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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

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no1blacksapphirefan · 3 months ago

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Hi, hello, just found your blog and I really like it! It's nice here

Anywho, I was slightly curious about your self-aware crk au, and wanted to request something if that's okay!

What I'm really curious about is how do cookies react when you pick them up just to hold them and put them back down/to interactive decorations? How do they react when you drag them over to the castle and let them sit there? (I still find that feature endearing, haha, you can only imagine how many times I've put the deceitful trio/ancients/just the cookies I like there)

Another funny thing to think about is how ancients (and beasts) react if you make the castle look like theirs. Like, select the design of it based on the respective kingdoms?

I thank you very much for the wholesome and funny content, keep up the good work, those are interesting to read :)

Hihiii, thank you so much I'm glad you've enjoyed your time here <33 I'm very happy you find my writing for these silly cookies interesting and entertaining to read. Honestly never thought this account would grow this quickly hehehehe

Onwards to the thoughts!! Chose random cookies for this request

Black Sapphire oho he doesn't mind it one bit. You wish to see him sit at a table? Of course, want to put him at that altar decor with your mycookie? Oh he'd love too, even if it's not actually official. Just want to see him water some flowers? Anything.

Some things he enjoys more than others of course but if you genuinely enjoy just placing him somewhere where he can interact with it? Sure, seeing you smile at such silly things is entertaining to him afterall. He'll make sure to tease you when he escapes though.

Shadow Milk He defo has his favourite decor he loves interacting with, and he loves it more when you directly lead him there. And if he had any decor that was specifically for him? He's giddy when you but it, especially if it costed you gems.

Such a precious currency, yet you use it to buy his decor. Bring him over to it more, or well...if you don't he probably will walk all the way there unless you make him work.

He loves sitting at your castle as well, he stays there for as long as he could, he's even willing to stay forever. (I can see him get annoyed if he can't interact with certain decor, he deserves your attention and you putting him there)

Golden Cheese If I recall, there's a decor for her that is a throne right? Yeah she loves when you place her on that, it's a throne specially for her which adds to it.

There's a reason she sits the way she does on it, she's very proud of the fact you got it for her, seemingly specially for her too. Just watching you buy things for her and fellow cookies special for them, makes her feel so lucky to have you as their "God"

Dark Cacao he loves peacefully sitting on some of the decor, whether that be the the benches, cushions or the castle. He finds it peaceful, plus he's able to sit there for awhile without needing to get up unless you need him too.

While he can still do it on his own volition (haha see what I did there?), having you do it...he doesn't know why, but it's different. He has sworn for most of his life to protect earthbread and his kingdom, it was his duty he never wanted to stop. But within your kingdom walls, as long as you were there. He didn't have to worry about it.

So being able to, in better terms. Relax, and it's you essentailly making him relax. It makes him happy. He prefers the sitting decor but if there's any more interactable ones he's happy to do it for you.

#✦ Zeros Self-Aware AU #black sapphire x reader #shadow milk x reader #Golden Cheese x reader #Dark Cacao x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #black sapphire x you #shadow milk x you #Golden Cheese x you #Dark Cacao x you

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circeyoru · 1 month ago

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Inhumans Among Humans _ Part 1: Long Desired Companions

[Sung Jinwoo x Alter AU Shadow Monarch Female!Reader - Romantic | Monarch Change AU] Request Base ― Teaser/Prologue ― Part 1 (here)

“This isn’t… I want… I want to live too…! Why can you all live while I die? Why must I die for you to live? If I can choose… I chose me!”

After waking up from the disastrous Double Dungeon Incident, there was one change that turned your life around. You had woken up to a screen painstakingly close to your face that welcomed you to some program to become strong. You thought you were dreaming and gave it a try, only to find that you weren’t dreaming at all. First up, these screens were only visible to you. Secondly, these screens interact with you as if it was sentient. Thirdly, these screens actually work. By that…

You cut down another wolf and swung your sword to remove its blood from the blade, and an exhale escaped from your lips as you stared at the fallen pack before you. Words of congratulations and notifications of your level-up popped up beside you.

You meant that it actually made you stronger than ever. Once you were an E-Rank that was mocked by the world as the weakest and you could never imagine tanking a dungeon alone. Now though, with this newfound strength you gained, you managed to clear the dungeons provided by the screens. All thanks to the mysterious screens that entered your life from that point onwards.

At a certain point, you started to call it ‘System’ and it responded in kind. Ironically, it acted more like a doting family member than what you had now, or friends who would joke and help you at times of need.

! ALARM [YOU ARE ADVISED TO TAKE THE <JOB CHANGE QUEST>.]

“Aw, but I wanted to be more prepared, you know?” You looked away as you collected the loot you gained from the defeated monsters.

[YOU HAVE BEEN PUSHING THIS QUEST BACK FOR TOO LONG.]

[OVERQUALIFICATION WILL HINDER YOUR GROWTH.]

You pouted and eyed your status window. Each stat was well over 100, and your weakest was vitality, then strength, since you prioritized your agility and sense over all five stats. Now you’re questioning if you should invest more in strength.

[YOU ARE ADVISED TO TAKE THE <JOB CHANGE QUEST> NOW!]

“Ahh! Fine! If I die, it’s your fault, System!”

! ALARM [YOU CANNOT LEAVE THIS DUNGEON UNTIL YOU HAVE CLEARED IT.]

! ALARM [IN THIS AREA, YOUR POTION AND SHOP ABILITY IS RESTRICTED. ON LEVEL UP, YOU DO NOT RECEIVE STATUS HEALING.]

! ALARM [ITEMS SAVED IN YOUR INVENTORY CAN BE USED.]

The moment you finished reading the messages from the System, the battle had begun. You were ambushed from everywhere, removing your ability to hide in the shadows and assess before acting. At first, you were flustered, but you soon got the hang of it as you changed from long-range attack to melee combat. While your raw power left much to be desired, your overpreparations made up for what you lacked. Had you actually taken the quest when you first got it at level 40, you would have struggled immensely, but now you were level 50. It was a cheat, but then… Life’s not fair.

You hummed happily as you picked up the rewards from the fallen knights and animals, equipping yourself with gears and accessories that boosted your stats. The plus side was that they turned invisible after you wore them, and they weren’t even touchable, so there was no hindrance at all. Not to mention, you look pretty stupid if someone could see them on your form.

That wasn’t the main point. You have yet to face a challenge that would be considered as such. Your mind thought back to the System’s nagging and sweatdropped; perhaps you should have listened earlier on. You stopped before a gigantic pair of doors, an ominous aura creeping through the narrow cracks. You took a deep breath and exhaled with your eyes closed. It was a routine action of yours, but one that got you into the zone as you saw it. As childish as it may be, you called your other self that was perfect for dungeon fights above you.

When your eyes opened, your gaze sharpened, and the previous carefree aura you had was gone like a candle flame blown out by the wind. You took out your twin daggers from your inventory and swiftly kicked open the doors, you slipped in through the gap and surveyed your surroundings. Flames atop the pillar lit up one by one, illuminating the giant hall. You quickly ran up the pillar and kicked away the plate with a flame, you watched from a bird’s eye view. There was an empty throne at the end of the room, no enemy in sight.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard clanking metal before you saw it. A knight dressed from head to toe in red armour, a window displayed overhead in red reading [Knight Commander: Igris the Bloodred]. Even with your level raised to 50, this enemy was still red, meaning the odds weren’t in your favour.

Immediately, you switched weapons to your infinite quiver and bow. Just as you drew an arrow to fire, Igris moved at lightning speed. In a panic, you fired, only grazing the side of his helmet instead of the eyes you aimed for. The pillar you were perched on was cut through like butter and proceeded to collapse on you. You jumped to the next pillar, in midair, you turned to fire again at his eyes but this time he blocked it with his sword.

How is he that fast?! The second your feet touched the pillar, Igris had already cut through it again. You didn’t get a moment to boost yourself to another pillar and started to fall. Igris met you halfway and swiped his sword directly at you. You had used your bow to defeat yourself with its [Shield] effect but you were still knocked back into the wall. You coughed and fell to the ground, you looked behind you to find a crater created where you landed on the wall. Weakly, you looked back at your enemy. You knew this wasn’t a fight you could easily win. You couldn’t fight with hand-to-hand combat, it was impossible. Or is it?

You put away your quiver and bow. Instead, you took out two pieces of clothing to tie around your hands. If you could destroy his sword, that would— Huh? You watched in mild confusion as Igris discarded his long sword, even the daggers behind his back. You gulped, this was an enemy that could switch techniques mid-battle?!

There was no time to think as you immediately went into for a punch while Igris appeared to be still shifting gears. You were dead wrong as Igris punched you in the gut, well, he would have if your agility was low. You darted to the side and then behind him, kicking him in the back to make him stumble. There was barely one with his larger form, but you continued the assault. The only weakness you could find was his head, particularly his eyes. Though he must have know where you were targeting since every time you were anywhere close to his head, he’d knock you far away.

What you needed was to limit his movements.

In secret, you wore your clawed metallic fingertip caps and nimbly went from pillar to pillar. It didn’t matter if Igris was destroying them or not, but you just needed him to follow you while you laid the groundwork for your trap. From time to time, you had to avoid his grip that would attempt to grab your ankle as you gained higher ground, so you weren’t swung into the wall. It was more complicated than you’d like since your fatigue meter was increasing bit by bit.

“Ha…” You stopped at the center of the raised platform to admire your work at play. Igris was now immobilized, the thread glistening under the flickering flames. Steel threads, a weapon that strengthened with each snap. You had continuously broken it so that it could come back stronger and stronger, it took a while but now it was unbreakable. Not wasting anytime, you pulled on the threads and they constricted him until eventually they cut through his armour and turned him into pieces of metal.

You collapsed on the throne behind you with a sigh and leaned your head on the back of the throne. If you hadn’t taken this as you were now… You might have died. Now you knew you needed to focus on your [Strength] stats. If your weapons weren’t right and you lacked raw power… You would have died. Period. You glanced back at Igris’ fallen form. This time, you won by sheer luck, it was a mere fluke.

! ALARM [YOU LEVELLED UP!] [YOU LEVELLED UP!]

[RED KNIGHT’S HELMET] [DOMINATOR’S TOUCH] [LEATHER POUCH] [HEARTHSTONE] HAVE BEEN OBTAINED.

[THE JOB CHANGE QUEST WILL BEGIN.]

“What!? But, System, I haven’t checked my rewards!!!” You flinched at the notice. Within seconds, several dark swirling vortexes appeared around you and the fallen knight commander. You glanced back at Igris and then the vortexes, “Don’t tell… Knights are going to come out any second…”

[THE LONGER YOU LAST, THE MORE POINTS YOU CAN COLLECT THAT WILL PLACE YOU INTO A HIGHER-TIER JOB.]

[00:00:00]

[GOOD LUCK.]

“Points…” You eyed the voxtexes and immediately wore your gloves with metallic clawed fingertip caps. Threads came out from the clawed tips and surrounded each vortex like a spider web.

[EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT NEED IT.]

As you suspected, knights walked out of the vortexes and immediately walked right into the steel web you had set up. The first few had their armour cut into shreds. The others halted and those with shields came forward to try and overpower the threads, only to be cut as well. You let out a small grin, the threads may look weak and fragile, and they were when you first got them. Though that’s not what they are now.

“Hold still a bit while I get back my rewards, please.” You hummed as you glared at thin air. Sure enough, the window screens of your rewards came back.

[ITEM: LEATHER POUCH] HAS BEEN OPENED. - YOU HAVE RECEIVED [1,500,000,000 GOLD].

