#LOVE putting him through it. and by it i mean unspeakable horrors

[notbecauseofvictories]

I think I saw you shared a list of books you’d read a couple years ago and was it you who read something like 350+ books in a single year? If so that’s absolutely remarkable and I’d love to see a list of top ten (or twenty or whatever number) of books you’ve read this year that you recommend

Don't be ridiculous, I only read 303 books in 2021! That's much more reasonable than 350. And I've read fewer and fewer each year since---this year I don't think I'm going to crack 50, though I still have a couple days.

Still, always happy to talk about what I enjoyed. Books are listed in vaguely chronological order, though I make no promises.

Patricia Wants to Cuddle, Samantha Allen

I've mentioned this book before, but essentially I put in the library request solely for the improbability of the premise---The Bachelor heads to the PNW and encounters Bigfoot? Fortunately, it delivered on that promise magnificently. A breezy and delightfully gruesome little novel with a bodycount.

Are You My Mother?, Alison Bechdel

I didn't viscerally connect with this one as much as "Fun Home" but I think it might be because it's…closer to the bone for me. When Bechdel writes about the longing for a mother that can't be answered, pulling back, pleasing, an anger that becomes unspeakable, re-routed to anxiety…it's uh. well it's churned up the silt, let's put it that way.

Greener Pastures, Michael Wehunt

I love short stories, but finding those authors who hit the right notes unerringly, in such a brief space, can be tricky sometimes. Wehunt is the rare exception, strange and unique as a writer, dream-like in his descriptions and images. "October Film Haunt: Under the House" was my favorite, though I can't say for sure whether it's because I recognized the framing device or it was just fun to read…

Running with Scissors, A Wolf at the Table, Lust & Wonder, Augusten Burroughs

I read these out of order (Lust & Wonder first, then the other two) but even so, I was wildly impressed. Lust & Wonder was a revelation; I stumbled on it in the library and walked out with it the same day. No wonder people tell you to read his books, he's got such a clear-eyed meanness, an interesting sort of canniness to his depiction of himself, the people in his life…it really does demonstrate that there is no such thing as a boring life, just a boring narrator. But if Lust & Wonder is Burroughs at the height of his power, Running with Scissors and Wolf at the Table are the necessary steps up to it. More unfinished, more raw---a litany of horrors, not even leavened by that same canny, mean humor that flashes through L&W. It's just horrifically sad to watch every person around this kid fail him, leave, or both; terrifying and unexpectedly funny and yet tender as a sucking wound.

The Princess Bride, William Goldman

I picked this up entirely by chance and ended up being deeply charmed. I don't know what I was expecting---well, no, that's not true, I was expecting the film. But what I got instead was something almost real, pleasantly rough around the edges as Goldman's caustic narration winds its way from Florin to the machinations of S. Morgenstern's lawyers, to his struggles with raising his son. (One of the funniest scenes was when he goes to meet S. Morgenstern's lawyer, and the ravishingly beautiful attorney becomes a horrible old hag the more she talks about how he won't be granted a license.) I was afraid the book would be twee, but at the center of it is a pure (if slightly embarrassing, but truth generally is outside of Florin) love of stories, and wanting stories told.

In the Woods, The Likeness, Broken Harbor, Tana French

As I've said before, I started reading this series because I was traveling to Ireland and thought it seemed appropriate. I didn't go too deep into French's oeuvre, mostly because I couldn't shake wanting the books to be urban fantasy rather than gripping psychological portraits with a decidedly noir sensibility. Still, the books themselves are taut and fascinating, the portraits they paint of the Dublin Murder Squad (all of whom are staggering, wounded in their own ways) and the blighted, post-Celtic Tiger Ireland, are deeply compelling. Also, I do still think The Likeness is a perfect answer to The Secret History.

Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century, Kim Fu

There's something truly powerful in a short story that doesn't answer any questions or provide you with any sort of guidance---just walks in and rearranges your photographs so they're slightly off-kilter, leaves you with that destabilization. It's almost spiritual, that sense. In particular, there's a story in the collection about the world's sense of taste disappearing; a woman begins crafting art installations to try and recreate the experience of eating a pear, what your favorite family meal tasted like. Short stories are like that.

Perilous Times, Thomas D. Lee

I was surprised by this one. I know that's how I've described half the books above, but truly, this surprised me---not so much the rising action or plot (there's a sleeping king, knights around a table, a dragon) but I loved the setting so much. The depiction of a slightly-futuristic UK as drowning land sold off for parts; figures like immortal spymaster Marlowe coexisting with reborn Lancelot and Kay; the fay hovering around the edges; and then just….all the factions, the Welsh royalists and men's rights group propped up by military contractors; environmental activists, the references to the hodgepodge that existed in the 4th century AD too. More than anything, the novel conveyed how Britain's always been a place of change, the movement of people and permeable barriers, and that more than anything worked for me. (Also, it's a small thing but I loved how the Camelot crew translated modern concepts and objects into their language and knowledge of the world. It was always shown as hesitation rather than total shock, and I found it both moving and persuasive.)

A Cup of Salt Tears, Isabel Yap

I read this in a series of speculative novellas, which impressed on me yet again how hard it must be to write novellas. (Last year, one of my least favorite books was a novella; I still think about it with joyful hate.) However, Yap takes care to focus on single, brief narrative, concerns herself solely with the very small yet very significant issue of a woman, her husband, who and how she loves, wrapped up together with a kappa. Excellent, haunting.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022

[hyeahgaku]

The Seba brothers are precious; trying to protect and save each other in their own ways.. it shows their bond is actually real strong since they're willing to go lengths to keep the other safe.

Natsuki's willingness to fulfil his father's dream by offering himself to go to Al-Kamar. A place of possibly unimaginable horrors that Slur's team know too well. Assumingly Natsuki also knows whatever the individuals sent there were subjected to, then all that he was doing was so that he could spare his beloved younger brother from unspeakable pain or torture. As well as further trauma to a still-developing kid. Something that their deadbeat of a father fail to realise.. So young, so quiet & stoic, yet still so thoughtful, caring & sweet. I bet young Natsuki understands that Mafuyu is still young & hasn't had his own ambitions yet so I'm certain he's making way for his lil bro to enjoy his childhood more & be relieved from the burden that their dumb dad was abt to shoulder on the poor youngling. Honestly, Natsuki's actions in chap 145 is enough to reflect how much of a doting, protective & selfless big brother he is. Young Mafuyu may not have realised it when he was upset with his aniki, but Natsuki's actions are proof of it. I bet that bladed shoe was designed specially for him cuz Natsuki knows how much of a clean freak his lil bro is.

Meanwhile, Mafuyu deeply cares about Natsuki too in his own way. And he's also very supportive of his aniki's inventions, like he's the only one in the family to do so. On top of that, young Mafuyu even have faith in his aniki, he believes that Natsuki is capable of achieving his dream in future cuz he knows that Natsuki is talented & will be successful in his goal. And Mafuyu has a really big heart thou he was more reckless in his plan to save his brother. Young Mafuyu's main aim is to free Natsuki from their deadbeat father's unhealthy obsession so that his aniki can pursue his biggest dream. And Mafuyu's goal to free & help his aniki is so strong that he is willing to do whatever & by any means necessary. Even if that involves putting his own life on the line, so long as he can make sure that Natsuki achieves his ambition of becoming a professional weapons maker, then Mafuyu really thinks that all these efforts are worth it. What reckless selflessness!

How young Mafuyu is able to realise the important of supporting someone's dreams, or in his case right now is to see through that Natsuki can continue to pursue & achieve his dreams, that is beyond amazing & I tip my hat to him. A little kid versus a full-grown adult. Likewise with Natsuki -as an older brother, you should protect your younger sibling & that's what he does. Such brotherly love. PROTECT! These kids deserve only the best & also doting parents who would give the world to them, respect & support their goals to the ends of Earth.

Seriously, zero respect for Mr Seba for oppressing his kids to be who HE want them to be just for the sake of getting back at those mfs who insulted his family. Saving his own face matters more than ensuring his own children's safety, protecting their well-being and encouraging them to pursue their own paths & dreams. Natsuki & Mafuyu don't deserve the toxic environment they grew up in, nor whatever he has put them through. Their mental & emotional healths... 😭 Dammit Mr Seba how could you even look at your two boys in their eyes after all that and still see yourself as their parent..? I hope there's at least an ounce of guilt now, thou i doubt. So I hope karma hits you back, aye. Hit you hard, yeah. Congrates, you have proven yourself worthy to be placed among the Worst Manga/Anime Fathers list.

[storkmuffin]

I wanted to share a little of my perspective on John Silver. I am by no means a Silver stan and honestly, I didn’t really care for him either way (hate him or love him) in my first watch. Through my second (I’m now on both a third and fourth watch simultaneously, it’s complicated) watch, my feelings towards him changed somewhat. He’s still not one of my favourite characters, and by no means does he even compare to Flint in my mind, but I really think painting him as entirely bad is an oversimplification of his character.

Black Sails is, at its core, a show about incredibly complicated characters, all of whom have been through hell, and who are coping with their trauma in different ways. We never get Silver’s backstory which, to be fair, I was also mad about, but we do get hints at it. We know that he started off as a member of a merchant crew, and not a high ranking one which, at the very least, implies that he was not from a privileged background and likely never had any stable employment or family support (those who did were rarely enlisted into these merchant crews). The interpretation of the few bits of insight we do get into his childhood that I favour the most are the ones that suggest that him stating that all his backstory taught him was that the world was a place of unspeakable horrors (or something similar, I can’t remember or find the exact quote) is true—that so much of what we see him do is an effort to distance himself as much as possible from some trauma that he cannot bring himself to think about or disclose to anyone, first by doing everything he can to remain as independent as possible, then by making himself as necessary as possible. He cannot reveal what has happened for fear that speaking of it will make it more real, and possibly even bring its effects back into his life. It sure as hell isn’t a healthy coping mechanism and it definitely hurts those around him, but the same is true for so many of the other characters. Flint, in season one, kills Gates to continue his war against civilisation, one that hasn’t even started, because Gates calls him out on his recklessness (and was right, the battle that Flint killed Gates in the hopes of continuing ended with the Walrus wrecked and the crew decimated and stranded), but, in that moment, the audience feels for Flint, even though we don’t yet know why he’s so dedicated to doing what he’s doing, because, even as he’s killing possibly one of the most “good” characters, we feel sorry for him.

Silver’s backstory is one rooted in loneliness and pain. He starts with being unable to trust anyone then, as he starts to bond with the crew, they start to die off alarmingly quickly. Even in season two, he becomes important to the crew and vice versa, and this process is accelerated by the loss of his leg. I think this acceleration is also worth noting, as it puts him in a place of dependence before he would have been comfortable to do so, before he has learned that he can be vulnerable with someone and they won’t necessarily immediately hurt him. His refusal to allow his leg to heal properly and to let people help him stems from this wariness of vulnerability. Sure, it’s not a healthy attitude, and it does hurt other people, but, especially given the general attitudes towards disability at the time, I can at least understand it. In the eyes of his society, and, therefore, in the eyes of John Silver, disability = vulnerability = weakness = letting others hurt you, so he becomes consumed by the goal of making sure he seems as strong as possible. There’s also a heavy dose of toxic masculinity mixed in here, but, again, as I see it, it’s an understandable (if not excusable) result of what he’s experienced so far. The only physically disabled character we see before Silver is Randall, who is nearly kicked off the crew and then killed (without being able to raise any kind of alarm or defend himself), which certainly isn’t a comfortable frame of reference for someone who has also now lost their leg.

Moving on to Silver’s position in the revolution, I think a lot of my interpretation of his role comes from knowing that Madi & Flint’s mission cannot succeed. Black Sails is, in many ways, quite intricately and accurately tied into the historical context of the time and, the fact is, that the golden age of piracy ended, slavery continued, the empire won out (at least for the next few centuries), and the prejudices that they were trying to fight continued.  By the historical context that is set in stone, Flint and Madi’s revolution could not have succeeded and, honestly, Black Sails shows this. Their ideas were good, as were their tactics, but they had no widespread support. Any support for Nassau had to come at the cost of the end of the revolution, and they had none of the numbers, weapons, money, ships, land, public support, or really anything that would have let them succeed. It’s a good fight, and that’s what hurts the most, because we as the audience want them to succeed but know that, historically, and even within the context of the show, they cannot. Silver sees this, and it definitely isn’t a good look being the only major character in that trio resisting this revolution, but he knows, as we must also know, that it is doomed to fail. He is not stopping it because he doesn’t care for the cause, he is stopping it because he knows that the sooner he stops it, the less likely it is that he will lose someone he cares about, has he has already done with countless members of the crew. He knows in stopping it that he will probably lose Madi, but he does it anyway, because he sees that, whether she lives, dies for nothing, or dies and becomes a martyr, the revolution will fail, and all that will be different is that she and countless others will have died. Again, this level of pragmatism does not look good on him, but between the dreams of Flint and Madi and the sacrifices they will make to try to attain the unattainable, it is incredibly necessary.

Honestly, I can’t fully argue this case without your knowledge of the last part of 4.10. It isn’t a tragedy; it isn’t just filled with a sense that it was all for nothing. At the bare minimum, there are some very cool Max moments. Please, even if you have to skip through all the Silver scenes, watch to the end.

Sorry for the essay :)

posting bc I'm very honored that you chose to write this in response to my unhinged ranting!

I don't have the spoons for a proper response and this deserves one so I will hopefully be able to write something coherent in response sometime soon. I didn't want to just leave this hanging!

[marshmallowprotection]

ive been thinking about this for a while, of if saeyoung mightve reacted differently if he didnt see saeran at the apartment. im sure he would have still been a bit stand offish, but at the same time more.. lighthearted? im not sure! id love to hear your thoughts though!

