Vox squirming underneath you and being a pathetic fucking bottom. He wants to show off to everyone that he's the dom in the relationship to make up for his insecurities and the need to present himself as "manly as possible" due to his struggles with his internalized homophobia (reasoning of a man from the '50s).
but all he wants is just be put in his place because he's a fucking brat. Grab that man's tv head and shove it in the matress while pounding inside him with his ass and hips up. do NOT let him breathe or catch breath, he doesn't want to anyways.
I know the thought of being put in his place gets him so hard and turns him into a big whiny mess, screen glitching and voice buffering.
Yes, the whole pentagram will have blackout, yes he will bury your face in your thighs or rub himself against you asking for a second round.
does anyone have the link to that amazing jade leech x reader twst smut fanfiction in which he's obsessed with the reader but they don't reciprocate and have feeling for Floyd instead, so jade helps them "rehearse" their confession pretending to be Floyd? I NEED HELP I CAN'T FIND IT 😭
Summary: How does it feel like? to be a haunted by siren's sickeningly beautiful melodies. Venture in these waters and maybe you'll find out..
A/n: Coming back after almost 4 months wow...
The moon hung heavy over the restless sea, casting its silver glow across the water. In the stillness of the night, you could only hear the sound of the waves crashing at the foot of your boat, the Astral Star, and the creaking of the wood of the vessel. Sounds that soothed the heart of every sailor in the solitude of the night. The crew had long since retired below deck, leaving you alone to keep watch, your cutlass resting idly by your side and compass in hand.
The ocean was unnervingly calm, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
You close your eyes and savor a piece of peace and tranquility. Despite your great love and affection for your crew, who you could define as your life companions, it must be said that in moments like these - accompanied only by the ocean that cradles you - you find the true you. To make everything more pleasant and to release the tension of a long day spent commanding and organizing the entire ship, you reach into your pocket and take out a more than familiar object: a small wineskin .
That’s when you heard it—soft at first, like a whisper carried on the wind. A melody, hauntingly beautiful, drifted across the water.
The moon hung heavy over the restless sea, casting its silver glow across the water. In the stillness of the night, you could only hear the sound of the waves crashing at the foot of your boat, the Astral Star, and the creaking of the wood of the vessel. Sounds that soothed the heart of every sailor in the solitude of the night. The crew had long since retired below deck, leaving you alone to keep watch, your cutlass resting idle by your side and compass in hand.
The ocean was unnervingly calm, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
You close your eyes and savor a piece of peace and tranquility. Despite your great love and affection for your crew, who you could define as your life companions, it must be said that in moments like these - accompanied only by the ocean that cradles you - you find the true you. To make everything more pleasant and to release the tension of a long day spent commanding and organizing the entire ship, you reach into your pocket and take out a more than familiar object: a small .
That's when you heard it—soft at first, like a whisper carried on the wind. A melody, hauntingly beautiful, drifted across the water.
Your body immediately goes rigid, eyes wide, and in the silence that follows the terrifyingly beautiful melody you can feel your heartbeat accelerate, a crescendo without stopping. Every fiber, cell of your body screams at you to run, to seek shelter from what you knew was about to happen, in vain. Your feet remain glued to the ship and, as if guided by a pentagram, your eyes search for the source of the hauntingly graceful melodies that keep ringing in your ears.
Stories of sirens were common among pirates: enchanting sea creatures whose songs lured sailors to their doom. But meeting one...was entirely different.
Against your better judgment, you rose from your post and leaned over the railing, searching for the source.
There, illuminated by moonlight, was a figure.
A mermaid.
No,
A siren.
Her tail shimmered with hues of dark purple and magenta, the scales catching the light in a hypnotic dance.
She was watching you with piercing amber eyes, a sly smile curving her lips as she sang.
You grabbed the railing tighter. You were afraid, but at the same time intrigued. That was the nature of man: to be intruingued by the unknown and attracted to danger. “Who are you?”.
The melody stopped abruptly, replaced by a soft, lilting laugh. "Who am I? A question I could ask you, pirate." She stopped singing, yes, but her voice was still smooth, carrying the hint of the previously sang melody, laced with both amusement and danger. “What brings you to my waters?”
“Your waters?” you scoffed, trying to keep your wits about you. “Last I checked, the ocean doesn't belong to anyone.”
Her smile widened. "Oh, but it does. And you're trespassing."
You could feel her voice pulling at you, an almost magnetic force urging you to step closer, to lean further over the railing. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “You think I'll fall for your tricks, mermaid?”
