#so I'd rather make these by hand with all my blood sweat and tears and spend that money on the artist alley instead :D

[milkmemes]

ANGST LEVELS

Below are a series of sentence starters and actions that vary in levels of angst. Level one being the least angsty, all the way to level five being the most. (TW: Abuse, Violence, Blood)

Level One Sentence Starters ❛ I'm just disappointed. ❜ ❛I'm scared. ❜ ❛Please just trust me. ❜ ❛Why don't you trust me? ❜ ❛What do you mean by that? ❜ ❛...But you never had a problem with it before. ❜ ❛I shouldn't be here. ❜ ❛You shouldn't be here. ❜ ❛Why are you so stubborn? ❜ ❛Just look at me. ❜ ❛How long does this have to go on for? ❜ ❛I can't sleep. ❜ ❛I hate seeing you like this ❜ ❛Just hang on, okay? ❜ ❛It's okay to cry ❜ ❛I wanted to apologize. ❜ ❛Not everyone is going to hurt you. ❜ ❛Please don't misunderstand. ❜ ❛Have you been crying? ❜ ❛Tears? Seriously? ❜ ❛You're crying? How pathetic are you? ❜ ❛It's okay. Go ahead and cry, I'm right here. ❜ ❛You didn't have to be so rude about it ... ❜ ❛Stay away from me! ❜ ❛Why would you go back to her? ❜ ❛Why would you go back to him? ❜ ❛Why would you go back to them? ❜ ❛ Are you even listening to me?❜ ❛Stop acting like it's not a big deal, you're bleeding! ❜ ❛You never take me seriously! ❜ ❛I don't like you because you always do shit like this! ❜ ❛I'm just trying to help you! ❜ ❛Let me clean your wounds ... ❜ ❛It's late, why are you calling?❜ ❛How many times have I told you not to go there?❜ ❛Are you sure you're okay? ❜ ❛Liar! ❜ ❛ You think you know me? You don’t know anything. ❜ ❛ Why didn’t you fight for me? Why didn’t you fight for us? ❜ ❛ You were always the golden child. But you know what? I was the one who needed you. ❜ ❛ You never saw me. Not really. ❜

Level One Actions [APOLOGIZE] - Sender apologizes to receiver before passing out. [STAGGER] - Sender starts to stagger while they walk with receiver and eventually starts to fall. [SHIVER] - Receiver notices Sender won't stop shivering, even though it isn't cold outside. [OUCH] - Receiver notices Sender subtly wince whenever they accidentally touch them somewhere. [PANIC] - Receiver begins to have a severe panic attack. [FEVER] - Sender is visibly feverish, sweating buckets and still denying to Receiver that they are sick and need to rest. [WAITING] – Receiver waits all night for Sender to show. They never do. [NUMBERS] – Receiver notices Sender has been crossing out calendar dates with shaky hands—and something big is circled. [GOODBYE KISS] – Sender kisses Receiver like it’s the last time. Receiver doesn’t realize it is. [STUMBLE] – Sender keeps messing up small things—dropping keys, forgetting names—and it’s starting to scare Receiver. [WORN] – Receiver still wears the hoodie Sender left behind. They pretend it doesn’t mean anything. [ALMOST KISS] – They get so close to kissing—but flinch back, remembering who they’re supposed to be. [ONE LAST TIME] – Sender kisses Receiver mid-fight and says, “Just this once. Then we go back to being enemies.”

Level Two Sentence Starters

❛Were you planning that the whole time? ❜ ❛No, you listen to me. ❜ ❛You think this is easy for me? ❜ ❛Haven't you done enough already? ❜ ❛Truth hurts, doesn't it? ❜ ❛Please don't do this. ❜ ❛I know you're scared. ❜ ❛You deserve more. ❜ ❛I swear I'll do things different this time. ❜ ❛I'm ... I'm trying, I really am. ❜ ❛I said I'm not jealous. ❜ ❛I see the way you look at him. ❜ ❛I see the way you look at her. ❜ ❛I see the way you look at them. ❜ ❛I don't know what you're talking about. ❜ ❛You're overreacting. ❜ ❛You're making a big deal out of nothing. ❜ ❛What the hell was that about?! ❜ ❛What the hell is your problem?! ❜ ❛No way you're actually jealous. ❜ ❛All you do is whine. ❜ ❛I can't do this anymore. Not with you. ❜ ❛Have you been drinking? You look awful. ❜ ❛Where did all those bruises come from? ❜ ❛[Name], they don't care about you! ❜ ❛[Name], he doesn't care about you! ❜ ❛[Name], she doesn't care about you! ❜ ❛I'd rather it be you. ❜ ❛You didn't miss me at all? ❜ ❛All these years and you decided to break my heart now? ❜ ❛Please just stay with me, just for a moment. ❜ ❛Just admit that you're wrong! ❜ ❛Don't compare yourself to me! ❜ ❛That kiss ... did you really mean it? ❜ ❛I can't ever trust you again. ❜ ❛Say you never loved me. Say it! ❜ ❛Did this mean nothing to you? ...Did I mean nothing to you? ❜ ❛Please tell me that at least a part of this was real to you. ❜ ❛I should've listened when people warned me about you. ❜ ❛I know what you did. ❜ ❛Don't. Move. ❜ ❛When I let go, run for your life. ❜ ❛ You’re not even my sibling anymore. ❜ ❛ You’re not even my sister anymore. ❜ ❛ You’re not even my brother anymore. ❜ ❛ I’m not the one who left first. You did. ❜ ❛ I never asked you to be perfect. I just wanted you to show up. ❜ ❛ It’s too late for apologies now. You left me to deal with everything on my own. ❜ ❛ I don’t care if you’re my sibling—you hurt me. ❜ ❛ I don’t care if you’re my sister—you hurt me. ❜ ❛ I don’t care if you’re my brother—you hurt me. ❜ ❛ You can’t just break my heart and expect me to keep forgiving you. ❜ ❛ Maybe I should’ve let you go the first time you hurt me. ❜ ❛ I kept waiting for you to come back, but you never did. And now I can’t wait anymore. ❜ ❛ You were never there when I needed you. Why should I be there for you now? ❜ ❛ I never wanted to hate you… but you made it impossible not to. ❜

Level Two Actions [BETRAYAL] - Receiver learns about Sender's betrayal and confronts them with it. [SLEEP] - Receiver is traumatized by the idea of sleeping with the lights off but won't be honest about this to Sender. [ARGUE] - Sender and Receiver get into a heated argument about something. [BREAKDOWN] - Receiver has a mental breakdown in front of Sender. [FORGOT] - Sender forgot Receiver's name/everything about Receiver. [ABANDON] - Receiver abandons Sender. [REPLACE] – Receiver starts seeing someone new. Sender smiles and says they're happy for them. [FUMBLE] – Receiver goes to hold Sender’s hand, but Sender pulls away like it’s instinct. [MISFIRE] – Sender says “I love you” mid-conversation, but Receiver thinks they’re joking—and laughs. [EAVESDROP] – Sender overhears something they were never meant to hear—and it changes everything.

Level Three Sentence Starters

❛ I never asked for this. You pushed me into it, and now it’s too late. ❜ ❛I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did. ❜ ❛I know you still love me. ❜ ❛You know I'm not like that. ❜ ❛Don't give me space, that's the last thing I want with you. ❜ ❛I can't think straight with you. ❜ ❛Do you ever mean the things you say? ❜ ❛I hope she makes you happy. ❜ ❛I hope he makes you happy. ❜ ❛I hope they make you happy. ❜ ❛Don't do this here. ❜ ❛Is he really just a friend? ❜ ❛Is she really just a friend? ❜ ❛Are they really just a friend? ❜ ❛You can't hide forever! ❜ ❛I just want you to care about me... ❜ ❛Fuck off already! ❜ ❛You made me feel weak ❜ ❛I didn't mean to love you so much. ❜ ❛I wish I was sorry. ❜ ❛I wish I loved you. ❜ ❛You were the only person I thought I could trust. ❜ ❛You promised you wouldn't forget me. ❜ ❛You don't remember me? ❜ ❛If I see you again, I'll kill you. ❜ ❛You couldn't tell I was in love with you because you were too busy loving someone else. ❜ ❛You did such a great job convincing other people that you loved me that I almost fell for it. ❜ ❛ It was never going to be me, was it? ❜ ❛ I'm not angry. I'm just tired of hoping you’ll change. ❜ ❛ You never cared about me—just about winning. ❜ ❛ I’m not your second choice. I’m not your backup plan. ❜ ❛ I should’ve known you’d leave, just like everyone else. ❜ ❛ Do you even care about me anymore? Or was I just your second choice? ❜ ❛ You were supposed to protect me, not be the one I needed protection from. ❜ ❛ You always made me feel like I was in your shadow. Now you’ve disappeared into it, and I’m still here. ❜ ❛ Maybe I should’ve been a better sibling. But you should’ve been a better person. ❜ ❛ Maybe I should’ve been a better sister. But you should’ve been a better person. ❜ ❛ Maybe I should’ve been a better brother. But you should’ve been a better person. ❜

Level Three Actions [RETURNED] - Receiver hasn't seen Sender in months/years since they mysteriously disappeared and now they're suddenly at Receiver's doorstep, but they already recognize Sender. [INTRUDER] - Receiver realizes they aren't alone in their home when Sender accidentally reveals themselves. [BLOOD] - Sender comes home covered in blood and Receiver confronts them about it. [SLEEP TALK] - Sender talks in their sleep and Receiver usually doesn't mind but tonight they say something unsettling that Receiver can't let go. [DISMISS] – Sender tries to open up, but Receiver laughs, thinking it's a joke—and Sender shuts down completely. [DEADLINE] – Sender and Receiver make future plans—but Sender knows they won’t be around for them. [MISMATCHED] – They both say “I love you”—but one of them doesn’t mean it.

Level Four Sentence Starters

❛ You never once asked how I felt—only how I made you look. ❜ ❛ I never asked for you. ❜ ❛ You ruined my life the moment you came into it. ❜ ❛ Why do you always make me feel like I’m not enough? ❜ ❛ All I wanted was your love, but it feels like I’ll never be good enough for you. ❜ ❛ I’ve spent my whole life trying to earn your approval. I’m done. ❜ ❛ I wish I had never been born if it meant I’d never have to live up to your expectations.❜ ❛ You never loved me. You just wanted someone to control. ❜ ❛ I don’t care what you think of me anymore. You’ve already destroyed my worth. ❜ ❛You're the one that made this ugly. ❜ ❛Put the bat down! ❜ ❛Put the gun down! ❜ ❛No one will ever want you. ❜ ❛You'd be lucky to have a scar from me. ❜ ❛Nobody's coming to save you, give up. ❜ ❛I never loved you. ❜ ❛You're such a fucking burden. ❜ ❛God, you can't possibly be any worse. ❜ ❛Don't move, you're bleeding! ❜ ❛Are you bleeding?! ❜ ❛Don't apologize if you're just gonna keep doing this shit! ❜ ❛I know you don't really care about me, so thank you for trying to pretend that you do.❜ ❛Don't you dare die on me! ❜ ❛I can't lose you ... I can't lose you. ❜ ❛Don't close your eyes! ❜ ❛Please ... I don't want to lose you again ❜ ❛I'd much rather die by your side ... ❜ ❛Don't look at me like that ... a smile better suits you. Let me die seeing you smile. ❜ ❛If your smile is the last thing I see, I'll die happy. ❜ ❛I wish you were dead. ❜ ❛I wish you would fucking die already! ❜ ❛Was I a good friend ...? ❜ ❛Was I a good boyfriend ...? ❜ ❛Was I a good girlfriend ...? ❜ ❛Was I a good partner ...? ❜ ❛Am I finally a hero ...? ❜ ❛ Was I a good sister? Did I do everything right? ❜ ❛ Was I a good brother? Did I do everything right? ❜ ❛ Was I a good partner? Did I do everything right? ❜ ❛ You should’ve let me die back there. ❜ ❛ You only love me when it’s convenient. ❜ ❛ Please don’t make me choose between you and myself. ❜ ❛ I hate that I still want you. After everything you’ve done, I still want you. ❜ ❛ Why couldn’t you just love me the way I loved you? ❜ ❛ You don’t get to act like you’re the victim. Not after everything you’ve done. ❜

Level Four Actions [PROPOSAL] - Sender is about to propose when Receiver reveals they're already engaged. [SACRIFICE] - Sender sacrifices themselves for Receiver. [CURSE] - Every time Sender confesses their love to Receiver, Receiver instantly forgets everything about them. [POISON] - Sender poisons Receiver. [MISTAKE] – Receiver calls Sender by the wrong name during an intimate moment, and the entire atmosphere shifts. [ACCIDENT] – Receiver finds Sender lying unconscious, blood pooling, phone still unlocked with an unsent message: “I’m sorry.” [REGRET] – Receiver finds a letter they were never supposed to see. “I hated you because I couldn’t stop loving you.”

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Bullets & Claws | Chapter 17

By the way, you guys, if any of you catch me misusing the few Spanish words that I include in this story, please correct me!

I avoid relying on translator, since there are a lot of words that mean different things with different context and many of those translators don't tell me that. So I strictly use language articles and/or reddit posts, but there is, of course, always the risk that I'm still doing it wrong!

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 5.3k

Tags: gun violence, blood, injuries, missing body parts

Angelo Bronte's words echo in your head, as you stumble your way down the flight of stairs. Ice cold sweat clings to your skin and you practically rip open the double doors, that lead out to the garden. Although you inhale a good amount of fresh air, you still feel like you're suffocating. His voice alone has left you with the sense that a hand is tightening around your throat.

Infront of you, you see Dutch at the reiling and overseeing the crowd, so you do your best to compose yourself. Hoping to seem somewhat calm, you make your way over to him and his head immediately snaps in your direction. For a brief moment, there's nothing but confusion written across his face, but that's quickly replaced with worry.