Hm... you know what, I've never considered this before.

What I mean to say is that if his brother isn't there, he's not going to have any idea as to what's being done behind the scenes. The entire reason why his world is shaken and why he reacts the way he does in the apartment is because the hacker is his brother.

That realization is what sends him on a TOTAL downward spiral to stop trusting those he's always trusted and see the world for what it is. A place where people are willing to lie to him in the name of what they think is the greater good.

His faith is broken, and the only one who’s able to pull him out of that place is you. You and your unwavering kindness are what help him believe it's not the end of the world even if it feels that way. He would not be forced to have a reckoning with himself if his brother wasn't revealed in that instance. It's hard for me to imagine how he would be in that situation.

Because, I JUST can't see Saeran not doing anything at that exact moment because he's the one who decided to go ahead and raid the apartment. That was his decision, not something Rika made for him, as shown in the VNM just before he leaves Magenta.

He wants to do everything in his power to take his brother down, and when he sees an opportunity to do it, he does it without a second thought. So, it's hard for me to rationalize a situation where he doesn't decide to raid the apartment to kidnap the player. But, on the off chance that he didn't initially invade the apartment, it's possible that he would change tactics and try to lock his brother and the player inside instead.

I don't know if he would consider remote detonation but maybe that could be something that comes up along the line.

I know this has nothing to do with what you asked, but I can't help but speculate. He wouldn't be able to ignore his brother being a real sitting duck in that situation. I just don't know what he would do differently if he didn't try to bust in through the window, but I can't see him leaving well enough alone. It's not something where he can ignore the itch.

The desire to get rid of his brother is strong and it's not something he can ignore. He can't ignore it because it's constantly buzzing in the back of his head no matter how much he wants to shake it off. The world would be a better place without the person who caused him to suffer like this and become apathetic, that's what he feels, so he's not going to ignore it regardless of how this plays out.

In regards to Saeyoung, yes, there will be a different response until I discern how the hell Unknown attacks.

The reason why he pushes you away in the first place is because he realizes that being close to him is a death sentence. His brother was put into unspeakable horror because of a choice he made, and he can't stomach the idea of that happening to you, too. But, if he is not pressed with that realization right away, sure, he might push you away for the sake of your safety, but I can't see him being as standoffish.

He hasn't been pushed into a corner with the trauma response we usually see, so what he does will not align with what you're used to seeing canonically.

There's already a little line between the two of you as you get closer, and it's one he tries not to think about because he wants to enjoy the moment. Even as you get closer to him at the beginning of the route, he doesn't hide that he can't get close to other people, but he keeps pushing that away since you make him feel alive. I think the two of you would dance between what's safe and what is it if he isn't having an existential crisis. You push his buttons, he pushes yours, and ultimately, it will culminate in a mess when the apartment goes to hell since I think it will do that no matter what.

This has to end in Unknown revealing himself. I don't know where, I don't know how, but it has to happen.

Or, maybe it doesn't have to happen at the apartment, maybe you may get to the end of the cycle and he reveals himself at the party. That would be an interesting turn of events. For you to be able to get close to Saeyoung without the expected path, only to have the party blow up in its face and him not only need to deal with the agency but with Mint Eye as well... is this me just excited at the idea of Unknown crashing the party in a fun outfit?

Yeah, but hey, you get something out of this, too.

Enjoying a slow dance with Saeyoung, dancing dangerously close to something romantic, only for a bomb to go off at the front of the gallery hall, not to endure anybody, but to draw attention to the one and only hacker. 

[lilredghost]

WIP Wednesday: "Who says I don't love you?"

Context: Obi-Wan has just found out a horrible truth about his marriage with Anakin. That is, his husband didn't actually propose because he wanted to-- he just thought he had to.

Recap:

“Not us,” Hera laughs. “The Freed all value our choice of a spouse rather dearly. I'm sure you can understand our hesitation to follow the Jedi tradition and marry for the sake of diplomacy.” Obi-Wan puts down his spoon, horror creeping up his throat. “The Je’daii have not practiced such a tradition for centuries, atleast. Tatooine was the one to write marriage into their negotiation terms.” Obi-Wan feels like he’s back in Jedha’s courtroom, on the edge of a terrible truth. He feels like he’s back in his wedding finery, wondering why his fiancé won’t look at him. His husband won’t look at him. Obi-Wan hates that he can’t read his scent, hates this stupid body of his, hates— “We didn’t know,” Anakin says quietly. “We thought… We thought it was required.”

----

When Anakin finally finds Obi-Wan, it’s in the cave system, at the pool they’d been to just last night.

He has his back to Anakin-- pant legs rolled up, feet in the water. He doesn’t turn around, though he must hear Anakin’s footsteps.

“I can pack tonight,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow.”

The words stop Anakin in his tracks. “What?”

“I don’t want to bind you to me. The Empire will gladly renegotiate with Tatooine even without that.”

Renegotiate?

“The Je’daii give equal weight to omegas in divorce, you know. Khula is always an option.”

Feelings flicker through Anakin faster than he can catalogue them. Disbelief, fear, panic, outrage—

“Not to me,” he seethes. “When you get married in Tatooine, the bond between souls is for a lifetime.”

For seven lifetimes—

“We are not getting a divorce!”

The words don’t seem to move Obi-Wan. “Okay,” he says simply.

The easy agreement blows the wind out of Anakin's sails. “Okay?”

His husband casts a tired glance over his shoulder. His face is blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed.

And yet, he’s miles away from the soft, openly emotional man who Anakin has gotten to know, these last few months.

This is Emperor Kenobi, who keeps his face blank and his voice steady as he looks away.

“Of course. We can discuss what that will look like another time.”

What does that mean? Anakin wants to ask. Why are you shutting me out?

But the words catch in his throat, unspeakable. He realizes that he’s afraid of the answers.

“It’s irony at it’s finest, I suppose, that I married someone who doesn’t believe in divorce. Karmic retribution, maybe, being bound to someone who won’t ever love me.”

The words are said quietly, clearly something Obi-Wan meant to keep to himself. But the echo of the cave carries them to Anakin's ears anyway, and his heart breaks for the man in front of him.

“Obi-Wan,” he breathes. “Who says I don’t love you?”

---

Read more in the next chapter of Their fragrance came from you - Ch 16: Celebration!

[vi-sigoth]

Please rant. (I may or may not have watched it, too)

Okay so if nobody wants to read this, here’s the TL;DR of how I felt about the entire series at the close of the show:

If you do, I just:

First off, I see a lot of people bash GRRM as an author, and while I think a lot of it is warranted, a lot of it I think, is unfair. GRRM, like every single other fantasy author who’s penned anything after 1970, has to live under the massive shadow of Tolkien, which is not a very easy shadow to get away from, develop a distinctive style from, or not borrow heavily from, particularly if your flavor of fantasy is high fantasy. But despite my qualms with Martin (how have the Wildlings been separated from the rest of Westeros for 6,000-8,000 years and not developed a separate language at this point? Why is the Faith of the Seven and the Faith of the Old Gods SO fucking lazily constructed? Why can’t Martin keep his numbers straight when he talks about his battles? Why did I have to read a sex scene in which a guy who is still somehow massively obese despite living in a frozen wasteland for a year and a half fucks a girl on a ship and drinks her breastmilk? Jolkien Rolkien Tolkien would have never done this to me) I still love his writing. Because Martin has always set out to explore “the human heart at war with itself” in a fantasy setting, and despite all the problems I have with him, I think he’s done a tremendous job of it.

You see, there are SO many things I could bitch about with this show, so, so many (ask me later why I hate all the blue dresses Emilia Clarke wears) But honestly? None of them really matter as much as what I view as the Main Problem of the show, and actually, a good portion of them stem from the Main Problem. What’s the Main Problem? The Main Problem is that despite George’s pussyfooting lapsed Catholic views (which is why we don’t get, in my opinion, in-universe religions that are fleshed out very well) despite his absolute weeny “war is so mean and bad :(“ Vietnam draft dodger takes, George Raymond Richard Martin is a Romantic at heart, and he loves his readers, he loves fantasy, and he loves putting his characters through horrendous, disgusting, grimy, hopeless situations, because when they come through, beaten, nearly torn to shreds—but alive, he is right there celebrating the unbreakable endurance of the human spirit with his readers. David Benioff and D.B. Weiss are nihilists who hate their audience and who love shoving their faces into mud and filth for no reason other than they take a sick pleasure in the pain and disgust of the people who’s faces they’re shoving into mud and filth.

I don’t remember the exact quote or interview, or which of them said it, but one of the D&D’s said that they were first inspired to develop the Song of Ice and Fire book series into a show when they read the Red Wedding scene. This is already a horrendous start. They were salivating the thought of bringing a scene that was supposed to be so horrible, so disgusting and unspeakably repulsive and wrong that it reverberates around the world and even is witnessed by characters who aren’t emotionally involved nor even geographically near (recall that Danaerys has a vision of it in the House of the Undying long before it happens). But GRRM didn’t write that scene, nor any other awful scene to rub his reader’s face in misery and horror. Recall how the death of Eddard Stark is written. He suffers in a hallucinatory fever for days before his execution, agonizing about the wrong he’s committed in his life. His death is witnessed by his two daughters. From a Watsonian standpoint, our hearts are meant to break, just as Sansa and Arya’s hearts broke when they are made to look on the death of their father. From a Doyalistic standpoint, the death of Ned Stark was nearly inevitable, just as the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi and so many other mentors had to happen, because the death of the mentor is an integral part of the hero’s journey. Ned’s death sets his widow and all of his children upon their paths to their own inevitable triumphs and ends. Furthermore, in any comedy, that is, in any story that ends happily, the hero or heros must travel in gyre. That is, they must travel on a crooked, twisting path to reach the end. If they don’t endure trials before they end, there’s no catharsis for them. Othello travels in a straight line towards Desdemona to place his hands around her neck to strangle her, without stopping. Without thinking that maybe he might check to really see if she’s been unfaithful. As a rule, straight lines end in tragedy, twisted roads end in comedy. The point of what I’m trying to say is that: GRRM didn’t kill Ned Stark to be malicious or to purposely cause pain to his readers. He killed him because the plot needed it. But D&D? Dipfuck and Duckfucker killed Ned, and Ros, and Sandor Clegane, and Theon, and all the people they killed because they think it’s funny when people die and they revel in filth and misery and they hate when things are good. Look at the way GRRM writes Ned’s arrival in King’s Landing versus the way D&D write it. BookNed rides up, and is immediately summoned to the Small Council meeting. He tells the messenger to wait while he changes into nicer clothes, knowing that appearances are important, knowing full well that he’s walking into a den of vipers. ShowNed? He walks right into the Small Council meeting in his travel clothes, brusquely brushing off the messenger’s protestations that he change into something nicer in a thick Scottish accent. Why does he do this? Because Ned Stark is so stupid and so dumb and he doesn’t play the Game of Thrones.why does Show Ned Stark trust people like Maester Pycelle and Littlefinger? Well BookNed doesn’t trust Pycelle, and has no reason at all to distrust Littlefinger or any way to know that he’s going to be betrayed by him. But again, ShowNed is a fucking stupid, dumbfuck hick, and he doesn’t know how to blay the GAMBE of Thrones!!! Why does BookNed inform Cersei that he’s going to tell Robert about the incest, and give her a chance to leave? Because he’s one of the ONLY people who has a kind, honorable, and true heart, and he doesn’t t want to see a woman and children be killed. And again, he has NO possible way of knowing that Petyr Baelish is going to betray him. But ShowNed? Well he does this because he’s STUPID and he doesn’t know how to play the gAmE oF tHrOnEs and only STUPID people are nice,,,,IDIOT!!!!!and this is the problem. (Continued in reblogs)

[lollytea]

>gus wants to be there for Hunter after everything he saw so he puts hand on his shoulder n tells him he s there for him if he wanted to talk

>Hunter freshly after coming to terms w his feelings for willow panics n assumes that s what gus means

>few days go by and Hunter braces himself n goes over to gus

>Gus frantically goes over his comforting speech he prepared and every other measure to reassure Hunter nothing s gonna change between them etc only to be abruptly dumbfounded by Hunters "so there s this person i like-" while he plays with his fingers with the tips of his ears red.

The involuntary "What." Comes out of illusionsts mouth before he can process it all

ASGDHKNLK THIS IS EXACTLY LIKE HIM. This is exactly what canon Hunter's priorities are like. Whenever he's in close proximity to Willow, his brain just completely empties of whatever unspeakable horror is currently troubling him. Its so funny.

Hunter spending days going through this maddening mental rotation of "Belos is dead...I'm not a real person...what am I....he never loved me....hOLY FUCK WILLOW IS SO CUTE..I will never see the Boiling Isles again...my whole life was a lie...maybe if I cut my hair she'd like it...I think I saw her looking at me earlier..."

He happens to be on the Willow section of his endless loop when Gus reaches out to him and Hunter nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Its like oh fuck Gus knows. Of course Gus knows. He was being SO obvious about it. Aw fuck does this mean Willow knows. Nah if she knew she would have said something by now. Oh fucking FUCK. Maybe it's a good thing Gus knows because Hunter could NOT hold this to his chest much longer. It makes him want to fucking explode.

Approaching Gus to talk about it is still a nerve racking experience tho. Hunter has never vocalised this kind of problem before. He's never like...HAD this kind of problem. Its hard to talk about. But he's gotta. So he quietly mumbles out the words to Gus, fidgeting awkwardly with his fingers.

And Gus is just like "....pardon?"

He was SURE they were gonna discuss the unspeakable horrors. To be fair he was kinda dreading it. Its a pretty heavy topic. But. Wow. Okay. They're doing this now??

