#mod elux

[funamuseawritings]

request: Minami trying to learn to play a really hard song on the piano to surprise his mother.

The house was quiet, nearly empty, but for one small, warm presence. A young child sat at the great instrument, fingers barely reaching the keys, and the width far too much for his arms to reach. But, he saw when his mother played that she didn’t need the entire spread of keys. The boy puffed up his cheeks, taking a deep breath before reaching out and starting to try and play.

The dissonant sounds of unpracticed play started to echo through the house, dulled by the water that filled it. Yet, every unknowing step started to bring in a melody, a beat. Minami had watched his mother play many times before, and mimicked her, pressing one key in a shaky rhythm, He wanted to hear her song, at this time. It wasn’t often that he was home alone, and he missed her, even if she would be home in a short while. He thought and thought to himself, trying to recall how it went.

Minami tested every key he could reach, finding the ones that sounded close enough to Wadanohara’s song, and then tried his hardest to remember how they would be played. Melody eventually followed rhythm, his small fingers straining to follow her movements in his own way. It sounded silly, rather childish and slower than hers, but the child eventually got the hang of it, not even hearing as the door to the house opened.

His mother listened to the tune of the piano, eventually settling down to watch him as he played. Samekichi joined her, watching from the doorframe. Every sound was filled with love, and even if it wasn’t the best of arrangements, it sounded just like how they felt Minami was. She smiled, especially seeing how focused he was on the piece; usually he would come running right to the door, but he was buried in his work. He wanted her to be proud of him, and she definitely was.

When Minami felt he had finished his first ever composition of his mother’s song, he sat back, sighing heavily. His arms felt heavy, but he hadn’t a moment to rest before he heard clapping echoing through the small room, just behind him. He jumped in his seat, turning around in a panic before he saw his parents, smiling down at him.

“Did you learn that by yourself?” Her loving voice asked.

Minami managed to nod, curling up a bit on the seat. Wadanohara headed over, ruffling his hair before drawing him into a hug.

“You did wonderful. But I think you should make your own songs, as well,” she whispered, smile still painted on her face, heart swelling with joy.

Minami nodded, clinging to her. It was fun, and this feels nice, nice enough for him to keep trying.

[funamuseawritings]

Wadanohara visiting a friend (reader) that she's teaching magic and finding out that they accidentally burnt down their house after seeing a spider. Is this an okay request?

I sent her a letter, one that simply asked for her to come. I didn’t want to tell her what had happened or why I did, since, well, it was embarrassing.

And so she arrived, though looked around curiously when she saw there wasn’t a house for her to stay at. I smiled, waving her over, rubbing my face to hide what few tears were left. It was really embarrassing to be seen like this, especially when she had taught me what happened.

“What happened?” Wadanohara asked, her voice soft and gentle, understanding. She sat with me, in the still grass, listening to the wind carrying embers and smoke the other way.

“There was… a spider,” I said, looking away. My face was hot, almost as much as the fire was. At least no one got hurt. The spell was thrown at random, and it hit nowhere near the spider. It was like everything she had taught me went away in a moment.

“That’s… that’s fine! It happens to everyone once, I’m sure.” She wrapped an arm around me, squeezing. Wadanohara put her other hand up, wiggling her fingers and making a small image of a house. “We can always remake it. Together!”

“Am I ready for that?”

“Of course! I’ll help you out only as much as you want.” Her smile lit up the whole night sky. I buried my face into her shoulder, letting out a number f soft sobs, happy that she was my teacher. I heard that other witches were nowhere near as nice as she was.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

[funamuseawritings]

rise and shine! can i request some fukawada angst?

She never looked at him. Even on this arduous journey, Wadanohara never looked anywhere further than that shark. He had been at her side the whole time, hadn’t he? Didn’t he deserve a bit more?

Fukami bristled with frustration, watching her from behind. She kept talking with him, asking about his well-being, looking at him. Looking at him. He was nothing but trouble.It caused his head to pound, how frustrated he was. The octopus grumbled to himself, raring to cause trouble, or at least distract the children.

“There’s more, Wadanohara!” He heard that shark exclaim. The perfect distraction, Fukami felt, as then, she wasn’t looking at him. The octopus heard something scratching at the back of his head, but ignored it, having already made his decision.