"My dear, are you alright?", he asks and turns his entire body to you. "Where's Arthur?"

Right, he must have watched you follow the staff members inside the manor, together with the outlaw. Before you could answer him, Arthur appears by your side as if summoned by the mere mention of his name. He too looks quite puzzled.

"I got pulled away.", you answer Dutch's question, your mind running several laps in order to come up with a decent explanation.

"It was one of Bronte's men.", Arthur adds, making the older man's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"What did he want from you?"

His gaze is piercing through you, as if he's attempting to grasp the answer straight from your soul.

"Asked me to do his bidding. The same thing he asked of you earlier.", you curtly say, hoping it will satisfy his curiosity.

"That man can't take 'no' for an answer, can he?", Dutch grumbles through gritted teeth and shakes his head. "Did you accept the job?"

The question has you widen your eyes in near terror. Bronte might have given you the most tempting offer imaginable, but even you aren't foolish enough to instantly jump for it.

"Who do you hold me for, Dutch?", you gasp, visibly upset and offended by his doubts.

A proud smile graces his lips, as if he didn't expect any other answer from you, which makes you relax in an instant. It only makes sense for him to want to be double sure and all anger inside of you evaporates.

"I'm sorry. I should have kept a better eye on you.", he comments to which you firmly shake your head.

"You couldn't have known."

Immediately after, Hosea shows up, his gaze drifting over each and everyone of you. Sensing the tension in the air, he raises an eyebrow.

"What happened?", he questions, but Dutch waves it off with a grim crease on his forehead.

"Best we talk about it later. Let's wrap this up, gentlemen."

With that you all make your leave, but not before he asks Arthur about the Cornwall papers. As an answer, the outlaw simply pats his chest, indicating that the documents are in his pocket. Once you retrieve your guns and climb back into the stagecoach, you debrief.

You quickly sum up your meeting with Angelo Bronte, obviously leaving out all the supernatural details and you don't utter a single word about Ann and Jo either. To explain his sudden interest in you, you mention the large bounty on your head and your rough reputation.

"He must have thought I'd be the type to bite.", you end your recap and gauge Dutch's reaction.

So far, it doesn't seem like he has any suspicions towards your story. Quite on the contrary, he rather looks like he's ready to tear the Italian into pieces.

"Arrogant son of a bitch.", he snaps, his voice sending a cold shiver down your spine.

You've witnessed Dutch's wrath a handful of times, like his outburst back at the Braithwaite's manor. He can be a scary man, when he wants to. Hosea steers the conversation onto a lighter topic, mentioning the city bank, claiming that it's a promising target.

Dutch continues by talking about the trolley station, that Angelo Bronte had suggested to him and a ferry, where apparently high stakes poker games are being hosted regularly. Saint Denis, seemingly a hotspot for high risks, high rewards. One wrong move and you could burn your fingers, but if you execute your plans well?

The gang could end up swimming in cash by the time you're done with this place and then you can kiss the law goodbye. Thoughts and images of a better and brighter future flood your mind and you let them. Welcoming the positive distraction, you allow yourself to banish Bronte out of your mind and lean back.

By the time you make it back to Shady Belle, your limbs feel heavy and your muscles are aching. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you're hit with a wave of exhaustion and all the champagne you've thrown into yourself, isn't helping your current situation. The conversation with Bronte has sobered you up alright, but you feel a tad sleepy from the alcohol.

You're the last one to leave the coach and when you do, Arthur extends his hand out. While mumbling a quiet 'thanks', you take it and climb out. His calloused fingers are warm, as they intertwine with yours and he gives your hand a light squeeze.

"Sure you're fine?", he asks and you take in the expression on his face.

Watching him like this, has you recall Hosea's words from the party.

'He cares about you.'

Arthur often times comes off as rather brutish and mean, but now you remember all the times he's been nice. Like when he took you back to Blackwater, even though Dutch was against it. Or when he went along to save the abducted German. In those two moments, he could have easily put down his foot and refused to do these things.

Even tonight, with his peace offering after what he had said to you at Jack's party. There was no reason for him to suggest you as the fourth person to come along, nothing he would have gained out of it. Thinking about it, you begin to wonder if you should maybe go easier on him.

The two of you have more fights than civilized chats, but you can't blame it entirely on him. Pushing his buttons until steam leaves his ears, has become one of your favorite pastimes after all.

"I am. Just tired, is all.", you lie, but he nods, believing it.

"Well, it was fun.", he murmurs, earning a lopsided smile from you.

"Was it though?"

"No."

That gets a laugh out of both of you and you give his arm a friendly pat.

"See you tomorrow, Cinderella.", you say and raise your brows when he plants a quick kiss on your knuckles.

"My lady."

Annoyed by this wannabe gentleman role of his, you swat at his chest.

"Oh stop it!"

With that, he leaves for the house and you make your way to the main campfire. Your eyes fall on Javier, who's strumming away at his guitar, seeming to be the only person awake at the moment. With a tired groan, you plop down on one of the chairs and kick off your shoes.

Leaning forward, you massage your aching feet and contort your features at their soreness. The dress hangs heavy on your body now and the pungent smell of perfume still hasn't left your nose. Before, you were quite delighted by the makeup on your face, but now that it's mixed with your sweat, it feels more like a layer of dried mud on your skin.

A pair of dark eyes are set on you, trailing along your figure from top to bottom and you find yourself rather shy about it. So many emotions are swirling in his deep brown eyes that it has your throat clog up.

You would have preferred for Javier to see you this way before you left for the party and not now. Not when the high society of Saint Denis has trampled you into the ground like a horde of bisons.

"I know. I look like a mess.", you speak up, before he could point out the obvious.

The melody he's been playing up until now, abruptly seizes and he studies you with an expression of pure confusion.

"What do you mean?", he asks and you vaguely gesture to yourself.

"I look like shit.", you answer in a matter of fact way.

Shaking his head, he puts the guitar aside and pulls one of the crates closer to your chair before sitting down on it. He reaches up to the collar of your dress and traces along it with a finger. Every now and then, he brushes over your skin, leaving a burning trail behind.

"Don't talk about yourself that way.", he murmurs, eyes glued to the curve of your neck.

The entire interaction has heat shoot up into your face and down into your abdomen. Tonight has been shit, having to go through the torture that is small-talk, only to be reminded by a man of Angelo Bronte's caliber, that you're only safe when he allows you to be.

Your eyes fall on Javier's lips and you imagine having them on yours. That's exactly what you need right now, an escape, a distraction. Just one night in which you can forget yourself and all your problems. One night in which you give yourself to him, both body and spirit entirely his to take. Your heart, it seems, already belongs to him.

Then, as quick as his hand was on you, he pulls it away and you have to stop yourself from whining. Instead, he folds them together on his lap and stares into the fire. The look on his face is odd, sort of strained, something you don't remember ever seeing on him.

"So you had fun with Arthur and the others?", he asks and you wrinkle your nose.

"I wouldn't call that fun. The people there were so insufferable, so full of themselves, you get me?"

That seems to directly fly over his head.

"But it's nice of him, no? To take you to a fancy party.", he comments instead and you shrug.

"I guess. It was his way of apologizing after being such an ass."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

There's a long stretched pause, the tension radiating off him in waves, making you squirm in your seat. Something is definitely off, you just can't tell what.

"You were holding hands."

His gaze drops down to your hand and you follow it. With a thumb, you trace over your scarred knuckles, right where he had kissed you. But that was a joke, his role for tonight, the same way you had called him Cinderella. Suddenly, Javier's behavior makes sense to you and you bite down on the inside of your cheek to stifle a chuckle.

"Mr. Escuella!", you exclaim in feigned outrage. "Are you jealous?"

Your teasing only deepens the frown on his face and he sends a menacing glare your way. Others might have stepped down a little, but not you. Not the insufferable piece of shit that you oh so enjoy being. No wonder Arthur and you argue so much.

"Enough.", he grumbles under his breath, that single word carrying a very obvious warning.

Deciding that it's absolutely not enough, that you want to keep poking the bear with a stick, you push your finger against his shoulder.

"I really didn't think you were the type, with how level headed you always pretend to be."

With one swift motion, he grabs your wrist and locks eyes with you. Your name leaves his lips in an almost dangerous manner, the last hint he's willing to give you. Oh, if he only knew the effect that has on you. A long time ago, you would have bared your teeth, upset at his poor attempt at intimidation.

Now? Now you're left feeling hot, burning up under his fiery gaze and the pressure on your wrist. Like the fool you are, lacking any and all self-preservation, you want to throw oil into the flames and oil you throw.

"Seriously, if that's all it takes to get you to act up, then-"

"Ya basta!", he barks, the final straw.

You've seen or rather heard it a few times. Whenever Javier would get agitated, excited or mad to a certain point, he switches to Spanish, his mother language seemingly conveying his emotions in a more efficient way. You do that too sometimes.

Would the old you have still continued? Even after the outburst? It's hard to tell, since it's so familiar to have these deeper feelings for him. So natural, as if it has always been the case. Back in Colter, you didn't mind leaving him angry, though. If you remember correctly, then you had thought of it as a small price to pay.

Seeing him like this now, glaring at you, directing all his frustration your way, pains you. You don't want to be the source of this. If anything, you want to get the exact opposite out of him. Sighing in defeat, you reach out for his hand and relief washes over you, when he doesn't avoid your touch.

"Sorry.", you mumble, watching him hang his head low. "Arthur was just comforting me back there."

That catches his attention and all irritation seems to vanish into thin air. Now he looks concerned.

"Why?"

Looming around, you notice that there are too many ears that could listen in on you. Sleeping or not, you don't want to take any risks and stand up, signaling him to follow you. So you lead him away of the fire and into the protection of the night, into the parts of the camp that no light touches.

Engulfed entirely by a blanket of darkness, you stand by the fountain. Javier stands close, close enough for his breath to hit your cheek and you almost forget why you're here. Recalling the smug grin of Angelo Bronte is enough to snap you out of it and you explain in great detail what happened at the party.

When you finish, a grim silence hangs in the air and if you'd have enough light, you guess that you'd find your own sorrow reflected in your friend's features.

"What will you do?", he asks the question, that's been stirring in your head for ages now.

"I don't know.", you admit, face burning from both fury and shame.

It's agonizing, being this powerless, but you feel better than you did at the mayor's house. Now with Javier by your side, the situation doesn't seem that damning. Back at the staircase, you were convinced that the walls were going to crush you alive.

"You can't accept his deal.", he says and you let out an outraged noise.

"I wasn't even thinking about doing that!", you immediately argue, accidentally raising your voice in the process. "You know, that I stand by Dutch's code. Our code. I ain't no hitman. Or hitwoman. Whatever."

"Of course. I know that, but I know how you feel about Ann and Jo too."

Frustrated and exhausted, you bury your face in both your hands and almost let out a choked back sob, when a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders.

"Listen.", he starts, voice low and comforting. "You should go to sleep, you need it. Tomorrow we can talk more about this and don't beat yourself up, hm? Now we know they're somewhere in Saint Denis."

He's right. Unbeknownst to him, Bronte has dealt you a decent hand, has put you in a position that allows you to decline the deal. More confident than before, you break away from the hug and manage the ghost of a smile.

---

The next morning, you wake up with a start, unable to tell if the sweat on your brow comes from the heat or your nightmare. In your dream, you were back at the mayor's house, but the balcony where Bronte had stood with his bootlickers had been transformed into gallows. Two coyotes were hanging on nooses.

Before going to sleep, you had scrubbed off all the makeup and changed out of the dress. With the entire camp awake now, aside from the people who stood watch last night, you pick up the dress that you had left neatly folded on a chair. Walking up the flight of stairs, that creak under your steps, you enter the room that Molly and Dutch share.

She doesn't react when you enter, even though the door let's out an earpiercing squeal that should alarm everyone in Lemoyne. Her red hair falls over her shoulder in a braid, some strands of it framing her face loosely. Black circles are beneath her eyes, standing out quite a bit next to her pale skin.

Everyone knows that her and Dutch are going through a rough patch right now and you remember her yelling at him during Jack's party, drunk and furious. Though, you had no idea it's taken such a toll on her. Sure, the two of you have never gotten along particularly well, but you still feel a pang of guilt at the sight.

She has no one in the gang and the only person she did have, seems to be ignoring her. Rather awkwardly, you clear your throat to make your presence known and she subtly turns her head in your direction. Not enough to look at you, but at least you know that she has taken notice.

"I'm here to give you the dress back.", you tell her and much to your surprise, she waves it off.

"Keep it. I can't wear it anyways."

"What? I don't think I could. It's such fine material."

For the first time during this interaction, she looks at you.

"No, have it. You looked good in it."

"I...okay. Thank you, Molly."

It doesn't sit right with you to simply leave her to herself like this. You stand in the doorway for along time, pondering over what you should do until you come to a conclusion.

"Have you had breakfast yet? I was thinking we could grab a bite together, if Pearson has prepared something already."

The offer leaves your lips in an uncertain manner and you hope that you don't seem insincere.

"No, thanks."

"Sure?"

"Can you just leave me alone?", she snaps, making you jump in surprise. Then she adds in a more softer tone. "Please."

With only a nod, you close the door behind you and walk back to your bedroll to store the dress away. Maybe it will come in handy again, if Dutch decides to send you along to that ferry job he mentioned yesterday. You're not too sure how well you'll fare in a high stakes poker game, but some extra guns wouldn't hurt.

Well, all these new potential jobs would need some prepping first, so you have to find a way to kill time differently. Stepping out onto the front porch, you find Sadie sitting there and cleaning her rifle. She lifts her head when she hears you walk up and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, you.", she drawls and her attention drifts back to the gun.

"Morning.", you respond and lean against the wall, gaze set out at the front of the property.

You crack open your mouth for an audible yawn.

"Someone's tired.", she points out and you wave your hand around in the air.

"It was a long night. We came home pretty late."

An amused snort leaves her throat.