Gus doesn't even know how to proceed. Like. What? He's never had to be somebody's wingman before. He doesn't know what the fuck to do here. But fucking DAMMIT. Hunter with his big dumb hopeless kitten eyes. Gus fucking HAS to help his dumb ass doesn't he? Okay sure how hard can romance be? He WILL guide Hunter through this. Whatever distracts them from the unspeakable horrors.

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWRITE 2023 - Prompt 6: Ring

Forward and back and then forward and back And then go forward and back, then put one foot forward 

The light was back. It spilled through crystal and glass, emerged from the hollows between the steel cogs of whirring machinery. Lasers, lightning. He ran and ran through the white and gold and silver. Not again. Not yet.

“Hototogisu!” cried Biff into the infinitude of radiance. “I’m comin’! I’m comin’!”

The ground rumbled, throwing him off his feet. A great machine emerged from it. With a few clicks of its arms and feet, it spread its six white wings. No. No…!

Time, out of time (illumination) Time, out of time (illumination) Time, out of time (predestination) Time, out of time (no destination) 

“You can’t have him!” Biff scrambled to get up, but only managed to sit on his knees. The familiar presence of Alexander pushed on him, imposing its will to make him beg. “I… won’t… let you… have him!” 

His aether was suppressed. It wouldn’t emerge when his spirit called to it. The stone, Azem’s stone, was not on his person. He searched himself for weapons in vain. All he had were his own two hands. His hands that clutched at the ground, at the nothing he could do. There, upon his finger, shone his last chance.

Falling back right into the system of Falling back on all that's erased When fighting back right out of this system Means falling right back right into this space

“I won’t go until you give him back!” he bellowed, raising his left fist. The eternity ring upon it blazed brighter and louder than the flood of stagnant forever around them. That did it. White light rippled from within the god-machine, pulling it apart in halves. Then, there was the cracking of bones. Of bones? Of steel. Of steel!

His breath left his lungs. He ran toward the writhing mess and into a pool of blood. What he beheld at its core was an unspeakable horror. Yet he made himself look at it all the same. His mistake. His madness. His bird, rent to pieces in a pool of blood. Sword fragments littered among the burning remnant flesh. He grabbed at them, knowing not what went where, determined to do something. It was his fault. But he would bring his beloved home, no matter the cost. Crimson spilled beyond his hands unto his arms, his shoulders, his chest, until he was covered in his love and cradling the remains to his chest.

Yes, falling back right in with the system Who'll see you falling back to the end When falling back is better than simply Falling back into pieces again

Biff shot out of bed, sweating, screaming at the top of his lungs. The darkness of the room answered with silence. He reached out around him, for his sheets, for his blade. Then, a delicate hand, roughed by the ravages of history, closed around his.

“You’re alright,” whispered Mikazuki, silhouetted by the soft light of the moon spilling from the window beside their bed. Biff threw himself into the ‘old’ man’s arms, sobbing. “You’re alright.”

[freemase]

❝  so,  what would you be?  if you had to power to change all the things making you unhappy,  what would your life look like?  ❞

They were both a little drunk, sitting by the bonfire in the dark while a billion stars twinkled overhead. The treehouse loomed nearby, the farmhouse just a tiny patch of yellow on the horizon. The air was smoky but under it, the unmistakable tang of pine was prominent and it filled Mason’s lungs with scent. He breathed deeply, then coughed a little when the bonfire smoke got him.

Beside him, Isaac laughed, the sound deep and rich and filling Mason with a rolling wave of warmth. He loved that laugh, even if it was at his own expense.

“What,” he grumbled but it didn’t hold any heat. “Something funny?”

“Those fancy augmented lungs not so great for campfires, hmm?” Isaac teased. He held out a strong, square palm for Mason to take. Mason entwined their fingers then yanked, flexing his strength and pulling the other man out of his chair and into Mason's lap instead.

“Too finely tuned for campfire smoke,” he muttered, then hid his face in the crook of Isaac’s warm neck as Isaac settled on his lap. “I prefer this. The smell of your skin. Your sweat. Your… everything.”

Mason was still cautious. It was so new between them it felt like it should have been something fragile – like setting cement when every move or word he spoke would set the tone for the relationship they were trying to build. It still stunned him that Isaac wanted this. Perhaps a small part of Mason was trying to hold onto a contingency in case Isaac changed his mind – even though Isaac, since his confession in the treehouse – had never given Mason a moment to doubt he wasn’t absolutely all in.

Isaac hummed and leaned against him and Mason pushed his worry out of his mind. It was just the booze talking, he decided. He pulled Isaac closer.

“So, tell me, Mason. What would you be? If you had to power to change all the things making you unhappy, what would your life look like?”

The question surprised him but he put thought into it anyway. Aside from the obvious – having his body turned into a science experiment, having so much of his own agency taken away from him – would he change that? Months ago he might have answered in the affirmative.

Now… Now he had Isaac. And that wouldn’t have happened if he’d avoided the horrors Cerberus had put him through.

For all the hell, Isaac was his sweet taste of heaven.

“What would it look like?” he mused, idly stroking his hands along Isaac’s skin. He liked how well Isaac fit in his arms. Neither of them were small men but Isaac felt as though he had been fashioned just for him.

What would he change? It occurred to Mason with a startling clarity that he wouldn’t change much. The place he was in now, with Isaac, after the war, building a life… was as close to perfect as he could ever have dreamed of.

He kissed Isaac’s shoulder and squeezed his arms around him. There was one thing he would change.

His heart began to race as he thought of it. Was it too soon? It might be, but Mason had no doubt it was what he wanted.

“There is something I would change. Just one thing.”

“Yeah?” Isaac sounded curious. “What is it?”

Mason’s heartrate thundered a little harder. He had stared down collectors and reapers, fought in battles that shaped unspeakable horrors in his dreams, but nothing had his guts feeling as watery as this did.

He took a breath.

“I would change you,” he said simply. “I would make you husband. Because the only thing that makes me unhappy is not being able to call you that. Is not telling the whole fucking universe how much I love you. How much you mean to me.”

He kissed Isaac again and hoped he didn't just sign the death nell on their fledgling relationship. “That’s what my life would look like.”

[ventisehe]

crying on their wedding day / genshin impact / part one

this was a request from my old account and i am only transferring it here. there is a part two to this but i got busy with school and organizing my new account, as well as thinking over deleting my old account.

since bennett is fifteen or sixteen, his part will be a little different from the others. with aether, he is hundred years old so his part if just like the rest. this is unedited and i wrote it at night when i was supposed to be farming so please bear with me hehe.

requested by: @bakuhoe-is-my-bakubro

includes: diluc, zhongli, childe/tartaglia, aether, bennett

warning: unedited, not proofread

part two

THOSE WHO WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR

     DILUC

       After losing his father and his horrible fall out with Kaeya, Diluc has become a firm believer that a man can truly live as an island, to some extent. As much as possible, he kept to himself and worked alone. Having people share his burdens with him did not appeal to him. In fact, it miffed him, as it made him feel indebted to them.

          He limited his interaction with everyone, especially those who are part of the Knights of Favonius, favoring solitude above else. But of course, this did not entail bad social ethics to others.

    He treated his maids and employees with civility and respect, the same can be said with his patrons whenever he worked behind the counter (it would certainly be bad for his business if he behaved aloof to them) and those he was once close friends with. He always behaved appropriately to them, although he must admit he can be quite insulting to the Knight, he always stood behind an invisible barrier, careful not to cross it and grow attached to anyone.

        He has long given up with amorous relationships. After all, what good would he be as a lover if he could not provide his woman the love and care she deserved? Surely, he cannot let a maiden suffer with his inadequacy as a potential husband. He is aware of how hectic his schedule is (he hardly has enough time for himself so spending time with his lover would be proven difficult) and how poorly he expresses his feelings, thoughts, and emotions. In a relationship, in marriage, communication is the key for it to be successful, and already then, he has failed. He may be a cold man at first glance, but he will not put a woman in s distressing dilemma, not intentionally anyway.

                    Being the richest man in Mondstadt and being considered attractive by many, Diluc was not foreign to having women throw themselves at him, attempting to seduce him. If maintaining a relationship with a woman with his current tribulations was hard, finding a woman who truly love and understand him was even harder. He has no means of deciphering who were pure with their intentions and those who sought him for his money and influence.

     And he accepted his fate without easily, without question. This was the way it was supposed to be in the first place. Diluc Ragnvindr - a lone man, who lived in too big mansion, sleeping on a bed too big for him. It was all he knew. The bright days of his childhood long forgotten.

    But then you came to his life so suddenly.

                          "Master Diluc," Began Jean, a polite smile over her lips. "This is ( Your Name )".

              All it took was for you to give him shy smile to have his walls broken down, and for his heart to yearn for what he has resolutely denied himself of for years. And it twisted him, and not in a way he welcomed.

          Diluc tried so damn hard to push you away. He avoided your presence, and made it his point to show you he wanted nothing to do with you, and made no attempt to cover it and ignored how his heart broke every time your smile fell. He resolutely refused to yield to your sincere advances.

                                     He treated you the same way be treated everyone, to show you how you were no different from everyone. You were just another dot in his life waiting to be erased and thrown in the back of his mind.

                                                       But the harder he pushed, the harder you pulled. In his brightest days and in his darkest days, you have never strayed far and welcomed him with open arms. You always went out of your way for him.

          It was hard not to fall in love with you? Why did you have to make things so difficult?

                        It wasn't too long until he was falling asleep in his bed with you in his embrace, his heart feeling light, warm and content. He hasn't feel like this in a long time - safe, and at home. Diluc found home from someone he tried to push away.

                                      The horror of what could have happened if he had been successful weighed down on him, and it took quite an assurance from you to make him remember that he has failed, and you were his, as he was yours.

                          Back then, he thought your persistence was bothersome. But as he stood at the altar right now, watching you enter with your white wedding dress, he was grateful you never gave up on him.

Diluc cannot describe how beautiful you looked as you graced everyone in the place with your presence.

Your eyes locked with him, and his heart soared in his chest. And when you smiled at him, an excited gleam in your eyes - he cannot help but smile back.

Time cannot be any slower, and the aisle cannot be any longer. And have you always walked this slow? Or were you just teasing him?

Diluc's breath hitched - Perhaps you knew how much he wanted to get this over with so he can have you all to himself in the comfort of his room.

And when he saw you smiling mischievously at him, he knew that he was right.

His words failed to describe how beautiful you looked. His words failed the joy he was feeling. May Barbatos have mercy on him

But the tear that escaped the corner of his eye explained everything.

"Oh, what is this?" His best man whispered beside him, a teasing tone lacing his voice. "Master Diluc is crying. Why, I never thought I'd see the day."

Diluc shot him a glare. "Do not make me regret making you my best man, Kaeya."

Kaeya laughed. "Ah, ah, ah," He chimed. "Your wife won't be pleased if we fight at your wedding day."

A warm and pleasant feeling coursed through him. His wife.

"She's not my wife yet." Said Diluc.

Kaeya looked at you as you walked down the aisle. "And in just a few minutes, I'll have two Ragnvindr to annoy." He patted his brother on the back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time. "Congratulations, Diluc."

     ZHONGLI

       Zhongli, or Rex Lapis for that time, has watched over Teyvat for thousands of years and has witnessed firsthand how kings and tyrants rose and fell, how kingdoms were born, how camaraderie are conducted, how romance makes a man foolish and blinded, how society flourished in the hands of mortals as Archons guarded them from their resting place, and throughout the tales of humans, his eyes has laid upon many beauties.

                   But you? Oh, even the most esteemed bard of all realms could never bring the satisfactory glory to your name and pulchritude.

            How dearly Zhongli missed the unspeakable power, money and authority he had back before he revoked his own position as a deity, keeping a close eye over Liyue and his people. But if ever presented with the opportunity to return to his rightful place as part of the Seven, he shall graciously decline, casting his gaze away and simply returning to your side.

                               After all, what benefit would he gain from it when he already has his heart is content in the possession of a mere mortal, a mortal he loved and adored. He would dream of ever choosing his old power over you, and that can be affirmed when he asked for your hand as the two of you took an evening stroll outside Liyue.

                 He has fallen for you and he cannot rise again. A gentle and kind woman with an understanding and patience which knows no bounds. If not for his revelation that he has accomplished all his duties and has come to decide to resign from his reign, your existence may be another reason for him to take the form or a mortal and ask for your hand.

                      He can still recall that faithful day when he first met you at the harbor. He stood by a high balcony, overlooking Liyue Harbor with arms crossed. The sun beat down against Liyue grounds and his skin, but it also casted an ethereal glow on you as you exited one of the ships that stopoed at the docks. And may he boldly say the sun was outshined that day, and his heart has been taken.

                                         Zhongli can only imagine how many men has chased after you, but failed to woo you.

                   Zhongli understood the concept of love. After all, Liyue and every living being that sought shelter in its walls were close to his heart, but never in his life has he felt the way he felt for you. It was the sort of phenomena he observed between lovers for centuries - unconditional love and care, a sanctuary in the arms of their beloved, an individual to trust and come home to whether the day has been kind or unkind.

           What he thought were trivial matters and the means of mortals for survival he has tasted its sweet flavor, and it was by your hand did he receive it. And he was thankful that you have found him worthy of being with you, and soon, being one with him in the contract of marriage.

And thus came the faithful day, the very day he longed to come ever since you have accepted him as your husband to be, and the day you have dreamt of every night you laid with him.

Zhongli counted the months, weeks, days, and if he had the ability to, minutes until the day of your wedding. He has a calendar in his room and everyday, he enthusiastically crossed out every passing day, watching as his wedding with you grow closer.

And when it finally arrived, Zhongli followed a meticulous routine to prepare himself, using expensive oils and perfume to which the Fatui money has provided splendidly. After all, he wanted to look the best he can for you. You deserved only the best of things, and he shall not hold back on anything to please you.