“Tricks?” she echoed, tilting her head. Her wet hair clung to her face, framing it like a portrait. "I don't need tricks. You're already here, listening to me. Curious, aren't you?"
You hated that she was right. Something about her made it impossible to look away.
“Why don't you come closer?” she said, her tone turning soft, almost inviting. “I promise, I won't bite.”
“Yeah, right,” you muttered, though you couldn't deny the pull of her words and the temptation they caused. You grabbed a nearby rope, anchoring yourself to the ship. “What do you want?”
Her gaze flicked to the rope in your hands, and her smile turned mischievous. "Oh, clever. You think that'll save you?"
Suddenly, her tail splashed against the water, sending droplets flying. In one smooth motion, she where beneath the waves, disappearing from sight.
Silence.
“Coward,” you muttered with a hint of...disappointment? Scanning the water for any sign of her.
But before you could react, she surfaced just below the ship, her hands gripping the edge of the hull. She was closer now, her face just inches away from yours.
Now you could properly see her features...The shape of her face, oval, elegant with thin but defined features. Her skin, clear and smooth, without imperfections. Her almond-shaped eyes, of a purple color that almost seems to shine and her calm, seductive and self-confident gaze. And finally her full lips, of a pink color that almost draw an enigmatic smile.
“What I want,” she said, her voice a low murmur, “is for you to let go. Let the ocean take you.”
Her hand reached up, fingertips brushing against yours where they gripped the rope. Her touch was cold but not unpleasant, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
She paused, her playful expression faltering for just a moment and after that, she started staring at you, one could even say admiring, and you found yourself slowly loosening your grip.
Just as your fingers began to slip and reach for her, a shout from below deck broke the spell.
"Captain! Are you alright up there?"
You jolted back to reality, pulling your hand away. The mermaid, glared up at the interruption, her eyes narrowing.
And then, with a powerful flick of her tail, she disappeared into the depths, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the lingering echo of her song.
As the crew stumbled up to join you, you stared out at the moonlit sea, wondering what might have happened if you'd let go.
And why you already couldn't wait for her to come back.
Summary: Dan Heng’s world shatters when you, his only solace, are lost to death. Desperate, he descends into the Abyss to bring you back.
Warnings: Major character death.
Author's notes: This is based off Orhpeus and Eurydice's myth. I hope you'll enjoy this <3
Dan Heng was a sensitive musician and poet who accompanied his verses with the sweet sound of the lyre. At his song, the beasts came out of their dens and became tame and the devastating forces of nature lost their fury. But Dan Heng did not boast: grateful, he thanked the Aeons.
When you had met Dan Heng for the first time, he was a mystery few dared to unravel. Yet, you were persistent, breaking through his carefully constructed walls with your genuine curiosity and unrelenting kindness. Where others saw a stoic enigma, you saw a man carrying the weight of his past in silence.
Over time, he began to let you in. You found solace in his presence, and he found peace in yours. He would read you fragments of ancient poems, his voice low and steady, and play melodies on his lyre that seemed to echo the sorrow etched in his soul.
Then came the day everything unraveled.
A mission gone awry, a poisoned blade and you were gone. Dan Heng had been there, holding you as your life slipped away, the light in your eyes dimming like a candle snuffed out by the wind.
"Stay with me"
He had begged, his voice breaking in a way it never had before.
He called you with all his strength, but you were dead.
The young man, as if mad, wandered aimlessly for days and days. He prayed in vain to the wild beasts to kill him. He sang his anguish to the trees, to the birds, but nothing could calm his pain.
The universe did not bargain with love.
And then, the rumors began—whispers of a place beyond the veil of death, where souls lingered, waiting for those brave or desperate enough to find them. The Path of the Abyss was treacherous, but If there was a chance to bring you back, he would take it.
The Abyss was vast. He walked for a long time and his singing moved the souls of the dead.
Dan Heng kept going, driven by the memory of your smile and the warmth you had brought into his life.
In the center of a dark hall was the throne on which sat the two Aeons Arbitrers, who determined the death and birth of common mortals: Lan and Qlipoth. Dan Heng addressed his invocation to Qlipoth.
"Oh sweet Aeon who from your face emanates the light of the universe" - he began - "have pity on my pain. Cruel fate has torn my beloved from life. I have tried to calm my despair, but in vain. Have pity on me. Hear me, I beg you, give me back Y/n or keep me here too. I would rather die than live without them".
