#I had to hunt for this literally anywhere else...

[luciaintheskyainthi]

So, so genuinely, chapter 36 hurt me very badly (totally not bc of my current irl break-up haha who said that) and you're a wonderful, amazing, torturous author. I would've never guessed that those last Jason scenes were late additions, they flowed nicely and perfectly contrasted Peter's journey to Tim's place.

But Jason in a self-destructive spiral, sabotaging himself and his relationship, attempting to close himself off from support systems, even his internal battle with the cigarettes... truly you wound me. I love the pain.

Plus the reference to Dick's mindset at the zoo and his envy of Peter's position in Jason's life was so subtle and integrated so naturally that I assumed it was all written at the same time. You're a true wordsmith and master of your craft. I bow down to you, oh Exalted One.

😭😭😭 break-ups suck! Sorry that it happened to you! 💖

Despite the emotional whammy, thank-you for your lovely words!!! I'm very happy that you enjoyed the muse's last minute inspiration!

[suntails]

i want the vanrouges to go on a trip TOGETHER

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

What level of down bad is "Abusing your powers as an Akademiya employee to keep tabs on your crush's library loans"? Just asking for a friend.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[obsessedwithceleste]

Why Couldn’t It’ve Been Minigolf

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this request 🫶🏽 inspired by this vid

Summary: modern! au, your boyfriend is working at a haunted house, but you’d prefer to be literally anywhere else at the carnival.

word count: 1.9k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

The cool autumn air sends a shiver down your spine as you tug your jacket closer, goosebumps beginning to appear as you and your friends push your way through the crowded lanes of the fair. Your boyfriend was here somewhere, allegedly, volunteering and you and your friends had thought you’d come surprise him. The only issue now was where to find him.

“I’m starving, let’s stop at the food trucks,” Pansy decides, dragging your group towards the rows of colorful trucks offering just about every kind of carnival food imaginable.

It could all be rather suffocating really. When it came to the autumn carnival, your town spared no expense. From the glowing neon signs hanging from every stall to the aisles of carnival games that seemed to stretch on forever, it was really the place to be. Even now as Mattheo pulls you in line for his favorite booth you’re overwhelmed with all the smells. The popcorn, the melted caramel, the deep fried corn dogs, pumpkin spice.

“Want some? If you don’t have any now there’ll be none left after Theo gets his hands on it,” Mattheo says, offering you his opened bag of kettle corn.

“Oh my god, I’m honored. The last time Blaise tried to steal some of your kettle corn you damn near bit his hand off,” you joke, graciously accepting a handful of the sugar coated treat.

Once everyone is situated with their food, you continue your way through the crowds, eyes scanning the different faces for your boyfriend.

"Think he could be over at the petting zoo?" Daphne asks, gesturing to the sectioned off area of the fair where a variety of goats, sheep, even an alpaca are roaming about as kids try offering them pieces of hay that they'd picked up off the ground.

"You're only suggesting we go over there because you want to see the ponies," Pansy laughs, taking a bite of her corn dog.

"Uh yeah, who wouldn't want to see the ponies?" Daphne retorts.

Pansy raises her hand.

"C'mon, I'll go with you, we can catch up with the rest in a bit," Enzo offers, stepping between the two bickering girls, the rest of you watching in amusement.

Daphne graciously takes Enzo's arm, turning to stick her tongue out teasingly at Pans before the two disappear through the crowds.

"Alright, where do we actually think Theodore could be hiding out?" Pansy asks, turning to you. "I'd like to actually enjoy the carnival a bit outside of hunting down Theo."

Fair enough.

"Well, we haven't checked the corn maze, glow-in-the-dark minigolf, I think there are bumper carts around here somewhere," you list off, checking off each attraction on your fingers.

"The haunted house," Mattheo adds.

You feel yourself deflate at the mention of the haunted house. You'd really been hoping they'd forget about it, but of course it would be top of Matt's mind, he loved that type of thing.

"Alright well, I'm not navigating through farmer's purgatory with you lot, even if it's to find Theo, so you can take the corn maze off the list," Draco declares.

Not that anyone was really going to complain about that.

“I personally think we should go to the haunted house first,” Mattheo says, continuing to chow down on his kettle corn, pieces spewing from his mouth as he speaks.

You recoil away from the boy.

“Of course you would want to go there first,” you sigh, lip curling at the thought.

You’d never understood the appeal of having the shit scared out of you on purpose. Haunted houses, horror movies had never been entirely your cup of tea, but you always seemed to be dragged along by your friends.

“Alternatively, you guys can go search the haunted house, Blaise and I will go check out the bumper cars,” Draco interjects, looking rather weezy at the idea of the haunted house.

He’d never had much of a stomach for all the horror thrills either.

“Coward,” Pansy mutters under a poorly executed, feigned cough.

Draco makes a face at the girl.

“Let him go Pans, wouldn’t want him to wet his pants again would we?” Matt jeers. You give him a sharp jab with your elbow. “Ow!” Mattheo frowns at you, rubbing his side.

“Be nice.”

“I was seven,” Draco grumbles as he turns to slink off.

“Oh look what you’ve done, now he’s upset,” you sigh, glaring at your curly haired friend.

Mattheo just shrugs, looking completely unbothered as he tosses another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Fine, whatever, now that you two have managed to run everyone else off, we might as well get the haunted house over and done with,” you say with exasperation when the other two remain completely unfazed.

Sometimes you thought those two really deserved each other.

The three of you make your way towards the haunted house attraction and you ruefully eye the minigolf course as your little group bustles by. Maybe it wasn't too late to convince your friends to go there instead.

Tragically for you however, Mattheo and Pansy manage to drag you to the queue of the haunted house before you're able to get a word in edgewise.

Standing in line, you feel your palms begin to sweat already, the nerves really beginning to settle in. The line is going much too fast for your liking, you haven't gotten the proper chance to emotionally prepare yourself as your feet shuffle forward. It's not until the skeletons at the entrance jump out at you and you feel yourself jolt back into Pansy that you're sure this is a horrible idea.

"Come on now, don't back out on us now," Mattheo laughs, prodding you forward. "I heard they made it even scarier than last year," he says giddily.

Why were you friends with this lunatic?

“Sign here,” one of the attendants orders gruffly, directing your eyes to a slip of paper sitting on the counter in front of you.

Against your better judgment, you scribble your name in the dotted line, not even bothering to read whatever the hell you had just signed.

“Relax, it’s just saying you won’t sue if you get scared and trip and fall or something. It shouldn’t even be that bad. The actors can’t touch you or anything,” Pansy says, trying to reassure you as you’re ushered through the next door. It doesn’t work.

It’s not long before the regret sinks in. It’s rather immediate actually. Instant regret.

It’s dark and cold and the first room is covered in bones, fake blood, the works. Strobe lights flash, disorienting you until you can’t tell the mannequins from the live actors and you can feel yourself begin to shake as you’re not sure what’s about to jump out at you next.

With each room, you draw closer and closer to Pansy until you’re finally grabbing at her arm, your grip so tight it leaves indents on her pale skin.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she laughs. “Look. You can clearly see where that actor’s mask was supposed to be tucked into their shirt. Amateur,” she snorts, pointing at the guy with a spinning chainsaw that had been practically breathing down your neck a moment earlier.

Your friend was a psychopath, you decided then and there.

As you continue on through the trenches, you find yourself jumping and screeching at every turn while Pansy and Mattheo look as if they’re just taking a friendly stroll through the park. You swear you even see one of the scare actors jump a little when Mattheo yells back at them, his eyes crossing and tongue hanging out of his mouth. And then your soul immediately leaves your body once more as you realize a murderous clown had snuck up on you while you were distracted.

It could not be too soon when you finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. The light being the exit sign of course.

As you make your way towards it, you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. It all happens so fast. One moment you think you’re finally free, the next you watch in horrified fascination as a scare actor charges toward you, dipping into a swooping, slide that stops just short of your feet before smoothly standing back up, letting out an ear piercing scream just inches away from your face.

They’re screaming, you’re screaming, you can’t tell where your scream starts and their scream ends, and Mattheo is standing to the side laughing his ass off.

At this point you’re practically using Pansy as a human shield when the scare actor suddenly stops and peaks over Pansy’s shoulder at you. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but you would know that mischievous smirk anywhere.

“I’m going to kill you!” You screech, lunging at your boyfriend.

Theo and Matt are both laughing now as Pansy catches you just in time, holding you back as you try and grab at Theo.

“Easy there, you can give him a piece of your mind later,” she says, trying to keep things somewhat under control.

But you were having none of it. These two assholes, Theo and Matt that is, had been plotting against you this entire time. Mattheo sharing his popcorn had probably just been a way to lull you into a false sense of security. You glare at the pair who now at least have the decency to collect themselves as you shove past them.

“I knew we should have just gone to the minigolf course,” you mutter as you sulk out of the haunted house, trying to look as pathetic as possible in hopes of making Theo and Matt feel particularly guilty.

It doesn’t work on Mattheo who happily follows you outside, but you can tell by the way Theo’s eyes are glued to you, lips turned ever so slightly into a pout that you have that boy wrapped around your finger.

It had only gotten colder, the sun just dipping below the horizon when Theo finally catches up with the rest of you. You can still see remnants of his white face paint stained across his face as he wraps his arms around you.

"You didn't tell me you were volunteering as a scare actor," you accuse as your arms snake around your boyfriend. “Think that information would’ve been nice to have ya asshole.”

"We were just joking with you, I didn't think you'd actually be that terrified," Theo replies, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"You know how I feel about haunted houses," you try to protest.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry carissima. Let me make it up to you?"

“Mmm I can think of a couple ways you could do that,” you reply, a grin slowly spreading across your face as you look up at your boyfriend.

“Hey! Are we playing minigolf or what?” Mattheo calls out, tossing Theo one of the dinky little clubs which he catches with ease.

“Watch your back Riddle, I’m not done with you,” you respond, grabbing your own club and plucking one of the glowing golf balls off the rack. “You’re not gonna know what hit you.”

You see Mattheo gulp as you brush past him to join Pansy.

“They’re talking figuratively right mate? They wouldn’t actually hit me with a golf club,” you hear him mutter to Theo.

Your boyfriend just laughs.

“You’re on your own for this one Matt, I’d like to keep my head thanks.”

I do so love a good out of season prompt🤭

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[glowplumes]

Mr. Sylus and His Friend

I've been thinking a lot about Sylus and his damn eye, and how that poor loser would cope with knowing exactly what's going on in your horny ass mind. Cannot believe this is my first post!! MDNI!!!

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentioned (light?) choking, MC is down astronomically buy Sylus is SOOO much worse, suggested P in V, suggested marathon sex, mind reading, no actual smut... but maybe their should be???

This shit is so boring. 

Your eyes glaze over as the auctioneer continues to prattle on about the next item that was up for sale. It wasn’t one of the modified Protocores you were after, and it wouldn’t be up until much later in the evening- that’s how you end up mentally checked out, wishing to be anywhere but this stuffy ass venue.

To make matters worse, you’re horny. Like, ridiculously worked up. And, right hand on the bible, it wasn’t even your fault. Sylus had spent the entire car ride kissing you senseless, pawing at you and pleading with you, only to abruptly withdraw his hands and expertly reapply the makeup he’d so dutifully smudged. 

“Perfect. Now the pretty kitty is ready to hunt for something shiny,” are the last words he spoke to you before the auction began.

Needless to say, you were absolutely fucked.

Rather than the Protocore, the only thing on your mind was the infuriatingly beautiful man next to you, sitting there with his infuriatingly large biceps. God, what you wouldn’t give for him to wrap one of those monstrosities around your neck as he fu-

“Sweetie, we can leave now if you’re… bored,” Sylus says, his voice low and slightly strained.

You raise an eyebrow as you look at him, trying to understand why the leader of Onychinus was suddenly so tense.

“What? No, we haven’t gotten what we came for yet,” you say back, giving him a once over. His leg is bouncing erratically under the table, and while you’re mildly concerned, you can only hope that when you got home, he’d let you bounce on him like that-

“I can have someone else take care of it,” he says through grit teeth. What the hell was his deal? He’d made a big fuss about coming all the way out here, and now he wants to leave before he even gets what he wants?

“Sylus, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting all skittish,” you whisper back, making eye contact with him once more. His jaw tightens, and you have to fight the urge to curse under your breath. 

You were supposed to be listening for the answer to the question you literally just asked, but instead, you were wondering if his jaw would look like that if he had you spread out on his desk, open and ready for him to-

Sylus inhales sharply, and you’re pulled out of your reverie.

“It’s nothing, sweetie. Nothing I can’t fix later,” he says roughly, rolling his neck before turning slightly in his seat, facing the auctioneer once more. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes.

God, you were a mess, and seeing Sylus so… on edge wasn’t helping either. The rational part of your brain, though rapidly dissipating, was still concerned for Sylus. He was usually so confident, self-assured- a far cry from the man sitting next to you on tenterhooks, lacking all of his typical cool composure.

“Are you sure? I’ll admit, I’m a little worried about you,” you murmur, placing your hand on the space between his shoulder blades.

He tenses yet again, but before he can get a word out, the auctioneer finally brings out the piece the two of you have been waiting for. 

You have no idea that he knows you’re fighting the urge to jump him right at the table, which in turn has him trying to decide if it’s worth it to straight up blast a hole in the wall just to get you home faster.

And he’s conflicted because? Does he tell you what he knows? Does he wait for you to bring it up? He should be paying attention, should be focusing on the goods, but his brain short circuited the moment his eye showed him a very vivid image of you laid out like a feast while his cock made itself at home between your thighs.

In the end, he leaves the decision in your hands since intimacy is still such a new thing for the two of you.

It’s not until you’ve come for the sixth time that evening that you realize he’s been very carefully recreating your own fantasies all night. :) 

[adams-angels]

Adam sfw/nsfw hcs? I love your work! Thanks!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

SFW

I'm gonna start off strong by saying socks and sandals. Thinks it's great.

Will stop listening when he's losing an argument. Stutters and minces up his words if he gets flustered or too aggravated.

Lute is his best friend

Says he has tons on friend but in reality lute is his only friend

This man thinks he's higher up in the food chain than he actually is. Which then leads to weak apologies from him

Doesn't go anywhere without his mask. Really big believer in that he doesn't like showing his face because both his wife's left him

Still absolutely bitter about that btw

Has an unhealthy coping mechanism when it comes to jealously.

For example, your an angel and some newbie starts talking with you and there's nothing really in it but he opens a portal to hell when your not looking and literally kicks the guy through it before closing the portal.

Or if your a sinner and you're telling him about someone who helped you the other day he will HUNT THEM DOWN next extermination day... If he can wait that long.