Though Zhongli, most of the time, was a calm man even under the eye of tribulations, when he stood at the altar in front of his close friends and colleagues, he can't help but feel anxious.

Of course he has no doubt in your love for him. He holds on your every word of love and affection as true, and his love for you was as hard as stone. Rather, it was he who doubted himself and his capabilities.

He wondered if he would be able to take care of you, love you the way you should be, bring a smile to your lips, and a laugh out of your mouth. If he had been Rex Lapis still, he would have easily uphold his duties as your husband. After all, what can an Archon not do?

It would be Childe, his best man, who would console him. He would tell Zhongli he is more than capable to care for you. He has a stable job (not to mention his connection with the Fatui), he was eager to please you and give you about everything if he can, he has a kind heart, he was a man who can manage his time wisely and never choose his profession over you, and above all, he loved you. Not many men can afford the luxury of being this perfect, but Zhongli was no man, not originally at least.

He will be unconvinced of what Childe has said. This unease in him was hard to diminish. Not being enough for you will tear him apart. The thought of it just gnawed at him. Will he make you happy? Will you regret marrying him when you realized life married to him wasn't as you expected?

It was only when the doors opened, and his wide and anticipative eyes darted over to the other end of the place did every little doubt in his mind is erased.

You stood by the entrance wearing the white dress you have fought hard not to show him until this day.

That bright smile on your face, those eyes that shimmered at the sight of him, the faint red on your cheeks - Zhongli did not even notice how love stricken he looked, and nor did he notice a tear cascade from corner of eye.

It was only when Childe stifled a laugh and pointed it out did he feel the dampness at the side of his face.

He forgot how to breathe when you finally stood before him. Even a veil cannot conceal your beauty.

With twinkling eyes, you smiled at him - like he was the only person in the room.

"Are you crying?" You ask playfully.

Zhongli will let out a chuckle, and as he take your hands in his, he said, "In such a beautiful day like this with the loveliest lady in Teyvat before me, how can I not?"

Indeed it was a beautiful day, made better when your lips met his.

He can't stop a few more tears from slipping.

THOSE WHO WOULD BAWL THEIR EYES OUT

     CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

                 Childe understood his duties as a Harbinger even if his playful and flirtatious facade may say otherwise. He kissed hands of women and paid them golden compliments until their mind went hazy with his feigned affection, but he was still a Fatui at the end of the day - a ruthless and greedy scoundrel who had too much Mora in his hands.

              And it was because of his line of work that he decided never to commit himself. If he was to find himself infatuated with a woman and she reciprocated his feelings and desired to pursue a relationship with him, it would inevitably drag her to the dangers entailed to his position.

                                       The last thing he wanted was someone to dear to him to be harmed, not to mention his lover could become his weakness, she could be taken by his enemies and be used against him, thus, making things more complicated and harder for him to fulfill his duties to the Tsaritsa.

             To him, nothing is more important than seeing through his mission with the finest quality of work he can give.

                   So damn you for coming into his life and distracting him. Damn you for bringing another bright to his life. Damn you for taking care of his family when he was gone. Just - damn you for making him fall for you.

      He hated this - the feeling of being weak, of being vulnerable, of laying his guard down. One touch from you and he's no better than the people he despised for being so frail and powerless.

                                              How ever do you possess this prowess to make him so dependent on you, to relish in your voice when you sing to him as the two of you laid together in his bed, how he let his defenses crumble when you whisper his name, the tug of his heart when you he sees you getting along so well with his family.

                          Childe wanted you. He wanted you more than anything and anyone in Teyvat. He was going crazy thinking about you.

             He refused to acknowledge his feelings at first, thinking perhaps he can use you to comfort him and his family in these troubling times. That's all you were supposed to be, a tool for him to make his family feel better whenever he goes off to accomplish his work as a Harbinger.

                              But he couldn't stomach the thought of using you like that. He didn't want you to treat like a toy. And it did not help that one day, when he was returning from a mission, you come rushing to him and blurting out your feelings and your worry for his safety.

               You loved him. Did he hear you right? You love a Fatui, and a Harbinger, no less. Surely, you aren't that stupid to fall for him.

     And yet he smiled a sincere smile at your confession, and he too followed your steps. That night, he was at his weakest. Just relishing in your arms and ridding all the responsibilities over his shoulders. He can forget all his faults for a moment, with you. A peace of mind and heart was found in you.

     Childe watched as you played with his fingers, and then he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”

       You hummed. “Afraid? Of what?”

                   Childe shook his head and held your hand which toyed with his digits. You looked up at him, puzzled.

              “Of me.” Said Childe, pulling your hand and holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes, almost terrified of what your answer can be. “Of what I can bring to your life. I’m a Harbinger, [ Your Name ]. Your life is at stake just being with me. Do you know what you’re in for for loving me?”

                        You gazed at him, and he can’t see anything in your eyes. He let out a small gasp when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

            “I’m not afraid of you or anything this world can throw at me.” You confessed. “You’re going to protect me, Tartaglia. I know you will. I trust you. I love you.”

                            And fucking hell, did he protect you.

                                          He tried to hide you from his fellow Harbingers, and especially to his enemies. Not because they will use you to get the upper hand against him, a leverage. No, he wanted to hide you, as long as he can anyway (because it won't be long until his secret is out, walls do have ears), to protect you. No one will lay a hand or even get a single strand of your hair. May the Archons have mercy on anyone who dares put you in the middle of the dangers of his job, because he surely won't.

Because of this, you and Childe decided to get married in secret, with no one else but Zhongli, the traveler, and their floating companion to be your witnesses in becoming one. The two of you knew well of the consequences your decision shall birth, but it's the one you're making. Nothing in this can stop Childe from making you his wife, and treating you as such.

Childe could not wait for the ceremony to begin. Even with such a small crowd - very small indeed - he did not hold back to make this day special for you. The finest of everything is what you deserved, and if he could give more, he would. But for now, all he can give you is himself, and he dearly wished he was enough.

The whole time, as he waited for you to emerge from the doors of the small cathedral the two of you chose to be wed in, he kept imagining how his life would be like with you.

Waking up beside you was the thing he looked forward to the most. When the sunrays peeked from closed curtains and cascaded down your slumbering form, a gentle and even breaths leaving your lips, a soft expression of rest - the thought of it filled his heart with warmth, a kind of warmth only you can evoke from him.

Waking up at your side on his bed always reminded him thst you were indeed there, and his. Soon, he'll be waking up beside you with a soft smile on his lips, a reminder that you were there, but now as his wife.

Childe never really considered him emotional. It was part of his discipline as a Harbinger never to let his emotions get the better of him. But when you stepped into the cathedral wearing the wedding dress you personally chose and had hidden from him for so long, a veil over your face but the soft smile still just as bright as the morning sun, it all came crashing down to him.

Childe wanted a lot of things in life. But what he wanted the most was to spend the rest of his life with you - providing for you, protecting you, comforting you, falling deeper in love with your every single day. All this he will do until his dying breath, and he knew you'd do the same.

His dream was walking towards him, never taking her eye off him as she approached the altar.

He can hear Paimon clapping and the Traveler reprimanding her for being a little too loud. He can hear Zhongli saying something to him but he couldn't understand a word he said. But he was too lost in his realization that you're going to marry him.

You chose him, a man with too many faults and imperfections.

Just as you arrived at the small steps leading towards the altar, the tears Childe has been trying to hold back streamed down his face, small hiccups escaping his lips.

You stared at him, worried. "Tartaglia, are you alright?"

Childe would try to formulate an answer but through his tears and hiccups, he couldn't make a single comprehensible word. His posture was regal and proper, as though he was trying to fool everyone that he wasn't crying.

How can you ask if he was alright? How can his heart handle how beautiful you looked right now?

"Excuse me, ( Your Name )," Zhongli interjected as he stepped beside Childe. "It seems that your soon to be husband needs a moment to collect himself. Please, excuse us."

Zhongli led Childe back to his room, and the Harbinger did not fight back. He was still crying even when the doors has closed behind him. Zhongli stood by the door, watching the Fatui sit on his bed, trying to stop himself from bawling.

Childe can feel guilt crawling up to him as he realized what he had done. What was supposed to the most perfect day, your most perfect day, was ruined because of him.

He was scared to think what you thought of him now. Were you resenting him for what happened? Did you still wish to marry him?

If only he had controlled his emotions much better. He shouldn't have let his joy break through him in tears.

"She was crying too, you know," Spoke Zhongli.

Childe raised his head to look at the former Archon. "Huh?"

"Your bride, she - " He smiled at him. " - she was crying too. She's happy to be marrying you."

Childe can feel his heart hammering against his chest in delight at what he said.

"So don't keep her waiting."

Childe bawled his eyes out once more when the words - "I do," - left your lips.

     AETHER

                 When his sister was taken from him, Aether was a lost and wandering soul in Teyvat with the sole purpose of finding her.

              Throughout his journey, he met different people from different regions. He learned their values and cultures, he grew to love the world he used to be a stranger to, he was able to utilize different sorts of Visions, and yet, despite all of this, Aether was lonely. Paimon - bless her pure soul - tried her best to keep his spirits and bring a smile to his face (he assumed she too felt the hollowness inside of him) but it was all futile as he often find himself seeking solitude and gazing out in an open field wondering where his twin could be and how she was fairing on her own.

                He will let the cool breeze comfort him, but all it left was a searing kiss of reality that his search might have been all for naught. That very concept his mind was conjured haunted him in his every waking days. Is he still journeying through Teyvat and reaching out to all Archons with a solid purpose? Was he no wasting his time looking high and low for someone who could not be looking at the sky as he?

                     "And what if she is?"

                                     Your words is what got his attention. Aether met you in the evening when the stars and the moon was absent from the skies. He sat on a fallen log overlooking the city of Mondstadt, alone and cold. Paimon has insisted in him accompanying him, but he had snuck away before she can chase after him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and with the scarce time he has for himself, he has to make the most of every night that comes.

                 Lumine was in his mind, and worry was gnashing its teeth at him. He was deep in his own world, sinking to the hands of his tragic thoughts, that he did not hear footsteps trekking the hillock he was at. Nor did he realize he was speaking his own worries in the air, eyes distant and staring blankly at nothing.

       "What if she's not even looking for me?" That's what he remembered saying that time.

                                       Then you made your presence known with an answer that refuted his initial thought. He whirled his head to the side, wide eyes with surprise. You stood next to him with a faint smile, hands behind your back and the moon slowly peeking from the shroud of clouds. A light in the darkness, the moon was. And so you were you to him.

                "Sorry," You apologized, sheepishly giving him a smile as you rubbed the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were speaking out loud and-and I just had a feeling I needed to say something." You took in a deep breath, and Aether found the pink dusting your cheeks adorable. "I . . . I'll just go now - "

              Aether didn't regret asking you to stay.

                                   Before you came to his life, Aether did not know how much he was dwelling in the own hell he made. His inner tribulations, his worries, his insecurities - he only took notice the torture he was putting on himself when you keep saving him from his own mind.

                   At first, all he thought of you was a precious friend - someone he leaned on and entrusted with everything, whether it be secrets or help with his quests. He told you about his past, his twin, how exactly he was different from the people of Teyvat, how he and sister fought an unknown god, how she slipped from his fingers when he reached out for her, how much he wanted her back. He was terrified of what you may think of him when he told you these things, but to his surprise, all you did was wrap him in your arms and comforted him.

                                      Along with Paimon, you were his dearest friend.

             But as time passed, the longer you accompany him and Paimon in his travels, he noticed something strange. The way his heart skipped a beat when you smile at him, how he can't keep his eyes off you when you laugh at one of his tales, how his heart hammered ceaselessly when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek, the relief that seeps in his system when he sees you unscathed from a battle, how irritated he becomes when someone makes an offense against you, the joy that seizes him when he listens to you talking about something you loved, and how much he adored it when you scold him for being a little too reckless in fighting.

                           Aether, despite being older than he seems, did not know what to make of what he was feeling. It was strange, a good kind of strange - the kind of feeling that makes him feel like he was floating in the sky. All he thought of it was an overwhelming adoration for a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

                  It wasn't until Paimon pointed it out did he realize what he was feeling for you.

                                           Upon learning his feelings for you, Aether couldn't sleep for many nights. He was plagued with the desires of his heart and his insecurities. It was like falling back to the same hellish pattern before you came along.

              He was in this world for one reason only - to find his twin. And when he does - and he fucking will - he will depart from here with her and continue their travels. Leaving you was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It felt like leaving a piece of him behind in Teyvat, a hole in the shape of your name.

                            The solution he had for this is directly confessing to you. Of course, the blond was a nervous wreck when he approached you and asked for a moment of your time. Paimon knew of his plan and wandered away for the time being, wanting to give the two of your privacy.

              If you did not share the same feelings as he, he can already imagine the pain he will have to deal with, but it'll be much easier to leave. At least then he knows you won't be as hurt as he thought once he takes his leave. He never entertained the idea of you reciprocating his feelings. It would be foolish to - surely you can't find anything appealing with someone like him ; to which you rendered him speechless and a bumbling mess when you pressed your lips against his when he was in the middle of his confession.

                                 Aether shouldn't be this happy with you. He loved you too much to see you hurt when he tells you that he must leave. He was not welcome in this world, he was an outsider, a being not under the authority or influence of any Archons.

     But still, he spent months loving you, caring for you, doing anything to come back to you no matter what is thrown at him. He loved having you in his arms when you slept, he loved watching the stars with you at night, he loved you even with the inevitable arguments you two have - Aether was utterly and hopeless in love with you.

                     And thus, he decided to tell you what will happen after he finds his sister.

