#source: freefall

[incorrectlotm]

Klein: Fear is easy. Fear is cheap. Instead of fear, I'm going to give the people hope.

Amon: Fear versus hope. Hardly an even match.

Klein: That's because you think of hope as something light and fragile. My version of hope has calluses and dirt under the fingernails and isn't above bringing brass knuckles to a fight.

[mrcrunchybones]

finally have a main menu set up but now that means I am fighting for my life trying to learn Source modding (I am in Hell (thematically and narratively consistent with Freefall))

[fail-eacan]

The feeling of knowing that where you’re going is worse than where you are and choosing it anyway

Is this something people know? Is it only me that gets so hooked on it

On the high of free-falling to new lows you could easily have avoided

That feeling somewhere that’s tight inside of you and reminds you of trauma but in a dream way, and you stare at the fire and don’t really see it but you can almost feel the heat and it does something to you

One step away from yourself, twelve from your surroundings

The control is delirious

The choice to have no choice

Hacking away at your alternatives one by one

Every so often you find a base for yourself to leap from

A movie a book a song or an idea

It fills up your mind like a drug, its compulsive nature should scare you but you take its hand and walk beside it as a friend

you see its beauty just like what you see in the rest of them. Nobody understands how beautiful it is to be controlled like that, how powerful and magical and special that is, even if it kills you or makes you wish you were dead.

How did we get here from there when there were so many ways to turn back along the road

Could you stop? If you truly desired to?

Are you actually fearless or do you just pretend because you know your choice is an illusion and you may as well have have wings while you fall

Or do you pretend to be trapped because you know just how much you’re choosing to risk

And just how much it will hurt if you loose what is left

[edgarwhitmanwilde]

Source: t.co

[quietstormxr]

Only Mine

*A collective sigh of relief* FINALLY!

Part 3 of 'You'll Survive'

A/N: FW/IF and very minor OS spoilers, angst, fluff, swearing, and Garrick :)

Summary: Reckless must be your middle name, or at least that's what Garrick thinks. Until he's on the other side, then you realize something you've been putting off for too long. Continuation through the battle of Pavis.

Word Count: 19k

You'll Survive - Found You Again

“Do you think that masquerading yourself will save you?” The sickeningly sweet voice calls through your mind.

Running as fast as your feet will carry you, you look left and right but can’t seem to find the source. Panic and confusion clawing at your insides. Panting with exertion, sweat falling down your temples, you suddenly find your feet swept from underneath you and your arms tied to your side. Thrashing trying to pry yourself loose, but there aren’t any bindings to pull apart. 

“Tsk, tsk.” The voice continues from behind you. “I figured it would’ve been harder to catch you. Seems you haven’t been utilizing your signet as well as you should.”

Finally, the owner of the voice comes into view, and you are met with crimson eyes and veins spidering out in every direction. Taking in the robes and the color of the venin’s skin, the prominent tattoo on their forehead a striking contrast, you know this isn’t just another student. 

“You can recognize power better than other riders. Such an interesting conundrum. You can pretend to be us, yet you do not corrupt yourself as we do. Pity. A power like yours would be more than welcome in our ranks.” 

“Fuck. Off.” You spit while still trying to thrash out of the magical hold. 

“Ah-ah. Watch that pretty mouth of yours. I’ll be seeing you sooner than you realize, and you should never talk back to those more powerful than you.” Her words are purred in a voice in direct opposition to the threat behind them.

The hold she has on you drops and you begin sprinting as fast as the burning in your legs will allow. It isn’t until you are met with the ledge of a cliff that you turn back to the threat behind you. Your eyes blow wide watching the venin channeling behind you and the way the desiccation of the land is spreading quickly towards your feet. 

Your head snapping between the options, of jumping off the cliff or being drained, has your head spinning trying to make the best decision. Refusing to give this thing more power, you turn to the cliff face and jump, a scream of absolute terror ripping from your throat and a seizing feeling of panic as you freefall.

Hard stone greets your face and your eyes fly open, heart fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, your breathing ragged and gasping. Long moments pass before your brain begins to catch up to reality. Hands braced on the cold stone floor of your bedroom and as you look around you realize you are alone.

A nightmare.

‘You are safe Bold One.’ Diomat’s voice is warm and a feeling of comfort washes through the bond. 

Sitting on the floor, your knees to your chest, the silence creeps in as you try to process everything that just happened. Confusion filters through as you wonder if this is just something your mind has conjured up or a magic that is gripped tight as a vice on your thoughts. 

Shaking your head trying to clear the fog of the dream, you decide that it must be because of the day you have ahead and try to let the fear go. Though no matter how you try to persuade yourself, the terror never fully abates, sinking its sharp talons into your mind. A bush of thorns curled around you with every prick a pull to your fear.

Realizing that the possibility of sleep for the rest of the night is gone, you dress for the day and head outside. Dawn is barely breaking, but you relish the sharp bite in the air and the way it cuts through your leathers. The sharp sting of the cold breaking through your clouded thoughts. Taking in deep breaths of fresh air, you focus on the feeling to try and calm your senses. Anything to wipe the terror of your nightmare from your mind. To sheer through the thorns of your thoughts and get back a semblance of peace.

Finally walking towards battle brief, there’s no controlling the shake of your hands or the rate at which your heartbeat begins to speed. The beat feeling as though it may pound through your chest.

Wiping your palms on your leathers only seems to make them slicker, the clammy sweat sticking to every surface. A faint sheen of sweat covers you and every nerve in your body is jumping with an energy that you are incapable of displacing.

“Are you ready for today?” Violet strides up to your side as you continue pacing outside the door, wringing your hands in worry.

“Uh – yes?” The higher pitch of your voice and the return of a question showcasing your obvious trepidation at what you’re about to do. There is no way to placate the anxiety that has claimed you or steady your erratic breathing. 

She gives you a look as if she understands and squeezes your shoulder. You may not be overly friendly with her, but it’s at least a little bit of comfort from someone that’s already seen your capabilities. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you’re covered.” A smooth male voice says from behind you, turning you find Bodhi striding towards the both of you.

Trying to give Bodhi a smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace, though he eyes you knowingly. Ever since you agreed you would do this, the moment in the Assembly room with the older Riorson cousin has been replaying repetitively in your mind.

“We can postpone until Garrick is back. You don’t have to feel pressured.” Bodhi tries to persuade, but you’re unsure if he’s doing it for you or himself. Knowing full well that Garrick is going to be angry when he finds out you did this without him, even though he was supposed to be back already from patrols.

“Postponing it isn’t going to make it any better.” You say trying to push a confidence you don’t feel, even though it’s the truth. “Even if Garrick was here, he can’t stop everything.”

“No.” Bodhi acknowledges with the signature Riorson smirk. “That’s my department.”

You roll your eyes at his confidence but give him back a thankful look when you realize he’s trying to calm you down. Uncertainty still courses through you as you’re hesitant how your fellow cadets are going to look at you once you do this. 

“Do you think anyone will think I’m just a venin in disguise after this?” The thought leaves your lips unbidden, and you bite your bottom lip trying to hold yourself together. 

Bodhi turns back towards you and his eyes soften with understanding. He puts his arm around your shoulders and begins to walk towards the battle brief room while squeezing you closer to him. 

“If anyone has any issues, we will take care of it. But, no, I don’t think so. At this point, I believe everyone is aware of your signet, so I wouldn’t worry too much.” He tries to assuage the doubt creeping in that everyone will now see you as the enemy. “Besides, I’m sure your scary guard dog can put anyone that may question you in their place.”

Turning your head to look at Bodhi with a raised eyebrow there’s no mistaking the mischief in his eyes. “Are you calling one of your best friends a guard dog?” You tease back and crack the first smile you’ve had all day. 

“Well, if the boot fits, he should probably wear it.” The smile you’re wearing deepens as amusement dances in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you move from Bodhi’s arm, giving him a thanks in response, a tight nod trying to loosen the anxiety. As you head into the room, there’s no mistaking the lurking you feel in your mind as Diomat comes to stand as a silent strength, an ever-watchful sentinel.

Taking inventory of the room that you’ve come accustomed to being a student in, you can’t help but notice the difference you feel looking back at your fellow riders. Staring at each of their faces, your mind can’t help but take in the looks they give you now versus what they will be looking like in just a few moments. The dread settling like stone in your stomach.

“Ah, there she is.” You hear a male voice call from the front and look to see Brennan waving you forward.

“Before we start our brief for today, I’ve requested that Cadet L/N come and give a demonstration. Now, before she does anything, I need all riders to remember that she is not an enemy and this is just a demonstration.” Murmurs begin to break out all over the room, but you do your best to zero in on the members of your squad that are giving you looks of encouragement. The warmth and steadiness coming from the bond with Diomat growing stronger. If your continued wringing of your hands and shifting of feet is any indication, the encouragement isn’t doing much to calm your nerves.

Brennan gives a look, and everyone begins to settle once again. “Now, to prove a point, Cadet L/N, can you give an example of your signet with someone in the front of this room?”

Turning around, you take stock of the others at the front of the room with you. Every single person gives you a nod in encouragement and an idea forms in your mind. As you turn back around, you let yourself feel Diomat’s power flood through your system. Your eyes are met with the approving looks of the cadre watching you as your features morph into your intended shapes and coloring. 

There’s no mistaking the ways the whispers behind you have again grown louder as you turn around to face everyone that is gathered into the space. Looking down, there isn’t much difference in what you wear, except for the rank you now don on your flight jacket and the purple hair that you can see in your peripheral vision. 

“Impossible.” Someone’s voice rings out over the crowd, causing you to smirk slightly. Without asking for permission, you drop the hold on your power and let yourself settle back into your own looks. 

Professor Devera steps up to your side and clasps you on the shoulder in acknowledgement before continuing. Pride shining in her eyes. “Alright, now that you’ve all seen what Cadet L/N’s signet entails, every single one of you will keep that in mind.”

“The sole purpose of this exercise is to give you an idea of the enemy you will be fighting. There are obviously good descriptions that have been given; however, that isn’t the same as encountering them during a fight.” Devera continues as her sharp gaze parses over the crowd of cadets and lieutenants. 

Observing the gathered crowd yourself, you look for a certain pair of hazel eyes but still come up empty. There is however a guard giving you a warm smile that you can’t help but return when you see Fabien has also joined everyone gathered.

A hushed voice next to you draws your attention and you turn to look at Brennan. “Whenever you’re ready. Hold this one a bit longer so everyone has the time to get over their initial surprise.” 

Swallowing thickly, you nod in confirmation and try to steady your heart and the frantic pace that you now find it beating. Taking a calming breath, you reach for your power again and let your mind wander back to the image of the venin from your nightmare. Every single detail burned into the back of your mind, along with the fear of the dream. Eyes staying directly in front of you, you watch as the faces around you begin to contort. Fear, hesitation, and confusion, all emotions seem to be floating across the faces of the people in front of you. 

It only takes seconds for the room to break out in chaos. Shouts of malice, gasps of horror, and the clink of metal being unsheathed all greeting your ears in a cacophony of sounds. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Bodhi coming up closer to you, but you don’t miss the trepidation on his features as well. Clearly the raucousness of the crowd has him on edge. It’s that one look that proves to be the mistake. 

“No!” The word barely registers before an agonizing pain erupts in your abdomen and your body begins to crumple. Trying to break the illusion proves futile when your mind is caught up in trying to register what just happened. 

Sounds then erupt around you, but things keep floating in and out of focus. Your hearing starting to feel underwater, you try to register the shouting around you though everything seems too muffled.

“MOVE!” A booming male voice is the only thing that seems to break through the haze.  

A rush of air ruffles your hair as a pair of arms scoops you from the stage and begins to move. A loud whimper leaves your lips as the person jostles the blade still protruding from your side. Your vision blurring with the sudden stab of pain.

Trying to get a hold of yourself, trying to settle into your mind and break the contact with Diomat’s power, but the pain keeps pulling away your concentration. A heavy coldness beginning to bloom around your body.

‘You need to control your mind, Bold One.’ Diomat’s voice comes as a command, and you focus as best you can on completing the task.

With a grunt of effort, you finally close off the power flowing through your body and sag into the pain of your wound. 

“At this point I’m convinced that you’re trying to send me to Malek early.” A furious voice floats to your ears as a sharp jolt of pain rolls through you.

Feeling yourself being let down onto a hard surface, you try to curl into the wound that’s pouring blood. 

“Get the fuck in here and fix her Brennan before I run out of patience with you and give you a matching wound.” The voice is low and dangerous, there’s no way to miss the fury behind the words. A lethal tone promising to fulfill the words if the command is not met.

“Look Tavis, we had things handled until you had to rush in and play hero. Don’t you know it’s better not to move stab wounds if possible.” Brennan’s tone is clear with aggravation, but you don’t focus on the conversation long.

The silence drags on as you hear footsteps coming closer, finally opening your eyes, you’re met with blazing gold orbs that are pulsing with anger and something more. His eyes are focused on you and something in your eyes must break the control that he’s trying to keep, because the next thing you know Garrick’s forehead is against yours and his hand is entwined with yours.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” He breathes, clearly fighting to keep himself together.

“You were supposed to be back before now. We couldn’t keep waiting.” Your words obviously do nothing to quell the storm, as he tightens his hold on your hand.

The next thing you know, you are letting out a sharp scream of pain as Brennan removes the dagger lodged in your abdomen. 

“Just keep breathing, Y/N. The mending will be over as soon as possible.” Brennan tries to say in a calming manner, but it does nothing to help the searing pain and the metallic smell of blood that has begun to pool on the table. 

A primal scream rips from your chest as the wound begins to knit itself back together, your hand tightening on Garrick’s. The pain consumes your every thought, though you can hear that he’s trying to whisper something to you. 

As the pain of mending finally begins to recede, you rasp. “I’m getting really tired of being your number one patient.” 

Brennan lets out a huff of a laugh, though he’s still concentrated on finalizing the mending.

“It’s not fucking funny.” Garrick is anything but amused at your quip and as you look up to him, there is no missing how ramrod straight his body is, showcasing his tension.

“I’m okay.” You say trying to quell the tempest burning in front of you.

“No, you’re not.” Garrick murmurs, his anger hasn’t left, but his words are soft. “Why do I always find you hurt and in need of mending?”

“I am a rider, you know? It’s not exactly an occupation known for its sense of safety.” You snark, while giving him a pointed look. 

Garrick returns the look obviously unimpressed with everything that has happened in the last few minutes. His gaze then drags itself to where the knife was imbedded in your side, and you feel as his hand slowly caresses the new scar that you know marks your body. 

Between the scars from the wyvern’s feathers, the ones from days of torture, and now all the times you’ve seemed to be the recipient of someone’s fear, the feeling of self-consciousness buries itself in you.  The ugly rot of inadequacy driving its knife further into the commanding bravado you try to portray. Trying to tug down your shirt and move away, you are met with a firm hand and Garrick still staring back at you. 

“What’s the matter?” Brows furrowing as he takes in the look on your face. 

“I-it’s nothing.” There’s no way he believes you with the way your voice wavers. 

“Obviously it’s something or you wouldn’t be trying to force your shirt down like there’s something else wrong.” Garrick responds while continuing to caress your skin. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you close your eyes and try to think of anything but the truth to say to him. Upon opening your eyes back up, you notice the way his worry has grown, and he looks at you with the need to understand.

“I just – I don’t want you to see the scars. There’s just so many of them and nothing about them is beautiful. It’s just a hideous reminder of my failings.” You drop your eyes as you sit up, a quick hiss leaving your lips from the residual pain. Beginning to sway, you can’t help but hope you can push forward until you get to the safety of your room.