"I can imagine how hard it must have been, surrounded by fine food and liquor. Poor you."

A sarcastic retort is on your tongue, locked and loaded and ready to shoot it at her, but movement in the corner of your eyes catches your attention. A lone rider, a rather short man, enters the camp on horseback. He's so far away, that you have to squint your eyes in order to catch a better glimpse at his face. Could be one of the gang members.

Then you realize why the guy is so short and that no matter how hard you focus to get a proper glance at his face, it's futile. His head is missing, at least at first glance. It's quite easy to find it at the second attempt and you let out a choked back gasp. Tension fills your muscles in an instant and you push yourself off the wall, as you gawk at Kieran's corpse, tied onto the saddle.

His eyes have been gauched out, leaving two gaping holes in his skull. The way his head is tied to his body, makes it look like he's holding it in his hands. Then you recall Miss Grimshaw's words back when you went to rescue Tilly. That poor bastard has been missing for days and nobody in camp even bothered to look for him. Including you.

A guttural scream cuts through the air, grabbing everyone's attention. Mary-Beth has one hand clasped over her agape mouth and points with the other at the headless rider. There's no time to process the horror infront of you, as a small army of armed men suddenly barrels out of the tree line.

A lead storm follows shortly after and everyone jumps behind cover. Cursing through gritted teeth, you press your back against the nearest pillar and fish out your pistol. There's no denying it, those assholes got you all cornered and too stunned to retaliate in time. Too many people are caught in the front and your gaze falls on Jack and Abigail, who are cowering behind stacked up sand sacks.

Suddenly Jack starts sprinting towards the house and your heart sinks to your boots. Before you could react, John shoots out from his position behind the fountain, picks up the boy and carries him back to the sacks. Someone shouts, demanding for everyone to retreat back into the manor. While the people at the front make a beeline for the house, you peak out from behind the pillar and fire shot after shot.

Once everyone makes it inside, you too crash through the double door and help Arthur barricade it with a closet. Looking around, you count your numbers, checking if the others managed to get to safety. For a moment it seems like the entire gang is here, but then you notice that someone is missing.

In a frenzy, you grab Arthur by his sleeve and yank at it to get his attention. His eyes are wide, chest heaving, visibly unsettled by the ambush. If the gang's enforcer looks like that, then you know that you all are in some serious trouble.

"Where's Sadie?", you ask and his gaze searches the lower floor, but can't spot her anywhere either.

"Stay here. I'll go look."

"Check the back.", you tell him, remembering that you haven't seen her at the front porch when everyone sought out shelter inside.

Nodding, he runs to the back of the house and you crouch down at some of the windows. Using your elbow, your break the glass, the sound of it shattering being drowned out by all the gunfire. Another person joins your side and relief washes over you, when you lock eyes with Javier.

This somehow always happens. Whenever chaos breaks out, you always end up together. One could claim that you're simply drawn to each other, because you tend to work as a duo all the time on jobs, but you know the truth. In a crowd or during danger, he's the first person you look for and you'd bet all your money that he does the same.

You never fail to end up side by side, because when push comes to shove, you both know that you're the closest ally the other one has. It always has been like that and you doubt it will change in the future.

"Just can't go without me, huh?", you ask, scared he might not find the energy for some banter in these dire times, but he smiles.

"Have to make sure that you're not about to get shot again, lobita."

Little wolf?

"What did you just call me-"

Before you could finish the sentence, a bullet pierces the wooden frame of the windows you're crouching at, sending splinters flying around. None of them thankfully find their way into your skin, but you feel them scratch and cut your cheeks. Lifting your arms to protect your face, Javier pushes you down onto the floor.

Using his body both as a shield and as a weight to pin you down, he catches most of the damages that follows. You hear him grunt into your ear and if the situation was a less shitty one, your thoughts might have drifted off to more lewd places. Now, on the other hand, you quickly shove him off you and bend over him to inspect him for any wounds.

"Are you hurt?", you yell over the sound of gunfire and his features contort in a pained way.

His hand moves up to his side, where his ribs start.

"I got hit by something, but I'm fine."

You stare at the spot for a long time, scared that it might have been a bullet, but there's no blood. It could have been a blunt object then, most likely a piece of the window frame or something along those lines. Letting out a shaky sigh, you help him back up and find a better spot to hide behind.

"Is anything broken?", you ask, fighting the urge to rip his clothes off and take a better look.

"Don't think so.", he hisses through gritted teeth and a tirade of Spanish curses.

After what feels like eternity, the shooting seizes, but you don't allow yourself to relax quite yet. You wait a few heartbeats before pushing the closet out of the way, together with Javier's help. Although you've tried to shoo him away, saying you can handle the furniture by yourself just fine, he does not let you.

Once you step out into the sun, you take in the mess. Bodies lie scattered all over the place, but thankfully none of them belong to any of your own gang members. Upon closer inspection, you find that all the men that have ambushed you, are wearing the same green bandana. They're O'Driscolls.

It only makes sense that they were the ones who kidnapped Kieran. Oh, Kieran. You spot him laying by the fountain, guessing that the commotion must have frightened the horse and it had bucked him off in the process. The head is still tied firmly to his hands and you force down a gag at the macabre sight.

You can't help but wonder if he was alive when they took his eyes and what other horrors he must have endured. Colm O'Driscoll certainly does not forget or forgive and has proven yet again how much he can hate. The loss has shaken up the entire gang, even the ones who haven't been on good terms with him.

It takes all day to clean up the camp, having thrown the O'Driscolls into the river for the alligators to feast upon, and preparing a proper grave for Kieran. Burying fallen members has never been something you participated in, but you're there for him. You'd have done it for Sean as well, if Hosea hadn't sent you out to track down Jack.

By the time the place is somewhat cleaned up again, you go look for Javier. You find him alone, behind his tent, where he has a little bit of privacy between the canvas and the makeshift wooden wall. His red neckerchief hangs loosely from his neck, his blue vest neatly folded and left aside. The white button up shirt is halfway off, dangling by his left shoulder, as he inspects something to his right side.

To announce your approach, you step on branches and dried leaves and he quickly looks up. When he recognizes you, he immediately relaxes and goes back to what he was doing before your appearance. As expected, there's a large bruise over his ribs and you lower yourself down onto your knees to get to eye level.

"You might wanna get this cooled.", you murmur, carefully tracing the blue skin with your fingertips.

A shudder runs through his body, though you can't tell if it's because of pain or your touch. You're barely making contact with the bruise after all. When you look up, you catch him staring at you, dark eyes boring into yours. His throat bobs as he swallows and you can't help but feel strangely intimate right now.

It's hard to navigate this extreme shift of dynamic between the two of you. Not too long ago, you always were at ease around him. His presence had never made you this nervous. Now the air around you is crackling with tension and unspoken words, each gesture and touch heavy with hidden meanings.

Slowly, you get up to your feet and he follows your movements with his gaze. It leaves you feeling like he's the wolf now, not you. Javier follows suit, now standing infront of you and sliding his free arm into the sleeve of his shirt. The buttons are still left open though, his upper body free for your gaze to explore.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to gawk at the man as if he was a meal, and so you keep your eyes glued to his face. If he notices your internal struggle, then he doesn't let it show. Instead, a frown is etched into his features and he lifts your chin with his hand to get a closer look at you.

"You're all cut up, lobita."

There's that nickname again. Before, it caught you off-guard, but you don't want to complain about it anymore, out of fear that he might stop. You like it, relish in it, in fact. You're used to him calling you friendlier names, the ones he uses for others within the gang, the people he's close to.

This one, lobita, is specifically reserved for you and you'll be damned if you let anyone take that away from you.

"I don't mind a scar or two. Makes me look mysterious.", you reply, happy to find your voice firm and strong.

"So you like scars, hm?"

Immediately, your eyes snap up to the one at his eyebrow and you know what kind of answer he's hoping for.

"They can look good. Sure.", you respond, aware that it's too vague to satisfy his curiosity.

All playfulness then leaves his expression and is replaced by something more serious.

"But you should get it checked out. They don't look too deep, but still."

"Sir, yes, sir."

An amused half-laugh-half-snort leaves his throat and he waves you off. After leaving him be behind his tent, you wash off your face and go check on the damage inside the house. Drawn to the window where you had hid behind, you stop dead in your tracks. The floor infront of it is littered with shards and the frame is all shot up.

Not only that, but part of it is hanging down, right where Javier had thrown himself over you. The frame piece must have been the thing that hit him and you take a closer look at the broken end. It's pointy and a mortified shiver runs down your spine. That thing could have easily impaled him and then he'd have been beyond saving.

Surely he must have known that when he had pinned you down. Was he that much of a fool? No, that's not it. Javier saw it fall down on you and took a calculated risk.

He was willing to lay down his life for you.

Taglist: @zizizi-blogs

[aishangotome]

[Clavis] Me and You, Always Part 2

Part 1

♡———♡

Clavis: Are you alright, Emma-san? You're trembling.

Even though it was the middle of summer, Emma-san was hugging herself and cowering.

Clavis: Come on, you can jump into your loving darling's arms. I'll warm you up.

Emma: Yes, yes. . .

She must have been very cold, as Emma-san obediently leaned into him and was embraced.

Emma: It was definitely the right decision to put this one away. It's past cooling; it's cold.

Clavis: I know, right?

Clavis: This prototype uses a special mint that only grows in Jade.

Clavis: Its refreshing sensation is incredible, and the extracted liquid is apparently so cold it causes pain.

Clavis: But I have some bad news for my currently freezing fiancée.

Emma: Eh?

Clavis: Strictly speaking, mint water doesn't actually cool the body. It only makes you feel that way.

Clavis: In other words, while you feel cold right now, your body temperature is actually rising.

Emma: What does that mean—

Clavis: Oh, Sir Head Knight, perfect timing!

When called out to, Cyril, who was passing by in the corridor, looked into the room with a puzzled expression.

Cyril: Aren't you hot, in the middle of summer like this. . . ?

Clavis: Without a detailed explanation, could you please fan us with that linen over there right now?

Clavis: If we stay like this, both of us will get too warm and fall ill.

Cyril: I don't quite understand, but I just need to fan you, right?

He quickly snapped open a nearby piece of linen with a flourish and fanned them expertly with a flick of his wrist.

Emma: Kyaa, I'm cold. . . !

Cyril: Eh, young lady, have you gone strange from the heat?

Emma: N-n-no, it's not like that.

Clavis: Haha, if you're cold, you're welcome to snuggle even closer, you know?

Emma: Clavis-san, you knew this would happen. . . !

(As a gentleman, I had tried to refrain from snuggling with Emma-san while she was wilting from the heat as much as possible. . . )

(But if Emma-san proactively cuddles me like this, then it's not so bad for it to be too effective.)

Emma-san, though indignant, snuggled closer, and she was so adorable that the summer heat seemed to have vanished before he knew it.

-

The heat had considerably subsided, and the leaves on the trees began to change color as autumn arrived—

Clavis: We truly have a bumper crop this year. The Lelouch Kingdom's Grand Harvest Festival is sure to be a huge success!

Emma: It's certainly a bumper crop, but I'd say it's too much of a bumper crop. . .

On the table lay a spread of precious crops harvested within the Kingdom of Lelouch. Emma-san and Clavis were preparing these to serve dishes made solely from domestic vegetables to the citizens.

Emma: There isn't a single normal vegetable here. . .

Clavis: What are you talking about? These are all perfectly legitimate vegetables.

Emma: Is it just my imagination, Clavis-san, or does this carrot look like a beautifully shapely leg?

Clavis: As expected, your aesthetic eye is sharp. This is a beautiful leg carrot, destined to be a specialty product of the Lelouch Kingdom.

Clavis: I won't go into the blood, sweat, and tears that the farmers and I poured into shaping these.

Clavis: Oh, and don't worry. The model for these beautiful legs is you, of course.

Emma: Um. . . thank you. . . ?

Despite her confusion, Emma-san skillfully prepared the vegetables with practiced hands. Afterward, she and Clavis continued to cook a variety of unique vegetables. . .

Clavis: How about making this glow in seven colors to capture the autumn mood?

Emma: I think it would be better to finish it with more subdued colors precisely because it's autumn!

...

Clavis: Considering its nutritional value, I don't think it's a bad idea to add this herb.

Emma: That's a strange herb. What does it smell like. . . That's an incredibly sour smell!

What they ended up with was a stew, the quantity of which was rather meager to serve to all the citizens.

Clavis: It's wonderfully made. There's no doubt that everyone who tastes it will be moved to tears of gratitude.

Emma: I'm confident about the taste; it's delicious, but the vegetables' presence. . .

Floating in the steaming stew were strikingly unique vegetables: small, densely packed green thorn-like shapes that expressed Emma-san's adorable tsundere nature, vibrant red root vegetables shaped almost exactly like roses, symbolizing their passion, and slender herbs that appeared to form heart shapes.

Clavis: This is the taste of autumn in the Kingdom of Lelouch, you know?

Emma: . . . . . . You're right. I'm sorry, I was mistaken.

( . . . Huh?)

Emma: I won't say that appearance isn't important in cooking, but what truly matters is love.

Emma: I've eaten a lot of your cooking, Clavis-san, so there's no mistake about it.

Emma: These vegetables are full of love and nutrition, cultivated through the diligent research of you and your team, Clavis-san.

Emma: . . . Let's serve them proudly! As a specialty product of the Lelouch Kingdom!

Clavis: . . . . . . .

He was momentarily surprised by her unexpected reaction, but more than that, a surge of joy welled up from deep within his chest.

(To think Emma-san, who used to frown at my cooking, would say something like this. . . )

(Indeed, the passage of time and the power of love are truly amazing.)

Clavis: If that's settled, then let's go. Let's make our beloved citizens' tongues sing!

Near the fields, harvest festival decorations had been set up, and unique, pumpkin-shaped figures were also arranged. Amidst all this, the citizens, holding bowls of stew, looked at each other with perplexed expressions.