The young man's invocation moved the Aeon to pity, who wept softly, looked for a moment at the other Aeon, and implored THEM in silence. Lan would never refuse THEM and THEY too, becoming tender, exclaimed: -
"You seek to defy the natural order," it intoned, its voice reverberating like the tolling of a bell. "To reclaim what has been taken is to invite suffering upon yourself."
"I don't care," Dan Heng said, his gaze unwavering. "I will do whatever it takes."
"Very well...your song, Dan Heng, has moved Qlipoth and me. I want to please you: Y/n will return with you to the earth. You yourself will lead them out of the Abyss. But be careful: you must neither look, touch nor speak to them until you have reached the light of the sun. If you turn around, you will lose them forever".
The poet, his face transfigured with happiness, bowed to the sovereign and headed towards the exit.
They walked for a long time, but Orpheus' thoughts were on his beloved who was following him. You walked behind him, your presence a fragile reassurance, but the silence between you was deafening. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his fear pressing down on him. With his eyes fixed in front of him, he desperately struggled with the desire to turn and look at your face.
Suddenly a terrible doubt gripped his heart: were you following him or had Qilipoth deceived him?Were you truly there? Or was this a cruel illusion of the Abyss? And just as the sunlight began to filter through the darkness, he could no longer resist. He turned around.
You were standing before him and, with your hands, took off a veil that was covering you. You were more beautiful than ever, but your eyes were sad.
It was an instant. A thick, gray fog enveloped you and you disappeared into the depths forever. Form dissolved into the darkness, your voice a fading echo.
"Dan Heng... thank you for trying."
The young man's pain was terrible; he sobbed, he begged the infernal gods once more, he drew the most heartbreaking notes from his lyre. Lan did not take pity a second time and did not grant him grace again.
He emerged into the light alone, the weight of his failure crushing him. The stars above remained indifferent, their cold light a mockery of the warmth he had lost. He wandered for months through woods and grasslands. Little by little his deep despair found comfort in music, whose notes he traced on a tree bark, but the emptiness within him remained.
In the Xianzhou Luofu there is no singer who does not know that magical music.
HIII I HAD A THOIGHT THAT HAS BEEN KILLING MY MIND AND I NEED TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE OTHERWISE IM GNA EXPLODE
get this . everyone chilling at ramshackle dorm doing their own thing, yuu (and grimm by extension), ace and deuce sitting by the table talking about whatever crosses their mind
Eventually the conversation escalates to birthdays and holidays and ace asks how old Yuu is. Azul interjects with saying Yuu's age from the contract they signed a few months ago, but then Yuu pipes up and tells them that they're one year older than that.
Theres a small moment of confusion until it dawns onto Deuce that Yuy's birthday was a month or two ago and they never spoke a peep about it. Not even to grimm!! And when asked, Yuy makes an excuse like "that was when __ was kind of close to overblotting and I didn't want to make it about me because that'd be so nitpicky—"
It was based off an audio i heard and idk if i want to write it into a short drabble for myself i probably cant since im only on book 2 ueue). But like. its a fun prompt methinks. what would all of them do when they find out Yuu deliberately didn't say a thing about their birthday
author's note: let's just pretend I didn't just post a request from almost 2 years ago 😭 I'm deeply sorry. also, I apologize for not uploading anything this month but I'm working on something big 🙏
warnings: none
Ace Trappola
For his Immediate Reaction, he is offended in the most dramatic way possible. He gasps like you’ve committed the ultimate betrayal.
Once he processes that you skipped celebrating because of an overblot situation, Ace feels a bit guilty. He won’t outright admit it, but his teasing becomes a little softer as a result.
He insists on throwing you an over-the-top, borderline ridiculous party.
“I’m talking about party hats for everyone and cake so big Grimm can’t finish it—well, maybe.”
His idea of a celebration is half a joke, but you know he’s secretly serious about making it memorable and deep down, he’s touched by how considerate you were and wants to make sure you never feel overlooked again.
Deuce Spade
Deuce is visibly upset, almost like he’s the one who forgot your birthday, feeling terrible for not realizing sooner.
“But Prefect, birthdays are important! You deserve to be celebrated!”
He gets way too worked up about making it up to you, like it’s a mission, he might also wonder if he’s a bad friend for not noticing your birthday had passed. He’ll pay more attention to your subtle hints in the future (even if you weren’t giving any).
"I won’t let this happen again. Next time, we’ll do something amazing. I swear.”