[TOTAL: 4,829,572,924G]

“If only this can be used in my daily life as well… Then I wouldn’t have to be making camp in the forest…” You looked to the side. “Then again… It’s hard to afford for an apartment…”

[ITEM: RED KNIGHT’S HELMET] ITEM CLASS: S TYPE: ARMOUR +15% PHYSICAL DAMAGE REDUCTION +20 STAMINA, +20 STRENGTH

“Help me wear it, System~~” You chimed at the window screen, your fingers twitched and wiggled to emphasise your point. “My hands are a bit tied up at the moment, thanks!” While that was going on for you, you weren’t aware that your slight movements sliced up a few knights crowded at your threads.

[RUNE STONE: DOMINATOR’S TOUCH] TYPE: RUNE STONE - A SKILL CAN BE OBTAINED BY BREAKING THE RUNE.

“Oh, drop the stone at the threads! It’ll break that way, right?” You jumped at the chance to gain another skill, its name touches ominous vibes, but also an empowering title all the same, so you were eager to have it. You watched as the rune stone was dropped onto your threads and broke. Immediately, you felt something within you and read the new screen.

[SKILL: DOMINATOR’S TOUCH LV.1] ACTIVE SKILL NO MANA REQUIRED - YOU CAN CONTROL OBJECTS WITHOUT TOUCHING THEM.

“So… Telekinese… Basically.” Your head tilted at the description. The no mana part was something you keyed in on since you didn’t have to watch your mana, using this skill would be very useful in battle. If your guess is correct, you’ll have to level it up to move objects bigger and heavier. “Alright, last one.”

[ITEM: HEARTSTONE] TYPE: CONSUMABLE - A QUEST-EXCLUSIVE ITEM. IF YOU BREAK THE HEARTHSTONE, YOU WILL INSTANTLY LEAVE THE DUNGEON. IF THE JOB QUEST ENDS, THE DUNGEON IS AUTOMATICALLY DESTROYED. CANNOT BE STORED.

“What?!” You watched in slow motion as the stone was dropped from thin air. If it drops and breaks, your quest ends! You immediately discarded the hold on one of your hands that controlled the threads to activate {Dominator’s Touch}, catching it before it could touch the ground and break in any way. “Why can’t it be stored?!”

The knights came at you with the threads gone from their vortex entrance. You placed the stone in your pocket for safekeeping before trying to reinstate your threads again. However, their distance was too close, and you couldn’t pull on them for the same effect. You abandoned your plan and ran at them, exchanging your gloves for daggers as you swiped at them any chance you got until you made it to the walls and ran up. You stabbed the daggers into the walls to serve as your footholds, and you pulled out your bow and quiver of arrows, shooting at any that came close to you.

The unusual aspect of this situation was the absence of a level-up notification. While the healing after levelling up would be restricted, the level-up function was still active since you had levelled up after defeating the knight commander. You observed the crowded knights and spotted a few clothed figures that were set apart from the knights. Why haven’t the mage been attacking you now or when the threads were still present? Were their magic that weak or…

“Summons.” You aimed an arrow at one and they disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only a pendant and their cloak behind. A number of knight armours broke down and fell to the ground in pieces.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

[SKILL: ‘DEAD SHOT’ HAS BEEN LEARNED.]

“That’s confirmation enough.” You took out more arrows and aimed. The vortexes are the mages’ spell, the knights are the summons that continuously come out of them as long as the vortex’s active with the mage’s survivability. Kill the root of the cause, kill the knights.

[EFFECT: ‘BIRD’S EYE VIEW’ HAS ACTIVATED.]

A holographic eyeglass appeared over your dominant eye as a clear view of the crowd came into view, the view moved as it followed your line of sight. So you searched for the cloaked hooded figures within the crowd. There are five mages remaining, so you have five targets. You let your arrows fly, but they only hit two of them and the other three had the intelligence to use the knights around them as shields to deflect your arrows.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.] [YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

You moved quickly when the remaining three got together on their knees for what appeared to be some form of larger spell. You abandoned your bow back into your inventory and took your daggers out of the wall as you fell to the ground. You reached out your hand and curled your fingers inwards to your palm. Using {Dominator’s Touch}, you grabbed onto the neck of one of the mages and and squeezed it tight until the notification popped up.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

Though the spell was completed. The remains of the fallen knights merged together as a neon purple glow turned them into a larger and stronger form as a golem that towered over everything in the room. It stomped its feet at you as if trying to crush a bug, but with your agility, you were far superior in speed. Merging the knights wasn’t a smart move since you had more space to act. You used {Dominator’s Touch} to give yourself a boost as you dragged yourself right into the magicians’ summoning party. You slashed your daggers at them and that was game.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.] [YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

You turned your head to make sure your enemies were all defeated. The knights all dropped dead to the ground, even the golem collapsed back into the pile of knight armours it once was. You breathed in and out, in and out, catching yourself as you calmed your heartbeat. You glanced to the timer, “Is it over, System?”

[00:29:21]

[ALL THE MONSTERS IN THE ROOM HAVE BEEN SLAIN, THE QUEST WILL END NOW.]

“So hey… I didn’t exactly last a long time… Given that the digits are in hours too, but does that mean I’ll be in a low-ranking job?” You nervously asked your nice companion.

[YOU WILL BE GIVEN A CLASS BASED ON THE PERFORMANCE YOU HAVE GIVEN DURING THE QUEST.]

[A JOB WILL BE GRANTED AFTER THE PLAYER’S ACTIONS HAVE BEEN ANALYSED.] - PLEASE WAIT PATIENTLY.

You hummed as you waited. Your mind replayed what you did. You went straight to the point, analyzed the situation, and acted without delay. You could be placed into an assassin class, a spy, maybe, or a ninja? If there were such a thing available. You don’t see yourself as tank or mage at least. You could understand a ranger with your mastery over the bow and the use of threads, and a fighter since you did rely on your daggers.

[WHEREVER THE PLAYER GOES, THE REAPER FOLLOWS.] [THE PLAYER’S PATH IS LITTERED WITH CORPSES, THE SMELL OF BLOOD, AND CARNAGE.] [AS THE PLAYER POSSESSES STRENGTH, SHE DOES NOT LEAVE ANYTHING TO HER TEAMMATES, AND OVERCOMES EVERYTHING WITH HER OWN STRENGTH AND INTELLIGENCE.] [YOUR DESIRE FOR POWER BURNS STRONG ENOUGH TO CALL THOSE WHO WANDER THE VALLEY OF DEATH, AND THE ARMY OF THE DEAD WHO FOLLOWS YOUR COMMANDS SHALL CREATE A PATH WHERE YOUR WORD WILL BE THE LAW AND YOU WOULD NEVER NEED OUTSIDERS’ HELP AGAIN.]

[YOUR JOB IS “NECROMANCER”.]

“Huh?” You blinked at the windows with their cryptic messages. “Are you sure that’s me? I’m not that scary… Am I?”

[YOU ARE.]

“Hey now…” You chuckled. You stared at the window that displayed your result. A necromancer is a magic sub-class, and while you have increased your [Intelligence] stat to master your various weapons and their unique skills, you don’t focus much on magic. Could it be because of your continuous use of {Dominator’s Touch} during the quest?

A grim magician that summons an army of undead to do their bidding. Wait, summon? You eyed the fallen knights and mages around the room. If you did have companions that helped you like the System, then you could earn more money no problem and make life easier. Plus, these undead should be loyal beings, right? They would be betraying you and follow your commands, they would be practically immortal as well, as long as you were alive.

You really wouldn’t need to rely on another person. You chuckled bitterly and smiled with your eyebrows furrowed. How pathetic. Are you that desperate for companionship that you would take a job like this? To be friends with your own power? You pushed it to the back of your mind. Who had the right to judge or question you. You had been on your own for too long. If being a necromancer was the only way you could surround yourself with trusted beings for your own good, then so be it.

True, you’re not sure about whether the undead you summon would be able to grow stronger, but you could. The stronger you grow, the stronger your summons as logic would point to. In time, you’d be able to clear dungeons alone with relative ease. Either way, you can grow stronger and so can your future companions.

! ALARM [WILL YOU ACCEPT YOUR JOB?] YES NO

“No need to ask, yes.” You smiled.

[YOUR JOB HAS BEEN CHOSEN.]

[BASED ON YOUR PERFORMANCE AND POINTS, YOU WILL BE GIVEN A CHANCE TO PROMOTE TO A SUPERIOR CLASS.]

[YOU HAVE OVERACHIEVED THE EXPECTED PLAY TIME.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[YOU DID NOT USE A HEARTSTONE.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[FINAL HEALTH IS ABOVE 80%.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[ALL ENEMIES HAVE BEEN SLAIN.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[THE TOTAL POINTS HAVE EXCEEDED THE FEAT LIMIT.]

[YOU WILL BE PROMOTED FROM ‘NECROMANCER’ TO ‘SHADOW MONARCH’.]

Shadows swirled and came at you, instead of devouring you or overwhelming you, it felt like a blanket over your form. It clung to you and cloaked you with a refreshing chill. Exhale and you could see your breath for a few seconds before it disappeared. “Woah…”

[YOU HAVE LEARNED A JOB-EXCLUSIVE SKILL.]

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED BONUS STATS.]

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED THE TITLE ‘THE ONE WHO OVERCAME ADVERSITY’.]

Your head turned to the screams and cries you heard all around you, your eyes glowed as you spotted the faint shadowy whisps from the knight armoury.

[SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.]

“So it’s more like turning corpses into summons than randomly summoning stuff…” You remarked aloud after understanding the System’s windows. You blinked and turned to the first and hardest opponent you faced, you skipped over the knight armours to what remains of the knight commander Igris. You only had a hard time when you faced him, if he was your companion…

[PLEASE SELECT YOUR COMMAND PHRASE FOR SHADOW EXTRACTION.]

“Wakey wakey~”

[ARE YOU SURE?]

“....Get up?”

[LAST CHANCE.]

“Fine fine…” You gave up and offered your hand to Igris, your eyes closed briefly before reopening with a purple hue. Like you were possessed by some force or destiny, the word came naturally to you. “Arise.”

Shadows shifted at your word and chilling tone, the black smoke twirled and twisted from the gaps of the armour. The translucent state slowly formed a solid figure you recalled moments ago. Only this time, he wasn’t plated in blood-red armour but pitch-black from head to toe; the only colours were the ponytail at the top of the helmet that flowed down to his back, and between the gaps of his armour were neon blue, even his eyes.

[SHADOW’S LEVEL WILL BE 7.]

[SHADOWS HIGHER THAN RANK KNIGHT CAN BE NAMED.]

“A name…” You hummed at the knight commander, frankly you have no talent for naming and his old name had a ring to it so… “Igris. You are simply Igris now.”

[IGRIS LV.7] RANK: KNIGHT

[YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY EXTRACTED THE SHADOW.]

“Let’s call on other companions to join you. Can’t be a commander without soldiers.” You shifted your attention to the piles of armour. You had more than enough space to extract more Shadows into your army of the dead. You had to thank yourself for waiting a while before doing this quest, since if you had done so when you level and stats were lower, you might be able to accomplish much. “Arise.”

[SHADOW INFANTRY LV.1] RANK: NORMAL

[SHADOW MAGICIAN LV.1] RANK: ELITE

[SHADOWS ABLE TO BE EXTRACTED: 37/50]

[REMINDER: YOU CANNOT RECALL SHADOW SOLDIERS THAT HAVE BEEN SENT TO NOTHINGNESS.]

You smiled at them as they all bowed to you, your eyes glowing blue, “Let’s enjoy our time together, my faithful comrades in arms.”

Note: Now, Jinwoo won't be appearing a while, so don't go asking where is Jinwoo and such in the comments section or my inbox. There's a lot to cover before Jinwoo appears and the story moves on. As polled before, this story is now a romantic one between Jinwoo and Reader, the ending of this story will be before the Jeju Arc, meaning Beru and the JP Hunters onwards won't be appearing in this series. All parts are around this length, around 2800-3000+ words, so it'll take a while to update. Please be patient.

