#but perhaps... maybe not for much longer....?

[unholyhelbig]

Helloooo, i saw the requests were open so i wanted to ask one for the Oversight series like, Reader gets seriously injured when protecting Natasha from an unexpected attack on the estate, Reader insists on staying behind and covering their exit to the weapons shed for ammo so Natasha takes Ronnie and goes to secure her in the shed, when she comes back there are only a few stragglers left but cant find Reader till a long blood smear on the floor leads them to Reader who is unconcscious and bleeding out. Nat and Ronnie worried but Reader pulls through tho not easily.

Sry i know its a lotttt of angst but it would be cool to read.

Title: The Shades of Bloodlust

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: After a near fatal injury, Natasha finds her wife bleeding out on the kitchen floor.

Warnings: Blood (so much), mention of animal death (bird), Gun violence, cannon-typical mafia violence, medical talk, grief experiences, hurt/comfort, horrible grammar I don't proofread.

[a/n: It's been a very long time since I've enjoyed writing for oversight, but thank you for this prompt, it sparked up some passion!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Natasha Romanoff had seen many types of blood. When she was six years old, she’d been playing in the front yard when a dull thud drew her attention away from the task at hand, that being making  mud pies out of a patch of semi-hardened dirt in the corner of the quadrant.

It had been a bird, fallen or thrown from the nest that rested in the crook of a knotted oak. It was so unfathomably small, and moving just enough to show Natasha that maybe it was worth saving. But then, she’d seen the small trickle of sticky dark red and she swallowed down whatever nausea reared it’s head.

She’d watched the blood with a sort of sick fascination. Something that was once so alive, is now splattered out in front of her like a dropped stone. Perhaps the worst moment of all was when she decided to walk away. When the sun had dipped and the sky had turned into a muggy blue and she realized that she’d been standing there for longer than necessary.

The next time Natasha saw a copious amount of blood was when she was nine years of age. She was known for her silence at that point, often communicating in small gestured and the occasional grunt. Her mother was ever patient and her father would talk at her with a loudness that made her flinch.

She’d slotted herself between the railings of the staircase. Natasha had mastered the art of quiet, of making herself as small as possible. Her father didn’t notice her, as cunning as he is. If he had, he wouldn’t have fired the gun. Natasha was upset that he had done it in the study, close enough to all those books, soaking into their spines. The color was thready and crimson and dripped around the mans head.

Natasha had scampered up the stairs before he fired a second shot.

There was an unsettled realness to blood. The indication of an injury, often at her own hands. She melded it like art, drew it only when necessary. She was never reckless in her actions. There was never a need to bleed anyone dry unless the situation called for it. There was a lot of blood in the human body. Too much.

It seemed like gallons of blood had dripped into the kitchen; as if a deer had it’s neck slit and was dragged from one place to another. Something was struggling, fighting with the very last of it’s energy to maintain some form of life, no matter the quality.

Natasha had the muzzle of her gun down to her side, creeping slowly through a hallway that she’d moved through a million times on instinct. She wouldn’t have noticed the blood right away if the warmth didn’t soak into the fabric of her socks. It was a shock compared to the cold damp of the grass she’d just treaded.

The back storm doors were open, the subtle blue glow from the pool was the only guidance she trusted. Yes, there was blood, a lot of blood, but she held out hope that it wasn’t yours. Natasha felt bile feather at her throat.

When the two of you had both heard a noise downstairs that didn’t quite belong, you insisted that she take Ronnie to the shed. The same fortified shed that she’d left you years and years ago. It was difficult enough to deny you and corrall a nine-year-old away from something much more interesting than sleep.

“Besides,” You whispered, sleep-warm, “No one with half a lick of sense is dumb enough to break in here.”

But, she’d heard gunfire the moment she settled Veronica in between two locked cases of something a bit too nefarious to consider right now. Natasha rounded the estate and crept inside and it was too quiet for her liking. Much too quiet.

The more she moved into the kitchen, the clumsier she got, like someone grabbed her soul and untethered her so she could watch what was about to unfold from above. Natasha’s food slid and she didn’t have time catch herself on the counter.

She landed on her knees, hard. Syrupy red coated her hands and soaked through her pants and splattered across her front. A sob dislodged itself from her throat in the process. Natasha crawled to the source, rounded the island with so much dread at the base of her stomach.

“No,” she rasped out “No, no, no.”

You were on your back, one arm stretched out towards the sliding glass doors as if your last coherent thought was getting to Ronnie and Natasha. She couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from. There was too damn much. Not more than she’d seen before, but somehow infinite when it was spurting from you.

“You can’t do this. You can’t leave.”

Natasha searched your wrist for a pulse first, couldn’t find one, and went to your neck. When she still couldn’t locate anything, she pressed her ear to your chest. There was a small rasp, a small stuttered inhale that was much too far away from the exhale, but it was something.

“Baby,” she slapped your face lightly, hovering over you. “You have to wake up for me. Wake up, sweet girl.”

You coughed and it was a gurgled exploration of soft sound. Blood was in your lungs, or your throat, or both, but your eyes shot open in fear either way. Natasha hated when you were in pain, but feeling something was better than nothing.

“N…Nat.” You coughed again, trying to sit up, but Natasha held you down. “Where?”

“In the shed, she’s safe in the shed. I’m going to call someone okay? But you have to stay awake for me while I do. Can you do that?”

You hummed, a noncommittal noise, but reached up and grabbed her hand with the slightest squeeze you could manage. Natasha pawed at her back pocket and found her phone. It slid from her hand once, dropped into the smeared blood. Yelena picked up on the third ring.

“Ona ranena, ona boleye chem ranena.” Natasha stopped, couldn’t catch herself before a sob dropped from her lips. “I don’t care that it’s the middle of the night. I need Lincoln Campbell and I need him now.”

She hung up before Yelena could answer, your hand was going slack in her own. She trusted her sister enough to follow through with the trauma surgeon, even if it was bleary-eyed and in pajama pants.

“Moya krasivaya devushka, pay attention to me, okay?”

“You,” your voice was nothing but a whisper “Y-you’re impossible not to pay attention to, Natasha.”

She let out a watery laughed and pulled your hand against her chest, gripped it like a vice. Held onto it harder than she’d ever held onto anything before. Of course, you were flirting while bleeding out on the kitchen floor.

“L-listen to me. I-I want” You swallowed hard, voice thick “I need you to take care of Ronnie. It has to… to be you. You’re her mom, she loves you. I… love you..”

“Stop, love, stop.” She brushed hair away from your face, hardened with dark red sediment. “Stop acting like you’re saying goodbye. Because you’re not, you hear me? You’re going to stick around and we’re going to grow old together, and we’re both going to take care of Veronica.”

“Okay,” You breathed out, something tapering off into a crackling cough.

“Okay,” Natasha sniffed, bringing her hand to your lips, kissing your knuckles. “Okay.”

Natasha Romanoff had seen many types of blood. She just never wanted to see yours.

What little words that her daughter had begun to piece together over the last three years that Natasha had been married to you, were stripped from the bone. She’d grown accustomed to silence, the startling quiet that came with unknown tragedy.

She was attached to Natasha like Velcro; her small body curled under her chin and digging her face into the comfort of the small of her neck. Ronnie played with the gold chain that hung around Natasha’s neck. The one you’d gotten her to replace something once lost.

Natasha hadn’t removed herself from the end of the sofa for the past two hours. She reveled in the scent of Ronnie, in the way she had a slightly citrus edge to her that was so much like her mother. There was a warm weight to her, tears soaking into the fabric of Natasha’s shirt.

Clint and Yelena sat unsettled in opposite ends of the living room to the point where Natasha nearly found it infuriating. You always knew how to fill the silence, to make everyone feel at ease when Natasha got too prickly. You always joked that she could start a civil war in the city with her temper, level the city all the same.

Right now, that wasn’t evident in her stance. She cradled the descendant of you close and kept her calm until her breath evened out into small, snotty, gasps. Natasha traced her fingers lightly up and down Ronnie’s spine.

Natasha didn’t flinch when Lincoln walked into the room anymore. He still treaded lightly but it was impossible not to notice the only presence in the manor that flitted around like a shadow. He was wringing his hands nervously and Natasha never knew if that was out of fear of who he was working for, or the nerves of practicing unsanctioned medicine.

“Vital signs look good and swelling around the entry and exit points are good. She’s been stable for the last twenty-four hours. I’d say, since she’s held that, that we can start pulling her from the medically induced coma.” He took a stuttering pause, glanced around the brittle room. “If that’s what you’d like, Mrs. Romanoff.”

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” She frowned in confusion.

“We could keep her under longer, have her heal up a bit more before we bring her to.”

Natasha glanced towards Clint and Yelena, both of them had nearly blank, but relieved expressions on their faces. Ronnie curled in closer, made a small noise in her throat that Natasha could feel against her skin.

“I uh… if we woke her now, would she be in pain?”

“She’s been shot three times; she’ll feel the effects of that either way. I always push the option incase the family isn’t quite ready to face the recovery process that comes next. They’ll have to eventually, but sometimes knowing a loved one is okay, stable, is a breath of relief.”

Natasha nodded because she had nothing else to confidently do. A moment to breathe was important. Seeing the color of your eyes again held more weight. “Wake her, please, Doctor Campbell.”

“Of course,”

Natasha found herself hugging Veronica to steal some of her warmth, she buried her nose into her hair, breathed in that sharp citrus. She clenched her eyes shut, tried to will the pressure behind them away. Her shoulders were undoubtedly lighter.

“I uh, I know we joke about y/n only appealing to you because of how fast her trigger finger is, but I am glad she’s okay.”

She glowered at the girl, wanting to chastity her, but there were dark, sleepless circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale and gaunt with worry.  So, she laughed instead, not loud enough to disturb the sleeping girl in her arms, but enough to break the tension that was layered thickly in the room.

Natasha eventually shifted Veronica until she was splayed against clint, his large arms working half as hard as Natasha’s did. She needed a moment, several moments, with you as you came out of your drug-induced haze.

Her body threatened to give up as she ascended the stairs. She often cursed her parents for leaning into extravagance when designing the home. By the time she reached the top of the landing, she was bone-tired.

She steeled herself to push into the room, and when she did, she figured she would fold into herself. You looked so small, piled within a mound of duvets and pillows to keep your pierced arm propped up at the right degree.

Natasha watched you as if you were a wounded animal. The slow rise and fall of your chest, the even softer sounds of your exhales. All reassurances, yes, but startling. You had always been headstrong. She should have known that you’d fight off death like you had her when the two of you first met.

“oh, darling.”

Even from here, she could see the tension in your face. There was a furrow of your brow, the slight downturn of your lips that were much paler than usual. Lincoln had hooked you up to an IV, dark red stemming from the bag. It brought Natasha some comfort, seeing something go in, instead of leak out.

Natasha made herself as slight as possible, curling up on her side of the bed. She watched the slow and therapeutic up and down of your chest. It wasn’t stuttered as it had been. Natasha wanted to reach out and touch you, but held herself strong. She got close enough to feel the warmth of you, though.

She drifted into a state that was half sleep, and half wakefulness. But, when you stirred, it was in one jerky motion that had her shooting up. You never disturbed gracefully, usually pulled from the trenches of your own mind.