You swear his sincerity makes you feel just as guilty for not telling him.
Azul Ashengrotto
Acts unbothered on the surface but lowkey blames himself for not catching on sooner, especially since he prides himself on knowing useful details about everyone (and blackmailing them).
Azul will subtly try to make it up to you in his own way. Maybe he gives you a small but meaningful gift with a nonchalant...
“Consider this a late birthday present.”
He might tease you about this later saying something like...
“Oh, Prefect, you wouldn’t hide something as important as a birthday from us again, would you? It’s not wise to keep secrets from your allies.”
But the teasing is his way of showing he cares.
Grimm
“You didn’t even tell me, your best pal?! Unbelievable!”
He paces around the room dramatically, occasionally glaring at you with exaggerated betrayal.
As much as he tries to play it off as annoyance, it’s clear he’s genuinely hurt that you didn’t trust him with such important information.
“I live here! I’m supposed to know these things!”
His solution to everything is cake.
“Alright, let’s bake a cake right now. Wait, no—you bake the cake, and I’ll taste-test it!”
Grimm will insist on celebrating your birthday retroactively, even if it’s something small. He’ll demand a party and act like it’s all for you, but deep down, he just wants to feel like he’s making things right.
Overall, they argue over how to properly celebrate your next birthday. Ace wants chaos, Deuce wants heartfelt, Grimm just wants food, and Azul suggests something elegant but practical.
Despite their differences, they all agree on one thing: they’re not letting you keep secrets like this again. You can expect everyone to be hyperaware of your birthday next year—and they’ll make sure it’s unforgettable.
content warning: obsession, religious themes, sexual fantasies implied, self-punishment.
author's note: Please go easy on me, this is my first time writing a fanficition. I've only written headcanons until now :( also English is not my first language.
With that being said, enjoy this!
The sound of soft humming filled the dimly lit room. A dozen candles were positioned on what seemed to be an altar and, approaching them with light and cautious movements, the man with the halo began to light them one by one as per his daily routine.
Sunday, takes a box of matches from his pocket. The box is small, rectangular, with the edges worn from countless uses, evidence of matches lit in the past. With a fluid gesture, the thumb pushes the internal drawer, making it slowly slide out. Fingers grasp a match carefully and with a firm but controlled movement, the match is brought to the side strip. Then, with a sharp snap, the wrist moves: the match is dragged along the rough surface. The head catches fire in an instant, releasing a small flame.
One...
The number One is the divine principle. The One is the all, the Eternal Infinite Being, which has no form and possesses all forms…
For the first meeting and the first time the light shone on him. The first tim e Sunday was truly intrigued by someone. From the way they acted to the way they looked like, to the way everyone looked at them.
"My liege appears so noble and honest, when they greet people, so much so that everyone is silent and the eyes do not dare to look at them".
Two...
Two derives from the division of unity and is the symbol of separation, because from a sacred point of view, unity is essentially one and unique...
He remembers the pain of separation, a powerful pang in his chest when he had to stop looking at you, dragged by his sister to fulfill his duties as part of one of the most renowned families. Oh, How he wished he could continue listening to the conversation you were immersed in with your friends. Your laugh and your look, your modest manner in response to the praise of your traveling companions
"They proceed, hearing praises, with the outward appearance of courteous benevolence and they seem to be a descended creature from heaven to earth to show divine power".
Three...
The combination of three perfect elements: wisdom, intelligence and love. You represented all of them.
"They appear so beautiful to those who look at them, which through the eyes transmits a sweetness to the heart that those who don't experience it can't understand...".
Four...
The perfect number.
Watching you from afar, Sunday had come to the conclusion that you represented everything perfect in this world.
"...and it seems to come from their face a sweet spirit of love which says to the soul: breathe".
Five...
The number Five symbolizes universal life, human individuality, will, intelligence, inspiration and genius…
The first time you spoke to him he felt that his life in the universe had a specific purpose, to be at your side. Not to mention the fact that you got along extremely well with his sister...Your happy smiles as you spent time together...Your involuntary and affectionate touches. They made him think, perhaps your fulfillment in earthly life was to be part of his family... and perhaps this had been written in the stars years, centuries, millennia before your births. It was fate.
"I saw the bright morning star that appears before the day dawns, and who took human form ; more than any other it seems to me to give splendor"
Six...
Six is a mystical and ambivalent number in its meaning, as it is the number of balance and perfect order...