With all that out of the way~ I'm happy to officially kick start this series!!

Guys, please tell me you got the reference near the end!!!! I laughed my head off at those. If you didn’t, shame on you (just kidding). Just check it out below with the links

English VA for Jinwoo Threatens Haters Recording for “Arise” ― Animation Version

Hope you guys like this and won't be too bored since Jinwoo won't be appearing for a while~ Enjoy guys~~

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @stoats-a-dork @daiyanomochi @snowy-violet @sleepyamaya @thetruepair @aixaingela @weponxwrites @nk1023 @mariajgn-blog1 @floralcharmer @whocaresim18 @yanderelver @soft-dots @genniecokkie @midorimashintaro707 @kazudare @yoonseokerist @kyreahnvae @amayakurusu13 @pokemonaora @misakicchi @e-23-2001 @baleria @nshasy @mysticalwonderlandnacho @solojklins @darkness-of-the-sakura @time-shardz

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling insert #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #Monarch Change AU #shadow monarch #Inhumans Among Humans

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alternate-real-ities · 6 months ago

Note

I'd love to see what alternate versions of this guy there are.

Sure buddy. It wasn't easy tuning my machine this time, but I think I've found some interesting realities out there! Hope you like them :)

In an alternate reality not so different from our own, this bearish hunk has taken on a more muscular, less chubby form - transformed into a behemoth. Here, he's not just any old gym rat; he's a world-famous powerlifter and internet celebrity whose influence knows no bounds.

Young men from all corners of the globe look up to him as their idol, their motivation, their reason for living - especially when it comes to getting swole. They follow his every post, eagerly absorbing each tip on training and nutrition like gospel from a fitness prophet. And why not? With a physique like his, who wouldn't want to emulate perfection?

His pecs are massive, each one a study in taut, rippling muscle that defies the laws of physics. His arms bulge with thickness, as if carved from granite by some mythical sculptor. His thighs are tree trunks, powerful and unyielding, while his calves are chiseled masterpieces of human anatomy.

But his influence extends far beyond the gym walls. In this world, a new wave of ripped teens has become the norm, thanks largely to their idolization of this muscular beast. Gone are the days of skinny, awkward youth; now, every boy from puberty onwards is driven to get big and buff in order to measure up.

Parents worry about the health implications, but who can blame them for wanting their sons to grow up strong and confident like this fitness icon? And as for the young men themselves, they'd follow him anywhere - even into the depths of steroid abuse if it means achieving that perfect, chiseled physique.

In this world, there's no escaping his shadow - nor would anyone want to. For in the presence of such unadulterated muscle majesty, all other men are but mere mortals, forever relegated to the sidelines while he reigns supreme as the ultimate embodiment of human potential.

In another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a towering Latin stud, the kind of papi that makes hearts race and loins stir across every continent. Hailing from Colombia, he grew up in a world where machismo is king, and his rugged good looks and powerful physique were destined for greatness.

Here, he's known as Papi Leche, a towering figure of masculine perfection with a body that could make even the most devout Catholic priests weep with lust. His skin is a rich, burnished brown that glistens with the sheen of oil and sweat after a long day at the gym.

But it's not just his physique that sets this Latino daddy apart - it's his legendary cum, renowned throughout the land for its unparalleled potency and addictive quality. Gringos from all over the world can't resist the allure of his Latin leche, once they've tasted its salty, intoxicating flavor.

He takes great pleasure in breaking them down, both physically and mentally, until they're nothing more than obedient little cumsluts desperate for another taste of his golden nectar. And he always delivers, pumping load after massive load into their eager mouths and throats until they're drowning in Latin dick juice.

And it's not just a physical addiction. They gradually change the more leche they drink. Their skin darkens, their features soften, and their accents change until they're speaking in perfect, melodic Spanish.

Before long, this Latino daddy has an entourage of half-Latino, half-gringo chicos who worship him and vie for his attention - all of them hooked on his leche like junkies on a fix.

So if you ever find yourself in Colombia, make sure to keep an eye out for this hulking bear of a man - but be warned: once you've caught sight of him, there's no escaping his gravitational pull. You'll be drawn in like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist the allure of his latin leche until you're nothing more than a mindless, cum-addicted shell of your former self.

Finally, in yet another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a cocky, wealthy young Arab stud - the epitome of Dubai's high-flying elite and a player in every sense of the word.

Here, he's the king of the scene, with a body that's equally at home on the beach or in the boardroom. His skin is a flawless, golden brown, his features chiseled like marble from the hands of a skilled sculptor.

As a member of Dubai's elite social circle, he moves through life like a prince among paupers - except instead of a crown, he wears a gold-plated watch on each wrist. He cruises the city in his gleaming black Lamborghini, with a string of adoring twink boys piled into the backseat for good measure.

These young men are just playthings for him to use and discard, their tight little holes and eager mouths mere receptacles for his boundless sexual appetite. He'll fuck them raw, pump them full of cum, and then toss them aside like yesterday's trash - all while smirking in satisfaction at the knowledge that he's left another broken little twink in his wake.

But it's not just about the physical act for this Arab stud; it's about the power dynamic. He loves nothing more than to humiliate his conquests, reducing them to quivering, tear-streaked messes as he lectures them on their place in the world - namely, at his feet, servicing his every whim.

And when he lets loose with that massive, cut Arab cock, it's a sight to behold - thick, veiny, and heavy as a horse's head, with a bulbous, slit-tipped crown that glistens with precum. It's the kind of dick that can stretch even the most well-fucked hole to its limits, leaving its recipients gasping in awe at his sheer size and potency.

And yet, despite all the degradation and abuse, these twinks can't get enough of him. They're addicted to the thrill of being used by such a powerful, dominant figure; they crave the taste of his cum on their tongues and the feeling of his thick, veiny cock splitting them open.

But despite all of this, this Arab boy has a soft spot for romance. He adores showering his favorite twink with expensive gifts and lavish dates - taking him to the finest restaurants and clubs, then whisking him away to his private villa for a night of passionate lovemaking under the stars.

So if you ever find yourself in this version of Dubai, keep an eye out for this hunky Arab stud. Just be prepared to worship him... and pray that he deigns to notice your pathetic little existence.

And so, once again, we have explored the possibilities that the multiverse provides. Which version of our friend here do you think is the most appealing? Or perhaps you have your own alternate version in mind? Who knows, the possibilities are endless...

#male transformation #muscle tf #muscle transformation #musclegrowth #race change #alpha man #alpha muscle #latinization #arabization

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illyrian-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Our girl – Part 2

Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Reader unwell/not eating, depression and lots of angst.

Keep reading ⬇️

--------

You slept through any offerings of daylight the next day.

The bustle of the infirmary was a hum to your ears, your exhaustion keeping the world a distance away. Even the healers couldn't stir you when the frequented your room, changing your dressings and checking your pulse.

You woke for a meal of simple broth in the evening, and were glad to have kept it down. You still fought feverish sweats and chills, and the ache in your stomach and chest was persistent. Madja would oversee your care as she had the evening before. She had given one instruction – the more rest, the better.

Night set on the ward again, and you were glad to be enveloped by dim lighting and quieter activity.

Unsure of when sleep had found you, you awoke in an open field. It was bright, the high-pointed sun drenching the landscape in gold, the lake in the distance sparkling and inviting. Familiarity warmed you more than the sun, yet the scene around you remained hazy.

Ears pricking at a ripple of laughter ahead of you, your heart fluttered with excitement. It was instinct to chase that voice, your bare feet pushing from the warmed grass beneath them as you broke into a run. Your skirts kicked beneath you before you hiked them above your knees, both your speed and smile growing.

Ahead was the source of the laughter, a child who also ran, her long locks bouncing with a distinct curl. Meryl. She was no more than 10 years of age, her childish laugh echoing in your ears as your heart pulled at the sight of her.

“Meryl!” you called, continuing the chase, your heels pounding to the ground as you tried to speed up. “Slow down!” You heard your own voice then, also of a child.

The setting around you flooded with detail as a lost memory found you. Your visit to your parent’s good friend in Spring Court, an Uncle of sorts, his charming lake-side cottage where you and your sister would spend hours swimming and playing – and chasing! Of course! Each day you raced to see who would reach the lake first, and Meryl had always been that little bit faster.

Meryl responded with another laugh, so innocent and carefree, as a child should be. You reached a hand out, your heart pounding as you struggled to catch up. You ached for one more chance to speak with her or to hold her, or even to see her face. But she bounded onwards without ever turning her head.

A harsh breeze blew from behind, and the golden glow of the once-memory quickly turned grey and harsh as a storm threatened the sky. The water of the lake was now violent, thrashing with unforgiving waves. You halted your run, yet Meryl bound forward, her laughter drowned by the roar of the wind.

“Meryl!” you called again, your voice now of your adult self, urgent and panicked. As you tried to resume running, you almost toppled over, your hands catching you before you could fall. Something had anchored your bare feet to the ground.

With a yell of frustration, you tried to pry your legs free. Up ahead, your sister’s figure grew smaller, her direction set for the dangerous waters.

“Please! Meryl stop!” Tears began to well in your eyes as you fought to free yourself. You saw them then, the swirls of shadows that kept your legs pinned and unmoving.

“Wha-? Get off me!” You frantically clawed at them, but instead they climbed your arms too, forcing you to the ground.

Hands were on you then, tugging at your clothes and pulling at your limbs. Shadows mixed with siphons blue and red, and swirls of night clouded your vision, between it peeks of Meryl slipping further and further away. You clutched at the roots of the grass, desperate to pull yourself free.

“Stop! I have to save her!” you begged, your voice breaking with despair. But those hands were unrelenting, so strong in their grip as you tried to summon your power. That too rendered useless, cracking to a quick fizzle without so much as a sting.

Before you could call one final plea to your sister, shadows and hands and magic smothered your mouth, drowning your cry in their hold. All you could do was watch in horror as Meryl dived beneath the thrashing waves before your vision was overcome with smoke and night, and finally black.

————

Azriel and Cassian watched as you writhed in your cot, the feverish sweat on your brow glowing in the soft fae light of the infirmary wing.

“What’s wrong with her?” Cassian whispered, his face etched with concern as he stepped closer to you. He gingerly bought a callused hand to your cheek, running one gentle stroke down the length of it.

Azriel’s frown deepened as he heard your sister’s name muttered on your lips, followed by a whimper and ragged breaths. “It’s a fever dream.” he answered, his arms folded as he kept to the edge of your cot.

Cassian looked down at you, noting the tears that stained your cheeks.“We shouldn't have come here,” he said, his jaw tight from guilt. “She’s still unwell, we should let her rest.”

He and Azriel had easily snuck into the ward, winnowing straight past the few healers on night shift, and even slipping past Madja who was buried in paperwork at the desk near the entrance of the infirmary. But now Cassian eyed the door, just as eager to leave.

Azriel was only half listening to his brother as he commanded his shadows. They climbed at the base of your cot, swirling inwards as they found their way to your face and limbs, cooling you as you continued to stir, now a little more gently. Azriel did not show his satisfaction as he watched you sigh, finding some comfort in their touch.

The sound of a curtain being harshly drawn caused the males to jump, revealing an incredibly unimpressed Madja. Azriel cursed himself silently, having used all of his shadows to soothe you without setting guard to the room.

“I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses,” she said coldly to the males, pushing past them and setting a pale next to your bed. She shooed Azriel’s shadows as if they were a mutt on the street, and they quickly scattered back to their master.

“How is she doing?” Cassian asked, eyes pleading.

“I will not disclose that to you,” the healer answered tightly. Wringing the towel within the pale, Madja wiped the sweat from your brow. Your stirring had stopped at least, and you seemed to have found a deeper slumber than before. Madja sighed now, before casting a half look to the boys. “She’s improving, but is still quite weak.”