You blinked your eyes open, stared straight up at the ceiling. A guttural groan hit the back of your throat. You had yet to notice Natasha. She’d froze the moment you stopped freezing. She watched as you took in your own sluggish state, the packed wounds on your shoulder, your stomach and your leg. All three spots no less than critical.

“Oh, fuck.”

Your head dropped to the side, stare lighting up when you saw Natasha. She still didn’t break herself out of her stone prison. She gazed at you in awe, and you gazed right back. “Hi,”

The pitiful greeting broke her from her stupor. A laughed sob came from her mouth. Of course, you’d offer something soft despite the sharp edges of the situation. Natasha crumpled, she touched the spots of you she was sure wouldn’t hurt you.

Her hand was placed against your cheek, lips pressed so gently against yours they could have been phantom, a figment of your imagination. But you felt the wetness of her tears. The deepness of a second kiss that you cried into.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” She pulled back, shifted a strand of hair from your eyes. She had repeated it for your sake and her own. “fuck, you’re okay.” 

“Mm, you would have killed me if I died.”

“Damn right, malysh. You scared the hell out of me. When I… When I saw you on that floor, I thought I’d lost you and it was the worst feeling in the world. There was so much blood, I was sure you wouldn’t…”

Natasha didn’t finish her sentence. She nosed into the small of your neck, breathed in the antiseptic orange scent of you. Rationally she knows she should go get Veronica, or Yelena, or Lincoln. But she wanted to be selfish right now. She wanted to cling to you and with the vice grip you were delivering back.

Her tears soaked into the collar of your shirt, but neither of you mentioned it. It was startling when Natasha cried. She was always so in control, so put together despite the pressures thrust her way. But, when it came to you, she felt safe enough to break down, to tremble against you.

“Ronnie is worried, but okay.” Natasha mumbled into your throat. “Exhausted from all the worrying and passed out on the couch. At least she was when I came up here.”

“God, I traumatized her, didn’t I? I traumatized my wife and our kid.”

“No, no.” Natasha chuckled softly. “You didn’t. You had me take her to the shed. She didn’t see anything.”

Another hum, this one relieved, moved through you. Natasha liked the way it felt against her skin. Liked even more, the life she felt under her touch. The reassurance that you were going to be just fine.

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[offdxty]

The aura surrounding Arthur - the subtle change of sorts, including longer pauses between each spoken sentence, a certain kind of hesitation, a coolness to warm syllables - is noted by Kane, has been for a little while now; Perhaps some would see the man's stance toward him as cold, as dismissive - as if the Doctor is trying to bring distance between himself and the other...

But not Kane. He does notice everything, as said, but he sees it in a different light; The touches to his ribs, the way Arthur's hands linger just a little longer than they should, accompanied by his fingers being so gentle as he applies the ointment - taking their time, no rush to any of the motions...

Those actions speak for themselves. They tell Kane that something else must be going on, that Arthur didn't start to despise him after...

After everything.

And it keeps him calm, allows for inner worry to remain leveled out; Of course he wonders what is going on, why the other acts the way he does, but Kane doesn't ask, not yet at least. He simply stays sitting where he is, a dark gaze flicking away to glance down at where those fingers rub the medicine into the skin - painting little circles as they do, another touch lingering longer than expected before it pulls back.

Kane inhales, exhales, his gaze trailing back up - looking, taking in the sight, observing, watching. Despite having changed, evolved in some ways - became a someone rather than remaining a something - he is still doing what he's been done ever since he'd opened his eyes for the very first time...

Taking and consuming any information given to him, trying to dissect, to figure out, to reassemble.

And Kane is very much trying to read Arthur - his features, his eyes, the tilt to his lips, the subtle knit to a pair of brows. Perhaps some would find Kane's inistent gaze a little rude, with him looking in such an intense way - but he means well, and his dark eyes carry something gentle, something soft, something... open. Inviting, maybe, should the other want to take it and open up a bit at some point.

Previously lifted arms fall back into a more relaxed state when everything is over and done with, when the ointment has been applied; Perhaps Arthur wants to wrap a bandage around him again, Kane does not know; He'll lift his arms again, should it be the case.

"...Well, I can't smell anything bad." A reply to that previously spoken hint of a joke, a brief smirk offered in return. "Perhaps my nose is... built different."

An amused exhale, a blink, before those doe-eyes fall away - focusing on where his own hands rest on his lap, fingers curling around another, just rubbing skin against skin in an idle motion as that smile fades...

Are you sleeping alright?

Kane expected that question to follow - had wished for the man to give him an answer instead, but... perhaps he will, one day. If he won't, that's also okay - it's personal, after all, and Kane understands.

"...Not really." There's no use in lying here, because he's sure the other could just take a look at the camera recordings and spot him waking up every hour or such; Healthy sleep includes being able to slide into some deeper phases of rest, and... well, Kane's quite sure he didn't get there.

He could stop at this point, could refuse to explain further, but... he trusts Arthur. He trusts him more than he trusts himself, and he wants to open up to him.

So he does.

"The pain is annoying. But... I don't think that's what kept me awake. ---I was sleeping in between, I did sleep, just..."

A shrug, another blink, a brief inhale followed by another exhale; Kane glances back up, toward Arthur - just for a moment - before his attention is back on his hands, watching digits pull and tug a bit on the fabric of his pants.

Getting rid of some inner tension.

"...I've been dreaming a lot, lately. ---I have been dreaming before, so the concept of it isn't new to me, but... as said, I've had a lot of dreams and they just kept coming. As soon as I closed my eyes, I started dreaming... ---and then I woke up."

A bottom lip is being sucked between teeth, with Kane chewing a bit on the soft skin before he lets go of it.

"Sometimes it's... not so bad. I've dreamt of pretty plants - I've dreamt of deer wearing flowers as antlers." A brief softening of his expression, just for a moment, "Other things, though? ...Not so nice."

Arthur didn’t answer right away. He didn’t usually take long to speak, not around Kane; he was many things, but distant was rarely one of them. With his coworkers, perhaps he could be, but he hardly ever spoke to them - today, there was a pause. Not cold, never uncaring, but just something slower - listening to Kane talk about the bruising, information that he did deeply care about. 

He sat at the bed gently, listening to the words; it all sounded right. It should hurt, to cough. It should hurt to breathe too deeply - but it was good to hear that he was able to be a bit less careful, that it felt like the bruising was getting smaller. 

Arthur wouldn’t confess it, but he had been concerned that Kane wouldn’t heal in the same way a human did. Hearing that it wasn’t getting worse, being able to see the other man’s wounds healing; all of it was good. 

He wished he could just wrap his arms around the man again. He wished he had reason to.

Harrow’s hands were already moving, however, wordless. Cold palms brushed across Kane’s side, first, gentle, checking for sensitivity before applying any kind of pressure. He wasn’t looking at the bruises just yet - just testing to make sure that Kane was being honest, that they weren’t worse than they had been the day before. 

Getting better. It seemed to be. 

“Mm,” he nodded, glancing over to the tray of salves. “It used to smell worse than it does now. I’ve gotten better at it.” He gave a small smile, something close to a joke; it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Arthur dipped two fingers into the salve, gently starting to press it along Kane’s side. His touch was clinical only in motion; everything else about it was tender. The way his gaze remained soft, the way his fingers carefully soothed the skin. 

He didn’t speak again, for a few moments. 

There was a soft sound from his fingers spreading the balm, mixing with the low buzz of distant fluorescent lights. Arthur’s hands moved as they always did, with a careful practiced ease. He never lingered too long, but also didn’t rush - every bruise was given a bit more attention than it needed, today. 

“Are you sleeping alright?” 

Again, the question came just a bit too clinically, asked without Arthur looking up. He was still focused on the pattern of color, tracking which parts had faded and which hadn’t. 

He wanted Kane to sleep more than he’d been sleeping. He wanted him to eat more than soup. Little things, but things all the same - worries. Concerns. 

Love, if he were being honest with himself.

He hadn’t been honest with himself in a long time. 

Arthur’s thumb brushed a little too slowly over a patch of fading blue, and he caught himself too late. He retracted it by inhaling gently through his nose - his shoulders shifted, barely noticeable. 

He was glad that Kane was healing - he was glad to hear that voice, kind and gentle and happy. Already, it was melting away his tensions.

[bittermarz]

let down - fem!reader x daniela avanzini

pairing: daniela avanzini x fem!reader

synopsis: you just wanted some alone time after being cheated on by your longtime girlfriend, she manages to find you at a quiet diner on the edge of town.

genre: angst, kinda suggestive but nothing explicit.

content warning: cheating. toxic relationship, daniela is so evil, reader folds SO fast…

wc: 1.4k

a/n: this was written in like an hour. please dont perceive me.. was yearning and needed an outlet and somehow it became a katseye fanfic. not proofread💔🥀

You sat in an empty diner at three in the morning; in a body that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

The streaks of rust along the edges of the metal frames of the vinyl chairs made the place seem like a rapidly decomposing organism. It seemed to breathe around you, but desperately— like it was begging to be free.

Maybe you were begging too.

Fluorescent lights shone like the soulless sun above your head, and the smell of grease and something dead overwhelmed your senses, the interior was hazy, was something burning? You couldn’t tell.

You couldn’t quite place your finger on what about this place had drawn you in. Perhaps it was the looping font of the faded, cracked, sign— the font that reminded you of beautiful cursive. You hadn’t seen it in a long time.

Maybe what had drawn you in was the jukebox, as it spouted a melody you were all too familiar with. A ballad that reminded you far too much of what you were running from.

This late, the place was dead silent; the song droning on and mixing with the sound of sizzling becoming oddly eerie. It made your chest hurt in anticipation of something— something that you couldn’t recover from.

You scan the menu, a garish purple, uncomfortably clashing with the otherwise neutral interior design. Or maybe it complimented it perfectly, you were far too in your head to tell.

You’re desperately convincing yourself to order something, when something— or rather, someone appears in your peripheral.

Daniela Avanzini.

A face no man or woman could ever forget.

Eyes that seemed to catch the light in every room and reflect it tenfold. The smile that once upon a time, would have brought a smile to your face too.

The woman that had changed your life, and ruined it.

You’re lost in thought, looking for any possible escape route— then Daniela’s plopping down in front of you in the booth.

The grin that stretches across her face at the sight of you is disturbing. You feel your stomach turn just at the sight of her, and something in you screams at you to run.

It isn’t long before she speaks.

“Still running?” She says, that grin still in place on her stupidly perfect face, she says it like she didn’t cause all of this, like she wasn’t the reason you left.

You just gawk at her; the absolute gall of her to follow you at this hour. “I’ve never run away from anything.” You’re looking out the window to avoid her gaze; you don’t trust yourself this close to her.

“Oh? I could’ve sworn you left me at that party all alone.” Dani smirks, she always does this; acts like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. You know she’s always one step ahead. Always dangling what you want most right in front of you, and ripping it away just when you think she’ll give it to you.

“Daniela..” You lean back into the plush vinyl booth, hoping somehow it could swallow you whole. “You didn’t seem so alone when I saw you.”