But perhaps the fulfillment of your life was not on earth, he thought, such a perfect being, endowed with such a pure soul. Sunday knew that to limit your existence and confine it, to simply associate it with a body as an object was considered heresy to him. No...your fulfillment went far beyond worldly life, you were destined for what was defined as metaphysical that the mind cannot understand, but for the gaps that reason cannot fill; the heart and faith take its place.
And Sunday believed.
He had faith.
"Their face, eyes bright, cheerful and full of love ; I don't think there's someone in the world so full of beauty and value."
Seven...
Seven expresses globality, universality, perfect balance and represents a complete and dynamic cycle...
And then his cycle of worship began. Poems, sonnets, prayers, texts proclaimed sacred by Sunday himself... The mind has no limit to creativity when a merciful and grace-filled being is at its guide.
"And I am assailed by their value with such a cruel battle of sighs...".
Eight...
The Eight is the symbol of infinity, the reflection of the spirit in the created world, of the immeasurable and the indefinable...
Sunday punished himself, he had to.
He had sinned.
A lash on his back accompanied by a "Shame" from his lips for every vile and vulgar thought he had.
He began to imagine a more intense bond.
The sound of a whip.
"Shame".
Your body on his.
Another firm sound.
"Shame".
He imagined what the eyes could not see.
He felt his skin burning for his sins, for you.
He could start to feel blood gushing from his wounds.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
One drop of blood after another, One sin after another.
"Shame".
Sinning had never felt so sweet.
"...that I wouldn't have the courage to speak in front of them".
Nine...
The number Nine is the overcoming of creation and infinity, represented by eight.
Because if the divine possesses all the positive qualities of this world and beyond it, then they must necessarily also possess that of existence and infinity. This is the explanation of their divinity.
"Oh, if only they knew of my desires!"
Ten...
Symbolizes perfection, as well as the annulment of all things. 10 = 1+0 = 1 illustrates the eternal starting over…
Everyone called him crazy but limited and closed minds like those couldn't understand. They had not been illuminated by the light. Once you are exposed to light you can't go back, you don't want to go back. In order not to be contaminated by the foolishness of other human minds, he therefore took refuge in his safe place.
Nothing can make him go astray from the right path.
"Because, without saying, I would be rewarded by them for the pity they would have for my sufferings".
The candles cast flickering light upon an altar meticulously arranged with objects they had unknowingly blessed with their touch and that were carefully arranged by Sunday's trembling hands.
He knelt before the altar, his gaze never leaving the central object—a photograph of the reader. Their smile radiated warmth, like sunlight piercing through clouds, and He could almost feel their presence enveloping him.
Sunday clasped his hands tightly.
“Oh, divine one, guide me”.
He whispered, his voice shaking.
“Your light blesses this wretched world. Let me be worthy to serve you”.
The faint sound of a knock startled him. Sunday scrambled to extinguish the candles, his movements frantic yet deliberate. He couldn't let the sanctity of his ritual be disturbed by prying eyes.
“Sunday? Are you there?”
It was them.
His heartbeat thundered in his chest. For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind racing. What had he done to deserve their presence? Were they here to deliver a message? Or a command?
“I—just a moment!” He called, hastily adjusting his hair before opening the door.
They stood there, their usual serene demeanor making his knees weak. Their presence suddenly illuminated the sacred room.
“Hey... I wanted to check in on you. You've been keeping to yourself a lot lately,” they said with a gentle smile while entering the room, noticing the lack of light of the place.
Sunday's breath caught. Every word they spoke was divine scripture in her ears. He bowed his head slightly, his voice reverent, shaking and not daring to look in their eyes. “I… I am unworthy of your concern. But thank you, truly, for blessing me with your attention.”
They blinked, a bit taken back. “Uh, you don't have to talk like that, Sunday. We're friends, remember?”
His body went stiff and his eyes widened. “Friends?” The word echoed in his mind like a sacred hymn, over and over. “You honor me beyond what I could ever deserve. To be your friend… it is a privilege I could never repay.”
They huckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of their neck and Sunday could not comprehend how a simple gesture could hit him so deep, but then, again, it's you. No being could ever make him feel these sensations, the feeling of salvation. “You don't owe me anything, you know. Just… make sure you're taking care of yourself, okay?”
“I will, as you command,” Sunday said fervently, clasping his hands together.
“Command? Sunday, I'm not—”
“Every word you speak is a gift,” He interrupted, his voice trembling with emotion. “A light in the darkness of this world. You are the reason I rise each day, the reason I strive to better myself. I live to follow your will.”