Swinging your legs to hang over the table, you try to scoot to the end and make your way out of the room, a sense of defeat sinking into you. Before you can stand, Garrick’s frame is in between your legs keeping you in place. A calloused hand comes up to tilt your face and you’re met with a gaze that teems with understanding and something soft you refuse to name.

“You are absolutely insane if you don’t think you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Garrick whispers as his mouth comes to the shell of your ear. “If anything, each and every scar you bear is a testament of how strong you are.” 

Pulling back to stare into your eyes, he continues to murmur for only you to hear. 

“All of the beauty and strength you have is more than any one man could hope to have and yet here you are. Sitting in front of me radiating strength and determination with a face more radiant than Amari.”

As he finishes his words, you can’t help but search his eyes. Of all the things you’ve heard from men before, none of them ever lauded you for your strength. Especially Garrick, as he was always a gentleman, but ever the tease.

“I don’t remember ever hearing about my supposed strength from you before.” You remark, still caught off guard by his admission.

The sardonic huff he gives in response reinforces the fact that he’d never deigned to tell you about such things before.

“I was a fool. Hell, I’m still a fool for never telling you how strong you are. How capable.” He pauses as if to collect his thoughts. “I always knew I loved you, but believing you were gone changed everything. Then seeing you after being tortured and now learning everything you’ve gone through; I’d continue to be a fool if I didn’t acknowledge how much stronger you are than I am.”

Shrinking back, you want to deflect the compliment. There was nothing strong about what you’ve done in your eyes. To you, every single thing was just a method of survival until your ultimate demise. Sensing your inability to believe his words, Garrick doesn’t press, but you know there’s more he wants to say. 

“Come on. Let me get you to your room and cleaned up.” Immediately you begin to push up on your hands in order to step away from the table, yet one second later your feet are dangling in the air again. 

A contented sigh leaves you lips as you let your head rest on Garrick’s chest the steady thump of his heart beginning to lull you to sleep. “I can still walk, you know.”

“I’m aware, but you were just mended and I’m here so I’m taking you to your room. Besides, you just almost bled out in front of me for the second time, I’m in need of some physical reassurance whether you like it or not.” Looking up through your lashes, you watch as Garrick’s eyes trail over your face, sure footfalls taking you straight back to your room. 

The usual sense of safety provided by Garrick’s presence letting you fall into a deep sleep before you even make it to your bed.

_______

“You’ve really got that man wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” Violet’s voice filters through behind you as you turn to face her days later.

“Not nearly as much as you have Riorson wrapped around yours.” You quip back giving her a pointed look. She looks back at you and begins to flush sheepishly as you smirk. 

“Anyway…” She continues with a sliver of nervousness. “While those two are out on a patrol, I need to ask. Are you interested in doing something they would consider highly inadvisable?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you can’t help but be intrigued by her question. Of all people in this fortress, the last person you’d ever thought would ask for your help was Violet Sorrengail.

“Depends. Is it dangerous and will it piss them off?” You question a mischievous smirk painting your lips.

“Obviously. Would it be any fun if it didn’t?” Your eyes flash at her response before she continues. “Although this will require you to trust me and not tell anyone else.”

“Secrets, I can do. The trust, you’ll have to explain yourself a little more before I give that one up.” There’s no reason to mince words. You aren’t in the business of giving up your services easily, especially not if there is danger involved.

Violet goes on to explain her plan and you listen intently. There is no doubt in your mind that the minute Garrick hears anything about this he’s going to be furious, but as she finishes, you nod in agreement and both part ways going to pack for the next few days.

‘Are you always aiming to be in danger these days?’ Diomat’s amused voice floats to you.

‘Are you calling me reckless and saying you won’t take me?’ You retort, though a smile slides onto your face.

‘Of course I’m going to take you. And we both know you’ve always been reckless. Besides, when have I ever passed up the chance to create drama?’ You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter at your dragon’s response. 

Hours later, in the cover of night, you are perched atop Diomat’s back heading towards enemy territory, letting your mind wander. Night air calms your tumultuous thoughts, though they continuously float back to Garrick. Though you haven’t had an exorbitant amount of time with him since arriving in Aretia, it’s obvious the ways he’s constantly trying to be around you when not out on patrols.  

Every dinner he forcefully inserts himself in the space between your squad mates, whether or not he really fits in the small space. During sparring, he’s continually giving you critiques, even when he gets on your last nerve. His presence a constant even though he’s now a lieutenant. 

‘You’re contemplating on if he’s really regretful or not. Why?’ Diomat questions though there is no accusation in her tone, only curiousity.

‘I don’t know if I can trust that how he acts now is the truth.’ The answer is simple, but even you feel like there’s more behind it.

‘Truthfully? Or are you just afraid that he may hurt you again?’ Diomat cuts straight through your hesitance and pulls out what you’ve really been feeling. ‘Is it worth letting the hurt fester and not let him correct his mistakes?’

You huff at your suddenly philosophical dragon. ‘It’s not that easy to just let this go. He hurt me.’

‘Yes, he did, and I will bite off his hand if that would please you. But even I know that isn’t what you want.’ Diomat confirms blandly. 

‘I thought you were supposed to be on my side.’ You sass as you scrunch your nose in distaste.

‘I am always on your side, Bold One. But that also means I call you out when you’re in the way of your own happiness.’Diomat then goes quiet as you continue to mull over her words.

As you lay on your dragon’s back pondering over her words, the pull of sleep finally finds you as the sound of beating wings fill your ears, they rhythmic sound drowning out the tumult of your mind. For some reason, your dreams are filled with earnest hazel eyes and the warmth of broad arms wrapped around you. 

Hours later you are woken as the air begins to warm and the scent of salt wafts through the breeze.

‘Welcome to Cordyn, Bold One.’ Diomat confirms as you begin to question your coordinates. 

As your eyes adjust to the light, you squint into the distance at the shock of white that pours from the tall building in front of you. Not a building, but the most majestical palace that you’ve ever seen. Your eyes widen at the opulence that radiates from every pore. 

‘Seems they aren’t concerned about battle.’ You muse as you take in the gardens, pools, and extensively large columns. 

‘No, this is not a city concerned with the mundane colors of battle. Everything built here was strictly for appeasing the eyes.’ Diomat states, clear judgment in her tone.

‘We have an escort. Tairn has confirmed that Marbh will lead the riot, and his rider will handle the talking.’

You hum in an accepting response as gryphons begin to flank the riot that you are flying in the back of. It isn’t the first time in this trip that you feel slightly out of place between the Sorrengail siblings. 

As soon as Diomat touches down, you slide from her leg and give a thankful pat before she is airborne again. Walking up to the rest of the group, you scan the courtyard with sharp eyes before being stopped by a line of fliers. 

Commanding you to give a truth before gaining admittance and you quirk an eyebrow as you listen to the exchange, holding back a laugh at the older female Sorrengail’s response. As the flier’s gaze rests on you, you take a moment to consider before replying as well.

“I’m here at the behest of Cadet Sorrengail for my assistance.” A smirk painting your face as you stare back unflinchingly.

“Truth. Welcome to Cordyn.” The flier answers as he gestures towards the palace.

As the crowd parts, you let yourself take in the structure, eye immediately rising to the paned glass that spills out in all directions. For every ounce of fortress that is Riorson House, this is its absolute opposite in every way. It isn’t until you hear the siblings speaking in front of you that you bring your head down and your eyes meet none other than Xaden Riorson’s. 

You snicker as you come to stand next to Violet. “Good Luck Sorrengail.”

As you begin to walk forward, you feel a tug on your arm and turn to see an unamused face. “Oh no, you don’t. As it is I’m going to get my ass handed to me for you being here, so you may as well start sticking to Violet like glue from this point until we leave.”

“The wingleader voice isn’t going to work on me.” You sass back at Xaden, who is looking at you like you’re insane.

“I don’t care what works on you or not. You are going to follow my directions, because it’s now my job to keep my best friend’s girl safe and I’m not taking any chances.” He barks sternly; fury laden in every word. “With either of you.”

He finishes as he looks to both you and Violet. Violet has the good sense to give you a remorseful look before you find yourself being led by Xaden with Violet to his other side.

You tune out the conversation around you as your aggravation at the man next to you grows. It isn’t until he begins issuing the warning of your safety that you tune back in.

“Of all the reckless, idiotic things you could’ve brought her into, did you have to bring Y/N with you?” Xaden asks clearly annoyed with Violet. 

“Speaking of, aren’t you on the same squad as Garrick? Why exactly didn’t you just tell him to join you?” The questions slip past before you can think better of it.

Xaden turns to you giving you a pointed look. “Firstly, I was hoping Sgaeyl was wrong. Secondly, the last thing I need is Garrick making another scene if things go sideways with you.”

“Oh, because you are so well known for your own restraint when your precious Violence is in danger.” The quip lands as Xaden glares at you, clearly unamused.

Indignation fires through your veins as you begin to stomp away from the group. Though you are stopped in your tracks when a man dressed in a midnight blue tunic is standing in front of you like he’s a king surveying his subjects. 

“Ah, here are our guests.” He says, his tone silky and slightly disconcerting.

You let yourself melt into the back of the group, weighing your ability to make good choices once again. Eyes constantly scanning your surroundings as you walk, you can’t help but take in the beauty of the gardens, flowers and plant you’ve never seen before peppered in every corner of the manicured lawns. 

As soon as the obvious owner of the palace stops speaking, you begin to follow the group again. Your mind is stuck in a sense of wonder as you take in the white marble and richly appointed furnishings, opulence dripping from ceiling to floor. Before long, you feel Mira pulling you into a bedroom as Violet and Xaden continue to bicker behind you.

“Please tell me being with Tavis isn’t like that all the time.” Mira questions as she clearly is debating her sister’s relationship choices and you let yourself laugh at her clear disgust.

Giving her a thoughtful look, you let yourself reflect momentarily. “No, he’s just as protective, but less intense I suppose. Before war games, he never really challenged my abilities, but since leaving Basgiath, he’s been a little ridiculous in his protection goals.”

Turning back, she gives you a considering look. “Oh yes, you’re the one he thought was dead.”

At the comment, you can’t help but flinch a little even though she’s quick to correct herself. 

“I just meant I can understand getting more protective, considering he thought he lost you and then found you for you only to be unconscious and beaten.” Saying it so matter-of-factly makes it seem more like a slap to the face than you’d thought, but Mira turns before continuing. “If it were me, I’d probably do the same.”

The conversation is broken as Violet strides into the room and slams the door causing you both to turn. 

“Let’s get this fucking over with.” Violet says striding towards the dresses in the corner of the room. You turn to Mira and you both look at each other with raised eyebrows, obviously clocking the argument that just took place between the two lovebirds.

You pick a simple black satin gown, the material flowing like liquid down your form, but you don’t let yourself revel in the feeling. The only reason you’re here is to utilize your powers to help retrieve the luminary. Before the three of you step out of the door, both Mira and Violet stand in front of you, and you take in every single detail in their dresses. 

As you file out of the bedroom being led by a girl that you can’t remember the name of, you stay silent. Conversation drifts around you as you continually scan your surroundings and the people in it, taking in every detail you can. As you get closer, you pull on Diomat’s power and let it slowly trickle into your body and hope that the plan will work as seamlessly as Violet had proposed. 

Entering the formal patio, you watch as Xaden steps up to Violet and you stand slightly off to their side with Mira. When a wall of shadow is erected around the couple, you turn to Mira and snort at the appalled look on her face. Shadows finally falling back into place, Viscount Tecarus slides up to the couple and stands directly in front of them. Undoubtedly, they are the entertainment for the evening whether for good or evil on the part of the Poromish, you are unsure.  

As the viscount explains exactly what he is expecting of Violet, Xaden motions you to move forward as Tecarus continues to speak. Without looking at you, you hear his words float to your ears.

“I assume that there is some kind of plan you both had.” Xaden states as if he knows exactly why you’re here. 

“Of course, and now it should be even easier.” You whisper continuing to look forward. “When Violet heads down to the arena, cover her in shadow and she’s going to search the library. I’ll be headed down to the arena.”

“How are you going to replicate her signet.” He asks, clearly unsure of what is about to happen.

“That is where you get to watch and find out.” At that answer Xaden turns his head to you and you smirk back.

“I’ll be going with her.” You hear Mira confirm to Tecarus, before you walk up next to Violet’s side. 

“I’ll make sure she gets to the steps.” You say nonchalantly and begin pulling her arm along.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Violet whispers as you begin walking towards the pit. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” You comment before turning to look at the crowd behind you. From what you can tell, the only person looking at you is Xaden, so you take the time to change your appearance. Mira’s gaze jumps between you and Violet, giving a small shake to her head before grabbing your arm.

“Be quick Violet.” Mira says as you begin descending the steps with her. Violet disappearing into the crowd. “Tell me you have the same daggers as she had on her now.”

“Why? Are you afraid dear sister?” You chuckle, even though it’s all out of nerves. She gives you an unamused look as you both settle to the floor of the arena. 

As you scan the area, there is nothing but grassy earth all around the oval arena. The walls around stand as high as Diomat and are nothing but dull grey stone as if any variation in tone has been leached from the boulders. Continuing with your observations, grunts and heavy footfalls seem to be coming from a door that looks as if it was hewn from the wall itself. 

In the next few moments there’s a large chest being hauled by two guards and you can’t hide the confusion on your face. Your mind clicks as you realize this must be the target that Tecarus was referring to, though the intricate piece of furniture seems an odd thing to destroy. One guard comes forward some kind of mechanism twisting in his hands and when he raises it to a hole of the same shape in the doors of the chest, something clicks causing the doors to swing open. 

With a loud clang, a body falls to the ground, your eyes widen as realization comes slamming in. Your mind screaming danger and legs willing you to run as fast as you possibly can.

Venin.

‘DIOMAT!’ Screaming down your bond, you try to breathe and think through a semblance of a plan. Never once in the few times you discussed the plan with Violet did the possibility of a venin joining in cross either of your minds.

‘Focus, Bold One. You must focus. I’m on my way.’ Diomat tries to assure you as you watch the venin tear his body from the ground and lurch with unnatural speed to the nearest guard, unceremoniously draining the life from him in seconds.

“Shit!” You yell as you feel for the sheathes on your legs. Looking down, you’re thankful to find at least one alloyed dagger on Violet. Before you can even unsheathe it, you see a gleam of metal fly in your peripherals.

“Don’t!” You say as Mira throws one of her daggers towards the venin, a moment too late in your warning. He easily dodges it and picks it up turning the tip on both of you.

“My, My. My Sage will be more than happy for me to bring you back dear mirror.” The male rasps as his eyes focus on you. “You’ve just started to tap into your power. It will be astonishing to see where this power lies.”

“Over my dead body!” You retort as a noxious smile spreads on the venin’s face. Slowly, your feet begin to back away, your elbow prodding at Mira back towards the stairs.

“That can certainly be arranged.” He confirms as his hands fall to the arena floor. Your eyes fly wide, and you finally turn to Mira pushing her towards the stairs. 

“RUN! Get to the stairs now!” You yell as you try to run as fast as you can. Running as swiftly as your legs will carry you, you don’t let yourself look back. Legs begin to tangle in your skirts as you try to kick up your pace. Power beginning to crackle under your skin, the flood of Diomat’s influence coming as never before. 

Trying to calculate the best area to strike, you pull the alloyed dagger you have. Estimating the force and distance in your mind, you pinch the tip of the dagger and throw at the same time two additional ones hit the field of the arena. Turning you see that your aim was slightly off, and you caught the venin in the arm, not enough to kill him, but the alloy is obviously affecting his ability to channel from the ground.