As some mess of eyes and scales came close, Fukami stretched out his arms, grabbing at Wadanohara, stealing her for himself. She let out a cry of protest, yet as he took her away, she quieted, those darling eyes of hers looking right at him. He ran off to some empty corner of this corrupted castle, finally releasing her, partly, to her continued protests.

“Fukami, now is not the time!”

“They can handle themselves,” he replied, holding her fast.

“For now.. What’s wrong?” Wadanohara clung to her staff, looking miffed. Looking at him.

“... It’s nothing.”

“Then why are we putting the others in danger?”

“Samekichi can handle himself. You said that.”

“Let me go,” she wriggled from his tentacled grasp, glaring at him.

“... once this is over, he’s banished again.”

“He wasn’t guilty! You know that now!”

Fukami made no reply, simply staring at her. Wadanohara stared in return, her gaze no less venomous than his. Her grip tightened on the staff, echoes of her other familiars creeping through the hall, calling her name. Fukami adjusted his jaw, hearing his name just the same, only growing more annoyed at it.

“... Fine. He’ll be gone. Happy?” The witch shook her staff, a bell sound coming out. Fukami nodded, hearing her other allies coming at her beckon. Yet, he was here, right at her side, before she had ever made a sound. Was that not enough for her...?

[funamuseawritings]

hello!! if it's fine with you can i please get a fluffy tosatsu x hofuru story where tosatsu is having a really bad day and hofuru is there to comfort her?

The princess’ cries echoed throughout the entire kingdom. It was a rare moment when she did, but the few times she had ever cried, Totsusa made sure everyone knew about it, for better or not. It did, at least, let every servant in the palace knw that she needed to be attended to immediately. The lucky taker this time was Hofuru, who had been walking by her room at the time she began to cry.

With a poised look upon her face, the tanuki entered the princess’ room, finding the crimson rabbit piled over her table in a heap, hiding whatever it was must have been causing her tears. She kept quiet as she came closer, not wanting to frustrate her more, settling at her side as the poor girl covered her table in tears.

After waiting a moment, Hofuru finally spoke. “Young Princess, whatever is the matter?”

Totsusa took a moment for herself to respond, even to register that someone had entered her room. She sniffled, eventually looking to her retainer with a pitiful look. “My… my favorite knife..” she held up a black blade, a very clear and jagged crack running along its edge.

“Oh, Princess. What could have happened? I’ll have it fixed by tomorrow,” Hofuru quietly replied, wrapping her arm around Totsusa with a hum. The princess let out a few soft whimpers as she quieted her own crying, leaning heavily into the tanuki.

“I-I was just playing with it, and then.. This.” She buried her face into the tanuki, soon having her wrap her in a tight hug. Totsusa felt her fingers brushing through her hair, and felt her own tears start to dry.

“It’s fine. No one is going to yell at you or fear you for it,” Hofuru whispered, ruffling Totsusa’s hair as she held her. “Let me hear everything that happened, and I’ll fix it all. Just for you, my dear Princess.”

[funamuseawritings]

I don't suppose I could get a piece of Wadanohara being cursed by a certain eye witch, and becoming a doll, could I?~

Wadanohara couldn’t stop thinking about it. She had spotted something curious a few days ago, and it seemed to be hidden in every corner and cranny, anywhere there was darkness. Eyes. They peeked out from under her covers but closed and disappeared as she came close. The witch knew why, but they still unnerved her. It reminded her of that red, red sea, though where they came from was a bit nicer.

The sea witch had followed a dark path of her own accord, one that peeked out from an alley and snaked through some unknown leyline. Even if it was dangerous, she headed forward, as whatever was causing it might have been dangerous to her beloved sea. And as she went further, the eyes began to watch her, opening up in the darkness as if they were there the whole time. It made her nervous, all the more paranoid that this was the Red Sea, yet as she reached the end of the line, she found… a cottage.

A witch’s house, really. She had seen her before, and it wasn’t too startling that she was here, but Sagan’s path to the sea was rather alarming. Wadanohara knocked on the door, wanting to give her a piece of her mind.

An eye simply appeared on the door, watching her, unblinking. It creeped her out a bit. “Sagan, I need to ask you about… this.” She turned about, unsure of where to point.

“If you mean the pathway, I’ll move it later, don’t worry. I just wanted a way to easily see you.” The witch of eyes’ voice came from all around, almost a whisper.