Man: It's actually kind of amazing that it only has vegetables I've never seen before. . .

Woman: Am I the only one who thinks this carrot looks strangely seductive?

Child: What's this red thingy?

Emma: Their appearance is unique, but all of them are delicious vegetables! Be brave and take a bite!

Citizens: . . . . . . .

As everyone exchanged uncertain glances, one old gentleman scooped some stew with a spoon and put it into his mouth.

Man: H-he ate it!

Woman: How is it. . . ?

Old Gentleman: . . . . . . !

.

.

.

.

.

Part 3

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[the-possum-writes]

a finn nsfw alphabet please :)

(I don't speak English that's why so sharp) no se si se entendio

Finn Mertens NS/FW Alphabet

A/n: No te preocupes también hablo español nvn Yippi my first alphabet!

Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

A = Aftercare

He's very affectionate and somewhat clingy, Finn would lay with you for a while before getting you a towel or something to eat/drink.

B = Body part

Finn likes his arms and hands even though they're calloused or riddled with tiny scars, because they remind him that he's strong enough to protect you from many evildoers.

As for his partner's, I'd say he isn't picky but he does like any part of you he can grab a handful and squeeze when cuddling (boobs, tummy, thigh)

C = Cum

It's kinda bitter to the taste because he really likes junk food, but beside that, it's usually a healthy creamy color and a jelly like consistency. He likes cumming inside and over you but would wear condoms if you ask him to, is particularly fond of dirtying your chest and/or face.

D = Dirty Secret

Back during his younger years he'd have this one fantasy about saving someone and they'd give their thanks via a favor of the oral kind. Maybe someday he'll tell you about it for a role play session.

E = Experience

Quite experienced. Finn is well liked, popular, has the confidence and carisma to smooch princesses during the breezy episode so that leads me to think he's gonna get around more often once he's older.

F = Favourite Position

Depending on his mood. If Finn has been out adventuring and hasn't seen you in a while he'd be all over you and would want to be as close to you as possible, like spooning behind you or simplistic missionary. But if he just came back from fighting a monster you know it still has his his blood pumping, he'd wanna take you down to pound town either doggy style or mating press.

G = Goofy

Finn is a silly guy, he'd say a pun or two if he's feeling inspired in the moment. He would also start chuckling if your body makes flatulent-like noises (when a little of air gets trapped in between thrusts and sounds like a gas because of the lube/sweat) during a heated session.

H = Hair

Doesn't usually groom himself downstairs so it's kinda bushy, like sometimes he'll trim it if he's in the shower and notices it's getting out of hand but most of the time Finn doesn't really care that much. You can sorta tell when was the last time he groomed himself (without seeing him naked) by measuring the hair length on his face and head. The color is a bit darker than the blond ones on his head, but still fairly similar.

I = Intimacy

Finn is very romantic, he's one to take things slow and enjoy the moment. He's attentive to your needs and a general sweetheart overall but he can also get overexcited at times and drives you to tears with pleasure, he would make sure you feel loved afterwards, spewing compliments and how much he loves you.

J = Jack Off

Finn didn't really jack off that often before meeting you since he shared a room with his bro but he would occasionally rub one off in the bathroom if he was in the mood. After meeting you though, he'd much rather satisfy that urge with you than alone, but if he's far away during a mission for PB he'd choose to wait it out until he got back to you.

L = Location

There's always the comfort and familiarity of your bedroom but another top contender would be the outdoors, he travels alot so camping in a tent in the middle of nowhere can be very relaxing for him, especially with no one around so he can have you as noisy as he wants.

M = Motivation

Anything you do has his neurons activate no matter if you're dancing, bending over the shelves or wearing that cute new outfit you bought the other day. But if you really wanna push all his buttons at once you just need to grab your weapon of choice and go adventuring with him, the moment he sees you fighting off monsters he'll be all over you like a bee on a flower.

N = NO

Finn doesn't like seeing you hurt, so anything with sharp objects or degrading vocabulary isn't on the table for him.

O = Oral

Prefers to be on the receiving end. Isn't that good at giving cause he gets sloppy lost in it and doesn't coordinate his hands when added to the mix.

P = Pace

Depending on his mood. But most of the time, rough and enthusiastic.

Q = Quickie

Isn't against the idea of lazy sex in the morning, but he'd rather do things properly to savor you instead of rushing it.

R = Risk

Doesn't take risks regarding public locations. Finn is resilient to most pains so he's willing to try out new things like impact play or wax play on himself, kinda unsure about bondage on himself but is interested in seeing you tied up.

S = Stamina

Impecable stamia. You'll never be able to outlast him and if you dare challenge him you can bet you'll be sore for days.

T = Toy

Wouldn't mind the occasional vibrator to tease and prepare you with, though that's about it cause the dildos makes him a teeny bit jealous (he wishes it was him instead) .

He doesn't own any toys himself since he doesn't jack it on his own, nor would he be interested in any on him. (might be open to you wearing a strap on if you ask enough)

U = Unfair

Fair. Finn enjoys teasing as long as it's in the bedroom like when you point out how badly he's spilling precum, however he's not a fan of it in public cause it's very obvious when he gets flustered since his face turns all shades of red. Just be warned, if you do tease him he'll return it once you two get some alone time.

V = Volume

Learned to be quiet back at the tree house but when you get him alone he can get unabashedly loud. Can go from desperate whimpers to legitimate growling.

W = Wild Card

Is most likely a switch, leans more to a sub role cause he likes being told what to do (Bubblegum sending him out to missions, and being Marceline's henchman awoke something in him)

X = X-Ray

Average size, roughly around 8 inches, he's a grower. Uncut, shaft is a bit darker than his usual skin tone with a bright tip.

Y = Yearning

Moderately high, like even when he's not a young man anymore with his hormones all over the place he still get riled up pretty easily.

Z = ZZZ

It takes a while for him to go to sleep, mainly because he waits until you're out first.

[aurae-rori]

hi friend, i am literally so glad i've found another dr. ratio enjoyer! you're literally such a great writer and I love your character analyses.

anyways, my curiosity is peaked, how is children of the city dr. ratio core?

First of all, thank you so much - haha, I'm glad that you enjoy my analyses and writings. I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get back to you - I had a few things to take care of, but I'm going to do a full analysis in your honour!

Analysis under the cut, because it gets really long. :)

"Sleep for a total of 800 hours per day And then drink a liter of milk Warm-up before you go play Only eat, or write Or pull the trigger with your right hand Only thing that's left Is to work on following commands"

I'm totally not projecting my gifted child trauma here, nuh uh... Anyway, my personal HC for Ratio is that his child might have felt monotonous being in classes that he was already too "intelligent" for. Learning things at a quicker pace than other children, absorbing knowledge up like a sponge - sure, the praise is nice, but after awhile, especially when you get to higher levels, intelligence isn't enough to carry you. You have to put diligence, effort, blood sweat and tears into what you're studying for, especially if you want to make a change, like how Dr. Ratio wanted to. It. must have gotten lonely, getting up only to do more researcher, eating only to go back to work. Following a schedule is wonderful, and he would have enjoyed the routine, but after being isolated from other people along with that, it might have made him feel subhuman or less than human for only being there for the studying of more knowledge. Eat, study, work, repeat. This is more of a personal HC rather than something canon, though. :)

"By the time you realize You'll be restrained to a desk And with your dreams on the floor, you comply Eyes chained to the test In 30 minutes, find a groom or bride Bonus if brunette In 90 hours, spill their insides Paint your room picturesque"

I feel like the prospect of romance is pushed onto children at a very young age - and that can be applied to Dr. Ratio. Who knows what romantic beliefs that he grew with? However, I believe this is less of him observing himself, but more of him seeing what the education system does to others, and how society molds others into the person that they "should" be, rather than what they want to be. Also, it could be a reference to academic trauma and placing all your self worth in your grades.

"Now it's time for another vendetta Going through the shelves Picking out my pre-written persona (ha-ah-ah) Children of the city sees only the neon stars Reflected upon the murky gutter sky Don't ask me why I desperately wish to be included in the city's night"

This is how I see Dr. Ratio holding a grudge against the Aeons and other figures of authority. We are all expected to be "good" and "well-behaved", and yet, we all look to the "city's night" - the approval of those who are in a higher position of us. We want to gain the approval and the praise of our parents, of our teachers - it's natural, after. We want to be included in the "city's night" - in Dr. Ratio's case, the gaze of Nous. He wants to be acknowledged by Nous and let into the Genius Society because his beliefs that were instilled into him as a child dictate that since he is hailed as a genius, he should be seen as one by the Aeons, right? However, I'd like to point out the usage of the words "neon stars" - stars are not neon. This implies that the stars are fake - I can also see this as a pointer to the idea of there system itself being fake, or societal "norms" being fake, as we are all unique.

"In four hundred thousand meters, turn right

Pick up a knife and stab a familiar warm body Learned to fight before I knew love or bitterness of coffee Snippy scissors cut down the strings I set myself free Only to figure out everything I chose was by proxy"

Dr. Ratio following orders until he doesn't. Fitting in until he gives up on it. Setting himself free from the chains of what is expected from him of other people, but not by the Aeons - no, that's something that still stays with him. However, I like to interpret the idea of a "familiar warm body" being his own childhood - killing the child that you used to be in favour of facing the future. Coffee is also something commonly regarded as students or workers using it to keep awake during long periods of work and study - it talks about how he has known to fight for himself, or fight for what he wants, before he was told to suck it up and just work for the sake of others, for the sake of the authority. However, this might feel scripted to him as well, with the mention of a "proxy" - it was a decision someone else made for him, maybe? Who knows? Maybe his selflessness was originally chosen by someone else, and drilled into him?

"As we suckled upon the nine millimeter pacifier Swallowing the fact that other than to expand We had no purpose As my ever-burning will to stay afloat backfires I now know I must be comfortable being Who I considered worthless"

This is definitely expanding on the idea of being raised to just be used by the authorities. Also, this can also be a representation of the way that he calls himself "mundane" - he was called a genius and raised as one, and now that Nous has not seen him, he must be "mundane" and he must come to terms that he is exactly what he wasn't called growing up. None of their words of praise have any meaning any more, because in the all seeing gaze of an Aeon, he is nothing.

"Follow the city's ribbon To a heart nobody seems to listen It takes my heart being broken and broken again (broken and broken again) To know that I am the reason why (the reason why) The sufferings never end"

As Dr. Ratio uncovers the truth of his childhood and the truth of why he was raised this way, the empathy that he has suppressed comes back up. And this is it - because he feels for others, because he is so incredibly human, that is the reason why his suffering does not end. He cannot detach himself like other people, like other geniuses, and treat life with little to no care. He cannot, because he loves, and that is his fatal flaw. He listens to his heart, as well as his mind, and that does not make him a genius in the eyes of an Aeon.

"Do not go home until you finish reading the value of E. 2.71 8281 8284 5904 5235 3602 8747 1352 6624 9775 7247 0936 9995 9574 9669 6762"

"E" is a mathematical constant, and therefore is logical. It's called the base of a natural logarithm, and while my knowledge in that area is limited, the fact that it is called a "constant" means that it cannot change, just like all numbers cannot. It might be a representation of the idea of Dr. Ratio trying again to fit in with others, only to fail once more, even though he knows all the rules. He was simply born in a different way, doomed from the start. It wasn't his fault.

He was just human.

You can also see this as Dr. Ratio observing the world as he grows up in an "apathetic" and "detached" way - as he pushes down his own emotions in favour of staring at his own success to help others, knowing that his empathy will not get him anywhere in terms of a cruel world. However, he cannot help it.

Ultimately, "Children of the City" is about how we are raised in a society that forces the idea of work on us ever since we are young. We do not get to cherish our childhoods nor our youth, and are immediately turned to the prospect of how we can provide value to society. We are raised in a never ending cycle like machines, to be puppets to corporations, to be slaves by the desire of the majority, to never have free will of our own.

Summoning @ironunderstands @pepper-demon @misty-lilies @sleepyburito :)

[caspersickfanfics]

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, amnesia, mentions of other symptoms including headaches/brain fog/passing out, mentions of blood, speculated poisoning, trauma response

A/N: Yeah so... this is none of the WIPs I've been working on for months, actually, but I just Needed to get something done this weekend, so. Here we are. I have Ideas for a part 2 for this and if you read closely you might be able to pick up on some intentional loose ends but also I'd feel irresponsible adding to my WIP list at this point. We'll see. Anyway, this is for @monthofsick day 21: Sleepy Sickie

It’s the dead of night, amidst a humid summer heat, when Cyno shows up at Tighnari’s doorstep, feverish and ill. He’s trembling all over, downtrodden, and exhausted. His hair is sweat damp, his face marred by tear tracks, just barely visible in the lamplight.

Tighnari guides him inside. He has Cyno sit, and then wordlessly checks that his body is in one piece. For the most part, yes, it is, but he makes quick work bandaging a dozen or so surface level wounds. By the time he’s done, the matra has dozed off, slumped back against the chair with his head lolling on his chest. Tighnari wants him to rest, but worries about his fever and gently wakes him to gather more information.

“Hey,” Tighnari says quietly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Tighnari?”

“Mhm.”

There’s a flash of panic across his face, and Cyno’s muscles tighten. Responding immediately, Tighnari places a firm hand on his chest, and while Cyno stops struggling to stand, the tension doesn’t fade, his eyes searching Tighnari’s face. Tighnari feels his brow furrow when Cyno asks, “Where are we?”

“We’re at home,” he states. His voice is masked with a carefully curated calm. He can feel Cyno’s heart rushing far too quickly under his hand. “We’re safe.”

Cyno looks completely lost, but after checking and double checking his surroundings - as if he doesn’t believe his eyes - slowly relaxes. He still looks off-kilter.

Tighnari’s unease heightens. “You don’t remember why you came here?”