“You know they don’t mean anything to me.” She says, her eyes sad and pleading, you know it’s deceptive but you cannot help the pang in your heart at the sight.

You wish you could believe her, convince yourself she truly loved you— but who would do this to the person they love? It was always the same story, you catch her all over someone else at a party, and she had the same excuse.

It started out fine enough, the first time was far too late in some random frat house, she had a sorority girl in her lap, despite knowing you were around there somewhere. You confronted her, and all you got was, Baby, I was drunk, it was an accident.

Stupidly, you took her back; some part of you believed she loved you, truly. But as time went on, she got sloppier and sloppier at hiding her infidelity. Like tonight— you’d asked her to bring you a drink, and she seemed to disappear. Twenty minutes you spent waiting around on her, just to walk into the kitchen and see her tongue shoved down some random chick’s throat.

It was almost business as usual at this point, she cheats, begs for you to take her back, usually with some grand gesture that had you swooning. Somehow, you always ended up in her bed, nothing on you except for the thin sheen of sweat that always covers you after sex with Dani.

She’d always rush you out early in the morning, with a soft kiss on the cheek and a promise to be better.

You’d stopped convincing yourself she’d change for you.

Honestly, you don’t know why you were still doing this to yourself, any self-respecting person would’ve let Daniela be old news by now.

Something about her just dragged you in, you felt like a captive whenever her eyes landed on you, in the best possible way. You loved to be the one she chose, even if it was for a night.

Except, tonight was supposed to be different— you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t keep letting her in, stop letting her take what she wants from you and then discard you later.

You snap out of your thoughts, the girl in front of you waiting for an answer. She was always so patient with you.

“I’m tired of this, Dani.” You say, there’s an unmistakable edge to your voice. When you say it, it feels like an oath to yourself— a plea for this to end, because your heart couldn’t take it.

“What does that mean, hm?” She spits, you can tell she’s getting angry, something within you stirs at it, she cares enough about you to be upset with you, that’s something right? “You’re just gonna cast me aside? Like what we have doesn’t matter?” She continues, her tone is strained— she’s holding something back.

“And what do we have?” You ask, eyes leaving the window as you sit up to focus on her. She is so uncannily beautiful in this light, it catches her eyes just right, and makes them an intoxicating shade of blue.

“Something great.” She rushes it out, voice softening, if you were in a better headspace, you would’ve noticed how unconvincing it sounded. “Look, I love you so much, but all you do is push me away.”

She reaches across the table, and settles her hand over yours— her palm is warm against the back of your hand, and something in your resolve crumbles.

You glance down at where your hands are now joined, you love her so unshakably, not even her own actions could make you leave, in the end. “I love you too.” Your voice is shaky, but a pressure seems to lift from your chest as you say it.

You look back up and something in her face has changed. She looks victorious, like she’s gloating. It pisses you off in the way only she can, you know she’s got you in her web now.

“There she is.” She says, her smile all teeth, her eyes are narrowed and borderline predatory; you feel yourself shrink under her gaze.

“Take me home?” Your eyes never leave hers, and you can practically feel the pride radiating off of her when you ask.

“Anything for my baby.” She says, you wish you could hear that more.

You both make your way to her car, the familiar sight of the red Mustang is oddly soothing. It reminds you of when she’d take you for late night joyrides when you first got together. Before everything had changed.

She opens the passenger door for you, the absolute epitome of chivalry, her shallow acts of kindness never last long, so you enjoy them while you can.

A smile manages to make its way onto your lips as she takes her place in the driver's seat. She turns to you, and dark eyes rake over your figure once before she starts the car.

A hand finds its way onto your thigh, like it belongs there, you find your own resting over it, guiding it higher, a silent plea.

It’s not long until you’re back at her house, stumbling your way into her bedroom with feverish kisses, hands slipping under shirts and exploring skin you both knew all too well.

She’s pushing you backwards until your knees hit the bed, when you realize, you will most definitely regret this in the morning.

You can’t find it in you to stop.

When you wake up the next morning, the spot next to you is empty.

[gawkgokgok]

Scribble

Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!reader

summary: You return to KL after six years and he still makes you feel twelve...

warnings: idk they just argue... and have no sense of personal space... or casual eye contact hehe precisely 2,160

a/n: so... i lied🫶 i'm just obsessed with this man and i love the idea of him with the daughter of the man he hates, but also admires. i wrote this in the haze so dont judge😭. English ain't my shit, sorry for the mistakes. hope this won't be a waste of your time also Valisor (Valīsor) is the name i came up with for my dragon if i was Targaryen, i just sprinkled it here, but if someone can do my silver boy justice, i willingly give you the opportunity to use this name, id love to see him come to life in fanfictions😋

—

Your foot finally makes contact with the earth.

As much as you love the sea —the swimming, the sailing— you're only half a Velaryon. Your heart will always be torn apart, like the horizon; one pulling to the endless skies, one pulling to the depthless seas.

King's Landing.

At last. After six years.

You inhale the warmth that Dragonstone offers rarely, but capital's stench fill your lungs as well. You turn on your heels, Baela and Rhaena stepping on the dock behind you, they seem relieved too— about the solid ground, not the family awaiting in the Red keep.

—

Servants, like ants, your luggage, like breadcrumbs, gets carried into the fortress that seems more gloomy than you would ever remember. Mayhaps it's the King's health, mayhaps the Hightowers' reign.

Some nobel men and ladies greet you, along with the Queen and her Dornish guard dog. You carry the conversation as it is expected of you, following the courties deeper, past the gates.

—

"To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Your head snaps to the left. That voice— velvety, odd, but not unfamiliar. You halt in your tracks, concreted in the middle of the stone steps. The strangers beside you shrink away, rushing inside the castle.

You're alone. Left like you're not even a princess. Like you don't even need to be protected.

Not with him.

Nobody can protect you from him.

Aemond stands there, partly in the shadows, just beside a pillar— not leaning on it, never that casual. His hands firmly behind his straight back, chin tilted high and that violet eye staring through you, hoping to cut without lifting a finger.

"Cousin." You greet, calm tone, clear mind, collected... Stay collected.

"Already taunting me?" You add, collecting your skirts and coming down the steps, taking him in. Brow lifting sightly, for a moment, not aware of your reaction. Gods, He got tall. Yet another thing that you'll never top.

You have a bit of history since you were children. You're a year younger than him. Your nameday comes first by a few moons, but just as you reach his age, he was already older. Even though you had an egg when your late mother was still pregnant with you, he claimed Vhagar before you bonded with Valisor. Even though you were quick, he was enduring. It was easy to be better than your younger sisters, but him? You could never reach him, no matter how hard you tried. Maybe you hated him for that, for his greatness. Maybe it was just that childish jealousy.

His iris slightly shrinked. "Perhaps." he replied, voice deeper, mature, hair neary longer than yours. He wasnt letting you in on his motives, he just seemed pleased that you were prideful enough to entertain it. If he's provoking, he was even harder to read now...

"Ahh" You mused, face lacking the expressions. You can't give him that satisfaction. "Must've been lonely, having only one princess to taunt."

Aemond hummed. Not the sound that would smooth your ears, no— dark, twisted. Hairs on your nape rising, almost growing grey.

"I do not always taunt the weak," he replied. "You just happen to be a favorite target of mine."

"Really?" You sang, tilting your head, feigning intrigue to his answer, clasping your hands. "Fortunate me to have years of peace then?"

You've changed. You had to.

Becoming an angry whining mess after each of his jabs was not an option. You're not that little girl anymore. Now you know how to stand your ground, to keep the banter up without letting your emotions control your tongue, or hands.

He betrayed nothing. Not his thoughts, not his feelings— if he's even capable of having them. But his eyelid just lowered briefly, a sign enough that he was intrigued. And already, its getting under your skin, he was even worse than how you remember.

"You're more level-headed now," He observed. "Though it appears your pride remains as large as ever."

"So does yours. Certainly, your height will never reach that size." You counter, eyes gesturing up and down to him. Oh, how you still didnt like him.

Aemond's eye narrowed. So he decided to retaliate as he always used to do, in the one way he knew would get you to break.

"You're too skinny to have such a big mouth."

"And youre too old to argue like a child." You muttered, voice slightly betraying the rise of your emotions, one brow slightly twitching to the other. You hate it. Hate the stupid names and insults he used to come up with. Hate how well he still remembers you.

Gods, how could six years pass, and he still makes me feel twelve again?

And you will never be immune to him.

"You're not exactly the picture of maturity yourself, princess." He retorted, stepping closer— proving his point, wanting to see you succumb to his feet.

You glared up at him, feeling pressure in your teeth— he made you clench your jaw. Something was going on. Something bigger than arguments or banter...

"Thank you for the warm welcome." You mutter again, taking a step back before turning and leaving. Steps hurried and visibly agitated as you ascended the stairs, hoping to shelter behind the thick walls.

Aemond watched you walk off, a slight scowl on his face. You didn't look back. You can't. You're tired from traveling, you need a bath, food and rest.

But just as you round a corner, hoping to reach your respective chambers for the stay, strong but restrained pull on your upper arm made you stagger back a step.

"Where are you going?" You heard in his voice that's not the question he cared about.

Your eyes wide when he tugged you back, but a deepening frown shrivelled your face as you looked up at him, snatching your arm away from his hold. "Don't touch me." You muttered, regaining composure.

He rolled his eye... actually rolled his eye. As if you were some brat he needed to tolerate. You were being more irritable than you'd usually be and he was willing enough to keep prodding and poking to see what would come of it.

"Why? Are you that mad I called you skinny?" Now he muttered. Why were you so genuienly angry? Why did you run off like he mentioned Laena?

"No, I just can't stand that you still want to keep up with this bullshit after so many years." You snaped, low, not wanting the court to hear. You sounded almost out of breath, looking up at him with certain seriousness as if all of this bothered you. And it did. More than it should've. But there was something in you, the need for this to cease, the need for him to take you seriously when 'no' leaves your lips. You're... vulnerable.

Aemond studied you for a moment. He seemed confused, but it made him want to continue the push. "Why does it bother you, then? Why do you care so much about what I say?"

"Because. Because it has always bothered me, Aemond." You swallow, feeling your throat tighten, especially when saying his name after so long.

You're close, leaned towards each other as you try to explain yourself, not wanting anyone to overhear, wanting him to see you just this once.

"Because, after all this time, you have no idea how much-" You choke slightly and then exhale to calm yourself. "...how much your taunting... bothers me." Hurts. It hurts, but it's hard to admit it, like having a blade to your own pumping heart and still lying about the wound. And.. I hate that you can still get me to act like a fool because I want to prove I'm not as weak as I used to be. But if only you could say it.

He seems surprised. Not that he looked like it, but his eye darted all over your face, taking in your frown, the curve of your lip that seemed so aggrieved for a princess, the look in your eyes that told him— this stray cat is hissing because it knows purring might harm it more.

You stood there in silence for far longer than it seemed as he drank up your eyes.

You stared up at him, wanting, waiting, expecting something other than a jab or a snarky comment. Expecting at least something subtle if not kind.

"So… you do hate it when I call you skinny?" He asked softly, that cashmere of his voice finally soothing you.