“Sunday…”
His gaze locked onto theirs, his eyes filled with an almost unsettling intensity. “Please, if I have done anything to displease you, tell me. I will repent. I will do anything to earn your forgiveness.”
They sighed, their expression softening. “You haven't done anything wrong, just...You don't need to treat me like I'm... special.”
“But you are special,” Sunday whispered, emphasizing every word, his voice barely audible. “You are a god among mortals. Your kindness, your wisdom, your very presence—everything about you is divine. How could I see you as anything less?”
They frowned.
Why are they frowning?
“Sunday, I'm just me. I don't know where you're getting this idea, but—”
“I see it,” He insisted, stepping closer, eyes wide, hands grasping the air in front of him but never daring to reach for them. “In every word you speak, every action you take. You carry a light that others can't. I only wish more people could see it, but perhaps… perhaps they are unworthy.”
They took a step back, clearly uncomfortable. “Okay, this is getting a little intense. Maybe we should talk about this later.”
“Please don't go!” Sunday reached out, stopping himself just before touching them. “I—I apologize if I've overstepped. I only want to serve you, to be useful to you.” His voice cracked with desperation and glossy eyes. “Please, tell me how I can prove my devotion. I will do anything.”
They hesitated, their concern evident. “Sunday, I think you need to take a step back and talk to someone about this. I care about you, but this… this isn't healthy.”
His heart shattered at their words, but he forced a smile. “O-of course. If that is your wish, I will obey.”
They smiled at him before turning their back to walk towards the door and open it.
"I hope you find the light of reason again"
And a second later, silence.
As they left, Sunday sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “They test me,” he murmured to himself. “They want to see if my faith is strong enough. I won't falter. I will try it myself. No matter what it takes, I will become worthy.”
His resolve hardened. The candles flickered back to life as he resumed his prayers, his whispered vows filling the room.
“Your light guides me, and I shall follow, no matter where it leads. Even if it destroys me.”
Author's note: Ok so I was on my bed and this absolute banger of an idea spawned into my mind...I suggest you read the historic background I've written in this same post to better understand the vision...
they/them pronouns used after the historical background
Rook Hunt as a stilnovist poet
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
I think a lot of us know about stilnovism, known also as "dolce stil novo". A literary movement that began towards the end of the thirteenth century with Dante Alighieri as its most renowned poet. At the basis of the stilnovistic thought, there were the fundamental chivalric ideals of love such as: the vision of a woman as an angelic and transcendent creature, to the point that the one who loved her felt the need to ask God for forgiveness for having venerated the woman more than God himself; the knights and the troubadours/stilnovists (name of the poets of that literary movement) were tormented by an unrequited love since "true" love for them meant observing the woman from afar, without their love being reciprocated because they felt inferior to the woman they loved.. Now imagine rook hunt as a stilnovist poet deeply in love with the reader...do you guys see the vision?
Rook would write sonnets dedicated to the reader, celebrating their beauty and virtue in the style of dolce stil novo. He’d describe them as an ethereal muse, illuminating his darkest thoughts and guiding him toward love’s enlightenment.
Drawing from the tradition of dolce stil novo, Rook would often use nature as a metaphor for his feelings. He might compare the reader’s eyes to the shimmering stars or their smile to the blooming roses of spring, illustrating the profound impact they have on his soul.
In the quiet of the night, Rook would sneak away from his duties to serenade the reader outside their window, playing soft melodies on a lute and reciting verses that express his admiration and longing. These serenades would be infused with a mix of romantic despair and hope, like the essence of stilnovist emotion (as said previously).
Rook would treat the reader with utmost respect and adoration. He’d engage in chivalrous acts, such as gifting them flowers or rare books of poetry, and he would always seek their counsel and company. He would often lose himself in daydreams about the reader, contemplating the nature of love and beauty. These contemplations would inspire him to pen some of his most poignant works, reflecting on how their presence transforms the mundane into the extraordinary, like Guinizzelli's works or he might write about how the reader’s love brings light to his dark moments, yet also acknowledge the bittersweet pain of longing like Dante Alighieri.
Rook would look for opportunities to engage the reader at gatherings of poets and artists, where they could share their thoughts on love and beauty. He’d seek to impress them with his eloquence and charm, hoping to capture their heart amidst discussions of art and philosophy.
