#nocturnal brusqueness

[fieriframes]

[Daphnis writes the poetry his ego alight in silver is most wonderous his nocturnal brusqueness and sidelong glance rain not upon us]

#s15e06 east coast comfort #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #et in arcadia ego #i tego arcana dei #nocturnal brusqueness #sidelong glance #daphnis #poetry #ego #silver

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I am on here on a daily basis to see if you’ve written anything new, i am on my hands and knees for your writing 😭 it’s so fucking good!

Could I request a Marilyn Thornhill fic where it’s a fem reader who is very shy, and innocent. Kinda a corruption kink on Marilyn’s end, and she’s had her eyes on reader for a long time, reader just thought she was being friendly and would never reciprocate her feelings until one day reader ends up in detention for skipping Marilyn’s class because she couldn’t handle seeing her that day, she felt really frustrated that she has feelings for her botany teacher and doesn’t know how to get over her. She didn’t realize however Marilyn had detention duty that week and after dinner when she headed down to the detention hall it was only her and Marilyn. Reader panics and Marilyn ends up coming over to her desk and teasing her, saying she can’t lie to her and she knows why she skipped her class. She ends up teasing reader, she’s got a massive dumbification kink and she saying things to her like, “you’re so dumb for me already honeh? I haven’t even touched you yet”. She ends up roughly fucking reader on the desk, and with her strap, her mouth, and fingers. Then after they have sex reader gets upset because she doesn’t want this to be a one time thing and Marilyn comforts her.

(I feel like it’s definitely cannot that Marilyn has a mommy kink so if you wouldn’t mind adding that)

Ily sm I hope you read this!! Ur one of my fav people 🫶

Yesss!!! here it is!!!! Thank you very much for your words, I'm so happy to read them!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))))) <3<3<3<3<3

Teacher's favorite

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem Student! Reader

Warnings: Smut, first time, dom! Marilyn, slightly dark Marilyn, strap on, kinks everywhere

Word count: 7,952

Summary: You were having a hard time. You love your teacher, but you never thought if she felt the same way…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“(Y/N), where are you?” Your friend asked, nudging you and waking you up from the fantasy world you were daydreaming about. You shook your head and grumbled. You always hated being woken up from a fantasy, especially lately.

“I'm here…” You whispered, trying not to get your teacher's attention. Your cheeks were flushed and you started to get nervous for the fear of being found out.

It might have been Nevermore, but you were still the shy girl you'd always been. If it weren't for the fact that your classmates had the gift of sociability, you probably would never have come into contact with anyone at the academy.

You weren't averse to having friends, but you always had a hard time. Although having them had its advantages and disadvantages, like interrupting your mental images in the middle of a class, plus another series of awkward questions that scrutinized your sexuality and your possible romances within the school.

As expected, you didn't have any relationship with any of your classmates, you weren't interested, no matter how much your friends insisted over and over again in your nocturnal meetings.

You never liked explaining yourself, but you would have if you could. The fact is that you couldn't, you couldn't tell anyone who owned your dreams and fantasies.

“What were you thinking? You seemed very happy,” Divina teased, raising and lowering her eyebrows rapidly. You shook your head and from the tremor that appeared in your hands, one of your pens fell to the ground. You looked at your friend with a frown and bent down to pick it up.

“Shut up, that isn’t your business,” you said in a whisper, more brusque than usual.

“(Y/N)…” The voice you least expected said. Marilyn Thornhill, your teacher, had stopped the class, and she was looking at you with her arms crossed. You froze, your legs trembled, and your face turned even redder. “Would you mind repeating what I just said?” She asked, knowing that she had just caught you in a compromising situation.

Your whole body was a jumble of nerves, and the embarrassment and amused looks from your classmates were like electric shocks that prevented you from speaking like a girl your age, and not like a five-year-old one.

“I, I'm sorry, Miss Thornhill... I think I didn't hear you correctly,” you said in a low, barely audible voice.

The teacher looked at you funny, between subtle laughs from the rest of your classmates.

“Oh, isn’t my voice loud enough?” She asked, wryly. “Maybe you should sit here so you can hear me,” she said, pointing to an empty desk in the first row. You looked both ways, looking for some help, which of course you didn't get, and stood up, stumbling awkwardly against the chair, while your friend laughed.

“We'll see if you laugh later…” You whispered threateningly. You weren't going to do anything, but you couldn't just shut up, at that moment your heart was beating so fast that you thought you were going to faint.

Looking down at the floor, you walked to the front row and dropped your books on the desk, sitting down, keeping your head down, trying not to meet the redhead's eyes.

“Surely from here you can hear me...” The teacher sighed, forcing you to look at her. You nodded, breathing hard. Marilyn was too close, closer than she had ever been. That was not good, not at all.

Smiling with satisfaction, Marilyn walked back a few steps and continued with her class.

Having her right in front of you was a worse distraction than your gossiping friend.

At first you didn't want to admit it. You fought with yourself not to feel what you felt, but you couldn't control it. You always fell in love with the least suitable person, and in this case, she was none other than your botany teacher, whom you now saw very closely, almost like in your dreams. All your rational side told you to forget her, that it was an impossible love, that you would suffer as you did so many times in the past.

But it was too intense. The nerves and the feeling that just seeing her caused you were unbearable. It only fed your fantasies, your desire to be more than just a student for her. Something that would never be possible, something you could only dream of.

Her smile was like a drug for you, her voice was the best of sedatives, she calmed you down, made you smile. You were so in love and you couldn't fight it, you just hoped that the day of great disappointment would come soon, that you would finally discover that a girl like you could never be with someone like her. You needed that day, urgently, otherwise you thought you would be lost forever, that there would be no remedy for you.

The bell rang and you sighed in relief. You were supposed to take notes, but you couldn't. You had her so close, you could smell her perfume, notice each of her gestures, her smiles. It was too much for you, and all you could do at that moment was to run fast, without looking back. That whole day seemed to be against you. Marilyn stopped right in front of your desk and leaned towards you with an amused gesture.

“I hope you don't hold a grudge against me for having ordered you to sit here, (Y/N)… I didn't mean to embarrass you,” she She told you kindly, once the last of your classmates left the conservatory. You trembled and took a deep breath to be able to answer.

“It's okay…” You whispered. “I think I was a little distracted today.”

She smiled at you, waving her hand dismissively.

“Oh, well, it's normal to be distracted, sometimes even I lose my mind,” she said amused, leaning on her desk and crossing her arms. “Don't take it as a punishment, okay? I'm just trying to get my best student to pay attention,” she told you, winking at you.

You were on the verge of having a heart attack, but you had to be firm, behave like you were supposed to. You felt warmth on your cheeks and a heart rate that was out of the normal range for a person.

“Your best student?” You repeated as if you were a drooling robot. She looked at you curiously, but she smiled, picking up a piece of paper that was on the table.

“Your term assignment is the best, (Y/N)… I'm convinced that you would pass my subject without paying attention…” She whispered, looking at the paper carefully.

You were in a cloud, her compliments only made the love you felt worse. She was always that way, kind, calm, good... But it wasn't something exceptional, it was very strange not to see her smiling, or treating one of your classmates kindly.

“Tha, thank you…” You murmured, gaining enough strength to get up from the desk and pick up your stuff awkwardly.

“Ah, (Y/N)…” Marilyn stopped you before you went out the door and could breathe. You looked back after squeezing your eyes shut. “You don't have to sit here tomorrow, unless that's what you want, of course...” She said with a somewhat disturbing tone, or that was what your imagination thought.

Discretion was probably not your best skill, since those last words left you almost dizzy, causing you to collide with absolutely everything when leaving the conservatory, it even seemed to you that Marilyn was laughing.

You sighed heavily as you left the building, and then, after all this time, you realized that maybe you had a problem. You had already assumed the almost insane obsession you felt for your teacher, but when she spoke to you, your whole world went crazy.

If she weren't such a kind woman, if she didn't look at you with that smile, it would be much easier to put your feet on the ground, realize reality and assume that things are the way they are, and that a girl like you would never have anything with her

That night, like every other night for a couple of months, you had your eyes rolled back, thinking about the way Marilyn spoke to you, the way she looked at you. You struggled with your reasoning to avoid thinking that kindness was exclusive to you. It wasn't, she was like that with everyone, wasn't she?

Of course she was, you weren't special, you were just a poor fool, an innocent and shy girl, who was madly in love with her teacher. You had to make an effort to forget about her, since she would never feel the same way about you, and you repeated it to yourself every night.

The next morning, everything seemed to have reset. There was no change in your thoughts. You were a coward, it was hard for you to accept reality and the determination you had at bedtime vanished with the first sun rays.

“(Y/N),” your roommate said, taking you out of your thoughts. You frowned and sat up in bed. “Stop dreaming and wake up, today is a hard day.”

You glared at her for interrupting your self-pity and shook your head, yawning.

“What's happening? Oh, don't tell me that today is the arithmetic test,” you said getting out of bed, panicking.

You were so obsessed, Marilyn took up so much space in your mind that everything else was in the background, your grades were basically suffering for not remembering your homework, or any subject that had nothing to do with botany.

“What? No, that's next week,” your friend said, with a mocking tone. “Seriously, (Y/N), what planet are you living on lately?”

You sighed in relief, looking for your stuff to go to the shower and ignoring your friend's comment. You knew she was right, but you weren't willing to give it up for a second.

“I'm just a little confused…” You muttered, preparing your backpack while you looked at your schedule.

“Well, you shouldn't be, today is the day of the botany presentation, I suppose you remember that, right?”

Your heart stopped.

She was right, that day you had to present to the whole class the work you had done the week before. Your whole body started to shake and you started to panic. In your backpack, there was this work, a neat dissertation on vines.

Normally you had a hell of a time talking in front of the whole class, but you'd never done it in botany and just thinking about it made you dizzy. Every day started like this, having an irrational fear of seeing the woman you loved, but that day there was something that made you think of horrible things, as horrible as pretending to be sick so you don't have to go to class.

You were always a good girl, studious and calm, but somehow, Marilyn made you bring out the worst things in you.

That smile from the day before, her unexpected compliments, were just fuel for your feelings, so that your heart kept burning, kept burning slowly in the hell of unrequited love.

You got into the shower without speaking to your roommate, who simply laughed at your attitude. You couldn't say the reason for your tribulations, you couldn't tell anyone, you would be the laughingstock of Nevermore, and you didn't want to go through that again, not like in your old normi institute.

The hot water ran through your body and your mind works with forced steps to come up with some way to skip that class, to avoid having to be by her side, so close, talking to your classmates about some stupid vines.

“Hey! Hurry up or we won't make it,” Divina yelled behind the curtain. You grunted, you had no time left, you had to think fast and that made you do stupid things.

“You better go! I’ll go later,” you said, was that your big idea?

The footsteps in the bathroom told you that she had listened to you and when you found your way clear, you got out of the shower.

You looked at the clock, the class should have started already and you sighed relieved, but fearful. Skipping a class was common among the Nevermore students, but that only served to punish them harshly.

You felt like a criminal, a fugitive, but also free, relieved. Nobody could see you around the school and staying in the room was not an option. Too risky.

You wandered the halls hiding in every corner, avoiding every adult you encountered. Desperate you looked at the clock, wishing that time would pass quickly. But the clock didn't seem to want to move and your little skirmish seemed like torture.

The library was your best option, there was hardly anyone there. That was your next goal.

As you walked through the school, you regretted what you were doing, wondering how far you would go to avoid Marilyn, and how much longer you could endure this painful love. You couldn't hide forever from her, just make an effort and stop loving her. It was much easier to play hooky, that's for sure.

You were so focused on your thoughts and the pain in your stomach that this behavior caused you that you did not realize that danger was in front of you. Larissa Weems, the principal, walked past you, and you froze.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” she said kindly.

You wanted to scream with laughter, already expecting hundreds of questions, but the woman was completely oblivious that you should be somewhere else.

“Good morning, Principal Weems,” you answered trembling. Larissa smiled and walked past you. You thought the danger had passed, that your master move had worked, but she stopped, turning around with a frown.

“(Y/N)… What are you doing here? If I remember correctly now you should be in class,” she said, approaching you again.

Shit.

“Um… I…” You stammered, your face red as sunset and without a dignified answer. “It's just… It's just that I don't feel well.”

The old reliable. Larissa seemed to hesitate, but she sighed, looking at you carefully.

“Has Miss Thornhill let you out?” She asked. You were blocked, you didn't know how to lie. You didn't do or say anything. “(Y/N)?”

“I… Well, it's just… I fell asleep…” You stammered, wishing that everything was a nightmare. Larissa crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, glancing at her watch.

“It doesn't look like you're going to the conservatory…” she said, cornering you. “(Y/N)…”

You didn't need any more pressure to confess, or at least to admit that you were indeed skipping class.

“You surprise me, (Y/N), you have always been an exemplary student. Tell me, is there a reason to which you decided to skip that class?”

You shook your head, about to cry, embarrassed. You had a reason, but it wasn't one you could explain, much less to her.

“I, I'm sorry… I…” You said, on the verge of tears. Larissa put her hands on her hips and shook her head. The bell indicating the end of class rang.

“Well, we can't do anything to remedy it now, right?” Weems said, with a tone of disappointment in her voice.

“I'm sorry,” you said again, embarrassed, waiting for the punishment.

“I'd like to be kind to you, since it's the first time you've done it, but there can be no exceptions, (Y/N), you must all abide by the rules. After dinner, go to the detention room, you will spend a couple of hours there,” she said. You nodded but immediately frowned.

“Where is that room?” You asked with your innocent girl tone. Larissa smiled, knowing that you had never been.

“Don't worry, I'll tell Miss Thornhill to go with you, it's her turn to watch over the punished, so maybe you can explain to her why you decided to skip her class.”

You were an idiot. You thought that by skipping her you would get rid of her, you would stop seeing her smile as a drug, but you only made things worse. Now you would have to spend two hours with her, alone. It made you want to pound on the walls, to blow up all the furniture with your powers. You had gotten yourself into quite a mess.

“And then he told me that he had better things to do…” One of your friends told in the dining room.

The day went by terribly quickly and your tray of food was untouched. Apparently, nobody gave importance to your fleeting disappearance, which you were grateful for, but your gaze is fixed on the table and your thoughts were on that night, on the punishment that awaited you. In your mind you imagined the best possible scenario. Nevermore had many students and not all of them were as good and innocent as you, surely you would not be the only one punished. That thought managed to relieve you a little, but just a little.

“(Y/N),” Marilyn told you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I hope you had a good dinner time,” you coughed nervously and nodded, your cheeks already red. “Let's go?”

As if you were going to war, you got up from the table and grabbed your backpack, following the redhead through the halls.

To your horror, there was no one else with you.

“Isn't there anyone else?” You asked with a small voice. Marilyn gracefully turned around and shook her head with a strange smile.

“No, it seems that you have been the only one who has behaved badly,” she sighed, taking some keys from her bag and opening the classroom door. “Come in,” she told you, pushing your back slightly.

You sat at one of the many empty desks, trying to take your mind far away from that place. Marilyn sighed and put her bag down on the table, looking at you curiously.

“What….? What I have to do?” You asked embarrassed. Your heart was beating fast. Marilyn laughed and sat down at the desk.

“Whatever you want, (Y/N). I'm sure you have a lot of homework to do and two hours is enough time,” she told you with a smile, without taking her eyes from yours.

“Okay…okay,” you whispered, clearing your throat.

Time passed very slowly. You started to do your homework, but you couldn't help but get distracted. The woman you loved was so close... You almost thought you were having a panic attack, you couldn't concentrate, much less when the redhead stood up and walked slowly towards you.

You swallowed and looked up at her.

“I'm not mad at you, (Y/N), but I would like you to tell me why you haven't come to my class,” she said to you with a serious tone, but an informal one.

You had no answer, at least not one that made sense or wouldn't give you a heart attack right then.

“Um… I… It's just…” You said with a shaky voice. She looked at you carefully, with a half smile, as if she was trying to analyze your expressions.

“Tell me, (Y/N), didn't you want to see me?” She asked unexpectedly. You were startled by that strange question and shook your head.

“No, it's not that, it's that… It's just that…”

Marilyn laughed seeing you in that state and that only made you tremble more.

“Do I make you nervous?” She asked getting closer, leaning towards you.

“I…” You managed to say.

“You think I don't know what's going through your mind, don’t you?” She said whispering. You shook your head effusively, futilely looking for some way to escape from there.

“I, I don't know what you're talking about,” you said, causing the tip of your pencil to break due to your nervousness.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N), you know it, you know it perfectly…” Marilyn said, tilting her head.

“It's just that I'm ashamed to speak in front of my classmates, that's why I haven't gone to class,” you said, lying in the best way you could at that moment. Marilyn raised her eyebrows and smiled even wider.

“Please, (Y/N), don't try… You can't lie to me,” she said amused, closing your notebook and resting her hands on the desk. “Come on, honey, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“It's, it's the truth,” you said, obeying and looking at her.

“No, it's not…” She continued mocking.

You were dying to get out of there, you were a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. Marilyn didn't seem like the same happy and sweet teacher that she always was, there was something in her look that made you tremble, you didn't know if it was fear or desire...

“Look at you, (Y/N), you're shaking…” Marilyn said, amused, moving away from the desk and circling it like a vulture around its prey. “Poor silly girl, did you really think you could fool me?”

“I'm not trying to fool you…” You sighed, while Marilyn moved your chair away from the desk with a slightly abrupt jerk.

“Get up, honey, we are going to have a little conversation,” she said in your ear, causing all your hair to stand on end. You were a lost soul, a rag doll that was unable to move, only to obey your teacher while your breathing accelerated.

You stood with Marilyn too close to you, scrutinizing all your features, laughing at the nervous and embarrassed attitude you had at that moment.

“You like me, right?” She said without qualms. “Don't answer me, you don't have to, I know you like me.”

You wanted to cry, scream, run, escape. You didn't think you were so horribly obvious, so obvious, so indiscreet. That was worse than a nightmare.

“I…” You stammered, on the verge of a heart attack. Marilyn took a step towards you with a wicked smile, not willing to give you a break.

“You're so sweet…” She whispered in your ear, gently placing a hand on your waist. “I see how you look at me in class, how you tremble when I talk to you... Look at you, you're such a mess and I barely touched you... My dumb girl... Tell me, do you think about me?”

“I… I don't…” You said in an inaudible voice, with your vocal chords paralyzed by the situation. She touched you, grabbed your waist and caressed your cheek. It was better than a dream, but you felt like you were in a nightmare. It was no longer worth pretending. “Yeah, I do…”

“Oh, you’re flattering me, (Y/N)… You know? I also think about you... How dumb you become when you're with me...”

You were finally brave and looked into her eyes, while her caresses ran through your body. You were totally unable to speak.

“Did the cat get your tongue?” She asked teasingly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards her desk. “Such a shy girl… You drive me crazy, (Y/N).”

You nodded without really knowing why. Your back collided with the wood of the table and the redhead approached, putting her arms at your sides, impeding any attempt to escape.