The males nodded, your sickly skin, limp body and slick hair as evident as the healer’s prognosis.

“Do I need to have words with the High Lord and Lady of their emissaries overstepping my regulations?” Madja asked without looking their way, wringing the cloth yet again before pressing it to your neck and bust. “Not to mention violating patient privacy,” she added.

Cassian hung his head low. “I’m sorry. I don't know what we were thinking.” Azriel refused to look at the healer, his eyes never leaving you.

Madja continued to care for you in silence, allowing Cassian and Azriel to grovel for a few more moments. Picking up the pale, she made to leave your bedside before answering the males. “I have worked with enough Illyrian’s to know of your possessive nature. But I won't be so forgiving if she wakes to find you here. Already your scents have caused more harm than good. She must not know you came, it will only upset her and might unravel her progress.”

“She’s that upset with us?” Azriel asked, his gaze beyond the healer before him, still fixed on you.

“Yes,” she answered plainly. Neither of the males knew what to say. “Now leave, before I regret showing any patience for boyish brutish idiocy.”

Azriel took the risk of another tongue lashing to send a final shadow to caress your cheek, before clasping his brother’s arm and winnowing back to the House of Wind.

————

You were kept at the infirmary for another four nights without any further disturbance from your family. They asked to visit, of course, practically begging through letters and pleas to Madja. But each of their requests were left unanswered, and you too buried your need to have them by your side while you healed.

It gave you time to think of a plan – you could not stay at the infirmary forever. When you had first moved the Velaris, while training as a spy, you lived in a small apartment in the cliffs that faced the Sidra. You hadn't visited there in almost a decade, but your once-home was written to your name, and vacant.

Madja insisted on settling you in, helping you climb the stairs to your room as fatigue still lingered.

Prying the stiff wooden door open, you almost smiled at the sight of your old home. A mattress lay on the floor in the corner of the room just as you had left it – you had never been able to afford a frame on training wages. A small chest of drawers was pushed up against the wall, and the kitchenette was lined with those charming blue tiles just as you remembered.

You were thankful Madja had sent a maid ahead of time, and while the musk of an unused apartment lingered, you were glad to not have to dust in your current state. The small fireplace contained fresh logs of wood which meant there was no urgent trip to the markets either.

“This is it,” you spoke more to yourself as you ran a hand along the kitchenette before making your way over to the chest, prying a stiff drawer open.

Madja was less than impressed. “Child, perhaps you would consider more comfortable accommodation? One where the bed is not on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine here,” you answered, distracted as you searched through your old drawers, finding them empty.

“The High Lord and Lady have offered to accommodate you elsewhere–”

“I don't want their help,” you snapped, shoving the drawer back into the chest with notable anger.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You don't need to suffer at the cost of their mistakes, Y/N.”

You sighed then, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I won't accept their fortune any longer. This home is mine, I worked hard for it. I will be perfectly fine here while I figure out a plan.”

Madja nodded, scanning the room once over. “Do not forget to take your medicine,” she lectured before turning to the door, knowing better than to linger. There was no remedy for how quiet the apartment fell when she left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Mustering the little energy you had, you set your kettle to boil, waiting patiently for the steam to whistle from the tin, the only sound to fill the apartment beyond the distant hum of the town below.

After a few sips of tea, exhaustion found you again. Setting the mug of tea aside on the cold wooden floor, you crawled into bed, pulling the too-thin covers over your head and leaving your drink unfinished. With your back to the world that beckoned outside, you faced the wall instead, tracing a crack that ran across its length.

How motivated you had felt when you first moved here. At the time, you were grieving Meryl of course, but you had a plan – a one way ticket to ensure a balance in the world, to fight for some sense of justice. Never had you thought it could fail so miserably.

So you traced that crack with a weak finger, remembering your sister, mourning her with a fresh wave of pain.

Grief continued to weigh heavy on your chest the following few days. You had intentions on visiting the market, buying some food and sustaining yourself while you made a new plan. But instead you felt anchored to your mattress, the idea of cooking and bathing and facing the outside world completely overwhelming. Instead, cups of tea brewed only to be left untouched, yours eyes heavy as you watched the steam rising from the mug swirl and dance, and by the time it finally cooled you were already asleep.

And the cycle continued. In the moments you had the strength, you wept. And in the moments you didn’t, you slept.

It was after five days that Madja visited to replenish your medicine. The healer opened the door to your apartment when her knocks went unanswered, casting the first bit of natural light in the room in days. With your back facing outwards, you didn’t stir as she walked over and immediately collecting the assortment of mugs on the floor.

“Have you left this room at all?”

You offered a small shake of your head, unable to lift it from your pillow, your eyes red and stiff with dried tears.

“Have you eaten?”

Your stillness was her answer. Madja sighed. “Well we simply can't have that. I understand a loss for appetite, so I will bring some additional brews to keep you sustained.”

“I don't want them.” It took all your strength to turn over your shoulder and look at the healer, your voice hoarse having gone days without speaking.

She simply shook her head as she looked down at you. You do not have a choice, her expression read.

“Might you try to get some fresh air? Or bathe? I can assist with both if you–“

But you were already turning your shoulder to the wall, immediately exhausted at the thought of leaving your bed. “I’ll do it tomorrow Madja,” you sighed. “I’m too tired in this moment.” You didn't have the energy to wonder if she bought your lie or not.

The healer said nothing as she closed the door quietly behind her.

————

“I’m concerned for her wellbeing.” Madja sat opposite the High Lord and Lady in their study, a large willow desk between them. Rhys sat with his hands laced together tightly, a deep frown etched on his face. Feyre beside him held a sleeping Nyx, doing her best to not stir the babe while she exchanged looks of deep concern.

“She isn't eating. She barely drinks a thing, and has failed to take much of her medicine. If she continues at this rate, she will fall much more ill.”

“What can we do?” Feyre asked gently, stroking Nyx’s hair while he snoozed at her chest.

“I don’t suggests interfering at this stage. I am only here to warn you of my concerns.”

“And what happens if she worsens?” Rhys asked, his violet eyes holding the stare of the healer in front of him.

“I will call for you then. I hate to suggest the use of your daemati abilities, but if it comes down to life or death…” Madja trailed off, her hands clamping even tighter in her lap.

“We understand,” Rhys responded with a single nod, casting a knowing look to his mate. “Thank you for coming here, Madja.”

The healer stood to leave. “Do not thank me. Again, I am clear to not involve myself in what has occurred between you and Y/N. I am here purely as her healer.”

The High Lord and Lady stood too, seeing her to the door.

“Please keep us informed, and if there is anything that we can provide,” Feyre added quickly, almost desperate to convey her care.

Madja responded with a tight nod, turning to leave. And had she left only moments earlier, she would have found two Illyrians by the door, overhearing the entire conversation. But they were already on their way.

————

Lost again in deep sleep, you didn't stir as the Shadowsinger and General entered your apartment, Azriel’s shadow’s having easily pried the lock open.

The sight of your trembling figure curled up on the mattress pulled at both their hearts, your hands fisted at the covers with deep yet disturbed sleep.

Azriel stealthily made his way across to the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the room. With no dining table or chair in sight, Cassian set the meal they had bought in the small kitchen before quietly approaching you. He knelt down on two strong knees, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek before gently shaking you.

“Y/N, wake up doll, it’s us,” he spoke with a hushed voice.

Stirring slightly, you were slow to wake, blinking through the darkness as you were sure you were still dreaming. But as your eyes cleared, the large figure in front of you revealed itself – wings tucked in, hair pulled back in a signature bun, leather strapped up to his knuckles. Cassian was the definition of strength met with comfort, and it took you a few moments to come to your senses.

Your body froze before you sat up quickly, shoving his hands off of you. “Wh-wh?” you stuttered, your eyes dancing between his.

Cassian raised his palms in surrender. “It’s alright, don't panic. We’re just here to help you with a few things.”

Your found your voice then, deep from within your chest, hoarse and broken from days of crying. “Get out,” you spat.

Azriel appeared from the bathroom, watching from the doorway. You flashed your eyes to his, rage quickly filling your veins. How dare they intrude.

“We just want to make sure you’re all right sweetheart, and then we’ll go,” Cassian reasoned. He stood now, offering you his hand.

Days without eating meant the hurry you stood in caused your head to spin, black dots now dancing in your vision. But you held your ground, your voice even icier than before. “I said get out.”

“C’mon doll, let us help you for five minutes.”

“You’re idea of help undid everything I ever worked for.” You shoved at his chest, and he let you push him a few steps back, your hands trembling as you pulled them back.

“Y/N when was the last time you ate?” Azriel’s voice was gentle too, your vision reeling as you whipped your head to glare in his direction. Shaking your head, you curled your hands to fists. It was none of their business.

“Please, sweetheart,” Cassian reached for you then, which earned another shove from you.

“No Cassian! No! Do you understand you have done? Did you even consider what would happen when you decided I wasn't good enough?”

“It wasn’t like that Y/N. We had to keep you safe.” Azriel stayed by the bathroom door, his arms now crossed as shadows slowly seeped on the wooden floor towards you.

Days of isolation and exhaustion had tears pricking at your eyes already. “You are cowards. And I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“Please Y/N–,” Cassian tried one more time.

“Get out of my life.” You had never uttered words so cold. You shoved the General again, but this time he stayed put. Your gritted your teeth, seething at him. “You broke me!”

Cassian looked down at you, his brow pulling in sorrow.

“You shattered my world.” Another unsuccessful push, and you were crying. “Now I have nothing, I am nothing.”

Both of them watched you as your face crumpled, your anger rising as you punched at Cassian’s chest, too weak to cause any harm. “I hate you!”

Cassian’s eyes welled as he stood still, taking the beating without so much as a flinch. “We’re so sorry,” he whispered.

You shook your head, ignoring his apology as you began pounding against him with weak fists. “I hate you both!”

Tears now rolled down the General’s cheek as he let you continue your assault. “We’re so so sorry Y/N.”

You kept shaking your head as Cassian caught both of your wrists, holding them as he took to one knee in front of you.

“We love you,” Cassian cried, prying your fist open and kissing your palm, kissing up your arm, his thumb stroking your hand in the way he knew soothed you. “Please forgive us.”

You broke at his plea. He was a good male, they both were. But they had turned your heart to stone, turned you to someone so damaged, so unrelenting and unforgiving, someone you never wanted to be. You were a monster of their own making, and there was no undoing it. Sobs racked through your body, and it took everything you had not to crumble to the ground.

Azriel was behind you then, his shadows curling around your exposed skin, soothing you where they could. You did not fight him, not as he took your hands from Cassian, not as he too kissed your tears away while murmuring his own apologies, not even when he lifted you from under your knees, carrying you to the bathroom. You hated him, your mind screaming at you to yell and hiss and spit, to swear him from your home and from your life. But in this moment, where exhaustion and isolation loomed, you had no more fight to give.

Azriel didn’t speak as he undressed you before placing you in the tub. You were still crying as he washed you, scarred hands so attentive to your body, the sound of water sloshing and pouring over your head mixing with your laboured breaths. You kept your knees to your chest, your head turned away, but you let him scrub you clean.

He gently pulled you from the tub into a fresh towel, wrapping you in the soft cotton before lifting you again. Your apartment had come to life with a small fire Cassian had lit, low flames flickering with warmth.

Azriel moved to sit on the bed, keeping you bundled in his lap. Cassian was crouched in front of you, his hands holding a vial of stew, the steaming contents bought to your mouth on a spoon.

“Eat this,” Cassian said gently. You wanted to be stubborn, to fight them more than the pathetic amount you already had. But your stomach cramped with hunger at the scent of the stew, and you were to weak to refuse it. So you let Cassian feed you, your body growing more and more slack the fuller your stomach became. A vial of medicine was quickly tipped against your lips too, and you swallowed its contents with a small whimper.