                      He knew he would be heart broken in seeing you cry, but it hurt more to see you smile at to him so genuinely and embraced him, saying, "You used to doubt you'll ever find your sister. It broke my heart everyday seeing you so hopeless, and I - " You composed yourself, shaking your head as your tried to gather your thoughts. " - now look at you," You cupped his cheek, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your smile broadened. "I always knew the day will come when you have to leave me. When you told me you weren't from this world, I knew then I'll have to let go of you someday. But until that day comes - Aether - "

               What a shock it came to him when you got down on one knee and presented to him a glittering ring - there was unconditional love and hope in your eyes. It was like looking back at his reflection. "Marry me, Aether, let me make you happy for the rest of the days we still have remaining until you leave."

                                   Aether can never say no to you.

To his surprise, Master Diluc has already agreed to host your wedding at Dawn Winery. Aether was puzzled as to why he seemed unsurprised by the news of his engagement with you, and the Claymore wielding male answered, "( Your Name ) came to me for help when she planned to propose to you."

Aether knew Diluc, as much as possible, wanted to be alone. A lone wolf, he was. But with gratitude for what he has done, he asked him to be his best man. Diluc was startled by this requests but obliged. The red head might not show it but he was immensely flattered by Aether asking him to be his best now (and now time to subtly show it off to Kaeya).

At the day of the wedding, contrary to what he thought he would feel, Aether woke up with his an ache in his chest. He found himself looking out the window of his room, torn between his happiness and sorrow.

In a few hours, Aether will be able to adorn a ring on your finger, symbolizing your promises with one another. He shall be granted the sole blessing of calling your his wife. It was something he was looking forward to - seeing you in your wedding dress, watching as you walk down the aisle -

But Aether's mind kept drifting back to his sister - She would have wanted to be here. He thought.

Aether felt like he was committing a crime when he decided to take a walk just hours before his wedding. But he needed to clear his mind. Lumine never left his mind. He always thought that they would always be there for one another, or at least in big moments like this.

And yet she was still nowhere to be seen.

Is she still alive? Have I been wasting time? Is she still in danger? Is she lost in Teyvat as well?

"Didn't expect to run into you here."

His body tensed when he heard your voice, and he twirled around only to have his breath taken away.

You stood before him in the white dress he had longed to see ever since you proposed to him. He thought he would see a frown on your face, dismayed for his impromptu walk, but you wore a soft smile - a soft and understanding smile.

Aether did know what to say to you. He just stared at you, overwhelmed.

He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't say anything. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

You approached him and kissed his cheek. He hummed in delight, eyes closing. "I hope you're not having second thoughts on marrying me." You told him.

Aether was quick to respond. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes with affirming hues, "There is nothing I'm more sure of than marrying you."

You beamed at him. Seeing your face brighten up is always a beautiful sight for Aether, and it was enough for him to feel enlightened in the midst of his internal crisis.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course you can already tell something is bothering him. Aether shook his head. He has already ruined a small part of what is supposed to be a perfect day, he can't risk another mistake.

"I'm not going to push you to tell me anything." You stated.

Aether smiled. "Thank you." He replied. He gazed at you for a little while, taking you in. "Why are you out here anyway? And in your wedding dress too."

Your eyes widened and you looked down to assess his evaluation. "Oh Archons," You mewled. "I forgot I was wearing this." You let out a groan. "Great, now my surprise is ruined. I won't be able to see you cry when you see me walk down the aisle."

He laughed a little. "But still happy as ever to see you." He said. "So why are you outside?"

"Just . . . " You began, and Aether can detect a hint of nervousness in your voice. " . . . picking some flowers."

"I thought we already ordered flowers." Aether thought, frowning. "Did someone forget to deliver the flowers? I can call someone if - "

"No, I just wanted to pick some flowers, randomly. Like how you wanted to take a walk, randomly."

He looked at you with hesitant eyes. He didn't believe you. There was something hidden behind your motive to be out here. But like how you didn't press him with what was the problem, he did the same for you.

"Okay," He breathed out. "What flowers did you pick then?"

Aether's breath hitched when you pulled out a bundle of Windwheel Asters and several more flowers that was all too familiar with him.

He stared at the white flowers that combined with your Windwheel Asters, the very flowers that he remembered adorned his sister's hair.

"Aether? Aether are you okay?"

He stared at you with glistening eyes, his heart blossoming with adoration and gratitude. Without even meaning to, you managed to make everything alright.

"Yeah," He smiled at you. "I'm okay."

Aether thought when he stood at the altar, he would have Diluc trying to soothe his nerves as his insecurities slowly sink in his mind. But it didn't happen. Diluc merely stood by him with a relaxed expression, glancing at him every now and then.

"You don't look nervous at all." Diluc remarked.

Aether chuckled. "This is the only decision I fully know I won't regret."

Aether felt like it was his first time seeing you in your wedding dress. His heart was filled with the brim with utmost joy, but what caught his attention was the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You told him before that you will have roses as your bouquet, but to his surprise, he can see the Windwheel Asters and the white flowers that reminded him of his sister.

His emotions was all over the place. He had no idea how he could look so calm. Somehow he managed to hold himself together until you finally stood before him.

When you stared at him behind the veil, he couldn't take it anymore. You were too perfect. How could he be so blessed with you?

Tears sprung to his eyes when you reached out to take his hands in yours. He retracted one of them to rub his arm across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that streamed to his face.

Why am I crying like a child in my wedding? Stop it!

He couldn't.

He only cried harder when you leaned forward, removed his arm from his eyes, made him look into your vibrant hues, to give a small peck on his lips - "You're okay, Aether."

     BENNETT

                 Bennett understood his bad luck more than anyone. He had lived with and through it his entire life he graced the surface of the earth. It was almost pitiful to see the boy smiling ever so brightly as misfortune after misfortune comes hurtling his way, but to him? It was an everyday and normal occurrence, nothing he hasn't seen or experienced before. His spirits has never let their roaring flame vanish, however, and if it had not been for his bad luck, everyone would have been drawn to his warm, welcoming, affable, and cheerful soul.

                                 But just because he was used to the constant array of debacle thrown his way, doesn't mean there were never days where he won't be upset over everything it brought to his life, and others as well, and wonder how long it will take until his unluckiness will lead him back to the very situation he was rescued from when he was a mere baby.

          He forgot how long it was when he had experienced something good, miraculously so. The only time he can recall being so was when he encountered the Honorary Knight, convened with them as a temporary adventure team, and found a treasure chest containing items he has only dreamed of in his sleep deep within a domain. However, that was many moons ago, and nothing has ever compared to it ever since. The moment he departed from the Honorary Knight, his bad luck came instantly to bite him.

                 It was far too long ago. Sometimes, Bennett wondered if that would be the only good thing that can happen to him in his lifetime, and thank the Archons he was wrong because the very worst day that came upon him is a day he will never exchange for another - the day he met you. When it was raining, thunder in the distance, lightning striking trees and soil, his bruised and bleeding form hardly covered under a small and flimsy tent, you graced him with your presence, and an umbrella which you used to cover both of you.

                                    He had never stopped admiring you ever since. His eyes always followed you, wide and shining. He remembered the warmth in his chest and the redness tinting his cheeks when you brought him to your abode and treated his wounds with care gentler than the Deaconess. When he told you what happened to him, he anticipated to he shoved out of the house immediately and have your front door slammed on his face, but you did not. When he warned you about his curse, telling you how you will be affected when you spend a little too much time with him, the look of fright did not cross your visage and you even insisted that he not leave your house until you were sure he was capable of moving without pain, even if you had instantly been affected by his unluckiness (you pricked your finger quite badly when you were stitching a deep wound of his. He always felt guilty for that and has not stopped offering his apologies whenever it pricks the corner of his mind).

                   Other than the team of adventurers who had saved him from peril when he was a baby, it was difficult to find someone who will stay with him, through bad times and more of it. One cannot simply imagine and comprehend the confusion and happiness that seized him when he found out you were spending more and more time with him, not out pity but because you enjoy his company (which was weird, but he'll take it).

                              You possessed no Vision, but Bennett never saw you in an inferior light. In fact, it impressed him how you can hold yourself without the aid of any power. Enemies took a little longer to eradicate but ultimately, you were always successful. He held you in high regard, and very much like a certain blond traveler, the poor boy thought it was merely friendship and respect he felt towards you. After all, wouldn't a friend accompany him in his adventures no matter what disappointing or gratifying the outcome is? Wouldn't a friend prepare meals for him before he goes off on a solo expedition? Wouldn't a friend stay up late up waiting for him to return after? Wouldn't a friend welcome him by the entrance of Mondstadt upon his arrival? Wouldn't a friend give him butterflies in his stomach? Wouldn't a friend make his heart pound in a way

                  It had taken the Traveler and his floating companion for Bennett to learn about how exactly he was feeling for you.

           He liked you, and not in the way he liked the traveler or Razor - he liked liked you.

                               When he realized about his feelings, Bennett nearly short circuit every time you go near him. His face flush a rich color of vermillion, his confident posture stripped down to a coy and uncertain stance, his eyes darted and never meeting yours for too long, a sheepish smile painted over his brims - Bennett had never felt this way before. It was foreign to him - liking someone - and it was worse for him because you were his one of his few friends (you, Razor, the Traveler and their floating friend), and having you withdraw from him if you ever learned his feelings frightened him more than any Ruin Guard could.

    He didn't bother entertaining the idea of you returning his feelings. With his bad luck, it was bound to end in a rejection, and he didn't believe he had the heart to accept the hurt that would come.

                 Bennett tried to keep his feeling a secret, he really, genuinely, did. He locked his feelings for you in a box and stowed away somewhere behind his mind. But it didn't take you too long to catch on. Bennett's theatrics wasn't as impenetrable as he originally thought because there was no other reason for you to corner him in a street in Mondstadt after he tried to avoid crossing paths with you, and admit your feelings to him.

                                  "( Your Name )," Stuttered Bennett, eyes darting to the side to avoid your eyes as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. You gazed at him, a tint of red over your cheek.

                 Archon, how are you so adorable?

                   "Uh, hi," He greeted meekly, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I-I was just about to leave for an adventure - "

                               "Bennett," You spoke, and he froze at the tone of your voice.

                   He looked at you properly, gulping. Shy eyes, shy smile, shy, shy, shy - and yet somehow, Bennett thought the worse - that you found out about his feelings and was about to turn him down.

          He almost got down on his knees and press his hands together in a praying position, head bowed, and beg to keep your friendship. It didn't matter if you did not share his feelings. You were more important than his stupid feelings. He can deal with the hurt of rejection that will soon to come, but losing you completely? Can he even come to terms with that?

                                But before he can do such humiliating display, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek,

                  It was almost too good to be true, and with someone like him, Bennett had to take a moment to comprehend what has happened. His feelings were reciprocated, opposite of what should have been considering his dilemma. How can this be? He was sure your friendship would be put to an end when you learn about what he felt for you. How did you even know that he liked you? Has he been too obvious? Surely not (he was). Perhaps you were merely toying with him, discovering his feelings and choosing to use it as a way to alleviate your boredom -

                                           Horror struck him when he processed the message behind his doubt. How could he think so little of you? Someone as sweet and kind as you would be repulsed by the intention of the actions he thought you were presenting to him. Prideful as this may sound, Bennett believed he knew you enough to know you were sincere in everything you do.

            But even if both your feelings are revealed to be mutual, the two of you agreed to wait until a certain age before forming a romantic relationship. The two of you are young and there are a lot more the world can offer outside Mondstadt. There are countless of opportunities to grow and be mature, to be able to have a set of qualities to take of one another.

                            But that didn't mean the two of you easily managed to hold back showcasing your favor for the other. Bennett will always find himself exchanging secret glances and smile with you whenever a third party joins in on your adventure. He would stick by your side in situations he think could potentially lead you to a major injury. He will attempt (and fail, unfortunately) to whip you up with something delicious when he has free time. And you did the same to him.

                  With you, there was never a time where his heart wasn't beating against his chest. He can't stop himself from bounding recklessly through his adventures whenever you accompany him, although he will still keep a close eye on you just in case something bad happens to you (but it's always him who ends up injured).

                                              But what he liked the most are the kisses the two of you share. Short, chaste, and shy - whether it be behind closed doors, when others are looking away, or when the two of you set of on an adventure.

            Bennett would lay in his bed with a smile on his face, his thundering heart preventing him from sleeping. He'll often find himself burying his face against his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

                         This smile was different. This wasn't smile that he usually wore, the kind of smile that persevered through hardship after another. No, it was the sort of smile that was too carefree and too full of utmost joy, no worries or doubts in his heart. Everyday he always woke up to the excitement of adventure, but now, the excitement of it and seeing you once again always had him brimming with the want for the night to be over with so he can chase after his dreams with you. Chasing his dreams with you, what a life.

      His world is full of a bad luck, but he thanked the Archons for giving him someone he can depend on in the troubling waters he always he seem to drown in.

Bennett, embarrassing it may sound, often laid on his bed imagining about marrying you.

He can see himself making a fool out of himself when he gets down on one knee and propose to you. It'll be set in the most beautiful place he discovered in one of his adventure, somewhere quiet. Like maybe on top of a mountain overseeing a vast field.

Because of his bad luck, he'll try to prepare for every outcome. To be very sure everything will be saved, he made sure he created a plan B for his plan A, a plan C for his plan B, and so on, and so forth.

He can imagine himself fumbling over his words, blushing a bright red was made prominent because of his white hair, holding a bunch of hand picked flowers a little too tightly, sweat pouring from his face, his suit and hair a little ruffled -

If you say yes (spoiler alert, you will), he will most probably go haywire with shock and happiness, causing him to drop the ring down the mountain, and the two of you will spend quite some time looking for it. But in the end, you two will find it somewhere deep underground or deep underwater (to which you will ask help to retrieve) (Bennett offered to go down to get the ring but you can’t take any chances) and then you can start planning the wedding.