Likes getting you lil gifts, key chains, magnets, pins. He'll see a little thing and think that's perfect and wont hesitate buying it for you.

He won't give it to you though. He'll leave it somewhere obvious in his apartment for you to notice and go "oh, that's cute." For him to shrug and say "it's okay. You want it?" It took a while before you actually started accepting gifts this way

In public he will get you the biggest things. Giant teddy bear. New TV. A unicorn. But that's just to show everyone that he spoils you. That no one can treat you as well as him.

Loves lazy days

Also loves it when you preen his wings

Was the kinda guy that didn't have any kind of skin care until he met you and now you're both chilling with facemasks on.

Has panic attacks when he thinks you're going to leave him

When he's not wearing his mask he will not smile. It's really difficult to get him to smile or laugh when he's not wearing a mask.

But he's got the most beautiful smile

You managed you get him to laugh because you fell. What? He's still an asshole.

You couldn't be mad at him. He sounded so happy.

Has dumb pet names for everyone he's close to. Some are cute. Some are absolutely vulger. "Sweetness." "Babe." "Cutie" "cockwarmer." "Adam's dumpster." "Precious."

He's insecure AF baby

Loves hearing you say you love him

Will only tell you he loves you in private.

Would take a very special case for him to say it in public

If you get in a serious argument with him he'll run away in anger. He'll then come back after an hour or so begging you not to leave.

Sorry I really love pathetic Adam. fight me.

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

NSFW

Ik everyone says it's great at sex but I don't think he would be 🤷🏻‍♀️ not at the beginning anyway

I think he's a selfish lover and it takes someone he really cares about to make any changes

Would absolutely finish inside you then fall asleep soz babes

His cock is good tho. Likes it's a biggen. Length and width.

It was probably made to fit perfectly so

At least that's what he says

He won't believe it if you dont orgasm the first time you have sex with him. Everyone else has! Why wouldn't you?!

Well, Adam, they lied, sweetie.

Loves getting his cock sucked.

Asks for it constantly

If he gets in an argument with you he'll probably say "I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I got head."

He loves eating you out. Watching you squirm while his tongue is inside you really gets him going.

Likes you have you sat on his face so he can hold you down

He cried the first time he had sex with you after realising he loves you

Will beg to be loved when he's close to finishing. "Tell me you love me!"

Will get embarrassed after the fact

He was adamant he didn't like you. That you were just hot. But one day found himself jerking to the thought of you and that post nut clarity hit like a freight train.

Loves being praised ofc

Breeding kink. I mean come on. He was made to populate the earth. It was literally his job.

Loves rough sex, being in charge.

Will get possessive during sex

If he's having a bad day he'll be a lot more desperate and a hell of a lot more possessive

"mine" is his favourite word.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[shaysplanet]

about caldara— 490 A.B.

above is a general map that i made of my continent. give or take some details because i didn’t want it to get too cluttered oops. hopefully it serves as a good visual for my explanations of each region and its key city! anywho longgg ass post incoming!

NYSSAROS is the capital of the continent and crown jewel of house vangaros. it sits in the flatter heartland of eryndor which is the largest region on the continent. it is important to note that nyssaros is located where its most strategic but not where it is most safe. it’s connected to many borders but difficult to access or pass through all willy nilly. the capital sits where we, as the crown family, can see everything, steal anything and escape anything. it’s a very active city. as for looks, the whole city glitters and dazzles you in a way you can only dream. polished gold inlay is worked into the streets themselves. buildings are structured in tiers, with the higher you go, the closer you get to nobility. spires and domes dominate the skyline, crafted in a blend of obsidian, marble, and goldenstone. balconies overflow with vines and flowers, braziers line every street, and the palace is built directly atop a shallow rise. my family has held nyssaros for nearly 500 years, since the first raqiros dova established the capital post-binding. no one’s ever challenged our right to it either. we built this city.

TALVARIS is a wild thing. it’s overgrown and very old. clinging to the base of the veil peaks, where stone meets trunks of trees and dragons still pass overhead. the architecture here blends right into the land. houses are carved into cliffsides or built around massive trees, with rope bridges and winding stone steps acting as public paths. it’s governed by three houses: maroveth, vangaros, and rhadanis, each with their own domain within the city. the oldest temple, dedicated to the first flame, rests in the rhadanis-controlled quarter. maroveth’s section is known for its mineral forges and glasswork studios, while vangaros oversees the watchtowers and sky bridges. it’s one of the few cities where control is shared and not tested.

RAVENA, in the north of vysara, is unlike anywhere else in caldara. it’s built on stilts above the marshes, and its waterways are its roads. instead of streets, there are canals and bridges. houses here are tall and narrow, often with open lower levels to avoid flooding, and their rooftops are tiered like the petals of a lotus flower. it’s a holy city, controlled solely by house rhadanis for the last six centuries, and is home to the oracle temples and the drowned archives. you can only imagine how well secrets flow through this place.

ILLORIA is just off the mainland on the island of wynsereth and it’s considered the most serene (and slow moving) of all the major cities. the buildings are sculpted from pale stone and dark wood, with gilded lattices and canopies. every home and hall has a garden or water feature, and the roads are quiet, winding, and lined with flowering trees. house davenar has ruled here for over 600 years—similar to rhadanis with ravena. they’re the old money, old faith, old legacy of this world. while rhadanis may be known as the “first” of the great houses, davenar is the reason “great” even had to be listed to begin with. illorian trees have the sweetest fruits and the richest soils. when nobles retire or retreat, they come here. and—as a bonus—the surrounding lands of wynsereth are literally known as “the golden forests” due to the sheer abundance of gold and other precious metals found here. it’s truly a testament to davenar’s respect that the lands haven’t been excavated into oblivion yet.

THALORN is a forge city built in a goddamn caldera. the region of valdorra is volcanic, and thalorn was carved out of what remained after one of the last great eruptions. tunnels run beneath the city, used to avoid dragons since valdorra is their primary hunting grounds. it’s hot, always, and that’s saying a lot considering caldara is a continent of eternal summer pretty much. but caldarans are smart and not easily deterred! the stone buildings are vented and hollow, built to withstand intense heat. black glass, copper tiles, and a smidgen of smoke stained gold give thalorn its iconic look. house maroveth controls the region and has for about 200 years, ever since the last ruling line died out in a lavaflow (oops).

RHALENMOOR is the capital of house venakar, and it shows. it’s built in the fertile yet drier plains of nysara. the golden fields stretch in every direction and the city rises out of the land like a fortress of lush abundance. clay brick walls, green domed halls, and sprawling market squares aplenty. there’s irrigation channels that double as ritual spaces, and the storage houses are adorned with carvings that honor seed and harvest. venakar’s had it for multiple generations and they don’t share well. anyone who wants to eat in caldara knows to stay in venakar’s good graces. while a relatively young house, they’re surprisingly nifty—and ambitious which could read badly for house rhadanis whom shares territory with them.

AVENTHAL is a fortress first, city second. it belongs to house tharavos, who took control after a royal decree roughly 180 years ago. it used to be a torvane port, but was deemed too inland and got reassigned. it’s all stone and steel��walls within walls, like an inescapable maze. the streets are tight, but the surveillance is tighter. there are more whisperers here per capita than anywhere else in caldara because aventhal is where they train before they’re sent off to other regions. regular ole people live here, yes, but house tharavos has a thing about orphans. and there’s an abnormally high rate of orphans that end up in aventhal than anywhere else… they gotta find someway to survive, right? so they get really good at two things: hide and listen. just to then line their pockets with tharavos gold. that’s how aventhal became a city that never sleeps, but stalks.

KHALMAR, in othalar, is carved directly into the mountain. it looks impenetrable because it is. built like a vertical city, its homes and barracks cling to stone cliffs, connected by narrow staircases, lifts, and winding tunnels. valdryn has ruled here for over 300 years, ever since they won the southern wars and claimed it as their prize. firelight glows from within the rock faces at night, and the forges never go cold. it’s a warrior city, plain and simple. also the hub of many of our military operations. the region is directly under valdorra which makes for easy access to dragons and luckily (or unluckily, depending on which house you’re in) valdryn has an abundance of dragon power thanks to the events that took place in 340 A.B. they’ve accumulated six dragons despite not being an original bloodline to claim them. some whispers say house valdryn one day plans to overthrow vangaros and claim nyssaros for themselves…

VELMARRA is house torvane’s sea-wrapped gem. it curves around the coast like a blade, with harbor spires that double as storm towers. it’s not just a port—it’s a city raised against the deep. every structure is built to bend with the wind: narrow towers reinforced with stone that’s stood the test of time and obsidian anchors that moor the city to the earth itself. the buildings gleam in blues, pewter, and pale gold which is the one similarity velmarra shares with the rest of the great cities. sea monsters are carved into the walls like warnings, while prayers against drowning can be found in all of the temples. torvane has overseen velmarra longer than any other house has ruled a city singlehandedly. it has been their sworn duty since the beginning of, perhaps, time itself. they don’t just run trade. they guard caldara from what moves in the water: horrors only born from the tide like leviathans and sea wraiths that destroy ships without a second thought. without torvane, the southern coastline would be chaos. every storm is a test, especially in the harsher months, and every return to port is a small war won. every street leads to the sea. even the fishers carry knives. velmarra isn’t gentle. it’s not a beach town overlooking a calm ocean. it’s a siren’s song that drags you into your own blissful death.

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Triggers: obsessive/toxic Azriel, indications of sex (but not explicit), blood, familial and character death, self-hurt

Summary: Azriel never thought he would become obsessed with anything. He was the stoic and cold Spymaster of Night Court. For centuries he never had anyone grow close to him — not until you, his mate. However, something lurks underneath those bright-colored eyes, and for Azriel… he couldn’t be anywhere else but near you.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this! It took a bit to understand the song and its musicality, but I was able to hopefully reach something that would tug the heartstrings but also have the same feeling as the song — Azriel falling for the reader, being addicted, and… Well, continue to find out. Also, I wanted it to be a Dark!Azriel, but I’m not sure if he is as dark as people may interpret, do let me know what you think of this! I wanted this to mimic “Notions of Devotion” but with a darker twist, basing it off the prequel chapters of “Secret Lady”. And also, an AU of my Seer!Reader! 👀👀👀

Temptation is such a fickle thing.

Before you even stepped through those grand doors, Azriel smelt you — that familiar aroma of jasmine and sage wafted through those doors. He was already addicted before even seeing you. He felt his shadows vibrate and shuffle underneath his feet, too excited to bask in your presence and your light.

And when you stepped through those doors, it was as if the Gods and Mother above had graced you in his presence.

You were beautiful.

You were a literal ray of sunshine as if the clouds above parted and you descended from the Havens. He watched as your skirts fluttered beneath you, the white gown — embedded with sparkles of silver and stars — made you ethereal, a Goddess walking in mortal lands.

He had heard of you through his shadows — a Seer within Prythian’s borders.

The first known Seer in millennials.

The Seer that the High Lord of Day Court had kept secret for centuries — the rumored daughter figure of High Lord Helion.

The whispers of your power were not foreign in Night Court. You had used your powers of foresight to bring forth change throughout all of Prythian — you had used your powers for the greater good — all the while keeping your identity a secret.

Azriel had only heard of your name — (Y/N). The whispers of your name and beauty from Day Court spread like wildfire throughout Prythian and many had wanted to meet you, even glance your way to see your beauty.

Even Azriel had grown curious.

When he was sent as an emissary along with Mor to Day Court soil, he hoped and wished to see you pass by. Your aroma of jasmine and sage echoed throughout all the halls he walked through, his shadows scurrying around hoping to find the source of such captivating fragrance.

But he never got even a glance at you.

He had heard the light shuffling of feet, every time he passed a hallway or a room, his head perking up at the scent of you. Every time he felt your presence, heard your feet, smelled you, he scent his shadows on a hunt — to find you, to bring you to him.

He was already addicted — all he wanted was you near him, to bask in your scent and presence.

But every time his shadows came back, it was for naught. He watched them whisper that they couldn’t find you — that as if by magic, you would vanish in midair. Azriel didn’t know if you were avoiding him… but you had no reason to — there was no connection between the two of you, no reason for you to avoid him.

Azriel had grown frustrated at that thought — you were a temptation. You filled his thoughts every waking moment for days on end while he was at Day Court; and even when he arrived back to Night Court, your lingering scent stained his clothes to the point he almost burned them to rid the thought of you. But in the end, he couldn’t.

It would erase everything he had felt for you — of that he yearned for you. That his whole time in Day Court was nothing but a fleeting hallucination, that you would become nothing but a lucid dream.

And it felt like you were nothing but that.

He would lie at night, dreaming of you — you haunted him, awake and asleep. Azriel could reach out and grasp you, hold you close to him — he could practically taste you, but every time he thought he would be able to see your face in his dreams, he would awake — as if the Gods tried to stop him from knowing you completely.

And so when he heard that you would be coming to Night Court as an emissary from Day, his heart picked up a beat at the thought of you again.

Azriel felt the tap against his mental shields that shook him from his thoughts. Hazel hues glanced at his High Lord, seeing that playful smirk that tugged on his lips and he heard the snicker from the General.

“Oh shut it, the both of you…” he hissed in his head at them before he straightened his composure, focusing back on you and the two guards that flanked your side from Day Court.

You were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. His thoughts of how you could have looked never matched the beauty that you radiated as you walked towards the dias where the Inner Court had sat.

You elegantly bowed in front of his High Lord and Lady, and he just watched you — mesmerized by every little action that you did. He watched you straighten up, fixing your locks behind your ears and over your shoulders; he watched those delicate hands fiddle with each other in nervousness that you couldn’t help but emit.

It was so adorable and endearing on how you looked.

He was absolutely in love with you already.

And when you looked towards his way, your eyes staring into his own hazel — he felt his chest burst with color. His usual world of black and white beamed with color he never thought he would see. His chest warmed, ached, and called out to you — he felt that golden string that he only heard of from his brothers — one that tied your soul to his.

Azriel stumbled backward, clutching his leathers at his chest, his breath taken away from him. He heard your gasp — it was such a lovely sound — as he watched from the corner of his eyes, you stumbling as well, the guards holding your shoulders to stead you, all the while his High Lord and Cassian rushed to his side.

“What happened, Azriel?” his High Lord asked him — commanded him.

Despite the command rushing through his body, his mind rejected it, all his focus on you and those hands on your shoulders. The sight of other hands besides his own, made Azriel feel territorial. He felt the bond in his chest vibrate in anger, and his shadows swirl around him, waiting for their master to let them loose to attack. He let them loose, watching those tendrils of darkness whisk forward to wrap around your pure form, watching them slither up your legs, up your arms, pushing those hands away from you.