In your exhausted haze, your hardly noticed Azriel dress you in fresh clothes, even braiding your hair before he lay you down, pulling the covers over your.

Cassian and Azriel were watching you as you fought your sleep, heavy eyes lifting to find them.

“I meant what I said.” Your voice was a mere whisper

They exchanged a look, before Cassian crouched to pull the covers closer to your chin. “We know.”

There was a beat of silence. “I want you to leave me be.”

“Not until you start taking care of yourself,” Azriel spoke, his voice soft yet strict. You didn't have any energy to fight back, to tell him he could blame himself for the spiral you had entered.

“Go,” your rasped before turning your back to them, enticed by the comfort of sleep with a full belly, clean clothes and warm apartment.

“Rest up Y/N.” Cassian’s words were a lullaby you couldn’t fight.

“We love you,” Azriel added, and the last thing you felt was the caress of cool shadows at your neck before you drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

————

Waking to sunlight, you felt notably stronger than you had in days. You knew it was because of the care Azriel and Cassian had provided, which frustrated you to your core.

Azriel’s words rung clear in your mind. They would not leave you be until you started to take care of yourself, so you would leverage the strength you had to come up with a plan.

It only took a few days for your Uncle to reply. Yes, he still had his home by the lake. Yes, you could stay with him as long as you needed. There was work to be done in Spring Court, rehabilitation and building after Hybern had depleted almost every resource from the lands, Tamlin not yet strong enough to recoup his court after the war. You could find sanction there, help others and distract yourself with work. And most importantly, distance yourself from the people you once loved.

With your next steps laid clear, you sent a letter to the River House, asking for one final favour.

————

Rhysand was waiting at the River House terrace alone as promised. Cloaked in signature black, he watched the stars dance in the night sky with a gentle grip on the railing, his back to you as you approached.

This was the same terrace that had hosted many evening drinks, jokes and conversations shared with your family, and even offered the much needed escape away from the buzz of various balls and celebrations. A twinge of pain stabbed at your heart at those memories. Today, it was just a terrace, a mere meeting point before you stepped towards your new life.

It was unsurprising Rhys had heeded your instruction to meet you alone, you knew he would do it. You wondered if he lied about his whereabouts, or if he instead warded your presence from the others. He had likely hidden your scent from Cassian and Azriel, but what about his mate?

Saying goodbye to Feyre and Rhys at the same time had felt far too painful, impossible even. While they were equals, High Lord and Lady as well as mates, they were still very different beings. Feyre was too forgiving, too caring and loving to have reached this point on her own. It needed to be Rhys, you needed to direct this at someone who could take it, someone who deserved it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning now, hands sliding to his pockets. You ignored his question, stopping a few paces away. Tension hung heavy between you.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said tightly. Rhysand didn't speak, but offered an arm to the seating behind you. You sat down silently, your last act of obedience.

“I can no longer serve the Night Court,” you said plainly.

Rhysand didn’t flinch, wise enough to have known this was coming. “That does not mean you don't have a home here,” he answered calmly, as if that logic was reason enough to stay.

You shook your head stubbornly. “Please accept my resignation.”

Rhysand sighed then, leaning forward on his elbows to level a look at you. “I’m aware, Y/N, and I accept. This formality isn’t necessary.”

You knew that, it wasn't why you were here. Rhysand waited patiently for you to continue.

“I need a favour.”

“Anything,” he responded almost instantly.

“I need you to let me leave.”

Rhysand sat back now, a small frown pulling at his brow. “The choice has always been yours.”

Shaking your head, you looked up at the High Lord. “I don't trust that wherever I go, I won't be followed.”

Rhysand raised his brows.

“After recent events, I know Azriel and Cassian won't allow me that freedom.”

Rhysand let out a quick breath before nodding once, violet eyes finding the nights horizon. “I’ll ask them to adhere to your wishes.”

“As if that is enough,” you bit back, ice laced in your tone. “Pull rank, use your power, lie or cheat or trick, I don't really care. Just make it happen, it’s the least I deserve.”

Rhysand breathed quietly as he studied you. “Consider it done,” he said finally.

Gratefulness was an instinct, but you stubbornly bit down your thanks. Instead, a moment of silence fell between you.

“Where are you going?” Rhys pried.

“Do not ask me that.”

“I care for your safety.”

“I don’t want your care.”

Rhysand audibly sighed then, one hand reaching at the distance between you, finding place on the chase. “Tell me, Y/N. Say it out loud.”

You flashed your eyes to him. He looked back at you, his expression worried, concerned, pitying. Gods you hated that look.

“There is no point,” you said coldly, struggling to hide the grit of your teeth.

“I can take it,” he said softly.

Rage coursed through you at an uncontrollable speed. “You think I'm sparing you?” You let out a cold laugh, moments away from that savage, lethal switch, your power now stinging at your fingertips.

“I think you’re far from having faced the truth.”

A snarled escaped you, and you could feel your power surge, igniting your irises with a brilliant yellow. Had you not been so blind with anger, you might have realised this was exactly what Rhysand intended.

“It’s the truth you seek then?” you began. “How about the fact that you have plagued my heart with more hate than I ever believed possible. Shall I tell you of the shame that haunts me day and night that I let myself trust you for all these years? Or that I was naive enough to think I could find another family after Meryl’s death? But it would seem the only family I have is dead, and it has in fact always been that way. You broke me Rhys, you all broke me. I was a fool to have loved you so dearly, and ignorant to believe you ever loved me in the same way.”

Hot, angry tears streamed down your face, washing away the current that glowed in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your heart, you tried to smother the ache that throbbed at your confession. “You preach of a better court, one of choice and freedom and honour. But you snatched that away the moment it was mine for the taking.”

Rhys had kept his eyes on you, his face breaking with a little more sorrow at each sentence you spoke. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.” He waited a moment before placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Mother above cannot convey how sorry I am Y/N.”

You shook your head, tears welling and blurring your vision. It wasn't enough, you knew that, and Rhys knew it too.

His voice was even more gentle as he leaned forward. “I love you Y/N. Well all love you.”

Your voice was small now. “Not in the way I loved you. Not in the way family should love one another.”

“I disagree,” he countered. “You have to understand, as your High Lord, I would never send you to your death knowingly.”

“I wouldn't have died in vain,” you quietly, breaking his gaze with a flicker of shame. “All I ever wanted was a chance to make things right.”

You shocked yourself with the weight of your words, the extent of your willingness to avenge Meryl was something you hadn't even admitted to yourself. You would have died with content knowing you had at least tried to kill Alvar. But Rhys had seen that in you, well before you understood it for yourself. And together your family decided instead to keep you safe.

“I was hoping your motivation no longer overthrew your will to live,” Rhys admitted. With a deep sigh he cupped your chin in a parent-like way. “Look at me.” Whether you liked it or not, your eyes found his.

“Imagine I had taken the time to let you kill Alvar and instead he escaped, and innocent Velarians were hurt because of it – would you forgive me for putting your needs above their safety?”

Your eyes welled. “How could you ask me that Rhys?”

“I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just trying to show you the weight of the decision I had to make.” He offered you a broken smile, reaching to swipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. To your own surprise, you let him.

“That is not the only issue here.” Your voice was thick, your throat strained as you contained the sob that jerked within. “You’ve asked me to see it from your perspective, now please consider mine. You collectively decided that the mission would be kept a secret. You banded together to act dishonestly, knowing it would ruin me. How can I ever trust you again? How am I supposed to see you as my family?”

Rhys closed his eyes as his brows gave a painful tug, a deep breath pushing out through his nose. A large hand rested gently on your knee, his thumb swiping in a sympathetic way.

“I’ll admit Y/N – I knew that this would hurt you, but I never thought we’d lose you entirely.”

You sniffed. “Then you underestimated me.”

Rhys’s violet eyes found yours, sincerity and admiration shining in the stars that beheld them. “I did. I absolutely did.” He took another deep breath before speaking. “I’m a fool to have underestimated your loyalty, your dedication and your bravery. Over 500 years in existence, and I should have known that was never mine to control.”

You stared back at him, and while the ache in your heart was far from cured, a small sense of calm washed over you. It was relief you desperately needed – to finally be understood. “Thank you for saying that,” you croaked.

Rhys watched you with a pained smile. “I only want good things for you Y/N, wherever you choose to be. You will always have a home here if you want it, if you can ever forgive us for what we did.”

And in those words, a new well opened in your heart, one that you had not seen coming.

Hearing Rhys acknowledge your decision to leave the Night Court was devastating, so much so that your hand instinctively pressed agains your heart again. There would be no more fighting or pleading, no more fists thrown or cries of rage and confessions of love. He would let you go, because you had asked it. It was the least you deserved, yet it hurt in an entirely new way.

Ahead of you, the path of solitude lay clear. You had fought for it without any idea how painful it would be to take that first step. You couldn't help the sob that escaped you as you dropped your head to your hands.

“I never wanted to leave,” you admitted through ragged breaths.

Rhys bought a gentle hand to your back. “Then stay.”

“I can’t! I can’t stay here. I am so angry with you, all of you! And I don't think I’ll ever be strong enough to forgive this, not fully.” Your cries were uncontrollable as you tried to quiet them with your hands.

Rhys was stroking your hair as he said ever so softly. “I know.”

You sniffed, blinking up at your High Lord. “There’s nothing left for me here.” There was a cold bite to your words, even as you let him comfort you.

“I know,” he repeated with that same softness and understanding.

You watched him for a moment longer. Here he was, everything you needed in a High Lord – a leader and a friend, saying all the right things in all the right ways. But he was flawed, like anyone, and that flaw had been your downfall.

“I will be leaving Velaris tonight. Please, don't ask for my whereabouts. I need… I need a clean break.”

Rhys brow twitched before he nodded tightly. “You have my word.”

Gathering yourself, you stood to smooth your skirts before looking up at your High Lord for the final time. “I will miss Nyx dearly.”

Pain sliced across Rhysand’s face in a way you had never seen, tears immediately pricking at his violet eyes. He swallowed, containing himself still. “I wish it could have been any other way Y/N, truly.”

“As do I.”

And that was all that could be said. You turned from him, pacing towards the exit while casting your eyes to the magnificent array of stars, searing the Velarian night sky to memory as you admired its beauty for the final time.

“You must know!” Rhys spoke out, a hint of urgency in his tone. “It was fear Y/N. It was fear of losing you, not ever a lack of love.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you nodded once, a broken smile on your lips. “I know,” you spoke, biting back the quiver in your lip. “I know that now.”

And you let those words be your last at the Court of Night.