The matra’s face scrunches up, confused and distressed. “I don’t even remember coming here,” he mumbles. He hardly sounds like himself, voice even lower than usual, words slightly slurred. A shiver runs through him.

“It’s alright,” Tighnari reassures. “Let’s not worry about that. If I give you a list of possible symptoms, can you let me know which ones you’re experiencing, or if I'm missing any?”

Cyno agrees with a nod, and proceeds to respond to the rest of Tighnari’s questioning in a similar fashion. Headache, muscle pain, stomach ache, nausea, hot flashes, shivering, weakness, lightheadedness, fatigue, brain fog… Tighnari clocks the silent but affirmative responses to each item on the list with a growing sense of dread.

“You don’t remember if you ate anything suspicious recently, do you?”

“Don’t know.” It’s clear he’s running out of energy. When his head dips forward, Tighnari cups Cyno’s cheek in his hand. “Wanna sleep, Nari.”

Again, Tighnari wants to let him sleep, but Cyno’s needs take priority. “Not yet. Stay awake for me, love - can you do that?” 

Cyno sniffles sadly, but his eyes remain open, if glazed. They’re certainly bloodshot.

Tighnari cleans him up. He hopes to help ground him. Sometimes Cyno needs time to settle in a given location, and things like a warm bath can help.

It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference this time, but at least he’s no longer covered in mud and blood and… well, the sweat reappears quickly enough. Cyno all but falls into the bed, sending his partner a look of utter betrayal when Tighnari guides him to sit rather than lying down right away. He smiles in apology and squeezes Cyno’s hand. “Just a bit longer, hm? You’re doing so well.”

When Tighnari offers him water, though, any color left in Cyno’s face drains in an instant, and the next, he’s pitching forward with a retch.

“Oh–” Tighnari quickly steps back, sets the glass on a table, and helps Cyno over the edge of the bed. Nothing comes up, and it’s just strands of saliva dripping to the ground, but he heaves again and again. There’s a strangled noise, like he’s trying to speak. Tighnari tries to quiet him.

“Shhh, Cyno. Settle. It’s okay.”

“I— hurrrrgh!” His body is relentless, abdomen clenching in a cruel attempt to expel something that simply isn’t there. He groans.

“I can’t,” Cyno grates out. It hurts him to do, and he’s thrown into a violent coughing fit that devolves into more heaving and more pain. He’s shaking horribly.

“It’s okay,” Tighnari repeats. He'd do just about anything to make this stop, and yet, the only thing to do is wait it out. “Oh, Cyno… just breathe.”

When he finally regains control of himself, Cyno is gutted in a way that he can’t put words to. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and releases a single sob. Tears stream down his face - and he doesn’t understand why. Tighnari is alarmed, checking him again for injury, asking about whether he’s hurt himself internally. He shakes his head and pushes Tighnari's hands away, because there's nothing they can do to fix this.

“Need to sleep,” he moans, and it’s desperate. His stomach is going to start revolting again if he stays awake much longer, or maybe he’ll simply pass out. And he craves sleep. So, so badly. After a moment, Tighnari nods.

“That's alright, love. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

–––

Send asks here!

[beyond-the-rabbit-hole]

Guilty Party

Features: Vaquero and his Evan

Warnings: violence, morbid speech, all caps text

“missed me?" HABIT spat the words at Evan like he'd been given a pipebomb wrapped in a bow rather than a Christmas gift, "that's cute, really. hey, i'd miss me too if all i did was sit on my ass and mindlessly watch movies and beg for people to pay attention to me. oh yeah, i'm dropping the cowboy act for this one, sugarcube."

Panic in wide gray eyes huddled in the corner of the room Evan swore would be his demise- everything was tossed asunder from a little game of ring around the rosy. The couch was flipped over, the coffee table crashed into the tv, broken wood and chairs to turn the house into a landmine of splinters.

"i bet you don't even know what to do with yourself without me! if you did you wouldn't still be living this same damn life, this same damn day over and over. we'd be off somewhere new by now, wouldn't we? somewhere fun, somewhere exciting, building up a brand new life. but no, even without your HABIT you're still just like every other rabbit clinging to me. my story, my iterations, my everything."

Evan mumbled something about being trapped in the cycle, about there being no way out.

"NO, HABIT hissed, "YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT ALL OVER AGAIN BUT YOU ARE NOT AN INNOCENT VICTIM. YOU ARE BLIND, YOU CHOOSE TO BE BLIND SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE IT! BECAUSE YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH, YOU NEVER COULD!"

He crouched down in front of Evan with a wide smirk and whispered, "you want to know the truth? you want to know what's been sitting right under your nose? you could leave any time you wanted."

He waited paitently for a response, anything to reward HABIT for the enticing information he just dropped. Nothing, nothing but cowardice.

"you don't believe me," he chuckled, "all you have to do is shut up and change. change your habits. control me. you are what happens when you do not control me."

A weak protest, not a single word even worth remembering. It was a shaky, half cobbled excuse.

"JUST SHUT UP AND DO IT!" HABIT cackled, "CMON ITS THAT EASY! JUST SHUT UP AND DO IT."

Evan would laugh at that meme if he didn't feel like his very life was being threatened. Hands clamped over his ears and eyes squeezed tight so he didn't have to hear his booming voice, didn't have to see that blood-soaked smile on his very own face.

"BUT YOU WON'T WILL YOU? AFTER ALL I GAVE YOU, AFTER ALL I'D DONE FOR YOU, YOU'RE STILL JUST A COWARD. A WEAKLING, A PATHETIC LITTLE WRETCH UNDER MY HEEL. GUESS THATS MY FAULT FOR NOT MAKING YOU SOLVE YOUR OWN PROBLEMS, HUH?" Evan couldn't block it out, no matter how hard he tried. He wound up tighter into his ball. He really felt like a coward, he hid like one, trembled like one, cried like one. He wanted to snap bite fight rip tear punch but why? Why fight? He couldn't move his own body. Maybe he'd have plausible deniability if he just stayed here.

"YOU STILL WON'T ANSWER ME! HOW HILARIOUS." HABIT stomped over and smacked away Evan's arms like pieces of trash left in the room and gripped his chin. He forced Evan to look up at him with those pretty tear filled doe eyes and sunk his hand lower. Around Evan's throat now he swallowed into HABIT'S palm, gulped into it as he should. He was Evan's very life force, the very thing that got him here and the only thing keeping his dumbass alive and he would drink in air like ambrosia from his hand, at his command. And he could take it away whenever he liked. Evan's feet scraped against the wall not the floor now, brows high and knit and teeth bared in a submissive grimace with tears and sweat pooling and dripping down his face in a sopping pathetic mess the same way a dog would after its owner shoved it down into a puddle of its own piss.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING TO YOU. I PROTECTED YOU, AND I DID IT SO WELL YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE PROBLEM. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HE DID, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT OUR DAD IS DEAD AND REPLACED BY AN IMPOSTER. YEAH, LOOKING REAL SHOCKED NOW, HUH? PRICELESS. YOU SHOULD SEE THE PITIFUL PRICELESS LOOK ON YOUR FACE." he cackled. "NOPE, WRONG AGAIN! I DIDN'T DO IT THIS TIME!"

HABIT could not stop laughing. He dragged Evan up to the bathroom and ducked his head into the sink.

"AWWW WERE YOU WORRIED I WAS GONNA WATERBOARD YOU? WE DON'T EVEN HAVE RUNNING WATER DUMBASS! AND WHO'S FAULT IS THAT, HUH?"

He threw Evan down on the floor. He curled up and whimpered like HABIT had kicked him.

"I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN GET YOURSELF A PLACE WITH THE BASIC FUCKING NECESSITIES FOR YOUR OWN PITIFUL SURVIVAL. AND YOU'RE OKAY WITH THIS? I WANT MORE, WE DESERVE MORE THAN THIS BUT NO, TO YOU THE COST IS JUST TOO DAMN HIGH. ITS TOO HARD TO KEEP A FUCKING JOB WITH ALL YOUR BAD HABITS, TOO HARD TO JUMP SKIP AND A HOP INTO A BETTER TIMELINE, A BETTER LIFE FOR US BOTH. WE COULD HAVE SO MUCH MORE IF YOU STOPPED GIVING INTO YOUR BAD HABITS! BUT YOU'LL NEVER DO THAT, YOU'LL NEVER PUT AN OUNCE OF ENERGY DESPITE EVERYTHING THATS BEEN GIVEN TO YOU."

"...people have died because they loved you and wanted the best for you. and you wasted it."

Tethers sprouted from HABIT and attached to Evan, hooking their limbs together. He pulled him closer and clasped Evan's hands and spun him around like a ballerina in a music box, posed pretty and twirling beyond his own control. He went in for a dip and waggled his eyebrows at him.

Evan dropped to the floor. He glanced into the bathroom mirror. And there was just him. Tired, sunken eyes and nails dug into his skin. There was only him.

[dolls-self-ships]

Do you have any advice for drawing in the Aardman style?

alright so I'm literally in the bathtub writing this so if you would like some visuals let me know but basically- take everything you know about facial human anatomy (ok well maybe not EVERYTHING) and throw it out the window. First you're gonna want to identify the classic "aardman face" (which I actually have a sketch of and will post to this later). Expressions are often vacant, awkward, and a bit silly, but it's all part of the charm. Avoid the urge to make everything super stretchy and expressive (this is particularly hard for me bc I have put blood sweat tears and years into trying to adopt the "expressive fluid" style to my art), remember these characters are made out of plastacine, they actually look closer to how a real human face emotes than how, say, a d*sney or p*xar at character does (not as exaggerated, more grounded in reality).

Another thing I'd like to mention is that I don't copy the aardman style to an exact t, I still incorpeerate my personal tastes and how I like to draw into it (making the eyes a little more spaced, giving the chickens more wing-like hands instead of just actual humanoid hands), so don't be afraid to add your own little flavour/flare to it! That's the beauty of art is that no two people are ever going to be able to draw the same art style in the exact same way, so might as well have fun with it.

But, as a general rule for aardman, focus more on the essence of the character rather than how "aesthetically pleasing" they look. They mostly have goofy little round eyes, curved mouths (actually really similar to how smiles are drawn in Steven universe, think of the bean shape), and larger hands (I love them hehe).

I also advise just looking at behind the scenes of aardman and studying the way the figurines look, how they're moved from frame to frame, etc. Just really look at them and try your best to translate it into paper, at the end of the day it really comes down to practicing! Or just scribbling until you feel like you've made something good, that's what I do sometimes.

[toestalucia]

Kou: What? You don't…have chocolate for me this year? Can I ask why? >I heard that you can't give foxes chocolate.

LOSING MY MIND CUZ 1) <-person who literally sent that question (but seriously) to venom IM GONNNAAAAAAAA 2) captain bullying a 12yo AGAIN is so fkng funny to me. but also kou who at this point is ssooo honest.......no wonder he's getting teased LOL him & you are both so cute

Caro: Whether you're an artist or not, it's important to nurture your heart.

m...mahoyaku......

Lu Woh: Even more so if the purpose of such practice is meant for one who has piqued your interest for reproduction. I repeat—I am one of the Six Dragons.

THIS ONE MADE ME LOSE IT. LIKE FIRST HES ALL 'we 6 dragons dont need stuff like food etc to survive this is wasted provisions' THEN HE SAID THIS AND IMMMMMMMMMMMMM LMFAAOOOOOO would u like to speak with helel ben shalem about the bees and the flowers i think itd be hilarious af & hell for captain. lu woh who was too honest about vyrn to the point of pissing of captain (rare moment) to lu woh who says this i dont think i can do this anymore chat

Ragazzo: Wha? Ch-chocolate? For me? Ah… Well, I mean, it's not like I didn't notice your feelings for me or anything— Huh? You're…handing them out to everybody? R-right, yeah, I knew that. Yep. In other words, you're giving chocolate to all the crew members as a token of friendship. Thanks. I appreciate it.

ragazzo playing tough only to be hit with the 'actually i give everyone' IS SSOOOOO FUNNYYYYYY LOLLLLL GOD let this turn into captain teasing him every year. i need terrible pranks. i miss captain & seofon 'u give/get chocolate to/from other ppl?:(' shenanigans (pls read seofons vday & white days, comedy deluxe). that but onesided, considering ragazzo......

Freyr: I see. So you slipped off a cliff while trying to pick that fruit. That was rather reckless of you in such poor weather.

fullkawa honpo's alice mention !!!!!!! (its not)

Balurga: What? Your hand slipped because you were tired from staying up all night making chocolate? Skull: You stayed up? After spending the past couple days busy with requests? That means you've barely slept at all… Do you got chocolate for brains? Go to bed, right now! I'll tuck you in and sing you a lullaby if I have to! Balurga: Can't believe I'm saying this, but Skull's got the right idea. You don't gotta push yourself like that! Huh? You wanted to make chocolates for us that badly… Thanks for caring, but… I'd rather not have chocolate with your blood, sweat, and tears in it.

out of all of the new ones ive read so far this is the sweetest captain-wise,,,like...u absolute fool (endearing). also skull & balurga being so ????? go to BED!!!!!!!!! about it is something i rly like too. excellent. glad to see units & characters i rly like get seasonals i rly like

Lobelia: Let's make this a day to remember. Je t'aime, Captain.

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Utsusemi: I know that this emotion can bring no joy to a courtesan, but I can't bring myself to throw it away. Therefore… I would leave it in your care. This savage, fiery emotion… You will find it in this box. If you doubt me, then witness it with your own eyes. Captain opens the box as if in a trance, only to let out a short cry when a spring propels something out of it at high speed. Utsusemi: He… Hehe… Hahaha! Well that was a cute reaction indeed! To think that a jack-in-the-box would be so effective…

KBJAFBJKADBJKAD PLEEEEAASSEEEEE BE PRANKING VDAY/WHITE DAY BUDDIES PLLEEASEE PLEEASEE CYGAMES I NEED THIS SO BAD...NOT THE JUMPSCARE...i need to read her fate eps shes growing on me sm just from the seasonals

Meg: Ehehe. Truth be told, Mari, the one I gave you has special ingredients and is different from the rest. I hope you like it. Mari: (Wow, you were so upfront about that, it may as well have been a wedding proposal!)

me when i read mhyk

Meg: By the way, Mari, did you happen to have any chocolate for Captain? Mari: Mm-hm, sure do. Here you go, Captain. A little thank-you for all you do for us. With all the delight of the proud victor of an imagined love triangle, Mari places a miniscule piece of chocolate on Captain's pinky.