Relief is minimal as the realization of the amount he was able to drain in such a small period of time. 

As you look up, you see Violet running around the side of the arena, clearly trying to find a place to wield without being caught. You continue pushing Mira, the steps finally coming into clear view. 

‘Tairn is following the Silver One’s plan. Be ready to be grabbed.’ Diomat’s words hit you at the same time as a large talon wraps around your waist and lifts. 

Not even a second later, the entire field lights up with bolts of lightning so bright the small hairs of your arms feel singed, and you must squeeze your eyes shut against the brightness. As you are flown away from the arena, you let your disguise drop and look up to realize that the talons you are in are not Diomat’s, but Tairn’s. 

Minutes later you are being lowered to the marble patio and let yourself crumple to the floor. Footsteps rushing towards you, looking up you are met with two sets of similar worried eyes.

“Are you alright?” Violet asks as she tries to help you stand from the floor. You look back to her and shake your head in confirmation, too shocked to form words. 

Brennan quickly follows as he steps up next to his sister. “She may be alright, but we have other problems.”

As he finishes speaking, you let Violet grab your arm and tug you to your feet. Stepping back towards the balcony, every one of you stops as you are brought face to face with another issue. Shadows pour from different areas of the palace and writhe only to converge in one place. As you examine their target, your eyes fly wide to find Viscount Tecarus hoisted by the shadows with a furious Xaden standing in front of him.

Violet immediately breaks from the group rushing to Xaden’s side. She doesn’t say anything to him out loud, but he turns in her direction as she touches his arm. Two seconds later, he turns to you, looking you up and down as if checking every inch of you for injuries. 

“I’m not sure which one of you is worse.” Mira says shaking her head looking between you and Violet. “I’m almost certain the two of you are trying to give Riorson and Tavis an aneurism.” 

You give her a deadpanned look before speaking. “This was all your sister’s idea, thank you very much. I’m not usually in the market to sign my own death warrant, contrary to all the recent events. And I certainly didn’t sign up for another round of hovering from Garrick.”

Mira huffs a laugh at your response before you both turn back to the situation unfolding in front of you. As Brennan and Violet finally calm Xaden and the decision is made to retire and change, you go to turn but are instantaneously stopped by a band of shadow.

“You aren’t going to keep this from Garrick.” Xaden sternly states as he walks up next to your side. You open your mouth to protest, but Xaden cuts you off. “You’re going to tell him all about your escapades and this is the last time the two of you make any more ridiculous plans.”

“This is the first time this has even been a decision I’ve made, dear Lieutenant Riorson.” Your fury at constantly being the reception of ire between him and Garrick snapping the thread on your nerves tight. “The last few times were at the directives of yourself, the Lieutenant Colonel, and an action that I wasn’t even a part of, so don’t lecture me on my decisions.”

The look on his face brooks no room for argument, though the last place you are going to get into a fight with him is in front of a room of gryphon fliers. With your foot put down, you turn and immediately head back to the room that you got dressed in, not interested in speaking to any of your companions at this point.

Choosing not to participate in the negotiations and having to deal with the shadow wielding asshole and his reckless partner any longer, you let yourself relax on the bed until all your companions have left the room. As soon as the voices begin to disappear in the hallway, you spring up and pull on Diomat’s power again.

Taking a moment to remember the details of one of the fliers that was close to Tecarus, you let the form settle over you before you step out of the room. Now disguised in a flowing red gown and long dark locks, you let yourself float through the hallways, pulling on memory to return to one of the gardens outside the fortress. As you descend the stairs, you let yourself breathe in the night air, aromas of roses and jasmine penetrating the saltiness of the sea air. 

Meandering slowly and absorbing the air, your fingers begin tracing the buds of the flowers that seem to spring out of every single space in the perfectly manicured garden. Trellises entangled with vines of night jasmine have every single one of your senses calming. It isn’t until you hear the crunch of gravel that you realize how much you’ve let your mind wander. 

Spinning around, you are met with a face you’ve never seen before, and your senses rise as you realize you are masquerading as a woman whose name you don’t even know. 

“I’m surprised to find you out here while Riorson is still inside.” You can’t help the uptick of your eyebrow at the statement. Whoever you are mimicking has apparently been entangled with the man you were trying to get away from. 

You shrug your shoulders and move to walk away. The minute any words leave your mouth there will be no way to mask the fact that you aren’t really the girl this man thinks you are. 

“Come on, Cat. Can’t you just give me a chance.” You glance back at the man still calling out, but let your strides lengthen before hiding behind a manicured hedge of a gryphon. Warily, you let Diomat’s power drop and let your form settle back on your own, relishing in the comfort of your flight leathers and move to the next garden. 

“I think your specialty must be doing things you aren’t supposed to.” Brennan’s voice floats to your ears as you study the wings of a butterfly that landed directly in your path.

“No one said I couldn’t walk the gardens.” You snap back, though there is no heat behind your words. “People just seem to enjoy dragging me into deathly predicaments and I have to get myself out somehow. I’m not usually the one getting myself into them.”

“No, but you should know better than to just go wandering in enemy territory.” You instinctively bristle at Brennan’s chiding tone.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I needed a semblance of peace after that lovely performance that I was forced to participate in. Not to mention Riorson getting on my last nerve.” You snark though you don’t miss Brennan’s slight chuckle at your jab at Xaden. 

“Either way, I need to escort you back. We are leaving in just a little bit.” Brennan explains while motioning you to lead the way.

“I assume that you accomplished what you came here to do?” You question as you fall into stride with him. 

“Yes, thanks to both you and Violet, the luminary will be coming back with us – along with a hundred flier cadets.” Brennan confirms. As the words hit your ears, your steps falter as you look sideways at the older man.

“Did you just say flier cadets?” You ask in amazement, though its more from the audacity of the thought.

“Yes. That is part of the negotiations.” The tone he uses confirms that everything is finalized, but you’re anything but convinced. 

“You seriously think that an entire fortress of riders is going to welcome fliers with open arms? Were you dropped on your head as a child? Or was it the nearly dying that did your head in?” There is absolutely no way that Brennan thinks this could possibly be a good idea. You shake your head at the cheek of this ask.

“Both riders and fliers will just have to get over it. If we don’t work together, there is no way we are winning against the venin.” His tone is flat, one of command that seems to think there is no way this won’t work.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but I also think this is going to be more of an issue than you realize.” Without waiting for a response, you let yourself back into the room and grab your pack before walking back to Brennan.

No one speaks as you all begin your walk out of the palace and back to your dragons. The tension between the siblings and Riorson heavy enough to cut with a knife, so you let yourself relax on Diomat’s back and try to let your mind settle for whatever you are going to have to face when you arrive back in Aretia.

Hours later, you’re blearily blinking your eyes trying to hold off on sleeping until you can collapse into the warmth and security of your own bed. Before Diomat can even touch down, you are rising from your seat and grasping at the familiar scales, dismounting from her foreleg. Between the length of your flight and weariness, you don’t want to wait any longer than you must for the others.

It seems everyone is eager to be back at the fortress though, because not even a minute later, you hear the strides of your companions right behind you.

“Riorson!” A booming voice calls as you are walking back towards the fortress, a shiver of realization of who the voice belongs to hits you right before the strike. 

Of all the things you expected coming back to Aretia from Cordyn, the last thing you figured would be Garrick’s fist colliding directly with Xaden’s face. You finally get a good look at Garrick’s face and murderous intent is plastered plainly there, in the direction of his best friend. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Garrick continues to challenge Xaden as the two have now turned to face each other. You can tell Xaden is trying not to react, but that doesn’t stop the irritation on his face and the way his fists clench.

“Garrick, it wasn’t Xaden. He only came after Sgaeyl alerted him.” Violet tries to placate the situation, but it’s obvious that Garrick is more than keyed up after the incidents you’ve had with Xaden recently.

“You don’t see me putting the woman you love in constant fucking danger, do you?” You watch as the vein in his jaw feathers, displaying how hard he is clenching his teeth to keep himself in check. 

Not waiting on what’s going to happen, you walk up to the rage-filled man and pull him down by the collar of his flight leathers. The sudden movement jerks his face to yours, but since he wasn’t expecting it, his fingers dig into your arms in defense as you bite back a whimper of pain. 

Realization hitting his golden eyes, Garrick immediately drops his hands and the malice that was shining there a moment before turns to sorrow. His eyes begin darting around your face looking for injuries and a moment later you are plastered against his chest.

“Why is it always you?” Garrick breathes into your hair.

“I think you’ve asked me that already.” You snicker back even though you’re more than aware the man whose chest your head rests on is not amused.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself being pulled by your arm away from the group and towards the small garden in the front of Riorson House. Garrick doesn’t speak, his body tight with tension, as he leads you to the bench and forcefully plops you down onto it. 

Your lips thin as you look up at him in clear aggravation, eyes tracking him as he takes large strides, pacing back and forth in front of you. Though the look morphs when suddenly he is letting out a laugh as he stops facing the cliffs in the distance, your brows drawing in at his reactions.

On a dime, he swivels, his face directly in front of your own as he crashes down to his knees. Taken aback, you startle as his eyes bore directly back into yours. 

“Are you insistent on sending me to meet Malek early? This is the second time I’ve come back to Aretia from a patrol and found you in some ludicrous situation.” His tone shifts as he continues, rising and going back to packing in front of you. 

“In all of our time at Basgiath, you were never this difficult.” As the words escape his mouth, you vision turns to red. Your eyes flash, gaze cutting directly up to the hazel ones that can’t seem to stay in one spot. 

“I didn’t ask for this!” You rise, along with the tone of your voice, indignation coating every word. “If I remember correctly, it was because of you! Your involvement in this rebellion, your involvement in stealing weapons that ended me up on the cadre’s bad side.”

This time it is Garrick’s turn to have his features turn, clearly displaying he didn’t dissect his words before letting them spill from his mouth. The regretful look he’s giving doing nothing to calm the ire that’s built after all these months. 

“Then, I get tortured as fucking bait, because of YOU!” The hold you’ve had on your temper has long since left and you let your words fly, not caring if they cut or how deeply. “I end up being almost choked to death, because the Aretian leadership wanted to see my signet, by your fucking best friend no less. Showed my signet because I was asked, and then I get sliced in the side because the riders in this semblance of a college are just scared children.”

“And finally, the girl that you all seem to trip over your two feet for, drags me into her plans and I almost get fucking drained by a venin. All because a sadistic Viscount wants revenge on your same best friend who almost killed me.” Anger coursing through your veins like a wildfire, you finally shut your mouth and look back at the insufferable man in front of you.

Garrick looks back at you, his muscles coiled so tight it looks like he’s vibrating. His eyes blaze with fury with your last statement, the normal soft color gone to give way to one that is hard and unyielding. You stand there, silent, breath coming in short pants, your body coiled and ready to fly at a moment's notice. Your voice becomes nearly silent as you continue.

“You’ve had every opportunity to confide in me. To include me in your plans, your life, the inner workings of this rebellion, but have you?” You let yourself quiet as you stare back into Garrick’s eyes. There’s no mistaking the plethora of emotions that he seems to be having trouble parsing through. 

“I know.” The admission is soft, a quiet breeze that barely floats to your ears. “I know that I’ve failed you. I know that I haven’t given you the knowledge you crave, the knowledge you deserve and for that I’m sorry.”

Garrick reaches out his hand and tugs on yours, fingers wrapping tightly around before clamping down tightly. A touch that grounds both of you, keeping you in the present. For a long moment, he stands there, a constant gaze staring right back into your eyes. There’s no waver, no hesitation in his eyes, but as you try to withdraw your hand, he holds on tightly, not willing to let go. 

“I never thought Zinhal or Loial would bless me with someone, especially not a woman like you.” As Garrick continues, you let yourself take a deep breath, willing the anger back to a manageable level. “At seventeen, I watched as my father was burned for his role as Fen Riorson’s right hand. Experiencing that was devastating enough to a teenage boy who saw his father as his own personal hero.”

Stopping his story, you hear the shaky breath that Garrick takes before bringing his gaze back to yours. “But what truly broke me, was when my mother be executed at our home not even a day later.”

The silence that followed his statement was deafening, not even the breeze dared to break it. You could only stare back at the man who you had always seen as unbreakable, a pinnacle of strength. 

“They had captured all the leaders, but for those not participating in an active role, they toyed with them, with us. Letting us all believe that we wouldn’t lose those people as well.” Garrick turns; his gaze set firmly on the mountain range in the distance. “Until noon the next day when an entire squad of infantry broke through the door of our home and dragged my mother to the courtyard. I was in the back of the house, trying to pull together firewood when I heard the screaming. I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye, didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her.”

“Once I got to the front of the house, I was left with an image that will haunt me forever. My mother’s body laying in the courtyard, blood pooling around her, lifeless and still.” Searching Garrick’s face, you had never seen him look so tormented, as if the darkness was beginning to swallow him whole. “I can still feel her blood seep through the knees of my pants when I knelt next to her and cried, screaming for her not to leave me behind. I don’t know how long I stayed that way. By the time I came back to myself, the sun had set in the sky, and I was alone, cradling my mother’s dead body with no answers. No one to come and tell me things would get better, only the bitter realization that I was truly alone.”

You don’t know when it happened, but suddenly you realize there are two streaks of warm tears freely falling down your face. Grabbing onto Garrick’s hand, you try to coax him out of the trance that he’s fallen into, gently pulling him towards the bench that rests ten steps away. He follows blindly, eyes never leaving the hollow stare into the distance. 

Reaching the bench, you stand on top of it, dropping Garrick’s hand and moving your own to his face, slowly turning his towards you. With both hands gripping his face tightly, you look back at the man in front of you as agony so sharp winds around your heart and squeezes. His eyes are still vacant, the buried emotions trapped deeply inside, the only guaranteed protection in life and a childhood no one should have to experience.

Slowly he blinks and the expressive eyes that you’ve grown so fond of look back at you again, his head leaning into your touch. His hands come to your hips as he slowly steps closer, winding around you and pulling your body flush to his chest. 

“When I saw you at parapet, it was like a switch was flipped, the darkness that had reigned in my mind gave way to light. It made no sense. I didn’t know you; you were just another one of the hundreds of cadets I saw walk through the rider’s quadrant. But as the days and months wore on, my entire orbit seemed to revolve around you.”

As he continued, you let your thumbs stroke his cheeks, your fingers bringing him back from the darkness of his own memories. “Then when the alarms sounded for war games and our directive was to Athebyne, I couldn’t do it. Xaden offered me the option to take you, but I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t. The minute I thought about it, instead of my mother’s blood being spilt on the ground, it was yours… and i – it terrified me.”

Time seemed to stop having any semblance of meaning. You both stared back at each other, your vision unwavering. Without pretense, you let your head drop, your forehead leaning on Garrick’s, though your thumbs didn’t stop their incessant stroking. You heard and felt the shuddering breath that left Garrick’s lungs, a force of emotions that had been trapped inside of him far too long. Moments after, the hot stain of tears started to flow between your fingers. 

“So, I took the coward’s way out, I told you a flippant lie that I figured I could apologize for after war games were over.” A sardonic huff left his mouth as his eyes closed, halting the stream of tears. “Flying back, I was so happy. I thought I made the right decision, until we landed, and it was as if a knife lodged in my throat, and nothing would pull it out.”

“All I could see was the picture of you as my mother. Bleeding to death on the field where I’d never be able to reach you. Where I would never make it to save you.” He closes his eyes once more, as if the weight of the words were too heavy.