--------

Part 3>>>>

AN: Thank you so much for your patience with this, I hope you guys like it! ❤️

YES there will be a Part 3. Update: Part 3 is out. I’m super keen to explore how things go for the Reader in Spring Court, and maybe even weave in a little bit of redemption for a certain blondey?? Besides, there are still some things that have gone unsaid between the Reader and the boys... and she needs to figure out these powers! Watch this space 👀

Comment to my tag list (either general or for Our girl) 😊

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seafoamreadings · 1 month ago

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week of may 18th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: without getting too granular this is a big week for your sense of personal identity, and your connections with your close community are also highlighted. use this week to really build self esteem or self concept if there are any weaknesses there, because you will want that fortified in the months to come.

taurus: perks of this week include a sharp mind, sharp wit, etc, and also some financial blessings if you set your intentions right around the new moon. the end of the week ushers saturn into aries which is a very good news/bad news situation for you, but more on that later. for now, be open to lots of shadow work even if it's messy.

gemini: the type of insights and downloads you get this week do not come from books or formal study or even from aimlessly browsing the internet or scrolling your phone. this is divine flashes of genius with no logical thread attached and you might not even notice them until later.

cancerians: any last minute aesthetic or fun updates to your public image should be made before saturday. saturn is heading for your 10th house and he's not that into these types of frivolity. a new moon around that time also brings potentially feelings of malaise, so prepare to mitigate that ahead of time.

leo: with your ruling luminary heading into gemini shortly, and then promptly participating in a new moon, focus intentions and goals on your social circles. if you're still working on career or legacy upgrades, this can mean your work network, but this can just as well mean friends, acquaintances, or dates. helpful people abound.

virgo: you're no stranger to the gut-brain axis and this week's transits remind you of it, just in case you were forgetting. start the week with the ceres-neptune conjunction really caring for the body - the viscera, the guts. you can get intellectual about it all later in the week, because then the astrology really supports it, but if you don't dive deep into your physical needs and the mind of your entrails first, you're more inclined to anxiety and overthinking later, which is a lot less fun than your alternatives.

libra: gemini season and its accompanying new moon herald an enjoyable, intellectual, and communcationally balanced period *but* - i'm so sorry there's a catch - saturn into your 7th house and his sign of fall is not super fun for relationship-oriented librans. fun little affairs and dalliances are as likely as ever but commitment? not so much. it's not impossible - saturn does grant staying power. but relationships that were not pre-existing will have a hard time getting off the ground. on the bright side, any skeletal or dental issues or stuckness in your daily routines are likely to start easing off from saturday onward.

scorpio: relationship conversations are likely to take strange turns. avoid it if you can't handle the potential of change, but remember that without change nothing ever happens! bonus points if you use this week to care for your literal bones and teeth. it sounds weird, but saturn is getting ready to move into your 6th house and you definitely don't want those things messing up your routine later.

sagittarius: gemini season and a gemini new moon bring fresh starts to relationships, if you are interested in securing commitments. if you are not, get that out of your system early this week! saturn is heading for aries and he can put a real damper on light airy flings. *even* for your vibrant 5th house.

capricorn: this is saturn's last week in pisces before moving into your 4th house. that has huge ancestry vibes for you or at least family secrets pertaining to your more recent family of origin. at the same time if you are seeking a roommate, *next* week starts a good time to look and if you are needing to get out on your own, you could start looking then too.

aquarius: airy vibes benefit you in many ways - especially if you are looking to have more fun/less stress. you do have to like, actually do the fun things, but the ability to do them arises more easily now. from saturday onward saturn leaves your second house which can also ease up money problems if you've had them.

pisces: gemini activity this week makes it a good time to straighten up household or family-of-origin-related matters. it is also the last week of saturn in your sign (although, note that a retrograde brings him back in september for a bit.)

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

#astrology #horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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obvithe-bestsoph · 3 months ago

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the most impatient patient.

masterlist requests word count: 4.3k

a/n: this took so long and i just know it's gonna flop omg 😭 i hope you enjoy! it's another one that has the possibility for chapter two, but it also works on its own. let me know! genre: kinda angsty but not really, fluff? warnings: a singular swear word, pedri has low self esteem for some parts but nothing graphic, grumpy pedri.

You pull into the area you’ve been told to park in and take a few deep breaths before getting out after shutting the engine off. Here you are, your first day at your dream job. The pristine grounds of Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper are bathed in the early morning Barcelona sun, making the whole place seem even more special. The four years you had been spent studying physiotherapy, you had been dreaming of today. And now it’s here. Mierda.

It’s ridiculously exciting, but also, there’s a lot of pressure on you. Being one of the youngest of the physiotherapy staff, just 22 years old, but now a part of one of the most important and relied upon medical teams in European football. And being the youngest comes with the added pressure of having to prove yourself to the seniors of the physio team as well.

One of the seniors, Pablo, actually comes out to meet you in the carpark so he can show you where to go. You spend most of the morning just shadowing him and other more experienced physios until Pablo comes to you as you’re taking a coffee break, a clipboard in his hand.

“Good news, you’ve already got your first patient.” he smiles and hands you the clipboard, briefing you a little as you look over it.

“You’ll be looking after Pedri’s recovery sessions from this afternoon onwards, his injury isn’t too serious, some muscle issues in the quad, but he’s out of action, and he’ll be your main and only patient for the next few weeks until he’s back out on the pitch again,” Pablo explains.

Pedri González. The Pedri González as you’re first ever patient. Talk about throwing you in the deep end.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve watched him on TV, and seen him in action a few times, moving across the field in a way that almost makes it look easy, getting through defenders like they aren’t even there. Now, he’s your responsibility. Just thinking about it makes your stomach flip. You nod and smile at Pablo who leaves you with the clipboard and walks off again. It’s gonna be a big day.

When you enter the recovery room at 3 PM, the scheduled appointment time, Pedri is already there, sitting on the treatment table with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. His dark hair is damp from what you can assume to be a shower, and he looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and slight frustration.

“Are you my new therapist?” he asks. His tone is polite but distant, clearly he’d rather be anywhere else.

You take a deep breath and nod, forcing confidence into your voice. “That’s me. My name’s Y/N… you seem to be a very impatient patient, relax a little, sí?” you introduce yourself with a smile.

His lips twitch ever so slightly, like he’s trying not to smile at the little comment, but he doesn’t argue against it either. “I hate sitting out,” he murmurs, flexing his upper leg, “I feel fine. I could probably even train tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, glancing at his file on the clipboard you had been given. Minor muscle strain, it’s nothing serious, but rushing recovery could make it worse.

“Yeah, you think you feel now, but if you push yourself too hard, too soon, you’ll be out for way longer than necessary,” you reply firmly, crossing your arms too, “And I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy that. So, a few weeks of careful rehab, or even longer than that watching from the sidelines?”

He huffs at your words but for the first time since you walked in, he really looks at you. There’s a hint of something in those brown eyes of his, respect, maybe? Or maybe he’s just surprised that you’re not intimated by him or put off by his slight grumpiness.

Pedri exhales, relenting. “Fine, but only if you make this as un-boring as possible.” You smirk slightly, grabbing some massage balm off the shelf, “I think I could make that happen.”

Pedri’s recovery sessions begin the next morning, and from the second he walks in, it’s obvious he already hates this.

Although his expression doesn’t show much, his body language pretty much speaks for itself. His shoulders are tensed, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his training shorts, and when he sits on the treatment table, he bounces his knees up and down impatiently. He clearly doesn’t want to be here, he’d much rather be out on the pitch, with a ball at his feet. Something which you decide is fair enough.

“You’re early,” you note, putting your things down next to your desk before sitting down and turning on the computer, looking over his file once more and then standing up to get the resistance bands out.

The man simply shrugs a little, “My mamá taught me it’s rude to be late. Plus, the sooner we start, the sooner I’m back.”

You sigh, already knowing this is going to be a difficult process. Athletes hate being told to slow down. Their whole lives revolve around this sport that they love so much, and now, they have to spend weeks, or however long, doing exercises and taking things carefully.

In Pedri’s eyes, you’re the person standing between him and the game he loves. He’s so fed up with injuries that he just wants to be back and be back for good.

“That depends,” you reply, kneeling beside him to check how much he can comfortably move the muscle, “If you actually listen to me, we’ll get you back faster. If you ignore my instructions, we might as well cancel your next couple of games now.”

It’s silent for a moment before Pedri gives you a look, one that’s half amused and half skeptical. Just like the previous afternoon, something flickers in his eyes - surprise. Maybe he expected you to be quiet, and easily pushed to the side. But you aren’t here to be ignored. You’re here to get him back on his game and stay on it.

Starting with a few simple stretching exercises, guiding him as he goes, it’s not long before you notice that he’s doing literally everything with a bare minimum level of effort like he’s pushing the boundaries to see how little he can get away with.

“You’re holding back.” you huff, watching his form. Pedri smirks ever so slightly and shrugs, “Maybe you’re just making it too easy.”

“Oh, really? Is that what it is? Let’s make it harder then, superestrella.”

You change his band to an even tighter one, challenging his stability, and it only takes a few moments before he’s actually working. The cocky attitude he had put on just minutes ago disappears as he really focuses, muscles tense, breathing controlled and calm.

On a particularly tough set, you watch his jaw tick in frustration and you gently stop him to take a break.

“I know you’re used to winning,” you say, handing him a water bottle, “but sometimes you have to have to lose a few times before you can win. You know the saying, there has to be rain for there to be a rainbow?” “Yeah, but I hate losing. It’s not really my thing.” “Then let’s win this recovery, hm?” Pedri looks up at you again, something shifting in the air - it’s small but important. In this moment, he realises that maybe you aren’t just another therapist, but instead, someone he can trust.

Throughout the next few weeks, Pedri’s morning and afternoon rehab sessions become apart of your routine. You see him nearly every day, working through various stretching drills, resistance training and strength exercises. His progress is moving along nicely, but he has very little patience.

“You’re holding me back,” he grumbles one afternoon after you gave him a firm instruction to ‘slow down’.

“No, I’m making you don’t hurt it more. Yes, you’re an elite athlete, but you’re not a superhero. Your body needs time, and if you want it to keep serving you to the level you need it to, you have to respect that.”

He breathes out harshly, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I just feel useless sitting out on so much training and so many matches.”

You stop for a minute, simply watching him. He hasn’t admitted how much this is weighing on him before. You can hardly imagine what it’s like, the fans and media constantly talking, the expectations, the pressure to always perform at the highest level. No one likes being injured, but for Pedri, it’s more than frustration. It’s almost some sort of insecurity.

“You aren’t useless,” you say in a gentler tone, “you’re in rehab. Injuries and physio is a part of being a footballer just as much as playing is.”

And he listens. He doesn’t say anything else, or even smile, but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s grateful for your words.

Since that afternoon, there’s been a lot less tension between the two of you. He stops arguing and fighting everything, instead starting to trust your process more. The way you do things is a lot different to any physios he’s had in the past, so he’s hoping maybe your new approach will help with this constant battle he seems to be having with injuries.

One morning, during a particularly intense session, he slumps back against the may and closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “This is torture.” You chuckle, “No, it’s progress.” “Laughing while I’m basically dying over here makes it seem like you enjoy watching me suffer.” he groans.

“Maybe a little. But that’s only because I know it’s working.”

He opens one eye and smiles at you, a real smile. Not the usual polite, almost ‘media’ smile he usually gives.

One evening, you both stayed later than usual and despite the fact that the session is over, he isn’t at all in a rush to leave.

“Did you always want to do this?” he asks out of the blue, fiddling with a resistance band. “Physiotherapy?” You nod, pausing your tidying. “Yeah. I wanted to help athletes recover. There’s something rewarding about it, you know?”

“Why a physio though? Why not a doctor? Or a coach?” You laugh softly, “I like being the person that keeps people at their best you know, not just watching from the sidelines.” He puts the band down, and looks up at you as you continue moving around, packing things away and wiping down equipment. “I guess I’m in good hands then.”

You can’t figure out what it is, but there’s something about the way he said it like he was inadvertently saying that he trusted you.

He said his good night, collected his stuff up and left the gym. The room is silent again, and you start to realise something dangerous.

You’re starting to care about him.

A few days after that rather tough session, the air between the two of you feels different. It’s a subtle change, but your conversation are not just about football and recovery now. There’s some sort of casual friendliness there. Now, when he comes in in the mornings, you usually greet him with a smile, getting one back and making a few jokes here and there, without the strict physio and patient tension.

That afternoon, having just finished some strengthening exercises, Pedri looked out the window at the gloomy clouds hanging over the pitches outside. “Looks like it’s going to rain, " he said.

Glancing at your watch you nod, “I saw that on the weather this morning, good thing we’ve finished a little earlier than usual then, hm?”

He collects up his bag, but doesn’t leave yet, “I was thinking of walking home, but I suppose it’s not exactly the nicest condition outside.” You look up and outside as well, the rain now pouring heavily, “I can drive you?” you offer casually, typing away at his file.

He turns around, clearly surprised. “Really? It’s probably out of your way. Are you sure?”