“Do you want to kiss me?” She asked, getting so close to you that you could feel her breathing. Your nerves prevented you from moving, but you managed to nod awkwardly. “Oh, of course you want…”

You finally moved, putting your lips on hers timidly. It was much better than what you had dreamed of. Her lips were soft, warm, inviting. You squeezed your eyes shut, shedding a desperate tear. Desperate because of the confusion you felt and because of the strange way in which your most intimate desire was fulfilled.

She put a hand on your chest, pulling you away from that innocent kiss and looking at you curiously.

“Is that all you got for me, (Y/N)? Maybe you don't like me as much as I thought.”

You hung your head in shame. She should understand that the situation was strange, disturbing, totally outside of Nevermore's ethical code, something that should never happen. On the other hand, that was your first kiss, you couldn't do it better, you didn't know how to do it better. But she didn't seem to understand what you were going through. Marilyn wasn't stupid, she knew you had feelings for her, but maybe she didn't know exactly what kind of feelings.

“I'm sorry,” you said trembling, with tears running down your cheeks. “I had never kissed anyone.”

“Oh, is that true?” The redhead said, wiping away your tears. “So your shy and innocent appearance is not just a facade…”

You nodded, but before you could apologize any more, she was kissing you now wildly, with passion and desire. At that moment you decided to forget about your fears and your feelings and let yourself go. Her tongue ran through your mouth and her hands prevented you from moving, pushing you against the desk.

Marilyn pulled away from you to study your reaction. Your gaze was no longer fearful, but something else, something different. You had her there, kissing you, teasing you in a terribly suggestive way, embarrassing you, but rewarding you for it.

“Oh, God, you're so crazy about me... With just one kiss you're already so excited...” She whispered, while she put her hand under your skirt, caressing you in a place that seemed forbidden. Surely your body was several steps ahead of your mind, sending pleasant stimuli to your center, making you feel a humidity that was only accentuated by her hands.

“I'm… I'm nervous…” You confessed, letting yourself be caressed in that private area, letting her fingers run through your folds over your underwear. Marilyn laughed sinisterly and slipped her hand out of your skirt, cupping your face with her hands.

“Don't be nervous, my silly girl… Mommy will take good care of you, I promise.”

You were somewhat confused by those words, but desire began to invade your thoughts and you could just nod. The redhead smiled and ran a hand over your chest, enjoying every inch of your skin.

“Let me look at you, honey, I want to see your beautiful body,” she told you. You looked at her confused. You were so clumsy, so innocent. But that would end soon. Marilyn laughed amused to see you so lost. “The shirt, (Y/N), take off your shirt.”

“But… But, what if someone comes?” You asked, looking towards the door. Marilyn grunted unpleasantly and went over there, locking the door.

“No one is coming, (Y/N), now be a good girl and take off your shirt… Come on, don't make mommy angry…”

You swallowed and nervously took your hands to the buttons of your clothes, slowly undoing them, feeling how a current of cold air slipped into your body. Marilyn devoured you with her gaze, caressing the skin that was exposed, biting her lips. You were a trembling mess, but little by little the situation overwhelmed you, and there was little of the shy (Y/N) left.

“That's it… how beautiful girl you are, honey…” She hissed, coming closer and kissing your neck. That made you smile and you finally managed to relax a bit.

Marilyn finished removing your shirt, and also your bra. When you wanted to realize it, your chest was bare and her hands grabbed your breasts while the gasps began to fill the classroom. Your gasps

“So beautiful… Such a dumb girl for mommy…” The redhead whispered, taking you by the legs and sitting you down on the wooden table.

“Marilyn…” You sighed, making her stop. Her hand trailed up your leg, and, though she had touched you before, an irrational fear gripped you. “Please… Just, just be, be nice to me…” You begged. She looked at you curiously and smiled with a disturbing tenderness.

“Of course, my love... I'll be nice to my good girl... Mommy's going to take good care of you...” She said, amused, pulling your skirt until it disappeared trough your ankles.

You nodded, while her hand continued its way between your legs. Her fingers were skilled, they knew where to touch you even if you were still wearing your panties. You couldn't suppress a moan, which clearly made the redhead smile, enjoying how sensitive you were.

“I, I like it…” You said panting, clenching your fists. She laughed in amusement, pulling away from you a bit and taking off her own clothes.

“Do you like it? Well, of course you like it... My silly girl... “ She said, amused, lowering her skirt. You couldn't stop looking. Many times you imagined what was under her clothes, under her skirt. But you wouldn't have to, now you had her in front of you, naked, but at the same time unreachable, since you reached out an arm to touch her, but she slapped you, clicking her tongue.

“You don’t have to hurry, baby…” she said to you, grabbing your hair tightly, making you hiss in pain and pleasure. “Mommy is going to take care of you first … You are so needy...”

You nodded and she released you, pressing her body against yours as she made your underwear disappear. You were completely exposed, helpless, aroused…

“You're so wet… You say it's your first time? It's hard for me to believe it, (Y/N)…” She whispered, touching you now, running her fingers through your slippery folds.

You nodded, closing your eyes as her fingers rubbed your clit in circles. You had never thought that moaning was so easy, something that was done involuntarily. You were a shy girl, you would never believe that you were moaning with pleasure without any embarrassment, making sounds that were impossible for you just a few hours ago.

“Please…” You said without thinking. You knew what you were asking for, but you didn't think you were really doing it. It was a strange impulse, an unbearable desire.

“What do you want, sweetie? Tell me…” She said, caressing your entrance, but playing, not giving you what you wanted. You would have to tell her, lose your shyness, say out loud something you wanted for a long time.

“Please… Do it, please…” You begged, while your body trembled at her touch. Your hips moved to have more contact, to try to make those games in your entrance stop being just games.

“What? Please, (Y/N), speak clearly, be a good girl and tell mommy what do you want…” She whispered darkly, impatient.

“Fuck me, mommy!” You screamed, unable to control your instincts, your desire, your desire for her to enter you.

“That's the way I like it, honey…” Marilyn said, satisfied, slowly introducing two fingers inside of you. “Oh, yes, you are a virgin… You are so tight.”

You nodded, moaning at that new sensation. You were a virgin, but not a nun, you had enjoyed your own touch several times, but now it was she who entered you, not your fingers imagining her, not a fleeting illusion.

“You're so good…” Marilyn hissed, moving her fingers slowly. “My favorite student...”

Those unexpected compliments only increased your pleasure. That sweet tone of voice that she used to have came at an inappropriate time for it, but she knew it. Marilyn seemed to know you better than you did yourself, she knew what you needed at all time. Her speed increased at the same rate as your moans did.

You felt how her fingers glided easily and you leaned your head back while her other hand caressed your breasts, your belly, all your bare skin set on fire by her touch, by her whispers, by her tender caresses.

“My precious girl, my little and shy, (Y/N), look at me, I want to see your face when I make love to you, I want to see you melting with pleasure…” She told you, gently slapping you on your breast when you didn't obey. “Look at me!”

You widened your eyes, trying to control all the pleasure you felt. You were a newbie and you couldn't cope with all those new sensations. The cramps were not long in coming, but before you could release all the tension you had built up, she withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her mouth.

“You've done it very well, (Y/N)…” She said, pulling you away a bit. “But don't forget that you are my favorite student, mommy's favorite.”

“But, but...” You said, completely confused, noticing how your walls contracted due to the lack of her fingers.

“Shhh…” Marilyn interrupted you, putting a finger on your lips. “Shut up, my love… Mommy's favorite girls deserve something special…”

Saying that and not letting you protest, she went to her bag and what she took out of it made you shudder. A strap on not very large, but it made you shrink.

“That... That...” You said stammering, crossing your legs involuntarily as she put on the accessory, looking at you amused.

“Oh, are you afraid?” She said mockingly, approaching you, moving her hips exaggeratedly. The vision you had in front of you was so exciting and at the same time so disturbing that your body only asked you for more, only asked you to her to use that with you. You couldn't believe something like that would turn you on so much, but it did, and she knew it.

“I don't know if I can… I…” You said, shaking your head, trying not to stare at that silicone item.

“Of course you can. You're mommy's good girl, remember? Don't worry, I'll make it easy for you. Spread your legs, honey.”

You shook your head instinctively. The redhead didn't like that, and she pounced on you, pulling your hair, making you scream in pain.

“Don't you trust me?” She asked with a dark voice. You nodded, closing your eyes. “Okay, then spread your legs, baby, don't make me have to repeat it to you.”

You had no other choice. You parted your trembling legs, wet with your desire, exposing yourself completely. You expected her to have no mercy. You thought she would penetrate you unceremoniously, but none of that happened.

Marilyn reached down, grabbing your legs and keeping them apart. Little by little she was giving small kisses to your thighs. Your breath hitched as her mouth moved ever closer to her target. You didn't expect that, but you decided to stop worrying about nonsense, and enjoy the moment.

Marilyn kissed your center, she ran her tongue along your folds, sucked on your clit in a soft, almost romantic way.

“Your taste is so good, honey…” She whispered, continuing to move her tongue up and down.

The moans returned. It was something totally new to you, and something that exceeded your own limits of pleasure. You had to fight yourself not to grab her head and push it against your body. You didn't want that feeling to stop, for those kisses to stop sending a thousand sensations to your body. The cramps returned and you finally believed that she would not stop, that she would let you free yourself.

“I'm close…” You sighed, to let her know that you didn't want her to stop. To your dismay, she stopped again, leaving you again at the gates of orgasm. Your body was already almost sore from so much tension and you let out a piteous moan, which only made her laugh as she stood up and leaned into you, kissing you deeply.

You could taste yourself and it made you moan, shift on the table, become another quivering, needy mess.

“Now it'll be easier, honey… Turn around, come on,” she said in your ear, pulling you down from the desk. You let yourself go, but you still had doubts. You knew what was coming and although you wanted it, you couldn't help but feel a certain fear.

“Marilyn…” You sighed, trying to express many things with your gaze, which logically, the redhead couldn't interpret.

“I said turn around,” she snapped, grabbing your shoulders and turning until your belly hit the wood. “That's it, good girl… Now lean.”

You had no choice but to obey, helped by her hand on your head, which also ended up leaning against the desk.

Marilyn backed away, reaching into her bag for something while you stood exposed, with your back to her, unable to see what she was doing.

“Ah!” You yelled when you felt something cold between your legs, something that the redhead extended with her fingers. You looked up to see what was going on, but she looked down again, laughing in amusement.

“Calm down, honey, this is just to make it easier... I don't want to hurt my precious girl...” She told you, spreading that strange liquid around your entrance, and inside you. “Now stay still, be good to mommy...”

You nodded, though you doubted she'd seen you.

After a few more caresses, she approached you, making you notice how that object rubbed against your folds. It was strange, but surprisingly pleasant. Marilyn moved it along your center, while with the other hand, she caressed your buttocks.

“Such a perfect body, so beautiful…” The redhead whispered to herself, scratching your skin while the silicone penis was placed at your entrance. “Are you ready, baby?”

You nodded, closing your eyes and moving your hips.

“I didn't hear you,” Marilyn whispered, slowly introducing the tip inside of you.

“Yeah! Please, mommy!” You yelled, shaking your body.

“Good girl…” the redhead sighed, introducing herself more and more.

At first it was an unpleasant feeling. It hurt, you felt pins and needles in your center, something you knew would happen and the reason you were afraid.

“Mommy… It hurts,” you said, clenching your fists and eyes tightly, getting used to the intruder. Marilyn stroked your back tenderly, making soothing sounds as her hips moved slowly.

“Shh, calm down, honey, I know it hurts. Mommy is being as nice as she can to her precious little girl. Just hold on a little, do it for me… Will you?”

“Yeah…” You hissed, enduring the pain. At that moment you realized what you needed, what you wanted with rage. It was a dream come true, and now you couldn't back down, you shouldn't, you had to hold on.

As if your body had heard your thoughts, the pain gradually disappeared and a wave of overwhelming pleasure made you tremble and open your eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” Marilyn asked, brushing the hair off your back.

“Yeah…” You sighed, shifting pathetically, desperate for her to continue.

“Okay,” she said laughing, grabbing your hips. “Now I'm going to move a little faster, okay?”

You nodded and groaned as she did, feeling your body stretch, conforming to the intruder in an almost overwhelming way. Your hips moved as Marilyn wanted, she was the one driving you, from the beginning of that night.

“Fuck…” You said, unable to avoid speaking that way. The pleasure you felt was corrupting you, turning you into something you were not.

“Don't talk like that, honey, mommy doesn't like good girls to say those words…” She told you abruptly, giving you a soft smack on your ass while she moved rhythmically inside you.

“I'm sorry,” you said between gasps, trying to match your movements with hers, creating a pleasant and comfortable rhythm.

“Oh, my love... You take it so well... It moves so well inside you... When I think about the time I've lost without doing that to you... The nights I've touched myself thinking about having you like this...”

She was rambling, you could tell by the suddenness of her words. You didn't want to think about Marilyn touching herself. That would make the urge to cum too close again.

It was too late for that. The tremors in your legs and the heat accumulated in your center made you go crazy, to beg to be released.

“Mommy, please, I need to cum…” You said with a broken voice. “Please.”

“Do you want to cum? Oh honey, you don't have enough time... But it's okay, do it honey, do it for mommy, but on one condition.”

You smiled, letting your pleasure wash over you.

“Which one?” You asked, hitting the table due to her strong thrusts.

“Don't shut up, I want to hear you scream,” she whispered into your ear, before moving again.

You agreed and finally, you felt what you wanted so much, that you did not know beyond your fantasy nights. An intense, strong orgasm, the best of your life, the first real one of your life.

Your hips bucked and she pressed herself hard against your body, moaning along with you, filling that lonely room of gut-wrenching screams.

“My love… What a good girl you have been… My poor silly girl…” Marilyn said, catching her breath and getting out of you, taking off her strap on.

You turned around, stunned by what just happened, and kissed her without warning. Holding her tightly, expressing all the love you felt.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” She said, shaking her head and stopping your kisses. You felt a stab in the heart. “We're not done yet. Get on your knees.”

“But…” You sighed.

“On your knees, sweetie,” she said, more softly. You obeyed and felt the cold wooden floor on your legs. She came closer, caressing herself and gesturing for you to come closer.

“Come here, make mommy happy…” She said, pulling your hair until your face was aligned with her center. You were paralyzed, It was one thing to let things be done to you, but something very different was to do things. You didn't know how to do anything, you were an innocent girl (now not so innocent), and you didn’t know what you had to do to please her. She laughed in amusement, grabbing your chin so you would look into her eyes.

“Come on, don't be shy…” Marilyn said, pushing your face into her body.

“I don't know what to do…” You said, on the verge of tears. Marilyn pushed you away and pouted at you.

“Oh, poor silly girl. Don't worry honey, I'm here to help you.”

With a few small prompts and some brusque demands, you managed to make her explode with pleasure too. You simply kissed, sucked where she told you. She did the rest, knowing that you wouldn't dare to play with her like she did with you.

“Get up,” she told you, once she got her breath back. “Get dressed,” she said dryly, kissing you briefly on the lips.

You expected something else. I love you, a hug, a better kiss. But there was none of that. Marilyn just started getting dressed without even looking at you.

You put on your clothes in silence, thinking about what had happened and what hadn't. It could seem that you were a girl thirsty for sex, that all she wanted was for her teacher to take her, to do with her what she wanted. But it wasn't like that.

You loved her, you were in love with her. Sex for you was totally secondary (most of the time). You didn't want to be a passing lover, a one-night stand, a toy with no feelings.

But Marilyn's attitude told you that was precisely what you were. Your whole world came down from the cloud in which it was from the first kiss and stepped on reality abruptly, painfully.

You went to your desk and in silence, you collected your stuff, putting them in the backpack. You tried not to show it, you tried so hard not to cry, but to no avail.

You sobbed as the tears fell to the floor. This caught the attention of the redhead, who turned and looked at you with her mouth open.

“(Y/N), are you crying?” She asked approaching you slowly.

“No…” You lied sobbing, putting the backpack on top of the desk.

“Oh, but why are you crying?” She asked again, grabbing your shoulders, stopping you from running out of that class. “Honey, have I done something you didn't want to do?” Have I gone too far with you?”

You shook your head, freeing yourself from her grip and putting the backpack on your shoulders. She was faster than you, grabbing your wrist and preventing your escape again.

“(Y/N), talk to me, tell me what I did wrong... I... I thought it was what you wanted... Please tell me that you too, that I haven't abused you...” She said, grabbing your face with her hands. You shook your head as the tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

“It's not that…” You hiccuped, letting all your crying out uncontrollably. Marilyn looked at you scared and wiped away your tears.

“Then what is it?” She asked worriedly.

“It's... It's just that... I thought... I thought that... Well...” You said sobbing. Marilyn grabbed your hands and sat in the chair, looking at you.

“Come on, honey, talk to me, tell me what you feel...” She told you tenderly, with a voice very different from the one she had before.

“It's just that you already have what you wanted and I’m not,” you confessed, far from wanting to repress your feelings.

“What did you want? What are you talking about? Please, darling, tell me what do you want,” she said, with a sad, guilty look.

“I love you, Marilyn… I’m, I’m in love with you and now that I have finally had something with you I feel… I feel that you don’t love me, that you have only used me, that this will not happen again,” you said burying your face between your hands.

Marilyn pushed them away and caressed your cheek.

“I know that sometimes I'm a bit… blunt… But that doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you, my love…” She whispered, forcing you to look into her eyes. “Honey, you are a wonderful girl, my favorite student, remember?”

“You say that because of what has happened…” You said, refusing to believe her words.

“No, no, baby…” She said, trying hard for you to believe her. “It was not my intention to intimidate you, nor to make you feel like a doll. I only pretended to love you, and I don't want to stop doing it. (Y/N), I love you, and I don't want you to think I'm using you.”

You opened your eyes and stopped crying, looking at her suspiciously.

“You… Do you love me?” You asked with an innocent voice. She smiled tenderly and stood up, nodding and pulling you into a soft hug.

You still doubted her, but you hugged her back, pressing her body hard against yours, crying into her shoulder. That was much more like what you wanted.

“Shhh, don't cry anymore, my love... Didn't you like what we've done?”

“Yes, I liked it Marilyn, it was the best thing that ever happened to me…” You confessed, letting yourself be comforting. “But I don't want to be a one-night stand… Please… I want, I want to be with you…”

“Is what you want? A relationship?” She asked, pushing you away a bit.

You nodded, feeling how little by little you calmed down.

“Okay, honey… But we have to be careful, if someone finds out…” Marilyn said. Unexpectedly, you suffered a laughter attack. “What is so funny?”

“It's funny you'd say that considering what we just did,” you said, truly smiling for the first time.

She laughed too, kissing you softly between giggles.

“This time I had the situation under control, but we must be careful, that's all I ask of you, do you agree?”

You agreed, hugging her again, closing your eyes and enjoying her caresses.

“Yeah…”

“And don't skip my class anymore,” she said amused. You smiled again, feeling safe in her arms.