"No." You scoffed, not quite soft, but rather tired. Looking away, to the side, to nowhere, then back up to find his gaze. "I just-... I just expected for once that you wouldn't want to act better than me." You were literally baring yourself to him, not because you wanted to, especially on the first day of your arrival, but because... ugh, you don't even know why.

You just need him to understand.

Aemond continued staring at you, you catch the subtle push of his tongue at his cheek. Thinking? Contemplating? Plotting?

"I'm not trying to act better than you." He replied, tone still soft, but you heard it— he was. He always was. You both knew he tried to do that. He DID that. But you let it slip just because you knew there was no way to drain a proper apology. Not from of him.

"Then what?" You asked, softening as well, gaze still on his, anger cooling down the more you stood in that corridor, in front of him.

He sighed, his eye moving to the side. He appeared to be struggling with this. Uncertain?

"I just like getting a reaction out of you." Admission, at least something.

"Why..."

For some bloody reason, you let him have as much time as he needed to hold this conversation. And you waited alot as his eye occasionally skimmed over your face, searching his words in your burdened lines.

"Because, it's easy to get you mad."

You pursed your lips, trying to see if there's more under what hes letting on, but you found less than you hoped for. "Youre awful if that brings you happiness." You sigh, not accusing him of it, but ushering awarness that hurting someone shouldn't be a way to feel better about yourself.

Aemond didn't respond right away, eye shifting back to the side. "I never wanted to hurt you." Jaw set thight, brows creased in... guilt?

You just looked at him for a while. And somehow... those words made you realize that you don't want to blame him for all the awful ways you felt after those insults. Hells, you believed him.

After all, you weren't exactly kind either, going against a boy your whole childhood instead of having those stupid tea picnics. It's not your fault your father was your only muse.

You both stay quiet for a moment, just looking at each other as you started to see more than someone to get upset at, as he started to see more than someone to make upset. After all... neither of you were made out of stone.

"You know," He said gently after a beat. "there's something I want to try."

"Flatter me?" You murmur, lips gaining a subtle teasing curve. Softer, but it was still a jab. Not wishing to find out what he truly had in mind...

He scoffed, attempting to hide the effect that subtle playfulness was having on him. It was still there, the desire to retort with a sarcastic comment, and, yet, he was fighting it down. He had his share of teasing you already.

"You wish." The corner of his lip twitched.

You smiled up at him, feeling oddly lighter on your feet, in your lungs. "Im going to unpack now." You announced and gave him a look, as if to say 'here come the worst few moons of your life, and all because on me'.

Aemond smirked slightly at your attitude, his eye following your departing steps. You'll be stuck with each other for a while.

And maybe this time... neither of you will mind it.

—

[moodymisty]

Hello! I would like to put in a request for a fic about this scenario mentioned in the ‘Sugar Daddy Horus’ fic:

“The latest time was when he'd offered you his cloak during a cold chill, and the way the thick fabric had swallowed your form while you watched his Luna Wolves train had you underneath him getting your….”😏

With maybe just a little bit longer of an interaction between reader and Horus before the smut? If you feel up to it ^^( I like the way you write him talking to her). Either way I love your writing and I hope you have a nice day!

Author's note: Ough. Horus. I love this man he's a nuclear bomb but in a way that is so good. I'm a moth to his flame. I apologize for any roughness, I've been banging my head on this for ages just feeling like something was off but I couldn't fix it, so I just want it to be done and move on XD So editing on this was minimal, I hope people enjoy anyhow. Relationships: Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW, Horus' vaguely possessive behavior, One very brief implication to a breeding kink/pregnancy thing, Creampies, Size difference

The sound of metal clashing against metal was loud enough to almost hurt your ears, forcing you to back up until it was at a more comfortable level. The astartes didn't pay much attention to it other than the ones not fighting, curiously taking glances at you.

Their genefather's lover was still a somewhat new and interesting thing to them; The idea of pursuing other interests. They hadn't really considered the idea, nor did they see much see value in it.

While watching their training your clothes blew in the harsh wind, whipping around no matter how hard you tried to hold them down. The layers kept annoying you, unable to stay down as the chill pierced right through them. Your teeth kept clattering and no matter how tightly you wrapped around yourself, it still felt like you were half freezing to death. There wasn't even snow, how it feel this cold baffled you.

"Cold, my love?"

Horus approaches from behind after finishing a somewhat private conversation with his Mournival. Turning to look up at him causes some of your hair to blow into and block your face, and he seems to smile bemusedly at it.

"This wind goes right through my clothes. I feel like a block of ice out here."

He watches as you tighten the grip on your coat, wrapping it tighter around yourself. Luna Wolves shout and yip as they brawl, providing an odd background noise to your gentle conversation. You're quite used to the astartes now, they're straightforward and blunt, easy to read. They can still be unsettling, cold, but it's not completely unfamiliar now.

Horus had been a bit apprehensive to have you around them at all, but you've adjusted just fine.

"Is this you asking for another cloak?"

The look of your wind-whipped face makes him struggle not to mock you, you can tell; You're so small and easily inconvenienced. Perhaps it was your fault that you hadn't expected the planet to get this cold, but it hadn't seem the type. Now you're deeply regretting not bringing more.

"I don't think I can add anymore layers without struggling to walk around, and I already have enough trouble keeping up."

Horus gives a chuckle before reaching up, fingers deftly undoing with the latch of his cloak before kneeling just a tad to throw it over your own shoulders. It's massive and heavy, enough so to act like a complete wall to the wind and quickly you feel the chill begin to melt away. It traps your own body heat against you, forming a warm little pocket as your body is near completely swallowed by the oversized pelt. The fur tickles the exposed skin of your jaw and cheeks.

"Better?"

Horus has a significant amount of meat on his bones, you doubt he feels cold without it; If he does, he doesn't show even the slightest sign of discomfort.

"Much. It's so warm..."

You pull the edges of it closer, looking down at the way the edges of the pelt flow across the floor. You hear the deep rumble of your Lord chuckling at you.

His eyes on you are quite heavy, you notice. He lingers and eventually you quickly get overwhelmed, looking back to his men. You can still feel his eyes on you, though. It's not much longer before he acts on whatever he was thinking. He lifts you up, holding you so you're perched sitting on his forearm with your hands gripping his shoulder. His pelt still wraps snugly around you.

"It would be unfortunate if you were to freeze to death right in front of me." He says it with mirth and you give a somewhat bashful smile, snuggling deeper into his cloak. It's nice to have all the chill be melted away.

"It's so soft and warm. I could live in this forever."

You feel comfortable in his arms. His body radiates warmth and you feel safe up with him. You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth quickly.

"Thank you for your generosity, my Lord."

Horus' brown eyes watch you, eyebrows slightly raised. He doesn't mind chaste displays of affection from you; If anything, it seems as if he almost enjoys to brag about the object of his affections. His new lover continues to be a way for him to display the sizable nature of his warchest, and someone to lavish with every thing he finds beautiful.

"Laying on the charm, are you?" Horus smiles wider when he sees he got under your skin, huffing at him.

"Oh Terra forbid I thank you for something."

He laughs and your body shakes, and you notice his eyes briefly glance over your entirety.

"Easy, little one. My mens' anger is rubbing off on you."

Horus has many pet names for you, a behavior you hadn't expected from a man as astute as him; Little one is perhaps his favorite.

His other hand reaches up and tugs the frayed edge of his cloak away from your huddled face, enough to brush against your cheek. You lean into it ever so slightly, before he drops his hand to his side and turns around with you in his arms.

No longer interested in the training practice his men are currently engaged in, Horus passes by one of his Mournival as he walks away with you in tow.

"Keep things in line for now. I need a moment."

Loken- you vaguely remember the name after searing them all into your own brain- gives his genefather an odd look, but Horus pushes past him faster than the astartes can say anything in response. Affirmation or otherwise.

You let Horus take you where ever he has in mind silently, and only when you realize he's headed to his quarters do you curiously ask why he's doing so in the middle of the day.

When he throws you onto the bed with a toss does the point get across to you, and pretty quickly; Your skirt accidentally lifts up a bit when you land on the plush mattress which makes Horus' next movements just a bit easier.

You fall back onto the bed, letting go of his cloak and laying on it. Horus pushes your legs up and apart, bunching up your dress and exposing your underwear for him to swiftly tear away.

"Horus..."

You softly mewl, surprised by his feral aptitude as you lay on his massive cloak. It'll smell like you for days now he's sure- even more so when he's done fucking you on it.

He wants to smell the scent of your body trying to convince him to mount you, to remember your body with more than one of his senses.

His fingers spread your thighs apart, watching the soft glistening of your cunt before he smothers it with his hand. Your face heats and twists when he slips a finger inside of you, Horus leaning over you to come close and press his heated lips against the skin of your neck.

A part of him does it to make it easier for you to take him; But you know a part of him enjoys it for the feeling of watching you writhe for him, of coming undone because of him and him alone. Even if you are just a baseline to him, to hear someone chant his name like a mantra strokes a part of him that your hands can't touch.

Your fingers knit through the fur of his cloak as it lies between you and the bed, keeping your body warm even if now you'd have no trouble with such a thing.

"You're going to mat my cloak with how wet you are,"

He jests, feeling the way you clench around his finger. He swiftly adds another, and the pain inches up your stomach at first with how he rushes before it fades away. You're used to his size enough that it doesn't hurt as bad as it used to, but he's still twice your size. Whenever he hurries, tries to push things along, there will still be a sting you have to contend with.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed, putting you at the just the right height to line you up with his hips. Normally he can't fuck you on your back, he's simply far too large, but now he can unlace his trousers and slap his cock against your cunt with a heavy hand.

It's heavy and hot, your back arches when he notches his cockhead against your entrance and starts to push inward until you yip as it pops past. He's so much bigger than you, even if the pain is less you always feel the echo of him for hours if not days after- if he's particularly rough with you. A side effect of him forcing something unnatural, you suppose.

"They're all going to smell you on it." Your hips ache as he folds you, cock nudging parts inside you deep enough to make your body quake as his balls slap against your ass. "You love that though, I know you do. The Lady Lupercal enjoys being lavished by her primarch."

You do, it's all Horus ever wants you to do. To be lavished in his finery and small and cute; Perhaps give him a child or two, one day.

The expanse of his hips hits against your thighs as he drives himself into you, your stomach twisting in knots. The uncomfortable feeling of overfullness fades quickly now, but there's always a twinge of something- like he's treading the line of what would end up being too rough for you.

"Horus..."

You never are filled with honeyed words like he is, that primal part of your brain tends to take over and reduce you to a muttering of sounds and his name. Not that he minds, continuing to fuck you as you feel the heavy weight of his balls against your ass. His hands push down on the bed on either side of you, caging you beneath a Primach's gargantuan mass.

Your fingers weave into the fur you lay on, and it rubs against your skin so soft. He leans back for just a moment to take it all in, before caging you once more. He grabs one of your shoulders to keep you in place as he ruts into you harder, chasing his end as you whimper and cum around him. He hisses deep in his chest at the feeling, forced to slow a bit as your thighs temble. When he does renew his assault in new force, it isn't long before you feel the weight and heat of him finishing inside of you, and the heavy weight of his groan in your chest.