“Do you know I went to Eltuval before reporting to Samara?” He questioned as you shook your head, still attached to him. “I made Chradh stay there for an entire day while I searched for you. I scoured every single ounce of perimeter and of course found nothing.”

“I will never be able to apologize enough for all the ways that I’ve hurt you, my family has hurt you, or the way you’ve had to be wrapped up in things you didn’t get to make the decision for. But I never once, want you to ever believe that I wouldn’t set every single thing to flame just to make sure that you are safe. That you are still breathing and happy.”

“My reasoning may not make up for everything you’ve gone through, but I need you to know that every single decision I’ve made regarding you is because I love you. I love you so fucking much that every time I think I’ve lost you, I think a little bit of my soul dies along with yours.” Your breath catches, every piece of you unsure of how to process all these new revelations. 

“I never meant to control your agency.” Garrick tries to pull himself away, but your hold on his face is unwavering. 

“Yes, you did.” You state back, matter-of-factly. “But now I know why you did. I just wish you would’ve trusted me with this information sooner, even if for no other reason than understanding.”

You finally pull yourself back and step off the bench, slowly depositing yourself onto it. You tap the bench next to you in direction for Garrick to sit. He wastes no time and sits down next to you, but before you can speak again, he pulls you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms slide around your waist and takes a shuddering breath before burying his face in your hair.

You let your head fall to his and his hold tightens pulling you impossibly closer. Settling into Garrick’s grasp, you let yourself melt into the arms of the man holding you, all while letting your mind race on how to move forward. Everyone knew of the horrific deaths of those involved in the Apostasy, but hearing about how Garrick lost his mother, your heart hurts for the man that has you plastered to him. 

Is there any lifetime in which he will be able to let go of the nightmare he’s lived? The nightmare that they all had to live with.

You let yourself turn in his grasp and let your arms drape over his shoulders in a crushing hug, your face moving to the crook of his neck. If nothing else ever blossoms between you both, that doesn’t mean you will let Garrick face his feelings alone. In the quiet of the garden around you, the promise to be his shelter from the storm of emotions and life solidifies in your mind. Never again will you let this man be left abandoned.

________

The next days bring their own challenges besides just your relationship with Garrick. You finally seem to find your place in Aretia. The members of your squad that defected from Navarre and Fabien keeping your mind occupied when the darkness threatens to pull you under. Between your own torture and then learning of Garrick’s experiences, your brain had been conjuring ideas that had kept you more than awake the last few days.

The weight of exhaustion pulls heavy on your limbs as you stand at the bottom of the Medaro Pass with the rest of the cadets. As much as you wanted to rail at the situation, the exhaustion pulling on you kept you silent.

‘This entire situation is ridiculous. You have no reason to be on that pass with the rest of the cadets that haven’t proven themselves like you have.’ There was no way to shield from the displeasure that Diomat voiced. In fact, she had been mumbling her discontent with the situation for the last few days.

‘Every single cadet is here. For some reason the great Aisereigh seems to think this will be a bonding exercise.’ You wanted to roll your eyes, but even your eyelids were tired.

Trudging forward, you did everything you could to keep your eyes forward and focused on the path laid out in front of you. Lightly stepping to the edge of the trail, you took a chance looking over the side and your eyes went wide at the sharp drop that you’d experience if you took one step to the right. Shaking your head and the thought of falling from the cliffs, you looked back forward trying to focus on the obstacle in front of you. 

At least you tried until a sharp screech rent the air. Blood running cold, there was no way to mistake the creature that was about to be flying above. The sound of the piercing screech branded into your memories.

‘Looks like there’s a guest we need to entertain.’ You purr to Diomat, your energy perking up, along with adrenaline.

‘I believe Tairn’s rider thinks she will handle the situation.’ Diomat relays, but you can tell by her tone that she won’t let your talent be assuaged.

Glancing further down the trail, your eyes fly wide as you see the ruckus that has broken out. You don’t miss the bloodied snow and the tears streaming from a few faces. 

‘Well, she may want to, but she looks a little busy currently. Let’s show her how it’s done without the light show.’ Diomat hums in agreement and out of the corner of your eye you see her unmistakable form coming towards you. 

Swinging your gaze left and right, you move as far back on the trail as you can and then sprint, jumping off the side of the pass. Letting the cacophony of screams and shouts drown out from your ears, you narrow your gaze and focus on the large wyvern circling the precarious position of your fellow riders.

‘Ready?’ You question Diomat as you begin to pull on the well of your power. 

‘Always.’ Diomat confirms as she begins to climb in altitude bringing you closer to the wyvern, wings tucked tight in a burst of power. 

Opening her maw, Diomat lets a warning stream of fire flame into the path of wyvern’s next sweep. Suddenly distracted by the movement, the grey beast changes course and begins its swift course of interception, straight at Diomat’s neck. Wasting no time, you let your appearance change swiftly disguising yourself, again masquerading as the venin you want the beast to believe you are.

‘On the next dip Bold One.’ Diomat orders and you rise to your feet and edge towards her foreleg.

In the next moment you are airborne, alloyed dagger gripped firmly in your hand, biting wind whipping your changed form with a ferocious bite. This time you don’t let your eyes close as you drop onto the unnaturally smooth back of the grey beast, a familiarity that causes you to shiver in rememberance. The wyvern must register your landing as it begins to thrash, sensing its intentions, you don’t let it buck you before slamming the dagger into its already scarred side. Learning from your previous mistake, you immediately begin to slide down the side of the wyvern’s body without hesitation. The rush of winter clouds begins to fly past you, the cold moisture settling into your bones as you are freefalling back towards the cliffside. 

Before you can even register the rocky terrain clearly, familiar scales are beneath your feet and you crouch to absorb the impact of landing in the middle of Diomat’s back. As soon as you are stable, you let yourself move to her seat and set yourself down firmly. Closing your eyes for a moment, you force out a heavy breath, rife with the sweetness of victory and bitter taste of memory. As the adrenaline begins to crash, you feel all your limbs turn limp, the rush of the attack still fresh in your mind.

‘You did well, Bold One. And without the dramatics of the lightning wielder.’ You don’t try to stop the laugh that bubbles out of you at Diomat’s slight of Violet. 

‘There’s not always a need for a flare of dramatics, but I’m unsure if Riorson and Sorrengail know that.’ You quip back between laughter, a knowing look lighting your eyes at their shared flare for drama.

Turning, you lock eyes with Brennan Sorrengail, and he gives you a nod in thanks for the assistance.

‘Marbh’s rider has confirmed he wants us to continue monitoring the skies. I hope you’re interested in some solo flight time.’ Diomat smirks with a sense of satisfaction pouring from her side of the bond. 

‘I’d love nothing more.’ You reply, though there is no way to keep the smirk off your face. 

The remainder of the trek is uneventful, in the air at least, but you take the time to enjoy the feeling of freedom and solitude. The days and nights of constant noise and other people having drained you in ways you never realized. As night begins to fall and the final cadets make their way inside of Riorson House, you breathe a sigh of relief, a thankful sense of safety settling in your bones as everyone is decisively past this hurdle. You know that things will only get more difficult with the fliers, but for the time you relish in the steady presence of your dragon and the fact that you will get the chance to fight another day.

____________

Settling into the rhythm of classes again proves to be harder than you thought. Every class you stepped into was a bubbling cauldron of tension, always one slip from boiling over. Riders and fliers constantly at each other’s throats proved less than ideal for a learning environment of any kind. The only thing you were thankful for is that you didn’t have to be involved in the mess that was Sorrengail’s squad as they seemed to bear the brunt of the fliers’ disdain.

At least that is what you thought until the professors decided that just having the fliers sitting in the same room wasn’t enough. A sour look crawled onto your face as you learned of the fliers that would soon be joining the ranks of your squad. It wasn’t that you had anything against these specific people, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy transition. 

Especially since they would be out for blood considering the news of the challenges that would take place the day before all the squads were merged. 

Waking up that day you didn’t think anything of the coming challenges. Hand to hand had ceased to be a major point of concern since you had started training with Garrick and then continued to challenge yourself with multiple opponents after he graduated. 

Entering the sparring gym, there was no way to miss the buzz in the air, a scent somewhere between fear and bloodlust permeating from every single person. Taking stock of everyone gathered there was no way to miss the nervous energy in the small space, people shifting back and forth, the sound of steel being sheathed and unsheathed in nervous habit, sweat soaked brows permanently etched with concentration and revulsion. 

“Y/N L/N versus Vanessa Nash.” Devera shouted from the front of the room. 

You turned and looked towards the mat and quirked an eyebrow as a female flier cadet stared at you. Confusion pulled on you again as you watched the girl that was obsessed with Riorson whisper something in her ear. Looking back at your squad, all you received were the same looks of confusion. 

“Go give her a run for her money. Show her who’s the real boss in this fortress.” You turned back to your best friend and gave him a huff of a laugh, the smirk pulling at your lips showing your confidence in his words. 

As you stepped up to the mat, there was no way to miss the way your opponent’s eyes flared with anger as if she was privy to some type of information you didn’t know. 

“That’s the best you’ve got? I would’ve thought Garrick would’ve gone for someone accomplished at hand to hand.” Your eyes flew wide as you continued to settle into your fighting stance, though you couldn’t help but fight the confusion. How did this girl know Garrick? His name drifting from her lips with a sense of intimacy that made you uncomfortable.

Before you even had a chance to register and dissect her words, she was lunging. It didn’t catch you off guard though, you knew better than to let words distract you in a fight. 

“I’m not sure Garrick’s preference in hand-to-hand skills has anything to do with who he decides to spend his time with.” You retort, though your mind can’t help but feel sluggish suddenly, a haze seeming to fall over your thoughts. Slipping past her lunge, you backed up a few steps letting her dictate the pace. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll remember soon enough who he’d rather spend his down time with.” The flier continues to taunt, but you can’t help but scoff at her though feelings at the edge of you mind seem tamped down, as if everything isn’t as sharp as usual.

‘Reinforce your shields. Now.’ Diomat’s commanding voice cuts through your hazy thoughts and you shake your head trying to clear the fog.

Before you can rebalance yourself, your head swings to the side, pain blooming along your jaw as your opponent takes advantage of your distraction. Taking a few steps back, you take a breath and reinforce your shields, settling back into a fighting stance. 

“I’m not sure where your obsession comes from, but if you want to monopolize his time, be my guest. I’m not going to fight you over a man. We aren’t together and if that’s what he chooses, then fine.” As if your words were a taunt, Vanessa lets out a frustrated scream before she’s lunging for you again. 

Bringing your right arm up to block, you take the hit on your forearm, but don’t waste the opportunity and sweep her legs out from under her. As soon as she hits the mat, you drive your knee into her back and trap her arms, letting her squirm as you tighten your hold and bring your mouth close to her ear.

“Do not mistake me for someone easily cowed by others, if you are jealous, then take that up with Garrick. But know this, he is not something to be owned, he makes his own decisions, if you disrespect his choices, I will show you how good at hand-to-hand I can be.”  You challenge before bringing your face back up to look at the others gathered around you.

As soon as you hear Devera call the match in your favor, you release your opponent and step back, never giving her your back. Though apparently the control she exhibits is non-existent as she gets up and immediately charges towards you. Without missing a beat, you pull the dagger you had kept on you and bring it directly up to her neck. 

“I’ll give you one more chance to back the fuck off before I let your blood spill.” You purr, the threat heavy in your voice. “I’m not scared of you or any of your companions, but I can promise that if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to use every tool I have to make you miserable.”

Vanessa looks back at you, eyes flashing with fear and anger, clearly expecting you to be some meek opponent and surprised to be wrong. She lets out a frustrated huff before one of her squad mates tugs on her arm, pulling her in the direction of the other fliers.

Suddenly you notice the quiet that has seemed to take over the entirety of the mat around you. Turning to your squad, you can’t help but quirk an eyebrow in question.

“Gods, its good to have you back. We missed your brand of fire a little too much.” You can’t help the smile that cracks your features, though you wince as the bruise on your jaw pulls. 

As your squad leaves the rest of the challenges behind, you are caught in the sea of bodies trying to move between rooms in the fortress. A hand begins to tug you towards a door and thinking it’s a member of your squad; you follow the tug but are surprised when a familiar hulking frame finally comes into view.

“Did you need something Lieutenant Tavis?” Garrick turns and the warmth in his eyes is a welcome reprieve to the hostility that has seemed to be in them previously. 

“What happened?” He asks as he finally seems to clock the new bruise that you are sporting. 

“Hmm, maybe you can enlighten me.” You let your tone change to a challenge, interested to see exactly how Garrick will react to your next words. “Fliers and Riders were able to challenge each other today and I was challenged by a flier. You wouldn’t have anything going on with someone named Vanessa, now, would you?”

Garrick’s face pales instantly, all the blood draining from his coloring, and his lips pursing as if tasting something sour. 

Clocking the reaction, your eyes flash. “So, are you going to explain yourself or just going to sit there looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Four fucking hells.” He says while running a hand through his curls, beginning to pace in front of you. He turns his face to you, and you cock your head to the side, giving him the invitation to explain.

A gruff, frustrated growl leaves his lips before he begins. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, there’s a history between Catriona Cordella and Xaden.” You nod in acknowledgement; you never wanted the details, as the last thing you wanted to bother with was the spectacle that was Sorrengail and Riorson’s tumultuous relationship.

“When Xaden’s father arranged the betrothal with Catriona, I was brought with him to Cordyn. Fen thought it would be best that Xaden had someone of his own with him when all the arrangements were being decided.” Garrick continues as he begins pacing again, not really looking anywhere particular, as if unsure whether to meet your eyes. “We were teenage boys and there were pretty girls. Catriona was a piece of work, as I’m sure you’ve realized, but the others around her worked hard to show us the palace and welcome us as best as possible.”

“We started visiting more often, Tecarus and Fen hoping that Xaden and Catriona would naturally develop a relationship or at least foster respect from repetitive meetings.” A sardonic huff leaves his lips as he shakes his head as if reflecting on the memories. “They eventually figured out a way to be around each other, without being at each other’s throats but that left me roaming around the palace looking for something to do.”

“Or someone.” You couldn’t help but interject. Clearly you hit the true root of the problem as Garrick came to a complete stop in his pacing while having his back to you. There was no mistaking how tense he was, every muscle in his back was coiled tight as if expecting an attack at any moment. Turning slowly, you watched as a muscle in his jaw feathered as he clenched it hard enough to break. Hazel eyes met yours and you didn’t miss the way they were measuring, trying to predict what you were going to do next. 

Garrick’s eyebrows shot up as you just gave him a motion with your hand to continue. His eyes darted back and forth as if uncertain on what he was seeing. Raising your eyebrows and giving him a look, he shook his head as if forcing himself from a daze. 

“As you say, or someone. So, I got involved with Vanessa.” A heavy sigh leaves him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed with himself and the situation. 

“I – I never exactly broke it off with her.” He adds hesitantly. “Xaden visited Catriona himself once bonded, and I would accompany him, but I never let myself be alone with Vanessa again. I thought she would’ve gotten the hint, but evidently, I was mistaken.”

Garrick brings his hand to your face and strokes the blossoming bruise on your jaw. “If what I just had to deal with is anything to go by, I’m thinking she’s still waiting for her chance.”

There’s no missing the way Garrick’s eyes darkening, the grip on your face tightening slightly. “She surely didn’t hold back from utilizing her mind work during our mat-.”

Before you can finish your statement, Garrick is furiously striding out the door. Your eyes fly wide, and you rush to follow him. “Garrick. Stop.”