LNKADNKLADNKLADNKLADNKLADNKLADNKLDNKLA?!?!?!?!?!?! MARI...CMON....................i actually was surprised she had choco for captain THEN SHE HIT ME WITH THAAAATTT................I KNOW U LOVE MEG BUT...........god im so thankful for the megmari unit. mari is excellent. the seasonal where shes like 'ill make sure the kitchen width is just right so our shoulders brush when we cook' ??????? u r my favorite person. also when mari thought deliford was in love with sandal. lord. u need to be in every single event

Cosmos: Thought one thing Satyr said remains a mystery to me. She mentioned that skydwellers "put their love" into the chocolate. I followed her instructions to whisper my feelings to the chocolate while making a heart shape with my hands. But I remain uncertain as to whether that affected the flavor.

WHAT IS SATYR TEACHING EVERYONEEEEEEEEEEE

[witchfall]

down in the dark

confession.

Set post-EW, Izzie and Alphinaud find themselves in incredible trouble. This is what happens when you wait for the perfect moment. You get this, instead: cauterizing wounds and terrors in the dark. Kisses that taste like blood.

(Set in one of Izzie's wolverses, this time as a Viera with another fellow Viera WoL, Noel Kisne. Taken straight from doodle writing with my friend! About six years have passed from the start to ARR to the end of Endwalker, approximately. Izzie is about 2 years older than the twins.)

---

Izzie moves his blood-stained, starlight hair from his forehead and gazes down at him, like she can absorb the very concept of aetheric healing by staring hard enough.

She'd learned the very basics from Raha, but she'd be worthless without a focus, anyway, and Alphinaud's are nowhere to be seen. Not that she could work her mind around those finicky things in a pinch. Not without practice.

She could kill him without meaning to, if she tried.

All because she naively thought...well, he'd always be there anyway, wouldn't he? He or Noel or Raha. She hasn't the patience to be a healer, she always thought. But maybe what she doesn't have is the grit.

"Okay," she says. Her heart is pounding so hard. "Okay. What do we do. We're not supposed to take out stabbed things, I'm pretty sure, but you clearly can't move with it in there." She's rambling aloud. It's the only thing stopping her from lying on the floor and sobbing. "But what if I wrap you tight enough?"

"Might not be enough." He watches the ceiling, though its nothing but murky black beyond their orb of light. "...you're going to have to cauterize it."

Her heart stops beating for a moment. Cauterize. Burn him shut.

She can't. She can't. She can't see him scream in pain because of her. What if it didn't work? What if it was for nothing and her last vision of him was him passing out from pain and then promptly bleeding out? What kind of person would that make her? She might as well just throw herself from the edge of Azys Lla.

"Okay," she says, voice lifeless. "I'll do it."

A bizarre part of her laments that she would be the reason he'd have a scar on his side for the rest of his life.

"Izzie." Her name, just her name, full of questions. His voice reminds her of broken glass and it makes her heart hurt, over and over and over. "You can leave me here and find the way--"

"I'm not godsdamned leaving you, you stupid idiot! I'd rather die!" All of her emotions feel so close to the top.

She doesn't notice his hand make its way to her face, her skin wet and sticky with tears and blood. "Then...it will be alright. Won't it?"

How can he be the healer in this situation, even now? She was supposed to catch him. She promised. She nods into his hand. His fingers are slick with sweat and blood and dirt, leaving streaks on her temple. She knows what he's telling her. This is her choice. She has to make it, and be strong, and move. Always, that is her burden. She wills her hands to stop shaking.

"Tell me what to do," she says.

And so she burns him shut.

It's impossibly risky but they do it in one move. Using a similar aetheric process to how she manages her shots, Izzie heats the shrapnel as she pulls it out.

She is sure she will hear his pained scream in her nightmares. At the very end, he passes out. Her heart stops beating, even as she by rote tears fabric from her fine new skirts and begins wrapping it around his middle, shirt pushed up so she can see.

She ties it off. He still doesn't move. Don't think about it.

She straddles his body, keeping her weight upon her own knees, and she leans over his face, her hands curled into his collar.

"Alphinaud. Please wake up."

A moment passes. Two.

His eyes flutter open, even as his mouth bends into a grimace. Her hands fly to his face again. She leaves more bloodstains.

"Oh, my gods, oh, seven holy hells, Alphinaud, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I--"

"It's alright," he says, impossibly. "I'm here."

And in a flutter of emotions and fears and relief, she leans down and kisses him right on the mouth.

He tastes like blood and sweat, and she pulls away before it can become anything more. But the light in his eyes changes -- brightens from their daze. He searches her face, over and over and over.

Why...did she do that?

"Can you move?" she whispers in the dark.

"I won't be fast," he says. She senses some joke, hiding in the depths of his painful grimace. "Long legs or no."

"That's why I'm here." She tries a bawdy grin, but all she can taste is his blood.

---

They rise together, shaking legs and groans of pain.

Alphinaud's arm around her shoulder tightens so hard she has to bite her cheek to distract from new pain. Her arms circle his chest, doing everything in her power to try and keep some weight off his major injury.

Her aetherotransformer hangs off her hip, casting them in a pool of light.

"Is the silence..."

"Not yet," he says through gritted teeth. "It may not. Until we find the others."

Her head is at his collarbone. She leans into his body, and for a fleeting, stupid moment, she thinks about burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing until she can't breathe anymore. Thinks about absorbing the essence of him like it might also take away his pain.

"I'm sorry," she mutters again. In answer, his hand tightens around her shoulder.

"I will never regret it," he says, unusually short-winded.

Sure. But she might regret the need of it, she thinks to snap. What is she in his life, but a source of pain?

And then, impossibly, the darkness on their skin loosens like sifted dirt. Like rain is falling, and they are cleansed...

She takes in a breath. She hadn't realized how short it had been, until she could finally expand her lungs in full. No corruption left to be found.

"They did it," she whispers. "It's over."

His body sags slightly in relief. Her body screams at her, but she would take all of his weight, should he need it. It was the least she could do. It was the least that she owed.

And so they scan about the room, looking for any possible exit.

They search for long enough that they have to sit in exhaustion, still curled into one another's side, certain that without the other they'd collapse.

They sit facing the one lead they could find in the bizarre, too-smooth room. The closest thing to a closed door: the signs of a failing seal in the wall.

Gods above.

Noel will find me, Izzie wills. I know she will.

They sit in silence for long enough it becomes maddening.

And then Alphinaud decides to break the silence by asking: "Did you mean to...did you...mean to--"

"Kiss you?"

Might as well put it out there. His returning silence is answer enough.

Except its not. He never could leave well enough alone. "Because I simply wish to, ah, follow your lead and I would be fine to...I mean to say that I..."

Some part of her finds it hilarious that this is how they are having this discussion. But it's better than sitting scared and exhausted in the dark -- if only barely.

"You'd forget it if I asked," she says.

"If you asked." His voice is quiet. Unreadable. Diplomatic. "Things...happen in the heat of emotion and battle and I wouldn't hold it against you."

Does she want that? Would it be better for him if he did? Her fingers drift to her lips, even so. How does she feel about it? Why did she do it?

"You're..." Ridiculous, she wants to say. Insane. "I don't kiss people just on a stupid whim." Except she literally just did. So that's a lie. Or. Is it?

Her own reaction, however, is smothered by the way his body almost jolts just a smidgen straighter. His eyes meet hers, shadowed by his matted hair, and the wide openness of her face makes some deep part of her keen.

"Really?" he asks.

She nearly laughs for the foolishness of it. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She's not prepared for him to lean down and kiss her back.

Soft. Blood, still, always there, and her own tears, yes -- but a gentleness that makes her tear up. Fleeting as the connection is. Just their mouths touching, really, is all it is. He knows even less about kissing than she does.

But when he pulls away, she finds herself stunned, anyway. "Why did you--"

"You tend to appreciate evenness in these things."

"...Alphinaud." She turns away and stares at the sliver of light in the wall. She hates how well he knows her. Hates the comfort of it in a moment like this, where she doesn't think she deserves it. She is torn between laughing at him and crying. "I'm...you don't have to...do that."

"I need to tell you something important." No. No. Not in the dark in Azys Lla, no, that is not how this is supposed to go. She stiffens under his arm and in response, he loosens his grip on her. But she returns it ten-fold. No, she thinks. You don't get to leave me like this, either. So he barrels onward. A shield wall running forth. "I understand the pressure this statement will put on you," he says, at least now the shadow of his orator self. "But I would never hold it against you, no matter what, and I will never...I could never..." "Just fucking say it." "It will only ever be you, Izzie. Only you. I am not sure there could ever be anyone else." She closes her eyes, heart in her throat, buoyed by fear and...and... "You don't know that for sure," she says into the dark. "...what?"

Shadows pass behind the door, or is it her imagination?

Is it...could she... An idea forms. A wild, insane, crazy idea. Anything to get out of this discussion, right now.

"Look," she says. "I'd rather die than live in a world where you aren't somehow mine. I mean, with me," she says.

She ignores the way his breath catches in his throat, the way his whole body tenses beneath her, not from pain but from...whatever this is. Ignores it, and presses on.

"So that means I have to get you out of here safely. So we can talk about your future properly."

"...but not also yours?"

"I don't think that far ahead," she lies, brazen. "I have a stupid idea. But I think it will get us out of here."

[solfirafira]

A few days ago, I was in the kitchen making my way through some pancakes I made for breakfast when my mother came sauntering down the stairs with her open laptop propped up on her arm, clearly with the intention to show me something she had come across on Youtube. Placing the laptop on the table, she clicked the play button and we started to watch the video linked above. She wanted to see what I thought of it, saying "Hey look at Edison Chen scold this interviewer lady." I took another bite of my pancake.

What has he done this time?

For context, this is not the first time I'd heard of Edison. Born and raised in America, he was scouted and soon became a well-known actor in Hong Kong. Later, he was embroiled in scandal when he became the victim of a major photo leak that involved NSFW photos of many well-known Hong Kong actresses and made international news, shortly followed by yet another photo leak that involved a 16-year-old model. Later, I learned that he had moved back to America to start his own luxury clothing brand. Safe to say that when his name pops up, the first thing I think of is the scandal.

As I watched the video, I was expecting to immediately side with the interviewer. But as the video progressed, I found myself empathizing with Edison, understanding the perspectives of both parties, and found it a fascinating example of a bigger issue that Edison touches on in the video.

As evidenced with the advent of AI being explored in all aspects of the Art industry (traditional & digital art, writing, music, film, etc.), the discourse surrounding the topic of whether society as a whole respects Art and the making of Art when it can be easily automated with the click of a button has resurfaced and is calling a lot of what people believe about Art into question.

To be clear, by Art what I mean is the expression of the self. The part that has something they want to say, so they pick their medium of choice and use that as a channel for their thoughts and feelings. That's the Making of the Art, and then there's the Marketing and Distribution of the Art if they so choose to want to share it with others, and then there's the Consumption of the Art which is ultimately out of the creator's control but has the potential to become a spark of inspiration for other creators to start their own cycle of Art. This is the basic process of how Art travels from the brain of the creator to the brain of the public. It's clear that in the context of the video, the product they're trying to promote is part of the Making process, while the interview is a part of the Marketing process. Simple, right?

But hold on a second, why is Edison so heated? He doesn't even look like he wants to be there. The clash, I believe, lies at the crossroads of the Making of the Art and the Consumption of Art. Here we have an artist who has put a lot of heart, time, and effort in creating this Art, who now wants to Market their Art to their target audience, only to be faced with an interviewer who can be considered a passive consumer at best, and also unfortunately caught not having done her due diligence.

As an artist, the Making of the Art is almost a sacred process. Everyone has their own way of going about it, and a lot of the time it's a lot of blood, sweat and tears poured into this piece of work. There's a piece of our Selves that is included in the work. On the other hand, Consumption of Art can be a rather passive process from the perspective of the "normie" because obviously we're not talking about the people who vibe with the art, the active consumers who may take it as a direct representation of their identity. We're talking about someone who probably was told a few days prior that she would be interviewing this guest, probably had decent past experience interviewing guests in general, but was unexpectedly taken out of her element when asked to go off-script.

This disconnect is a fascinating phenomenon to witness when both parties are simultanously having separate realizations at once. That when the Creator moves out of the Making of the Art stage, they are effectively relinquishing control of how it is consumed, that regardless of the blood, sweat and tears poured into a piece of work, there will always be a gap between the Creator and the Consumer and that's okay. That for the Interviewer, she is immediately faced with the responsibility of the position she's put herself in, the expectations that guests expect from her professionally, faced with someone who wants to speak and connect with her as a person, not as the interviewer who has cards to follow and a strict schedule to adhere to.

At the end of the day, I don't hold it against Edison for the things he said in this video. I do think he could have exercised some self-control and held back on a portion of it as it seemed he kept going once the main point was made, but otherwise it wasn't uncalled for as he did still stay in his seat when there was always the option to walk out. As for the Interviewer, I hope she's learned her lesson in making sure she does her due diligence prior to interviewing guests. Their time is precious, her time is precious, the entire staff and camera crew's time is precious, and it was all essentially wasted on what could have been a way to connect as humans and make art.

When the video ended and my mother and I had nothing left to comment on, she headed back upstairs with the laptop, presumably to continue watching one of her many chinese dramas that she has on rotation. I, on the other hand, realized I had made one too many pancakes and left the remainder on the table for my father to find when he wakes up as I headed back to my room.