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #smut

[grelleswife]

Could you do "I may not believe in fate , but I believe in you" with Sebagrelle, friend? ❤️🖤 Seeing as every time they've run into each other Grelle always boasts of it being fate or something and Seb ALWAYS denies it... But what if.. ? 👀👀👀

I struggled a bit with this one, but I hope the result passes muster! 🙈 I based it off my silly little theory (derived from the Black Label Funtom Hotel merch) that Grelle and Othello might be involved in the manga’s upcoming hotel arc with O!Ciel and Seb. ❤️🖤

Sebastian didn’t stir a muscle when death entered the hotel bar, but the raucous babble of its mortal patrons dwindled to nothing beneath her heels’ lively staccato against the floor. He’d have recognized her confident stride even amid the restless, teeming throngs of hell.

The butler fidgeted with a glass tumbler still half-full of whisky (having taken a few reluctant sips for pretense’s sake, though it failed to satisfy his devilish palate), tilting it slightly to observe the light shifting on amber liquid.

But the only color he could see was red. Red hair billowing in the wind, lent a silvery sheen by moonlight. Red lipstick smeared across his mouth after she branded his lips with the heat of her passion. Red blood that coated the reaper’s whirring chainsaw as she tore through her enemies, shrieking with wicked laughter, aflame with mad beauty that Lucifer himself would have wept to gaze upon—

“Oh my my…fate brings us together once again, Sebastian darling!” Grelle trilled, sauntering up behind him to lay her hand on the demon’s shoulder.

Rather than brusquely shake off the familiar touch, as he would have been wont to do in the early days of their acquaintance, Sebastian relaxed, the tension draining from his uneasy frame.

Playfully raising an eyebrow, he countered, “Mere coincidence, rufina.”

“Still stubborn as ever, aren’t you?” she tittered. “You are such a tease. Toying with a maiden’s heart so!”

Turning to address the bartender, she drawled, “I’ll have what he ordered,” and gestured toward Sebastian with a coquettish grin.

That smile had most definitely not plagued his wistful reveries in the silent nocturnal hours…but the butler conceded that Grelle’s arrival offered a welcome diversion from the dire circumstances in which he and the young master were currently embroiled. The reaper’s bellhop uniform accentuated her trim figure, while the purple and black perfectly suited her complexion, with the dapper cap adding a droll touch. What an enchanting woman…

Realizing that he had begun to stare, Sebastian hastily resumed his scrutiny of the whiskey, which must be to blame for the heat kindling beneath his skin.

“I presume you’re here for the same purpose that brought my young lord and I to this establishment,” he murmured.

Grelle accepted her drink from the bartender before gracefully seating herself on the stool to the left of Sebastian’s, propping her chin in her hand, and leaning towards him with a conspiratorial whisper.

“Tracking down a certain nasty undertaker to teach him a lesson or two? Mais oui.”

She took a swig from her glass before slamming it back on the countertop, her mischievous smile souring into a scowl.

“Not that we’ve had much bloody luck of it.”

We? Ah…the demon thought he’d caught a glimpse of that eccentric forensics expert Othello scurrying around, wearing similar attire to Grelle’s, when he and the earl checked in.

“Nor we,” Sebastian admitted heavily. “I’ve spent the past hour here trying to gather information, but there’s been no sign of him or his ward.”

A shudder of revulsion crawled up his spine as he recalled the hollowed-out corpse of Ciel Phantomhive, which spoke and moved without the impetus of a soul.

“Bugger that old man!” growled the reaper. “And to think this would make a di-vine spot for a couples holiday. But alas, it’s not destined to be.”

The goddess heaved a pathos-laden sigh.

“Then again,” she purred, sly chartreuse eyes fixing him in their gleaming regard, “You keep insisting you don’t believe in destiny, mon cher.”

Sebastian carefully mulled her words over, until the lengthening pause in their conversation turned translucent and fragile, like the shimmering surface of a bubble that might burst at any moment.

“I may not believe in fate,” he finally replied, “But I believe in you.”

“Eh?! What the hell do you mean by that, little Sebas?” Grelle stammered, briefly losing her poise as her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed pink.

The demon chuckled, “Your persistence has never required a helping hand from fair Fortuna, Miss Sutcliff; regardless of the obstacles in your path, you find your way to me as surely as thunder follows lightning.”

“Well, well, wellllll. My dove-feathered raven is a romantic, after all!” she gleefully declared, poking him in the chest.

“Just a realist,” he protested with a shake of his head, but a gloating smirk spread across her face.

“I can’t take all the credit, mon amour, not when you seem hellbent on being found. Lingering around your latest kill when you know I’m on soul-collection duty? That convenient habit you’ve picked up of stopping by my favorite café when you’re running errands for the brat, at ex-act-ly the time I normally get off work?”

She wrapped an arm around the curve of his waist, tugging Sebastian closer to croon into his ear, “Telling that pipsqueak when you planned on visiting the bar to hunt for clues…juuuust loud enough for a lady to overhear you?”

This time, the rosy blush which suffused Sebastian’s countenance couldn’t feasibly be chalked up to the alcohol.

“You are incorrigible, Miss Sutcliff.”

#kuroshitsuji #sebagrelle #sebagrell #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff #sebastian michaelis #tw alcohol #my fic #my writing #thanks for the request fren!

[digitaldiscipline]

Ah, the Escherian Mall, my old nocturnal nemesis, how irritating to see you again, especially when I was trying to *checks notes* go back to college while foiling a recurring Leverage episode that doesn't exist.

I mean, I know how the episode turns out, because this is like the fifth different time I've dreamed it, but this time, I had a crew of like two dozen of my nerdy convention friends in tow, and our big set piece was inexplicably and inexpertly hiding in the server room behind the servers themselves every time the bad guys walked past, and I ended up taking point on the breakout when we finally got tired of being pinned down in there by loudly pushing the door open and walking past the bad guys with an irritated expression and brusque "excuse me" as I passed them in the hallway, then vaulting over the raining of a set of stairs and continuing on my way (which probably was flashier than intended, even in my workman's utilikilt).

Then it was hours of "why the fuck can't I find my hotel" with increasingly frustrated and fruitless attempts at asking for help and directions, culminating with finding my late grandmother, mother, and aunt standing at a hotel bar and not having any of their shit about being unable to navigate.

"There are zero geographic features in this fucking city to get bearings from."

Even in trying to use my phone to try and do it was useless, because the "you are here" dot kept moving even when I didn't, and none of the "informational" kiosks had venue maps.

I wouldn't have been so het up about it if I didn't have an 11 o'clock lecture that I was trying desperately to get to for the first day of class, even while realizing that I graduated nearly 30 years ago and blew off plenty of classes my senior year to no notable ill effect.

#dreamshit

[bobathirstaccount]

Nocturnal Admissions

Boba x GN!reader, light angst, fluff, no smut

I have never been forgiven for wanting

- Gwen Benaway

Translations (Mando’a)

Riduur - spouse

***

Boba ran a gentle hand over your head as you slept. Somehow it settled his mind. He should be sleeping too, but he was up, fantasizing. That this could last. He felt supremely stupid for getting so involved with someone. How long until you left him, through one way or the other?

You moaned in your sleep and started mumbling, “I told him.”

Amused, Boba decided to respond, “Told him what?”

“I did.”

Boba grinned at your insistent tone as he continued the conversation, “Did what?”

“He made a deal.”

“Oh? For what?”

You grumbled and furrowed your brow. Finally you continued, “People don’t know.”

He was about to ask what they didn’t know, but you brusquely carried on, “That Boba’s… is the only one who is a good person.” He stifled a laugh as you continued mumbling, “That’s why I love himmmmm…” You trailed off into unintelligible gibberish as he gasped softly. You mumbled as Boba’s mind raced. What did it mean? Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, “I told them about it already!”

Boba sat up and grabbed you softly, trying to wake you slowly. You grumbled awake, “I said that… I said… what? Was I talking in my sleep?” Boba smiled in the dark. “A bit,” he tried to get you to lie back down, but you resisted. “I feel mad, what was I saying?”

“Uhhh, I couldn’t really… understand.”

You laid back down, “Too bad.” Boba laid down behind you, making you little spoon. He nestled into you, feeling possessive. His arm squeezed around you. Your words had ignited his deepest desires, and he desperately wanted them to be reality. You grabbed his hand with yours. “Y’wanna… y’know….” You pressed your ass into his cock. He smiled, but was too emotional. “Mm, yes but not right now,” he nuzzled your neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he tried to lie. You called him out, “Don’t fib. What’s bothering you?”

“Uhm, let’s talk about it in the morning,” he shushed. You resisted, “Tell me.”

He kissed your shoulder to buy time. Then he murmured quietly, “I did understand something you said, earlier…”

“What?” You turned your head a bit, interested.

“Mm, you said something like I was a good person…” he trailed off.

You giggled, “That’s not so bad, what else did I say?”

He started to sweat, “Uhm, that you… love me.”

You were silent.

“What a weird thing to say, huh,” Boba tried to defuse the moment.

“It’s… true.” Your voice trembled.

“What?”

“It’s true,” you whispered.

Boba’s skin tingled. “Huh?” He blurted out. You were quiet. Finally he composed himself somewhat. “Uhm, you do?” You shrugged, refusing to speak.

“I… I uh... me too. I mean. I love you.”

You rolled over in Boba’s arms. Facing him, you breathed, “You do?”

“I want you,” he confessed, feeling bolder.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself close. “What are we, then?” Your breath hit his collarbones lightly. Longingly, Boba murmured, “Riduur?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Mm…” he dared not translate. Instead he slid his hands down your body to hold you by your waist, and asked, “What do you want from me?” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Everything that you’ll give me,” your voice was quiet, serious. Boba held back, not wanting to tempt fate. You sniffled softly. It made him weak, “I… I want to give you everything of me.”

Your lips found his. He reveled in the moment, holding you close. When the kiss ended, you snuggled into him, the top of your head coming to rest under his chin. Boba tightened his embrace slightly. You let out a long, contented sigh. He felt you slipping into sleep again, and smiled softly. As you began to snore quietly, his worries returned, although slightly altered. Chewing his lip lightly, he fretted. You began to mumble again, “Uhhhng, he said so. I wanted to telllll himmmm…”

He smiled despited his current concerns. You continued insistently, “I know what riduur is…” Boba’s heart skipped a beat. You settled down. Feeling comforted and sleepy, he let himself mellow out. His troubles would still be there in the morning. Until then he would rest with his riduur.

#boba x reader #boba x you #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #boba fett x gn!reader #boba fett fluff

[freelance-informatique]

Que faire si vous souffrez de crampes intempestives ?

Une crampe se manifeste par une contraction soudaine, involontaire et douloureuse d'un muscle ou d'un groupe de muscles. Elle est généralement produite de manière transitoire et se caractérise par une sensation de raideur et de douleur intense dans la zone affectée. Si vous en souffrez, suivez nos conseils pour les soulager et éviter leur survenue. Quelles sont les causes des crampes à répétition ? Les causes principales sont la déshydratation, la fatigue musculaire, le déficit d'électrolytes et les blessures musculaires. Elles peuvent également être provoquées par une activité physique intense ou un traitement médicamenteux. Une hydratation insuffisante peut entraîner une baisse du taux de sodium, de potassium et de magnésium dans le corps. Ces éléments sont essentiels pour le bon fonctionnement des muscles et leur carence peut provoquer des crampes. De plus, si vous surutilisez vos muscles ou si vous les soumettez à un effort intense et prolongé, ils peuvent se contracter. Cette contraction est involontaire et provoque des crampes. Il en est de même si vous pratiquez un exercice physique intense sans le précéder d'un échauffement adéquat. Enfin, comme on peut le lire sur des sites d'actualités comme 180back par exemple, les crampes peuvent être provoquées par la prise de certains médicaments. C'est le cas des diurétiques et de certains médicaments contre l'hypertension artérielle. Les solutions pour soulager vos crampes rapidement Si vous êtes pris de crampe, étirez doucement le muscle affecté sans geste brusque. Massez-le ensuite pour détendre les fibres musculaires. Faites également une légère pression et faites des mouvements circulaires avec les doigts. Vous pouvez aussi appliquer de la chaleur ou du froid sur la zone affectée pour soulager la crampe. Pour ce faire, vous pouvez vous servir d'une bouillotte ou d'une compresse chaude que vous allez poser sur le muscle atteint. Vous pouvez par ailleurs appliquer un sac de glace sur le muscle pendant une quinzaine de minutes environ. Nous vous recommandons de boire suffisamment d'eau au cours de la journée afin de maintenir une bonne hydratation et équilibrer les niveaux d'électrolytes. Si les crampes persistent, vous pouvez aussi prendre des médicaments en vente libre comme des analgésiques pour soulager les douleurs. Cependant, nous vous recommandons de demander l'avis de votre médecin avant toute médication. Lire aussi : Vous avez des crampes nocturnes ? 5 remèdes naturels Quelles sont les bonnes habitudes à adopter ? Si vous êtes sujet à des crampes intempestives, il est recommandé de maintenir une bonne hydratation de l'organisme tout au long de la journée. Nous vous conseillons aussi de faire régulièrement des exercices d'étirement pour maintenir la souplesse de vos muscles. Insistez surtout sur les groupes musculaires qui ont tendance à se contracter (les mollets, les cuisses, les bras et les pieds). Vous devez par ailleurs éviter des efforts excessifs sans préparation progressive. Lors de vos activités physiques, vous devez augmenter progressivement l'intensité de votre activité physique. Cela permet aux muscles de s'adapter à votre rythme et de se renforcer. De plus, nous vous recommandons une alimentation équilibrée qui vous évitera un déséquilibre des électrolytes dans le corps. Enfin, les chaussures inadaptées peuvent provoquer des crampes de pieds et de mollets. Privilégiez donc des chaussures confortables et bien ajustées qui vous apportent un soutien maximal des pieds. Read the full article

[clemjolichose]

and i know i've kissed you before

Fandom : Vilebrequin

Pairing : Gaytipla (Sylvain Levy x Pierre Chabrier)

Nombre de mots : 3 155 mots

Avertissement : Aucun

Résumé : Leurs nuits blanches ne sont pas blanches, à peine claires, semées d'étoiles…

Quand les insomnies frappent, quand le sommeil ne vient pas et que la nuit tient leurs pensées entre ses griffes, il reste deux solutions : se torturer jusqu'au petit matin et tout oublier, ou bien agir, quitte ou double…

Note d’auteurice : Vous pouvez aussi lire ce texte sur Wattpad ou AO3 <3

Partie : 3/3

Partie 1 | Partie 2

Chanson : Pink in the night de Mitski

L'attente était longue, pour Sylvain. Il fixait le téléphone à côté de lui et plus les minutes passaient, plus ils voulaient s'en saisir, envoyer un nouveau message, le supplier, s'excuser, tirer une réaction de l'autre. Il se retenait, parce qu'au fond il avait peur.

Alors il attendit. Dix minutes, vingt minutes, trente, trente-cinq... Son esprit était vide, sauf d'une chose : Pierre. Il se dit qu’il était effectivement en train de dormir, qu’il était vain d’espérer quoique ce soit, qu’il ferait mieux d’essayer de dormir aussi même s’il savait que le sommeil ne viendrait pas à lui.

Il lâcha son téléphone et se rallongea dans le lit. Il en avait mal. Il voulait en pleurer. C’était idiot, il se sentait terriblement idiot, mais il y avait des nuits où la solitude et le désir étaient plus tenaces que d’autres.

Des coups résonnèrent dans son appartement, contre la porte. Sylvain sursauta, son cœur accélérant immédiatement. Il espérait tellement que ce soit Pierre… Ni une ni deux, il bondit sur ses pieds et courut à moitié pour aller ouvrir. Il ouvrit la porte d’un geste brusque, le souffle court, provoquant un mouvement de recul de la part de son ami, qui se trouvait effectivement devant la porte.

“Bordel, Pierre, t’es là…”

Il poussa un profond soupir de soulagement, portant sa main à sa poitrine. Le susnommé leva un sourcil en le considérant, avec un petit sourire en coin.

“Eh beh, je me faisais attendre dis donc !

-Je savais pas si t’avais vu mon message, expliqua Sylvain. J’ai été pris de court quand t’es arrivé. Rentre, attends, reste pas sur le pallier !”

Il s’écarta pour laisser la place à son invité, refermant la porte derrière lui.

“Ouais, je sais, pardon, s’excusa Pierre. J’ai oublié de te répondre et je suis parti direct…”

L’hôte émit un rire, à peine discret, juste un soufflement de nez. Il suivit Pierre dans le séjour, mais aucun des deux ne fit un geste pour s’asseoir. Ils restèrent debout, l’un en face de l’autre, au milieu de la pièce. Ils se fixaient, sans savoir quoi dire, comment parler, quand commencer.

Il y avait une fin à tout ça, à cette entrevue nocturne, les deux hommes le savaient. C’était d’ailleurs la raison de cette tension entre eux, à peine perceptible, stimulée par l’hésitation et l’appréhension. Il savait sans parler où ils finiraient. Pourtant, personne ne bougeait.

Pierre s’était adossé au mur, les mains dans les poches avant de son pantalon de pyjama. Il observait Sylvain qui, à quelques mètres de lui, s’était à moitié assis sur l’accoudoir de son canapé, les mains dans le dos. Il avait la tête baissée, comme coupable.

Finalement, il parla, d’une petite voix fatiguée, relevant à peine le regard :

“Désolé pour le message. J’arrivais juste pas… je sais pas, je voulais pas rester seul.

-Moi non plus, avoua Pierre en retour. Du coup, ça m’arrange bien, t’excuse pas.”

Il se redressa et s’approcha de l’autre homme, lentement, jouant avec lui. Ils s’observaient l’un l’autre, Pierre avec amusement, Sylvain avec timidité. Il avait du mal à mettre des mots sur ce qui était en train de se passer, en résultait une grande confusion pour sa part, vite essuyée par les mains de son ami sur ses bras.

Doucement, Pierre tira pour que les mains de Sylvain se lâchent et tombent le long de ses hanches. Il voulait les tenir, alors il les prit dans les siennes, envahissant l’espace personnel du pauvre insomniaque. Ce dernier ne disait rien, ça ne lui déplaisait pas, bien au contraire. Un petit sourire se dessina sur son visage, peu assuré.

Il n’avait jamais touché un homme. Pas intimement du moins. Ce contact lui semblait déjà si intime, Pierre jouant avec ses mains, les contemplant avec un tel intérêt que l’autre en était gêné. Mais il le laissa faire, il en avait envie, avec lui. Il voulait que Pierre soit le premier et, si possible, le dernier qu’il touchât jamais. Il le voulait ce soir.

La surprise le secoua légèrement quand l’homme qui tenait ses mains les porta à ses lèvres pour les embrasser, son regard planté dans le sien. Surprise vite remplacée par une chaleur qui s’étendait de son estomac vers sa poitrine. Il ouvrit la bouche pour parler, les mots restaient suspendus. Il la ferma, ils voulurent sortir. Et ce ballet, qui faisait bien rire Pierre, s’acheva par ces mots de Sylvain :

“Qu’est-ce qu’on fout…”

Ce n’était pas une question, pas même une affirmation, à peine un doute… ça ne voulait rien dire, en fait. Il ferma les yeux un instant, juste le temps que l’autre homme l’enlace, le tienne par la taille, il sentit son odeur…

“Qu’est-ce qu’on fout, répéta-t-il avec plus de vigueur. Pierre.”