“Okay, that’s… fine? What do you mean?” The sea witch would rather see her other now.

“… just to observe. I need to learn what I should do if I find myself in your position.” The pupil on the door seemed to turn, slowly, slowly, The witch had a hard time looking away.

“Alright. If you would, you could put an eye near me. I don’t want any of the fish to head down here by accident.” The eye on the door closed, and Wadanohara was left with only silence. She left, only noting a strange itchiness at the back of her head.

Now, everywhere there was no light, she saw eyes. The witch kept a light on during sleep, but could feel their stares. This is a bit much, isn’t it? She thought, as a lot of the time she felt them, she wasn’t doing any managing of her sea. Wadanohara pondered her situation while watching them overhead.

“… I can’t sleep,” the witch remarked aloud. “If you can hear me, Sagan, please stop for now. It’s making me nervous.”

She didn’t hear anything, but some of the eyes above closed. They almost looked like her silhouette as they did, a dress and hat of umbra in a sea of glowing watchers. She sighed, closing her own eyes, trying to rush off to sleep as the number dwindled.

But, as she closed her eyes, she didn’t drift into that same darkness above her. She looked around, her eyes sluggish to move, and saw an unfamiliar house, one shrouded in reds and clothes and… eyes. Lots of eyes. She wasn’t alone in looking, yet she felt like hers moved in slow motion. Wadanohara could hear something in the distance, echoing hollow in her head.

The witch of eyes entered the room, face and clothes looking everywhere at once. She struggled to sit still, fearful of what might happen if she was discovered as a hideaway. Even just the image of her was glassy, if this was a dream. Yet, Wadanohara felt it wasn’t especially as her attempts to hide failed, Sagan coming closer with an unending passive look on her face.

“Good morning, Wadanohara. I’ve finally made you the crowning piece of my collection,” she said, her quiet voice nearly deafening, even if it was calm, and almost pleasant to her ears. “Look around. Though I’ll be sure to take you out sometimes.”

The sea witch struggled to, but her eyes worked, spying plushes all around, the same unending gaze as Sagan upon them. If she could breathe, she would hyperventilate, but just turned her gaze back to the witch, who gave her the tiniest smile she had ever seen.

[funamuseawritings]

Could you do a prompt with Fumus x (Female!Adult)Licorice please? Starting out as abuse but ends in fluff. (If you don't feel comfortable doing abuse, then just fluff)

The clanking of the chains was truly maddening. They shifted, dug into her, jangled against one another, strained the plate they were bound to, dug into, dug into, dug into, dug into dug into dug into her. The least she could ask for is for the sound to go silent, but her ears were undamaged, as much as her head and cheeks and eyes pounded and begged for everything to stop, just for a moment. Her dizzy eyes couldn’t bear to look up anymore, only seeing her blood puddling and colored the same as her namesake.

And yet, her pounding head was the least of her pains. Every moment, without pause or even a bored breath, a god stood above her, laying out strike after strike, Fumus’ knuckles red from excitement and gore. Hell, he was even laughing as he did so, a sickening grin that positively glowed against his pale flesh. Licorice could hear it, a hissing, sputtering, asthmatic laugh, laced between perverted chuckles and insults too colorful to give commentary to all of them.

Licorice couldn’t bear the sound of the chains and the laughter and the insults any longer. She was losing track of time, track of what Fumus struck, and could barely feel it anymore. Just before she blacked out from pain, she felt a new pain, a dull, bruising, bone-breaking strike right at her stomach. A scream escaped her lips, a sad, ragged sound swallowed up by vomit and blood. It doesn’t stop, it’s not stopping, please stop this, I don’t want anymore, she wanted to beg, beg, plead for freedom, or at least for the pain to stop.

“Another worthless wretch,” Fumus sighed, pulling out a handkerchief and dusting off his hands with it. “Maybe once you finish your pitiful retching, I’ll want to talk to you, worm.”

But she simply couldn’t stop. Her body ached, her chest heaved, the chains jangled, and she could feel her fluids coating her slacks and mixing together in a phlegmy, disgusting mess. Her eyes were wide open now, not that they could see anything but that terrible, toothy grin emblazoned on her soul. After hyperventilating for moments, she heaved again, coughing up what was left of her stomach acids, sputtering for breath now as she calmed down, moment by moment. Licorice could feel the bruise forming, her blood rushing under her skin to clot and fill a wound that wouldn’t be visible.