[wxfq]

myst raven

Surrounded by feathers such I'm shedding 

As they vaguely direct me,towards the nest

The nest, the root evil, such pathetic breeding ground

Such scrumptious corpse it will be, though much

Much fanciful than my dried scalp, that is

Filled with rot, as it's bleeding rather camouflaged

Like a scarlet dragon? Engulfed into its flames

Or rather, brooding in its flames, lurking, even 

Call it cretive drive how'd I, sacrifice all for this exodus

This rather, wishful, exodus I must go in, in search of 

That raven nest, laid with accursed eggs, rather uncausal

Rather scary? Or rather disgusting as I feel the bloody yolk

As the bloody yolk marinates in the shell, marinates the shell

Such parasitic, pathetic, sight. Still rather erotic to the blind

Or to the blinded? Such blinded may not follow my exodus 

Not in their pathetic, flesh form, that is 

I'd like those crewmen marinated, rather plucked by ravens 

Almost crying out as their. Pupil and vocal chords, plucked alike

Asthough the ravens won't need tear and sweat, to distill 

Distill, the blood gin, for it's strong for even the fetal alcoholic 

Let said men be loving, to have love scratched out is worse

Worse, for the better, to not instill hate, but install it

Have it, loaded in by default, strengthened as scars are

And may those men cry, cry for more wrath that is, sadism's sake

And the spite, natural, first nature dismay made them competent

Too competent to see, dare I say against their loving nature

As it flourished or did it? 'honestly it did', surely.

Their competence, leading me content, rather

As the cosmic irony played out, like it does

The raven nest was above my eyes, actively trying to hide them

As the neat twigs had a banter with my eye bags,

As they tried to extrapolate the tears too

And those men, I mourn for them, not for their demise

Not theirs, but rather their objectives' dying out

As my memory remains clear as day, as they

Did what my cues told, rather blissfully 

As to destroy the raven nest like I wanted

They too, did peck, peck out, likewise

Funnily the disobedience outwheys the latter

It outweighs it sure, but it outfades out, equally 

And what did remain of my body, a lot actually 

With the nest scratched off, the crimson sandpaper

It almost smoothed out my sins, asthough 

Though, fanciful only, the sins will grow back, unlike the nest

But alas the purposeless men found purpose

Scavenging every nest off, like a twisted robinhood

A hedonistic but joyless robinhood

The robinhood reassigned to be sisphyn

But more space for me, disgracefully 

As the crown of thorns solidifies

It digs in, quite a lot, peacefully 

As I bleed out everything, my mylean sheath 

It unsheathes into a dagger, undrenchable

I raise purposeless, ineffable

The dagger hard, couldn't decay with the nest 

For now it kisses my hand and asks, with dignity 

'Who are you, raven'

'Shall I make the cuts plenty or unsettling '

'For you are here, to fade away:

'So what is your will, raven?'

'To be or not to be?'

The question never answered, cheers to dismay

The dust settles on dry walls, bountiful decay

Wafiq shouldn't get to scream, as the chord is slain away

'now you are like my men'

Or am I?

[thehoundwrites]

Nightmares

Werewolf!Sevika x female reader: Part 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

CW: dead dove do not eat, dark content, blood, gore, injuries, reader has a break down, nightmare, attachment issues, suicide mentions, animal attack, guns, alcohol, violence, smoking, possessive Sevika

Shout out to @nora-xox for being my beta reader

Tagging: @sevikasleftpussyflap (you convinced me to post this first) @nora-xox @colourfulkidglitter @midnightsk13s @iwritesmuttyfics @witxhy-lexx @biphrogg @thebleccbird @lucky13les @petitepersephone

Words: 1876

The transformation is something you'll never forget, the feeling of your bones breaking your skin ripping apart at it's seems, to your own volition. The choice you have to make, do I put the gun to my mouth and end it all. Or do I change.

No one ever chooses the former. Except one.

His greying beard fell with his jaw, blood covering his large now bare chest as I frantically moved to patch his wounds as he taught me. The claw marks of a beast tearing him, as it did me. His eyes somehow held the hope he always spoon fed to others. I however knew the truth. He was just as terrified as the rest of us.

The fire he held in them faded. "Vi… Powder" he croaked eyes maintaining contact with them.

"C'mon now, you know they're fine"

"No"

"They're sitting over there resting, see" it was hard hiding the panic in my voice. It usually came naturally. Like an instinct to hide.

"Wasn't-" his words slurred lowly basically croaking through his stiff body.

"VANDER."

"Hmm, protect our family Sevika"

"They're okay"

"No- That wasn't an animal"

"It was a wolf Sir"

"A werewolf"

My silence left him the opening he was waiting for.

The next thing that happened was one I'd never forget, I wouldn't have known what he did if I didn't notice the movement in his hands.

"The family Sev"

But then he slumped and his blood splattered over my white T Shirt.

Sevika sat straight up, her grey eyes practically glowing in the dark, her scars going up her ribs stung in pain. She was warm, sweat dripped down her forehead, and when she wiped it away she noticed tears.

She wore nothing but a black tank top and boxers, yet she walked to the kitchen to grab some water, and check on the girl. Her eyes flashed into the dark seeing your face made her stiffen, there was a peaceful look and you snuggled with your pillow. She took a few sips of her drink watching your peaceful slumber before laying back down.

She tested her palms on the cold satin sheet that was splayed out across her mattress. She could clean them all she wanted but she could never get the blood off of them.

Yea. She wasn't going back to bed. Sevika grabbed a bottle of jack, and sat on the couch across from you and lit a cigar, sighing heavily letting the tension leave her chest, yet quiet enough so you wouldn't wake. You'd think she'd stop having nightmares after ten years.

(Your pov)

The pognant stench of cigars is one that didn't leave your nose for a while. Although you much preferred this dry aroma to the copper smell of the night before.

Your eyes lingered across the thick of her body, as she walked away. Inside of you, you were rather conflicted from everything that's happened. You wanted to trust her, the fact that she saved you, the fact that you're alive. All screamed for you to throw yourself at her knees and thank her. Yet there was a part of you that told you this was a horrible idea, that you should run. That's she was a monster, she must've killed that guy, but. Who else has she killed?

Your memories flared as you tried to recall more of the attack, you tried and tried but it only came rushing back to you bits and pieces.

That was the woman who was drenched in blood, carrying you away from the attack. She must've bandaged you, dressed you, fed you. But why?

You weren't sure why you stayed either. In fact the feeling of anxiety never left your side despite the reluctance you had for moving at the moment.

Your hands lingered over the spots of your body the woman's fingers had touched. How much had she seen? A sense of embarrassment made your face pale and your stomach queasy.

You were out. And when you woke up you felt a bit of a wet spot on your pillow. Your body must've needed it.

The pain wasn't excruciating today, in fact it was rather bearable. You could feel most of your body, and the bandages no longer were soaked with blood.

You remember calling your friend and hearing their ringtone yet they weren't around.

Your hands sifted through your clothes, today she had brought out a black T-shirt and more sweatpants.

How many grey sweatpants can one woman own?

But your phone wasn't there. Anxiety fled turning into full on panic, if you didn't have your phone how could anyone contact you?

"What's up"

The gruff voice startled you, you looked up and your eyes widened.

"How long have you been there?"

Silence. She didn't seem to want to be friendly.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Why did you save me?"

"I plugged your phone in over there." The woman said pointing next to your couch behind your head.

"Oh" you let out a sigh of relief "thank you"

She snorted, smirking a bit.

"Names Sevika"

"Wh- Oh. That's a nice name"

"Tsk" you noticed the bottle of whiskey in one hand while the other raised a cigarette to her lips.

"Rough night?"

"What d'yo think kid?"

You scolded yourself in your head but stayed silent looking at your phone. It wasn't early, it was almost midday.

"My name's ____"

"I know"

"Oh"

Silence again. She wasn't very good at holding conversations.

"I'm Rans friend."

"Y'know Ran!?" You smiled at her eyes lit up with a new gleam.

"They're practically family"

"Oh shit! Do they know what happened?"

She huffed and pulled herself to the couch, you couldn't help but notice her eyes linger.

"How did you meet that vampire?"

"Are you gonna answer any questions?"

"No, and you won't be leaving until you answer my questions"

"YOU CAN'T JUST KEEP ME HERE!"

"I can, answer"

"I uh, I met him at the bar."

You felt her tense

"Do you go to back alleys with strange men all the time or what?"

"NO of course not, what do you take me for sevika?"

"Dumb. Bad judge of character, a problem, kinda pretty"

"Pretty?"

"Is that really what you're taking from this?"

"What other questions do I have to answer before I'm released"

She sighed. "Why do you have to be so difficult"

"What did I even do now?"

"Nothing, Rans gonna be here soon so calm down"

"Okay"

"Is Ran a wolf too? They don't have ears"

"Rans a different type of wolf."

You knew you weren't going to get anymore out of her so you took the jack from her hand and took a swig grimacing at the taste.

"That tastes like shit"

She laughed, and you caught the small smile that peered on her face as she sat down next to you

"You'll learn to love it." She said, patting your shoulder softly. That soft touch lit a fire in both of you and you looked at her.

She cleared her throat "D'you need anything, breakfast, toothbrush, shower?"

"Not yet, my body is still really numb"

Her grey eyes scanned your body. "You were missing a lot of blood"

She got up, your body already missed the heat she was giving off. She came back in and tossed a bottle of water at you.

"Drink, I have to let ran in"

You nodded, grabbing the water bottle. It made you feel a bit nauseous to put something in your mouth but it'll make you feel better so you take a few small sips.

Rans voice was familiar to you, and when you heard it you got excited. "Ran!"

Their figure appeared in the doorway behind Sevika as they both walked in together sitting on the couch across from you.

"Hey angel, I'm glad you're doing okay.'

Sevika chimed in "it probably hasn't hit yet."

And to no one's surprise it did when she said it. Your head spun recalling the horrifying events of the other night, your eyes zoned out, and you were back. There with him.

"Oh my God"

"Shit" you heard Sevika curse. Ran got up over to you and flicked the lighter in your face, which made you snap out of your trance.

"He can't hurt you, you're under our protection."

"But- he had so many bodies Ran"

"It's okay he can't hurt anyone else."

"Oh my God, I can't go back can I"

"One thing at a time." The. You felt a bit of a familiar hand on your thigh, the one that lights your nerves aflame. And a deep gruff voice "it'll be okay, you can stay here with the pack. And we can still do normal things, we all work at a bar and you can work there too"

Your blushed looking at her her face was so close, her grey eyes lingered on you her thumb moving back and forth on the clothing that covered your skin.

"But my friends-"

"Are safer without you"

Ran cut in "for now, until we can guarantee your safety"

"But I don't get it, why me." Sevika stood quickly making you flinch. Before her calloused fingers gripped your cheeks holding your head in both her hands. They were touch and veiny, tattoos covering one of them, it almost made her arm look mecha.

"Look at me" you couldn't help the way your eyes darted to her lips as she leaned in her hot breath inches away from you.

"It's going to be okay"

"But-" your eyes darted down.

"Her thumb lifted your chin "Look at me" you nodded and raised your eyes mumbling and apology.

"It's gonna be okay I promise"

(Sevika time)

It was magnetic, the way her voice sounded, the way she looked at me, the way she breathed. My gut turned threatening to flip, yet my stayed composed.

Until Ran comforted her. I got… angry..

But then I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to help her. I needed to. And I did. But the way she stared at my lips, the way I can feel her emotions, her sadness, her rage, her fear, her excitement to see Ran, her lust for me. It was all threatening the beast and my stomach churned.

Sevika ended up leaving shortly after you put on TV and fell back to sleep.

"What's wrong with you"

"What"

"You're acting weird"

Sevika sipped her coffee "I'm not doing this"

"What happened while I was gone"

"Nothing I couldn't sleep so I drank, the usual"

"We're best friends you know you can tell me anything"

"Good to know."

"What do you wanna fuck her?"

"I wanna fuck you what's the difference?"

"Oh so you wanna date her."

"Ran you're almost 30 years old"

"Sevika and ___ sitting in a tree"

"Enough" Sevika said, a growl in her words. And that was all it took. "I'm the alpha not you"

"Yea, sorry"

"I have to keep order, friends or not. If you step out of line then what? Dustin? Shoola? Lock? How do you think HE would feel about Lock, Ran."

"Okay I'm sorry I get it."

"But you're acting weird"

She sighed, tossing her cup in the sink and walking out.

[beneathashadytree]

MASTERPIECE - ARMIN ARLERT X READER

Warnings : this is set after the timeskip of course, not specified if this is canonverse or modern AU, handjob, almost-blowjob, cum swallowing, sub!Armin, dom!reader, implied overstimulation, implied edging and orgasm denial, Armin is kinda loud, one mention of blood, implied dacryphilia, Armin has a praise kink, very very light bondage, begging, implied corruption kink, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : smut, but they're in love lmao

Word count : 0.9K words

Synopsis : Nothing was ever more pleasing than the sight of a needy Armin Arlert being repeatedly brought to the edge.

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

"F-fuck."

A stuttered curse, breathed into the heat of the room, blond head thrown back in tandem with the word and looking statuesque as he did---he looked like a painting of perfection, one that I'd painted in my own colors. Crystalline eyes welled with tears, almost heartwrenchingly beautiful as the smell of copper permeated the air, lips stained with rustic red as pearly white teeth snagged on a plump lower lip.

He was nothing short of ethereal; breathtaking in every angle of his chin, every involuntary jerk of his hips. Armin Arlert was reduced to putty in my hands, and yet he somehow resembled an angel even Michelangelo would revere and envy.

Panting and huffing, he writhed, weeping cock pulsing in my hand, almost adorably eager as his bound hands struggled against the fabric of the silken tie. Seeing him so desperate and begging for more without actually saying the words pulled a smirk onto my face, one that only grew wider as he leaked more precum into my fist as I pumped his cock, his veins pulsating against my palm.