Il repoussa le susnommé, levant les yeux vers lui, incertain. L’autre sourit, calme et tranquille, comme s’il savait ce qu’il faisait. Son meilleur ami ne savait même pas si c’était vrai. Il pouvait bien cacher son jeu, parfois. Ses émotions, aussi. Lui était un livre ouvert, ses yeux brillants transmettaient toute la peur et le désir qu’il ressentait. Peut-être était-ce de là que venait l’assurance de Pierre. Peut-être qu’il connaissait son charme.

Il fallait avouer qu’il avait des allures de gentleman, derrière les grossièretés. Des traits de romantisme. Il ne les montrait pas toujours, mais quand c’était le cas, Sylvain ne pouvait pas s’empêcher d’être charmé, lui qui était si souvent un connard. Il se demandait parfois comment l’autre le supportait, avec toute sa mauvaise foi et cet énorme ego qui le rendait vulgaire. Non pas que Pierre était un prince charmant, pas plus que Sylvain ne l’était, mais quand même… il était sacrément beau quand il se mouvait, quand il parlait.

Là, Pierre ne faisait ni l’un ni l’autre, mais malgré tout, son ami le trouvait particulièrement agréable à regarder. Alors ils continuaient de s’observer, avec des sourires discrets, des yeux baissés parfois, des caresses qui dérangeaient à peine l’air autour d’eux.

“On fait rien de mal, répliqua Pierre avec un haussement d’épaule. On s’en fout.”

Et en plus d’être beau, il avait les mots. Bordel, Sylvain était en train de craquer. De tous les jeux auxquels ils avaient joué ensemble, c’était probablement le premier qu’il perdait. Mais comme l’autre avait dit, il s’en foutait. Il panserait son ego blessé le lendemain, quand il serait conscient. Là, il rêvait et voulait se laisser transporter.

Pierre le serra à nouveau, brièvement, pour lui susurrer à l’oreille :

“On pourrait s’installer dans ton lit et voir où s’en foutre nous mène.”

Sa barbe frotta contre la peau de Sylvain, qui ferma encore les yeux, écoutant à peine. Il acquiesça quand même, contre l’autre.

Celui-ci le tira donc vers la chambre avec un grand sourire, il ouvrit la porte, fit asseoir son ami qui semblait tout perdu… Alors il releva son visage d’un doigt glissé sous son menton, soucieux.

“Ça va ? demanda-t-il doucement.”

Sylvain sortit de ses pensées et lui sourit.

“Ouais, pardon, j’ai… j’ai pas l’habitude.”

Pierre fronça les sourcils et ne put s’empêcher de blaguer :

“Ça fait si longtemps que ça que t’as pas ramené une fille chez toi ?

-Tu saoules, soupira Sylvain sans le penser, souriant.

-T’adores ça, se défendit son interlocuteur. C’est pour ça que tu m’as envoyé un message.”

Et l’autre homme ne répondit pas, acceptant une nouvelle défaite.

A la place, il tendit la main et attrapa le poignet de son ami, celui autour duquel quelques bracelets se trouvaient. Et il tira, tombant en arrière sur le matelas tandis que Pierre se trouvait au-dessus de lui.

“Ah, tu prends enfin les devants, remarqua celui-ci avec un sourire.”

Sylvain l’enlaça et roula sur le côté avec lui, le faisant rire.

“Je veux juste des câlins, murmura-t-il.

-Je vois ça, répliqua Pierre, un brin moqueur.”

Son ami l’insulta en retour, mais il n’en fut pas blessé, il l’avait plutôt cherché et ça le faisait marrer. Il se tut finalement et enlaça Sylvain en retour, comme ce dernier semblait le vouloir. Un soupir appréciateur le lui confirma.

Petit à petit, à force de légers mouvements, pour se réajuster ou pour se caresser, les deux hommes s’installèrent confortablement sans se quitter, toujours étendus sur leurs flancs.

“Il fait chaud chez toi, se plaignit Pierre, qui portait un pull.

-J’ai froid. Enlève ton pull, toi.”

L’autre homme se mordit la lèvre, avouant avec un rire parce qu’il trouvait la situation fort cocasse :

“J’ai rien en dessous.

-Enlève-le, insista Sylvain avec un sourire en coin.”

Ils éclatèrent de rire tous les deux, alors que Sylvain flirtait ouvertement. Il mettrait ça sur la fatigue - ou pas…

Pierre abdiqua et se détacha de son compagnon d’insomnie pour s’asseoir sur le bord du lit. Là, il se trouvait dos à lui, retirant son vêtement avec un soupir de soulagement. Sylvain, lui, avait ses yeux fixés sur lui, sur son dos. La pilosité de ses épaules qui roulaient avec le mouvement de ses bras se faisait plus rare vers le milieu de son dos, pour reprendre tout en bas. Il était fasciné par le dos de Pierre, tout à coup, le détaillant autant qu’il le pouvait. Les muscles qui se tendaient et se détendaient sous sa peau, sa taille masculine, sa carrure frêle, les quelques grains de beauté qui couraient ci et là, la beauté de sa silhouette, il aimait tout. Pierre n’avait pas particulièrement de grâce, mais il avait indéniablement le charme.

Quand il se rallongea près de Sylvain, celui-ci se blottit immédiatement contre lui, passant sous son bras pour cela. Il arborait un petit sourire d’enfant satisfait après un caprice, qui attendrissait Pierre.

“T’es mieux comme ça ? demanda-t-il en ayant déjà la réponse.”

Sylvain hocha la tête contre sa poitrine nue, posant une main au niveau de son ventre. Il se contracta sous le contact et la chaleur qu’il produisit, et eut du mal à se relâcher à cause des douces caresses que l’autre y appliquait de son pouce. C’était incroyablement doux, les deux hommes étaient sur un nuage, ne voulant pas redescendre.

Oui, il fallait que la nuit s’étire, s’allonge, devienne éternelle. Là, à l’heure où tout le monde dormait sauf eux, ils étaient seuls face au monde. Seuls dans leur idylle. Aucun compte à rendre, aucune responsabilité, à part celle d’aimer l’autre. Ils n’avaient même pas besoin de mots pour se le dire, et pourtant ils les utilisaient quand même, faisaient l’effort en plus des gestes attentionnés. Ils se l’étaient toujours dit, au fond, sous une forme moins officielle. Depuis leur rencontre, ils n’avaient cessé de graviter l’un près de l’autre sans pouvoir se séparer très longtemps.

Il y avait des câlins, des caresses, des baisers sur la joue, souvent, des compliments, des surnoms, des regards, des gestes avortés, des inquiétudes, des rires, des colères, des blagues, des envies réprimées à coup d’amitié, des désirs inavoués consommés dans le secret de la nuit et d’une chambre, des peurs, de la tendresse, et des conneries, beaucoup de conneries.

Les baisers, s’ils en avaient échangés, ressemblaient plutôt à des bises. Sur la joue, là où il était convenable de s’embrasser pour deux hommes. Mais ce soir n’avait rien de convenable, après leurs tristesses mutuelles et leurs embrassades intimes, ils avaient envoyé valser ce qu’il restait de convenable entre eux, pour une nuit au moins. Peut-être plus.

“Pourquoi tu dormais pas ? questionna Sylvain par curiosité.”

Il se redressa, posant sa tête contre l’épaule de l’autre, et leva les yeux vers lui. Son interlocuteur ne l’imita pas, mais il était bien conscient du regard posé sur lui.

“Je vais pas te dire que je sais pas, parce que je sais très bien, répondit-il honnêtement. Je pensais à toi. Vraiment, ton message, c’était comme le Messie.”

Sylvain rit et ne put s’empêcher de blaguer :

“C’est pour ça que tu as même pas pris la peine de me répondre avant de prendre la route ?

-Ouais, c’est vrai en plus, rigole pas ! Je me suis vraiment dépêché. Je sais pas, je déprimais et j’avais aussi très envie de te voir.”

Il risqua un regard en coin vers lui et vit la moquerie dans les yeux de l’autre homme. Il le repoussa.

“Arrête de me regarder comme ça, râla-t-il, c’est toi qui m’a envoyé un message désespéré !

-Oh, il était pas si désespéré que ça, se défendit Sylvain. Si ?

-Je vais pas te jeter la pierre, en vrai. Enfin, seulement si tu me la jettes pas non plus.”

Pierre tira à nouveau son homologue contre lui, passant son bras autour de ses épaules.

Doucement, Sylvain poursuivit le mouvement pour grimper sur Pierre, s’asseyant sur son ventre. Comme ça, il le surplombait et semblait très fier, faisant sourire celui en-dessous. Aucun commentaire ne passa les lèvres de ce dernier, cependant.

Pierre plia ses bras derrière son crâne en observant l’autre faire, parce qu’il ne savait pas trop où il voulait en venir. Il s’apprêtait à l’arrêter s’il tentait quelque chose sous la ceinture, mais il doutait que ça soit son intention. Et il avait raison : Sylvain se pencha seulement sur lui, lentement, fixant son visage. Trop souvent, son regard faisait des allers-retours entre ses yeux et ses lèvres. Il planta ses bras de part et d’autre du corps étendu, l’enserrant entre, se penchant de plus en plus en avant…

L’autre homme se sentait de moins en moins à l’aise, mais il le laissa faire. La proximité de leurs corps, dans cette position, n’était pas prévue et il paniquait, au fond. Des années à imaginer cette situation pour que le jour J, ses émotions ne le supportent pas. Il paniquait parce qu’une dizaine d’années à côtoyer le lit d’hommes ne l’avait pas préparé à côtoyer celui de cet homme, parce que son homosexualité, ses sentiments, ses émotions le rendaient faible face à lui. Ce n’était pas une position agréable, pour lui. Mais il laissa couler, impatient, inquiet, il avait hâte de voir ce qu’ils foutaient, là, il voulait s’en foutre. Il n’y arrivait pas, son cœur allait se décrocher de sa poitrine.

Le visage de Sylvain n’était plus qu’à quelques centimètres du sien. Celui-ci ne fixait plus ses lèvres mais bien ses yeux, l’air assuré, comme un chasseur ayant senti la peur de sa proie. Tout à coup, les rôles qu’ils avaient endossé tout à l’heure, dans le salon, étaient inversés. Sylvain chassait l’adrénaline et les réactions de Pierre, Pierre se battait contre des années de répression et une joie trop immense qui ne savait pas comment sortir.

C’était enivrant. Leurs souffles, tandis qu’ils ouvraient la bouche pour laisser passer leurs souffles déjà lourds, se mélangeaient entre eux. Oui, ils respiraient déjà fortement, à cause de la tension. Cela ressemblait drôlement à un moment fatidique de leur relation, un tournant, comment faire machine arrière après ça ? Mais qui des deux voulait ça ? Aucun. Personne. Ils voulaient faire mieux, avoir mieux que ce qu’ils n’avaient jamais eu avec l’autre, c’était à la fois très compliqué vu combien ils s’étaient donné dans leur amitié, et très simple, vu tout l’amour qu’il leur restait à partager.

Le souffle de Pierre se bloqua dans sa gorge. Sylvain s’était mis à sourire, il ne savait pas pourquoi, il redoutait la réponse. Enfin, non, il ne redoutait plus rien, son corps s’abandonnait au contact à venir, mais il appréhendait ce moment si longtemps attendu. C’était puissant, plus qu’il ne l’aurait imaginé, peut-être à cause de la fatigue.

Sans prévenir, Sylvain retira les lunettes de son homologue, replia les branches et les laissa sur la table de chevet, avant de faire l’inimaginable avant ce soir : il posa ses lèvres sur celles de son ami/amant. On lui avait dit de s’en foutre, il avait pris l’ordre au pied de la lettre, pour son plus grand bonheur, et avait lâché toute sa réserve. Il embrassait Pierre doucement, une de ses mains se posant sur sa joue, puis la deuxième, il tomba sur l’autre mais voilà ce qui était bien : il s’en foutait. Celui-ci ne laissa échapper qu’un soupir en sentant la masse s’affaisser sur lui, mais il ne broncha pas. Ses bras quittèrent leur place derrière sa nuque pour enlacer Sylvain, son amant.

Son amant.

Le mot sonnait terriblement bien à côté de son nom. “Sylvain mon amant”, celui qu’il aimait et qui l’aimait en retour. Il voulait pleurer mais se retenait, se concentrant sur les mains de l’autre sur son visage, sur son corps sur le sien, sur sa bouche aventureuse. Il avait stoppé le baiser, qui avait été trop court selon Pierre pourtant, pour embrasser ses joues, sa mâchoire, son cou…

Il y avait une certaine urgence dans ses gestes, et plus il embrassait sa peau, plus cette urgence était forte. Pierre en eut marre, il voulait l’avoir bouche-contre-bouche. Il le poussa sur le côté pour échanger leur position. Sans attendre, il se mit à l’embrasser, lentement, profondément, presque avec méthode. Il était moins nerveux, plus appliqué, Sylvain accepta de se soumettre à son rythme en répondant au baiser.

Et puis tout se tut, tout à coup. Les baisers cessèrent peu à peu, leurs cœurs et leurs corps ralentirent. Ils se séparèrent, essoufflés, et Pierre tomba à côté de son compagnon. Ils se traînèrent dans le lit pour retrouver leur précédente position : Sylvain dans les bras de son petit-ami. Un doute le prit, même s’il avait bien lu la situation :

“Tu veux… ?”

Il n’osait pas finir sa phrase. Coupé dans son élan, sa timidité était revenue. Pierre sourit en lui jetant un regard et embrassa sa tempe, parce qu’il lisait en lui comme dans un livre ouvert.

“Je veux quoi ? reprit-il, le poussant à finir sa question.

-Je me sens trop con, c’est une phrase de collégien, se plaignit Sylvain, laissant l’autre homme dans le flou.

-Mais dis-la ! s’impatienta-t-il.

-Tu veux sortir avec moi, du coup ? acheva-t-il enfin d’une petite voix.”

Et son interlocuteur ne put s’en empêcher, il pencha la tête en arrière pour éclater de rire, serrant l’autre homme plus fort. La question lui semblait rhétorique. Ça allait de soi, maintenant. Mais il y répondit quand même, avec une certaine tendresse :

“Faut que j’entoure la réponse sur un bout de papier ? Oui, évidemment, idiot.”

Et il embrassa à nouveau sa tempe, puis sa joue, puis son nez, ses lèvres enfin.

Le moment était tendre, incroyablement doux entre eux, après la ferveur du premier baiser. Pierre avait fermé les yeux et, bercé par son propre mouvement répétitif sur l’épaule de son amant, s’était endormi. L’autre homme n’y arrivait pas, pour l’instant, alors il s’amusait à le contempler.

Son visage était un peu différent sans ses lunettes. Ses cernes étaient plus visibles, même s’ils n’avaient rien à envier aux siens. Sa tête penchait sur le côté, à cause des muscles de sa nuque qui s’étaient relâchés. Il était toujours torse nu, alors le regard de Sylvain poursuivit son observation. Ce moment n’appartenait qu’à lui, l’autre homme n’en saurait rien, il pouvait bien se le permettre…

Mais la fatigue arrivait, peu à peu. Pierre n’aidait pas, comme il dormait déjà, avec son souffle régulier et sa présence aimante, apaisante… Sylvain éteignit la lampe de chevet qui avait été allumée par l’autre homme en entrant dans la pièce, qu’il n’avait pas eu le temps d’étendre. Puis il rabattit le drap sur leur embrassade, se calant contre le chaud pour s’endormir à son tour, marquant la fin de leur insomnie et de ce rêve éveillé.

#vilebrequin #vbq fanfic #sylvain levy #pierre chabrier #insomnia #gaytipla #my writing #night thoughts #unrequited love #unrequited feelings

[shoutsfromthedesert]

Oil on wood, h 8” x w 8”, 2022 I almost waited too long to paint this view of my friend’s porch as darkness engulfed us under a canopy of leaves. And then there were the mosquitoes….. it’s super brusque, but I like the way it turned out! #artcollector #pleinair #pleinairartist #pleinairpainter #pleinairpainting #pleinairpaintings #pleinairart #outdoorpainting #landscapepainting #oilpainting #impressionism #paintingfromlife #plein_air_life #smalltownlife #upstateny #hudsonvalley #nocturne #nocturnalwonderland (at Wappingers Falls, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CiFzAcssaof/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#artcollector #pleinair #pleinairartist #pleinairpainter #pleinairpainting #pleinairpaintings #pleinairart #outdoorpainting #landscapepainting #oilpainting #impressionism #paintingfromlife #plein_air_life #smalltownlife #upstateny #hudsonvalley #nocturne #nocturnalwonderland

[calibri-crossies]

Sudden meeting.

You lived in a small fishing town, obviously there were urban legends about nocturnal creatures, Sirens, that attacked and killed people, but you thought these were just rumours, an attempt to blame someone or something that was attacking people.

Your father had forgotten to collect one of the fishing nets, and to prevent him from throwing himself any further you decided to go in his place and do this job. Arriving on the boat to pick up the net you saw something was moving, you decided to pull it out to take a look.

It was at night, so the lighting was not the best, you turned on the flashlight you brought with you and held it in your mouth while trying to pull the fishing net with both hands. Still without success, you point the lighting directly at what was inside the net, and almost fall back with the fright you got.

A huge creature, similar to a man but...with a fish tail...a siren...?

You didn't have time to ask yourself how this was possible, or why there was soon one so close to the coast.He started to struggle, and he was so strong that his escape attempt began to rock your father's fishing boat, which wasn't small. would be able to take the boat with you.

"Hey, hey, wait!!–Don't move like that!!–You'll end up getting hurt more!!" You tried to calm him down, but he didn't seem to be listening. "I just want to help, I won't hurt you, I swear!!" This time he had stopped, but his chest was visible rising and falling fast.

You reassured him once more that everything was fine before starting to approach him slowly one step at a time.

"I'm just going to take the net out very slowly, but I need you to stay still,'kay?"

You say, and his eyes that looked like two icy blue orbs softened a little, he seemed to understand that you weren't going to do anything against him.You looked for the opening of the net and opened it completely so with that,the siren could pass through it.

"See? It's okay now, you're free—" Before you could finish your sentence as you pulled the net to put it away, you realized that creature was gone.

After that incident, it finally dawned on you what had just happened. You wouldn't tell anyone, maybe they thought you were crazy even if the rumors of sirens around the island weren't new and even some people believed on it.

You've decided to accept this as just your head.Until one day you were on your way back from a friend's house. It was nighttime, but not that late, you were walking along the rocky path that surrounded one side that was directly connected to the ocean by a "waterway", and something caught your eye. There were little shells there that glowed in various colors, and you couldn't resist the urge to pick one.

You accidentally stepped on a smooth rock and ended up slipping, falling into the water.