If Bennett had backup plans for his proposal, then expect there'll be much more backups with your wedding. He needed this day to be perfect for you, and his bad luck won't stop him from providing it for you. Even if he had to fight through horde after horde of Hilichurls (please stop him when he does, he definitely will do that for you), making you happy is his top priority.

Bennett will be extremely anxious the day before the wedding. He'll be pacing around his room, and has half a mind of running over to your place and spending the night there to reassure himself that you still want to marry him, and that you’re absolutely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It will be Razor - who the Traveler spent hours teaching the basic information of the role of Best Man to - who will calm his nerves. He’ll stop Bennett from reaching your house and carry him back to his own, and giving him a lecture (he did his best) like the best man he was.

Was he having second thoughts on marrying you? No way! He will just be nervous about how the wedding will go. With his bad luck, something horrible is bound to happen.

At the day of the wedding, Bennett can imagine himself constantly seeking reassurance from his best man.

"What if I mess up?" Questions Bennett to Razor, anxious hands fiddling with his tie.

"Messing up is . . . normal." Razor will reassure him, but Bennett will shake his head.

“But it's me. When I mess up, it's always . . . catastrophic . . . ”

Bennett hoped that at least for his wedding way, everything will go smoothly. A perfect day, for you and for him. He won't embarrass you or himself. He won't forget the rings, he won't have his clothes tucked inside out, he will not spill any food or drinks on himself or on his guests, there will be no random Hilichurl attacks - none of that.

He really hoped for the Archons to spare him from his bad luck. 

He will be able to stand by the altar with confidence and a smile, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

As Bennett is consumed with his thoughts, his eyes drew to the small table at the side of his bed and caught sight of the picture of the two of you perched on the surface. It was a picture you took with a kamera after one of his adventures. The two of you smiling happily as he showcased the loot of vegetables and wheat he gathered in numerous luxurious chests. It was good day, that picture was. He found more resources than usual. Of course, he learned from the Traveler that most of the chest they found contained treasures but hey, vegetables are better than nothing, right?

Bennett stared at your smiling face and can feel the heat creep on his cheeks as he imagined you in a pretty, white wedding dress, smiling at him so shyly and cute - oh, Archons, help him. May them have mercy on him. Of course, you always looked pretty to him - so, so pretty - but in your wedding day? Archons, he doesn't know if he can take that. It'll be too much for his big heart.

He can only imagine how your wedding will play out, but there is one thing he was sure of and that is that he will burst into tears once he laid his eyes upon you - and not the soft cry most men do in their wedding, oh, not at all like that. His heart is too big with too much love for you, and too soft to control his emotions properly.

Bennett will cry (bawl, actually), his tears of joy coming in streams, and it was loud enough for strangers to think he was grieving over a deceased loved one. He was hiccupping and sobbing, will probably be holding on to his vest tightly as if his entire lifeline depended on the pressure of how he crumpled the fabric. He hoped that in that time, Razor or the Traveler will lend him a hand and calm him down before he can ruin his own wedding.

Bennett, as he happily imagined that fateful day to come in the future (spoilers again, it will) did not feel a tear slip from the corner of his eye as he drifted off to a pleasant slumber with a beaming smile.

The boy absolutely adores you.

[katzkinder]

gear and youtaro head canons? 🥺

Of course, I’d be happy to!! :D

Youtarou likes to go through Gear’s old recipe books for new things to make. …And then serves them to the unsuspecting werewolf.

Sometimes You will leave silly and sweet messages for Gear on their fridge in magnets. Gear rearranges them into inappropriate ones to make his partner laugh

Youtarou doesnt play games very often compared to Gear, but sometimes he’ll join him for streams. He is REALLY bad with horror games… So Gear likes to play those with him. He thinks it’s cute how Youtarou will cling to him

One time Gear had an ink cartridge blow up in his face and Youtarou wanted to be mad about the ruined office space, but. Kinda hard when you’re laughing at how stupid your boyfriend looks

Youtarou carries around earplugs for the times when the noise of city life becomes too overwhelming for Gear to handle, in addition to snacks for when his blood sugar starts getting low and the irritability comes out.

They have a system of not going to bed angry with one another, and sometimes this means staying up extra late to work out the problem. It’s always worth it

Youtarou and Gear aren’t just supernatural consultants. They also act as peacekeepers between London’s inhuman population, and pick up C3’s slack

Gear’s nails quickly grow into claws, so he clips them every other day, and files them on off days, so he doesn’t risk nicking his partner

One of the first things Gear does after waking up is “feed” his roombas crumbs for their “breakfast.” Youtarou finds this unspeakably cute.

Gear still has some of Youtarou’s first fumbling attempts at plushies safely locked away somewhere in their flat. They’re ugly, lumpy, made by a beginner’s hands, but he loves them

After his grandma died, Youtarou had his whole neighborhood in a panic looking for him because he’d run off and no one could find him. Gear, of course, did; took him back to the church and kept him safe and warm until morning. Any scolding was put on hold because of how clearly distressed his friend was, but they did have a big heart to heart talk about death. On some level, Gear realizes that his immortality is a comfort to Youtarou, who rests easy with the knowledge that Gear will never leave him.

I have more but this is already getting pretty long ^^;; Hope you enjoyed these anon!!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silence

This was a request made by my Ao3 reader MayaMelissa...

Some fluff for Bifur the dwarf...

It's the first story of mine in which nothing is actually said. There is meaning and there's one sentence almost spoken, but I - who generally writes 60% direct speech - have foregone it as much as I could for this.

Enjoy <3

@lathalea there it is :D Thanks for your HC that I shamelessly visualised for this :D

Words: 800

 You woke up to silence.

Numerous were the people who could not deal with the absence of sound and words as if the lack exacerbated their own emptiness; to them, nothing was more oppressive or – funnily enough – louder than the dull thumping of their own heartbeat in their ears.

To you, silence was home.

The grunt coming from Bifur carried a world of meaning and an ocean of love; there was the question if you were okay or if it had been a particularly bad nightmare, laced with honest affection and deep loyalty.

You hummed in reply, knowing only too well that you didn’t need to actually say anything for him to hear the echo of your most insistent haunting dream in the breathless sound.

It was always the same, your brother – a soul you had seen grow and unfold in the body of a warrior so fierce and fearless – lay motionless in a pool of his own blood and your voice froze within your throat; there were no words that could even encapsule the horror seizing your chest and – in these terrible first seconds after waking – Bifur was the only one to be able to give you any kind of solace.

He heard what was beyond mere verbal communication for – even after the violent removal of the axe fragment from his skull and weathered brow – he was a traveller between languages, a wanderer on the paths amidst static terms, and a guide in the realm of the unspeakable.

Of course, he was working hard to get a grasp on the situation; words were like sands of grain – scattered haphazardly in his beautiful mind – that he had to pick up one by one to put them onto the appropriate pile, and he did so with stubborn determination, but – after so many years of friendship and love – you understood his strange mix of different languages and gestures instinctively as if it was your mother tongue.

Sitting up in your shared bed, Bifur took your hand and kneaded it gently between his own paws – strong in battle and delicate in his craft – to work out the knots he knew to be there; he had seen you clench your fists all through the nightmare before and could foretell the pains that would plague you come morning.

You looked up into his stoic face, marked by time and an eventful life, and found that sweet gleam of patient reassurance in those deep, dark eyes that you so loved. He was no longer the most handsome of dwarves – maybe he had never been to begin with – but Bifur was beautiful in ways that were not immediately visible to the naked eye.

He loved a good boardgame, he enjoyed sitting by the fire and fiddling with his intricate and beautiful projects, he was devoted to his family and their beloved offspring; despite the gruff first impression he tended to make, Bifur was a happy dwarf – now that the worst lay far in the past – and that quiet, homely bliss you two shared made him glow like molten gold.

Oh, neither one of you would have been worth getting statues in your image erected, but you were content looking at each other – peacefully, patiently, and purposefully – and finding everything you needed for the decades to come in the face of your One.

“Just a bad dream,” your headshake said, “never mind.”

Bifur’s mouth quirked into a soft smile; he would always care about your troubles –whether they were real or phantasmagorical – and hold you through the throes of your most desperate memories that haunted you still.

A vague nod at the now dim fireplace in the corner of the room – two comfortable armchairs blocking your view on the smouldering embers – invited you to get up and chase the last vestiges of the nightmare by walking a few steps, rekindling the fire, and enjoying the wakeful company of your beloved husband and best friend.

As per usual, it was a soft suggestion rather than an exhortation, and you shook your head, scooting closer to his solid, comforting warmth.

“I love you,” you mouthed the words blurrily, certain that he’d catch the feeling more than the actual shape of letters barely sketched out on your numb lips.

Another grunt – deep and vibrating – paired with a smile so radiant that oftentimes people were stunned into companionable silence upon witnessing it for the first time followed, and a heavy but gentle hand came to rest on your trembling shoulder.

You were pulled into his arms and against his broad, warm chest effortlessly and – as you lay thus cradled in the scintillating comfort of your love – you finally fell back asleep, knowing that whatever bad dream might befall you, Bifur would be right there to outlast it in patient, loving silence.

If you liked this, please feel free to drop me a line :D

[taylors-fourth-cat-meow]

I am interested in that human girl, Briar, and lots of people theorized that she's most likely going to end up with tam. Do you know this briar x tamlin thing and if so, do you have any theories on how are they going to end up together?

Hi anon!!

(Two similar anons thought I'd answer them together lol)

Yeahh I have too seen some theories about Briar X Tamlin. And yeahh it cud be a sleeping beauty re telling.. and although I am not a fan of the original lore I wud like to see how it plays out here? And uk it's possible. Tamlin seems to be like the only member of the main characters to show that he can love a human. Rhysie only fell in love with Feyre because she was his mate. He didn't care about Clair Beddor being killed and plus lets be honest, he only wanted to "fight for the humans" to woo feyrug.

But Tamlin fell in love with Feyre when she was a human girl shows the potential of him loving a human again.

Honestly there is no point in theorising anything about a sjm book cause that woman writes on her whims. I bet she has already forgotten she introduced this girl named Briar.

But if it were to happen? Ig it wud be something like Briar wandering into the Spring Court. Finding Tamlin the beast and going "I've always wanted a pet.... Oh well ig this big golden retriever wud do" I mean that's what I wud have my oc do lol. But we don't really have anything on Briar's character expert again, the "unspeakable horrors" every sjm character has to go through in order to be interesting enough. And I think the humans can actually play a big role in re building the spring court. Like only few ppl still remain there and a country cannot function without inhabitants. So maybe something like Tamlin and (his one frnd or someone who is in his corner. Someone who is NOT Lucien and not related to the IC.) Decide to allow humans into the spring Court during the harsh human winter. Humans in turn cultivate the land and other stuff which helps a lot in rebuilding the economy and stuff. That's where he meets Briar and maybe she is his mate? Anything absolutely anything that has nothing to do with NC is what I want for Tamlin.

That being said I am not really in support of this theory. Because A) Sure sjm is just going to put in how Briar is just a replacement of Feyre or her Stans definitely will and Tam deserves better than that. B) Briar owes Feyrug a life debt and like I've said before I want the IC as far away from my Tam as possible. C) Tbh don't think it wud be quite fair to Briar after she has suffered so much at the hands of the Fey. And Lastly, D) because again Briar is mortal? She will die and Tamlin will live and I think Tamlin doesn't need to suffer any more loss. (Unless like Lorcan he gives up his immortality but then again, he is a hl who cares for his ppl so idk I don't want that for him either)

[olreid]

hi! could you rec me some sci fi books if u dont mind?

YEAH!

ender's game - i know orson scott card sucks and everything else ive ever tried to read by him sucks but ender's game might be my fave scifi of all time. if you've only ever read the first one or seen the movie or something you should really check out the sequels - the world opens up in a huge way and it's about how to do an ethnography of aliens and what it means to die too soon but also what it's like to outlive everyone you ever knew and about redemption for both individuals and entire species as a whole.. what if your first contact with aliens was a devastating war that did unspeakable damage to another culture and society? could your relationship ever recover? i'm not even scratching the surface of all that these books have to say i just think they r great.

DUNE - SORRY it's just great!!! i love dune!!! dune is the kind of series where every chapter has an epigraph from a book in-world that frank herbert made up for flavor!!! but instead of leaving it at that in later books you actually meet the authors of those books as fleshed out characters!!! he's nuts!!! only the first three are worth reading imo but it's like. such an immersive world with cool technology and factional politics and urgent questions of planetary and societal preservation and it's about consolidation of power and how to rule an empire and the futility of trying to outrun your destiny and also BIG WORMS.

roadside picnic - first contact story that's more about the ramifications of first contact on earth and its inhabitants; you never actually see the aliens onscreen but rather come to know them through the things they left behind. ur classic place-that's-super-fucked-up story <3 can we ever understand alien life? do we want to?

murderbot - murderbot!!! series made up of short little installments that are easy and engaging reads. what if a robot designed as an instrument of war emancipated itself so that it could have more free time to watch tv and then accidentally ended up caring about and trying to protect a bunch of human scientists who accidentally got themselves tangled up in corporate espionage and cover-ups and assassination attempts etc.? GOOD BOOKS, THATS WHAT.

hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy - on the off-chance that u haven't read this or the sequels, you should! easy and fun to read and has a surrealist approach to scifi that i really appreciate. science fiction is a genre where quite literally anything can happen and douglas adams takes that premise seriously!!! mice created the earth. robots have manic depression. you can watch the end of the world as many times as you want. it's all here baby and it BOPS

solaris - BOOK OF ALL TIME!!! scientists have discovered a planet that's covered in a sentient ocean and the main character is one of the few scientists remaining in a remote observation station orbiting the planet itself. psychological horror and cool made-up science! what more could u want.

the three-body problem - putting the SCIENCE in science fiction. the pacing on this one is a bit slow and it's a first-contact story so it takes place on earth rather than in space but the last 30 pages of this book.... bonkers. made me excited about science which is a real feat. also has some cool stuff to say about video games that reminds me a lot of ender's game, but i digress.

the left hand of darkness - technically scifi altho this has a much more speculative fiction/future fantasy feel to it imo? much more emphasis on worldbuilding and statecraft and politics and less on like. Science and Technology. GREAT book tho! gay people who need each other to survive the winter.. never gets old

ancillary justice / imperial radch series - also heavier on the politics and statecraft and lighter on the technology but SERIES OF ALL TIME!!!! it's about sentience and agency and loyalty and revenge and empire and when you're stuck on a road trip with someone who was born to annoy you. i read it weeks ago and simply cant stop thinking about it

i think that's all for now? anyone else is welcome to add their scifi recs below <3

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 6

A little pain relief for everything I've put you through

Read on AO3

When Azriel landed in the training ring he shook his head, exasperated with himself. Now that he was here, what exactly did he plan to do? He couldn’t very well find Gwyn’s room, shake her awake, and beg her to forgive him.