The sight of his shadows, his darkness, curling around your form made the bond sing, and a dark satisfaction curled around his heart.

All he wanted to do was cover you in his darkness, making you all his.

He watched as you looked at those shadows before your gaze shifted to his own once again. His body thrummed with happiness and satisfaction as you looked at him with wide eyes, and the only thing that slipped from his lips was:

“Mate."

“How do I look, Azriel?”

He watched those eyes beam up at him, cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink, and his ears perking up at the laugh that escaped your lips as he placed the flower crown on top of your head.

His heart rattled in his chest at the way you looked up at him. How your eyes sparkled with happiness and how your laugh was so pure and unabashed. You glowed with so much pureness and happiness, that all he hoped was that he could be the only person that could make you feel like this.

“Stunning,” he affirmed, his words blowing with the wind, “I picked them in particular because I knew they would suit you well…”

Hazel hues watched your features absorb his words for a moment, eyes shifting before looking back up at his own — eyes wide and bright staring up at him — unguarded and so vulnerable. He felt the bond sing… but a darker voice resonated behind that elation — how beautiful would it be to have everything about you just be his. To watch your pureness, your light, your beauty be drowned in his shadows… in his darkness.

“Yes…” he whispered, leaning into your features, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, sliding slightly so that the tips of his fingers grazed the base of your neck, his other hand coming up to gently wrap around your waist, tugging you closer, “Look at me, just like that…”

Azriel brought your face closer to his own, your scent overwhelming his senses — how addicted he was to your smell and he couldn’t help but wonder if you tasted delicious as well as you smelled. Hazel hues watched that baby pink shade turn darker on your cheeks and his heart swelled with pride.

“Keep looking at me just like you are, (Y/N). Is it too selfish for me to ask you, to just look at me… and only me?”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your own and he was right — you tasted divine. His lips moved against yours, and he felt your hesitance in the kiss, your hands hovering over his chest, a feeble attempt to push him away. He gently bit your lower lip, feeling you gasp against his lips and he delved in, tasting your mouth to his heart’s content. Azriel brought you closer to him, feeling you slump against his form before gently bringing you down to the soft grass underneath both of your feet.

Azriel pulled away from the kiss, his large form hovering over your own. He watched as your chest heaved, those lips parted in a gentle ‘o’ shape, dark red from his kiss. You looked ravished, not so pure anymore — and it made his body pulse. He felt his shadows, swirl around you, clinging onto the strands of hair that spread around your pretty head, onto your shoulders and upper arms; he watched them move over your dress, tugging onto fabric until they loosened over your body.

His eyes darkened, watching inches of skin be revealed to him and you having no attempt to cover up or hide from him. A coo escaped his lips as he leaned down once again, lips attaching themselves to the crook of your neck as he felt your hands slide up his arms to cradle his head against you.

“Why would I look at anyone else, Azriel?” you mused, your voice out of breath, “When you are my mate? When the first time I saw you, you already filled my world with so much hope and light…”

Azriel felt himself growl, his kisses becoming more and more desperate against your skin. Teeth scraped against flesh and hands grasped at anything that was you. Your gasps and moans filled his ears, and he felt the darkness in his heart grow more and more.

He wanted to cover you in him, cover you in that darkness that grew inside of him. He wanted your light that radiated from your soul to darken, to taint it with his essence.

It was funny indeed — how you saw him with such pureness in your eyes, in your heart, in your soul. When in all reality, he was the opposite of that.

He was dark — there was nothing pure about him.

Not when it came to you.

Drip… Drip… drip

Azriel ran his blood-stained hands through dark tussled locks, as he stepped into the foyer of the River House. Dark red blood stained the marble floors of the home, dripping down from his leathers, the undeniable squish from underneath his boots.

He tilted his head up, staring at the night-kissed ceiling — a painting done by his High Lady’s hands.

I’m tired.

He pondered as he continued to walk the quiet halls of the house, all too quiet except for the thump of his blood-covered boots. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, hazel hues stared at his hands — one maimed and disfigured, one that was covered in blood. Azriel felt like it seeped into his very skin, touching his very soul. A frown tugged onto his features as he wiped it on the marble railing of the stairs, watching it streak — tainting the white color with red.

Azriel had just come back from his interrogation from Hewn City, his High Lord requested it. They needed information on the looming threat of the Deathless God.

You had been the one to warn about the threat — your powers taking over you to give the prophesized vision of the God in the Lake. All of Prythian took heed of such words that slipped your lips.

He had become busy, more busy as of late, to the point he rarely saw you.

He missed you. Missed the way you looked up at him with such adoration, with such love; missed the way you would feel underneath him; missed the sound of your voice — your gasps, your moans, your laugh.

Azriel blinked hazily when a shadow ran from underneath his grasp and up the stairs. Hazel hues watched that shadow, before noticing a figure on top of the stairs.

He blinked again, adjusting his eyes to the light before seeing that it was you.

However… it wasn’t you.

Those hues weren’t the ones that he loved. They were light, almost white… Unfamiliar… yet familiar at the same time. You looked at him, but one without the familiar feeling of love; you stared at him, as if staring into his soul.

Your powers had taken over you again.

Azriel walked up those steps, towards you, and once he was in front of you he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, the blood that stained his leathers seeping into your pure white clothes. That dark feeling inside him grew once again, seeing such imagery… the pure you, being tainted by him.

He looked into your power-filled eyes, watching them unblinking up at him. A sigh escaped his lips as he lifted you into his arms, your body light as a feather and he continued his path to your shared bedroom.

Stepping beyond the threshold of those grand doors, he kicked them shut and laid you down on the massive bed, pressing himself closer to your form. He did not care that the blood continued to taint your clear skin, he wanted more.

He stained your thighs, your arms, your chest with red, his shadows slipping off your, now, red slip. He brought your hand to his face, pressing blood-stained lips onto the palm of your hand before his fingers drew an eye on the back of your hand — a sign he always drew when you were like this.

An omen, hoping to call the real you back to him.

A giggle escaped your lips, as you took your hand back, head tilting at the image that he drew. A knowing smile tugged on your lips as you leaned up toward Azriel.

“You seem nervous, Shadowsinger…”

Azriel fought back a shudder — it was your voice, but also not your own. Your powers had taken you — mind and body. Your power echoing through your voice, one so ancient and one so powerful, it resonated in the air, all-powerful and all-knowing.

This wasn’t the first time that your power had overtaken you.

The first time was your divine prediction of the Deathless God’s return.

It was a day Azriel could never forget.

He had thought he had lost you to your power, thought that you would never return to being you again. He watched as you writhed in pain, sweat dripping down your forehead and onto the sheets. You were sick with a fever days before that moment, and Azriel had thought you were having a fever dream. But when your eyes opened, and unfamiliar white hues stared at him — he knew it wasn’t a fever dream.

The Bird of Ash and Fire, flying over the dark lake. Power resonating… The Cauldron calling to its like. He will rise and plunder Prythian to destruction. Fire and shadow submerge all of the light.

Fingers touched his face, bringing him out of his thoughts as hazel eyes focused back down at you, that knowing smile still on your features.

“There is another prophecy… you have yet to hear, my dearest Shadowsinger… One that concerns your dearest sons that your wife has borne.”

Brows scrunched on his features, as he pulled away from your body — the first time he has done that. Hazel eyes locked onto omnipotent ones, “What are you talking about, seer…”

Azriel never called your name when you were in this state… he never thought this was you.

This was the all-seeing Seer of Prythian.

This was not his mate, not his wife.

That knowing smile tugged wider as you slid your fingers over his eye, covering it with your palm — as if to blind him from the truth that you were to spill.

“Our sons will, in the near future, rip their own mother to shreds…”

Hazel eyes widened, continuing to stare down at you. A laugh escaped your chest, echoing into the still room.

“Are you afraid, Shadowsinger? Are you afraid that your mate will despise you? You have a choice now…

“Will you follow fate’s string, abide by the course of nature set by the Cauldron and the Mother above, and allow your mate to be brutally die at the hands of your son?”

He watched you lean up, pressing your palm further into his eye before he reached up and grabbed your wrist and pull it away, fingers digging into tender flesh to the point it would bruise.

“Or… will you wish upon the powers of your mate, the Seer… to kill your sons?

“Will you be willing… to kill your kin, one that you had wanted so much to the point you pushed your mate’s body to the brink of breaking. Or do you dare change your mate’s destiny of death?”

Azriel watched as tears cascade down your cheeks, your hues slowly hinting back to their normal color — that your powers were slowly leaving your body alone.

“Even if you are at the end of your wife’s wrath for it?”

The preeminent voice left you and the whimper of his name slipped your lips.

A coo escaped his lips, leaning back down to press his lips against your own, hushing you from your cries. When he pulled away, he watched as your eyes return to your own, staring up at him — tears continued to streak down your cheeks.

“—-Don’t… Azriel… Please —- Not our sons…” you muttered, begged your husband not to listen to your vision.

He pressed another kiss, taking your breath away from you. He felt you relax underneath him, your hands slipping from his hold and back onto the bed, the tension in your body slowly slipping away.

“—- Father…”

He glanced up from the kiss, seeing his two sons — Rhysar and Rian at the threshold of the bedroom. Azriel pulled away from the kiss, glancing back down at you, the even breathing indicating that you had fallen asleep — it happened every time your powers left your body.

Your words echoed in his ears — he had to choose.

The family that he grew with you… his pride and joy — his sons.

Or the love of his life… his mate — you.

He had heard the whispers from his sons, his eldest especially — the ungratefulness that spewed from their lips. That their mother, despite being a Seer, was from unknown origins and that their father was a bastard Illyrian from the depths of war camps.

He did not care about the hatred that spewed from their lips — but to utter ungratefulness about their mother who bore them... Who almost died to bring them into the world.

Azriel would not tolerate that.

Not when you were everything to him.

With one last glance at your sleeping form, he slowly moved away from you, slipping out of the bed as eyes stared at his sons — hazel hues dulling from his decision.

He will choose you all the time.

Even if it meant killing his own flesh and blood.

Azriel stalked towards them, his large figure overpowering the two of them. His shadows whisked out from his own, darting towards them as they turned and attempted to run — their screams filling the hallways.

A frown tugged on his lips, as he closed the door behind him, attempting to silence the screams from reaching your ears. He stayed still, guarding those doors to the bedroom, allowing his shadows to zip through the halls — to bring his sons back.

The scrambling of feet echoed through the hallways, their terrified screams echoing all around him. He knew that the rest of his family would hear it, and would attempt to stop him from taking his sons’ life — he couldn’t let that happen.

Not when your own life was hanging by a string.

His shadows dispersed, blanketing the River House, locking each door, and preventing anyone from leaving their rooms.

He could hear it — the frantic yells of his family, the confusion in their voices at what was happening.

"Azriel what is going on? Why are your shadows everywhere? "

The Spymaster took no need of his High Lord's questions as he silently waited for his shadows to drag his sons back. He placed a dark wall up in his mind, casting aside Rhysand’s questions and even his High Lady’s frantic pleas.

He didn’t need distractions — not when he had a goal in mind.

The screams and cries of his sons grew louder as he watched the spindle of shadows drag them back by their ankles. Hazel eyes looked down his nose at them, watching them shake and plead up to him — his very image staring back up at him.

Azriel never realized on how much his sons took after him, not a tall tell sign of his wife’s features in either of them. And it disgusted him. How can something like that come out of something so pure like you? He couldn’t understand. The only thing that was remotely you was in your second son, Rian — his eyes sparkled the same hue as yours.

Truth-Teller materialized in his hand, and he raised it to the dim lighting, watching it shine, eyes staring at the glint of his dagger before back down at his oldest son.

Without a second thought, the dagger stroked down.

The screams never ended, and Azriel’s skin dripped with blood once again.

“She hasn’t eaten or slept in days — anything she happens to swallow, she always throws it back up. Her condition is deteriorating, Azriel…

“What have you done?”

The Spymaster stepped into the vast room, the quiet sobs echoing through reverend walls. Hazel eyes trained on you as you pressed yourself against the stone casket of Rhysar, mourning over his death. His step echoed as he made his way towards you and he heard your sobbing stop as you looked over your shoulder, and up at him.

His heart tugged a tiny bit, your hallowed cheeks, dark circles underneath your eyes. You were exhausted, the death of your eldest son taking a toll on your mind and health.

Azriel attempted to tug at the golden string that connected the two of you; however, he only felt the hallow feeling on the other side, your heart slowly encompassed by shadow and darkness.

His mind knew he shouldn’t — but he felt pride seeing his mate look so haggard. His sick mind knew that no matter what, you would always look back for him — that your fates have always been intertwined.

“Say something, Azriel…”

Your voice was small, barely reaching his ears.

“Whether it be an excuse or a reason… Just say something, please.”

He watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, onto the dark colors of your mourning gown. It had been weeks since Rhysar’s death and yet you still continue to wear it — it had been gorgeous on you, Azriel’s dark voice revering in his head that you were beautiful in black, and not your usual white.

“Tell me you did it for your love for me… go on. Tell me… anything, on your reasoning for killing our son. Despite my pleading for you to not listen to the vision I spewed.”

Azriel remained quiet and another sob wracked through your body, a thinned hand coming up to press against pale lips, an attempt to hold back throwing everything up from your stomach.

Dull hues stared up at him, “The fates and Mother will continue to scorn me… Despite all of this, I can’t help but still love you. I have loved you for so long… that mating bond was just another thing that had pushed me to love you…”

He watched you move from the casket, dragging your body on marbled floors to where he stood. Azriel felt your hands grab his leathers, grasping onto anything on him as you continued to sob.

“Please… Say anything. At least… it would make me hate you even less…”

Azriel sighed softly as he leaned down and brought you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style as he pressed his lips against your own — once again, silencing your cries.

He felt you shake in his grasp, your hands pushing at his shoulders, tugging on his hair — attempting to pull away from the kiss. He let you, and he heard you gasp, taking in air as you looked at him, brows furrowed and your lower lip wobbling.

“Why!!” you yelled, your voice hoarse and cracking. You continued to push at his shoulders, clawing at his leathers. Azriel held you tight against him, afraid that if you moved too much in his arms, you’d fall and damage yourself.

“Why don’t you say anything?!! Why did you have to kill our son?! Because of the vision? Because of my powers?! Why!!?”

You gasped, pressing a hand against your throat — a tall tell sign of a panic attack seeping into your bones. Azriel brought your face close to his again, pressing his lips onto yours once more, an attempt to bypass the attack that was waiting to happen.