Not that you were in much danger, but someone pushed you out of the water by putting a hand on your back and helping you to your feet. You coughed up some of the water you swallowed and rubbed your eyes so you could see better. When you came across the same creature from a few days ago you were shocked to see it again, just as you were beginning to believe that it had all been just a lucid dream.

You tried not to react too brusquely not wanting to frighten him. You thank the siren and he responds with a slight nod, but still almost static in place.

You cautiously approach as you did the last time you saw him, and reach out to the siren who tilts its head to the side, confused by its action "My name is Y/n. What's yours?"

You cautiously approach as you did the last time you saw him, and reach out to the siren who tilts its head to the side, confused by its action "My name is Y/n. What's yours?" The siren puts his hand to his mouth and shakes his head. "You can't speak...?" You ask and he confirms with a slight nod.

The siren seemed to have an idea, he crawled to the sand, and despite your protests he continued, and began to write in the wet sand some letters a little crooked but still legible "Thomas...So that's your name?" You ask, having doubts if you read it wrong, but he nods again,what means a good signal.

You smiled at him again "Well...nice to meet you Thomas..."

Before you could extend this meeting any further, you heard the voices of people who were approaching. Worried they'd see Thomas, you helped him hide in the water before the people who were coming noticed and say goodbye to the siren.

In the end it was just the lookouts that were there patrolling, they asked if everything was ok because they heard brothers. They nodded and then let you go with a warning to be more careful.

As you walked back home, Thomas watched you carefully so as not to get caught. He didn't trust those patrolling men, and he was watching to see if they attacked you. In the end it only completely submerges when it was sure you were safe and could no longer see you from the water.

After that day, you were sure you weren't delusional, and curious to find out more about Thomas, you took charge of looking after your father's boat in the evening. Which he had gone against completely, but you managed to convince him after using as an argument that the old man needed to rest and you had done well the last time you had to take care of the boat. So your father gave in for you.

The day you stayed to take care of the boat. Your mother had prepared several sandwiches for you to eat during the night. You loved the food she made, but you thought it was a little extreme that she gave you so many sandwiches just for one night. Well your mother did at least worry and you were grateful for that.

You would love to see Thomas again, but you had no hope that he would return much less show up later that night. But you were surprised to hear a knock on the hull of the boat, and as you pointed the flashlight to the water there was the siren of the day before. "Oh, hey, do you want to... come up here?" You invited him to sit beside you on the edge of the boat, but Thomas wasn't sure that would be a good idea. "Come, no problem, no one comes here at this time." You tried to convince Thomas, and it looks like it worked. It was a little work for him to climb but you helped him and with that he was able to settle down and sit on the edge of the boat.

You stood there for a while, in silence. Sometimes you spoke your mind, with Thomas grunting back to say he was listening. You wondered if he had ever interacted with humans before. Thomas didn't seem very familiar with sicializing as he seemed nervous at first, but he gradually relaxed more with your presence.

You heard a strange noise coming from the siren. But it felt like his stomach was growling. You didn't think twice about offering him your sandwiches to eat. "Take this, you look hungry." He looks at the stuffed buns cut into triangles, then looks at you a little confused. "Don't worry. It's just food, why don't you try it?"

Thomas had never seen anything like that, no wonder. Each day it was a different fish, and that was all. He had never tasted human food before.

He narrows his eyes a little suspiciously but still takes the sandwich and risks taking a bite. But after the first bite he stops and is static with wide eyes. "Thomas…? Are you okay–" Before you could finish the question, the merman voraciously devoured the sandwich in his hand, which made you jump in fright at the sudden attitude, but you were glad he liked that.

He seemed to want more, so you gave him your bag full of sandwiches.In a few minutes there was nothing left in the bag."Wow, you really...didn't even leave one for me!!"You say with a mock upset tone. Thomas gets nervous and shakes his hands seeming apologetic. He didn't seem to understand that you were just joking. "Hey hey, take it easy buddy, I was just kidding, I'm not mad you ate it all." You reassured him, but he still seemed apologetic anyway. "Actually, I've never seen anyone who likes these sandwiches so much. My mom is happy whenever someone eats her food because it lets her know she's done something really good."

Thomas grunts in response. He for a moment is reminded of a human lady who took care of him for a while when he was a child, she always fed him the best fish she could, and didn't see him as a monster unlike any other humans he's already accidentally encountered before he met you.

While he was mentally rambling, you kept talking "Well she'll do more for me when I come here, I'll bring you more tomorrow,what you think?" You say, and looking at him you could swear you've never seen anyone in your life with such a bright gleam in their eyes. Thomas seems to have loved the idea, and grunts happily. "Okay, more sandwiches for you then buddy." You laugh at his excitement that was reflected in his tail which he wobbled a lot.

Yeah...sounds like you had a siren as a friend now.You wonder how it's going to affect your life from now on.

******************************

Merman Thomas concept here.

#slasher fandom #slashers #merman au #merman thomas #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #scenario #ask

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 37: The Thrill Of Running Away From Oneself

[TRIGGER WARNING: allusions to rape, blood and gore, violence]

I decide to walk home instead of taking a carriage. Well, to the mansion. I guess it is my home now, isn’t it? The walk takes over an hour, but I don’t mind. The cool night breeze feels pleasant against my skin as I make my way back. The outskirts of Paris are much darker than I am used to, completely lacking in artificial light beyond a couple gas lamps down the road.

I hear footsteps behind me. When I turn, I don’t see anyone, but the sound does not stop. It follows me from afar, amplified by my condition along with the chirp of nocturnal birds and the rustling of wind through the trees. I stop on the side of the road and wait, and soon enough, two men appear from beyond the point where the path curves. They must have been following me for a while to come this far out of the city.

I decide to ignore them and keep walking, slowly as to not trip on my untied laces. I should have known better than to give those men the chance to catch up to me.

“What are you doing out here all alone, mademoiselle?” one of them says, grabbing my shoulder. I brush his hand off and keep walking.

“None of your business,” I deadpan. “Leave me alone.”

He laughs, putting his hand on my shoulder again, this time more brusquely.

“Oh, but you see, we can’t do that, mademoiselle.”

“No, we can’t,” the other one chuckles. “It would be a shame for something to happen to you, all alone in the middle of the night like this.”

He joins the first man and forcefully grabs my arm. Now that they are up close, I can see that both of them are young. They look only a few years older than myself, on their late twenties at most. Still, their intentions are clear. I am overcome with the instinct to fight back and scream for help, but then I remember I am much stronger than I used to be. Meanwhile, these two are merely human, I have nothing to be afraid of. As they drag me towards the bushes on the side of the road, I let out a bored sigh.

“This? Really?” I chuckle, throwing them off. They look surprised for a second, but their grip on me remains tight. “Of all the nights you could have picked to attack me, this is by far the worst. I am not in the mood for this shit.”

“Shut up, woman,” the first one barks. He pushes me against a tree and reaches for my skirt as the other holds me down. I wait until he lifts the heavy fabric all the way up my leg to kick him in the shin, making him cry out in pain. The other hold me tight as he recovers, making sure to keep my arms still. “You’re a feisty bitch, aren’t you?” he growls before lifting his hand above my head. I give him a look of warning, but he ignores it, striking my cheek in full force. 

I laugh through the stinging pain as the man grabs my face and forcefully turns it to kiss me. I don’t budge when he does, ignoring the disgusting feeling of his wet sloppy lips on mine. The other’s hands move to my breasts, forcing them out of my corset to squeeze them painfully. However, my arms are free. A big mistake on his part.

I reach up to pull the first man’s head to the side by the hair, exposing his neck, and swiftly bite into his jugular. I wasn’t supposed to like it as much as I do. It was merely a way to fight back. But the abundant flow of fresh, warm blood that comes out, soaking both our clothes, makes me think otherwise. I feel powerful. And hungry, oh so hungry. Behind me, I hear the other man scream in horror as my victim falls to his knees. I let go of him and kick him out of the way, wiping the blood off my chin. Not that the gesture helps in the slightest; there is blood everywhere. 

“Do you have a toothpick, by any chance?” I merrily ask the other one, who seems to have frozen in place. “I think there’s some of your friend stuck between my teeth.” 

To emphasize my deceivingly lighthearted statement, I smile innocently. I can’t imagine what it would look like to him, my fangs bared and stained red from taking his fellow rapist’s life. He begins to scramble away, but I grab him by his coat before he manages to get too far.

“Please, please, don’t kill me!” he cries, falling to his knees. I let go of him and crouch before him so my eyes are level with his. “Please, mademoiselle! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, please!” he continues to babble. Fuelled by the rush the other man’s blood gave me, I tilt his chin up and delicately wipe his tears with my thumb. He grows quiet, seemingly calmer, although I am sure I can smell piss on his trousers.

“You should have thought about that when I warned you,” I point out. My voice comes out playful, musical, even. It doesn’t sound like my own. It belongs to another Anaïs, one that is thoroughly enjoying this massacre. I let her take over.

In an instand, I find myself straddled over this poor man’s body, ripping his throat out with my teeth. The blood continues to pour out long after he stops breathing. I drink every last drop of it I can manage, not stopping until I am satiated to the point of feeling sick.

No, I don’t think that’s the reason. As I come to my senses and my breathing slows to its normal pace, I look down at my hands. At my blood stained dress, at the man I have just murdered. I hastily stand up, horrified by my own actions. Shit, is this how Isaac felt that night? I can’t stand it. My brain is flooded with the image of two mauled corpses wearing suits, discarded on the side of the road in a puddle of their own blood. The gravelly path has been dyed red, as have my dress, my hair, and my hands. In the moonlight it looks almost black. I stumble away, but further down the path I am forced to lean against a tree to puke my guts out. Their guts. Someone’s, I can’t remember whose anymore. I retch and heave until nothing comes out, and once I catch my breath, I start running.

I sneak into the mansion through the kitchen, after having made sure that Sebastian is not there, and proceed to take my shoes off to avoid making any noise. It takes a lot longer to get to my bedroom, having to hide behind every corner of the hallway whenever I hear someone approach. I can’t let anyone see me like this. Le Comte will be furious. I rush down the hallway, only to stop in my tracks when I see Arthur standing in front of my door, preparing to knock. Shit.

Okay, I’m still fairly far, maybe I can leave before he sees me. The floor decides to creak when I turn on my heels. Apparently, I cannot.

“Anaïs?” he calls out. Shit. Fuck. He saw me. I slowly turn around and give him an awkward smile in a futile attempt to distract him from the fact that I look like Carrie. “By Jove, what happened to you? Are you alright?”

“I-it’s not my blood,” I mumble. Arthur, who was rushing to help me, stops in his tracks upon hearing the words.

“Anaïs...” he carefully enunciates with the parental tone that one might speak to an unruly child with, “What did you do?”

I sigh and push past him to walk into my bedroom and then to the bathroom. He patiently waits by my side as I remove my soiled clothing and open the faucet for my second shower of the day.

“I did something bad, Arthur,” I lament as I begin to fervently scrub my skin under the cold water, too impatient to get the blood off to wait for it to heat up. I start crying, but my tears mix with the stream washing over my head. “I fucked up. Like, really badly.”

“Where?” he asks from the other side of the curtain.

“What?”

“Where did you leave the body?”

He knows. That does not surprise me, though. It’s Arthur, of course he knows. But he has a point. If someone finds the men I killed, they might trace it back to the mansion. To us. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself so I can remember.

“They’re about a mile from Will’s house,” I manage to answer. “On that road that goes by the oat field.”

“They? Christ, Anaïs.” I don’t blame him, I would have reacted the same way. Through the shower curtain, I see his silhouette move. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, holding back a sob.

“To take care of it.”

The second I hear the door close behind him, I fall to my knees on the tiled surface. I killed those men. I’m a monster. I’m no better than William. No, I’m worse. He schemes and endangers people’s lives by playing stupid games, but I just murdered two people in cold blood. And I enjoyed it.

By the time Arthur gets back, I am sitting on the edge of the bed in a bathrobe, my face still puffy from crying. He brings tea and a bottle of rouge, which I decline, at first, but the pang of hunger in my stomach forces me to take. I quickly chug it down and discard the bottle on the tray, taking a cup of tea instead. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he softly asks. I shrug. I might as well address the elephant in the room, especially after he had to clean up my mess on the road.

“They tried to rape me,” I simply say before taking a sip of tea. It tastes richer than it used to when I was human, washing away the sweetness of the rouge. When I look up from my cup, I see pity in his eyes, and I am compelled to wave it aside. “It’s okay, it’s not the first time it happens. Women in my time might be able to vote, but we don’t have it much better.” I find changing the topic helps alleviate the tightness in my chest. However, I must keep talking. He deserves that much. “I usually carry a knife, or a brass knuckle, or something to defend myself with, but here... Well, I didn’t have any of that. I only had my fangs. And I was angry, and starving, and...” I can’t force myself to continue. I break down crying.

“Shhh, my dear, it’s alright,” Arthur comforts me, sitting beside me on the bed to rub my back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. They attacked you, you just did what you had to.”

“No, you don’t get it,” I complain. “I liked it, Arthur. I liked tearing their throats out with my fucking teeth, I liked feeling their bodies go limp in my arms as life left them. I enjoyed it too much, I-”

“I know, dove,” he interrupts me. By now, tears are flowing freely down my face, heavy with the hatred I feel for myself. “I know.” I lay my head on Arthur’s bony shoulder as he begins to stroke my hair.

“Does it ever stop?” I whisper. If this is what life as a vampire is like, I don’t think I want it. I am beginning to understand Jean more than I ever thought possible.

“It gets better. Those urges you feel now, they’ll become weaker. You’ll learn to deal with them.”

I notice how Arthur didn’t answer my question, not exactly, but I weakly nod anyway. My tears and wet hair are soaking through his sleeve, making it stick to his skin. I focus on him, on his warmth, on the mole I can see on his arm through the wet fabric, on the smell of coffee and lemongrass soap. On anything that helps me forget what I have become.

“So...” he begins, quietly, once I have stopped crying. “What were you doing at William’s house?” I exhale a deep breath when he brings it up. “Does it have to do with what happened last night?”

“Kind of,” I mutter. I let go of his arm and throw myself back on the bed. My eyes stare at the ceiling as I think of how to explain the situation. “I figured he might know something, so I went to find out... but I was wrong,” I lie. Arthur scrutinizes my face in search of a tell, but I am too tired and overwhelmed to have any sort of expression.

“Alright,” he finally decides before laying down beside me. “I’ll take your word for it. But let me know if you discover anything.”

I hold onto him, nodding into his chest, and he wraps his comforting arms around me. After laying for a while in silence, I remember something.

“How did you get rid of the bodies so fast?”

“Sebastian is no stranger to this kind of thing,” he explains. “When he first arrived, Isaac had a similar incident. He’s gotten used to dealing with unsavoury messes like that.”

“Oh.”

Soon after that, I drift off to a dreamless sleep, aided by the steady rhythm of Arthur’s breath, the raising and falling of his chest rocking my consciousness away. I truly do not deserve him.

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Not My Dog, You Dip! || Adam & Ariana

TIMING: Some time before Winn died PARTIES: @walker-journal & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: While taking a night time stroll through the woods with Luna, Ariana comes across a dip ready to attack her dog. Thankfully, Adam happens to be out hunting and they take down the vampire doggo. 

All Ariana had wanted was a nice, peaceful run through the woods with Luna. Despite the lack of sleep she was getting, she had enough pent up frustration to burn off that a run felt mandatory. Luna definitely had the energy for it and had been eager to weave in and out of trees alongside her. They really were so in sync with each other and Ariana couldn’t help but feel she found the perfect companion in Luna. It was why as she heard another dog-like animal approaching, she was quick to place herself between Luna and the very frightening looking dog. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath as if they all didn’t have canine hearing. Luna was barking now as the large black dog with glowing eyes approached. Definitely not a werewolf. Definitely not a normal dog. Definitely very quickly approaching them. She let out a warning growl and yelled, “Shoo.” The glowing eyes were still focused on Luna. Instinctively, she felt her bones beginning to shift under her skin and beginning to contort. If this dog wanted a fight, then a fight it would get. 

This evening Adam was hunting vampire dogs. Normally something that focused on the local canine population would be more Kaden’s territory. But after one of these alcohol-hating Dracu-dogos had interrupted a fraternity party, Adam had taken this bounty from the Silver Bullet on behalf of Friday vibes everywhere. Vampire Dog was the mutual intersection between Kaden and Alain’s mutual hate-boners, thus Adam felt a private sense of cheekiness at snagging while his elders were busy with possible stripe related matters if social media was anything to go by. 

Since the vamp-varmints were still near a residential area from all reports, Adam was limited to easily concealable weapons. This was a bummer because Dips were far stronger than humans, and could give even a friendly neighborhood mutant like Adam a run for his money. 

What if like...a Dip turned a Chiwawa? Would it still be a killing machine? If a Dip’s fur became midnight black, then would Dalmations keep their spots? 

These and other deep philosophical thoughts were running through Adam’s head when a painful ice-fire sensation brought goosebumps to prickle around his skin and alerted him to the presence of paranormal beings. The hunt had gradually led him from the latest suburban attack locations into the woods. The trucks of red spruce and white pine loomed above the Hunter ashe unholstered a pistol. Summer’s heat made the aroma of fallen needles and soil rise in a thick earthy musk from the ground as Adam tried to silence his footsteps on his way toward the source of the inhuman vibes. The frigid heat climbed up up his spine, throbbing in intensity as the non-human presences drew closer. 

Hiding in the brush put Adam in view of what was definitely a Dip confronting another dog and ...Soccer Girl? But it was Ariana that was the source of the second paranormal presence. The intensity of the paranormal vibes were growing stronger as bones shifted and muscles coiled beneath her skin. The cold rationality of Adam’s training dictated that he should let these two paranormals fight it out. Logically one would kill the other, eliminating one target and leaving the other in a weakened state to be easily finished off or at least not a potential threat to humans for a while. 

Not too long ago Adam would have obeyed procedure and let threats to mankind tear each other apart. But tactics feel very different when you know that the variables had names. 

“Hey! Soccer champ, back the hell up! That stray’s a vampire!” 

There was a low growl coming from her as this strange dog tried to approach and Luna was whining behind her. Ariana didn’t like this one bit. She’d been all ready to transform and just take the clearly monster dog the old fashioned wolf way until she heard a familiar voice. It caught her attention mid-shift and left her stuck in place with claws extending from her fingertips and tufts of gray and white fur on her arms. It was an uncomfortable spot in her transformation to be stuck in, but it still gave her a little more of an advantage against whatever this weird dog animal this was. 

Adam’s words took a moment to register and she swiped at the vampire dog before taking a step back, keeping herself between Luna and the other dog. “A vampire… dog? What,” she asked in a strained voice as she struggled to keep control of herself in his shift between human and wolf. Ariana arched her back slightly to make herself look bigger and let out a snarl which only gave the dog some pause. If it was a vampire, she was sure it had to be killed some special way. There was only a brief thought of why the hell this town had so many types of vampires before she called out, “So like… what the fuck do I do with it?” 