He took a moment to survey the ring, racks of wooden weapons, steel, shields. The Valkyries had grown from desperation to get Nesta on the right track to three females surviving the Blood Rite to a small legion of Illyrians, priestesses, and other fae. They would be outgrowing the space soon, and he pondered that as the stone glowed blue in the moonlight.

Gwyn had never spoken much about the Blood Rite, not that he could blame her. The Illyrian tradition was barbaric under normal circumstances, and much more so with Briallyn’s meddling – with the intention of killing all three of the females. Azriel couldn’t help but grin to himself.

How spectacularly had her plan backfired.

He had not admitted that Cassian was not the only one sleepless and mortified that week, but where the general was a barely-contained force of will and expression Azriel was schooled in hiding his emotion. He’d had to stay stoic – to find Briallyn and Koschei, to support his brother while his mate fought for her life. But his relationship with Gwyn had begun to develop by then, as well. Slowly. It was all he could do some days not to fly in and destroy them all. She had already suffered unspeakable horrors, and the possibility that she had been at the mercy of Illyrian males – bred with a thirst for blood and flesh – had been nearly unbearable.

When that general is finished hurting her she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.

He ran a hand through his onyx hair, remembering Nesta’s words. His shadows seemed to wither around him, drooping over his shoulders and wings. How had it come to this?

The shadowsinger sat himself down on the ground, knees drawn up. He rested his forearms on them and gazed at the ink-dark sky painted with stars. Much like his High Lord, seeing the stars had always been a comfort to Azriel – a reminder that he was free from the prison of his upbringing, that he had escaped and had replaced his father and brothers with a family that cared for him and showed him what love and brotherhood really meant.

His found family had grown so much in such a short time. He was grateful for that, for so many reasons. Rhys had emerged from Under the Mountain a broken male and Feyre had helped piece him back together. She had quickly become a glue for all of them, holding them tight and treating them with such love that Azriel was often awed by it. It wasn’t hard defending her, being dedicated to her safety as High Lady. She was far more than a monarch to him.

Then came Nesta and Elain, and what a storm that had been. Cassian and Nesta were meant to be since the beginning, but that path had been long and painful, and not just for his ears and the new… sanitation concerns for public living spaces in the house. Sometimes he was surprised that he counted Nesta as his friend. She had been intentionally hurtful so many times. How often had he seen the pain in his brother’s countenance because of something she had said or done? And yet now he understood her, maybe more than he cared to admit. She had been hurting and afraid and overflowing with self-loathing.

He had hurt Gwyn for those very reasons.

Gwyn.

He felt his shoulders and wings sag with the weight of Nesta’s questions tonight. Accusations thinly veiled as questions, and each one like a carefully crafted throwing knife plunged into his gut. He’d made her cry for at least the third time in as many weeks. Training and working to exhaustion, and not being able to sleep because of the worsening nightmares – nightmares that had cruelly transformed to remind her that he had abandoned her.

Even his shadows felt heavy.

The spymaster hung his head, shame like a blanket smothering him in summer heat. How could he ever forgive himself for causing that pain? It was a fate he had personally prevented, and now she was forced to experience it in her dreams. Because of him. Because he was a coward.

Azriel let his eyes drift closed and focused on his breathing. Sleep would not be an option tonight, and he could only pray that the priestess was sound asleep in the house, getting the rest she so desperately needed. Training didn’t seem to be in the cards either, as he sifted through the torrent of thoughts and emotions. He just needed to sit and think. And in the morning, he would speak with Gwyn as soon as he could. He would fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

“Azriel?”

The inky tendrils flitted to life around him at the sound of that voice. Cauldron damn him, of course she would find him now. But part of him was relieved to be able to talk to her so soon – that she was even here.

“Azriel, are you alright?” His heart squeezed at the softness of Gwyn’s voice, music to his ears – a sweet melody with harmonies of concern and kindness. How could she still be so kind to him?

“I don’t deserve to be asked that. Especially not by you,” he murmured, staring down at the stone between his feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Azriel.” Her soft footsteps seemed to echo in his head, a ringing alarm that she was coming closer. He didn’t want to run from her, but his heart was still racing. How could he face her inevitable rejection? He noticed her shadow fall over the space between his legs and when he looked up she was crouching in front of him, eyes shining with sincerity. “You deserve for people to care about you. And I do. I won’t just leave you out here alone when anyone could see the weight of the world pressing down on you.”

Gods, but wasn’t that exactly what he had done to her?

The shadowsinger had no air in his chest as he studied her. The expression on her face was difficult to describe – caring and teasing and scolding all rolled into glittering ocean eyes and the slightest quirk of her full lips. She rose and his gaze followed as she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to stand with her. It took more courage than he cared to admit to place his violence-scarred hands in hers, but their warmth spread through him like sunshine warming his bones as she helped him to his feet.

She didn’t let go, and that gave him the strength he needed.

“Nesta found me at the river house tonight. She had… a lot to say,” Azriel began as he saw color bloom on Gwyn’s cheeks. She looked down to their hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for her to –“ He squeezed her hands and she snapped her head back up to meet his gaze.

“I deserved every single bit of venom she threw at me, Gwyn. Do not apologize.” The shadowsinger looked down, then, unsure how to move forward or which of his many transgressions he should address first. So he asked, “Is it true? About the nightmares? That… that I don’t come for you?” He could feel the emotion catching in his throat, cracking his voice. His eyes burned as he looked back to the priestess. Her lips were pressed together as she tried to keep the silver lining her eyes from spilling down over her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered, lashes lowering as the silent tears fell. Each droplet was a nick in his heart, the guilt and pain salting those wounds. How could she be so strong, to endure this agony and yet hold the hands that caused it? He released one of the hands and lifted it to her face, hesitating with his fingers a breath away from her cheek. Azriel had his mouth open to ask if he could touch her when she leaned her face into his palm. He brushed at her tears with his thumb before bringing up his other hand, cupping her jaw.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, pleading silently for her to look at him. The shining pools that opened to him were so enthralling, depths shimmering with trepidation. Gods, what he would do to bring back the joy in those eyes. “I will always come for you. No matter what. And I will never be able to forgive myself that there might be any part of your mind or your heart or your soul that could believe otherwise.” He watched as she took a shuddering breath, but her eyes held his and he was emboldened.

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn. For all of this. I was a fool and a coward and I let my guilt and my fear own me. And it only hurt you.”

Gwyn’s hands covered the scars on his own as she pulled them away from her face, returning them to their place entwined between them. Azriel stayed silent and her head tilted as she studied him.

“What could you possibly be afraid of?” she released a hoarse, hiccupped laugh. The shadowsinger could only gulp down a breath and look toward the stars.

“I… I was afraid of the feelings I was developing for you. And of the pain I would feel when you would see all the things I have done and the monster that I am and run away from me. Or that you would be hurt because of this darkness inside of me.” His eyes had returned to hers and, while he saw understanding swimming there, her expression was uncompromising.

“Have I not been hurt already?” Her bluntness shocked him, and he felt the slightest twinge of panic that told him to run. Her fingers tightened like a vice around his hands and he saw her eyes darken, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you dare even think about running away, Azriel. Not now. I deserve better from you.” Even his shadows seemed focused on where their hands touched, intent on keeping them tied together.

She did. She deserved so much better. Better than what he’d done. Shame washed over him that he could have thought to flee from her. Again. He had already wronged her… too many times. But he had come here determined to right those wrongs. Azriel wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give her what she deserved, if he would ever be good enough for her. But he sure as fuck was going to try.

“You’re right,” he conceded, that panic replaced by resolution and a faint, foolish glimmer of hope. “I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned softly and he thought his chest would burst from relief. They were still here, together, talking. They were going to figure this out.

“Why did you run, Azriel? If you care for me, like you say,” she demanded, that sea-deep stare piercing straight into his soul. “Why? Why are you afraid of me seeing who you are?”

He should have known that she would demand an explanation. Gwyn was strong and confident. She knew her worth and what she deserved, and him sharing the story behind all of his idiotic decisions was the very least of that. But he was not prepared, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to darken others’ lives with his history.

“That’s… a long story, Gwyn,” he huffed, hoping that might be the end of it. But he saw her eyes, determination and challenge and fire blazing blue in the moonlight.

“We have all night.” She released his hands and gestured to the darkness around them. She would not be deterred, would not back down until she accomplished her goal. It was one of the many things he admired so much about her. “Should we sit?”

Azriel found himself smiling as he nodded, sitting cross-legged on the stone. Even though the impending admissions rang as a death knell in his mind, it warmed his heart to know that she cared so deeply – that she wanted to know the worst of him.

He had put her through enough, and he could relive his pain and push out his fear for this night, if only for her.

“I don’t know where to start.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he was usually good at hiding. But then Gwyn – that sweet, incredible, special female – gathered his other hand with those long, pale, graceful fingers and he felt the tension ease. He looked at her, taking in the beauty and serenity of her features. Freckles were scattered over cheeks stained pink, an encouraging smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“The beginning seems like a good place, don’t you think?”