When the head of his cock pops out past your entrance you can feel the aching emptiness, and the feeling of his own cum leaking from you. He always had a ridiculous amount of it, in comparison to a baseline man.

Your heart hammers against your chest like it's attempting to escape, but it settles; Eventually.

"Do you need a moment?" Horus jokes, watching you bask in the aftermath.

"I need more than a moment, I think." His eyes are dark, they always are. He steals a single kiss from you before taking his knee off the bed and letting it rise up significantly without his weight crushing it.

"Take as much rest as you need. I must go check on my men for a moment." He stands fully upright, briefly stretching a bit to the side to adjust his back after so long leaned over.

"I will be back soon."

[kisses-in-the-void]

I imagine that after being cast into the Void, Melkor’s mind constantly wavered between longing to reunite with Mairon and wishing "to watch" him wreck the fuck out of Middle-earth.

(Because I have a headcanon that Melkor was still somehow aware of what was happening in Arda. Since he poured so much of his own power into the world - making Arda "Morgoth’s Ring" - and maybe that connection left some side effect)

Perhaps he could still feel what was unfolding there. Maybe he even cheered Mairon on, laughing when he "saw" his husband rising as the new Enemy of Elves, Men, and all the other races.

Beyond thinking of it as rightful revenge - the Valar might have defeated him, but another Dark Lord took his place - Melkor might’ve found comfort in the belief that Mairon was doing it all in his name.

But as time passed, and the Void gnawed at his mind with its silence and nothingness, that comfort might have curdled. He would have "seen" not only Mairon’s triumphs, but also his failures. And maybe, eventually, he realized that none of it truly mattered. That all the conquests and vengeance meant little in the face of his endless isolation.

By then, all Melkor wanted was to be reunited with the one he loved. So when the Ring was destroyed and Mairon finally joined him in the Void, maybe Melkor wasn’t even angry that their enemies had won. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed, not even a little, not like Mairon had expected.

He didn’t want to listen when his former lieutenant reached out to him - the thoughts brushing against his own, trying to explain how it had happened, steeped in shame and bracing for scorn.

Because none of it mattered anymore. After millennia of silence, he was no longer alone. The one whom he loved most in all of Arda - and beyond it - was finally at his side again.

The Void wasn’t where he had ever dreamed or wished for them to end up - but now that it had happened, Melkor might as well use this chance to simply be with Mairon, when their minds were free of anything or anyone else but each other.

[interclover]

(NO SPOILERS PLEASE) Behold! My tpot 19 bingo, filled with my predictions! I'll go over some of them in detail under the cut :p

My elimination predictions are grassy and tennis ball, due to them having less screentime than their teammates. Besides, on TB's case, his team is filled with other popular contestants, whom we didn't get much screentime of in previous seasons. Sadly, I think tb's the most likely to go, since he still has bfdia 😔 hopefully I'm wrong

I do think the bfb contestants are going to appear... dunno how, but they can't just. Make an entire episode dedicated towards them and say "it's going to lead to tpot 19!" Maybe they just make a small cameo when x goes to check out what's going on with Taco, idk

The merge!!! A team will be hitting 3 members, and it seems to me a bit unfair to keep competing with just. 3 people. So yeah.

It's gonna be the end of the world (tpot 15) all over again. This leads up to my following point:

The world's fate will rest on Pencil's shoulders. One has basically set up the latest TPOT episodes to just get her to sign a deal: she's lost everyone, she's forced to co-exist with the creature that made her lose many years of her life, and she doesn't wanna lose over him this time; which causes her team to dislike her for her actions. I do think she'll get some development, after the scene with pen in tpot 17: maybe she'll thank Donut for being there for her, or she'll start to get along more with the rest of cloudyay. Despite that, I can see the deal going both ways: she might agree to it if it means having freesmart back (bc there's no way she's willing to give them up so easily for the despairing situation she's in rn) or she might decline, taking into consideration Pen's words. It's a tricky yet interesting scenario... I'm looking forward to it.

Two will have to get out of bed if they want to protect the cast. I think all of the contestants (including the eliminated ones, who will most likely break out of the elimination space given their lack of energy to keep it shut for much longer) will try to cheer them up, in a similar way Gelatin did with Four. They'll remind them that they have to fight if they don't want to keep losing more people, and, that if they want to get Gaty back, everyone will have to do their bit - including Two themself.

While I believe it's a bit early in the season to pit Two and One against each other, a sacrifice will be needed to quell the rift. I doubt One will want to approach a target other than Pencil (who she believes is practically guaranteed) to sign her deal, given the altered state she's in. She doesn't have the patience to keep up her cool and calculated facade for much longer. Therefore, there has to be another way to close the rift (then again, it's still too early in the season to let everyone. Die. And put the task of saving the world in idk the equation playground gang), and I think it'll be through a sacrifice. Perhaps black hole could try to absorb all of the rift's energy, or pencil will trade her life for closing the rift. Or maybe it could even be Pin/Tree's token! Who knows. That's why tpot 19 will be scary as fuck.

Either way, they can't keep going with the secret of the token for much longer. It's bound to be revealed in this episode.

In my opinion, we'll be getting some algebralien lore. Whether it is how Six was able to find the equation playground gang, or One's backstory, we will be getting some explanations on what happened to them.

I feel like Donut will talk about One with Fanny, GB and TB. I don't think he'll be careless enough to spill the tea to everyone, so he'll choose the most appropriate people to talk to about his experiences. After all, he's not bound by One's deal.

I FORGOT TO PUT IT HERE BUT WE MIGHT KNOW WHAT THE DEALS ENTAIL,,, it seems like an appropriate moment to find out! With the end of the world, one failed deal and whatever :p

I don't think we'll see leafy. Rather than that, firey n 8ball will make their way to the hotel. Maybe, they'll find everyone there, and vow to take down One to find out the whereabouts of all the kidnapped contestants.

Yeah, I do think One will reveal herself to the larger cast. She's not in the right mindset to keep herself in the shadows any longer. I'm sure she'll make her presence known this episode.

That's all!!! Yapping over :3 I'd love to hear your thoughts as well,,, IM SUPER SCARED AAAJAUSHDJJS PLEASE LET MY GIRL BOOK BE SAFE. TAGGY AND TB AS WELL I LOVE THEM :(

[frumpkingoesfurrst]

Thinking about a Madhel soulmate AU (not necessarily romantic) and kinda going feral.

Death mark AU-have the way your soulmate will die symbolised on your body (perhaps tattoos, perhaps scars, lil symbols idk)

Helen always wearing turtlenecks to hide her phantom neck scars. (Madeline figuring her soulmates probably in combat from the shotgun wound. maybe she goes after soldiers to date? maybe she avoids them?)

Even juicier, if they know about the others soulmate mark and still kill each other like in canon. (Maybe helen plans to kill madeline with a sleeping pill and drowning cause she knows deep down it won’t work or maybe to prove the little voice in her ear that keeps saying she obsesses over Mad a little too much wrong). Would Madeline figure out about Helen immediately after she dies? Is her choice to shoot helen hers or fates? dbsbvagdjsjbq

Maybe it’s unrequited soulmatism in that maybe Helen is Ernest’s soulmate or neither of the ladies or maybe Helen and Mad aren’t even soulmates and choose each other anyway?! the possibilities (0.0)

The theming of only finding each other after death, after the pressure to compete and be societally perfect is gone, after the pressure to Succeed before time is up is no longer relevant is present strongly in DBH and i think could be explored through a medium like this. If i was a writer, I will absolutely write this but alas :/ so if anyone wants to yap please i am all ears.

[saetr]

For @phantomchick and @candycarmelle who requested anti Alfred Pennyworth. I hope you both enjoy. Thank you for the prompt!

Jason doesn’t want to be here.

He swore to himself that he was done with the Wayne Manor, but someone had mistaken him for Willis the other day, and it reminded Jason that he does not remember what his parents looked like. Most of the pictures and memories have been destroyed, except for the couple that he took with him to the manor when he was adopted, and so he had decided to get them back.

The manor hasn’t changed much. Not outwardly, at least. Everything is still where it was from Jason's time here. Jason makes his way through the house quickly. He’s not here to stay. Just to pick up his memories and he'll be on his way. He timed his visit so everyone in the manor is either getting some post-patrol sleep in or out for the day. Hopefully, his luck will hold out and he won't have to deal with any of his so-called family.

The room that was his no longer exists, so Jason makes his way up the attic. He doesn't have to look long before he finds what was supposed to be his time at the manor in a box. There are no clothes, thank God. Just a few notebooks, journals and literature. He finds the photographs under the pile. Relieved, he grabs them and heads out. There will be time to examine the photographs once he is out of here.

He was almost at the door, when his luck ran out. Just at the foot of the staircase is Alfred Pennyworth, looking momentarily surprised to see Jason.

“Master Jason,” the man greets, a calm expression replacing the surprise. “I was not aware you would be by today. Master Bruce is not in at the moment.”

Jason shrugs, stopping when he gets to the foot of the staircase. “I'm not here for him. Picking some stuff I left behind from before.” He waves his package at Alfred. “You can tell him I was here.” Jason adds redundantly, knowing Alfred would be calling Bruce to tell him the moment he is out of Jason's sight.

Alfred doesn’t move. “You know, you could stay a while. Have dinner with the family, perhaps.”

“Aww Alfie,” Jason says, tone mocking. “You sure you want the dog eating with your fine china?”

Alfred looks scandalized at his words. “Master Jason—”

“Cut the shit, Alfred. We both know you don't want me here any more than I want to be here. No use pretending.”

The silence between them has weight. Alfred breaks it first. “You’ve grown… colder, since your return.”

Jason raises a brow, leaning a hip against the rail on the staircase. “Being murdered and coming back from death doesn't exactly make one warm.”

Alfred folds his hands behind his back in an all too familiar way. It's a move that precedes a scolding from the old butler. “Despite your choices, I’ve always considered you family.”

Jason snorts. “Family,” he echoes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Master Bruce never stopped hoping you would find your way back,” Alfred says, carefully. “That you will remember who you were before all this anger.”

Jason tilts his head slightly. “And who was I?” Alfred opens his mouth, but Jason cuts him off with a cold smile. “Because if word on the streets is correct, I was the angry, aggressive Robin, determined to get himself killed and finally succeeded. Or are you talking about the one who sullied your precious manor with my darkness and the stench of the gutters Bruce picked me up from? Or maybe you're simply talking about the good soldier? I could never tell, but I'd assumed that you, especially, would be glad to see the last of me since you got Bruce the nice upgrade.”

Alfred’s face tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. “You misunderstand—”

“I heard you.”

Alfred stills.

Jason’s voice is calm, detached. He has made his peace with never being a part of this family. It hurt, but he is over it. “I always knew you never liked me, that you wished Bruce would send me away like a little stray dog that followed him home, but to hear spit on everything I was, all that I worked hard to be and accomplish, to make your little pretender look better,” Jason's laugh is bitter. “That's low, Alfie, even for you.” He finishes, intentionally using the nickname he had used for the butler, before he realized what the man had thought of him.

Alfred doesn't say anything, simply staring at Jason like he had grown a second head. Which, not even then, considering this is Gotham.