“You should get the hell out of here…. but if not then wait a sec,” noted Adam, a bit squeamish about endangering a teenager who hadn't necessarily been raised to fight monsters. He didn’t really get the vibe that Ariana was played along with that double standard, but at least she put her distance from the dip. “Close your eyes!” 

If Ariana cooperated, the Hunter fired a pistol round into the Dip. Actual bullets woundn’t have done anything, but there was a brief flash of intense light followed by the thick acrid scent of phosphorus. It wasn’t true sunlight, but the tracer round had been created to briefly overwhelm the vampire’s nocturnal senses. The pillared tree trunks and large midnight black dog were briefly cast into the sharp relief by the blinding blast like the figures of a Homeric tableau before momentarily the Dip stumbled and whined in the throws of overstimulation. 

“Heads up.” Adam tossed a water bottle overhead to to Ariana. “Water from the Chalice Well,” came the curt explanation of sacred water from a sacred spring in Glastonbury. “It’ll burn it.” 

His words took a moment to register as she was caught between states. Not that they mattered too much. Ariana had never been one to back down from a fight. Plus, this thing was after her dog. If anyone was doing the ass kicking around here it was her. She shot him a glare. “Fuck that,” she practically growled before she realized he was going to help instead of take over. She closed her eyes as instructed and took another step back to cover Luna’s eyes. “Fine, eyes are closed.” 

The sound of gunfire made Ariana flinch and Luna let out a whimper. Did he just shoot the thing? Did that even work for vampires? Her reflexes were sharp in the moment and she held tightly onto Luna’s leash and instinctively reached a hand up as Adam warned her to catch something. Her eyes were open now and the weird vampire dog seemed to be disoriented. She caught the bottle in her right hand and looked it over momentarily. Not her normal fighting tactic, but she agreed, “Okay, burn the fucker.” She fumbled slightly with the bottle with her still partially wolfy hands, but finally got the cap off before the dog completely rebalanced itself. She slung the water on it and it let out a loud yelp. “Do I just keep pouring water on it? Does that kill it?” 

“Nope,” Adam answered brusquely as he sprinted up from where he’d been poised in the brush. The Hunter holstered his pistol with the unconscious ease of motion that years of practice instils. Adam had always been more of a kinesthetic learner, and required rote repetition to pick up the more academic aspects of hunting that his more intellectually gifted peers had gotten naturally. But in criticals moment his body and reflexes knew what to do, and Adam quickly navigated the root-covered distance between himself, Soccer girl, and the vampire dog. 

Adam drew a stake of white oak, the pale wood stark in the waning crepuscular light. He tossed a spare to Ariana if it looked like she could handle both that and the holy water. The Hunter attempted to circle the Dip from the other side, even as the vampiric canine already showed signs of its burned flesh slowly regenerating with a sickening slither of meat rebinding to bone.  

The Dip struck with a speed that the human eye couldn’t easily follow, it’s body seeming to become one with the growing darkness. For a single moment it appeared to vanish and the evening gloom grew fangs. The trails of red ripped into the Hunter’s bicep as Adam rolled back from the indistinct dark shape a millisecond too slow. 

“It’ll need a stake to the heart,” Adam grunted as scarlet rivulets of blood began to snake down his arm. 

Every sense in her body was on high alert and her heart was thudding loudly against her chest. Ariana let out a groan that sounded somewhere in between human and wolf when Adam told her the holy water wasn’t going to completely do the trick. “Ugh,” she grumbled and kept a close eye on the vampire dog. She wanted to lunge and engage in a ferocious fight. Her bones were practically screaming for it as she was torn between states. She had to keep it together though. Both her dog and another person were here, but this was so much harder than just being fully a wolf. 

The discomfort was easy enough to ignore when there was a threat present. Technically, two if she was going to count the hunter, but it seemed they were working together well. He wasn’t going to try to kill her after this, right? Nope, she couldn’t think of that if she wanted to keep control. The flesh on this dip thing was already regenerating and she caught the stake Adam threw her way. For a moment, it drew her attention away, but when she looked back up, the thing was lunging toward Adam. “Watch out,” she yelled with a hint of a snarl in her voice. Her warning came too late and she cringed as she watched it bite Adam. Luna was whimpering in the background and her purpose was clear as Adam spoke. Stake the stupid vampire dog. 

Instinctively, she lunged forward as Adam shook the dog off him. She tackled the dog to the ground as she tried to keep the stake steady in her hand. She had a fairly decent idea of canine anatomy considering she was kind of a canine in a sense. It turned out she couldn’t hold the damn thing down and get a good grip to stake it. “I’ve got it pinned, quick, stake it.” Then hopefully get the hell away from her. It’d take a moment for the smell of his blood to be not quite so overwhelming. 

Adam had a distinctive childhood of being taught the best penetrative point between ribs before he could recite A through Z, the former being arguably the more practical for life experience. The hard knot-like heart that canines possessed was a trickier shot then bipedal targets, and Adam was grateful for Arianna’s help holding the Dip down as he visualed a point roughly six inches deep in the chest and drove down the white oak stake. 

There was the cold sickly sensation of undead blood across his hands and the brief resistance of flesh before the stake’s progressive became squishy and slick. Then there was suddenly no resistance against Adam at all as the Dip suddenly collapsed into dust.

Adam staggered to his feat, dust-covered stake still clutched in his one functional hand, trying to apply pleasure to the arm wound as he warily backed away from the Werewolf caught in a pre-frenzied state. All sense of friendly cooperation had vanished from Adam’s expression, replaced by calculation as he argued whether Ariana was about to charge him or not. 

As the dog vanished to dust, Ariana slowly backed away and took a few deep breaths. The claws in her hands hurt and the smell of Adam’s blood was calling to her. How good he would taste briefly crossed her mind and she shook the thought away. He was clearly a hunter, too, which wasn’t comforting. She kept a close eye on him as she heaved a few shallow breaths. “Stay back-- I just,” she cringed and leaned back against the tree, “I need a minute.” 

Her breaths felt shallow and her heart was still pounding in her chest. She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t kill her next, but he had tried to help. They hadn’t talked much previously. She knew she could trust Rio, Athena, and Kaden. Adam she wasn’t too sure of and it left her feeling more on edge than she should be in her current state. She remembered Celeste’s calming voice and the way she always instructed her to breathe. She focused on Luna and took a few slow steady breaths. The smell of blood was still in the air, but it was getting easier to ignore as claws and fur disappeared back under her skin. A few more slow breaths and she looked up to Adam, trying to hide any sign of uneasiness. “Okay, I’m fine now. The whole half state thing is a little rough, but I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

She paused for a moment and asked, “You’re not going to hurt me now, are you?” It was apparent he was a hunter, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. Still, she felt inclined to humanize herself to him. “You knew my sister, Celeste-- she was a hunter too. Technically she was my guardian, but I was born like this and she raised me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone… unless you’re like a bleeding heart for the deer population, but I’m good-- I’m fine. You can ask Kaden, Athena, or Rio! Hunters like… know each other, right?” 

Adam didn’t seem particularly reassured by Ariana’s claims, having watched her reassert control over her form with an expression more appropriate to observing a forest conflagration hit a firebreak. The air was thick with the scent of blood, necrotic dust, and woodland pine. Adam’s shoulders rose and fell with carefully regulated breathing as he stayed in a guarded stare, hard brown scrutinizing Arianna between flicking to the woodland trails and shadowed copses of trees around them, as if she might cut loose a howl which would fill the forest’s quiet with reinforcements. 

But as Ariana started mentioning familiar names, uncertainty played across Adam’s features, the cold resolve of being trained to face one threat after another faltered in a furrowing of brows and a subtle shift of posture. 

“Didn’t plan on hurting Celeste’s kid sister no,” Adam admitted truthfully, the name bringing on a prick of pain. “You're just walking your dog and feeding soccer balls to alligators, doesn’t exactly carry a death sentence,” the footballer noted a big curtly as he shifted his attention to the bite wound on his shoulder. 

Whatever Adam saw in the wound elicited a long exhalation between his lips.   

“I’m might be going to bug out and try to drink your blood soon,” the Hunter told Ariana with casual matter-a-factness as if this was a natural progression for the conversation. “So You should probably get home.” 

With a quick whistle and a wave of her hand, Ariana called Luna back over to her who seemed eager to nudge into her legs. They were both okay and Adam wasn’t about to get kill happy on her. As much allowed her to relax a little bit. “Right, cool, okay,” she began still trying to collect her thoughts, “I mean, I don’t think it does either, but I know some hunters think because of what I am-- Just I’m glad you’re not like that.” 

His statement was confusing, but she nodded along and gave him a wave. “Home, yeah, I’ll do that. Uh, thanks for the help with the weird vampire dog. My approach definitely wouldn’t have worked.” It was only a little unnerving that her fight instinct would only get her so far. “Just… I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Be safe.” With one last glance, she began to lead Luna home still confused by that whole encounter.

#wickedswriting #not my dog you dip #adam

[nocturne-inuyasha-ff]

Chapter Eleven: Stranger Things

Yes, the chapter title is a tribute!) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Nocturne - Chapter Eleven: Stranger Things

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Tsering fumed in her seat. She had thrown herself back into a large chair that she'd had moved into the main room of a particularly shabby looking great hall. She audibly sighed as she ascertained her surroundings. Aside from the drab and barbaric decor, there were two yokai battling in the middle of the large room, surrounded by several onlookers who ignored her presence while yelling and taking bets. The sound of the room was a loud cacophony of grunts, howls, and angry muttering. Funny how easy it was to take these pathetic underlings' minds off of the unfortunate circumstances following her arrival to their base.

Tsering's gaze moved around the great room, and she rolled her eyes at the sight. Savages. She'd let them have their fun for now. It was all she could do to stop the incessant groveling.

She had quietly revisited the yokai from when she'd first arrived in Nippon, the same yokai who had killed her Sonam. There had not been time to get the cretin's name, and Tsering had certainly not cared to do so. Sonam had been her trusted companion for many centuries and her favorite retainer. His death had a marked impact on her only tempered by her fury at being passed over by her former betrothed, Sesshomaru.

How annoying it had been to learn she'd been refused. Had this been the first time, she may have sulked with her pride still intact, but this was beyond insulting. To be passed over by the same family was salt in an open wound.

Her lips pressed into a firm line, and she ground her teeth. Tsering was beautiful. It would be a lie to say otherwise, and she threw her arms together in a petulant fashion. What had turned her prospective suitors away?

Throwing her head back, she stared into the eyes of the yokai she had killed. His dark eyes stared wide with shock, permanently open. His head had been affixed to the post of the chair. She'd lodged it there after killing him. Something about those dead eyes soothed her ruffled feathers; if only a fraction.

The stupid man had been surprised by her visit, and more surprised when she lopped his head clean from his shoulders with his blade. Granted, it was outside her usual preference for handling those who'd offended her, but this was a special case that called for a more personal touch.

Dried blood had dripped down the back of the chair, leaving trails of brown caked to the wood of the ornamental throne chair.

Tsering stood and began to pace back in forth on the dais where the chair had been placed. The men below continued to battle and gamble, paying her as little heed as she was them. She waited impatiently for her remaining attendant to return. Keyuri, her female hanyo, had been sent out to find the extent of the great Sesshomaru's crimes.

Tsering had speculated that the human woman she'd encountered held more significance to Sesshomaru than he'd let on. She also knew that the mixed-blood whelp she'd been refused was more than it seemed. Certainly, Keyuri would bring back the news confirming her suspicions.

As soon as Sesshomaru had ostensibly refused their engagement and mating ceremony, Tsering had secretly followed him back to Nippon. She despised the idea of returning to this godforsaken place, but it had been necessary. She had to know the extent of his transgression.

Upon arriving in Nippon, Tsering sent out Keyuri to follow Sesshomaru. The hanyo had a unique ability, one that she found quite indispensable. The hanyo had no yoki, and her scent was nondiscriminatory. She was invisible to any who did not know to look for her, and that was what made her an asset to Tsering. An asset, but an annoyance as well. The hanyo could offer nothing up in conversation because her tongue had been removed early in life. Her brother, Fan, had orchestrated that.

Fan had stated that hanyo's should be seen and not heard, so one day, when he listened to the offensive sound of laughter from Keyuri, he removed her ability to speak. Fan had made the excuse that slaves had no place to talk, and he would not tolerate the proliferation from those as low as the hanyos they had bred.

Making Keyuri mute had made her boring, at least in Tsering's opinion. Her options for companionable conversation were already limited as they were. She could speak with her brother, when and if he was present, or Sonam, who was now dead. Sonam had been the best retainer she could have ever asked for. He was meek, loyal, and cunning. The fact that some obscure Nippon yokai had slain him for no reason grated upon her and caused her to dirty her hands.

Tsering's thoughts circled back to the yokai who killed Sonam. The idiot yokai had not suspected a thing. She had arrived upon his doorstep, looking demure and beautiful only to take his head after he had invited her into his bed. Men were wanton fools, eager to bed anything with a pair of breasts, and this yokai was no less a fool. She had made sure he knew who he had offended before she lopped his loathsome head from his brusque shoulders. Good riddance, she thought. At any rate, his household could serve as her base of operations now that she was no longer welcome at Sesshomaru's court.

How asinine of him to expel her so suddenly during their pilgrimage through the motherland. He had not even bothered to wait to leave in the privacy of their adjoined chambers, instead of breaking things off by simply walking off wordlessly.

When she'd called after him, confused by his actions, he had not even troubled to turn around to address her, merely saying he had changed his mind and that their union was no longer in his best interest.

The fool! Her court had been gossiping nonstop right after that. Tsering Dawa had been passed over not only by the father but also by the son. How humiliating!

Tsering assumed that this is what her brother Fan had hoped to achieve. He was ever conniving and looking for a fight. He had only been too pleased to learn that Sesshomaru was looking for a bride to produce an heir. She'd thought that Fan was interested in allies, but that could not have been further from the truth. She should have known how this may play out.

It was not that Tsering was upset over the loss. She was quite relieved not to be engaged at all, preferring the company of others, but one did as Fan told them. She, however, was quite annoyed that Sesshomaru had deposed of her so openly and coldly. It had made her wonder if her theories were correct.

So, she had sent Keyuri out shortly after following Sesshomaru back to Nippon. Tsering knew that even the great Sesshomaru could not detect Keyuri as he had overlooked her several times during their short stay at his estate.

Tsering sat back down and waited in the chair, one arm holding her chin while the other hand drummed rhythmically on the other arm. It had been over a day since Keyuri had been ordered out, and Tsering was not a patient woman. She had passed the time by ordering the household around. They had been cowed by her as soon as she'd announced their master's death. Just a few henchmen were all that were left out of the ones who had fled. Tsering could not care less. She had then ordered them to battle for her favor, which the remaining yokai were obliged to do. Still, she felt bored while they hacked one another to pieces.

Keyuri finally returned the next morning. Despite being mute, the hanyo was able to share everything that Tsering had wanted to know.

"Was he with that human woman?" Tsering asked with indignation.

Keyuri, her head, and her eyes focused on the ground in deferment gave a nod of affirmation.

Tsering hissed at the insult. To have a human chosen above her was more salt in the wound, ground deep. It did not matter that Sesshomaru and the mortal may have had history, or attraction. What did matter was that he had chosen the human. He could have rutted the girl, kept her as a mistress, for all Tsering cared. But to be passed over a second time was a slight that could and would not be overlooked.

"And the get?" Tsering asked, already knowing the answer. She drummed her claws even harder on the wooden chair, leaving deep score marks upon the lacquered wood.

Keyuri nodded again, never once bringing her eyes from the ground. Humility had been ingrained into the hanyo from a young age. She had learned to keep her head down to stay alive. The brother, Fan, liked to toy with her more than any of the other hanyos under his keep.

Tsering scoffed at the revelation. "I knew it," she proclaimed darkly.

She stood up and turned away from Keyuri. The sight of the hanyo only caused her irk to rise further. The dead eyes of the yokai she had killed continued to stare from where she had impaled it upon the chair. Taking her hands, she cupped the sides of the head and pulled it up. It came off the post with a squelching sound and bits of thickened and black blood clots dropped to the ground, splattering at her feet. Tsering looked into those dead eyes, her lips turned down into a frown, and she pressed the skull between her two palms exerting just enough pressure to feel the bone cave under her touch. The skull finally gave way, and the brain matter became ooze as it squeezed through her fingers.

Satisfied, or as satisfied as she could be, she turned around and looked upon Keyuri, who still stood, head downcast, and waiting. Tsering took several steps towards the woman and brought her soiled hands up. Keyuri held out her arm, and Tsering wiped her hands upon the fabric of Keyuri's sleeve. Without another word, Tsering stalked from the room.

The time had come to return home and share the news with her brother. The man was likely waiting for such communication.

o - o - o - o - o

Kagome shook her head in disbelief, pulling Setsuna closer to her chest. Sesshomaru's words echoed through her mind, 'Now, they know of you and the child.' Though he had not used any particular tone, his words still had an ominous sound to them. What were the implications?

"I don't understand. Who is the 'DaiŌzoku,' and who is the hanyo woman?" What had transpired, she wondered, that gave Sesshomaru pause? He did not seem perturbed, per se, but the way he stared off into the distance gave her enough cause to worry.

Rin stared at the trio in perplexion. "Lord Sesshomaru?" The girl had only just walked into the madness of the situation, but even she could tell that something was amiss.

He expelled a breath through his nose, flashing a glance to the women and infant child. His hand gripped the hilt of Bakusaiga, the only physical tell of his disturbance. "In coming here, I have forsworn the engagement arranged with Tsering Dawa."

Even though Kagome figured - had hoped - that Sesshomaru had called off his engagement, it was reassuring to hear it stated aloud. It was not the appropriate time to preen under that knowledge, though. "So, why would they come back here?"

"It is not just the woman I've scorned, but her brother," he explained. "It will only be a matter of time before he learns of my transgression against him."

Brother? Kagome wondered. What would that have to do with anything? "What's the significance behind that? Why should this brother care so much? He wasn't marrying you."

Sesshomaru expelled another quick breath. "This is not the first time Tsering has been passed over. She had first been betrothed to my most honorable father; however, he settled upon my mother instead."

"You-you're mother?" Kagome asked exasperatedly. That would mean that Tsering was even older than Sesshomaru, who she'd believed was just over nine centuries. The thought of that much time passing caused a small twinge of regret to course through her — just another thing she had no time to worry about just yet.

Sesshomaru continued, "The first insult was a slight overlooked only because of the status of my mother, though, I doubt that the slight was truly forgotten nor forgiven."

Rin laughed, her voice a tinkling sound that broke the severity of the situation. "Eww. You almost married a lady that your father was a suitor for, Lord Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru shot the girl a displeased look. "Marriage alliances work differently for yokai, Rin. Bear in mind that Tsering is still of marriageable age in terms of Mononoke. Our union was not for love, but to broker an alliance between our two families."

Kagome shook her head. None of this made sense yet. "Who was that then, if not Tsering?" Just saying the woman's name made her tongue feel ashen. There was no reason to feel jealous, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness when she thought of Sesshomaru with someone else, someone who could give him what she could not.