He felt your body calm against his and he sighed in relief into the kiss, pressing you closer to him. Azriel moved towards the wall, pressing you against it. His lips moved from yours to your neck, teeth and tongue scraping against the skin, and felt you relaxed in his hold.

A distraction for you and desire from him fueled his actions. His shadows felt their master’s desire for you and helped, pinning your form against the stone walls as he knelt, hands pushing and tugging layers of clothes.

He whispered devotion against your skin before devouring you in his darkness, in his love. A sinful moan escaped your lips, pressing yourself further into the wall, the silvers of shadow intertwining around your limbs as Azriel devoured you.

You glanced down at familiar scarred fingers as your mate traced the bruise that was on your wrist, one that was not of his making — but one that was made by you.

Your gaze was not focused as your mind was elsewhere — your memories flashing behind your eyes of what had occurred the past few days.

The birth of your High Lord and Lady’s first child — the heir to Night Court was brought to this world. You had loved that child, much like he was your own… you had pampered and spoiled the child rotten, a way to distract your racing mind.

Your power was starting to grow out of control.

There were moments where you were in control of your body and mind, and the next thing you knew, you were watching your powers take over you — as if your soul was pushed out of your body and all you could do was watch in horror of the visions that you decreed.

What had pushed you to the brink of hurting yourself was the day you noticed how Rian’s eyes glowed a familiar eerie color — one similar to yours when your powers overtake you.

Rian had inherited your powers.

And the first vision he ever saw had rattled you to your knees.

You watched as the power took over your child, those eyes glow and all you wanted was to pray to the Gods, to the Mother above to spare your child from such fates of being a Seer. Those all-seeing eyes stared at you as he pointed his small finger at you.

“Skin and bones burned and swallowed in darkness. To the father that has betrayed his kin, killed his own flesh. To the mother who continues to sit in darkness. There will be violence, there will be death. The Seer’s path will always walk in bloodshed. To ensure your kin will live for millennials, only your death will stop the madness.”

You felt fingers caress your cheek, and you blinked your dull eyes staring up at your mate who looked at you with so much softness that it tugged at your heart.

Oh, your mate — your wonderful and beautiful mate.

How much you loved him with your entire being, the entirety of your soul.

You had no idea where it had gone astray — was it the moment he heard of you? The moment your name reached his shadows and ears? Or was it when the bond snapped? That your souls were tired indefinitely that made your husband lose his mind to the darkness in his heart?

“(Y/N)…” he muttered.

Your name sounded beautiful in his voice — his baritone tone that rumbled in his chest, and echoed in your own. You fought back a shudder as you continued to stare up at him, watching those hazel eyes swim with something you were unable to identify.

“I told you to tell me when things get to hard for you. To tug on our bond, to call my shadows, to whisper my name. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself like this when your powers overwhelm you… I could help…”

The warmth of his hand that cradled your cheek was so powerful that you couldn’t help but lean into it, your hand clutching your mate’s wrist as you snuggled into that warmth you loved.

A chuckle rattled out of Azriel and you felt him pull you closer to him, pressing his lips against your own.

You found that Azriel loved to kiss you, to make love to you at his convenience — to distract you, to distract him, from the world around both of you.

Your body fell back against soft velvet of your bedsheets, your husband’s body hovering over yours as he grounded himself onto you. His hands pressed against your sides, tugging on clothes and flesh to his desire.

“Instead of asking you, my love… I should make it an order — to stop you from hurting yourself.”

His lips slid from your own, sliding down your neck and shoulder, as fingers tugged your dress from your chest. His lips wrapped around the sensitive bud, as those darkened hazel eyes looked up at you.

“If you have no intention of doing what I ask of you —”

“I am doing exactly a you ask, my love.”

You felt him pause in his love making, pulling away from your breast to look at you. You felt your powers slowly take over again, and this time around, you had no intention of stopping them.

“I know how much you love me, to the point you are willing to die, Azriel. I know that any scars on my body hurt you more… than the ones on your own.”

You brought up his marred hand — one that was always covered with blood and scars — to your lips and pressed a kiss on them, one so gentle and soft that he barely would feel it.

“Let us make a wager, Shadowsinger…”

Your hands dropped his and slid up his broad arms, over his shoulders and around his neck, delicate fingers grasping onto black locks tugging enough to tilt his head back from your position. A pleased hum escaped your lips as you leaned up and bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulders.

“Anyone you will love after me… will be punished for it. They will lose their lives, their families, and themselves to the darkness that you have in your heart. And without anyone to love… you will lose your mind and die of madness.”

A cough raked your body, blood spilling out of your lips. You smiled down at your mate — your powers finally at its breaking point. You used the last of your powers, forced your powers to fully take over you, to call upon one last vision. You felt your vision start to blur, the vision of your husband the last thing you’d ever see in this world.

“You have caused this curse upon yourself, Shadowsinger… You should have simply told me you loved me… from the very beginning.”

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 7

Hey guys! Here we have another chapter of this fun little fic.

In this we have Eddie finding out what happened to Carol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Interviewer: You don’t like talking about your family or growing up. Can you give us some insight into that?

Steve sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully: When Robin first approached me about publishing my works, she first offered to have me publish under a pseudonym but I wanted to shove it in my parents’ faces that I was doing well without their favor or money.

Interviewer: I thought you said that you were trust fund baby?

Steve nodded: My grandparents on my dad side set it up for me when I was born and both sets of grandparents were given access to deposit money but the only one allowed to take money out was me. I was supposed to get it when I turned eighteen, but my parents hid it from me. It was only when I saw the notice that I had thirty days to claim it or it would revert back to my grandparents did I even know I had one.

~

Hunting down Carol Perkins was easier and the same time harder than with Billy Hargrove. It had been a year since she cut town and sent that postcard so she might have moved on from New York to literally anywhere else in the world.

But Eddie had a hunch that she was still there. Mainly because from what he remembered about her. She always wanted to live in New York. She had been just as vocal about it as Eddie had about anything else. She would talk your ear off about it if you stood still long enough.

Of course Tommy would follow it up with him being some hotshot Wall Street trader, with Steve just shaking his head at both of them.

That brought Eddie up short when he thought about it. Like everyone assumed Steve was going to join his dad in whatever it was his dad did. He was a business man, whatever the hell that meant. But, no matter how hard he wracked his brains he couldn’t remember a single time that Steve had talked about his dreams or what he wanted to do after high school. No school he wanted to get into or career he wanted.

Steve Harrington would nod along, but he never really added to the conversation. Did he have a dream? Even as a kid he must have before high school and popularity beat every original idea out of his head, right?

Was it being a sports star? Eddie didn’t know much about the guy, but he knew he was on the basketball team and maybe something about a swim meet competing with a basketball practice if he remembered right.

Damn!

He really should paid more attention to the dude. If nothing else because what he did affected Eddie and his freaks. But he just... hadn’t.

Eddie couldn’t even remember having any classes with Steve either, not even the year they shared their senior year. Which now that he thought about it, that was weird, right? Surely their lives must have intersected somewhere in high school, but the more he racked his brain, the less he remembered.

Eddie scratched his chin, then he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He pushed the file away from him and sat back in his chair.

He had other cases to work on, but Carol’s disappearance kept calling him back. He knew that it wasn’t likely that she had anything to do with murders or even Jason’s death and Robin’s rescue, but it fascinated him.

There were a rash of disappearances that weren’t related to the murders as far as he could tell, but happened at the same time. It scratched that little monkey part of his brain that loved mysteries and he was more than happy to give into the temptation.

Where Steve Harrington fit in all this? That was another thing he didn’t know, but he felt like the former King was a part of the puzzle and he was going to find out what.

~

Since there wasn’t anyone paying him to track down Carol it had to take a backseat to whatever paying job he was working on. So he was grateful when an employee drained his employer’s bank account and made a run for New York.

That meant while he was tracking the little idiot, he could track down Carol too.

It was almost comical how fast he found her actually. He passed a corner market and stopped in for smokes and more film when he saw her and Nicole giggling together in the corner apparently fighting over the kind of chips to buy.

Nicole spotted him first. “Holy shit, it’s Eddie Munson.”

Carol turned her head and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

Suddenly Eddie felt self-conscious and he ducked his head. He found her, he just needed to tell Tina she’s in New York and which area to look. Then everyone could avoid this awkward farce all together.

“Hey, man!” Nicole greeted warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Eddie’s head rocketed up and stared at her wide-eyed and slack jawed. “You are? I mean it is?”

“Yeah, god,” Nicole said putting her hand on his arm comfortingly. “I was so relieved when I heard they had released you. After Molly, no one but the pigs thought you were the killer.”

“Yeah,” Carol said, joining them. “Like I don’t care how drunk the patrons are, the owner and the bartender both said you were playing all night.”

Nicole looked over her shoulder at Carol and nodded. “My dad was one of those drunks and he might be a piece of shit most of the time, he swore on his next bottle of gin that you didn’t do those kids in.”

Eddie blinked at them both for a moment, trying to fight back tears. He hadn’t known that the people in town believed him. He assumed that they were all like the cops, and playing the game of ‘pin the crime on the poor kid’.

“Thanks, ladies,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “It’s nice to hear that from someone who wasn’t part of Carver’s hit list.”

Both girls looked at each other muttering and stammering over themselves.

“Right,” he huffed. “This sounds like a conversation for somewhere a little more private than a very public corner store. So let me buy what I came in for, you two lovely ladies do the same and you can show me the best place to buy a slice of pizza.”

Carol grinned at him. “I think we have a deal.” She shook his hand and they went their separate ways for the moment.

Eddie was done first, so he sat outside the store, smoking one of his freshly bought cigarettes, waiting for them to get done with their shopping.

He had finished his cigarette and was contemplating another when the two girls came out of the shop laden with grocery bags.

“Come on then,” Nicole said brightly, “get us a cab and we’ll talk.”

Eddie eyed her warily for a moment and then stuck out his hand, a cab immediately breaking from traffic to pull up to the curb next to them. “After you, ladies.”

Carol and Nicole got into the cab and slid all the way over, then Eddie got in after them. Carol gave the address to the pizza place.

Carol and Eddie got out but Nicole remained with the groceries. Eddie gave her some money for the cab and then followed Carol into the pizza place.

Suddenly Eddie was hit by a hundred aromas and all of them smelling divine. Carol led him to the counter where she ordered two large pizzas and a pitcher of beer. Once they had settled down at their table Carol placed her hands on the table.

“Right,” she huffed, “full disclosure, Molly Masters was...” she stopped and let out a pained sigh. “She wasn’t really anything, we couldn’t be. But God I loved her. She bright and funny and snarky as hell. I tried to get her to come with me when Tommy found us kissing behind the bleachers, but she wouldn’t leave. She wanted to finish high school. And now...” she let out a small sob.

Eddie’s eyes went wide and stayed that way her whole story. “Well shit. Tommy hit you didn’t he? That’s why you ran?”

Carol let out a pained sigh. “He tried, but I played softball, trust me when I say my swing is a hell of a lot harder than Tommy fucking Hagan.”

Eddie snickered. “Good on you, girl. So what brings you out to New York?”

She straightened up and took a deep breath. “I trying to be an actress on Broadway, but I don’t think it will take. Me, Nicole and a couple dykes we know are doing blood drives for AIDS patients. So I’m thinking of heading to law school. I think I can convince my parents to pay for that at least.”

“Are you in contact with them?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. “The way they acted when I asked them where you were they didn’t want to talk about you at all.”

Carol smiled. “They don’t like that I’m a lesbian, but when Tommy tried to hurt me, they went into protective parents mode. If you brought him up at all, they probably thought you were sent by him and they didn’t want him to hunt me down.”

“So why not tell Tina where you are?” Eddie asked, as their pizza arrived. Two warm plates filled with a cheese pizza and a pepperoni. He grabbed a couple of slices of each and put them on his plate. “She seemed to think they’re in league with your ex.”

“Oof!” she said, grabbing a slice of the cheese. “I’ll send her another postcard. I had kinda forgotten that she might be worried about me. I’ve been enjoying my time here.”

“So you and Nicole?” Eddie said with a teasing grin and a cock of his head.

Carol blushed and focused on chewing her food very thoroughly. She gulped heavily. “Something like that.”

Eddie cackled. “So why do you want to be a lawyer anyway?”

“To help those suffering from AIDS,” she said fiercely, “make sure their wills in order and help them make the right end of life choices. There are so many of them who’s loved ones are torn from them because their families came in and took everything after they died.”

“That’s shit.”

“So Nicole is going to be a nurse,” Carol said with a shrug. “And I’m going to be a lawyer. Because our people are dying and their families are swooping in and shutting their loved ones out and if we can make the end easier for just one person, then we’ve succeeded.”

“I’m glad you were able to get out,” Eddie murmured around another bite of pizza. “How did you get out anyway? The way Tina tells it one minute your packing up and the next you’re sending postcards from Times Square.”

Carol shook her head and sighed. “Even though we weren’t friends anymore, even though he was in a dead end job slinging video tapes to the masses, one call to Mr. White Knight himself and he’s driving me to the Monroe County Airport so that no one would be able to find me unless I wanted them to. My parents even staged a fight so loud to cover my leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie said waving his hands in the air. “Steve Harrington gave you money and lift to fly out of Monroe to get the hell out of Dodge so your shitty ex-boyfriend wouldn’t follow you?”

Carol huffed. “Yeah. I owe the bastard a lot and I hate owing people anything.” She cocked her head to side. “My parents notwithstanding.”

“You’re always gonna feel some obligation to them,” Eddie said, wiping his hands off on a napkin. “They brought you into this world. No matter how shitty they treat you.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience?” she asked, turning to pay their waiter. She handed him a credit card and he walked away.

Eddie snorted. “Mom died when I was eight, my dad was a drug dealing, car stealing, law avoiding asshat with anger issues that were worse when he was drunk. And he was almost always drunk. I got put with my uncle, Wayne when I about eleven years old and he’s been my family ever since. But dear old dad comes around every once in awhile for a handout or to pull one or both of us into some kind of scheme that will get us arrested, maimed, and/or dead.”

He licked his lips and started picking at a loose thread on the table cloth. “And for the longest time, I thought I owed him for at least trying to keep food on the table even if it was through less than ethical means. But when he told me he wanted to burn down house I grew up in for the insurance money when I was sixteen and wanted me to help him cover it up, I walked away. He was never going to be the man I needed as the kind of man to grow up into. I had my uncle for that.”

“Yeah,” Carol said, “but you beat the odds, you’ve got a good job as seeing as you can travel to New York when you want to and that’s something your dad could never say.”

Eddie worked his jaw as he fought back tears. “Yeah, I’m a private investigator now. I’m technically here on a job, but yeah. I’ve been all over the place. I love it.”

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Good on you.”