As previously mentioned, Rook’s poetry might carry a hint of melancholy, reflecting the struggles of a lover whose affections may not be fully returned. He’d write about unfulfilled dreams and the sweet sorrow of love.
So, yes. I think Rook would embody at 101% the essence of a passionate stilnovist poet, channeling his love for the reader into art and emotion, celebrating them as both muse and companion.
"...I'm starting to become afraid of losing you..."
• Malleus is extremely protective of his darling. He views the world as full of dangers and believes that only he can keep them safe. Anyone who so much as looks at them in a way he dislikes will receive a piercing, icy glare.
Malleus prefers to keep his darling isolated from others. While it may start as subtle, taking them on nightly walks away from prying eyes,it could escalate to him forbidding them from interacting with others. He convinces them it’s for their own good, that no one else can be trusted with their safety or affections.
•Much like a dragon guarding its treasure, Malleus sees his darling as his most prized possession. He becomes deeply possessive, often referring to them as his in conversations, even in front of others. He will not tolerate anyone else attempting to be close to them.
•Malleus may not even realize he’s manipulating his darling emotionally, but his words often come off as subtly controlling. He plays on their insecurities, making them believe no one else could ever understand or care for them as he does. He wants to be their only emotional anchor, deepening their dependence on him.
•When Malleus gets jealous, his is almost uncontrollable. While he’s usually calm and composed, his emotions flare up dramatically when he feels his darling is being taken from him—whether it’s due to friends, classmates, or even acquaintances. His power manifests when he’s jealous, and he might destroy objects or places in a fit of rage.
•With his immense magical abilities, Malleus will always know where his darling is and who they’re with. If they ever wander too far or try to avoid him, he’ll appear at their side instantly, claiming it’s a mere coincidence.
•When alone with his darling, Malleus is overwhelmingly affectionate. He constantly showers them with gifts and rare items. However, his affections are stifling, giving his darling little room to breathe or express their own desires. His love can feel suffocating, even if he thinks it’s pure.
•There are also subtle undertones in the way Malleus talks to his darling about staying with him. phrases like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you” or “If something were to happen to you, I couldn’t control myself” are frequent, keeping them in a state of uncertainty and fear of what he might do if they disobey.
•Malleus is endlessly loyal to his darling. He places them on a pedestal, treating them like royalty even above himself. His fixation on them consumes his thoughts. He can’t comprehend why they wouldn’t reciprocate his affections just as intensely, and this can frustrate him.
Hello! I’ve never done this before so if this suck you can absolutely skip this. (I did make sure to read your rules and I hope I didn’t break any of them.)
How about a fluff of Jack and Deuce (separate) where the reader is an artist that wants to use their hands as reference to practice since they think that their hands look very expressive? And maybe y/n ends up wanting to draw them as a whole afterwards.
Like I said, you can skip this if you want but Thank you for your time! ^^
author's note: AAAA Thank you so much for this request anon!! I loved writing it, it's a really original idea and I also love the characters you requested sooo double win! I hope you like it <3 (also dw, you didn't break any rules)Characters may be OOC, Jack's part is a bit longer than Deuce's.
content warnings: none
Characters: Jack, Deuce(separate) x gn!reader
Hands on a canvas
Being an artist in Twisted Wonderland was probably the best thing that could ever happen in your life. Since you have been transported to the new world you have never lacked the desire to portray everything of this world that always fascinates you.
Your artistic skills have also been a big help for other people like Azul and the Leech twins, who asked for your thoughts and opinions about their menu's design, and to the students who are in charge of the costumes and backstage work in the film research club.
You're laying on the bed of your room in ramshackle, thinking about the amount of time you spent in twisted wonderland, its people. Your mind then immediately wanders to your home, your world.
When will you be able to return to the place you really belong to?
You immediately cast these thoughts out of your mind.
Being depressed won't change the situation you're in.
To distract yourself, you decide to focus on what you love doing: drawing.
You open the bedside drawer next to you and take a sketchbook and a pencil to get started, you then grab your phone and make your way towards a desk near the window of the room where you usually spend your time drawing or doing your homework.
You look out of your window to find new things to draw but there aren't any, just the same trees and flowers...sure, at first it was nice drawing them but after a while anyone would get tired of portraying the same scenery. You sigh and grab your things, ready to go out and find something or someone to sketch.
You start walking around the school to find inspiration and you finally find it when you come across the track and field club or rather a member of it: Jack.
You watch as he plays on the field of the track club and you can't seem to pull your eyes away from him, almost mesmerized by his energy. You slowly start to sit down on the ground and open your notebook, your gaze never leaving Jack's figure.