Switching off the computer, you turn around on your swivelling stool and stand up, “I’m sure. I’ve been meaning to try and leave earlier anyway.”

The car ride feels relaxed and comfortable, when it goes quiet, it isn’t tense or awkward but more just comfortable and open. Pedri talks a little about his past experiences recovering from injuries, how much he hates being away from the game, and the constant pressure that comes from being such a high-performing athlete.

“You know, sometimes, I kinda just wish I was ‘normal’ again, you know?” he admits quietly, gaze fixed on the raindrops that slowly make their way down the window. “Like, I could go out somewhere without people noticing me or taking photos.” “That’s fair enough,” you sympathise, “it must be hard living the way all you football players do.” He chuckles slightly, “Sometimes not exactly all it’s cracked up to be, no.”

It goes quiet again.

“I really appreciate you driving me, you know. It was stupid of me not to check the weather before deciding to walk today.” you see his head turn to look you out of the corner of your eye.

You nod, a silent ‘you’re welcome’, and surprisingly, he speaks up again. “You’re actually, uh, pretty cool to hang out with, you know?” his voice is a bit softer and a bit shyer than before. Your smile grows. “Thanks, Pedri, you’re, um… pretty cool too.”

The days pass as usual, and you and Pedri’s relationship continues to change. You know a decent amount about how he got here, and what he’s like outside of football, all about his dog and his family and many other random bits and pieces. At first, it was subtle jokes and smiles, him opening up about how he’s feeling about physio and the pressure he feels in everyday life. But one thing’s for sure, it’s getting harder and harder to keep it 100% professional around him.

It’s been a long day of strength exercises and Pedri leans against the wall, drinking water, his body clearly having worked hard today. The banter that you’ve become used to isn’t there, the air is almost… tense, and you’re waiting up on his terms.

“Do you ever get tired?” you look at him, his expression unreadable and tone quieter than usual.

Surprised by the question, you raise an eyebrow. “Tired of what?” “Of all this,” he gestures around the small gym, “of being around players with patience thinner than a spider’s web, of the constant pressure of trying to fix everyone else.”

You’re caught off guard because that was definitely not what you were expecting him to ask. But despite your surprise, he stares at you, waiting for an answer.

“I guess I don’t really think about it in that way,” you admit. “I kinda just focus on doing my job, but I can see how some people might find it stressful.”

He nods, the unreadable expression turning into a small smile. “You’re good at it - helping people, that is.”

Your expression changes to somewhat surprised, and you chuckle, unsure how to respond, but you don’t have to, because he speaks up again. “I mean, you’re always so calm and focused, even when I’m being an impatient dickhead.”

His words settle for a minute before you realise that maybe he also doesn’t just see you as his physio anymore, but instead as someone who genuinely wants the best for him.

“Well,” you start, taking a deep breath to think about what you’re going to say, “it’s not always easy, but I try.”

Pedri’s face softens. “You make it look easy.”

The gym falls silent for a few moments, neither of you really knows what to say. Instead, Pedri just moves to start collecting up his things and you go back to wiping down the bench he had been using. You feel a gentle hand being placed on your shoulder from behind. “Gracias, Y/N. See you in the morning.” Pedri smiles, removing his hand once you turn your head and show him your attention, but just give him a quick “Adios.” before turning around again, hiding your pink face.

That night, lying in bed, you stare up at the ceiling, just thinking. What if the lines between patient and… something else have already started to blur? And how much longer can you pretend you haven’t noticed?

On the Monday of the next week, Pedri arrives at the morning session without a smile, instead, it’s an expression of his that you’ve become familiar with, frustration, masked as indifference. He doesn’t speak much and just goes through the motions of rehab, but the focus he’d gained in the past couple weeks isn’t there, and his movements are more careless than usual. Something’s up with him, and you don’t miss it.

“Something on your mind?” you ask, careful to keep your tone neutral.

He grumbles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Just a rough weekend.” Instead of pushing, you just let him go through the routine, but the more he does, the more irritated he seems to get. His patience is running even thinner than usual. His last straw is when he messes up a simple drill, throwing the resistance band on the floor in front of him and mumble curses under his breath.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you say, crossing your arms. “Talk to me. What on earth is going on with you?”

Attempting to not yell, cry, or throw something else, Pedri runs a hand through his hair. The muscle in his jaw ticks, and he snaps back at you. “You really want to know?” His voice is even sharper than usual, his anger clear. “I’m sick of this. Sick of feeling so genuinely unhelpful to the team. Sick of the way people talk about me like I’m some broken thing that needs fixing.”

You take a step closer, and speak in a firm tone. “Pedro, look at me.”

His brown eyes flick up to your face.

“No one thinks you’re broken.”

He gives you a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Come on, you see it too. More than anyone else. You just don’t say it.” The way he looks at you as if he’s challenging you to tell him he’s wrong, makes your heart ache. You’ve seen athletes break under pressure before, but this is different. This is something personal inside him.

You sit down on the mat next to him, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re frustrated, I get it,” you say softly, looking into his eyes once more, “But this? This isn’t about your injury, is it?”

His expression falters. He looks away, sighing heavily, his shoulder sagging forward like he’s too exhausted to keep up the front anymore.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, “Just, everything that’s usually so simple and easy feels so out of my control. And the only time I feel properly like myself at the moment is here. With you.”

His words are definitely unexpected, and they hit you hard. Your heart stumbles in your chest and for a moment, you don’t know what to say at all. Pedri doesn’t look away this time, not trying to hide or cover up what he said. Unsure of how to comfort him, you just pull him into your side for a hug.

The truth is hanging in the air now.And the scariest part? You don’t quite know what to do with it.

You know you should say something, anything, but your brain is muddled, your heart confused.

You look down at him, his head resting on your chest, those beautiful brown eyes already looking up at you. “Pedri…” you start, but hesitate, because what do you even say? You’ve spent weeks keeping a fairly professional distance, attempting to convince yourself that whatever flickered between the two of you was just a passing moment, just a small moment formed through the fact that you have been spending so much time with each other.

He sighs, shaking his head, sitting up straight again, “You don’t have to say anything, I just-” he pauses, running a hand over his face, “I just needed to be honest.; Because whatever this is, it’s been messing with my head, and I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.” Your heart pounds. He’s told you his side, and now he’s leaving it up to you to decide what happens next. Your logical brain tells you to shut it down. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re the physio, he’s the patient, messing with that could make a lot of things a hell of a lot more complicated.

But there’s another part of you, the one that remembers every time you caught him staring at you, every time you felt your cheeks turn pink from him smiling when he walked in, how butterflies appear in your stomach every time he touches you.

“You’re not imagining things,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snaps up, eyes looking into yours, a flicker of relief in his expression.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s simple,” you add quickly. “You know that, right?”

Pedri nods, “I know. But I don’t really care, honestly.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You should.” “I can’t,” he admits. “Because when I’m around you, it’s one of the only times I feel like I’m not just ‘Pedri, the player’. And if I lose that… then I’m trapped as Pedri the player all the time, and I don’t want that for myself.”

Your chest tightens at his honesty. He’s not kidding around and bantering now. He’s not asking for something causal either. He’s telling you his feelings, trusting you with something that not many other people get to see.

For the first time, you allow yourself to really think of him in a way that is more than a patient. It’s terrifying. It’s complicated. But it’s honest, and it’s real.

And you don’t think you can ignore it anymore.

The air is thick with tension, and Pedri’s words continue to echo through your head, your own confession feeling like a weight lifted and a burden gained all at once.

You know what you should say. ‘This can’t happen. This is too unprofessional, too complicated, too risky.’ You should remind him that your job is to help him recover, not to fall for him.

But then you look at him. The way his dark hair sits so perfectly, his tanned skin, the stubble that covers his cheeks, chin and upper lip, his long eyelashes, and those brown eyes. They’re always the killer.

“Pedri…” You take a slow, deep breath, trying to calm yourself, “If we do this, we have to be careful.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, surprised. “So you’re saying..?”

You hesitate, but there’s no point in denying it now. “I’m saying that I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel this anymore.” For a second, he just stares at you, like he’s making sure he heard you right. Then, his mouth slowly grows into that smile, the one that you’ve spent far too long pretending didn’t affect you.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs, shifting closer.

You shake your head, trying to keep your thoughts straight despite the heat spreading through your body. “This is going to be complicated.” “I really don’t care.” “You really should. This is technically wrong, you know. I’m not meant to have ‘romantic interactions with patients.’”

“Maybe, but I don’t.” His voice is steady and certain. “I’ve spent the last few weeks learning how to be patient, how to take things one step at a time. This?” He gestures between the two of you. “This is no different.”

You laugh breathily once more, despite the mess in your head. “You’re comparing us to his recovering.” He grins, a proper grin, and it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in over a fortnight. “If it works, it works.” You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. How did a professional relationship turn into late-night thoughts of him, lingering glances, and this undeniable thing you’ve finally acknowledged?

You both stand up, and Pedri’s closes the distance between the two of you, pulling you against him by the waist.

This is the moment you stop fighting it. It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, watching you carefully like he’s waiting for you to take it all back, change your mind, and shove him away. But you don’t, and he speaks again. “I don’t care how complicated this is. I just want to be with you.”

His genuine words make you shiver because you feel the same way. You have done for a while now, but you were always too cautious to admit it. He gives you another chance to pull away, but once again, you don’t. He closes the distance completely, resting his forehead against yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you realise this isn’t just about desire - but instead everything you’ve been holding back.

“You’re really bad at keeping things professional,” he teases playfully, his voice low as he looks into your eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re the one who confessed first.”

“Yeah, but you let me,” he points out, grinning.

You roll your eyes although you don’t argue. Because the truth is, you don’t regret letting him. Not at all.

There’s so much to figure out, so many conversations to have, rules to work around and risks to consider. But right now? None of that matters.

Right now, all that matters is his soft lips against yours.

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez fic #pedri fic #obvithebestsoph!pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x reader #fc barcelona #fanfiction #football #football fic #culer #PG8

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hybriddhthepoet · 5 months ago

Text

Feral Facade

By HybridDH, Art by ghosty_entity https://x.com/ghosty_entity?s=21

For them, I am merely a sheep in wolf’s clothing,

Projecting a toughness, this facade I’m loathing.

Behind the fierce mask, where my vulnerabilities hide,

My essence ebbs when watched, in shadows I confide.

Unseen, I am meek; the disguise dissolves with the light,

Just another timid creature lost in fright.

But let your gaze fall upon me, witness the transformation stark,

I morph into the guise of the wolf, fierce and dark.

Vicious, they whisper, oh, how vicious I seem,

Yet inside, my spirit is not keen on this theme.

I yearn to be gentle, to soothe rather than scare,

A soul that craves kindness, fragile and bare.

Trapped in this role, the wolf’s snarl I unwillingly wear,

A costume fashioned from despair, a burdensome affair.

I roar and I rage, not out of genuine ferocity,

But from fear, a response to imposed animosity.

Beneath this rugged exterior, where my true emotions dwell,

I am not the creature of nightmares they compel.

Hidden too long behind a facade of bravado and roar,

I’ve become estranged from myself, down to the core.

The mask that began as a shield to protect my gentle heart,

Has fused to my being, tearing my identity apart.

No longer can I tell where my true self ends,

Trapped in a performance that my survival depends.

Here I stand, draped in the wolf’s dark hide,

Each snarl a plea for help I must confide.

Dreaming of the day when I can cast aside this guise,

To reveal the gentle truth, free from these lies.

Caught in this relentless dance of pretense and fear,

Year after year, the mask adhered.

A sheep clad in wolf’s attire, a prisoner of my own façade,

Aching for escape, for a life unflawed.

Summoning the quiet valor that true bravery requires,

To transcend the howls, the undesired fires.

For now, I don the mask that they all see,

Hoping for a day when I am finally free.