They talked for awhile longer and then Carol had to go. She had the rest of the pizza boxed up to take home to Nicole and they said their goodbyes.

Eddie stepped out onto the pavement and lit up another cigarette. He knew he would be there awhile hunting down his corporate idiot thief, but he was glad that he got to meet and talk with Carol and Nicole. He was glad her parents were trying to protect her from Tommy and not colluding with the asshole.

It also meant he was back to square one. If Molly was still alive when Carol had made a run for it, there was no way she was in Hawkins when Robin was attacked.

He blew his first drag straight into the air and then let out a heavy sigh. He was starting to think that he was just going to have to let it go. As much as it galled. He let out another sigh and hailed a cab. It was time to get back to work. The kind that paid.

~

Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @stripey82 @kroymu09 @chaotic-waffle

10- @tartarusknight @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @mags6422 @johannamry @mags6422

[kallie-den]

Shared Interests

Brittany snoops on her nerdy, perverted, slobbish little sister’s computer in a hunt for dirt - but thanks to a strange computer program, the two of them suddenly end up with a shared interest in hopeless masturbation

Last year my patrons voted for something truly perverted, and I was happy to indulge!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

“Hey, dork! I told you to keep out of my stuff! Did you take my-“

Brittany’s rage died in her throat as she busted open the door to her little sister Kess’s room and saw that Kess wasn’t there to evade her accusations with sidelong glances, stammered protests, and telltale filthy giggles. That was weird—Kess barely ever left her room, and Brittany was sure she wasn’t anywhere else in the apartment. Which meant she was out, and Kess almost literally never went out.

Brittany’s sister was a complete and total shut-in.

It was one of many reasons living with her was completely and totally exhausting. Brittany hated that their mom had insisted on the two of them living together when they went away to college. It was completely unfair! At twenty-one, why was she still stuck looking after her baby sister?

It would have been one thing if Kess had been cool, like Brittany. Brittany was cool enough and hot enough that, from her very first week in college, she’d been welcomed with open arms into the very top rung of college society. She went to sorority parties, she had her pick of boyfriends from the college’s football team, and now that she was in her third year, she was surrounded by a gaggle of other girls who hung on her every word. Brittany Simmons: Queen Bee.

But she couldn’t invite anybody over because if she did, she’d have to explain Kess.

And there was so much to explain. In the grand hierarchy of college life, Kess wouldn’t even qualify for the bottom rung. She didn’t even attend. Not really, anyway. She did her classes online, handed in her assignments online, and socialized online—and only, it seemed, with other losers just as gross as her. It didn’t make any sense to Brittany; why be a college student if all you were going to do was stay in and wear t-shirts and track pants?

Of course, she didn’t care about Kess wasting her own time. If Kess wanted to let college slip through her fingers, that was her business.

No. Brittany cared because of all the problems Kess gave her.

“Let’s see…” Brittany murmured. “Gotta be around here somewhere.”

Picking out anything in particular from amongst all the clothes strewn on Kess’s floor was a struggle, but after a few minutes of searching, Brittany was able to find what she’d come here looking for: a pair of her gym shorts that had gone missing lately.

It was almost funny. Some of Brittany’s fellow sorority girls complained about their little sisters stealing their stuff to wear. Brittany would have been over the moon if all Kess wanted to do with her clothes was wear them. She had no confirmation of what, exactly, her little sister did use her clothes for, but the fact that she only stole dirty items felt like one hell of a giveaway.

Disgusting. They were sisters, for Christ’s sake.

“Gross,” Brittany groaned. Everything about Kess’s room was gross. She took a whiff of the air; the whole place stank of sweat. “Time to get the hell out of here.”

She turned to leave—and then she noticed that Kess’s computer was still running.

A slow grin crept across Brittany’s features. Finally. The opening she’d been looking for.

Normally, Kess guarded her PC with her life. It contained the only thing Kess seemed to truly value—and if Brittany was right, a few minutes was all she’d need to be rid of her annoying pervert of a sister for good.  Their mom had a frustrating inability to see any of Kess’s many, glaring flaws for what they were. Whenever Brittany complained about her and begged to be allowed to live with someone else, she dismissed her issues with Kess as nothing more than sisterly misunderstandings. Brittany needed proof, and she was certain proof was waiting right there on Kess’s hard drive.

In Kess’s one and only treasure. Her porn collection.

Brittany knew she had one. She just knew. The way she constantly took up all the bandwidth on their internet connection with nondescript ‘downloads’ was one clue. The other was the constant noise from her porn videos bleeding through the walls and into Brittany’s room at all hours of the night.

That was by far the biggest reason Brittany couldn’t invite friends and boyfriends over.

Kess’s constant masturbation had just one silver lining: it let Brittany know that she was into some seriously gross stuff. Given their apartment’s thin walls and Kess’s apparent inability to just wear headphones like a normal human being, she couldn’t help but pick up on it. A bunch of it seemed to be themed around hypnotism, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Brittany—it wasn’t real, obviously, and wasn’t it way too cheesy to be hot? Another big chunk was, uncomfortably enough, incest-related. Brittany had shuddered upon hearing a particularly loud moan of ‘sis!’ more times than she could count.

And then there were all of Kess’s vids that went on about ‘gooning’. Whatever the hell that was.

Obviously, Brittany got no pleasure from knowing all about Kess’s weird fetishes. Just the opposite, in fact. But the good part was that if she could show some of that stuff to their mom, she might finally be convinced that something needed to be done about Kess. Or at least that Brittany shouldn’t have to be subjected to her all the time.

“OK, loser,” Brittany smirked, as she sat down at Kess’s desk. “Show me your worst.”

Poking around, she quickly found obscene quantities of porn, but nothing that was truly damning. Kess’s computer was just as messy as her room. Pics, videos, and folders were placed haphazardly across all four of her monitors—seriously, why did she need four?—and no system of organization Brittany could discern pointed her to anything she could use as evidence or blackmail material.

Until she saw it. Right in the middle of Kess’s main monitor, staring her in the face and practically begging to be clicked on.

JACKPOT.exe

Brittany grinned. This had to be it. Anything a pervert of Kess’s caliber would consider a jackpot was sure to be exactly what she was looking for. The worst of the worst. True freak material.

Certain her victory was at hand, Brittany planted the cursor on the icon and opened it up.

At once, she was blinded.

She was so stunned, it took Brittany a long moment to figure out what, exactly, had even happened. Once her eyes finally adjusted to the garish light being blasted straight into her face, she realized it was a whole bunch of bright, spinning spirals, one on each of Kess’s monitors. All took on different colors and patterns, and none were particularly impressive. They looked like the kind of cheap gifs that any cursory Google search might turn up. Was this really Kess’s jackpot? Was this the kind of thing she got off to? What a freak. 

It was already beginning to hurt Brittany’s eyes, and so instinctively she made to pull away and close them. But she didn’t move. A moment later, and Brittany realized she couldn’t move. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off the spirals.

“What the…” Brittany half-laughed to herself. “T-this is… weird? You must be… joking.”

The way her own voice sounded distant and dreamy all of a sudden was immediately disquieting. It seemed impossible, but Brittany couldn’t quite bring herself to reject the obvious thought: this was hypnosis, wasn’t it?

That was dumb. That was ridiculous! Hypnosis wasn’t real.

And yet…

Brittany made another effort to peel her gaze away from the spirals, but as she summoned her strength, she became conscious of how much of it already drained away. Against her will, her eyelids simply refused to close. It wasn’t that her eyes were locked on a single spot; rather, whenever Brittany managed to flick her eyes away from the center of one of the spirals, the remaining three were waiting right there to snatch away her focus, and seeing all of them in the shrinking corners of her vision left her too disoriented to muster herself properly.

The result was maddening; a sensory overload of hypnotic imagery that left Brittany’s head throbbing and her body going slack. She was a prisoner of the spirals. Even her usual resting bitch face was starting to slip away, replaced with an expression of drunk, awestruck captivation that Brittany was irritated to know Kess would have gotten a kick out of.

Then, the spirals began to change.

At first, Brittany thought she was imagining the brief flashes of light that appeared on the screens at rapid, irregular intervals. But as each one pricked at her, leaving her distracted and disoriented, she realized that they were real—and then, as her eyes adjusted to the constant flickering, she realized they weren’t just flashes of light. They were flashes of images.

No. Not just images. Flashes of porn.

As soon as she realized what she was looking at, Brittany found herself overwhelmed by the never-ending tide of obscene imagery being pumped into her eyeballs. Her first instinct was to recoil from it, disgusted, but the hypnotic spirals denied her even that, leaving her to do nothing but watch helplessly as it all washed over her.

Tits. Asses. Hips. Thighs. Cunts. Cocks. Armpits. Sweat. Drool. Spit. Cum. Thrusting. Pumping. Grinding. Humping. Pounding. Fucking. A cacophony of bodies, slamming into each other over and over again, or displaying themselves in poses that pushed the boundaries of eroticism and possibility further and further. After a few minutes, the barrage of pornography completely shattered Brittany’s sense of judgment. She stopped being angry at the porn, or disgusted, or irritated, or confused, or anything else.

She simply accepted it.

The spirals wouldn’t let her do anything else.

But eventually, inevitably, her body started reacting.

At least, Brittany tried to tell herself it was inevitable. With what few thoughts remained to her, she tried desperately to convince herself that the heat in her body and the itching need between her legs was nothing more than a natural, physiological reaction to seeing all these images of nudity and sex. Anyone would start feeling the way she did, even if—like her—they were a straight girl looking at porn consisting entirely of women. It wasn’t because she was actually enjoying this. It wasn’t because she had any of the same proclivities as Kess.

And it certainly wasn’t because of the words being pumped into her ears. Right?

You want porn.

You need porn.

You love porn.

You crave porn.

Once Brittany noticed the voice, she realized she wasn’t sure when, exactly, it had begun. At some point, audio had started accompanying the flashes of porn she was being shown and, like a frog in boiling water, she’d failed to notice. At first, she was pretty sure, it had been snippets from the porn itself. Moaning. Pleading. The wet, sticky sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Then, there had been music—low, pumping, a little cheesy, as most porn music tended to be, but somehow melodic too, and deeply, deeply, relaxing.

Embedded within the music, there was a voice. Brittany could feel it reaching into her head and planting its words amongst her thoughts, there to grow like invasive weeds.

You’re obsessed with porn.

You love watching porn.

Porn makes you feel good.

Porn turns you on.

Brittany could feel it, but she couldn’t fight it. She was still being lulled into a trance by the spirals, and bombarded with obscene imagery that was only growing more and more distracting. The over-stimulation was too much. She couldn’t get a handle on any of the suggestions being poured into her ears. She tried, in vain, to fend them off; to apprehend each one, to refute it clearly, to put it aside, then brace herself for the next.

But it was useless. Her thoughts broke apart, dashed against the rocks with each flicker and flash porn, and in the resulting confusion, Brittany found herself unable to help accepting the very suggestions she was trying to keep from infecting her.

Obsessed with porn? No, of course not! She just liked porn.

Of course she did. Porn turned her on. Porn made her feel good.

No, wait.

That wasn’t right. Or was it? Didn’t everyone feel that way? Everyone looked at porn, right?

Yeah. Brittany loved watching porn. She needed it.

Maybe she was just a little bit obsessed.

And with that one thought, all the remaining components of her psyche fell like dominoes.

Brittany was obsessed with porn.

Brittany loved watching porn.

Porn made Brittany feel good.

Porn turned Brittany on.

With that new thought pattern seeping into the foundations of her mind, Brittany found it so much harder to fight what was happening to her. The process was far less distressing now. It aroused no resentment. No will to resist.

After all, she was just being shown porn, right?

And Brittany loved porn. Fuck, she really loved porn.

Her disgust now converted into fervent appreciation, Brittany was struggling to find reasons to push back against any part of what was happening to her. Sure, it was a little weird that she was being hypnotized, but could she really be angry? It was, she reasoned, a bit like being forced to sit down and watch her favorite movie. Was she truly being forced, in the end? And yes, it was strange that she’d stumbled across something like this on her sister’s computer, but it was difficult to think about that when she was distracted by the way her hard feelings toward Kess were beginning to soften.

Kess was gross. She was creepy and annoying, and Brittany wished she’d keep her masturbatory habits under tighter wraps so Brittany didn’t have to deal with them. But… could she really blame her? If Kess was guilty of anything, wasn’t it simply over-enthusiasm for her hobby?

And besides—she had good taste.

If Brittany had been free to look anywhere but at the screens and free to do anything but stare straight ahead, slack-jawed and drooling, she might have rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully. Over-enthusiastic kid sisters got on everybody’s nerves, right?

There was still part of Brittany that could sense how deeply, awfully wrong her twisting thoughts were becoming. No, it wasn’t like that at all! Kess was doing something to her. She had to be. Everything about the situation she’d found herself in was deeply, completely fucked up. But…

But Brittany loved porn. She was obsessed with porn. Porn made her feel good. Porn turned her on. All that was making the experience way, way too distracting for her anger and fear to crystallize into anything real. And all the while, the spirals kept turning and turning, glorious porn kept blaring into her eyeballs, and more suggestions kept worming their way into Brittany’s open, pliable mind.

You want to touch yourself to porn.

You need to touch yourself to porn.

You love to touch yourself to porn.

An ingrained sense of dignity and restraint tried to tell her otherwise—but in a mere moment, it was overwhelmed. Brittany was already too far gone. She was obsessed with porn, so it was only natural that she loved touching herself to it. What else did people do with porn? It was strange; Brittany could really remember ever using porn to get off much. She’d never had a reason to. But now, all of a sudden, she was certain it was one of her very favorite things.

She felt that certainty as an itch. As something kinetic and urgent, filling her limbs with energy and driving them into motion. But not to escape. Not to free herself. Just to raise her hand and, inch by inch, bring it across her thighs and toward her cunt while the suggestions became more and more insistent.

Touch yourself to porn.

Touch yourself for porn.

Always touch yourself looking at porn.

The itch doubled, and with that became all but irresistible. Brittany couldn’t keep her hand still. The words being pumped into her ears were truly becoming her own thoughts. A violent demand repeated over and over again, inside her head and out of it, redoubling moment after moment.

Brittany needed to touch herself to porn. Fuck. She needed to touch herself right now.

But she couldn’t, could she? After all, she was sitting in her little sister’s room, at her little sister’s desk. Kess could come home and walk in on her at any moment. Brittany couldn’t even begin to imagine how deathly embarrassing that would be. It was unthinkable. There was simply no way.

And yet…

The itch. Brittany needed to touch herself. To porn. For porn.

She was obsessed with it.