“How boring.” The god reached out, snapping his fingers and fizzling away the chains, the woman falling upon him with more weight than she seemed to carry. She didn’t react as he dragged her over, causing her to spill into his lap as he sat. The demon instinctively gripped, clinging to Fumus even as her tender belly ached against his knees. She wanted to cry, but feared what the mess she was making on his lap would bring her later.

The god hummed, settling one of his hands on her head, brushing through her sweat-matted hair. Such a beautiful shade of black and beautiful layering of straight ridges. Of course, he figured, there would be more need to civilize her later, but a completely broken demon was no demon at all. This was the time for tenderness, the very nature of which he was known for! His fingertips trudged through, brushing out the newly created tangles, scratching against her scalp, massaging against her neck.

Licorice couldn’t react. All she wanted was this, now. She wanted to be cared for, wanted to be held like this, petted, and comforted. The pain was unbearable, almost as much as the deafening tinnitus and his insults that bounced around her brain. Would he treat her like that again? If she was good, maybe not. His fingers felt so nice. They were soft, girlish, even, well taken care of but still felt stained with the smoke of tobacco.

“Hmm…” Fumus mused, gazing down at her with his tired, empty eyes. “If you wish, we can stay like this for a time. I’m sure you are hungry, as well.”

Licorice chewed on the insides of her cheeks, eventually turning as much as she could, a single eye looking towards the strangely serene smile on his face. She couldn’t speak, but… she wanted to be cared for, and to eat. Her stomach ached. Her chin was the first to move, followed by the rest of her bruised, bloodied head, nodding slowly.

Fumus smiled a bit more, a soft, smoky cloud escaping his free hand and trailing over the demon’s face. Licorice felt like her skin had just caught fire, but moments later, before she could even scream, the wounds the god had inflicted disappeared. Stitches didn’t appear, but the skin sewed itself up, the blood drained away, her tears were dried. Following this tender cloud was Fumus’ hand, softly trailing its fingertips over her soft cheeks.

“Yes, you are truly beautiful. Do you want to stay with me, in my care?”

Licorice couldn’t help but to nod. This was wonderful.

[funamuseawritings]

How about a fluffy piece of Yosafire and Froze visiting Blancblack castle?

A manic run echoed from beyond the castle. In the distance, already out of breath, a melon-colored streak sprinted closer, her glasses fogged up and half-real tears escaping her eyes. Yosafire was, in a word, late. She overslept this morning, and had almost forgotten about her date with Froze until she checked her calendar to see what day it was. Oh, she was gonna be so mad, so mad she might hate her!!

The angel, of course, was there, having waited for quite a number of uncountable minutes. Her arms were as crossed as her expression was, glaring right through Yosafire. With a sigh, she tore herself away from her frustration, grabbing the demonlet by her arm and locking her own through it. “Let’s go to the inner garden first, okay?” Froze looked over, curiously innocent in expression.

Though she wanted to go visit the god and devil of the Garden, Yosaf kept quiet, smiling and nodding back, allowing Froze to lead the way. It was a calming trip, the gray halls welcoming them through and the various servants smiling at the familiar pair. The garden itself was even more lovely, with peonies, lilies, and hydrangeas all calling for the pair’s attention, carefully loved by Wodahs before them. The demon couldn’t help but watch her partner toying with the petals and enjoying the scent, a picturesque beauty framed in green and blue. Yosafire herself wasn’t overly enamoured by the flowers, but she did enjoy how wonderful everything smelled.

She eventually joined Froze in the lilies, settling into a patch of empty ground. The angel asked for her to lay down, and she did, resting her head in Froze’s lap. Yosafire soon found flowers above her, scents dripping into her nose, the stems twisting and turning bit by bit by her cute partner’s deft fingertips. It was an entrancing sight for her, with her careful eyes trained on the forming crown, the occasional sight of Froze’s wrists, now covered with petals and their smell, and her slowly forming smile.

“All done,” she stopped moving, setting the crown on Yosafire’s head, cupping her cheeks to squish them, giving the demon even more lovely smells to overwhelm her. Yosaf grinned, nuzzling into Froze, wrapping her arms up and around her.

“Thank you, Froze! I love it!” She giggled, nestling into her to receive the awaited calming pets.