"The DaiŌzoku have a different, lesser appealing, stance on hanyos than I. They use them as slaves. The hanyo woman was Tsering's retainer, called Keyuri. The hanyo woman does not have any detectable yoki, and I am unable to sense her."

"And, she...she was here. What did she see?" Kagome asked nervously. Her cheeks began to burn as she thought of the event that had happened just moments ago. That was embarrassing to think that someone had watched or listened to them during their throes of passion. Even young Rin didn't know the extent of it, though she had just walked up.

Sesshomaru's brow piqued. "All she needed to take back to her master."

"What does that mean for us?" Kagome asked, lifting the baby in a gesturing motion.

He looked down at the child who'd begun to dose in her mother's arms. "I do not know. Nothing good, presumably."

Kagome thought about it for a moment. "Are we in danger then?"

"Likely," was his one-worded response. Again, though the word by itself was not damning, the way he said it made it sound inevitable.

Rin looked between Sesshomaru and Kagome with a worried expression marring her gentle features. "This is troubling news Lord Sesshomaru."

Her lord responded with a 'Hnn.'

Kagome was not one to sit around and wait. She had to busy herself someway, somehow. "Then what should we do? We can't wait around for this Tsering woman to do something."

"It is not Tsering that poses the most immediate threat," Sesshomaru advised. "Tsering is subtle and conniving, and while she should not be underestimated, It is her brother that I would deem the largest threat."

"Her brother?" Kagome asked.

"Yes, he is called Fan Tsenpo."

o - o - o - o - o

Fan Tsenpo watched the pair approach in bemusement. He'd sent his sister just earlier this year to solidify her union with the male Inu from Nippon, and here she was, returning empty-handed with her tail between her legs. Tsering had tried her best to look unbothered, but she was never any good at disguising her feelings. The woman was transparent for any who knew where to look, and Fan always knew. He could tell by the shift in her eyes that she had failed in her endeavors.

He could have cared less about the union. The alliance brought by the union would not have helped him in any fashion. Fan was already powerful and well connected. What use was the alliance of some barbarian warlord? No, Fan was not the least bit upset by his sister's abrupt arrival in his court. He'd secretly hoped for something like this to happen. Anything for an excuse to challenge the man who's lineage had slighted his family not once, but twice.

Fan had centuries to plan this, and all of the pieces were falling into place quite nicely. He grinned a jovial smile, which was well known across the land to have an ulterior meaning.

Tsering approached and dipped her head in reverence, her lackey behind her. Fan raised a brow at his sister. It had not gone beneath his notice of her missing hanyo. She always traveled with a pair, which she considered to be a sign of good luck. Good luck, indeed. There was never any balance with his sister, for she was as tumultuous as the sea.

Fan laughed a bright and hearty laugh that resonated through the grand hall. "You go through your retainers like a child through clothes. I do not have any to spare at the moment. Perhaps if I am so inclined, I can make one for you later."

Tsering shrugged nonchalantly. She struggled to assume that the loss had not bothered her. "That will not be necessary, brother. I quite liked Sonam."

Fan stretched upon his pillows, which were strewn about on a dais, located at the end of a long and airy hall. He threw up a leg and propped his head upon his hand. "Suit yourself," he waved his other hand with disinterest. "Pray tell, why are you returned, dear sister? Are you not wedded and with child by now?"

Tsering quivered before answering. He had hit a sensitive nerve; it would seem. His smile deepened while he waited for her answer. "The bastard Sesshomaru. He has taken up a human woman," she explained through gritted teeth.

Everything was falling into place. "I see. How amusing. I'd heard his father, your former fiance," he said, knowing it would cut a nerve, "fell victim to a similar penchant. It would seem the apple does not fall far from the tree."

Tsering rolled her eyes and looked away. She would not meet Fan's eyes to admit the rest of her story. "He has bred with the woman as well."

Fan shrugged. Now, this was exciting news to learn. "Why should I care where the bastard sticks his dick?"

She threw a glare at her brother. Her eyes soon turned cold. "Have you heard tell of the younger brother? Also, the progeny of Inu Taisho?"

No, he had not heard of another whelp born from the bastard Inu Taisho. His smile faded before it was caught and put back in place. "Brother?"

Now it was Tsering's turn to give a small smile knowing she had provided information her all-knowing brother lacked. "Yes, a hanyo."

"Why is that of any concern of mine?" Fan rolled onto his back and allowed his legs to splay out before him. The news was intriguing and beguiling. Hanyos had been used by their family for centuries but looked down upon by yokai and humans alike everywhere else. Fan had a proclivity for the creation of hanyos, one that he'd discovered centuries ago.

"You recall a certain dragon, do you not?" Tsering asked, breaking Fan out of his thoughts.

He considered for a moment. "If memory serves, I sent a dragon to pester Nippon centuries ago." Why was this woman bringing that up now, he wondered. "And the dragon served its purpose."

Tsering allowed a small smile to creep deepen upon her features. She seemed to know more than she was letting on and giving out information bit by bit. It was enough to drive anyone mad, but something Fan was accustomed to. He recalled the dragon. How could he not? It had taken long enough to put those pieces into play. "Yes, but the dragon had only been sealed until recently," she toyed.

Fan felt his irk rise, but his face did not belie his inner feelings. He smiled but growled, his eyes gleaming with cold anger. "Dammit, woman. Why do you taunt me with bits and pieces? I grow annoyed with this banter. Explain!"

His sister bit her lip to keep from grinning. "It was the younger brother who killed what the father could not."

Fan smirked. "You jest." Then he laughed aloud. With his experience of hanyos, there was not a chance in hell one could best what a daiyokai - even that of the stature of Inu Taisho - could not.

"You know I do not." Tsering shook her head.

The woman was serious, Fan noted. Her eyes told it all. Fan looked over at the mute woman behind his sister. She had not moved once since walking up to his throne. Fan wondered if such potential lay underneath her unassuming exterior. "Defeated? By a mere hanyo?" He was incredulous. The thought was absurd.

"Yes."

"And you say he has whelped one of his own?" 'He' being the Sesshomaru.

"Yes," Tsering repeated.

Fan clapped his hands above his head. The sound resonated through the hall, and a lesser yokai appeared, hurrying down the long hall.

Fan sat up and stared at the servant who was now prostrate before him. "Summon the great Sesshomaru," he instructed. "Do ensure that you inform him that to refuse will only serve to displease me."

It was Tsering's turn to laugh. "What if he does not come, brother?"

"He will come." There was naught else to it. The daiyokai Sesshomaru would come and kneel at Fan's feet, and Fan would have the man right where he wanted him.

"What makes you so certain?" Skeptical, Tsering's brow rose.

Fan brought a thoughtful hand to his chin, stroking his smooth face with a thumb. "I should think I know him well enough to entice his appearance."

"And what will happen should he refuse? You must realize he will."

"One word should suffice. Ryūkotsusei. And if that does not serve a good enough reason - which will - tell him that I shall help myself to his human and create a hanyo to replace the one you lost."

o - o - o - o - o

Tsering watched as the servant yokai was dispatched with a message to Nippon. It would not take long for the messenger to reach Nippon and deliver the message to Sesshomaru. If only she could be there when he learned the news. How she would love to be near to taunt him. He would dare to deny her? The man would learn his place in the order of the world. The DaiOzuko reigned supreme, and the lesser yokai, even those who deigned to call themselves daiyokai, were lesser beings.

She had left her brother to his machinations and dismissed Keyuri to do whatever it was the woman did when she was dismissed. Tsering had only ever seen the woman stand around in corners, and it caused her to scoff at the sight. To think of the blood that ran through the hanyo's veins. That was another reason that she hated being saddled with the hanyo. Her retainer was so dull that Tsering could not stand to be around her any more than necessary. She needed to replace Sonam and soon. The monotony of Keyuri's company was enough to drive anyone insane.

Walking through the vast halls was eerily quiet. Fan preferred it that way, and none of his indentured servants would ever speak even if they had been directly addressed. Tsering found the entire estate quite macabre. As she walked down the hall to her private rooms, she could hear the grunting of someone. The voice was feminine but low. Tsering looked around to confirm that no one was about. No one would stop her, the sister of their lord, from going where she pleased, but Tsering preferred not to let the gossip spread in her brother's foreign court. Even though things were eerily quiet and the residents of the castle were stricken mute, either by design or by predilection, gossip would still spread like wildfire behind closed doors.

She walked up to a set of sliding doors that had not been closed all the way. Through the paper walls, she could see a pacing figure. Tsering stopped just outside the door and peered inside. There were several lesser yokai mingling in the room, watching the pacing figure with hungry eyes. Another grunt of pain erupted from the lips of the woman, and she turned to walk the other way, revealing her large, distended belly that poked through barely tied robes. The woman had long dark hair that flew behind her unbound as she walked the floor. Her skin was creamy, white, and devoid of facial markings, and she bore perfectly red lips that parted to let out heavy breaths.

A human woman. An expectant mother and one that looked every bit a royal princess. Tsering's brows drew together in perturbation and cocked her head to the side, causing her coronet to tinkle with sound. The sound, soft as it was, drew the attention of the yokai in the room, whose heads swiveled in her direction. They noticed the slightly opened door and finally, who peered into the room. Without rising, they all bowed their heads in deference at their lord's most honorable sister. The human woman followed her onlookers' gazes and saw Tsering staring back at her. The woman grabbed at her large middle and looked at Tsering with pleading eyes, but dared not speak a word. Their eyes remained locked until the human's eyes squeezed shut, and she doubled over with pain. Tsering took the opportunity to move on with haste.

It would seem her brother had not quit the practice of making hanyos after all. It had been a rather long time since Sonam and Keyuri's creation, but then again, Tsering made it a habit to keep out of her brother's affairs. She'd learned long ago that his rage knew no bounds. Not even family were spared his invoked wrath. She shook her head and the thoughts from it. There was more to worry about that directly affected her. As long as she kept in Fan's good graces, she would be free from his irk. This only meant she could not idle long here before he drew her into his machinations.

A sigh escaped her as soon as she reached her rooms. Tsering did not typically linger at her brother's court, but she held rooms here for privacy. She much preferred the cold air palace she kept in the eastern Himalayan mountains. It was the land of her birth, and she quite preferred it to the dryer climate of the south. Her brother had preferred the pomp and circumstance surrounding that of the lowlands and had left their family's ancestral home as soon as he was able. His lust for power always at war with his pride and sense of honor.

Tsering stalked through her room and stopped at the window overlooking the gardens outside. Her brother's palace was a sprawling one, nearly dwarfing the human imperial palace located in the Forbidden City. Tsering chuckled at the thought. Humans. They were so short-lived and could not even come up with ideas of their own, instead preferring to mimic the designs of the superior daiyokai. It was a mockery of something divine, but Fan had not cared to put the humans in their rightful place. He assured Tsering that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, even if it was unintended. That was true, at least. Anytime she had cause to be near humans; she could not help but notice that their ideas of fashion resembled her own. Could they be faulted for aspiring for something entirely outside of their reach? Like her brother said, let them have this, for they have nothing else.

The sun was beginning to set upon the grounds, casting golden lights upon the palace and the gardens. Tsering had sat in her room, thinking hard about her next move. She had chosen not to divulge to her brother news of the healing sword. She had milked the imp retainer for all the information he had, and still, she was sure she had not learned everything she desired. She only found that the sword was named Tensaiga, and it even had a sibling blade, though the hanyo brother wielded that one, and the imp described it as useless to daiyokai. The blade Tensaiga could resurrect 100 beings back with one swing. That was useful information that Tsering could not allow to fall into her brother's hands. Not yet.

She determined it was prudent to remain for when Sesshomaru answered his summons. Tsering wondered what her conniving brother had planned. He would not extend an invitation arbitrarily. There was something else at play, and she knew it must be figured out before those plans were put in motion.

#Chapter Eleven #Stranger Things #Nocturne #Tsering Dawa #Sesshomaru #Sesskag #Kagome

[violettesiren]

My heart is heavy

like an enormous stone

subduing me, obstructing me

not letting me get up...

oh, the night

nowhere near ending

insomnia flickers

in wheeling shadows

Shadows that count the beats

of my swollen womb

shadows that twist my hair

and sink long fingers in my mind

As the deep round beat continues

I'm wide awake

clock that hurts tightly

wound clock

I can't rest

Alert to this tyrannical tick tock

if I start to fall asleep

the brusque beat awakens me!

My heart's heavy as a stone

I can't quiet it

I can't toss it in some corner

like an old toy...

Nocturnes by Magda Portal (Translated by Kathleen Weaver)

#magda portal

[reel-hannibal]

Reel Hannibal 2019 Masterlist

Happy Hanniween, Fannibals! Thanks so much to everyone who participated despite the unexpected hiccups - we really appreciated your patience <3

And now, on this perfect Hannibal holiday, here is the masterlist of all the wonderful entries for Reel Hannibal 2019!

Title: all fools in love Creator: @slowestdive​ Inspired by: Pride and Prejudice Summary: A Pride & Prejudice AU featuring Will as Elizabeth, Hannibal as Mr. Darcy, and really just an excuse to draw these two being utterly in love with each other in period outfits Art: HERE

Title: The Real Husbands of Sarmatia Creator: Tigerprawn Inspired by: The Real Housewives of [...] Summary:  Previously on The Real Husbands of Sarmartia:  Galahad, 29 “Tristan?” Galahad makes a point of rolling his eyes for the camera. “I mean, okay, he’s good at his job. I’ll give him that. But why does he spend the whole day in those short shorts? Okay, so it gets hot around here. But then why doesn’t he get a haircut if it’s so hot? Well, I guess it is hot and he’s out by the pool… getting wet. With the pool water.”Galahad’s phone bleeps. “Wait…” He frowns at his phone. “What the fuck is goat yoga?”::Close up of goats bleating:: Fic and Banner: HERE

Title: Spacedust Creator: @victorineb​ Inspired by: Stardust Summary: Adam has wished for two things in his entire life: to marry Beth, and to visit the stars. When he and Beth see a falling star one night, he sees a chance to have both at once, and promises to find the star and bring it back to his beloved so that she will see that he's worthy of her hand. The star, though, has different plans... A Spacedogs/Stardust AU, in which stars can talk, men can fly, and true love can be found in the strangest of places. Fic and Banner: HERE

Title: Underground Lights Creator: @fhimechan​ Inspired by: Hercules Summary: Once upon a time, Will traded his soul for Alana's life. Luckily, Chilton wants to save (and marry) him. An Hercules AU where Will is Meg, Hannibal is Hades, Chilton is Hercules and True Love always wins. Fic: HERE

Title: Sweet dreams Creator: @acheforhim-fic​ Inspired by: Black Mirror Summary: Tortured by nightmares, Will Graham gets a Nocturnal Companion – an AI who will share and moderate his dreams, and hopefully grant him some relief. (You already know whose digital clone the AI matches him with.) Fic: HERE

Title: Cannibal’s Labyrinth Creator: @whispers-in-the-chrysalis​ Inspired by: Pan’s Labyrinth Art: HERE

Title: Unsinkable Creator: @cinnamaldeide​ Inspired by: Titanic Summary: Detective Graham is tasked to shed some light on a serie of suspicious disappearances of both first and second class passengers happening aboard the Titanic. When Will finds out that head chef Hannibal Lecter is the culprit, the ocean liner proves to be not unsinkable after all. Aesthetic Moodboard: HERE

Title: Ultimate EliasChicken and HanniHorse Creator: @insanelyartful​ Inspired by: Ultimate Chicken Horse Summary: Featuring Grigg as Bunny, Elias as Chicken, Cliff as Elephant, d’Artagnan as Squirrel, Adam Raki as Raccoon, Hannibal as Horse, Will as Sheep, Nigel as Iguana, and Aiden Galvin as Monkey. Art: HERE

Title: Once Upon A Cannibal Creator: @thesilverqueenlady​ Inspired by: Once Upon A Time Summary: Will Graham is settling down to have a nice, quiet little birthday to himself when a girl knocks on his front door. "Hi!" she says. "My name is Abigail, and I'm your daughter." Fic: HERE

Title: Will Graham And The Seven Dogs Creator: @stratumgermanitivum​ Inspired by: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves Summary:  Once upon a time, there had been a prince. Of course, that was quite a few years back, now, and very few people remembered him. As the years passed, King Chilton grew more and more frustrated with the boy, and the boy with him. And so it was that on the eve of the boy’s eighteenth birthday, Chilton drew up an order to have him committed - for his own good, of course - trapped in the dungeon under Chilton’s exclusive care until his mind was healed. Or until Chilton had no more use for his talents. However, when the castle guards came for the boy, they found the room empty, the window open. Long live King Chilton. Fic: HERE

Title: The Mummy Creator: @ishxallxgood​ Inspired by: The Mummy Summary: Adam Raki is a librarian, and he's damn proud. He has been obsessed with Ancient Egypt and the Legend of Imhannitep and his consort Anck-Will-Namun since he was a child. When his sister comes across a priceless artifact, Adam cannot resist the pull of Hamunaptra to uncover the secrets plaguing his dreams since he was a child. Fic: HERE

Title: Nakama Creators: @fragile-teacup​ and @beatricenius​ Inspired by: Emma Summary: Hannibal Lecter is handsome, clever, rich, Omegan... and quite oblivious to the fact that he is hopelessly in love with his brusque Alpha mentor, Will. Will Graham has always looked out for Hannibal, occasionally despairing of his young protégé's spoiled nature but valuing his companionship just the same.    They are the best of friends. But when Hannibal finds himself in the grip of a late first heat, both men are forced to confront feelings which neither are prepared for... Nakama, a Regency A/B/O romance based on Emma by Jane Austen.  Fic and Art: HERE

Title: The Game Begins Creators: @insanelyartful Inspired by: Dead by Daylight Summary: While for everyone else, the world seems to be ending; for four very different beings, everything is only beginning. For Will, well, at least social niceties aren't his top priority anymore. For Hannibal, it has opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. And though Nigel wishes it were the end, it's not the end for him quite yet. Then there's Aiden, who sooooo shouldn't be dealing with this during the apocalypse. Fic: HERE

Again, all of our thanks and appreciation to everyone who participated in the 2019 Reel Hannibal! We were thrilled to see so many gorgeous AUs and we hope that everyone had as much fun as we did.

If you haven’t checked out these amazing Reels, please do so and shower these Fannibals in cookies, comments, and kudos, because they really deserve them.

See you next year in April for Reel Hannibal 2020!!! 

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[argonas]

Old Friends

Armor, polished immaculately. His crystalline sword sheathed to his back - not only refracting the sun’s glorious light, but glowing with its own internal shine. The Aldori crest on his freshly-stitched tabard paralleled the luminosity of the Vindicator’s divine facade. His eyes, too, burned a hot white. Argonas had taken enough hits, as of late. It was beyond time to deliver some of his own.

Enough was enough.