"Look at you, such a pretty boy," I murmured, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his tip, reveling in the way he whined at the contact of my lips to his sensitive head, "Really, you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen, baby."

Armin groaned, "P-please. Can't hold back much longer. 'S been an hour," almost as though his muscles were remembering the sixty long minutes of torturous edging I'd put him through, his thighs trembled as his hands tried---and failed---to seek purchase in my hair; to bring me down to his aching cock.

But really, how was I to blame, when his face when nearing the edge was so captivating that it was almost otherworldly? When his sweet voice sang of how good I was making him feel, how close he was to cumming, how much he wanted me to use him? He was the epitome of eroticism in its most beautiful form, and I couldn't resist toying with him like that when he was right in the palm of my hand---quite literally too.

Pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat and a sensual red blush, Armin's chest heaved with every moan that escaped his swollen lips. My hand tightening as I picked up the pace, urging the most melodious sounds out of him, I couldn't help myself and found my lips trailing delicate kisses from his base to his hipbone and back again, tracing an invisible line only I could see. Pride filled me at the knowledge that only I could bring him to a state of ruin like this; that he was all mine to devour completely and leave a wanton mess every single time.

"I think you deserve to cum," I whispered, knowing that I was lightly tickling him as he shivered, abdominal muscles taut as I peppered more kisses, "You're rather responsive today, huh?"

With a fervent nod, his eyes glazed over, no longer thinking nor speaking coherently. His tongue just lolled out of his mouth, panting as he drooled with no self-awareness or restraint. Lost in the haze of pleasure as I fisted his angry red cock even faster, he could only whimper my name half-heartedly, hands close to ripping their ties from behind his back. I only barely had time to wrap my lips around his tip before he was jerking up into my mouth, the warmth no doubt sending him hurtling over the edge with a garbled whine and uncontrollable sobs as I swallowed the thick ropes of cum that seemed endless, hips completely raised as he arched his back off the bed in a sight that could only be described as pornographic.

Such an innocent boy, and yet such a filthy sight he was when he was in my bind. Pulling back as I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, I watched the way he came down from his dizzying high like a predator would watch its prey. And really, even as he laid on his side, hands still tied and wrists red from the effort of tugging against their hold, eyes fluttering shut as he curled into the mattress, soft hair fanning out underneath his head, I still felt the overwhelming hunger rise at the sight of him.

But I had to hold back, knowing that my beautiful boy was probably beyond spent, and I only ever wanted to make him feel good---so good, in fact, that he'd collapse into an exhausted heap like that every single time I was done with him, cheeks tearstained and glowing rosy red with sex or the like.

Untying my lover's raw wrists and kissing them gently as his breathing evened out, I rubbed the skin, making sure that not a single mark of pain would ever last on his perfect skin.

"There we go," I mumbled finally, kissing his temple as he always liked me to do; even in his almost-unconscious state his lips curled up into a tired half-smile, and it took all the strength in me to stop at pulling up the bedsheets to his chest and doing nothing more lewd, "Sleep well, handsome."

Armin Arlert was my perfectly wrecked masterpiece, after all, and art could only ever be cherished and treasured.

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @thispersoniscrazy @blondeboyfriend

[blackindiaink]

Scylla changing Raelles clothes and washing the blood off her after 2x7. Or like idn Abigail seeing how soft she is or something like that. I don't know

When they returned to the house, I carried Raelle in myself. Abigail followed behind, huffing the whole time. Nothing mattered except Raelle so she was easy to ignore. At least her friend was helpful, getting the door open and turning on the lights.

I settled Raelle on the bed and then went to find a washcloth. I soaked it in warm water and returned to the bedroom to find Abigail hovering over Raelle.

"I'll take care of her," I said.

"If you do anythi-" Abigail started.

"I would never hurt Raelle," I protested.

I relaxed my clenched hand and looked straight into Abigails eyes.

"I love her," I said.

Abigail's cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips.

"I'll be right out there," she said.

Once she was gone, I turned back to Raelle. It was understandable that she would be protective of her friend. I'd given them no reason to trust me and there was no telling what the Army had told them all about me. Probably mostly the truth but without context.

I pushed all that away from my consciousness and pushed Raelle's hair away from her face. She was so beautiful. It hurt to look at her and know all the things she'd been through, all the things I'd put her through. I'd lied earlier. I had hurt Raelle and I'd alienated the one person I had in the world that mattered in the process.

I started to wipe the blood away from her face. It was sticky and dried, mixed with the sweat that had beaded on her skin as she was being tortured. Tears welled in my eyes before I closed them and sucked in a deep breath.

That wasn't what was needed. She was alive and I was here touching her, feeling the softness of her skin again. I tried not to focus on that. She made it clear how she felt the last time we saw one another. I just wanted to care for her and make it more comfortable for when she woke up.

I figured it was better if I changed her clothes rather than Abigail. At least I'd seen her naked and that thought sent my mind right back to those moments. I'd committed them to memory, reliving them before I slept at night. The way she looked at me back then, the adoration. It was the only time I'd ever felt seen and loved.

No one else had bothered to look past the ideals and the anger. Raelle saw something else, she saw my capacity for love. I'd never known that I was a love fighter until I'd met her. It didn't matter if she forgave me, I'd make damn sure she was safe and okay even if it meant giving up my life like Willa had.

I carefully took off her shirt and then her jeans, deciding to leave her underwear and bra since they weren't badly stained. I managed to get the sweats on her with little issue. I was afraid she'd wake up the whole time but whatever they'd done to her had taken a toll.

When I'd finished dressing her, I leaned down and kissed her forehead, unable to stop myself. I could still her shampoo and my throat caught, all that love hitting my heart. This girl was it for me. There was no one else. I could only pray to the goddess that she would give me another chance someday.

[short-for-melancholy]

As the swordsmaids carry the emissary's body away, it resembles nothing quite so much as a pincushion, riddled with blades as it is. In my distracted immaturity, I was too late to stop them from rushing in, weapons out, and skewering the emissary for such a flagrant display of disrespect. I sigh heavily as the knight captain wipes a drop of blood from my cheek.

'Mine apologies, your majesty,' she says through gritted teeth. 'If I'd been but a little more wary, you'd not have suffered such indignity. A poor showing to repay you the life your majesty spared but moments prior. 'Twould be improper to ask that mine head be payment enough after your… earnest… plea, but know that my life is yours to do with as you will.'

'My loyal knight, I mourn not for the blood upon my gown, nor the entrails upon the carpet, woven though it is of dragonmink-fur,' I say, raising her face in my hand to look upon me once more. 'Rather, I mourn the death of the emissary, whose patience and boldness were—wait, what dost thou mean, 'earnest'?'

'N-n-nothing, your majesty!' the knight captain splutters, eyes darting back and forth to escape my piercing glare. 'I dare not speak ill of your majesty, nor your, um, unpracticed technique, so to say—'

'Say'st thou that I am a poor kisser!?'

'Perish the thought, your majesty!' She begins to sweat anew, as though 'twas summer in the chilly throne room. ''Tis quite expected that your majesty might lack experience in such things! You are yet unwed, despite your many suitors, in whom you show no interest! To claim your majesty a skillful kiss would heap disgrace upon your honor! I dare not rank you with the common whores, who sacrifice chastity for an… erudite tongue…'

'Hast thou twined thy tongue with prostitutes, my knight!?' Her freckled cheeks, as red as blood, reveal the truth to me 'ere she does.

''T-t-twas but in my youth, your majesty!' she cries. 'Mine elder sister didst bring me up to the brothel upon mine eighteenth nameday, and bought for me a single night of revelry with her own coin!'

'Thou hast lain with them!?'

'I beg of you, your majesty, 'twas naught but courtesy which forced mine hand!' Her moistened eyes glimmer with tears as the light above illuminates her as 'twould a fallen saint in holy iconography. ''Twould be far too rude to turn down so dear a gift, from one so beloved as she!'

'How beloved be thine elder sister to thee, my knight?' I ask with eyebrow raised in question.

'Well, now thou art simply being silly,' the knight captain responds, hand upon her hip as she turns away. 'Never hath I lain with mine own sister, be that what thou art asking.'

'I merely sought to know,' I say. ''Tis impossible to know with thee, who hath lain with all manner of women.'

'Prithee remove thine head from thine own arse, your majesty!' she rounds upon me. ''Twas but once, a single time! Your majesty hadst not yet even entered into my life! His majesty the high king still yet lived!'

'Speak ye the truth, my knight?' I ask.

'Only thus, your majesty, as ever I have sought to do.'

'Your loyalty remains unmarred? Your devotion unsullied?'

'As ever it has, your majesty, and as ever it shall be.' She kneels before me, radiant in the light above.

'Come, then, my loyal knight.' I beckon to her as I pass by, making for the door.

'Where you go, I follow, your majesty, but where?'

'Why, the brothels, of course! I'll not have some common wench besmirch mine honour! Tonight, my loyal knight, we shall sample fare across all the capital, losing ourselves, I in my research and you in your pleasure, and come morning I shall show unto you the fruits of mine efforts!'

A smile like the dawn breaks across the knight captain's peerless face. 'Yes, your majesty!'

hey mel can I give you a singular head pat

i perform an elaborate and somehow anatomically smug bow and present my head to you at patting height.

'such insolence!!' cries the knight captain as her swordmaidens draw steel. 'you'll pay for this disrespect toward her majesty!'

her words echo from the mouths of the swordmaidens discordantly. woefully out of sync. their timing could use some work. a problem for another time, perhaps, as their blades rush to pierce the thin flesh of your neck.

'hold!' my voice rings with authority, seeming almost to freeze the swordmaidens in place a hairsbreadth from your throat.

'b-but your majesty!' the knight captain kneels at my side so that she does not stand taller than me when she speaks.

'it is fine,' i say magnanimously. 'in good faith was the offer made, and in good faith have i debased myself to accept it.'

'but your majesty, you ought not debase yourself for such filth!' the knight captain's voice chips, but does not break.

'do my words hold no value to you, captain?' i ask, venom in my eyes as i look down at her. i have not moved from my position, and the muscles in my legs have begun to tremble as i am unused to bowing for any save my father in his previous reign as high king. 'are mine edicts to be ignored? mine orders to be trampled beneath your feet?'

'no, your majesty!' she lowers her head in submission.

'am i no better than a common servant, lacking the right even to make mine own decisions?'

'no, your majesty!'

'am i not your high queen, ruler and protector of your land and people? do i not deserve your respect!?'

'you are and do, your majesty!' she falls prostrate at my feet. 'forgive me! if it should please you, i shall atone even with mine own life!' the knight's captain draws her shining golden blade and holds it aloft in both hands, offering it to me that i might cut her down.

'um. should i come back later?' you ask, looking from me to her in trepidation.

'stay,' i say. 'we shall be interrupted for but a few moments longer.'

i ignore the discomfort writ plainly on your face as i rise to my full stature and extend my delicate hand toward the weapon. the knight captain swallows her fear, sweat dripping down her face. my fingers wrap around the black dragon-leather grip, brushing against hers as they do so. she flinches.

'thank you, your majesty,' she says. her voice is choked with anguish, but her determination gleams through like silver beneath a roiling sea.

i reach my other hand to the weapon, cupping it around the contours of her own. her skin is tough and calloused, the product of some fifteen years' concerted effort. beneath my soft, unblemished palm, i feel her quake with terrified acceptance. the sweat and blood she must have shed for my sake plead silently with me for mercy, that their sacrifice for her might not have been in vain. is this truly justice? that a soul so valiant, so pure, could be snuffed out at the whim of one who has done naught but emerged from her exalted mother and sat upon a throne? is it justice, too, that this soul in its devotion must swallow its morals and deliver death to those beneath it for an offense willingly taken? the sea of inequity that floods this kingdom, my kingdom, laps at my feet once more. beneath the waves, untold thousands drown in my name, far out of sight, that my blessed eyes might be spared the grisly sight. it sickens me to my core.

'my loyal knight.' i lift her hand, raising her to her feet. her eyes snap open, trembling as they lock with mine. she tries to avert her gaze, for to look into the queen's eyes is a grievous affront, but i gently turn her chin back to me. 'are there any in this kingdom who have served so faithfully as you? who can match your love for me? but give me a name, and i shall gladly do as you have asked.'

'y-your majesty...' tears well up in the knight captain's eyes, spilling out and etching rivulets across her freckled cheeks. 'surely there must be one, though i cannot name her.'

'and who might know better than you, my knight?'

'i could not say, your majesty,' she says.

'nor could i.' a warm smile splits across my face. 'it seems i shall have to let you remain by my side until she is found, would you not agree?'

'i-if this be your majesty's will, it is not my place to disagree,' she says.

'then so be it,' i whisper. the knight captain's cheeks flush deep red as my face reaches for her, and her eyes widen as our lips meet. she is salt and sweat in my mouth, and a hint of the gravy from the knights' canteen, but i bat away the thoughts of kitchen reform and cooking lessons, saving them for less precious moments. passing by her gentle lips, my tongue explores the crevasses of her crooked teeth, hidden shamefully behind set jaw and stalwart grimace, a reminder of her common origins. even now i felt her recoil in my arms, unwilling to bare her imperfection to her queen. how i wish she'd smile more for me...

a swordsmaid clears her throat, and we break apart, the knight captain panting with emotion and i with exertion, as i am not in the best of shape. i remember that we have a guest.

'your patience befits one of much greater station, my friend,' i say, turning back to you as the knight captain hastily returns her sword to its sheath and straightens her uniform.

'no, uh, yeah, its fine.' you look around awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. a light blush paints your cheeks a childish pink. it is a little bit cute, though my station permits me not to say such things aloud.

'as you were, then.' i perform an elaborate and somehow anatomically smug bow and present my head to you at patting height.