“No. I’m going to put that little girl in her fucking place. If she dares user her mind work against you again, I will bury her.” The menace in Garrick’s voice is something you’ve never heard before and makes your hackles rise in both fear and aggravation.

Picking up your pace, you run to finally catch up to your nuisance of a bodyguard. You finally cut off his strides and he doesn’t stop in time, bringing both of you tumbling to the floor. The air rushes from your lungs as Garrick’s full weight falls on you, along with his twin swords. 

“Don’t you think you two could keep it in the bedroom, please.” A smug voice says from the doorway you had just passed. 

Your nose crinkles at the words as Garrick quickly gets to his feet and is reaching to help you up. As you sit up, you sputter a few coughs trying to regain your breath. 

“Fuck off, Riorson. Don’t act like the entirety of Aretia doesn’t know when you and Violet are occupied.” Garrick snips at the voice, though he never looks back, his eyes still fussing over you.  

“True. But we aren’t exhibitionists.” Xaden continues with laughter in his tone, but Garrick scoffs as if he’s privy to some information that you’re more than okay with being excluded from. 

Finally catching your breath and tired of their bickering, you pull the arm of Garrick’s flight jacket and lead him to the large doors that are looming before you. As soon as you are through, you turn to him with an exasperated sigh.

“You can’t fight my battles for me.” You quip as your hands fall to your hips. “I don’t care about your relationship with Vanessa. I was never naïve to think that there weren’t dozens of conquests for you before I even entered the quadrant. Besides, I don’t need another target on my back because a previous fling thinks you’re trying to protect me. In case you haven’t noticed, the minute you try to be overprotective, I seem to get hurt worse than if you left it alone.”

Your words hit exactly as you were hoping they would, and Garrick immediately deflates. 

“I don’t know what to do with myself if I can’t try and protect you. At this point, I want to be anywhere you are, any time I can be, and the only way I seem to be able to do that is by trying to protect you.” Garrick grouses like a child that’s been denied their favorite candy. 

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as you shake your head. 

“How about you try helping me train? Or with runes?” You say as your laughter begins to die. “I haven’t had time to get back to my strength before being tortured.” 

You don’t miss the darkness that takes over Garrick’s eyes as you mentioned the torture you endured. Your body and mind had slowly been healing, but there was no way to evade it in the nightmares that still stole your sleep. 

“I’m behind others in runes from being out of class so often.” You admit, though you can’t help the next jab. 

“And someone didn’t leave me fabric and a book of knots so I would be ahead of everyone else.” You let the smirk blooming stain your lips as you knock into Garrick with your shoulder. His own huff of laughter leaves his mouth before he’s looking down at you again. 

There’s no mistaking the affection shining as he looks down at you, the flecks of blue in his eyes dancing at the playfulness you’ve given him. Taking two steps forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you as soon as you hit his chest.

“I’ll do both. You don’t need to convince me to spend any of my time with you.” He looks down at you, eyes still twinkling. “Honestly, if it were up to me, you’d be glued to my side every minute, of every day.”

“Oh, Lieutenant Tavis, I would be careful of what you wish for.” You can’t help the tease as it leaves your lips. Your head begins to bob against Garrick’s chest as he lets out a booming laugh, the sound bringing a smile to your face, that for once in a long time, reaches your eyes.

________________

As you stand in formation, you wrinkle your nose as the fliers joining your squad slot themselves into your ranks. As if Zinhal decided you’ve had enough luck, Vanessa stops right in front of you, a sneer slicing her face, disdain covering her eyes as she looks you up and down. You let one eyebrow rise, a clear challenge of her perusal. 

Devera begins giving directives, but her words are broken over the beat of wings as a riot moves past on their way to the valley. There’s no mistaking Sgaeyl and Chradh heading up the front of the line, though the real surprise is when you hear the gasps and conversation around you. 

Before you even have time to look, a shadow looms behind you and strong arms wrap around your waist. A gasp of shock escapes you and a shiver crawls down your spine as you turn your head slightly to see a windblown mop of brown curls, the only thing visible with Garrick’s cold face plastered into the crook of your neck.

“Uhm, we’re still in formation, Lieutenant.” You whisper for only Garrick to hear. 

“Mmhmm, I don’t give a flying fuck. I missed you.” Garrick whispers into your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. 

“I believe the stares I’m getting might make you retract that statement.” You say, though there’s no way to hide the amusement in your voice while you stand looking back at Vanessa’s shocked expression.

“Nope, don’t fucking care.” Garrick returns while tightening his hold. His warm breath escaping as if he’s been holding it in for too long, the feeling ghosting across your neck.

You snicker as he continues to hold you all while meeting the faces of fliers and other members of your squad, a wide range of emotions playing across each and every one. A throat clearing finally brings Garrick out of his trance as he finally raises to his full height to meet the less than amused gaze of Professor Devera. 

“Lieutenant Tavis, I believe both you and Lieutenant Riorson are due to debrief the Assembly.” Devera states, although the glint in her eye says she’s more amused than agitated as her gaze swings between both men. “On top of that, their dragons are waiting for them to mount for their exercise.”

As she turns to walk towards the rest of the squads, you don’t miss the huff of sadness that leaves Garrick’s lips. Turning your head, you give him an unimpressed look, all while he just looks back with big, sad eyes. 

“You’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of you today, Honey Bear.” Xaden teases as he clasps his hand on Garrick’s shoulder.  

The pet name leaves Xaden’s lips so casually, you don’t try and stop the laugh that escapes you. If nothing else, its entertaining to see the tease of a man finally getting some back. But never one to be outdone, Garrick doesn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, thank you, Sunshine. I thought I’d be all alone. I’ll feel extra safe since I watched you take down that venin outside of Draithus.” Garrick chimes back, clearly trying to get under Xaden’s skin. 

“What?!” Violet quips while looking Xaden up and down, trying to assess for injuries. 

“Thanks for that, asshole!” Xaden’s eyes flash as he grouses at Garrick, before he’s smirking as well. “Maybe I should let your girl here know –“

Xaden’s train of thought is immediately cut off as Garrick swings his fist towards Xaden’s head, though clearly not meant to hurt. Xaden glares back at his best friend and you roll your eyes trying to draw the two men apart.

“You going to tell me what that was about? Or should I just worry that some other secret is going to come swinging for me?” You ask as soon as you get Garrick further away from Xaden. 

Garrick takes a deep breath, and you don’t miss the deadpanned look he gives you. “No, he was trying to out that I was a beat too close to getting drained by a venin in the same attack.” 

Now its your turn for your eyes to fly wide in surprise, darting left and right as if you’d be able to sense any injury to the man in front of you. 

“I’m fine.” He protests, though you’re uncertain when you see the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you trying to imply that you’re worried about little old me?”

Now it’s your turn to return the deadpanned look, lips thinning at his ribbing. “If you’re going to act like that, I’ll take my affections elsewhere.”

You turn sharply, intending to stomp away from the infuriating man, but before you can take two steps you find yourself wrapped in his embrace again. Turning in his hold, you wrap your arms around him and take a deep breath, relieved at knowing that he’s safe.

“I’d love to stay here, but if you don’t let go soon, I’m afraid Devera won’t be as nice about it.” You murmur into his chest. Garrick huffs a slight laugh before he begins to release you, though its slower than you would’ve expected, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go too fast. 

“Come find me when you get back. We can work on runes to get you caught up.” A small smile on his face as he begins walking backwards, away from you.

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant.” You sass with a mock salute, but you don’t miss the flare of fire in his eyes before you are turning and heading for Diomat and the rest of your squad. 

___________

“This is not what I expected when we were told we’d be searching for runes.” You grumble as you feel the snow of the mountain begin to sop into your boots. Scrunching your nose in distaste, you continue behind those that seemed to have mastered them. 

Your attitude isn’t helped as you must travel behind Vanessa, the girl constantly turning back to you with another sneer on her face. You try to breathe deeply and let the mountain air cool your rising aggravation, but at about the fifteenth time that she dares to turn, you’ve had enough.

“Can you please stare at something or someone else? I’m about fifteen seconds from throwing you off the nearest cliff.” Your tone is clipped, the annoyance floating through every word. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand what exactly Garrick sees in you. Littered with scars and the personality to match, seems like more of a chore to deal with you than a privilege.” Your eyes flash with anger and it takes every ounce of restraint in your body not to lunge at the girl and fulfill your promise. 

However, there’s no way to hold in the growl of frustration and there’s your mistake. No matter the way her words seem to rot into your core, you should have remained silent. Realizing too late, you look up and monitor the snow, suddenly sure that you should’ve just kept your mouth shut and endured her stare. Eyes nervously darting back and forth, you hope beyond hope that the precariously coated mountaintops will keep their mounds of snow right where they are.

“Lets just get this exercise over with so we don’t have to be in each other’s company any longer.” The only words you can get out through your grit teeth, the level of your voice so low you know only Vanessa can hear you. 

“What? Is it too intimidating to be faced with the fact that you’ll never be good enough for Garrick? That you’ll always be beleaguered with scars and cracks that nothing will ever cover?” The words again stick in your gut, churning into an acidic sludge burning in their ferocity. Who is this girl to give voice to some of the things you’ve always thought about yourself? To correctly judge you in a way no one else seems to do, as if she can get into your mind and examine every single insecurity.

“Stop.” A male flier steps up to Vanessa and tugs lightly on her arm. “We’re standing precariously on a mountain beset in snow. Now is not the time to act petty.”

An eyebrow quirks at his words, but you have no time to dissect them when you hear a crack of ice. Eyes instantly shooting to the peak above, fear begins to tighten your insides as there’s no way to stop the avalanche of snow if its precarious position changes. 

“Get moving before we all end up off the side of the cliff.” You whisper harshly, hoping that they take the warning for what it is.  

They begin to step forward, but as you continually monitor the snow, you can’t help but worry about the shifting you see from smaller piles near the edges of the cliff. Before you can take a step into the safety of the cave, a loud roar comes from somewhere within the mountain. Eyes widening in shock, you try to push into the entrance of the cave, but the slightly falling snow has now turned into an avalanche, each flake misplaced by the commanding roar. You push the flier in front of you forward, but your foot catches on a rock that was previously covered in snow, and you fall to your knees. 

‘Bold One!’ Diomat’s worried voice breaks your panic as you wrap your arms around your head to shelter yourself from the falling snow. 

Suddenly a burst of heat flows from above and you do your best to curl in as tightly as you can. Finally understanding the reason for the fire above you, you’re suddenly being doused in drops of hot water. You try to turn your head and see a flash of familiar scales, but as helpful as Diomat is by eliminating the weight of the snow, it doesn’t stop the falling stones. 

A blinding pain suddenly knocks into you as a heavy thunk resounds in your skull. Trying to open your eyes, the only thing you see is stars and blurring figures. You body starts to feel like its rolling on the ocean instead of steady on the side of a mountain, shutting your eyes tightly again you try to stave off the wave of nausea that threatens to overtake you. 

Muffled shouts sound from around you, you’re not entirely sure from where, but the echoing pound in your head causes everything to be drowned out. You bring your hands to your head and are suddenly aware of a warm and sticky dripping from the side of your face. Taking your hands from your face, your stomach revolts at the metallic smell that meets your nose, only enhancing the battering pain in your head.

After what seems an eternity of emptying your stomach, you look up to see several sets of black and brown boots around you, though their voices are still muffled from the pulsing in your head. 

A gentle hand falls to your shoulder and through the stars in your eyes, you meet the blurry gaze of your best friend. He tries to hold up his hand and ask you about the fingers on his hand, but you can’t seem to differentiate anything. 

Taking your non-confirmation as a response, you feel gentle hands roll you towards another leather-clad body. The only thing you register is the unusual color of the leather, something about the brown color confusing you before the nausea and throbbing pain cause the blackness to settle in. 

_________________

“Sometimes I think Tavis is right, your one goal in life is to be in lethal situations.” Your best friend snarks at you as you sit in your room trying to focus your vision, unsure of exactly how much time has passed since you passed out.

“This was absolutely not my fault!” You pout. “I can’t control another dragon’s roar firstly. And secondly, I’m not the one who organized that ridiculous rune hunt either.”

As you finish talking, you close your eyes trying to keep the nausea from clawing up your throat again. Though your actions seem fruitless when your best friend gets up from the bed and rocks your body, causing your vision to swim again at the change. 

A groan leaves your lips as you hear footfalls and the grogginess fogging your head the only thing you can focus on.

“Stop moving or making any noise. If you don’t, I’m going to puke on you.” You moan as you try to right your stomach again after the bed tipping. 

The room finally goes quiet as you try to settle back into the bed as slowly as you can. Before you can even register how dark the room has gotten, the blissfulness of sleep finds you again. 

The veil of sleep finally begins to lift, and you take a deep breath, eyes still closed as you try to assess the pain in your head.

“Will there ever be one time when I come back, and you aren’t half dead?” Garrick’s voice cuts through the silence causing your eyes to shoot open. “Or is that just going to be your perpetual state now?”

Your lips thin at his comments as you let yourself slowly wake up, turning your head, there’s no way to miss his large form sitting in the chair propped next to your bed. Though you can’t fully make out the look on his face through the darkness of the room.

“I’ll see what I can do about my inability to let other’s fall, Lieutenant.” You mouth, though there’s no real bite behind it. 

Garrick takes a deep breath as he rises from the chair and sits on the side of your bed. You brace yourself, expecting the nausea to hit you again, but you finally let out your breath when you realize it seems to finally have abated. 

“I think I’m going to request that you be sent wherever Sorrengail is not. Maybe then I’ll be able to keep you out of mortal peril.” Your brows scrunch as you absorb his words, though he continues. “It seems Andarna killed Solas within the cave network you were in. Your squad, unfortunately, seems to be the one that was closest to them.”

“Ah.” You say, because there’s nothing more to be explained. “So, you’re saying that Varrish and his fire breathing companion are both now dead, correct?”

A dark look passes over Garrick’s features, before he lays down next to you and pulls you forward to rest your head on his chest.

“Yes, it seems as though that issue has now come to a close. Although, that doesn’t stop anyone from taking their place.” You hum in acknowledgment, but between the warmth of Garrick’s body and the lulling rhythm of his heart, your eyes begin to droop again.

“Sleep. I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Garrick whispers as his arm tightens around you. His body a fortress of safety, a shelter in the storm of the life you’ve found yourself in.

_____________

Finally having an afternoon to yourself, you take the time to stroll into Aretia. The bustle of the city seems to settle your nervous energy. The smell of sweets wafting from the cafés, the sounds of children playing near the small school, the bustle of conversation within the market stalls, all combine to a sense of normalcy that you haven’t experienced since crossing the parapet. 

You relish in the simple pleasures of the day to day. Watching the blacksmith take orders, the farmers bringing in carts lined with vegetables, woodworkers turning wood for furniture, every single person engrossed in their daily lives. 

You’d once thought you’d feel like an outsider watching others live their lives, but instead it has seemed to bring you a peace you didn’t know you missed. 

A smile graces your face as you swing open the familiar door to Fabien’s café, the warm scent of coffee assaulting every single sense. Walking up to the counter, you hit the small bell and smile again when you hear a voice call from the back.

“One second!” Fabien’s voice echoes from inside the kitchen.

As you wait, you let your fingers rove over the cups on the shelves, the smooth velvet of the chairs, the worn wood of the counter, committing every single detail to memory. 

Everything an effort to try and get the pit out of your stomach. A stone that seemed to settle there this morning that will not dislodge.  

You turn around again as you hear the familiar squeak of the door separating the kitchen and the front. 