“I bugged the comms years ago. Just never turned it off.” Jason shrugs. “Bad habit, I guess. Still like knowing who is holding the knives.”

Alfred’s voice is quiet when it comes. “That wasn’t meant to be cruel.”

“Of course not,” Jason rolls his eyes. “You meant to cuddle Bruce and protect his fragile ego. Who can blame you? Especially when you didn’t think I was listening. You thought Bruce's efforts were wasted on me. That I didn’t live up to the symbol. That I ruined what Robin represented.” He steps forward once, just near enough to let it sink in. “And you were the one who laid Tim’s suit out like I never existed when the smoke from the bomb hadn't even faded.”

“I was trying to help him,” Alfred says, stiffly. “Help Gotham. There was grief, yes, but also necessity—”

At that, Jason lifts a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t.” Jason feels hollowed out. He came here for his parents’ photograph, how did he find himself in this conversation? “Don’t try to wrap it in duty. You didn't want me here. You never did. You didn’t give Tim the suit because Gotham needed a Robin. You made it because you were relieved to have me gone and to have Bruce associating with who you considered the right type of people.”

Alfred says nothing to that. Not even a disagreement.

“That’s what I thought.” Jason nods. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he says. “I came to get what’s mine. That’s all.”

Alfred moves slightly, like he might say something else, but Jason’s already turning away.

At the door, Jason pauses, but doesn’t look back. “You guys don’t have to worry about me anymore, Alfred,” he says. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

And then he’s gone. Shutting the door on that part of his life for good.

[anneapocalypse]

It's kind of interesting that over time, pretty much all the Scions have stopped carrying aetherometers. Thancred and Y'shtola's Heavensward outfits both have them--which is especially noteworthy for Thancred, because it indicates that despite no longer being able to manipulate aether, he's still able to observe it. (Also suggesting that he was somehow able to acquire one while wandering in the Dravanian wilderness, as it's already on him when he saves our asses from the Warriors of Darkness. Maybe we're meant to think it's an older one scavenged from the old colony--it does have a different design than the ones all the Archons are wearing in ARR.) The twins I'm pretty sure never carry them again from Heavensward on. Lyse foregoes carrying one when she stops pretending to be an Archon, understandably.

The Scions in the First do not have aetherometers with their new outfits, as I'm pretty sure aetherometers don't exist in the First--either they were never invented there, or the technology has been lost since the Flood. (I think the only aetherometer we see in the First is G'raha's old one sitting in the Umbilicus when he's talking to Urianger in the Echo flashback.)

Regardless, none of them start carrying them again when they return to the Source. By Endwalker, I think the only Scion carrying an aetherometer is Krile, who doesn't get a new outfit design until Dawntrail.

It's tempting to draw a correlation between this and the decreasing importance of primals to the main plot, or perhaps our Archon characters setting aside some of their more Sharlayan habits... but honestly, that feels like a weak reading. It is actually pretty weird that almost nobody is carrying aetherometers in Endwalker considering how large a role aetherological phenomena play in the story. Instead the writing leans on Y'shtola's ability to sense aether and deliver exposition (without, of course, exploring any aspect of disability beyond her perfect magical compensation for it).

I get that the real reason for it is probably that nobody wanted to bother altering the Scions' costumes to include them after they returned to the Source, but it's a small frustration to me in terms of storytelling nonetheless.

[vampimich]

Orphans in Krat and the PD

----- LIES OF P - SPOILERS -----

Maybe I’m just touching on a topic that might seem obvious, but I don’t think I made the connection right away during my first runs of Lies of P.

It wasn’t until the DLC, and seeing the full extent of what the Alchemists were doing, that I started to connect the dots between the high number of orphans in Krat and the outbreak of the Petrification Disease.

From the context Gemini gives us about the Malum District, we know that Krat began as a relatively poor fishing city.

Of course, there were the old, wealthy families, but the majority of people were just trying to survive day by day.

I’m sure orphans existed back then too, but I imagine most children were involved in their families' businesses, fishing, gathering resources, and so on, rather than being completely without family.

But once the Alchemists came, discovered Ergo, and decided to exploit it, that’s when things took a dark turn.

They needed workers for the Kroud mines to extract Ergo, so while they technically "created jobs," it came at the cost of people exposing the workers to Petrification Disease.

Eventually, with the development of puppets, the miners were partially replaced by puppet labor. But as the “spider cave puppet” incident shows us, human miners were still working alongside the puppets.

From Sophia’s dialogue, we know the Alchemists were the ones who spread the Petrification Disease, and the infected mine workers were likely just the beginning.

The Alchemists saw this happening and still used it to their advantage. They got all the experimental subjects they wanted. And because people needed work, and didn’t understand the source of the disease, they kept working in those deadly environments.

I think this is when Krat saw its first wave of mass orphanhood.

Heck, maybe that’s even why the Monad Charity House was founded in the first place.

I know this might be a stretch, we don’t know much about Isabelle’s past, whether she came from wealth (with Valentinus taking her surname), or if she was just another citizen of Krat whom Valentinus got close to in order to study Ergo (since she’s a Listener), and then later genuinely fell in love with her, ultimately trying to protect her from the horrors the Alchemists had planned for the citizens and for Listeners.

But if the Monad Charity House was founded during their generation, it could easily be a direct consequence of what Valentinus (knowingly or not) was helping to unleash.

And even if it wasn’t, even if the Rose Estate had always served as a charity house, I feel confident that Valentinus funded it significantly.

Isabelle likely didn’t know the full extent of what was going on. She probably just saw the pain, the parentless children, and wanted to help. Meanwhile, Valentinus may have supported her efforts, both out of love and as a way of atoning for his own involvement. Their parents had succumbed to the PD, but perhaps the children didn’t have to.

Unfortunately, things only got worse.

The victims were no longer just mine workers. The Alchemists studied the disease and twisted it into what they saw as their path to “evolution.” And once they made that decision, there was no turning back.

They started spreading the disease on purpose to the rest of the population, just to get more test subjects. They reaped all the benefits for themselves, and in doing so, created more and more orphans… possibly the second most notable thing Krat is known for, after its puppet technology.

So, I just wanted to say, in my eyes, the reason Krat had so many broken families and so many vulnerable children is, once again, all thanks to the horrors caused by the Alchemists. Screw those guys.

[meo-eiru]

Hi Meru! I'm really new to this and I've kinda became obsessed with your characters in like.... less then 24 hours. And, as crazy as this sounds, in those 24 hours, I had a thought, a passion, and surprisingly the time to do it all. My thought was what would your characters be like if they were in DND... I might've gone overboard with intros to how the character's join the party. Give me a little longer and I'll send over the other boys, I just wanted to start with my favorite of your characters, Dana. Here he is

Part 1 of DND AU:

Revenge. It was the only thing fueling her. The reason she scraped her way back from death's grasp. Of course with her trusted maidーor was it butler now? And did she really trust him?ー's help. But as she regained her strength, she swore to the gods that she will have her revenge.

Perhaps that's why Dana stayed. Even after having revealed himself as a man to his little darling noble. He understood that level of hatred. He once, maybe even still, felt that for her.

While his goal of seeing her suffer was completed, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He wanted to see that overwhelming hatred put to use. If revealing himself was the cost, he was willing to pay it. He'd even go far as becoming her faithful shadow. A rouge maid for the vengeful lady.

It took much convincing, but she had to give in, after all, wherever she went, Dana always followed. He couldn't let her go before, so why should she be able to escape now? That's his Darling. And he'll prove it with every kill he makes to her name.

Onto the next place the party goes...

P.S. SORRY THIS ISN'T A QUESTION BUT RATHER A LONG ASS THINGY!!

OMG I LOVE THIS!!

One of my dreams is to find enough players for a DND party and everyone will play as one of the guys in the cast, just imagine the chaos. Lavi, Silas and Ciaran are already like DND characters but imagining ones like Micah or Elias is also extremely fun, the possibilities are endless!

I can't wait to see what you have for the others I already love how this is going

[tales-from-hyrule]

Great Busts and Nonplussed Fairy Dust

PART IV

The dust cloud fell upon them as a cat upon its prey, leaping hundreds of feet into the air from its strange origins, then splitting into three swirling cascades as it plunged back down. Cironus’ yelp of surprise slipped into coughing and sputtering as the plume smashed into him, great rolling gusts of the stuff crashing into the beach and kicking sand and grit into the air. Sardon and Fat Fin were no better; while he couldn’t see either of them, Cironus could hear at least one of them smashing into the sand themselves.

“AUGH–Bro! Dad–what–”

Cries for Sardon and Fat Fin went unnoticed in the magical haze - at least, so far as he could tell. Cironus was, after all, suddenly distracted from listening for them as a sudden bout of vertigo slammed into him. It felt as if someone had grabbed the back of his head and lifted partly into the sky - or, perhaps, that said back of his head no longer seemed to exist.  In its place was some strange, airy void: indeed, when he tried to turn his head to check behind him, his neck brutally overcompensated, snapping his head about far more than intended and causing him to fight a wave of nausea. Cironus shut his eyes, grimacing against the roiling in his gut: if the rest of his family was going through half of what was going on, it was all too clear why at least one of them had fallen over.

Crouching low, Cironus shuffled through the blinding cloud and choking dust, kicking up sand as he tried to find the other two by feel. A sudden impact and a pained “OOF” stopped him in his tracks; his foot had made contact with someone’s fleshy middle, and they were pawing at the air, trying to grab whatever had just hit them.

“Sardon?”

“Cir?”

Cironus scrabbled at the sand, still half-blinded by the cloud, and grabbed his brother by the forearm. Something scrabbled at the back of his mind as he struggled to pull his larger sibling upright: his brother’s skin didn’t feel right. It didn’t have that slick rubber-like texture he usually associated with his family, nor did it have the appropriate suppleness as he tightened his grip around it. Cironus could actually feel bone beneath his brother’s wrists, a thought that was a shock to him: while it still had plenty of muscle surrounding it, there was usually so much meat encased around it that one would have to grasp fairly hard to feel anything like that. In a brief flash of irrationality, Cironus thought he’d somehow grabbed a gibdo that had stumbled a hundred leagues east of the desert, and he immediately let go.

“OW! Cironus, what the HECK–”

“Sorry!”

Still blinking silt and grit from his eyes, Cironus grabbed at his brother again, this time grabbing him under the armpits and yanking him upward. He grimaced at the texture, making a note to beg his brother to take a swim and clear whatever that was out from underneath - and the moment his brother found purchase, he let go of him to call out again.

“Dad?!”

“DAD!”

“Dad, where are you?”

“I’m right HERE.”

“Oh.”

“...Though I can’t see worth a damn in this cloud. Son - can’t you, I don’t know, play something to blow this shit away?”

“I…yeah? Maybe? Hang on–”

None of them had moved too far from where he’d been standing previously, so it didn’t take long for Cironus to find his guitar. For some reason, though, it felt strange in his hands - like he had somehow picked up an instrument a size and a half bigger than it should have been. Cironus shook his head, trying to clear the confusion from his head (it had to be the surreality of the situation at hand, right?) and worked the frets. The muscle memory took over, thankfully, and some degree of agency felt like it returned to Cironus as he warmed up a few practice licks. A moment later, a power chord blasted out from Cironus’ guitar, and sand, dust, and grit whipped away, rolling over the shoreline’s water almost as though looking for new prey to hunt.