So that’s where he began.

~~~

Azriel was not proud that he could not find the strength to look at Gwyn as he walked her through his story, but he could still hear and feel her reactions. And he dared a glance at her from time to time, trying to read everything her eyes were saying. He told her about the cell he was kept in as a child, how little touch or affection or love he had experienced, and how the shadows around him seemed to move and react and speak. She clutched his hand tighter when he told her about what had happened to them, that his brothers had set fire to them to see how he would heal. She hadn’t said a word, but he smelled the salt from tears and felt impossibly soft strokes of her thumbs over those scars.

He explained his time in Illyria and the fearsome reputation he and Cassian had to maintain, simply to make up for the circumstances of their birth. And while Cassian had been brute force and power, Azriel was deadly calm, precision, intellect, terror. He admitted to her how he had hoped to find validation in his role as spymaster under Rhysand’s father, and that he could truly revel in his duties under the right circumstances.

“Those soldiers I killed in Sangravah,” he told her. “I would have enjoyed dragging out their deaths as long as possible for what they did to you.”

Gwyn’s hands were so gentle around his as he told her how much the death and darkness grated against his soul, and how he’d had nothing to tether him to the light. He talked to her about Mor, a waste of literal centuries. And then, somehow, he told her about Elain. Not that he’d loved her, because he never had. But that he’d felt entitled to her, like he deserved what his brothers had found with the other two sisters. That he was the third brother and she was the third sister and that was all that mattered. His entitlement, his lust and desire for the bond - as opposed to love for the person - just another ugly facet of his true self.

“So I suppose that brings me to you, to these past few weeks.” Azriel made sure to meet her gaze for this. “I panicked after the necklace, because I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me to see that hurt in your eyes. And when I told you things would go back to normal I still didn’t know what to do. I thought distance would be best between us, because I knew you would be able to draw me out of myself. And that was dangerous.”

The shadowsinger’s throat burned with emotion when Gwyn smiled softly. He could see so much roaring in her gaze, but there was no sign of pity or disgust or fear. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair before resting it atop their other clasped hands. Wetness burned his eyes, but he didn’t care.

“When I found you in the rain that night, I could smell your tears and I saw your hands – split knuckles and bruised, swollen fingers. And,” he choked down his feelings even as the tears began their descent, “and I was torn apart with the guilt. It was my fault that you were doing that to yourself. I might has well have put those marks on you with my own two vile hands.” Azriel closed his eyes and let the tears fall – not many, but enough. The silence rang through his ears, his history hanging between them. He waited for the fear, the rejection, especially when she drew her hands away from his. But his eyes snapped open when delicate calloused fingers stroked his cheeks. Gwyn had risen to her knees to dry the wetness on them, her stare a storm of trust and understanding... and compassion.

“Thank you for telling me your story, Azriel,” she whispered. “I see you. You have nothing to fear. I’m still right here.” Then she smiled brightly, and he unraveled.

“Gwyn, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me – I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But I care for you as more than a teacher, more than a friend. You are a light in my dark life and these past few weeks have been miserable without you in them.” Her smile widened slightly and he reached out a thumb to catch a stray tear that had fallen from those precious, beautiful eyes. He felt his own grin pushing his cheeks against her warm hands.

“I care for you, too, Azriel. As more than a friend.”

He held that watery stare until she released his face. She stood up, brushing off her knees before reaching her hands to him again to help him to his feet. He tilted his head curiously at the determination flashing in her eyes.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” she began, looking down at her hands in his. “Before we pursue anything… romantically, I need to be sure that this isn’t something that will happen again.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “We both have darkness and fear and I understand that. But if you feel it taking over, I need you to come to me, to talk to me. Because if I open my heart to you and this happens again – if you insist on shutting yourself off from me or deciding for me what I deserve or want – I will be heartbroken.” The confession left Azriel raw.

“What can I do, Gwyn? How can I reassure you?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“We are going to go back to how things were before this mess.” She had returned her hand to his and gave both a squeeze. A shadow darted down around them, as if to approve of the contact. “The way it was that led us to realize that we feel the way we do. And you are going to prove to me that we can have what we had before I found out about that stupid, lovely necklace. Do you think you can do that?” He could have fallen to his knees seeing the hope in those ocean eyes, mirroring the spark of hope inside of him. It was something he hadn’t dared to let himself fully feel with her.

“I will.” Azriel’s voice was low and rough. “I swear it.”

“And then we can decide what comes next. And I can prove to you that your hands and your darkness are just as important to me as the rest of you.”

He was grinning like a fool, he knew. He still had a chance, because Gwyneth Berdara was the definition of grace and love. And by the Mother he would not screw this up.

He felt more than saw her wrap her arms around his back, pulling herself into him. For a moment he was frozen by the intimacy of it – shocked by her initiation of it – but he quickly let his arms settle around her waist. He breathed in, pulling her tighter, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head.

“Don’t let me down, Shadowsinger,” she muttered into his chest. He chuckled and dared to move one hand to comb through her hair. “I want to see… what comes next.” He wanted to see, too. He wanted to know what it was like to look to the future and see more than dread and loneliness and exhaustion. He could see it with her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Berdara.”

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[uvobreakmylegs]

Compliance

another fic inspired by the opening scene of a horror movie. This time it’s Feitan being awful

Warnings: torture, graphic depictions of violence, graphic imagery, blood, slight smut, Feitan makes the reader do awful shit

“Stop screaming. We've barely gotten started.”

Feitan's words went unnoticed by the man strapped to the table beneath him, who yelled and struggled at his bonds as he tried to escape the hot poker Feitan was pressing against his side. You weren't sure who the man was; Feitan hadn't told you anything other than to get downstairs, and you'd done so without question. It was a scenario you were used to by now, and experience had taught you that if you just went along with it you were more likely to get out of this particular instance unscathed.

So when Feitan had kicked the struggling man into that torture room, the most you did was flinch at the noise. Trying to help the man would be a wasted effort and would just make Feitan upset with you, and you had no desire to give him any excuse to add to the scars that littered your skin.

You sat quietly in the corner as Feitan roughed the man up, stripping him from the waist up before he was strapped to the familiar metal table that sat in the center of the room.

It was sad that you were used to such things now. That he had shown you so much violence, so much darkness that resided within one man's soul, that you had become numb to it. It hadn't been like that at the beginning. Originally he needed to strap you to that chair to make you watch, and you cried and screamed at the things you saw. There had even been times where you had begged for the lives of those being tortured, and the results of doing so had been disastrous for both you and his victim as Feitan interpreted that as you having feelings for them. Those unfortunates were forced to linger on for days before they were granted the mercy of death, while the scars, bites and bruises he left on your skin increased in number.

Just don't say anything and get through it as best you can.

And that had worked for a time. You stayed as a silent observer in your corner while Feitan worked, only getting up when he had given you permission to do so. Do as he says and you won't get hurt.

But this time was going to be different.

Only a week ago he had confronted you, telling you that he wanted you to do more. When you'd asked him what that meant, he had rolled his eyes and answered “I'm not content with you just watching while I work anymore. I want you to assist me.”

It took a few seconds to realize that he was telling you to help torture people, and your throat seized up as you stared at him dumbly. Feitan just ignored your reaction, continuing by telling you that he'd let you choose what you wanted to do, that it could be as simple as taking out an eyeball or breaking a finger.

“I could even mark where you should cut,” he said mockingly, “would you like that? I paint the man, you cut the lines?”

You wouldn't be able to stomach doing the things that he did to people. But there was no way you would be able to talk your way out of this; there was nothing you could do once Feitan had made up his mind.

His musings on the tortures you would be able to perform got gradually more gruesome the longer he continued, and you needed to say something before he became upset with your lack of response and just chose for you. And with him, he would choose the worst thing he could think of.

Then your suggestion had spilled from your lips before you could really think about it, interrupting him. He paused and asked you to repeat yourself. You did so, and though it was hard to tell with the bandanna he wore, his facial expression didn't change, but you caught the slight glint in his eyes.

“..... Interesting.”

Feitan turned to leave the room, stopping only once to look back over at you while you tried not to have a panic attack as you second-guessed yourself and what you had volunteered yourself for.

“Teeth, huh?”

The hammer was heavy on your lap. The chisel was as well, but the hammer was a solid weight on your legs that you had to constantly readjust to try and feel comfortable, the gravity making it weigh like an anchor as you waited for Feitan to call you to his side.

By now Feitan had tossed the poker aside in favor of a new torture device, one that resembled a pair of pliers that he used to start the removal of the man's fingernails. The man screamed every time they were pulled out with a sickening rip, his struggles beginning anew when Feitan turned to deposit the nails into a small metal bowl to the side of him.

Feitan had barely looked at you this whole time and you hadn't been called up yet. A small, naive part of you hoped that you wouldn't have to. After all, you rationalized, the thing he wanted from you wouldn't help in interrogating the man – if anything, it would hinder it. Sometimes, when his victims were stubborn enough, they would hold out against the pain for as long as humanly possible, and that stubbornness would drive Feitan into such a rage that he would prolong their suffering long into the night, not being satisfied until he had put them through everything they were physically capable of and getting the satisfaction of watching the light in their eyes fade. It enraged him for anyone to defy him like that, and he wanted the pleasure of bringing them pain to belong to him and him alone. Maybe this man would be like that. It would mean immense pain for him, and you would need to sit there the entire time, but that way you wouldn't need to play any further part in this. But even as you silently begged the man to stay strong, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn't be getting out of this. The man was a wreck, voice hoarse with tears and saliva streaming down the sides of his face as he begged for the torture to end.

Feitan reached the thumb of the man's left hand when he couldn't take it any more.

“I'll talk!” the man screeched, “I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but for the love of God, stop please!”

“Then talk,” Feitan answered, calmly setting down the pliers and leaning back while the man gasped for breath.

“Lie, and it'll be much worse,” he added.

The man nodded desperately, eager to please for the sake of his life. Meanwhile you sat with a pit forming in your stomach. Your eyes went back to the tools sitting in your lap and you would have let out a small sigh if you weren't worried that Feitan might notice.

“Th-the info was given to me by a-a woman! Her n-name was Marceline, I think!” the man yelled.

“You 'think'?” Feitan asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I-I know it was! That was her name!” the man insisted as his eyes grew wide on realizing his mistake.

“She's an older woman! Red hair, with a scar on her neck. She told me to feed that information to the troupe!” he continued.

“And you gave us that rotten info knowing it was a lie?”

“I-I just-!”

“You were hoping we'd fall for that trap, right? That none of us would come after you because we'd be dead,” Feitan's cold voice cut through.

“Too bad you're unlucky.”

The man flinched when Feitan picked the pliers back up.

“Please! I've told you everything!” he begged.

“I know.”

There was confusion in that man's eyes when Feitan turned his back on him, walking over to a shelf to place the bloody pliers. The man looked to you as he had done several times since the interrogation had started, confusion in his eyes as he tried to get some clue as to what was going to happen to him.

When Feitan spoke again, his words were directed at you.

“Get over here.”

The hammer and chisel hung at your sides as you stood, the hammer's weight pulling down on your dominant arm and making it hang slightly lower as you approached the table. Feitan walked towards it as well, a new device in hand while the man's protests began again, begging to be let go.

“I've told you everything!” he repeated.

“You said that,” Feitan answered, clearly annoyed.

“Then let me go! I'll do whatever you say, whatever the troupe wants, but don't hurt me anymore!”

Feitan tsked.

“Pathetic. So much bravado earlier, and now this.”

He wrenched the man's jaw open and slipped in a metal piece that fitted itself to either side of his mouth, forcing his mouth to stay open when Feitan's hands pulled away.

“What happens now isn't for the troupe. It's for my own pleasure,” he said.

His hands went into his pockets, and he glanced to you across the table.

“Your turn.”

They were words that you had been dreading, and your palms felt sweaty as you gripped the hammer to your chest, taking in deep breaths to try and calm yourself. The man was looking up at you, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he pleaded for you to stop, though the words weren't easy to understand with the way his lips had been forced open.

Feitan spoke your name in a warning tone and you bit your lip – if he needed to say anything else it would mean punishment for you.

Slowly, you lifted the chisel and placed the edge against the top of his central incisors. You couldn't stop the trembling in your hand and the chisel rattled against his teeth; to you it seemed like it echoed through the room.

When you lifted the hammer the man was red in the face, screaming at you to stop. You wished you could apologize to him, just let out a quick “I'm sorry” for what little it was worth. But Feitan wouldn't like that. And if you took any longer to get this started he would do something unspeakable to you.

You lifted the hammer over your head.

'Gravity does most of the work,' you told yourself. Like that helped.

You swung it down.

The crack that sounded reverberated in your ears as you stood petrified, watching the man beneath you writhe in pain after three of his teeth managed to fly out of his mouth, blood gushing from the open wounds. With the angle you had hit it them, some of the teeth behind the ones you had knocked out looked slightly askew and you looked back to the hammer, noting just how substantial its weight was.

“Do it again.”

Feitan's voice cut through your confused thoughts, and you rushed to comply, adjusting the chisel again without looking at him. He still sounded annoyed.

It sounded like the man was trying to beg you to stop again, but you ignored him as you swung your hammer again, taking out a canine and some of his premolars. They managed to fly out of his mouth again and hit the metal table sounding like pieces of hail on a car. You took less time to compose yourself after that, switching to the other side of his mouth and swinging again.

Even though he was practically out of his mind with pain, there was a hatred in the man's eyes as he looked up at you. It was hard to blame him for that, and you wished you had an excuse to stop, but fear of Feitan kept you in check as it usually did.

With the top gum having been turned into a mess of missing and broken teeth, you switched to the lower set. You were halfway done, you told yourself. Just a few more swings and then this would be over.

It wouldn't be, but hopefully your part in it would be ended.

You hit one of his bottom canines and a few drops of blood had somehow managed to spatter onto your cheek. Instinctively you set the hammer down, wiping at your face with a shaky hand. At least that gave you an reason for taking a break.

Feitan had been quiet since his last order, and throughout this you had been too scared to even look at him, fearing that might trigger him into some sort of action against you. But as the man gasped in pain, against your better judgment you looked over across the table.

Maybe it was because of your victim's screams, or just the way your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until you looked at him. He had changed positions when you weren't looking, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white, his figure completely rigid and his eyes practically burning a hole in you, excitement dancing in that normally cold gaze.

Was he.... Aroused by this?

You snapped your head back to the man, whose protests had become weaker, only able to let out strained noises that vaguely resembled the word “no”. Picking up the hammer, you raised it once again. Just a little bit more, and then it'd be over. You could go back to your corner and let the numbness carry you through the rest of this scene.

Feitan's breathing was still audible.

The man's tongue was still moving, trying to form words to appeal to you.

The blood from the holes in his gums dripped down to the back of his throat, making him choke and cough up onto the now bloody edge of the chisel.

The amount of blood in that man's mouth.

And you were the one who did this to him.

“I'm going to throw up.”

The words barely escape your lips before you practically drop the hammer and chisel and rush out of the room, sprinting up the concrete steps to try and make it to the bathroom in time.

It was one of the few small mercies Feitan granted you, that you could leave if you felt like you were going to be sick. Turns out, for a man who tortures people for a living, Feitan had no tolerance for vomit.

But it was a small mercy with a stipulation: you needed to come right back after you were finished. And he would typically wait for your return before he continued, intent on you witnessing everything.

As you threw up the meal you had eaten earlier, the bile already a clear taste in your mouth, your mind went back to the image of that man, and how you could count that Feitan would make you finish what you had started. All you could hope for at this moment was that he wouldn't be too upset with you leaving in the middle of it.

Surprisingly, he was waiting for you outside of the bathroom. Though he seemed calmer now, you looked down to the floor immediately after your eyes met.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, fiddling with your fingers, “I just needed a break. I'll go back down.”

“Don't bother,” he said, stopping you just as you made a move to walk past him.

“You did well enough. I'll let you off the hook for the rest of it.”

You nodded in response, but said nothing: whatever small mercy this is, there's going to be a catch somewhere.

“Go back to the bedroom. Undress, and wait for me.”

And there it is.

You looked back up at him, and while his posture was relaxed, that excitement you had seen earlier is still present in his gaze. So you were right that he was aroused, though perhaps at this point you shouldn't be too surprised about it.

“Okay.”

Feitan was already walking back to the basement stairway, and you wondered if he was going to kill that man downstairs, or set something up so that he was suffering even while Feitan had his way with you. For the sake of that soul down there, you hoped it was the former.

“Make sure you brush your teeth before I come back up,” he ordered.

He didn't take long to come back to the bedroom, spatters of blood visible on his dark clothes as he stalked towards your form while you sat still on the bed. His clothing was quickly removed and thrown to the floor, forgotten as Feitan used two blood-stained fingers to lift up your jaw and bring you into a chaste kiss.

The goosebumps that had formed on your arms while you had waited in the cold quickly vanished as he pushed you to your back, crawling over you to let his bloody hands trail over your body, tracing your healed scars while marking your skin with smears of that unfortunate man's blood. He kissed you again; this time it was more demanding and you opened your mouth in submission, the taste of cleansing mint still present as he dove his tongue in.

His hard length entered you shortly after and he started at a rough pace that had you grasping at the sheets, letting out small shrieks when he would lean down to bite you.

You would be hurting in the morning, but it was better to just go along with what he wanted.

He could do far worse than this.