The crowd of Kul Tirans parted as he roamed through the city streets of Boralus. Some averted their gaze, others couldn’t help but stare. Fear, or awe… it mattered little. He wasn’t here to be admired. The docks were quiet enough, outside the dull roar of conversing patrons in various shops. He stopped, brow furrowing to a frown as he beheld the open marketplace. He’d been here once before… that all seemed so long ago now.

He approached one of the vendors - a thin young human, with a wispy attempt at a beard. His eyes widened as he looked up at the towering Draenei.

“C-Can I help you?” he asked, meekly.

Argonas pulled a rolled parchment from his belt, and handed it over. Timidly, the little man accepted it, and slowly unrolled it. Fear was replaced with confusion, as he beheld a face.

“Have you seen this Death Knight?” Argonas asked, voice raspy and hoarse.

“N-No… can’t say I have. Sorry.” the man apologized.

Brusquely, Argonas snatched back the parchment, and rolled it back up. He tucked it away, turning without another word.

He’d find her, sooner or later. The Light willed it so.

~*~

She wasn’t often out in the sunlight. No; there was something refreshing about returning to a mostly nocturnal habit. But there were always exceptions.

With her hair loose about her shoulders and her sleeves rolled up, she worked on the far side of the docks. Not too many people, but little boats. Small people. Nothing too noticeable. Just another refugee. So it seemed.

“No, no! Move tha’ box over there or ye’ll tip us!” A quiet grunt as she shifted the crate as instructed. Swords still strapped to her back. Half-armoured. She wore her cuirass, her shin plates. But soft boots. Tattered brocaded cloak resting over the rail as she helped to load the tiny ferry. Squinting her dark eyes in the sun.

The light commotion proved sufficient to keep everyone's attention. All but one. The Kul Tiran woman's eyes were pulled from the task of loading up the ferry to something truly… alien.

"You, er…  you lost, big fella?" She asked, stance on the dock tentative and cautious.

The Vindicator offered her no reply. Instead, his eyes narrowed, affixed to one of the helping hands on the ferry. He looked pissed, bit in truth he was stunned. Of all the places he thought he might run into her…

"Sylaess." 

He simply stated the name, as if answering a question - the woman certainly took it that way! She followed the Draenei's gaze with her own, and whistled sharply for the elf. Trying to help, not that he needed it; even through damaged vocal chords, his voice carried better than any shout or whistle could.

It was a little like being shot. With surprise, anyway. That voice was unmistakable. A flood of quick thoughts raced over her mind, but she sighed softly, pushing it away. No. Running would be hilarious but futile here. She straightened, turning to eye him squarely from where she stood. Aware of the crew pausing like cats about to witness the best cat fight yet. ‘Not entirely inaccurate.’ She thought dryly, judging solely on how pissed off he looked. Syl waited for him to continue. Or swing. Either way, the moment was on a thin edge and they both knew it.

Silence hung on that edge, clinging tensely to it by a thread. Argonas stared, studying Sylaess like she were a painting. She was different somehow. Color in her cheeks. Healthy… for a Death Knight. He peered a little closer.

‘Was this the Light's doing…?’

"Sylaess." he repeated, quieter… emotion in his raspy voice. "You are… what are you doing here?"

“...Working.” The even toned reply was carefully neutral. And certainly no lie. A favor for a favor, after all. “I don’t earn coin always by blade.” A brow quirked faintly.

"I… see."

Silence again, as he appraised her. He nodded… then smiled. A sigh of relief? He seemed happy to see her!

"It is well." came his usual catchphrase. "You are looking well, too."

The crowd collectively exhaled their stifled and held breaths. Some of them in disappointment. They returned to their duties.

"I was… unsure whether or not to seek you out. After…"

Words trailed. She knew, of course. His tail twitched, brow lowering at the mention of such a memory. 

Her lips thinned. She was unsure of how to respond. “...I still don’t know if its a good thing to be near me. Which is why I keep a good distance from everyone, Argonas.” Quietly spoken. Her shoulders relaxed a little--perhaps a little less likely to run.

The other ferry-loaders looked far less relaxed, at that. The crowd of them eyed the elf with worry and suspicion. What did she mean by that?! The dock mistress whistled sharply, and waved the crew off.

Simple folks. They vacated promptly.

Argonas remained quiet as they left, eyes still affixed to Sylaess. He hadn't paid the humans any mind since he arrived, really. Their presence or absence made no difference to him. He crossed his arms before him, shoulders rolling.

"You are still… plagued, then?" he frowned - though clearly tried his best not to. "By more than your undeath?"

Vague, but… they both knew well enough what he meant.

Her lips thinned a bit more at that. ‘Thanks, asshole.’

“You know, they almost didn’t know I was undead.” Almost wistful, but there was that hint of sarcasm under it all. She folded her arms.

The workers scurried off, no doubt rumours already flying from their tongues. Nothing she hadn’t heard or handled before, but damn. The reprieve had been nice. She’d just hoped, no, wished for longer.

A soft sigh.

“What has you all wound up and ready to make me eat my lovely white teeth?” She eyed him, expression soft but eyes hard.

The Draenei's brow quirked. He looked left, down the dock… the right, out to sea. He shook his head.

"I… I am not here to fight you," he replied, "I did not expect to find you at all, for that matter. As I said, I have been unsure whether or not to try looking for you."

He exhaled sharply, a mixture of pain and anger written clearly in his expression. His shoulders slumped. Tail lashed to and fro. 

"I am trying to… respect your autonomy. Your choice." he said, through mostly gritted teeth. "Out of respect for our friendship - whether it is or was…"

A grunt. This was clearly hard for him to say. And not just from his audibly damaged throat, but more in finding the words. Feelings and thoughts were there. Words clearly unrehearsed. He was trying.

"In truth… I am looking for Avehi."

His hand found the rolled parchment-- but only held it. Another grunt.

"She has lost her mind entirely. Raising soldiers who have fallen in this war." he revealed, dust clenching. "She must be stopped."

Her mouth fell open a little at the first admission. Then she sat on the railing, slumping a bit. “I see.” Thinking. Always churning information thoroughly. “I didn’t think she would... Ah, I know so little though.” Syl shook her head, combing her hair back casually after. “That’s... uncomfortable. But also something my kind tends to. You know this. You want to forsake her, call her anything but normal and expect her to hold through that barrage year after year without changing?” She spoke so softly, but she knew he could hear her. “I’ve done it. I’m shocked it took her this long.” Averted her eyes, watching the glittering sun on the water. “Damn us as much as you need to to get your peace, but we are ... fundamentally made of shadow. Always will be. I don’t think I can help you find her, either.” “We have bigger problems, anyway.”

"--Do not!"

He barked, a sudden outburst, grizzled and booming. He stomped a hoof forward against the planks of the dock, arms unfolding to bring fists up on either side. The Light crackled over his knuckles. He scowled. Turned away immediately in frustration.

"... Do not tell me these things! Not about you." Argonas shook his head. "Terms like 'we' and 'us'... I…"

Conflictedness was clear and evident in his struggle to form a coherent sentence. He knew that much about her. Rather, he had always suspected. Typecast her, in a way, as he did all Death Knights. But they were old friends! And that friendship was built on the ignorant notion that she was an exception to everything he knew about the vile undead. He looked the other way. Imagined her to be above all that… despite knowing better. 

The conflict between what he knew, and what he wanted to believe…

"Why not?" he pressed on with the conversation… leaving her self-implication to fade in the wind. "Why do you not think you can help me?"

She knew she should keep the facade up. For him. For his sanity. Oh, gods be sure, she should. It was the only mercy she could really give him, right?

But as it was, it was fleeting. Her eyes held him in silence for a long moment, the sea breeze rifling her faded green hair. She felt young and old all at once. Stretched too thin.

“Because she, like me, has bigger things to worry about. As will you, if it's true. I can’t stop her from doing what we must do. She may simply have a more direct way of doing things.” Another pause. Carefully considered question. “What was the situation she was raising the dead in?” ‘Calm, Syl, keep it gentle. Factual.’

"Another Vindicator." he started, with a grunt. "He died fighting the forces of the Old Gods in Uldum. She… she came, and started raising him."

If he didn't look tormented before, it splashed onto his face like thick paint now. Another grunt.

"I could not stop her."

“Was it a recent death? Within a day or so?”

She shifted a little. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but not finding this easy to speak of... well. The Vindicator. She was very much aware of his unstable air. Keenly watching the Light shimmering armor. And still not sure how this would play out.

"Er… yes, recent. I learned of it that day, and went out to collect him for a proper burial. Word of a Vindicator's death travels quickly among our kind."

An odd inquiry. 

"Why? What does it matter if it were recent or old?" he had to ask. "She defiled him all the same!"

“She was likely after information.” A small shrug. “To die is the worst infraction in the end, is it not? Makes you vulnerable no matter where you go, what you become.” She did tighten her arms about herself, though. Uncomfortable. “It doesn’t justify anything. I know. But I’m curious what she wanted from him.”

A small frown at her feet.

"He would have joined with the Light!" Argonas snapped. "His was an honorable death, at the end of a distinguished career serving and protecting the Light's chosen! She robbed him of that peace! For information?!"

He wouldn't have it. Sylaess was right; it didn't justify anything. He stomped the dock again in a frustrated huff, seething now. Worked up. The Light crackled and sparked from his plated form. 

"She, of all the Death Knights, knows better. She was taught better!" he went on, rolling into a rant. "She dishonors herself. She dishonors her mentor! She dishonors us all with her… her… her… blasphemy!"

A discharge of the searing Light radiated out from him at the last word, filling the air with a holy tinge. He grunted, snarling… but began to recollect himself.

"I… I could not stop her, Sylaess." he grumbled lowly. "Not on my own. But… together? We can bring her to justice for this atrocity."

She grit her teeth at the outburst of Light. Couldn’t help it. Though it was a knee-jerk reaction, she held her calm. Honestly, after the last few weeks and what she herself had learned? This was nothing in comparison. She just wasn’t ready for it. Yet. “You don’t even have the full picture yet, Vindicator. How can you cast a judgement so soon?”

‘When there’s no guarantee he could die in peace properly? She may have saved him from something worse.’ It was not a cheery thought.

"I saw this, Sylaess! I saw her raising the dead!" Argonas shouted! "What more to the 'picture' could there possibly be? I have seen her misdeeds myself - I alone can cast judgments!"

Him getting worked up once more caused the resurgence of his sparking aura of Light. He growled almost, in response to his intentions being called into question. But with that low growl, he reined in his passion - his aggression. He didn't wish to target Sylaess with it, after all.

"... Listen to me. What she has done, no matter how she may justify it, is an unspeakable atrocity!" he went on. "Surely you see this. Surely you can understand how grotesque an offense this is against my people!"

He sighed, face contorting from intense anger, to desperate pleading.

"... Please, Sylaess. Please help me bring her to justice."

“And what would you do if I told you that death isn’t...” Shit, how to put it? Easier with void-touched and cursed people. They’d eat shit if you sold it right. But this was real, and bad.

“Broken?” She splayed her hands a moment, unable to grasp more words. Frustrated at the lack of language. “If you die. Right now. You’re not ascending anywhere. Your soul isn’t going to be fetched by the Light. Something’s happened. Someone fucked the balance and if you die, you’re going to the Maw. Or something like it. There are thousands of souls trapped and I can’t get to them but I can see them--”

A frustrated noise between a snarl and a grunt rumbled in her throat. She spun, snatching up her cloak and wrapping it over her arm. Running a hand over the brocade. ‘Calm. Calm down you fucking tool.’ ‘You’re absolutely insane.’

Colour rose in her cheeks, unbidden. She stuffed a hand into her hair and tugged hard. 

“Maybe she saved him. Maybe she defiled him. There’s so fucking much going on, Argonas, I’m ill equipped to be explaining it. But anyone who sits on the edge. Who touches the shadows of that realm. They see.”

“Not sure what’s more insane. Talking to an Old God or thinking death itself is broken. Wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t experience it myself.”

She expected him to either try to put her out of her misery or laugh and walk away. She didn’t want to see his face.

Nonsense. That was the first, loudest word to come into his mind. What sort of nonsense had the Old Gods put into his friend’s head? He looked down upon her in disappointment. And pity. A long exhale escaped through his nose, as he shook his head. 

“I think… your death works differently than ours, Sylaess. The Light does not abandon its champions.” he explained, a streak of condescending in his words despite his best efforts. “And Vindicator Zaalesh was most certainly that; a champion of the Light. Were it not for Avehi’s defilement, his strength would strengthen us all, now.”

He smiled weakly. It was good to see her again, at least. But perhaps seeking her help was too much to ask. Too much to hope for. Just as well… she didn’t come off as trying to protect Avehi, or dissuade him under false pretenses. The darkness that gripped her had her believing such utter nonsense. And she was sincere in her delusions.

“I will do it myself. Such is for the best; I failed before, I must set that right, and see Zaalesh laid to rest.” he nodded firmly, resolutely. “And Light-willing, Avehi, as well.”

He turned, ready to depart - but his tail flickered, hooves staying put a moment as he turned his head. An addition.

“It was… good to see you again, Sylaess.” he nodded to the empty dock before him. “If you… reconsider… my offer to help you still stands.”

“....Fuck.” The mental beratement could wait. She simply marched past him at this rate. “Believe it if you will or not, its a big thought for anyone who doesn’t get to see it with their own eyes. I’m aware of how insane I sound. Believe that of me at least. But don’t think our deaths work any differently.” Bristling, she kept on. “You might need to purify me at some point. But I do not bow easily. Not to anyone’s blindness.”

“Everyone dies. All souls are judged. Draenei are just as beholden to that truth as the rest of us or do you forget what the eredar were? Those broken ones on the original Draenor. What were they? Where do they go?” It was like a flame inside her mouth. It all came out at once, and she couldn’t stem it. But it guttered. Her shoulders settled back again, resting. A small breath. Softer words. Honest. Before she fled. “You’re too good to be a friend to me, Vindicator. Don’t sully yourself.”

She could walk very fast, and she felt a sudden urge to go punch a training dummy.

“--Wait just a moment!” Argonas called out, in vain.

He tried keeping up with her… but speed was a shortcoming of his. He managed to keep pace with the Kaldorei a while as they both made their way down the dock… but lost her after her eredar commentary.

Eventually, he simply stopped. Still on the dock, just before it would’ve been solid earth beneath his hooves. Fists clenched again, frustratedly, as he watched her vanish into the waterfront bustling. It was nice while it lasted… and yet, somehow he fucked it up all over again. ‘Too good’, she called him? Then why did he feel so terrible? Like he’d let her down yet again?

It couldn’t be true, though. It made a hint of sense, but that discounted it all on its own, coming from her. The Old Gods were in her mind, now. Distorting her thoughts, mixing truths with lies to maintain their sway over her. That’s all this was - misinformation to keep Syaless under thumb.

So different were their peoples’ deaths. You certainly didn’t see any Draenei wisps weaving between the trees. Nor did the kaldorei become one with the Light upon their demise. Everyone dies; this much was true. But after-lives were dependent on lives lived. Customs, culture, rituals… all to guide the departed to where they belonged. Death couldn’t be broken. Not for everyone.

… Right?

~*~

(( Co-written with the exceptionally talented @sylaess​! ))

#Character Story #Sylaess Chasewind #Argonas the Ironclad #Draenei #Night Elf #Death Knight #Vindicator #Warcraft #Boralus #Shadowlands #undeath

[ongoingaccident-deleted]

i literally have no self-control i’m so sorry. based on this awesome post by @tonal-modulator. full thing under the cut. i should finish what i’m writing instead of starting to write like five different things at once. hmm. that’s not gonna happen let’s be honest here. thank you in advance for reading and i hope you enjoy <333 also i have a hard time writing sotha sil but i tried i hope it’s okay

This was it. The final battle. The time to either defeat Nocturnal or to die trying. Aellai sighed quietly, nervous for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and Darien squeezed her elbow. She couldn’t help her face softening as she glanced at him (he was grinning, bold in his emotions as ever), but she quickly schooled her features back to strict neutrality. Now was not the time to be getting starry-eyed over one of her closest friends. 

(Of course, she probably ought to come clean about how she felt if they survived all of this - but that was just it, wasn’t it? If they survived.)

The portal opened, and then a second one that was certainly not supposed to be there did too, and out stepped a Dunmer Aellai was both surprised and pleased to see. 

“Divayth Fyr,” Sotha Sil said in that quiet voice of his. He sounded neither shocked, nor upset, nor happy to see that his friend had ignored the instruction he had given in the Clockwork City so many days ago. 

Everyone else seemed to be in too much shock to do anything other than stare and try not to be rude about it. “Fret not Sil, I’ve taken care of the Key. Nocturnal won’t find it - not that she needs it right now.” Divayth’s tone was brusque and businesslike in the way Aellai had come to associate with him, but there was still that undercurrent of warmth she had only ever heard him use when talking to Sotha Sil. A fond spot for an old friend, she supposed. 

Sotha Sil said nothing, but Valsirenn spoke up for the rest of them. “This isn’t really a good time. We’re in the middle of some important business. As Acting Ritemaster, I will be more than happy to assist you after we’re finished.” 

Fyr ignored her entirely. Aellai quietly hoped she didn’t take it personally. “You’re sending a group of amateurs to ascend through multiple planes of reality and fight a Daedric Prince.” She saw some of her friends bristle at his words, but Aellai knew him well enough to know them as a statement of facts as he saw them, not an accusation or a slight. “Darrell is competent enough, but they aren’t prepared to face Nocturnal’s full might. Not to mention that they’re in need of an artifact of divine power, which I can provide.” 

Fyr pulled what looked to be a constantly shifting mass of square loops from inside his robes, and Sotha Sil blinked upon seeing what must have been his own divine artifact. Aellai thought it might have been in surprise. “You’re certain, Divayth?” It was hard to tell if his words were a question or merely a vocalization of what he already knew. 

The other Dunmer nodded anyway. “I am.” 

Ae wasn’t sure what reactions she expected to see from anyone else, Sotha Sil least of all, but mostly everyone seemed mildly perplexed at the references to events they hadn’t experienced. Sotha Sil almost seemed pleased that his request had been ignored - not that she was any expert on reading him. 

The God merely nodded. Whether in assent or simply acknowledgement, it was hard to tell, but it seemed to spur Divayth into action. “Let’s be on our way, then,” he said. “No time to waste.” 

Barbas glanced between him and the rest of their small party before shrugging and leading the way to Clavicus Vile’s domain. Fyr followed without a word, and Leythen sighed before also entering the portal. Darien glanced at the portal and then at her. “Would now be a bad time to admit I have no idea what just happened?” 

Aellai herded him gently toward the portal. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain on the way.”

-

thank you again for reading! i hope you enjoyed, i had fun writing it when i wrote it in basically a fever dream at midnight recently so

considering writing more, let me know if you’d be interested in reading more of this au :)

#tes #eso #summerset #cat writes #cat is a wreck sorry #i hope this is okay i wrote it in one sitting and didn't edit it oops #thank you for reading!!! #it means a lot to me #aellai darrell #darien gautier #divayth fyr #sotha sil #there's some other people there too but i'm going to sleep #i was gonna queue this but the queue is full so here have it now i guess