“Good goin’, kid.” Fat Fin nodded appreciatively at Cironus, even if none of them could see it. To his brother, he said, “Sardon, point me at the water. I think that dust devil emptied half the beach in my eye.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was Sardon’s turn to blink in surprise as he wrapped his arm around his father’s torso to guide him seaward. He still couldn’t see worth a damn, but–

“Cripes, Dad, did someone tape a carpet onto your back? You feel like you’re covered in hair–”

His snark earned him a seaward plunge of his own.

========

Danmalaak sauntered over the beach’s lip, feeling even lighter than he normally did. Sardon had done the right thing, there, turning him loose like that; zooming over the countryside had helped him expend a ton of energy that had built up as he’d come back to shore. HIs brain no longer flying high in the clouds, he looked forward to getting a proper fish fry going on with that marlin. Sure, fish weren’t necessarily his thing, being the resident rock-biter in their group, but there was just that certain something that fish drippings added to a chunk of salt that set off all the happy signals in his belly. Plus, Fat Fin had complimented his cooking, so clearly he had some idea what he was doing!

As he reached the campsite, however, Danmalaak was surprised to see his friends gone and the fire put out. Everything was covered in a fine layer of sand, in fact; it was as if the entire campsite had been neglected for a solid day or two.

“I haven’t been gone that long, have I?” he murmured to himself. “...No, that can’t be right.”

So where were his friends?

Danmalaak’s thoughts were interrupted as something erupted from the waters: a massive figure, tall and broad, with great tan shoulders rolling as they came out of the sea. Water arced into the sky as the figure’s head whipped back, trailing in a great circle as it launched from its great, roping locks. 

“PHEW!” cried the figure, wiping the water from his eyes as he stood and turned around. “Can finally see again. Oh hey, Dan, back already?”

Danmalaak blinked.

“Uh, yeah, but–”

He was interrupted as another pair of figures erupted from the water: equally graceful, both slightly taller and even wider than the first. The way the water arced off their hair was uncannily identical, and Danmalaak was struck dumb the sheer synchronicity in which they moved.

“Phew. Can finally see again,” they both said, slightly out of step with one another as they turned in opposite directions.

“Hey Dan.”

“Danmalaak.”

“Uh…hi?”

“What’s up, Dannum?” asked the first, concern starting to creep onto his face. “You look like you’ve seen a poe.”

“Oh, uh, it’s…not that?” said Danmalaak. “It’s just, uh…”

“Probably wondering why we’re in the water,” said the tallest one.

“I mean, it’s us. Can’t be that surprised.”

Danmalaak gave a nervous cough.

“You’re, uh…naked.”

The tallest one looked at the goron like he’d grown another head, which was fair given that the goron was giving them the exact same look.

“...Danmalaak. Look at me,” he said, gesturing at his (admittedly glorious) chest. “Have you ever seen me wear anything.”

“Yeah,” said the one who’d come out of the water with him. “And you’re one to talk!”

“I’m wearing swim trunks!”

“Yeah, and you’re like the only one who does that! Every goron I’ve ever seen goes rolling around naked–”

“No they don’t,” said the first, “they wear those little loincloths–”

“FOCUS!” yelled Danmalaak. “WHY ARE YOU NAKED?! YOU’RE HYLIAN!”

There was a pause as all three of them stared at Danmalaak.

“None of those words make any sense–” ventured the middle one.

“MMMMMMM!”

Flabbergasted beyond all capacity of speech, the goron pointed at the three of them, crossing and uncrossing his arms wildly. They stared at him for a moment, completely unable to guess at his meaning…then slowly turned their heads towards one another…

…and saw zero zorca but three tall, heavyset and extremely naked Hylians between the three of them.

There was a momentary pause. Then–

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

“...”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

==========

“They just had to be loincloths, didn’t they.”

Sardon stared sourly into the fire. The three zorca humans were warming themselves around a newly-furnished campfire, unpleasantly reminded of the lack of proper zorca blubber to keep themselves warm. True to Sardon’s moping, they were no longer naked; their extremities were now carefully tucked away behind the finest of Eldin goron finery.

“They’re mawashis,” Danmalaak said, stoking the fire, “and you’re lucky I had them. You’re not exactly my size.”

“True,” said Cironus, idly yanking at the side of his own in a futile attempt to get some more give. “Can you imagine one of us trying to stick our thighs in one of his swimtrunks?”

“It’s riding up my ass,” said Fat Fin.

“That’s why I wear the trunks.”

“Yeah?

Fin eyed the goron. Danmalaak, in turn, glanced at him.

“Well, that and I wouldn’t be caught dead in those.”

The look Fin gave him was priceless.

“I mean…they were spares!” he continued, defending himself (if only after a brief shit-eating grin). ”Honestly, I’m surprised I still had ‘em in my pack to begin with. It’s not like I had my entire wardrobe on me when my boat sank, you know? Heck, I think I grabbed those off the back shelf of some Eldin caravan in case these–” he flicked the band on his own shorts– “ever gave out.”

“So we’re wearing your back-up undies?” asked Sardon.

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible!” Danmalaak said. “...aaaand technically, you’re wearing the backup to my backups. Cironus is wearing the backups. Fat Fin’s wearing…well, my fat pants.”

Fat Fin shrugged. “Not fat enough.”

“Mind your business, Fin! And–look, let’s get back to the crux of the matter,” shot back Danmalaak, increasingly less willing to discuss his own personal undergarment hierarchy. “How in Hylia did you end up, well, Hylians?!”

“I mean, that’s the thing,” said Sardon. “We don’t know.”

“Yeah,” said Cironus. “One minute, we’re watching you burn off the excess energy from my song, the next…” He picked up a handful of sand from beside him and blew it towards the fire.

“Right, the, uh, magic cloud,” said Danmalaak. “You didn’t see where it came from?”

“Well, it wasn’t coming from your direction…so, there’s that?”

“Yeah,” said Sardon. “It wasn’t like we were looking in any other direction. And when the cloud hit, we couldn’t see anything until Cir played it off.”

“Nice,” said Fat Fin, offering his son a fist. He pounded it.

“Guys!” yelled Cironus. “FOCUS!”

“Yes, please!” said Danmalaak. “Magic cloud. Hit from nowhere. Blinded you. And you didn’t even notice you were human ‘till I pointed it out?”

“Well, it was hard to see–”

“I’m just keeping the facts straight,” he cut in. “The fact you didn’t notice is weird, yeah - but not because you’re, I dunno, unobservant, it’s because you guys are like half your height, lost your head…piece…things?”

“Tail fins?” ventured Fat Fin.

“You know what I mean. And it was like so second nature you didn’t even notice it. Like, I know there are some transformation spells out there? But the ones I’ve usually heard about are on the ‘OH DIN MY LIMBS ARE RIPPING THEMSELVES IN TWO’ side of effects, right? Like, you would notice being compacted into, well, half your height.”

“Hey, that’s right!” said Cironus. “Like, I felt really lightheaded when it happened? But I thought it was because I couldn't see anything.”

“Yeah, some serious vertigo,” agreed Sardon, rubbing the back of his head, grimacing at the hair sticking out where his massive mantle used to be. “That, and feeling really cold all of a sudden.”

“Lack of insulation, son,” said Fin, slapping his own middle. “Gotta eat up, get it back on.”

“Or, you know, wear a shirt,” muttered Danmalaak.

“Nah.”

“Anyways. My guess? You three got hit with a blast of fairy dust. You only need a pinch, it acts fast, and the effects are pretty random.”

“...and temporary, I hope?” asked Sardon.

Danmalaak paused. “I…don’t know?” he replied. “I mean…if it were just temporary, I’d imagine it’d wash off, and, well, seeing as I first found you guys in the water…”

There was a long, unpleasant pause as the four of them considered the ramifications.

“...Guys? I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a Hylian,” said Sardon. 

“Me neither,” said Cironus.  “Things were bad enough as is. I don’t need this on top of it.”

“Like, can you imagine trying to fit in with the other Hylians?”

“Heck, how‘ll you explain this to the rest of the pod?!”

Sardon gasped. 

“Oh NO!” he exclaimed. “What am I going to say to Sona?! She can’t see me like this–not when I’m like half her size!”

“You always were half her size.”

“Not the point! Do you even think she’d go for a smaller guy?!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Fin - who was gazing into the fire, a grin playing on his lips as he spread his arms wide. “I, for one, can’t wait to dip your mom with these things.”

“DAD!”

“What, you’re telling me you’ve never wanted to be the little spoon?”

“DAD!”

Danmalaak closed his eyes. The conversation was quickly spiraling away from him, a theme that was rapidly becoming the norm with anything involving these three. No wonder their matriarchs are in charge, he thought. One brain between the three of them.

“Is. There. A great fairy. Nearby?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Huh?”

“A great fairy,” he repeated. “Or even just a regular one? Someone you could, I don’t know, consult with. I mean, the operative word here is fairy dust. If that’s what we’re working with, they’d be the ones to talk to, right?”

Danmalaak had to admit, he was speaking faster than his own brain would allow. He was still a little uncertain of his conclusions, after all. His information on the subject was secondhand, coming as it did from the trade caravans he’d met on his travels, so it was all hypothetical to him. So far as he knew, there weren’t any Great Fairies out in the Alae islands he considered home. As he understood it, they loved receiving tributes of rupees from their adoring followers, and while Alae had a bustling port, nobody outside the local gorons stayed long enough to develop that kind of attachment. 

Still, it was the best theory they had, and if it kept Sardon and Cironus moving, it might keep them from despairing about their current predicament. At the very least, a Great Fairy would have some idea how to get them back to their old bodies, right?

“...You know what?” said Cironus, scratching his forehead and interrupting Danmalaak’s thoughts. “Now that you mention it, I’m fairly sure there’s a Great Fairy just north of us!”

“Oh! Really?”

“Yeah! Gimme a sec while I look over the map–”

The zorca-turned-human reached into his pack, once more trying to shake off the unsettling feeling of everything just feeling bigger than usual, and spread out the map of Hyrule he’d copied from Link before parting ways. Tracking his finger along the peninsula, he found Rimba beach, dismissed some intrusive thoughts relitigating whether it was shaped like a foot or a knife, and traced a few routes leading north until he found what he was looking for.

“There she is!” he exclaimed, planting a finger on the mark. “Great Fairy Cotera. Okay, my bad, her fountain’s northwest of here - but hey! It shouldn’t take more than a few days’ walk to get there!”

“Well, then!” said Danmalaak with a clap. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan - head up to this…Cotera, you said?”

“Yeah!”

“--and ask her to turn you back! Sound like a plan?”

He looked expectantly at Sardon and Fat Fin, both of whom nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” said Sardon, rubbing one of his shoulders as he stood up. “I miss my frills, you know?” Feels…I don’t know, weird not having something to wick the water off here.”

“Get used to it,” his father said. “‘Till we find that fairy, that’s the body you’re stuck with.”

“All the more reason to find her, and fast.”