Part of her was still fighting to tell her that this was wrong. That she didn’t truly feel any of this. Brittany’s memories completely contradicted everything she was being told, and dwelling on them brought forth a sense of anxious dissonance that she tried to cling to in order to fight back against the brainwashing. She never looked at porn! She’d never needed to! She’d always had boyfriends or hookups. Hadn’t she always thought porn was gross? She wasn’t some porn-obsessed loser like Kess.

All of that now seemed so distant.

And in the end, it didn’t matter. The spirals and porn on the screens before her didn’t care, and their hypnotic pull was far, far too great to resist.

You’re desperate to touch yourself to porn.

You can’t resist touching yourself to porn.

Touching yourself to porn is more important than anything.

As if in anticipation of her resistance, those suggestions started repeating themselves over and over, pounding themselves into Brittany’s weak, vulnerable mind. The constant onslaught of spirals and porn was only further eroding her resistance. Each flash, each glimpse of throbbing, heaving, sweaty bodies, each long moment of feeling her brain drained into a spiral—all of them left her weaker and weaker, and allowed the brainwashing to steadily reshape her personality and her priorities.

Brittany was desperate. She was so desperate. She couldn’t contain her sheer, abject desperation as her hand began to unbutton her jeans and slip down the front of her panties. It was undeniable. She was so desperate, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She couldn’t resist touching herself to porn.

The idea was still completely mortifying. Brittany hated thinking about it. She hated what she was about to do. It’s just that her inhibitions were no longer enough to hold her back. Her need and desperation were too great. She was their slave, and her willpower was steadily draining away to nothing. She couldn’t resist. Not for a moment longer.

Because touching herself to porn was more important than anything.

That quickly sunk in and embedded itself in Brittany’s psyche. With it, her shame abated. It simply no longer mattered to her. A dull smile spread across her face. What was she so worried about? Who cares if Kess walked in on her? This was more important.

Now that there was nothing holding her back, Brittany pushed her hand all the way into her panties and started rubbing her fingertips against her greedy, dripping cunt.

Her loud, lewd moans sounded just like the ones coming from the porn flashing on the screens in front of her.

Which was unbelievably hot. The fact that she sounded so much like porn was driving Brittany wild. She loved porn. She was obsessed with it. And the verbal suggestions coming from the speakers were quick to reinforce her pleasure.

Touching yourself to porn feels good.

Touching yourself to porn is perfect.

Touching yourself to porn is all you need.

Nothing feels better than touching yourself to porn.

Brittany nodded in eager agreement as she rubbed her pussy. There was no longer any part of her that wanted to resist, or that was capable of it. It was simply obvious; nothing felt better than this. Than touching herself to porn. And the pleasure, rising from her throat in thick, wet moans, made her all the more susceptible.

You want to look at porn all day.

You want to touch yourself to porn all day.

You want to let porn run your life.

You want to ruin yourself with porn.

Again, Brittany just nodded stupidly, gleefully committing herself to her new, humiliating fixation, with a dumb, wide, pleasure-stained grin on her face and copious loops of drool dribbling down her chin. To her hypnotized, bliss-broken mind, it was all true. She wanted to look at and touch herself to porn all day. How could she not? It felt so good. Better than anything else. She wanted to let porn run her life.

And if that would ruin her? Brittany would embrace it.

Touching herself to porn was all she needed.

You need more porn.

You need filthier porn.

You crave nasty fetish porn.

You always need more porn.

In synch with the shifting suggestions, the kinds of porn being shown to Brittany in glimpses and flashed amongst the spirals began to shift too. Instead of vanilla, familiar snippets of naked bodies and passionate but conventional couplings, an entire world of kinks and fetishes appeared on Kess’s monitors—and immediately started to blossom in Brittany’s imagination. Outfits and costumes. Bondage and choking. Feet and armpits. And besides those, countless other fetishes, ranging from the taboo to the bizarre.

Brittany touched herself to all of them. She finger-fucked her cunt impatiently; pace quickening, moans filling the air as she soaked her clothes with sweat and wetness in her desperate drive toward orgasm. None of the fetish porn she was now masturbating to gave her pause. In fact, the only gripe she had was that it wasn’t enough.

She always needed more porn.

Fortunately, Kess’s entire collection was right here to provide. All Brittany’s plans to mine it for ammunition against her little sister were long forgotten. The only thing she now cared about was using it to get off.

Touch yourself to porn all day.

Touch yourself to porn for hours.

Touch yourself to porn over and over again.

Touching yourself to porn is the only thing you care about.

Rewire your brain by touching yourself to porn.

Brittany just nodded and grunted impatiently. She no longer needed to be told. Porn was the only thing she cared about. She wanted it to rewire her. To ruin her. She no longer wanted to spare a thought for anything else. Kess could be coming home at any moment. Brittany had made plans with her college friends in just a couple of hours. She didn’t care. She already knew that, no matter what, she was going to stay sitting right there, touching herself to Kess’s porn.

Nothing could have made her happier.

For hours and hours, as Kess’s hypnosis regimen ran its course, then looped over and over again from the start, the only movement in Brittany’s little sister’s bedroom was the rhythmic motion of the formerly proud, dignified, restrained, and thoroughly normal college girl’s hand rubbing up and down against her dripping, throbbing, needy cunt.

***

By the time Kess finally came home, so many hours had passed that the sky was dark outside and Brittany’s plans with her friends had long since come and gone. Her body ached from hours of unending masturbation, and her eyes were bloodshot from so long spent staring at the four monitors in front of her.

Brittany didn’t care. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t resist. She needed to keep touching herself to porn.

The hypnotic aspects of the program playing out on Kess’s computer had abated hours ago. They had done their work. Brittany was thoroughly conditioned with her newfound obsession with porn. She no longer needed the spirals to keep her rooted to the spot. She stayed sitting at Kess’s desk willingly, because of the constant deluge of amazing, filthy, twisted fetish porn she was being shown.

It was all she cared about. She was obsessed with it. Nothing was more important to Brittany than porn. And so, when she heard the door open behind her, followed by the sound of Kess’s approaching footsteps, she didn’t stop touching herself. She didn’t even take her eyes off the screen.

“Oh my god,” came Kess’s distinctly nerdy, nasally, stammering voice. “I c-can’t believe it actually worked.”

Brittany felt herself grow hot with shame and anger as the realization hit. She was furious at Kess, and mortified at being seen—but that wasn’t more important than porn.

“You…” she panted, fingers still plunging in and out of her cunt. “This… y-you set me up?”

Kess let out a dirty, nervous giggle. “You’re always b-busting into my room. Knew you’d take a peak sometime. So I decided to set a trap.”

Brittany’s eyes widened. “You… brainwashed me.”

“Yeah.” Another dirty giggle. “Isn’t it hot?”

Brittany shivered rapturously. For a brief moment, she willed herself to disagree. She forced herself to try to fix in her head all the many, many reasons why what Kess had done to her was an unbelievably disgusting and unforgivable violation of her personal boundaries and autonomy.

It didn’t work. In no more than an instant, it had all slipped away.

Kess was right. It was so hot. All the hypnosis porn she’d been touching herself to for hours now had completely rewritten her brain. Her new fetish was all-consuming, and her new set of priorities ensured that it effortlessly outweighed all other concerns.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Brittany whined.

Her hand quickened again, bringing forth moans with her every breath. She couldn’t believe how hot it was. It was like Brittany was living out a work of porn. She couldn’t believe her luck.

"You’re really hot too,” Kess said. She was standing directly behind Brittany now, and her voice was filled with unmistakable lechery. “I’ve always w-wanted to see you like this, sis.”

The unwholesome note in her voice should have made Brittany recoil. Instead, it just made her shiver. She was trapped in a fever of arousal.

“You… always?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Kess confirmed. Another nervous, dirty laugh. “You’re so pretty. I’ve a-always wanted us to be closer, you know. But you’re amazing, and I’m j-just a pervert.” She giggled again. “So I h-had to bring you down to my level.”

“Down to your level…” Brittany echoed faintly. She couldn’t help but find that hot, too.

“Uh-huh.” Brittany could hear the grin in Kess’s voice. Her little sister was overjoyed. “And now we f-finally have a shared interest. Something we can do together.”

She swiftly pulled over a spare chair and sat down in it, beside Brittany. Brittany could finally see her out of the corner of her eye. Usually, the sisters looked nothing alike. Brittany was tall, blonde, shapely, and pretty, while Kess was a mousy, shrunken, unkempt brunette. Now, though, the looks of lurid, feverish hedonism on their faces made them appear two of a kind.

“Here, sis,” Kess panted. “Let me h-help.”

Brittany froze when Kess reached over and touched her hand to Brittany’s thigh.

“That…” Brittany spluttered, fighting desperately to avoid the eager heat rising within her. “Kess, this… this is wrong.”

It was. It was against every taboo she’d ever been taught. Brittany should have been disgusted by the very suggestion. But she’d spent the past four hours pumping her head—among other things—incest porn, and the resulting urges effortlessly drowned Brittany’s better judgment.

It was just as she’d always known. She couldn’t resist porn.

“Do you want me to s-stop?” Kess asked, her fingers reaching closer and closer to Brittany’s cunt.

There was only one answer.

“No,” Brittany whined. “Please…”

When Kess’s fingertips reached her pussy, Brittany moaned like never before. It wasn’t just her sister’s touch. It wasn’t even the taboo. No; Brittany was swept up in rapturous awe by the very manner of her corruption. She was doing this because of porn. Because porn had made her find it hot.

She was letting porn run her life.

“Fuck,” Kess panted. “H-here. Do me.”

Using her free hand, she shucked out of her ugly, dirty sweatpants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. That was just like her. Gross. But Brittany didn’t hesitate. She reached across and pushed two of her fingertips into her little sister’s pussy. Kess’s greedy moans soon joined Brittany’s as the two of them masturbated each other.

“Y-yeah,” Kess laughed. “Fuck. That’s right. Just like that. I t-think we’re gonna spend a lot of time like this, sis.”

Brittany just nodded. She couldn’t dream of wanting anything else.

“You have…” she panted, “so much porn.”

It was still blaring on the screens in front of her, all four at once, cycling between videos, images, animations.

“Uh-huh.” Kess was grinning proudly. “Terabytes and terabytes.”

Brittany’s whole body throbbed at the thought of all of that time, money, and effort—all given over to porn.

“T-that’s so cool,” she found herself saying pathetically.

And she meant it. For as long as she could remember, Brittany had found Kess’s porn habits as unfathomable as they were disgusting. Now, though, as she spoke to her little sister, the barest hint of awe was creeping into her voice.

“T-thanks, sis.” Kess was practically glowing with happiness. “Can’t wait to show you.”

Brittany nodded, eyes widening. All that porn. She couldn’t wait.

“No more going to school,” Kess moaned. She was touching herself faster and faster. “No more hanging out with your friends.”

“Yes,” Brittany panted eagerly.

“No more going out late,” Kess continued. It was perfectly clear that she was turned on by the thought of Brittany’s downfall—and so was Brittany herself. “No more boyfriends. No more being cool and popular.”

“Yes.” Brittany could see it now, in her mind’s eye. Her entire life, sliding into ruin. Until she had none of the things she’d always been so proud of. Her status. Her popularity. Her fashion. Until she was a gross, gooner nerd just like Kess. “Yes, yes, y-yes!”

It was driving her so crazy, she was starting to see white.

“J-just you and me, sis,” Kess moaned. “Just like this. Looking at porn. All day. Every day.”

“F-f-fuck!” Brittany cried.

“Cum.” Kess told her, licking her lips. “Break your brain for porn. Break your brain for me.”

“Fuck!”

Brittany didn’t care if anyone in the neighboring apartments heard her scream as a huge orgasm, far greater than the ones she’d been giving herself all day, tore through her and obliterated all that remained of her dignity and decency. Kess’s expert fingers helped drive it on and on, higher and higher, until all that was left of cool, popular Brittany was a mewling, moaning, sweat-drenched mess whose head was full of nothing but the most sordid, debased, porn-induced fantasies.

Just as both of them wanted.

“Hey, s-sis,” Kess said, once Brittany started to come around. “You’ve been at this for a while, huh? M-maybe we should take a break? Get some food?”

Brittany looked at her and considered it for a moment—and then shook her head. “No way, sis,” she said, grinning, as she turned her attention back to Kess’s monitors. “I could keep going for hours!”

It was all she cared about. More important than food. More important than school. More important than sleep.

Porn ran her life.

Kess simply laughed. “Knew you’d say that,” she replied. She started touching Brittany again, and Brittany obligingly started touching her. “G-good news. We’re about to hit the really good stuff.”

---

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[gublernatural]

stay here | d.w.

note: this song has gone triple platinum in my house the last few days <3 luke hemmings u will always be famous TO ME

warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect (john winchester may you never live a peaceful day ever), heavy angst, if you're looking for a happy ending go somewhere else, typical spn storylines and violence, etc., not edited we die like men, intentional all lowercase

now i don't want to leave, it's a damn cold night, and i don't want to sleep, just tell me it's too late to drive

dean knew he shouldn’t have come. every bone in his body had told him to ignore the call, and he had, but when his brother’s phone rang, he knew something was wrong. his body felt numb as he carried himself to the small motel room table, pretending to be uninterested as sam nodded along to what was being said on the other side of the line.

“yeah,” sam muttered, eyeing dean, “i’ll let him know and we’ll be there soon.” sam had a rough understanding of your history with dean. he knew enough that if you were calling, there was a reason. you wouldn’t reach out unless there was quite literally no other option. and you definitely hadn’t ever been that desperate. not until now.

dean side-eyed him the entire way to your town. sam was waiting for dean to get mad, scream, turn up the radio, anything. the silence was letting dean fester. letting him sit in all the hurt and regret he had been running from for so long.

he didn’t blame you. not really. how could he when he knew you made your decision in his own best interest? dean knew when the door closed behind you, and he was left waiting for john to return, again, that he should’ve followed you out. he should’ve chased you, pulled you into him, and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he should’ve meant it.

over time, dean had realized that it wasn’t even really the hunting that made you leave. you never knew the full extent of what he did, just that he often had to disappear with his father. he knew he made that mistake with cassie and blew whatever chance he had at a semi-normal life with her, and he was not going to make that mistake again.

dean put in the effort to make the time he was there with you count, and to assure that even when he was away, you were on his mind. on one of the nights where dean laid awake, doing what he does best; hating himself, he realized that you left because of him. because of the way he allowed himself to be treated.

you had offered an escape. many times, actually. you cried, like really cried, begging to dean to get away from john. to stay with you and stop putting up with the abuse. that he didn’t need his father and that you two would figure it out. and you were halfway right. he didn’t need his father, but his father sure as hell needed him.

even when he would leave dean alone for weeks on end without so much as a phone call, john needed him. john needed dean as a reason to return home, as a reason to stay angry at yellow eyes, as a reason to keep going when all he wanted to do was give up.

even if he didn’t treat dean like he was worth holding on for.

dean wished he could turn back time, tell you that he finally sees, really sees, what you did. he can recognize now how john had hurt him, physically, mentally, and emotionally. yet, he still didn’t love himself enough to care. he didn’t love himself to condemn john’s actions. in dean’s eyes, he did what he had to. he taught dean the important stuff, and thats what mattered. he taught dean how to hunt and how important it was to take care of sammy. the two things that gave him his drive, his sense of purpose, his everything.

you were once a part of that list, but that was then and this is now.  

now, you were a part of list of things that john winchester had ruined for his sons.