“What can I get for you?” Fabien says without looking at you and you smile.

“O – Oh! Hello!” He now greets as he looks back at you for the first time. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since that ruckus in battle brief.”

“I’m doing well, thank you. Just came for a cup of hot chocolate and some conversation.” You admit. “I have the afternoon off and needed a distraction outside of the fortress.”

“Yes, it can get a bit stuffy in there.” A quick chuckle escapes your lips at Fabien’s quip. “Go ahead and make yourself at home. I’ll get your drink ready, and we can chat.”

True to his word, minutes later, you are holding a steaming mug of rich chocolate. You inhale, letting the sweet scent of the chocolate melt into your nostrils, the warmth of the cup chasing away the chill of your hands. Tipping the cup, you soften into the pleasantness of the liquid hitting your tongue, the pleasure dampening the weight of the stone in your stomach. 

“I hear you’ve been having quite the adventures lately.” Fabien muses as he clutches his own cup of the molten chocolate. 

You harrumph, not wanting to receive another lecture about your reckless ways. “It isn’t like I plan on most of these things. The only thing I could possibly be blamed for it willingly going to Cordyn.”

You pause, a thoughtful look on your face. “Let’s just say I’ll probably think twice about agreeing to any more of Sorrengail’s ideas.”

Fabien laughs at your words. “I think that would probably be wise. From what I’ve seen between her and Riorson, they seem to attract the wrong kind of, well, everything really.”

There’s no way to control the unrestrained laughter that leaves you at Fabien’s statement. 

“I see I’m not the only one that’s noticed that the opposite of luck seems to follow them around.” You muse as you take another sip. 

Several hours go by as you catch up with Fabien, regaling him with your travels to Cordyn, the introduction of the fliers, and the other changes that seem to take place in your life day-to-day. He in turn tells you of all the families that have flocked to Aretia and the way they have seamlessly integrated themselves with those that remained. The smile that you entered with, seems to be a permanent fixture to your face here, though it drops as Diomat’s voice breaks through.

‘It would be prudent for you to return to the fortress.’ Diomat orders, though her voice is laced with concern.

‘Why? What is going on?’ You quip back, irritated at the elusive responses from dragons.

‘I’ll let the Lieutenant inform you.’ She says before seeming to close you off.

Huffing, you bid goodbye to Fabien and begin to walk back towards the fortress. The stone in your stomach seems to return, especially with the ominous way in which Diomat seems to be guarding her words.

Strong gusts of wind tousle your hair as you make your way from the café, every step tightening the dread that has coiled around you as a second skin. You try to take deep breaths, but your heart begins to beat faster as you begin to lay eyes on the cadets that seem to be milling around. 

There are no smiles, no teasing, only dour faces, every single person that you pass looks as if any fight has been leeched from their eyes. 

What the hell happened?

Every worst-case scenario seems to flit through your mind as you make your way up the curving pathway. Eyes searching each and every person, you try to find a familiar face from your squad, but you come up empty. 

At least you thought you did, until your eyes lock on Natasha. The look she gives you makes your steps falter, there’s no mistaking the fright and worry, the way she holds onto another flier next to her. Without ruminating on who you’re about to address, you march towards her, desperate to figure out what exactly is happening. 

“What the hell is going on? Why does everyone look like we just lost a major battle?” You ask, hoping that for once she will put your differences aside and be straight forward. 

“There was an attack.” Her voice falters as she starts. “On Pavis. They were outnumbered and outclassed. The venin moved in and even with reinforcements they took the city.”

Only one word seems to click in your mind. 

Pavis. 

Garrick was near Pavis. 

Garrick, the man that you hadn’t given your heart back to. 

The man that you had fallen asleep with just days ago.

The thought hit you suddenly and the next thing you registered was the pounding of your boots as you sprinted inside of Riorson House.

Legs burning while climbing the stairs two at a time. Breath tearing through your lungs as you try to push yourself harder. You hadn’t waited to hear if there was anyone injured or dead, because you couldn’t possibly stand the thought that it could possibly be true. 

Breaking out onto the floor of the family quarters, you came to an abrupt halt as you tried to breathe oxygen back into your lungs. 

A smattering of movement at the end of the hall grabs your attention and your eyes flare as they land on the person. He’s covered in soot, every inch of him battle-hardened. Blood and grime covering every possible surface, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s standing. He’s walking and breathing. 

And looking directly at you.

Your mind doesn’t need to direct your legs, because they are again pumping through the roaring burn. Sprinting, you refuse to slow down, refuse to be gentle. The minute you are in front of him, your arms swing out and you’re throwing yourself at the man in front of you. 

Your arms tighten around his neck, face buried into his neck. He grabs you back just as fiercely, grabbing your thighs as you swing your legs around his waist. You don’t know when the tears started, when the wave of relief finally crashed over you, but now that you’re in Garrick’s arms, none of it matters. 

Nothing else matters except the man you are tangled in. 

“You’re alright.” The words leave your mouth in an almost inaudible whisper, but you chant them again and again like a prayer. An offering to any god willing to listen. 

A small laugh leaves Garrick’s lips as he kisses you on your forehead, resting his head against yours and at that moment every single wall breaks. 

They all tumble down. Every single brick you had erected around the organ that beats for the man whose embrace you’re locked in. Every insurmountable wall gone in seconds. 

Pulling your face back, you stare into the hazel eyes that have held your heart for over the last year, even through your anger. The eyes that you hoped would never look at anyone else the way they looked back at you now. 

Throwing every single worry about your relationship out the window, you grab Garrick’s cheeks and search his eyes, unsure of what you’re looking for. 

It’s the crinkle at the ends that finally pushes everything else away. Tightening your hold, you surge forward and capture Garrick’s lips in a kiss you can only hope was worth the wait.

In answer to your question, Garrick’s grip on your thigh tightens as he brings his other arm to wrap around your waist. His grip strengthening so there is no space left between you. You don’t hear the click of the lock or the closing of the door, but the remaining breath leaves your lungs when he pins you to the door. Even breathless, you can’t bring yourself to stop kissing him. Every nerve in your body singing with the fire that you’ve only felt with him. 

It's Garrick that breaks the kiss first, pulling back to rest his forehead on yours. 

“Gods. I will fight for that for the rest of my gods damned life if I have to.” He pants, trying to regain his breath. “I can’t fucking lose you again.”

Your eyes lock on his and you’ve never seen the blue and gold flecks shine so brilliantly, each speck shining with a look of love so strong it would knock you down if you were standing. 

He walks backwards, but you stay wrapped around him while he sets himself down in the plush chair in his room, never breaking contact. Both arms now wrapped around your waist, pulling you as far into him as he possibly can. 

“I – I thought...” You trail off not able to give life to the thought of something happening to him, the words lodging in your throat. 

“I know. But I’m here.” He says placatingly, clearly knowing that you need the reassurance. His fingers absentmindedly tracing circles onto your waist. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

A small huff leaves your mouth at his words, but your heart swells at the thought.

“As much as I want to take this at your pace, I – I just can’t do that anymore.” Garrick murmurs, though you don’t miss the plea in his voice. “I need you here. To be wrapped in my arms at night. To be able to kiss you and remind myself that you’re still here. To cover you in every ounce of love I can possibly give. I refuse to give you up. For as little or as much time as we have left together.”

You let his words settle, bringing your hands to his face, fingers stroking his cheeks gently before replying.

“Okay.” Simple and straightforward. There’s no question left in your mind now. The fears of being hurt again, fading to the background, gone with the possibility of losing him. 

“Okay?” Garrick responds, clearly surprised by your easy agreement. 

“Okay.” You repeat as you place a soft kiss on his lips in confirmation. 

The movement causes a smile to break out on Garrick’s face as you back up slightly to take him in. A matching smile paints your face as you take everything in, which quickly turns into a giggle when Garrick picks you up and spins you around and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You continue to laugh, happiness overtaking all the concern and worry. 

“Ugh!” You exclaim, though its barely heard through your laughter. “You sir, need a bath!”

Turning his eyes to you, all you see is mischief and the smirk on his face before he’s manhandling you into the bathroom and turning on the tap with lesser magic. You shriek but that does nothing against his grip on you.

“You said I needed a bath, and I told you I need you here.” Garrick teases before you are suddenly doused in the cold water of the shower. 

“I hate you!” You shriek as you shiver under the cold water.

“No, you don’t.” Garrick murmurs in your ear, but every ounce of mischief has gone from his tone. “You love me, and I love you. And from this day on, you are only mine.” Each statement punctuated with a lingering kiss to your face.

As he finishes speaking, he looks back to you with a reverence that you’re unsure if you deserve, but you don’t have time to think before his warm lips draw every thought that isn’t him from your head. The cold water completely forgotten, you let yourself melt into the warm embrace that only Garrick can provide. The electricity of his kiss, his touch, confirming what you already knew. 

There is no way you’ll survive without this man.

Taglist: @ilovetomtailor@nevermoresworld@nastylicious@iambored24601@mysticalfuncollectorus@sadpieceofbread @thatonegameaddict @lagrandeourse @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[xechu]

Blue Sea 【Satoru Gojo • 五条 悟】

pairing: curse!satoru gojo x fem!reader wc: 1.9k cw: 18+ / mdni. Please read blog rules before interacting. Mature themes, mild blood, supernatural themes, emotional tension, non-sexual nudity. tags: mini-series · reincarnation · soulmates · hurt/comfort · eventual smut summary: you wake up, thinking it was all a nightmare. Except, there is a stranger in your bed?! a/n: tag list is open - leave a comment on any of this series' posts if you'd like to be added. Thank you for reading! x Master List: << part 1 | part 3 (to be continued) >>

PART 2 - Who Are You?

That clear summer day, he wasn’t supposed to die. He was about to return home to you—his wife—when his world suddenly collapsed and turned black.

He had been betrayed.

Even after roaming the earth for over three hundred years, he remembered his death vividly. Death itself was not something he feared. After all, he had the privilege of knowing there were fates far worse—you had shown him what they truly were.

The only reason why death terrified him, was because only in death, would his worst fears come true.

He feared leaving you alone.

He feared, selfishly, that if he were to perish, you would move on and love another man.

He feared not being your one and only.

And worst of all, he feared you would forget him.

It was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he would give you the world. On the other, he had wished that your entire world was only him.

So when the universe allowed him to return to you, to defy death itself, he took the chance without a second thought. A divine oath was sworn.

But to his horror, he returned not as a man, but as a monster. A curse.

And you were already gone.

It was promised that he would eventually reunite with you—though, in fate’s cruel fashion, it never said when. Every second without you was torture.

But still, he waited.

For you, he would endure centuries of loneliness. Because you, his love, were worth the wait.

He roamed the sky, as he had for the past three hundred years. But today felt different. There was a stir in the air. The sky was his domain; nothing in its vastness escaped him—not even the faintest tremor.

He tried to pinpoint the source, which led him to the seaside. A place he had avoided all these years because it brought back too many memories—ones soaked in sorrow and regret.

Then a sharp pain smote through his chest. It was unbearable. The same pain he felt in his final moment, when he knew he was about to leave you. His vision blurred, body seized, and he began to freefall from the sky.

As he came to it, he knew he impacted somewhere. His mind screamed pain at him—he was certain every bone in his body had shattered. And yet, he felt nothing.

Was he dying all over again?

"A-Are you alright?"

It was your voice.

He couldn’t believe it—it was really your sweet voice.

His patience was finally rewarded.

This was the reunion he had been promised. Despite his battered body, he wanted to reach out. But his body did not listen to his mind. 

He didn’t wish to hurt you. But as if by reflex, an act of desperation and survival, he snapped up and grabbed you—like a feral beast that had lost all sense of reason and control. He sank his teeth into you.

Your blood offering bound the two of you together—two souls, one life.

You would never escape him again.

When he came to, you were unconscious. Then he saw it—his reflection in the shattered glass.

He was a man again.

Now, all he had to do was wait for you to wake, and he could start his life with you once more.

As husband and wife.

…

The warmth of the sunlight streamed through the window. It felt like you were being cradled in God's embrace. Perhaps you had died and still managed to make it onto the good list.

But if this was paradise, why did you have a throbbing headache?

Your eyes opened, vision slowly focusing.

Pecs.

Godly, chiseled pecs.

You blinked several times.

Then horror descended upon you like a ton of bricks. You were in the arms of an unfamiliar man. You screamed, arms flailing as you pushed yourself off of him.

The man blinked awake at your outburst. And to your absolute displeasure, he smiled lazily—like this was all perfectly normal. His eyes were too familiar. They reminded you of a clear summer sky.

And the blue sea.

"Good morning—"

SLAP

Your hand moved before your brain could catch up. Heart racing at the realization of what you'd just done. You had never slapped anyone before.

But it felt oddly liberating...to slap a man.

Especially a man with such audacity.

"Who the fuck are you?! Why are you in my bed?!" you shrieked, scrambling to the farthest corner of the mattress.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Impossible.

This wasn’t the reunion he had expected.

You were supposed to be shedding tears of joy. Telling him how much you missed him. Telling him that you, too, had waited lifetimes for him.

Instead, this was a complete nightmare. This was all wrong.

One of his worst fears had been realized: you had forgotten him.

He reached for your wrist, concern immediately lacing his features, desperate to rectify the situation—anything to make you remember, and anything to erase that dreadful look of fear in your eyes.

“Darling, it’s me—”

But as if the sheer horror in your eyes wasn’t enough, by some ungodly trickery, the blanket slipped from his frame as he sat up, revealing that he was completely nude.

Dangerously. Gloriously. Nude.

You screamed louder, grabbed the nearest pillow, and hurled it at his face—before spartan-kicking him off the bed with a surprising force. The room shook with a heavy thump as he landed on the floor. Breath caught in your throat, you backed into the far corner—spine pressed tight to the wall. Anything and everything to put distance between you and this creep.

He stood slowly, a mixture of concern and confusion etched on his face. His world felt like it was unraveling, dangerously fast. It was all too much to accept. But the terror and confusion in your features told him all he needed to know.

This was hell real.

A small bitter laugh escaped his lips. He should have known better than to expect that everything would be the same again. After all, the universe loved to play its cruel and twisted games. First, they returned him as a monster. Now, they had returned him your body—but not your heart. Not your memories. Not your love.

As for your soul?

That would have to be something he explained to you later...though he wasn’t sure how you'd react.

“P-Please—just put something on!” you demanded, voice exasperated, still huddled in the corner with your face buried in your hands.

Shame. You had always loved his body. His heart ached at the thought. But it wasn’t exactly the appropriate time for a trip down memory lane.

For now, he had to put aside his own pain and desires. Regaining your trust was more important.

He let out a small sigh and glanced around the room.

It wasn’t exactly his choice that he had returned to this form in the nude. He was still trying to understand how he turned back human—at least, physically speaking. He could only assume it had something to do with your blood.

In truth, he had tried to find something to cover himself the last night—but he couldn’t find anything. Then again, he wouldn’t have expected you to have men’s clothing lying around as a single woman. That would have been more disturbing (to him) if you did.

He swore he had no ill intent.

He would never do anything without your consent.

Well...except for the part where his survival instinct kicked in and he bit you. That, he deeply regrets.

With no other options, he took the pillow you'd thrown at him and held it modestly in front of himself.

You just needed time. He hoped you’d remember soon.

No. You must remember.

He couldn't bear the thought of parting from you again.

As he stood there, dazed, you took the opportunity to grab your phone. Your hands trembled as you dialed for emergency.

"Hello, this is district police—what’s your emergency?"

"H-hi," you stammered, "there’s a man in my house and I—"

“Ah, no—please don’t do that.”