“...Uh, speaking of - you guys don’t mind if we stop by Lurelin for some pants, would you?” asked Cironus, hefting the tuna (which, even as a dead marlin, had not escaped the magic cloud’s curse) over his shoulders. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m feeling really self-conscious just wearing the loincloth.”

Sardon smirked.

“It’s ‘cause your bits stick out now.”

“SARDON!”

Meanwhile...

[youllneverfindmona]

Choso x Black reader. I don’t feel like putting tags/ mentions but Minors DNI!!

The atmosphere was cloudy, reeking of the aroma of vapes and marijuana. Colorful lights flashed everywhere while the area itself was dimly lit, and yet he still spotted you practically as soon as he walked in.

“Gosh, how could she have gotten even more gorgeous?” He whispers to himself in awe as he stares at you from afar. The first thing he noticed was your lashes. Not too much, but just enough to accentuate the shape of your eyes.

A mini skirt that was nearly a little too short, and a button-up top that was unbuttoned at the top to show the subtlest bit of cleavage. Something he surely wouldn’t have approved of then.

He had to have been dreaming, but no matter how many times he blinked his eyes saw the same. He saw a photo of you a couple of months ago that your mom had sent, but it did you no justice.

Has that much changed in over a year? Even your hair was straightened aside from the normal protective styles you often did and you looked amazing. Certainly wasn’t the girl he was used to seeing. He honestly didn’t know how much he missed you until he saw you again.

Then a sudden realization hit. He thought to himself, Why is she here? You loathed being high and weren’t much of a drinker either. Perhaps things had changed since then. He watched as you sat alongside your friends as they danced with a cup in your hand.

Still timid, but it seems like you’re growing out of it. Still, this isn’t really your type of place and he knew that. He tried to brush it off and turned back to the group he came with. After all, the two of you had been done for over a year now, it’s stamped. She’s probably with someone else he told himself. You weren’t his problem anymore.

On the flip side, you were naive to the fact that he had even came back in town let alone had ended up at the same party as you. He moved over a year ago which the distance combined with previous issues ultimately led to the two of you splitting.

You had constantly made an effort to just get on with your life, but no matter who you came across something just wasn’t right. You figured maybe you were better alone and accepted it, but deep down inside you knew your heart was yearning for someone that was no longer yours.

You didn’t wish to see him anytime soon and hoped that one day that empty feeling would just go away at some point.

After a few minutes, your social battery began running low and you moved away from your friends wanting to have some time to yourself. You went towards the corner where there weren’t as many people around and leaned against the wall.

He had watched you the entire time. Constantly trying to tell himself not to meddle and that you weren’t his anymore, but once he had seen you sitting in the corner alone, he snapped.

“Fuck that” he murmured to himself moving before he had time to think about his actions.

Still Naive, you barely had a moment to take in your surroundings before a very familiar cologne scent filled your nose making your eyes widen before he was suddenly standing over you with his arm on the wall next to your head.

“Long time no see.” He said casually with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart dropped to your ass.

“Wish it was longer,” you say before you nearly instinctively get up and make an effort to walk away, but he quickly takes hold of your arm. Not harsh, not aggressive, but simply enough to make you stop in your tracks before he guided you back to the wall.

“No, you don’t.” He said scoffing. You were honestly surprised to even see him.

“Congrats on the house.” He says making you twist your head in confusion.

“How do you..—?” You said before he interrupted.

“I keep in touch.” He said taking a sip from his cup.

“Oh I’ve gotta have a serious conversation with my mom,” you say as the realization strikes.

“You know I’m the only son-in-law she’ll ever want for real.” He says finally cracking a smirk.

“Get to the point.” You say folding your arms.

“I miss you.” He says looking you in the eyes with those big brown eyes of his.

“Don’t give me that shit. You probably fucked so many hoes after we broke up and you still miss me?” You say getting closer to his face. Squinting your eyes at him.

“So.” He says glancing away for a second before looking back at you with a straight face before he notices you went tense and your gaze is fixated elsewhere. He turns around to match your gaze and sees none other than Satoru Gojo mugging him. He turned back to you with an unimpressed look while you were obviously flustered.

“Got something you want to explain?” He asks looking at you.

“No.” You say leaning back and taking a sip of your drink.

“Of all people you chose Satoru Gojo?” He asked in a calm tone.

“So.” You said taunting him before looking away because you knew that remark would tick him off. He lightly chuckled before sitting up.

“It was nice seeing you anyway, you look gorgeous.” He said walking away. A year ago something like that would’ve started the most heated of arguments. Maybe he has grown some. As he walked away, Choso bumped shoulders with Gojo making him mug him while Gojo looked back with a smug look on his face as he approached you.

“Things must be better between you two.” he teased snatching your drink and taking a sip from it.

“No.” You said looking away agitated.

“Good.” He says smirking making you fix your gaze back on him.

“A hello would be nice.” You said looking at him clearly irritated.

“My apologies, hello beautiful. It’s good to see you again.” He says passing you your drink back.

“He must’ve put you in a bad mood, I can make it better.” He says closing the space between you two making your breath hitch a bit before he licks his lips.

“I like strawberry kiwi too you know.” He says referring to your drink.

“You wanna know what my favorite flavor is though?” He says smiling arrogantly.

“What?” You ask genuinely confused to why he even brought it up.

“You.” He says gently tilting your head up and softly kissing your jawline making you freeze before he takes another sip of your drink and walks away. Choso had noticed the entire exchange and needless to say. He was heated as he watched you sit there frozen.

The night went on and all you could think about was the fact that you had gotten to talk to Choso after a whole year. You wondered if you were unnecessarily mean and bitter towards him, and if you should give him another chance. Your mind was clouded so much to a point where you had just decided it was best to leave for now.

You clutched your keys before heading to the door when an hand snatched you turning you toward them. Of course, it’s Choso.

“Where do you think you’re driving and you’ve been drinking?” He asks scrutinizing you as if you were dumb.

“I haven’t,” You said confused.

“Lie again,” He says looking at you. He definitely still uses the phrase he picked up from you.

“It was Juice Cho, give me my keys.” You say reaching for them but he raises his arm looking at you for a second before lowering it and handing them back when he notices you weren’t drunk.

“Can we talk?” He says as his eyes soften.

“Come to my car.” You say softly. The walk there was silent, even when the two of you got in the tension was thick. For the first minute, the two of you just stared at each other. Your eyes giving away what your mouth refused to say. The realization was setting in that you had both found yourself within each other’s presence again.

“I missed you.” He said ultimately letting his guard down and getting rid of the nonchalant act he had been putting up.

“I’ve done a lot of dumb shit since we broke up. I admit it, but no matter how hard I tried the thought of you could never escape my mind. I need you. I’m sick of all the dumb shit that’s happened and it’s driving me insane to even be around you like this—” You interrupted him with a kiss and he exhaled deeply as he caressed your cheeks. After about a minute the two of you pulled away moving as close to the door away from each other as possible trying to process the moment.

“I missed you too.” You said breathing heavily while looking over at him.

“What’s the deal with you and Gojo?” He also asks trying to catch his breath.

“Nothing now, I kinda ghosted him.” You say brushing it off.

“You two were together?” He asks sitting up. You could sense him beginning to become hostile.

“No.” You say.

“So why was he comfortable kissing you?” He says surprising you that he was still watching.

“We.. have a past.” You said playing with your fingers.

“What kind of past?” He asks demanding answers.

“He gave me head.” You let out making him go silent as he just looked over at you.

“Are you mad at me for that when you just admitted to sleeping around with multiple people?” You say scoffing.

“It’s different.” He says with a straight face.

“How so?” You ask perplexed.

“Because I know what it takes for someone to even get to that point with you.” He says leaning on his hand still looking at you while you avoided eye contact.

“So.” You say quietly barely above a whisper.

“You’re right.” He said surprising you.

“Can we both start over? I’m trying hard to be better in general. I’m not perfect but I swear I’ll do whatever to make this work. We shouldn’t be split up, not over the dumb shit we used to argue about.” He says.

“I’d really like to. I know I haven’t been perfect either but if we both try we can make this work.” You say as the two of you began to smile at each other.

“So, will you be my girlfriend, again?” He asks you.

“Yes” You say as the two of you begin to hug. He pulls back looking at you.

“I’m a mess.” He said chuckling.

“My mess.” You said making him pause before the two of you began to kiss once again.

Thinking about making a P2 the end on here was kinda rushed.

[holybibly]

Hi mommy,❤️

I just wanted to ask if everything is okay with you. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I haven’t heard as much from you in the past weeks as usually and you haven’t been as active as you were in the months before. But perhaps it’s just me imagining things. I still wanted to ask how you’re doing ❤️

Oh, baby bunny, I'm so sorry to have made you worry about my absence. I'm fine. I don't know if you saw my previous post about my trip to Italy, but my holiday ended up being longer than expected and I'm only returning home next week.

I'm in a hurry to let you all know that your one and only bunny queen will be back on the air starting next weekend. I'm not going to close the blog or stop writing; I was just on holiday and didn't have much free time, as I travelled all over Europe during the last two months.

However, my bunnies haven't been very active lately either, which was one of the reasons why I had no inspiration to write. My last few stories weren't very successful, which upset me and left me with no inspiration for the next ones.

I have also once again been convinced that my readers still prefer stories about Hwa, Mingi, Hongjoong and Woo, and perhaps I will write something about Yunho again, but I'm not sure. Anyway, we'll figure it out, bunnies!

Be patient, and I will fulfil all your fantasies.

[naturalswimmingspirit]

rewildwithsuzie

It's National Nude Day today in the US and I wondered why we don't have a day like that here in the UK, or internationally? Perhaps because we're the ones who cover up more?!

Well, whatever reason, I'm here celebrating something we all know I LOVE to do - be naked!

This didnt always come so naturally to me though. I began nude art photography as part of my self-love journey. If you could hear and feel how harsh I was on my body in my younger years, you would know what a transformation and a huge step that was. It was a conscious choice to feeeeeel all the yukky feelings of being naked in front of a camera and someone who was fully clothed. It meant I could sit with those feelings and love myself through the pain and discomfort, and it worked! It also helped massively that I was so wonderfully supported and encouraged in this process. I would really recommend it as part of everyone's self-love and body acceptance journey 💕

It was the same intention when years ago I started skinny dipping during wild swimming. It is such an amazing practice of liberation from the feeling of not being enough - nature embraces you in your natural state and you feel so alive 🌟

Well the part of my body I hid until I was 28, was my boobs. Those of you following my journey recently will know I had tuberous breast, a breast abnormality, as well as asymmetry. This caused a lot of pain and shame as a young woman, and after implants my confidence that was there deep down, shone through as I no longer felt disfigured 💔

Well, fast forward, and now the implants are out, I've had some correctional surgery and I'm ready to be fully me, naked and shining to the world in all my glory. Yes, maybe I could have found love for my boobs back then in my teens and early 20s, if it was now perhaps I would, but we all go through whatever journey we need at the time. Mine has been a long one of returning to look back at exactly what I see in the mirror and telling her she's awesome, over and over, no matter how much I didn't mean it to start with 🌸

I hope we can all embrace this journey in our own way, and be naked and in our own body without shame 💖