“are we going to talk about it?” sam broke the silence, aggravated with way dean was stewing his own hurt and confusion. 

“there’s nothing to talk about,” dean shrugged, brushing sam off in a way sam was all too familiar with.

“dean,” sam huffed, growing more frustrated, “she called me.” he stressed. sam was away when dean had his chance with you, at stanford, living the life dean swore he had no interest in.

“only because i didn’t answer,” dean informed. sam was shocked, pausing momentarily to figure out how to reply. sam always assumed that if you called, dean would be there. there would be no hesitation, dean would be out the door and in the impala before sam could ask where he was going. sam had wished that would happen, briefly in the past.

but, clearly, he was wrong.

“why?” sam asked with that confused scowl he got when dean was being a difficult pain in the ass. dean shrugged, finally reaching forward to turn on the radio.

when they arrived at your home, dean couldn’t bring his legs to move. he wasn’t sure how long he sat in the front seat staring at your dainty apartment building. he wished he had a cover to use. he wished you were a stranger and he could play fbi and pretend there was no history here, no words unspoken. no regrets.

sam turned back to the car from where he was standing at the door to the building, glaring at dean. dean hadn’t noticed him leave the car, honestly.

despite this, dean huffed, pulling himself from the driver’s seat and pretended like each step towards you didn’t send a stabbing pain up his leg, settling into a ball of uncertainty and anxiety at the base of his back.

sam stood in front of dean, knocking delicately on your door. they’d arrived quite late. dean found solace in sam going in first, as if sam was protecting him for once.

the door creeped open slowly, and dean was glad you were careful about it. “sam,” you smiled up at him, letting your eyes soak in the way he’d aged over the years. you’d never seen him in person, but he still looked like the little boy dean would show you pictures of as he reminisced about being in locked in crappy motels and eating dry cereal three times a day. despite the fondness in dean’s voice as he would recall these moments, they always left a sour taste in your mouth. once again displaying the neglect they’d each received from their father. you hated the man, and that was ultimately drove dean away. 

“hi,” sam smiled as he said your name, filled with glee to be meeting you for the first time. he truly hoped this would be good for dean. you were the only person dean had ever truly loved outside of his family, in sam’s opinion. the only partner he would ever talk about with a smile on his face, and a miniscule of regret in his tone.

your smile faltered, but your eyes had a small gleam in them as you turned your attention to dean. “hi, dean,” you pretty much whispered, further opening the door to let them in, but never really looking dean in the face. dean pressed his lips together and turned up the corners of them, in what he would call a smile, but anyone else would roll their eyes at the attempt.

“i didn’t mean to bother you guys,” you started as everyone settled into the living room. you were in your reading chair and the brothers took up your couch. you couldn’t help but wish this view was more familiar.

“i used to think you were crazy,” sam chuckled as you gestured to dean, “i mean, whispering to john about ghosts and werewolves and such on the phone. i was never sure to make of it, i chocked it up to some weirdo piece of media you guys were wayyy too involved with,” dean knew you were masking something with humor. a skill you both used in situations where you were uncomfortable, one he’d helped you master.

that was even more apparent when you shifted your gaze downwards and wiggled a little in your seat, “but i saw one. i think i saw one, i mean. it was odd,” you trailed off as you brought your gaze back up, meeting dean’s eyes for the first time since he’d arrived.

“what happened?” and he speaks, you thought. you chose to ignore the protective edge to dean’s voice and pulled your gaze away from him. he was here to help you and your friend, nothing more, nothing less.

“i was, um,” you shifted uncomfortably, again, “at my friend’s house. her brother had passed recently. i thought i was dreaming or something the first we saw him. he was normal, like he had been right before he passed. my friend thought it was cool, i mean, she had her brother back. but last time, just a few nights ago, it was different.”

“how?” dean’s deep voice carried, already knowing where this was going. spirits that stick around get angry. that’s a simple fact.

“he was like, mean, i guess? like things were being thrown at us and he screamed. it was so odd.”

“and you didn’t think something was wrong when you started seeing her dead brother?” sam deadpanned, asking the million dollar question. dean glared at him, not liking the tone he was speaking to you with. “c’mon man, if someone we cared about’s ghost started popping up, salting and burning their bones might not be the first thing on our minds, either,” dean hushed him.

your eyebrows furrowed, “what?” sam hit dean with a head tilt, one that said nice going, dude, without having to say anything. 

“when there’s a spirit they’re usually attached to something that’s keep them from, um, moving on,” sam explained. “commonly, it is their bones. was your friend’s brother buried?” you shook your head, “they cremated him.”

“does your friend have something of his? something he cared about?” dean asked. “yeah, she kept a couple of his little league trophies. and his journal, even though she swore she’d never read it.”

sam and dean engaged in another non-verbal conversation before shifting their attention back to you. sam was the one who spoke, “i think we’re gonna need that journal.”

you weren’t sure exactly what went down in your friend’s bedroom while sam and dean were in there and you and her were sitting comfortably in the impala. you’d seen this beautiful car every time john would pull up to pick up dean, but had never seen the inside of it. it was nicer than you had pictured. 

“you should be all set,” sam informed your friend, walking her back into her house. you leaned against the driver side door, pressing your arms to your side, drawing in all of the warmth you could.

dean, who was standing a respectable amount of steps away from you, also leaning against the side of the car, noticed your slight shiver. he moved without thinking, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. you glanced at him, puzzled by his action, but putting it on regardless. no words were exchanged. 

you tried to ignore how comforting his scent was.

“let’s get you home,” dean mumbled as sam approached the car. you nodded, moving to climb in behind him. 

“i’m gonna grab some food,” sam smiled at dean, pointing at the flickering lights of the diner a short walk away from where dean parked in front of your building. dean just nodded. then, he sped up his steps so he could catch up to you and walk you to your apartment.  

“thank you,” you smiled at dean for the first time in years as you leaned against your door frame. dean shrugged, “it’s what we do.”

you nodded and a beat of silence passed between the two of you. it was comfortable, just for a moment. then, you remembered how sam was the one who answered your call.

“you ignored my call,” you observed, sadly. after everything, you had still thought dean would care about you, worry about you, even.

“yeah, i,” dean cleared his throat, contemplating what excuse to come up with. if he went with one, it would be the first time he ever truly lied to you. sure, he’d withheld information, but he had never flat out lied to you. so, he decided to go with the truth, “i was scared.”

dean winchester, admitting he was scared. someone call the presses. a world-changing admission had just been spoken.

“of?” you pressed, knowing you were towing the line. dean didn’t answer, just met your gaze with a stone-cold stare. one that told you everything you needed to know. he was scared those feelings hadn’t gone away. that he hadn’t buried them with the worst memories of his dad, his mother’s death, and his time spent in hell. he was scared that he couldn’t run from his past anymore, that he’d be slapped in face with what ifs and could’ve beens.

and, rightfully so. 

dean could feel every fiber of his being screaming, no, crying out for you. crying out for you to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him all of the things he’d been through were over and done with and he is safe and he is home. all he wanted was to stay here with you. to be selfish for once in his fucking life and just stay. even if it was for just a night. 

you were the one who cleared his throat, “it’s late, dean” please stay, it’s not smart to drive tired, he wished you’d add.

“yeah, i should go,” dean nodded, but made no effort to make his way to the stairs of your building.

after an intense battle in your mind, one between your rational side and your emotional side, one that you’d been fighting since you found dean’s phone number on a crusty sticky note in your desk drawer, you said, “you guys could stay here, the couch is pretty comfortable and it’s been a long night.”

dean’s eyes shifted to his shoes, a small smile crossing his face at your offer. everything he wanted and everything he knew he couldn’t have in one sentence. “no, we should get back.” he responded, nodding in the direction of his car. “more ghosts to get rid of.”

you nodded, “goodnight, dean.” he didn’t answer, just sent you a sad smile before turning towards the stairs. 

i hang on every line. i'd do it all again. i guess i just feel better around you.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

I see so many post constantly degrading Nesta for being so nasty and mean and ungrateful; for using Rhysand’s money and staying on his land (not for free I might add) while refusing to play nice or care.

But isn’t that the bare minimum of what he owes her?

The IC and Feyre dragged Nesta and Elain into their world by manipulating them using their guilt over letting Feyre hunt for those 5 years when they were severely impoverished. Nevermind that Feyre doesn’t know how to cook or clean so someone had to have done that, or that someone was bound to do physical labor anyway. But I digress—the IC gave Nesta so much shit for refusing to be Feyre and Elain’s mom, for not being the one to take care of them by any means necessary (which we know would’ve been through marriage).

So the sisters agreed to help with the Human Queens, putting a major target on their backs. The IC sent away their staff and guards, promised to leave protection that failed miserably. Feyre told Ianthe about her sisters; Rhysand let the Attor live knowing that Hybern would have their location. So the sisters were taken—kidnapped and dragged and thrown into something that turned them into something they weren’t.

Murdered and tortured for however eternity it took to melt the flesh off their bones, for their bones to grow and lengthen, and magic to flow through their veins. There’s another word for this, you know? Nonconsensual body modification. And just because they came out young and beautiful and immortal, everyone around them expected them to be grateful. But what is there to be grateful for, if you were Nesta and Elain? Ripped from their finally stable human lives and love? Forced to join a war that had nothing to do with them until it eventually fucked them over too?

As far as I’m concerned, and how it should’ve been if SJM wasn’t so far up feysand’s ass, whatever debt owed by Nesta and Elain to Feyre was repaid in full when they were murdered over Feyre and the IC’s actions.

Elain came out of that Cauldron catatonic for months. Nesta came out something other, even for a Fae, and dripping with so much power that she made High Lords quake at the sight of her and that damned finger. And in order to spare Elain from further suffering, Nesta took the brunt of their missions and scrying, repressed and depressed as she was. Yet it was still them who killed the King of Hybern, effectively ending the war.

The bare minimum Rhysand owed them afterwards was a fucking lifetime of peace, and to be left alone if they wished with enough money to make a king cry. But that wasn’t enough for him was it? Feyre was pushy because she wanted Nesta around even when Nesta preferred to be literally anywhere else. I can understand that to an extent as a younger sister myself. But she went about it all wrong, and let her mate do what he does best: be a complete and utter bitch.

And if getting sexually assaulted and repeatedly nearly dying finding the Troves for the NC still wasn’t enough to repay whatever fucking ‘debt’ Rhysand and his stans seem to still think she owes (despite the dying and kingslaying), Nesta gave up a significant portion of herself to save Feyre, Nyx, and Rhysand. And despite his gratefulness, he still couldn’t help himself from berating her horribly behind Feyre’s back, even when Feyre herself has told him repeatedly to lay the fuck off her sister.

So, NO. Nesta shouldn’t owe squat to the NC and its shitty High Lord. Pretty sure at this point, he owes her more.

[one-chaotic-bee]

Batfam x TMA au

Bruce - Avatar of the Dark

Bruce was first marked by the Darkness when he fell into the tunnels under Wayne Manor as a child. (In canon this is when he developed a fear of bats) He doesn’t really accept the Darkness til after his parents die, after that the Darkness is the only place he’s safe from the eyes of the media. Bruce truly becomes an avatar shortly after becoming Batman though. Throughout his life he was also touched by the Desolation and the Web. (The Web tried to claim him too but the Darkness beat it to it)

Powers: His suit is literally made of shadow and he can bring shadows anywhere he goes. Lights also tend to mysteriously turn off when he’s around.

Bro is never going to be able to beat the vampire allegation now. 

Dick - Avatar of the Hunt

Dick was basically marked from the day he was born. Both because of his potential future as a talon and his never ending drive to be the best at everything he does. (I fully believe that Dick’s toxic perfectionism came from the circus not Bruce, after all, we saw what happened if even one mistake occurs during a performance) Dick would fully become an avatar after his parents died. He could already hear the Hunt calling to him before their deaths, and afterwards it was the Hunt that gave Dick the ability to break out of Juvie and the Manor to find and kill Tony Zucco. It was during this that Dick was fully turned. Throughout his life he was also touched by the Stranger. (I thought about the Flesh as well since one of its characteristics is objectification and the fear of SA probably falls under the Flesh but that felt a little to real, you can add it in if you want but it kinda feels like walking in a minefield)

Powers: He has enhanced senses, speed, stamina. He’s able to see in the dark. When he’s pissed/stressed/agitated his grows claws, fangs, and his eyes start glowing yellow. He also has a were-owl like form has only ever come out once, when he killed the Joker. (In this au he stays dead because Dick didn’t beat him to death, he ate him. The rogues have been terrified of Dick ever since.)

Barbara: Avatar of the Eye

Babs was kinda like the Gertrude Robinson of the family. Constantly around the different entities but never letting one get to her. That changed after she became Oracle. At first when she felt it she was horrified and quit being a hero to try to avoid it. But she couldn’t bring herself to abandon her second family like that and willingly became an avatar of the Eye to help them. She was also touched by the Web shortly after becoming Oracle.

Powers: She is able to see through every camera in all of Gotham and is also able to see through the eyes of the gargoyles around the city. Sometimes when all of the knowledge she’s absorbing becomes too much for her, she ducks underneath Bruce’s cape because the Darkness is only place she can get a break from the Eye.

Jason: Avatar of the Desolation

Jason wasn’t actually claimed by an entity until he died, but while in the Lazarus pit he was claimed by the Desolation. Bruce and Dick had always told him that he did not want to be an avatar, no matter how cool it might look from the outside. Jason never took their warnings seriously until he was turned himself. Now he knows how horrible it is and is horrified by the prospect of anyone else having to go through the process. When he sees Tim as Robin he makes it his mission to scare the kid away before an entity can claim him. (Little does he know that Tim had been turned long before he was ever Robin) Throughout his life Jason was also touched by the Buried and the End.