[funamuseawritings]

Maybe a Chlomaki/Fungas fanfiction? ♥ Chlomaki has been avoiding the topic of her past for many years now. One night she has a nightmare about it, and Fungas confronts her about it. So she finally tells him. Thank you very much!

Falling, falling, falling. Who was she? Why was there no ground at her feet? Her shoulders ached, her back felt like it was rending itself from her body, and her nails were cracked, broken, bleeding. What little she could move her head gave sight above her to a yawning abyss of light, slowly filling with brackish, misshapen black. The sight brought her pain anew, a stabbing pain and the feeling of burning shaking her to the very core. Her heart raced, weak fingers feeling at her back, the ash infecting it draining into the sky. Heavy tears burgeoned from her eyes, though not enough to hide the ever darkening thanatosian lake below her.

She felt her descent slowing. Even here, she could tell it wasn’t because of an updraft or something pleasant. A dull thud shook her entire body, ripples of maleficent darkness tearing at and mending and breaking her aching bones. She couldn’t bear to look up, even if her malfunctioning body allowed her to, for even the glimpse of that smoggy hearth would turn her to greater despair. Her throat hacked and coughed, swallowing only oily water as she attempted to breathe in. Chlomaki’s eyes widened, pleading with her body and mind to not give up, to remember… what?

A crash, a heave, an embrace. The weakened, mangled angel looked up, seeing a sight of endless, hope-devouring malice. His eyes gazed down towards her, filled with disgusting pollution that poured into Chlomaki even at just the appearance of them. Why? She couldn’t get away from him, even this far away, even at the end of the world. Her body refused to run, or maybe it wasn’t able to anymore. His laughter, shallow, hollow, rasping, echoed through her anxious head, even as his lips didn’t move an inch. The echo, echo, echo was enough to wake the dead, enough to wake even the deepest dreamer and leave her screaming, cursing, drowning in her sweat in her bed.

Before she knew it, the witch stifled her wretched howl, black speech wriggling its way through her fingertips. Spells most foul echoed through her room, putting her into a spell most fowl, lacking its head in a panic. Her eyes flicked up, focusing, focusing on her chandelier, the one thing she could truly be sure of in her room that wasn’t from that forsaken world. Her blinks counted down from ten, then back up, and back down again, her breath coming back from its unearthly trip. So long had she sat in her panicked reverie that Chlomaki hadn’t looked left nor right, and the equally terrified familiar made himself known with a careful, familiar caress through her hair.

Rather than leaning into him, the witch initially recoiled, one last hex sputtering through her fingers and singing the poor man on the nose. Fungas held his hands aloft in surrender, grasping a now glowing orb so she might see him. “It’s me, Chlo. You’re okay now.” He dared to get a bit closer, just offering the light in an open palm. She shakily pulled her hand from her face, taking his hand and collapsing forward, sobbing into his lap, free hand wreathing itself in the blankets.

Fungas let his own free hand fall upon her hair, familiarly acquainting itself with it, soothingly petting and massaging her scalp. This wasn’t the first time she had awoken from a nightmare, though this was far worse than she had before. He didn’t speak another word, allowing his darling mistress to speak first if she so desired. She gasped for air, heady breath hot on his legs, her small body shaking with every exhalation. She kept her eyes screwed shut, her solace being her wakefulness and the fingertips of her dearest familiar.

After a time, her breath steadied, and she leaned her cheek into Fungas, rather than her nose. His hands had extricated any tangles in Chlomaki’s hair at this point, gliding lovingly through the abyssal sea. The witch coughed softly, nestling closer to him than before, shoulder and wings pressing up against the crocodile’s side. The light in her hands fell away, floating lazily through the room and painting it in an eerie blue luminescence. “Ah… ahem..”

The man looked down, ever as tender as he ever was, resting his palms against her head and muting his movements. “Yes, Chlo?”

Her reddened eyes watched the orb float along, unconsciously moving it in a somber dance. “I feel you already figure something is up, but… I have kept something hidden for a while now.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he whispered, partaking in the stargazing his mistress orchestrated.

“No, no, I want to. It’s nothing big, so don’t worry over it.” A pause hung itself in the rafters, falling upon the room as her voice cut the rope. “Once upon a time was an angel…”

Fungas, of course, listened calmly to his dear, wondering whether or not she might still be called that, at least to him. He smiled drearily, returning to his caresses as her story filled the room with tearful and painful memories.