He closed the distance in a few strides and plucked the phone from your hand. Without hesitation, he crushed it in his palm.

You stared at him, stupefied, as the phone crumbled from his grasp.

Speechless. Frozen. Utterly helpless. You slumped to the floor in surrender and defeat. What was next? Was he going to crush your skull with that same hand?

Please let this be a nightmare. Or a psychotic break. That was the only explanation. Any moment now, you'd wake up. In your bed. Alone. With a working phone.

The man took a cautious step forward.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you. The pillow was still firmly intact. “I’ll explain everything. I promise—I would never hurt you.”

“B-But you—yesterday—” You could barely form words.

Clearly, the man before you looked human—not some mythical creature. But deep down, you knew he was the same entity as last night.

It was those cerulean eyes.

Eyes that felt oddly familiar. Eyes that looked like windows into his soul. They reflected his emotions without needing to speak.

And right now, as you met his gaze, the emotion was unmistakable.

Hurt.

But why?

Why did this man remind you of a teenage boy who had just been rejected by his first love?

And why did you feel so...awful?

Was this some kind of spell? Was he some great seductor?

After all, that was how he fooled you into thinking he was harmless—right before taking a bite out of your neck.

You absently touched the spot as you thought about it, only to find that it was bandaged.

What the hell?

And now, with the adrenaline beginning to fade, you noticed a dull ache in your foot. Looking down, you realize that, too, was neatly bandaged.

You blinked.

Last night was a blur. It felt like watching a crappy Microsoft PowerPoint of fragmented memories: shattered glass, blood splotches, a creature dying in your kitchen, you walking up to it, getting bitten, end of slideshow.

Did he do this?

Why was he able to find your first-aid kit but not something to cover himself?

But you didn’t have it in you to argue.

There were more pressing matters than figuring out why Adonis was naked, kneeling in front of you with only a pillow for modesty. You could still see his ass in the mirror, though—which you tried very hard not to look at.

You let out a heavy sigh.

The horror and wariness didn’t vanish, but it dulled just enough for you to think more clearly. He could have hurt you. Killed you, even.

But he didn’t.

In fact, he tried to help.

Your eyes flicked back up to him. A complete stranger. Inhumanly strong. Clutching the world’s saddest fig leaf—staring at you with eyes like a lost pup.

“Fine,” you muttered, averting your gaze. “You owe me.”

You stood up, wobbling slightly as you made your way out of the bedroom. You didn’t spare him another glance. You still didn’t trust him.

But you needed to get away. Even just for a moment.

To think. To breathe.

And maybe start cleaning up this godforsaken mess.

“Um…think I could borrow some clothes?” he sheepishly smiled.

You swear you wanted to slap him again.

Maybe even strangle him.

But mostly, you just wanted this disaster to be over.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Pearl dividers belong to © @/anitalenia - resource here

[hanmaitani]

FIRST BORN

a rumplestiltskin twisted fairytale...

PAIRING - Ryomen Sukuna x Reader WC - 1.3k GENRE - smut CW - heavy dubcon, tf sukuna, monster fucking, two cocks, oral m!receiving, unprotected fucking, size kink, mentions of breeding, cumplay? /SUMMARY - you were nothing until you made a deal with the devil, to give you a name, a status, success, he told you that you'd owe him your first born... you didn't know how he'd meant it...

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

It had been years. Years since the day you made your deal with the devil.

It isn’t like you ever forgot about it. It lived in the back of your mind constantly. The devil’s clawed fingertips digging in whenever you thought you could be happy, reminding you of the promise you’d made in return for what he’d given you.

What he’d given you… Every now and again you’d find yourself questioning if what you’d gotten was worth the price. A status. If you broke it down, all he’d done was change your status with a few people. A few of the right people.

But that small change had freefalled, spiraled into a change of success rate, your wealth, the respect people had for you. You’d been nothing when you’d made the deal, and now? Now you were well renowned in your field and making so much money you didn’t know what to do with it.

All for the low low price of a child that hadn’t even been born yet…

Sometimes the thought kept you up at night and you tried to think of loopholes. How you could just never have kids, sacrifice that desire. Or how you could convince your now soon-to-be husband you weren’t pregnant during the first and he’d never have to know.

You’d promised away your first born child and that haunted the back of your mind some days. You hadn’t thought about it at the time, the deal seeming childish and implausible. You’d regretted it since. Especially now.

You twisted in your bedsheets, your room only illuminated by the moon through the window. Every time you moved, the white silk of your nightdress brushed against your skin softly. You were nervous, but not because of the deal. In fact, it was pushed to the back of your mind for the night. Your only focus was your wedding. The one set for the morning.

The relationship had been a whirlwind. An unexpected union. But the man you’d be marrying had pursued you so purely that you were sure you could be happy with him. But that was what you were worrying about, twisting in your sheets. Would you truly be happy?

“All dressed up for me?” The voice that echoes through your room takes you by surprise. You nearly jump out of your skin as you jerk up into a sitting position, searching for the source of it. Red eyes seem to glow in the space by the window, four of them staring right at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten of our deal?”

You know who it is before he steps into the light, the deal that haunts you. “Y-you…” your voice is shaking as his form comes into shape, he looks different than when you first saw him. He looms taller, nearly as tall as your ceiling, four eyes and four arms. A monster in your midst.

You shake your head as you scramble up out of your bed, scuffling backwards, trying to get away without turning your back to him. “But I- I’m not- it’s not time for you to collect yet…” You’re confused, scared, and feeling so, so small.

“You all dressed up like a sacrifice for me already?” He chuckles when you hit the wall and he only has to take a few steps to cross the distance to you. Two of his arms lean against the wall near your head, caging you in, one immediately starts to grope at your hip while the last one pinches at the light fabric of your white nightdress.

“I don’t- I don’t have a child to give you…” you’re not understanding his implications, your brain not wrapping around the smirk he wears.

“You mistook my words, sweet thing,” his nose drags along your neck as he inhales and you’re sure you’re shaking when his tongue flicks out to lick you. “I left you alone for these years, waiting until you were ready. And now you think you can give yourself to another man? A mere mortal?” He laughs as his clawed fingers dig into the fabric of your dress, immediately starting to tear at it. “I made you, you’re mine. And now you’re going to give me your first born. He’ll be mine too.”

You can barely process what he’s said before he’s tearing your dress as he shoves you to your knees. Your gasp is cut short when the lower two of his arms pin your own to the wall by your head and you’re suddenly aware of how little is covering such a big part of him. Or… parts of him, you learn as tears that fabric away too.

He can smell the fear that radiates off of you as you take in the sight of his two cocks bobbing under your attention. He grips the lower one first, fisting it as he brings it closer to your lips. “Open up now,” he laughs as you obey out of fear, worried of what would happen if he were to have to force you. He’s lewd about it too, smearing the leaking tip of it against your lips before pushing past them.

The stretch of it mixed with how the second cock drags across your cheek, leaking onto it, makes you tear up in humiliation. Your lips have to open wide, stretch almost painfully to accommodate the way just one of his cocks as he pushes it in without remorse. “Remember I made you,” rings in your ears as he groans, his hand wrapping into your hair to force his cock deeper.

He isn’t kind with it. You swear your ears stop working, fuzzy sounds barely making it through the haze as he fucks into your mouth without remorse. Your saliva drips from the corners of your lips and the gags forced from your throat sound wet, squelching.

“You’re such a messy little toy, knew you would be…” His comment is paired quickly with a large glob of saliva landing on your cheek. You whine at the impact, the demeaning act of him spitting on you as his cock is snugly down your throat. Your vision darkening on the edges and your lungs burning.

You swear you’re about to lose consciousness when he pulls back, leaving the tip in your mouth as he fills your mouth with his cum. Before you can think to spit or swallow, he’s dragging you up with one hand keeping your mouth closed as he looked down at you. “Let’s keep that in there for later, okay?”

You’re dizzy as he manipulates your body. It’s embarrassing to admit but you’re already dripping by the time his second cock is prodding at your entrance.

He doesn’t care to prep you, as he holds your back to his chest, two hands on your waist to hover you over his cock. The stretch itself feels like you’re being split apart, like he’s rearranging you to fit only him as he presses into you.

Your eyes are already crossed, his hand cupping your chin so he can see your expression as you lose your wits, trying to keep you from losing the cum he’d left in your mouth. Your whines sound like gargles as he fucks into you, his other cock brushing against your clit.

“You’re such a tiny little toy,” he growls above you, one hand pressing to your lower stomach as he fucks into you, the tip of his cock bumping against his hand through your skin, “I’m going to enjoy shaping your womb to the size of my heir…”

A/N - i have many thoughts and no spoons

TAGLIST - OPEN

@needtoloveoutloud @littleplantfreak @hayatoseyepatch

@tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501 @qichun

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[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 22! coming in late ugh! but we get a two for one special today be on the lookout cw: minor breathplay wc: 932 ੈ✩‧₊˚

It’s not often you’re the one being chased. You’re usually the one finding anomalies and taking them down, taking them back to HQ. But tonight, you’re the one who’s being hunted. Tonight you’re the villain and he’s on the prowl. 

Your webs strain and thwip from building to building. Running and sliding over rooftops, climbing windows and fire escapes. Trying to find a place to hide out and see if you can spot him. You know he’s not far behind you. But you both turned your trackers off so there’s no telling where he is exactly. 

It’s exciting. All of this. And you told him to play it up. Told him to pick you up and throw you around a bit if he wants. Something you’ve been craving.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. A telltale sign that he’s close. You can sense him. You’re perched on a skyscraper, tuning out the sounds of busy Nueva York city to listen for him. Trying to listen for his breath, his heartbeat, his steps, anything. 

Staying deadly still, dialing your senses to 11. Scanning your surroundings and trying to pick up anything you can. A metal creak has you turning to see the source, only for his hand to grasp your face, sharp talons pricking your cheeks. “Found you.” He growls. 

Instantly you’re jumping from your hiding spot. A rush of adrenaline and energy. His hands try to grab onto you as you launch yourself from the edge of the building, thwipping and pulling yourself to a neighboring skyscraper and making your way down the block. The chase is really on. 

As fast as you can, you’re pulling yourself through buildings, sprinting across rooftops, looking back at any chance you get to see him trampling up the sides of buildings. Huge and hulking as always. His claws digging into the brick and sparking off metal siding. It’s scary. Like being chased up a flight of stairs. Knowing every new step you take, he’ll already be up one step too. Your heart is beating so fast and hard. 

You get to the edge of a crane, more than a hundred feet in the air. The wind whipping past your cheek and taking one second too long to decide your next jumping point. When his red glowing webs reach you, wrapping around your torso, making you gasp, trying to break out of them but he’s gaining on you, climbing up the crane on all fours, like an animal stalking its prey. “No no no!” You squeal with a smile, heart beating out of your chest and messing with the webs to break them. And he’s smiling too, watching you trying to escape him. 

Once the webs finally break and you’re free, you lean back, allowing yourself to freefall. But he lunges forward, talon tacking in your suit before grabbing you by the throat, his big hand firm yet gentle. Not to hurt you, just to hold you. “You should stop running, baby, I caught you…” 

“I can still get awa-” You gasp, your hands coming up to hold onto his wrist as his fingers tighten just slightly around your airways for a moment. Forbidding you from finishing your sentence. The pad of his thumb pushes your head to the side, and his head tilts to keep looking in your eyes. “Go ahead and try… see if I’ll let you get away…” 

The words stoke the fire already burning inside you. Making you want him, making you need him right now. But you need to play the game. And you can see that glint in his eyes, telling you he’s loving this too. 

He moves quickly, releasing your throat and grabbing you up in his arms, pressing himself to you and trying to squeeze you in his grasp. And there’s that vulnerable moment you’ve been waiting for. Squirming from his hands and stepping back off the crane structure, falling off the edge and out of his grasp, but he’s instantly on you. Soaring through the air and he swoops in, grabbing you around the waist, instead pulling you the opposite direction. Swinging on his neon webs up through the night sky. You could struggle, you could fight, but the feeling of being so snuggly kept beside him, the cold air in your face, the flip in your stomach as you fly through the sky, knowing he’s got you now, knowing you’re caught. It’s enthralling, it’s intoxicating. 

“I’ve got you, just give in to me…” He smirks, jumping onto a skyscraper rooftop. Wind whipping past both of you. The moon is the only source of light this far up. City lights are far below. “You can’t run anymore…” 

He’s on you, stopping your squirming and smiling when he can hear the laughter that bubbles up in you. Pushing you down on the cold metal, holding your hands behind your back and wrapping some of his webs around them. Not the artificial ones that glow red, but his. And it’s now you’re like a fly in his trap, in his web. He’s quick to shred your suit, finding how wet you’ve become. Who knew you’d love being chased like this, treated like you’ve done something you need to be punished for. 

“You stay nice and still now…” He huffs, prodding your core with his cock and nudging at the entrance. His long fingers grabbing into your hair and tugging gently, just to lift your head and hear the gasps, the whines, the cries that escape you as he slips in your cunt to the hilt. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Stories and Dolls

A/N – Okay, so I just quit my job and I’m freefalling right now. Time to channel my anxiety into fanfiction. Also, this chapter is darker so I’m raising the rating to M.

Warnings – MENTIONS OF RAPE, S/A, ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, AND TORTURE.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.  

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

Still stuck in your ragdoll body, you ran back to the balcony and vaulted over the edge. It wasn’t a smooth landing, and it hurt a lot. Anyone else would have broken their bones, but when you were like this, there wasn’t anything else that could be broken. Everything had already been torn off you. Ignoring the pain, you ran until you found a taxi. You took it to the Hotel.

[linkons-most-wanted]

Sylus is an Alpha (But Not How You'd Think)

Alright Deepspace Hunters, today we're talking about subverting the alpha trope* 👩🏼‍🏫 And in honor of our favorite dragon's birthday, we're going to start off with some bona fide animal facts.

* There are lots of great subversions of the alpha trope out there, so I want to be clear that I'm talking about stereotypical "toxic" alpha behavior, not "alpha" characters in general

The truth about alpha wolves

The classic image of male wolves relentlessly fighting for dominance is actually debunked--in the wild, wolf packs are primarily families with the mated pair and their children. Adult wolves may stay and help their parents hunt, or may strike out on their own to form new packs.

That being said, one of the few places where the environment can support larger, more dynamic wolf packs is Yellowstone. And that brings us to Wolf 21.

Wolf 21

In 1995, wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone. Field researcher Rick McIntyre has been studying them pretty much ever since. He's written at length about one particular wolf--Wolf 21--who never lost a fight, but also never killed a vanquished rival.

Lemme just share some quotes and see if this reminds you of anyone: (source)

Wolf 21 was known for his unwavering bravery, his unusual benevolence (unlike other alphas, he never killed defeated rival males), and his fierce commitment to his mate, the formidable Wolf 42

Over the next few years, I continued to watch and study 21, 42, and the other Druid wolves. It became clear that 42 was the true leader of the pack, not 21. She appeared to make all the major decisions in the pack such as where to den and where to move the pups when they got older.

Wolf 21 was very tough when it came to protecting his family but had a playful side to his personality. He spent a lot of time playing with his pups and repeatedly would pretend that they had beaten him in chasing and wrestling games. I recall a time when he ran around in circles near his pups, then did a pratfall in front of them, like a movie comedian.

42 died first but at a site far away from 21. We knew that she was dead, but he did not, only that she was missing. He searched the pack’s territory for her but never found the site where she died. [...] That was the last time I saw him alive. He left his family and disappeared. [...] he went to a high elevation meadow where he and 42 had spent many days together with their pups and other pack members.