Powers: Jason burns anything he touches, the angrier he gets the hotter his skin burns. When he’s happy he’s warmer than normal but not painfully so. But when he’s angry his blood literally starts to boil in his veins as a green fire that burns in his chest heats up. Making his eyes glow green and a green glow to come from his chest and the back of his throat.

(Dick uses his body heat as an excuse to cuddle in the winter, Jason acts like he hates it but the fact that Dick’s skin isn’t melting off his bones when they touch says otherwise)

Tim: Avatar of the Lonely

Tim had only been free of the Lonely one time in his life. The day he went to Haly’s circus as child and meet Dick for the first time. After that thinking about that day was the only thing that gave him any relief from it. He was sure that if he meet Dick again it would make the Lonely go away (if only for a few minutes) and he was actually right, however by the time he really meet Dick again he has already been a full avatar of the Lonely for a few years. During his life Tim was also touched by the Eye.

Powers: Tim has the ability to trap people in a pocket dimension for as long as he wants. Time moves differently in these pocket dimensions so even though they are typically only in there for a few minutes, it feels like years. The people trapped also don’t age while in there so that they can really feel every second passing. These pocket dimensions normally take the form of a foggy open field with nothing around but it can change to be anything really, the only thing that is consistent is the fog. Tim is also able to conjure fog around him in the real world and the temperature tends to drop a few degrees when he’s around.

Steph: Avatar of the Spiral

Steph doesn’t even know when she became an avatar, though her best guess that it happened sometime after becoming Spoiler. She actually is pretty okay with the whole avatar of an unknowable horror thing and she actually kinda vibes with Micheal and Helen. Her first encounter with the Spiral though happened when she was a kid and had first run away from her father. She had saw a door that she didn’t recognize and ran in trying to hide in from her father. Instead of being afraid of the endless doors and hallways, she was just happy to be safe from her father. The Spiral basically did the ‘who is this sassy lost child’ meme before deciding that Steph was its sassy lost child. No other entities have tried to touch Steph, the Spiral wouldn’t let them.

Powers: Steph has the same powers as Micheal and Helen do, however she still looks mostly human. Lacking the knife fingers and extreme height the others have. Her body does glitch sometimes though. She can have the full avatar of the Spiral look that Micheal and Helen do but it only comes out in extreme situations, like Dick’s owl beast form. Steph, like Tim, will lock people in the Spiral for a while before letting them out.

Cass: Avatar of the Stranger

David Cain had known about the Entities before Cass was born and when she was a child he did everything in his power to make her an avatar of the Slaughter, it did not work and all of his efforts only made her the perfect person to be claimed by the Stranger. The Stranger had turned Cass in to something more resembling a life sized porcelain doll than a human. Even giving her ball joints, painted lips, and glass eyes. The Stranger had also given her a new voice box after David Cain cut her vocal cords. After becoming a bat she was also touched by the Darkness.

Powers: Cass might look like she’s made of porcelain but she is not fragile, quite the opposite actually. She’s incredibly strong and durable. And she’s able to tank a lot of damage that the others can’t. Cass is also able to change out her voice box so that she can sound like anyone she wants. The other bats always make sure that Cass has any voice box she could possibly ever need.

Damian: Avatar of the Extinction

Damian would not have become an avatar of the Extinction if his mother and grandfather hadn’t forced it on him. Both Ra’s and Talia are also avatars of the Extinction and they believed that Damian needed to be one too. If left alone he would have probably been an avatar of the Corruption, however that didn’t happen. He has also been touched by the End and the Corruption (obviously).

Powers: Unlike the others, Damian doesn’t have any powers that are useful in a fight. Instead if he concentrates on a certain species, he’s able to see what the world would look like if that species went extinct.

Duke: Avatar of the Darkness

Duke is a special case when it comes to Darkness avatars. He doesn’t hide from the light (obviously man works day shift). Instead his meta gene makes both light and dark bend to him. This makes him an incredible choice to be an avatar for the Darkness. Duke’s ability to see into other timelines had also gotten the Extinction’s attention but the Darkness suited him better. Throughout his life, Duke has also been touched by the Desolation and the Extinction.

Powers: Dukes powers don’t actually change from his canon ones, but he does get the ability to blind people.

[miss-musings]

When I say S3 Crosshair was speed-running Hunter’s Dad arc from S1-2, this is what I’m talking about:

They’re the only CF99 members Omega has a one-on-one conversation with in 1.01 "Aftermath"

Both help her escape danger at an evil cloning facility, thanks to unseen assistance from Nala Se (1.01 and 3.03)

Both make a choice to go back for her instead of securing their own freedom (1.01 and 3.04)

Both initially try to send her away, reasoning she'll be better off without them in her lives (1.02 and 1.15)

Both initially tell her to stay away from them for her own sake, but she persists and eventually wins them over (1.01 and 3.01)

Both are mistaken as her dad by other characters (2.13 and 3.04)

Due to Omega's influence/impact on their lives, both of them become open to trying new things. For Hunter, it's things like treasure-hunting and settling down on Pabu. (2.05 and 2.13) For Crosshair, it's things like bribing/hustling people instead of shooting them, and meditating for peace of mind. (3.04 and 3.08)

In S1, Hunter and Omega average one meaningful one-on-one conversation per episode. In S3, Crosshair and Omega average one meaningful one-on-one conversation per episode.

Parallel scenes of her copying their body language, facial expressions and personal quirks (1.01 and 3.06)

Parallel scenes of them checking on her physical and emotional well-being after she’s been in danger (1.09 and 3.07)

Parallel scenes of them watching helplessly as Omega is taken away by an Imperial ship (2.16 and 3.11)

Parallel scenes of Hemlock torturing them after they tried to protect Omega (2.14 and 3.15). FUN FACT: Hunter and Crosshair are the only two CF99 members Hemlock ever talks to.

Parallel scenes of Omega convincing them to let her endanger herself for the greater mission of finding Tantiss: “I need to do this, Hunter” (3.05) VS. “Focus on the bigger mission, Crosshair.” (3.11) In both cases, they are initially unwilling to go along with her plan bc they fear for her safety, but they both ultimately agree to support her brave and selfless decision.

Parallel scenes of Omega purposely endangering herself by attacking her captor, but she has complete confidence that Hunter and Crosshair will save her in 2.10 and 3.15, respectively.

Parallel scenes of Omega absolutely gagging them: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?” (1.12) VS. “I never gave up on you, did I?” (3.09) FUN FACT: Hunter and Crosshair are even sitting in the same seat on the Marauder in both scenes!!

As someone else pointed out here, parallel scenes/lines of them aiming their guns at someone threatening to take Omega away and saying, “Not happening.” (1.13 and 3.09)

Parallel lines like: “You’re wasting your time — they’ll never turn her over” VS. “Omega’s not going anywhere with you.” (2.14 and 2.16)

Hunter when he tries to send Omega with Cut and Suu: “You have to go, Omega. It’s for your own good.” VS. Crosshair when he tries to have her captured and sent off Kamino: “It’s for her own good, and yours.” (1.02 and 1.15)

Hunter when Cad Bane is after her: “Omega, get behind me.” (1.08) VS. Crosshair when CX-2 and Imperial troopers are after her: “Stick by my side and stay down.” (3.07)

Hunter telling the others to leave him on Daro and Omega protesting in 1.14 VS. Crosshair telling the others to leave while he fights CX-2 and Omega protesting in 3.07. (And, in both cases, she literally had to be pulled away by other “co-parent” in Echo and Hunter, respectively.)

Hunter made a “deal with the devil” in the Devaronian matriarch to try to find Omega in 3.02. Then Crosshair made a deal with a different type of devil in Rampart to find her in 3.12. (And they were both 1,000% done with their respective devils: “We heard your syndicate had the connections needed to find the Imperials’ base, and since we’ve upheld our end of the bargain, now it’s your turn.” VS “We got you off the planet, now tell us where Tantiss is.”)

The first time Hunter ever fully hugs Omega is in 3.04, after she escapes Tantiss the first time. (To clarify: she had hugged him a few times before, but he hadn't really hugged her back.) VS. The first time Crosshair ever hugs Omega is in 3.15 after she escapes Tantiss the second time.

Crosshair telling Hunter in 3.05, "You let Omega be taken to Tantiss. She went through what she did because you failed" ... only for Crosshair to be in the EXACT same situation himself later in S3.

Also, let’s never forget that moment in 3.07 when Crosshair went full Helicopter Parent™️, and Omega said, “You’re as bad as Hunter!” Like, even Omega thought Crosshair was turning into a dad! 😂

Also, after he fully reintegrates into the family at the end of 3.05, Crosshair basically becomes Hunter's "co-parent."

There are several scenes where they are paired together to talk about Omega's safety or something, while Wrecker is elsewhere. (And even when Wrecker is there, the shots tend to focus more on Hunter and Crosshair, like when they find Batcher barking on the beach in 3.09.)

Of course, this all culminates in the final confrontation with Hemlock on the bridge. I don't think Hunter or Crosshair could've navigated that situation alone, especially given their injuries and how high-stakes it was. They HAD to do it together, which has been their approach since 3.05: "Not alone. We'll do it together."

(UPDATE: I go over some of these points more in my CrossDad Episode Rankings post. Give it a read, if you haven’t already!)

[talesofpheonixdrop]

Hunt down the good in me.

Garroth version.

This was a request from amaizing fan fic writer @starhvney where the reader is injured taking a blow for Laurance.

G/n Reader

Warning: Gore, nothing too crazy but the reader is injured, and I tell you about it, as well as gore being mentioned with the people who ambushed you. Shadow knight Laurance goes on a rampage, hurt comfort both in the literal and metaphorical sense lmfao.

Tysm for the requests! I am always open for more as long as my inbox is open!

Please enjoy!

You really should have expected it you suppose. The bandits had gotten used to easy life outside the remains of Pheonix Drop, raiding supply carts and merchants on their way to or from the small settlement. Obviously they weren't going to leak new arrivals with much bigger equipment than the rest of the inhabitants arriving out of nowhere, much LESS better equipped people fixing the village walls and gates. You suppose you expected them to be more... subtle... cowardly? In their approach to it. Oh how wrong you were.

Thank Irene Laurance carried his greatsword at all times because the closest thing to a weapon *you* currently had was a pick axe to work on the stone parts of the wall, sure sure it would suck ALOT to catch a pickaxe to the... well, anywhere, but it's nothing compared to an actual intended weapon. Laurance took the lead, telling you to stand back the moment the first bandit stepped out of the trees. And you QUICKLY realized just why Laurance was on the potential Jury of Nine list. But at some point, no matter the skill level, numbers can override it.

About 34 bandits had come out of the forest, a handful of the smart ones fled when they saw Laurances sheer skill with a greatsword. You were no expert but you knew that the great sword was one of the more difficult weapons to wield, it's huge size made it's attacks devastating but it required alot of effort to use it, once you were committed to a swing you were just that, committed using this sword was something you had to put the whole momentum of your body into. Apparently, a bandit had figured that out to, as time seems too slow, you watch a masked bandit dual wielding daggers preparing to strike just as Laurance is trapped in a strike against 3 bandits. You can't let this happen! If Laurance gets heavily injured, then it would be pitifully easy for them to take you out being unarmed and then break in and do who knows what to the village! Well... at least that's what you're going to say when Laurance inevitably chews you out for surging forward. Truth being that that you just... didn't want to see your love get hurt no matter the extent.

You throw yourself between Laurance and the bandits blade, adrenaline running through your system before swinging the pick axe with all your might at the bandits head, having to tense your whole body to keep from a full body recoil at the feelings running through you of it tearing through skin and cracking bone the bandit letting out a gurgling cut off shout.

You honestly don't even feel the dagger enter and lodge into your side, turning your head to the side quickly to find Laurance already staring over his shoulder to you, breath held and eyes wide. You couldn't tell, trapped looking into his eyes as shock turned to a lightless rage, but everyone else had stopped fighting as the forest went *silent* no rustling of leaves or chirping of birds, the only sound now to be heard was a reverberating growl from Laurance. Smoke billowing out of the sides of his mouth as his form starts growing much larger.

His scream tears through the forest as he grows he reaches forward, grabbing the nearest bandit by the head and slaming them on the ground with a sickening crack. Fully Shadow knight as he springs forward blood red sword viciously and furiously putting an end to the bandits. You can hardly take it all in, not only with the speed and complexity of his movements, but the smell of sulfur and second dose of adrenaline that rushed through you when he turned, the responce of a injured prey animal desperately trying to run *just a little more* left you lightheaded. But you ignore it, not only because it would only agitate him further, but also.... it was Laurance, the sweet, kind, and thoughtful man you fell in love with, and you weren't going to let your body convince you he was a threat.

Some bandits had tried to run... they didn't get far. Laurance didn't spare even a single one, the forest around you stained red as far as the eye could see, covered in mangled corpses. Laurance stands over what was once... a bandit. Body eerily still as smoke whisps off of his armor. You want to give him a moment to cool down, literally and metaphorically. But the adrenaline has completely left you, and you are more and more aware of the searing pain in your side. No one tells you how much being stabbed feels like fire.

"L-laurance?" Is all you can hoarsely mutter, blood dribbling from your lips before falling to your knees. The shadow knight wips around red eyes wide "Y/N!" He shouts as if snapped out of a trance he runs sliding to his knees to your side.

"I-its okay, you ok-kay don't talk don't talk, I'm here I have you" he rambles quickly, voice trembling as he babbles out reassurances that seem more for himself than you, as he harshly tears at his cape, pain scorching up your side as he ties it to the dagger securing it to your side. You don't know what comes after this.... but you know that just in case you want...

"Love.. you.." You mummer voice hardly a whisper causing him to jump eyes back to that Marble blue, tears falling down his cheeks quickly.

"I Love you, I love you so fucking much, you have to be fine, your fine. We will say it again tomorrow, okay??" He stammers out, starting to pick you up... but your world goes black.

Everything after is a strange.. choppy blur. Laurance held you close to his chest as he ran to Donna's home. Laurance would shout and fight anytime someone tried to convince him to leave your side. And then... you fully fell unconscious.

There's a dull throbbing throughout your entire body, and you're thirsty. You can barely let out a little groan with how dry your throat is. You scrunch up your face and move to tighten your hands into fists before you prop yourself up, but you end up squeezing the hand in yours.

"Y/N!" Laurance shoots up, holding your hand tightly with both of his. You open your eyes to be met with Laurances wide baby blues, tears fulling his eyes as he quickly leans down to give you a heart achingly tender kiss. Cupping your cheek with one hand, you raise one of your own to do the same, ignoring your protesting muscles.

"Thank Irene" he whispers forehead pressed against your own, his tears fall onto your own cheeks, before you work to brush them away.

He will demand to know what you were thinking later... right now he just wants to bask in *you*.