In this haunted masquerade, where fear plays its part,

I seek the courage to unmask my heart.

A sheep in wolf’s clothing, worn and weary from the show,

Yearning for release, for a place where I can truly grow.

Through the crowd, my guise remains intact,

A shield against the world, a binding pact.

But inside, the struggle rages, a silent war,

A battle between who I am and what I abhor.

Each day, the mask feels heavier, harder to bear,

A constant reminder of the double life I wear.

Yet, I maintain the facade, keep up the charade,

In hopes that someday, my fears will fade.

As I navigate through life, a chameleon changing hue,

Adapting to surroundings, obscuring the true view.

But deep down, I long for a moment so pure,

Where I can live unmasked, secure and sure.

The road is long, the journey taxing and vast,

Each step forward shadowed by the echoes of the past.

Yet, I forge onward, through the veil of night,

Guided by a faint, yet enduring light.

For in the depths of despair, a spark still glows,

A stubborn resilience that steadily grows.

And though cloaked in the skin of a creature so wild,

Beneath lies the heart of a meek, unspoiled child.

So I carry on, through the masquerade grand,

A solitary figure on a stage so bland.

In hopes that one day, the curtains will part,

Revealing the truth of my hidden heart.

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firestorm09890 · 5 months ago

Note

hi can you tell me about limbus company specifically about don quixote and sancho. i’m trying to piece it together from context clues but i’m not doing well. basically as you may know i’m a huge mili fan and i’ve just been wanting to understand the context behind the song hero so i can appreciate it better

OMG I WOULD BE HONORED TO so the first thing you need to know is that Project Moon worldbuilding is a massive beast. There will be stuff I leave out because it's not entirely relevant to Hero, but I'll do the best I can to both explain everything and keep it "short".

...Not short enough that it can stay without a readmore.

The first thing you need to know is that most of the time in fandom, the name Don Quixote refers to this person

She is extremely passionate about justice and is described as someone who appears to be playing the role of a righteous knight.

Other important information here is that every playable character in Limbus Company has an icon

an associated emoji (🎠), an associated color (Oblivion Yellow; it's just the yellow above but the word Oblivion is important), an associated phrase ("To reach the unreachable star!"), and this thing called a personal EGO, which is basically a special attack that comes from the self or something. Don Quixote's is called "La Sangre de Sancho" and consists of her shouting "Onwards, Rocinante! Justice will prevail!", running at the enemy and stabbing a lance made of blood into them. Rocinante is the name of her shoes, but it was also the name of Don Quixote's horse in the book. This is what the art for that EGO attack looks like.

Lots of posters, she's playing dolls, you can ignore the barbed wire and bars on the windows because that's part of every personal EGO but you do not have to ignore the scary skeleton horse shadow or the fact that outside the window is a carousel where instead of horses, there are people impaled on sticks. This will all make sense later.

This is Sancho. She is the same person as the Don Quixote from above.

With Sancho, you might see someone else named Don Quixote, who looks like this

This white-haired man is the Don Quixote I will be referring to up until the yellow-haired girl takes his name.

Once upon a time, probably hundreds or even thousands of years ago, there was this vampire (henceforth called a "bloodfiend") named Don Quixote. He pulls inspiration from the literary Don Quixote but only some. He lived in a castle in the middle of nowhere by himself until the weight of his bloodthirst got to him and he went to go make some kindred to alleviate the pain (bloodfiends can each turn two people max into other bloodfiends, after that they kinda just become shambling zombies made of blood; the more generations a bloodfiend "family" has, the more spread out the collective bloodthirst gets, so it's in a bloodfiend's best interest to turn others). The first of Don Quixote's kindred was a woman named Sancho, who he found kinda just letting herself die in a ditch. He asked her to join him, and she accepted.

In Don Quixote, Sancho was Don Quixote's squire, who got roped into it by the promise that he would get an island to be the governor of. There's this whole thing in the book about Don Quixote's delusions becoming slightly more realistic as the story passes, while Sancho's ideals trended the opposite way. This will be important I promise.

Don Quixote made another kindred, and that kindred went on to make a bunch of other kindreds until there was a whole huge bloodfiend family living together in that castle in the middle of nowhere. Sancho was unusual for a bloodfiend, having no interest in making kindred herself and being far more skeptical of Don Quixote's whims than any bloodfiend (or squire) should be (they have an instinct to never go against the bloodstream). She was cold and distant from the rest of her family, except for DQ.

One day! A human knight appeared at the door! In the beginning Don Quixote didn't want her there but then she sparred against him to a draw (bloodfiends are EXTREMELY powerful, more powerful than humans) which made him gain a little bit of respect for her. This knight, Bari (not a character in Don Quixote, she has other shit going on), started regaling Don Quixote with tales of Fixers, humans in The City (Limbus Company's main setting) who are... essentially mercenaries but with class- once again a whole thing but essentially she got him thinking about knights and adventurers. She did this to inspire him to take the side of humans in a war against bloodfiends that was happening elsewhere, which he does. Sancho, who thinks Bari's stories are stupid and this interest is foolhardy, stands by his side in battle.

...But wait! Over time, Sancho too grows interested in Bari's stories, though she refuses to admit it. At one point Bari tells Don Quixote about amusement parks, which gets him thinking "waow maybe if we make an amusement park, my family of bloodfiends can coexist with humans!"

It was a lovely idea, and DQ and one of his lower kindred crafted this cool new thing called "hemobars" which were like a little bit of blood mixed with a bunch of other stuff to make a brick bloodfiends could eat to satisfy their need for blood. Guests would pay at the door in blood, and they would be made into hemobars to distribute to the bloodfiend family, who runs the amusement park.

Surprise surprise, the hemobars were not enough, and the family was getting restless. They wanted to drink blood so badly, but they couldn't go against Don Quixote's wishes because he's the patriarch. So, knowing that he was really into collecting cool artifacts, a few of the bloodfiends came up with a plan to even the playing field. They told him about the Helm of Mambrino, which makes anyone who wears it be perceived as being on the exact same level as those perceiving them, so they would be able to rebel against him (they did not tell him any of this aside from it being a cool helm). A wonderful adventure! And due to Sancho's interest in the knight stuff, the family did not tell her about the plan, and Don Quixote took her with him as his squire.

They did adventure stuff, at some point Don Quixote turned a pair of shoes he got into a powerful artifact named Rocinante that will be important later. Don Quixote wants Sancho to get into the spirit of things, Sancho says it's ridiculously juvenile but tries to speak like she's in Shakespeare anyways, it's all great. They get the helm.

And then when they get back to the amusement park, everything's in shambles. Bloodfiends eating people. Don Quixote, who presumably can't take off the helm because it's cursed or something, seals the entirety of the park off (he can do that because he made it out of his own blood. it's normal), trapping everyone inside so they can't hurt more humans, but...

He orders Sancho to leave first. She was wearing the shoes at the time and those shoes take her away even though she doesn't want to go and there's lots of screaming and crying and it's horribly tragic.

Super depressed, she asks Bari to take her to Lethe, the River of Oblivion, a magic river that will wipe her memories. There's this whole thing about how drinking from the river hones some of your thoughts into a mad obsession which is only a tad relevant (correction: turns out this is a different tributary of the one big river. Lethe is also a tributary. she just glanced at this one, mirae-mirae, and actually drank from lethe) She loses her memories and goes to live alone in a lighthouse in the vast outskirts surrounding the City.

I'm so sorry this was entirely backstory so far.

Cut to 200 years later, Sancho has been basically playing dolls by herself this whole time. Her obsession focuses entirely on Fixers, the sorts of heroes her father (oh yeah that's how bloodfiends work, the guy who turned her is her father now) used to love. She's silly now! She's believing the posters are talking to her! She doesn't know about the unglamorous, "hired mercenary" part of Fixer life, believing everything they do is for justice. After 200 years, this guy shows up to recruit her for Limbus Company and she accepts- at this point, she's forgotten her name, but she also hasn't taken off Rocinante, and who's name is written on Rocinante? ...Why, Don Quixote, of course! So she takes the name Don Quixote for herself.

In Limbus Company (company) she's extremely loud and passionate and will rush forward to fight for justice which causes problems for the team more than once. But the thing about Limbus Company is that everyone on the LCB team has to face their past for their mission to collect these things called Golden Boughs, and her turn eventually comes up. Coincidentally, the amusement park her father built has reappeared in the middle of the City, and it's luring people in.

She goes into this mission completely unaware of its connection to her, even as people recognize her and one guy actively tries to remind her of her past. In fact, she's extremely enthusiastic about vanquishing bloodfiends for their evil deeds. Eventually, though, there are circumstances that lead her to a point where she can't turn away subconsciously anymore, and she dismounts Rocinante (read: takes off her shoes)

The thing about Rocinante is that they have been binding her bloodfiend traits this entire time, and because she was wearing them when she drank from the river, taking them off means she remembers everything. And then she sees her father, the original Don Quixote, who, at this point, has been stabbed with thousands of stakes and is sort of merged with the ferris wheel and the Golden Bough that Limbus Company seeks is stabbed into him as well, which is a whole nother can of worms we don't need to get into

Okay at this point Sancho declares her 200 years as Don Quixote to be a dream that has ended. She fucks off to go be with her father in the center of the dungeon that's formed due to the Golden Bough, and the LCB team, the rest of our protagonists, chase her. A few other things happen but she's mostly bitter and sad.

Old Don Quixote, in his 200 years of being trapped with his starving bloodfiend kindred who have stabbed him a thousand times, has decided that his dream is dead too. There is no way humans and bloodfiends can coexist. The amusement park would have never worked. What's important now is that he feeds his family.

Unfortunately, the LCB's other objective aside from obtaining the Golden Bough is to apprehend the creator of the amusement park- Don Quixote. Sancho, ever loyal, stands in their way. There's this really long battle and whole sequence where they eventually break through to her- they remind her she's never been alone (Bari, the knight, was answering every single letter Sancho wrote to her Fixer idols. don't ask how she's still around), they remind her that the dream is still alive, and even though her father no longer believes in it, it really did become hers. Sancho struggles with the idea that the past 200 years was just a dream- even though she remembers everything from before that now, she can't just forget what she did then. That was also her. There's a cool part of her battle theme where her introductory line from the beginning of the game is incorporated into the music but cuts off before she can say her name. Anyway eventually she decides she'll give moving on with her new friends, the LCB, a chance.

Which means now she's standing against the original Don Quixote. This is the battle where Hero plays. I wish I could get into battle mechanics but that would make this explanation wayyyyy too long. He fights them all, and he's so powerful that eventually he almost kills all of them (including the narrator, who revives all the others; if they die, it's over for good), but Sancho stands in his way. They do an awesome anime clash, with Sancho using an upgraded version of her personal EGO (there is a qte. this game does not do qtes. it's supposed to represent her no longer galloping alone on Rocinante, but together) and Sancho wins. Everything that happens after is no longer relevant to Hero but I'll tell you anyway, as Don Quixote lays dying, he dissolves the amusement park (literally. into blood rain), Sancho cries over him, decides to put back on Rocinante and become the "new" Don Quixote, the one the dream will live on within.

WITH THAT CONTEXT GO FORTH!!!

Also the boss fight itself is long as fuck so the mix made to emulate the in-game experience is 23 minutes long but I can show you the cutscene featuring the final clash (only 2 minutes long), which starts from the line "Stand up, gallop on" and is so fucking awesome and imo seeing what's happening during "I am my biggest fan, I am my biggest fan" is peak

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This is the in-game mix if you want it lmao

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#limbus company #project moon #canto vii spoilers #don quixote #sancho #alonso quijano #ask #I'm so sorry it's so long...... but limbus company is part visual novel #I hope it makes sense I only proofread this post once #oh my god did I seriously write glamorous instead of unglamorous #whoops

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