Your attention shifts on his hands, you always liked his hands and thought they are very expressive and without thinking about it you start to sketch them in different ways. When you tear you eyes away from your drawings and look towards the field once again, you find jack staring at you.
For a moment you don't know what to do, but then he waves at you with an almost unnoticable smile on his lips.
Your heart skipping a beat and you swear that blood rushed to your face, making it hot and red. After a few seconds of you trying to recover from the shock, you smile back at him, returning the greeting and Jack goes back to the other members of the club to continue his game.
You follow with your gaze the figure of the boy who hoes back to his club activities amd you can't help but think of his delicate smile that he showed you earlier. Your heart skips a beat again and you start drawing his face on the white paper, with the intention of portraying not only Jack, but also the deep feelings you have for him.
"Is there something wrong with my hands?" Deuce asks in the cafeteria while you, him, Ace and Grim were sitting together, eating your lunch.
You've been staring at his hands since the moment you sat down across from him with a noticeable interest and a bit of intensity, but you can't help it! The reason is that you have been practicing drawing hands for a long time, but recently the practice is not going well and the results are not what you quite expected and the pile of tattered and rolled up drawing paper in the trash can of your dorm can testify your failed experiments of drawing human anatomy. So you've been thinking about using someone's hands as a refernce.
You've always liked Deuce's hands and you tought they would be the perfect reference for your drawings. You just had to find a good way to ask him if you could his hands as a model.
"It's just that recently I've been trying to practice my drawing skills, to be more specific, I'm practicing drawing hands but I'm...uh...quite failing at it ahah" akward ass laugh.
Deuce looks at you for a few seconds and his gaze moves to his hands and then to you again, this continues for a few seconds before he asks in an almost embarassed way:
"Would you..like to use my hands as a reference then?"
Hard to believe, but Deuce understood your intentions.
At this point we might as well believe that the end of the world is coming
You immediately accept his help with a big grin on your face and literally DRAG HIM out of the cafeteria when you finish eating, not even caring about ace who was still sitting at the table drowning in his food.
After successfully finding a bench to sit on, you open your notebook and grab your pencil (two items you won't leave your house without) and start sketching using deuce's hands as a reference.
While drawing you explain to Deuce all your drawing techniques and show many of your sketches in the album, which receive many compliments and positive comments from the blue-haired boy. You also explain to him that you were hoping he would offer you help in your attempts of drawing hands, as you particularly appreciate the expressiveness that his hands have, and you swear that you've seen the tip of his ears turn a bit red.
You didn't mind it and kept drawing until you both had to back to class, promising to each other that you would spend more time together to practice.
Before parting ways you gave him one of the drawings you did of his hands, something he would cherish forever.
Warnings: Implied death of reader, angst, gn!pronounces
Character: Kaedehara Kazuha
Author's note: sooo this is my first post (and the first time I write something seriously). I know it's not the best but the idea of this short story came to my mind at 1 am and I HAD to write it down bc I thought I could use it. I tried to make something out of it and this came out 💀. I hope you like it, let me know if you have any feedbacks on this please😭
The red dressed man loved autumn.
He loved the color that the trees were tinged with in the season of the fall.
He loved the light, almost imperceptible wind that ruffled his hair.
He loved to write poems, sitting for hours under the almost bare trees, seeking inspiration while making sweet sounds, using the leaves around him as a musical instrument.
He loved the feeling of the leaves that, as if they were tired, let themselves fall from the trees and, accompanied by the wind, caressed his face.
He loved the color of your eyes as you watched the wonders of nature around you.
He loved watching the way your hair messed up because of the wind.
He loved reading his poems to you under a big tree on the hills of Liyue, observing and studying your every reaction and the way your expression changed with every word he said.
He loved the way your palms naturally positioned themselves on his cheeks, as if they always belonged there.
The red dressed man hated autumn.
The season when you left everything you had behind. But also the season when he lost everything he truly cherished and loved: you.
He couldn't help but look at the place where you used to sit with an expressione full of nostalgia and love.
After looking at that spot for a few minutes with lost eyes, as if he were reliving past memories together, he then looked at the sky and sighed before softly saying:
"Perhaps in another life, my liege, we could've been together"
He stayed there for a bit more and then slowly walked away, as if he didn't want to leave that place.
The red dressed man hated autumn, but perhaps what he hated the most was the awareness of having to live in a world without you in it.
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