Notably, after 21's death, one of the wolves that 21 spared later became cooperative and fought (and died) to defend 21's descendants. (Source) Ultimately, 21's approach helped improve the pack's long-term survival, even after 21's death.

Could there possibly be a more Sylus-coded wolf?

Sylus and violence

Violence must be used strategically, of course. Sylus uses restraint when it comes to physical force. He could easily kill an entire room of people for looking at him wrong--and he doesn't. While he makes the rules of the N109 Zone very clear, and does not take kindly to being crossed, he's hardly the type of person to want people kissing the ground as he walks by.

While Sylus does outright kill bullies and thugs (which is always a delight) more often we see him run his enemies off, at least giving them a chance to survive by their own strength/merits, if they have them. He unleashes the beasts on the High Lords in Land of Lost (Anecdote); he goads the Shadetide members out of the plane in Freefall Gambit; etc.

While stereotypical "alpha males" are looking for any chance to show off, often responding with more force and violence than is necessary, Sylus shows restraint even when violence is warranted. By selectively offering second chances, Sylus earns a sort of respect and awe from the N109 Zone that makes them less likely to organize against him. If they see him as fair, yet powerful, they are more likely to accept his influence.

We see this restraint clearly in how he handles Luke and Kieran in the Mischief World Underneath story. He uses no more force than is necessary to protect himself, and he deliberately spares them twice without any intention to recruit them. And in the end, they turn out to be his most trustworthy minions.

Sylus and rivals

When it comes to people he can go toe-to-toe with, as when he boxes as Crow, we see him treat his competition with respect. He doesn't cheat or flaunt his Evol--he's willing to lose in a fair fight. To him, the challenge of pushing himself is more important than the status of winning or losing.

Stereotypical "alpha males" tend to have such fragile egos that they can't handle losing at all. They may limit their participation to only activities where they know they can dominate. Not so for our Big Bad Boss Man, who will even put his all into playing Kitty Cards.

Sylus yearns for MC's power to grow so that she can be his true rival again. He doesn't want her to be weak so he can feel powerful--he wants her to be strong so they can make each other stronger. This is a crucial subversion of the stereotypical alpha trope.

Sylus and playfulness

To me, this is the trait that most makes Sylus stand out from stereotypical "alpha male" types. Not only does this playfulness make him more pleasant and engaging to be around, but it also has a strategic value.

By approaching any challenge like a game, Sylus is able to keep a cool head and not get too emotionally entangled in the outcome. This observational distance allows for better decision making and problem solving.

Contrast this to the alpha male stereotype, which tends more towards cocky and dismissive or taking things way too seriously. Freefall Gambit is such a good example of this--Sylus is just out there living his best and most unhinged life, eager to make a game of back-and-forth with MC.

Interestingly, it also emphasizes how he's a kink-forward character. Kink is a fundamentally playful, game-like activity and Sylus's character really embraces this.

Sylus and power

There's a theme running through Sylus's character that I like to call "true power". When you are truly strong, you know you can take a hit. When you are truly strong, you deal directly with the things that threaten you--whether those are external forces or your own internal demons. True strength begets honestly, and humility in the sense of being realistic.

Sylus doesn't need to posture or show off, because he can simply do what needs done when the time comes. Now, of course this is helped by his powers being OP, but IRL we can also see parallels in people who calmly observe, then quietly and confidently take the lead when the time is right. They don't need to bully, manipulate, or belittle others because they have the substance of character to get people on-board to follow them without stooping to such tricks.

This doesn't mean Sylus is a pushover--when someone crosses a line, he'll make an example of them. But it's never just to boost his own ego--there's always a strategy at play. For example, by letting the terrified Shadetide members live in Freefall Gambit, Sylus is guaranteeing that they'll remind the rest of the N109 Zone that Sylus isn't one to cross. That life debt they owe him (for sparing them) can also work to Sylus's advantage in the future.

So, Sylus's power isn't only physical, but intellectual and emotional. His ability to toy with desire gives him an intuitive understanding of what people want, and by keeping his own ego out of the way, he's able to apply his power in ways that actually matter vs. just empty posturing.

Sherman is intentionally set up as a contrast to this--he's cocky, described as peacocking around, etc. And when Sylus comes back to town, we see that Sherman doesn't have any real power at all. In Sylus PoV works, I like to play with this theme (which is also supported by how he talked about the hypocrites at the Sanctuary in Beyond Cloudfall) and demonstrate how differently someone behaves when they have actual power, not just the appearance of power.

Sylus and power exchange

Stereotypical "alpha males" want to take power from others so they can feel stronger. Sylus very specifically wants to help the key people in his life grow stronger (i.e. MC, Mephisto, Luke, & Kieran). I think we can even infer that he supports Aislinn in a similar way, given how long he's been supporting Elysium despite his deal with Ginevra only applying to the gang war of 2036.

Sure, Sylus teases MC about not being able to escape him, but when he realizes that she's actually bothered by his behavior, he takes a big step back. It's not fun or interesting to him to take freedom away from someone. His main wish for MC is for her to live boldly.

And as we see in No Defense Zone, Valleydream Bloom, and other memories, Sylus specifically enjoys when MC takes charge and bosses him around. He wants there to be a give-and-take, a push-and-pull. It's about power exchange, not power theft.

Sylus and vulnerability

The purpose of a lot of toxic "alpha male" behavior is to hide vulnerability. But what we generally see in Sylus is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. He's willing to die for MC, sure--but as he tells Luke and Kieran, dying is easy.

More importantly, he's willing to live for her--to confront the pain and loneliness, to accept that there's risk involved in her living boldly. To tell her how he feels about her, without knowing if she feels the same and without expecting anything back. He doesn't seek to hide or get rid of his weakness--he instead wants it to have meaning. He could hide her away from the world, and in so doing, become the mad, greedy dragon that almost killed her. Or, he can face the pain and uncertainty with surety of purpose.

I could gush about this one FOREVER, I am eternally grateful to the Sylus writers for giving us this dynamic explicitly in canon 🥹

Sylus and "femininity"

One of the most annoying "alpha male" behavior patterns to me is the constant belittling and shirking of anything perceived as "feminine"--anything that might interfere with their "tough image".

We see MC tease Sylus on this front pretty consistently, but he's never bothered by the idea of people knowing he's willing to carry her through the mall or put on a face mask or scrunch down at the movies so the kid behind him can see. Sylus knows, fundamentally, that caretaking, consideration, and other "feminine" traits are not sighs of "weakness".

Sylus knows that playing Kitty cards or wearing matching outfits or putting Mephisto in a dress doesn't make him any less powerful. And, crucially, he also knows that liking plushies or posing for photos doesn't make MC any less powerful, either. In fact, Sylus's comfort with "feminine" traits allows him to appreciate MC's inner power even more, because he doesn't see her "femininity" as taking away from her strength in the slightest.

He doesn't really care what people in the N109 Zone think of him, as long as they follow his rules. And if they don't, there will be consequences.

(Note: I put "feminine" in quotes here because while these traits are very gendered in our culture, I don't see them as being fundamentally gendered. So, to be clear, I'm not saying these traits are biologically more female or anything like that--just referencing the same social and cultural norms that the game is referencing.)

In conclusion

Sylus certainly does demonstrate a lot of alpha behavior--that is, real alpha wolf behavior like we see in Wolf 21. Unwavering bravery and unfailing strength when defending his pack, yet exercising restraint when it matters and showing playfulness during peaceful times. And also deferring to his powerful and capable mate. 🥰

This is made even more notable by the fact that we get a lot of the delicious moments usually associated with "alpha male" behavior. Someone who's dominant and takes charge, can be demanding and greedy, competent and protective, will pin you against a wall... etc... 🫦

But, critically, these moments are approached playfully through the lens of kink and power exchange, not power theft. Sylus never belittles or manipulates. He's uninterested in a dynamic where the other party can't hold their own. He has no need for peacocking because he actually has the power (not just literally, but also power of character) to go after his goals and doesn't need to rely on manipulation or posturing.

He doesn't want MC to be submissive--he wants to enjoy the power game of going toe-to-toe with her, and he wants their push-and-pull to make them both stronger.

Sylus's character gives the (accurate) sense that those other "alpha males" are just doing a poor job trying to imitate a "real" leader like Sylus, but they lack the substance necessary to become true leaders themselves.

[lisyonokk]

For the sebaciel ask:

Who would kiss who first?

What do you think made Seb initially fall for Ciel?

What do you think is one thing Ciel would change about Seb?

What sort of date do you think Seb wants to have with Ciel (excluding the final soul-eating date)? Where would they go and what would they do?

who would kiss who first

the easy answer is Sebastian bc he dgaf and doesn't have all these societal norms drilled into his brain. I don't think he would do it just randomly though. it's either life-or-death/post life-or-death or in a way where he steadily seduces ciel and he finally breaks and gives Sebastian an opportunity to do it.

however no matter how unlikely the thought of ciel randomly asking for a kiss bc he needs to 'test something' is too funny. he's like idk what is happening to me so I'm gonna study myself and my reactions to see wtf is wrong and how do I fix it. come kiss me now. (nothing is fixed ofc bc kissing Sebastian turns out to be way more pleasant and addictive than he anticipated. After the initial kiss he thinks about it for a loooong time.... and wants another 👀)

what initially made seb fall for ciel

I mean it's in the source material ig: his determination, selfishness and cunning nature. and the juxtaposition of his lighter and darker side. bc if he was truly cruel this would not be fun.

Also ciel is a kind of a spiderman (or a roach) in a way. no matter how many times he fails he always gets up and fights.

but this is what everyone knows. now let's dream for a bit. I think ciel's mannerisms and cute looks made it easier for Sebastian to fall for him. he is a cat by nature and Sebastian is obsessed with them. so maybe this resemblance played a role that maybe Sebastian isn't aware of. and he's also very beautiful and Sebastian is a lover of beautiful things.

'don't you know that an earl being pretty is like a demon being submissive? You wouldn't serve an earl just because he's pretty, but my goodness, doesn't it help?'

one thing ciel would change about sebastian

I think he would make it so Sebastian could not avoid answering his questions. bc the present contract terms still leave him a lot of room for twisting words and meanings. and sebastian does not like answering questions that somehow put him in a vulnerable position. he avoids questions about his demonic nature and history. and ciel in my head would really like to know him better.

to me ciel is not the only one with walls, Sebastian just hides them better.

Sebastian's idea of a perfect date

I mean if Sebastian could cure ciel's allergies he would do it in an instant so they can go to some cat place like a cat cafe maybe? (idc about historical accuracy) I think ciel would be annoyed at first d but seeing Sebastian so openly happy would make him go soft.

they could also go for a stargazing picnic on a very warm summer night. (idk why I just love them watching stars together) they could bring ciel's favourite deserts and Sebastian would feed him with a spoon all cute and sensual. and them ofc some under the stars kissing and fucking. (he even brought a small pillow to go under ciel's ass for his comfort)

I would also love the idea of Sebastian being able to spread his wings and take ciel for a flight. ciel would be terrified but knowing that Sebastian would def keep him safe calms him down. and the adrenaline and sense of freedom is very nice.

Sebastian, being unable to keep himself from mischief, would def let go of ciel for a couple of seconds so he freefalls and then catch him in his arms again with a slightly evil laugh. ciel would almost have a heart attack and he would scream like crazy (he would get yelled at and punished but he would have no regrets)

thank you for such great asks I had fun answering them!!! 💋💋💋💋

[mrcrunchybones]

actually working on Freefall for a change instead of just writing lore on post-its

fiddling with an idea for a datacenter complex with cache rooms that can be moved around, with bots whizzing in and out to move individual storage devices.

The rooms themselves would get carted off and plugged into wherever the data's needed by giant arms.

[idliketobeatree]

[edgarwhitmanwilde]

Source: x.com

[night-raven-tattler]

JCJXJXJXJDNDNNXJXJXJXNZNXNXNXMXKMCJCJCJS

SORRY, I'M FANGIRLING (Is that even a word?)

Tattly, I swear, I was thinking about sending this request DURING New Year's Eve, BUT MY ENTIRE CITY SPENT THE FIRST DAY COMPLETELY WITHOUT POWER 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

But if I can ask you now, tell me: in what pose do you think the twst boys sleep?

Who has the Dracula pose, who looks like they were run over and, most importantly, WHO HAS THE "POWER BOTTOM, ASS UP" POSE??

I've been completely high on coffee for 4 days, sorry about that~

-🌙

(You'll see a lot of me here, I loved the place)

Hello and happy new year, 🌙! Mx Tattly is pleased with your return. They have conducted a very elaborate investigation, with the help of some of the fellow NRT members. Hope you enjoy the findings!

Turbulent sleep or unperturbed slumber?

Characters: main NRC students cast, NRC staff, Che'nya, Neige (separate)

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The yearners/cuddlers: Deuce, Ruggie, Azul, Kalim, Trein, Neige

These are a bunch of people who yearn for warmth and affection. Either they're used to being cuddled to sleep, or they have a natural urge to grab onto something or someone and hold onto it/them until the sun comes up. Their grip is sturdy, their sleep is sound and their pillow is very likely drooled on. They're the most likely to snore, from small kitten snores to bass bosted remixes.

『••✎••』

The pristine logs: Riddle, Jack, Silver, Crewel

This is the sleep position of a person who totally has their life together (/s) and absolutely nothing is wrong with them (/s). They are totally okay with their life (/s). Even from the moment the go to bed they know how they want to wake up in the morning. The pose is unshakeable and they are statues, impossible to wake up from the outside, even with the aid of the loudest Sebek available.

『••✎••』

The space hoggers: Grim, Ace, Jade, Floyd, Crowley

Their mission is to occupy as much of the bed as possible. Either from spreading their limbs for comfort or from moving in their sleep as if they're dreaming of participating in a yoga class, they will never wake up the same way they went to bed. Their dedication to claim as much of the bed as possible no matter who else shares it could be rivaled only by the Roman Empire.

『••✎••』

The squishy limb havers: Jamil, Cater, Idia, Che'nya

These people don't fall asleep, they collapse of exhaustion on their bed after being awake for too long, only to wake up a few hours later and wonder why their new bed was the floor. Unfortunately for them, it would be hard for them to fall back asleep, as they somehow managed to get some rest in the position they powered down in. If by some miracle half of their body is still on the bed in the morning, they consider it as a win.

『••✎••』

The coffin dwellers: Trey, Vil, Rook, Ortho, Malleus, Sebek, Sam

This is another position of a perfectly normal person with absolutely no issues whatsoever (/s). This pose is not only absolutely mundane and normal (/s), but it's also efficient: it's the position that allows them to sleep the best and to wake up the fastest in the morning. They sleep (or charge) in a position worth grading, and the school should implement a scoring system that would benefit their overall grade only based on the perfect stillness and grace and total normalcy (/s) of their sleep.

『••✎••』

The freefallers: Epel, Leona, Lilia, Vargas

These people have nothing to fear, as sleeping with you butt upwards and on your stomach is a pose used to assert dominance and superiority. It shows fearlessness, because an unprotected back is a show of vulnerability. Despite the risk they subject themselves to in order to make a statement, they refuse to change their sleeping position. They prefer their freedom and the superiority complex... and the neck / back pain in the morning.

『••✎••』

[smallmariofindings]

In Paper Mario, if Mario encounters an enemy while at terminal velocity in freefall (not usually seen during regular gameplay, but possible with glitches), he will continue falling for a brief period after the battle ends, but then his gravity will reverse and he will "fall upward" until he reaches a floor, as seen in the footage.

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