#also i know there is a low chance but if anyone want to trade my giselle inclusions for ningnings i'd be very happy to swap <3

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[fairy-writes]

IM BACK!!! Here’s my second ask for your 900 followers!!

Could I get Douma x female reader with the dialogue prompt #17 please and thank you!!

Have free reign but FLUFFY!!!!!

ONE KISS LESS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Douma x Female!Demon!Reader

Prompt: “Will you let me fall in love with you?”

“Only if I can fall right back.”

“I’ll be sure to catch you when you do.” (Dialogue Prompt #17)

Notes: I have no clue if Douma is in character for this, but I’m trying anyway.

Some mild spoilers for Douma’s Blood Demon Art? But I don’t really go into detail, I only mention his weapon and what his ability does. 

I also stole the backstory of my kny character that I never published here (though I hadn’t figured out the pairing for that yet). 

__________________________________________________________________________

You were a peculiar character to Douma. Mostly because you never showed your face. 

You were a fellow demon, a low-level one. Though he learned it wasn’t because of any lack of talent on your part. On the contrary, you were quite powerful and had a myriad of clever and dirty tricks up your sleeve. You just never tried to get more power from Master Muzan. You were content to hide away in your little lair and eat whatever cocky demon slayer or regular human came by. 

The more he got to know you and your tricks, the more he decided he wanted you for his own.

So he started “conveniently” being in the area whenever you ventured out of your little house with pristine tatami mats and sliding doors. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a small Japanese-style home with a koi pond just on the edge of the Engawa. 

He discovered you mostly left your house to get more food for your fish. A mask always hid your face and your scissors in the sleeve of your kimono in case anyone got handsy with you. 

Which he also discovered happened more often than he would like. But he very well couldn’t do anything about it unless he wanted you to catch him. And he didn’t want that. Not yet, at least. 

When you finally did manage to catch him in his games, you weren’t upset like he was expecting. You were curious. 

“What would Upper Moon Two want with someone like me?” You ask, voice muffled through the ceramic and paint of your okame mask. The rosy cheeks mocked him, and he yearned to just rip it off and look upon your features. But that would scare you off. And he didn’t want that. Despite loving the idea of fear coloring your eyes. 

He gets the chance to see your face when he watches you almost die. 

You were dodging a swipe from a young demon slayer’s sword glinting a light blue in the moonlight. Douma watched from the trees, rainbow eyes flicking this way and that as the two of you traded blows. The demon slayer—a young boy of seventeen or eighteen—had cuts littering his face from your scissor blades, and your kimono was soaked in your blood from already healed wounds. 

Your white hannya mask is almost blinding in the light of the silver moon. Douma knows it’s just a trick of the light under the stars. But it’s stunning regardless. 

He steps in when you’re pinned against a tree by the Nichirin sword through your shoulder. The demon slayer stands triumphantly before you as he draws a shorter sword from its sheath on his opposite hip. 

Just as the blade comes down to sever your head from your neck, Douma whips out one of his gold-plated fans and freezes the demon slayer with his Blood Demon Art. The ice coats the slayer from his head to his toes, and Douma can see the frostbite settling in from underneath the ice.

You stumble away from the tree, tearing the Nichirin blade from your shoulder where the wound was already healing. In the blast of his fan, the ice had torn the mask from your face and shattered it against the ground, exposing your features for the world to see.

Brutal scars slit your mouth from the corners of your lips to your ears. They’re jagged and puckered and colored a perpetual angry red as if you had just received them. But if he were to guess, you had received them long ago. Likely when you first became a demon by Akaza’s hand—a fact he learned long after you two became acquainted. 

You had first gotten your scars when your husband flew into a violent rage after learning you could not bear him children, claiming you had mothered a child with someone else and was refusing to give him an heir. 

You had killed him with a blow to the head. 

Soon after, Akaza had found you covered in the blood of your husband’s head wound.

Never before had Douma wanted to thank Akaza for anything. But now he wanted to thank him for letting him meet you. 

Your relationship was a carefully cultivated thing. One built on trust on your part and scheming on his. But nevertheless, you two grew closer than Douma had planned. Until one day…

“Will you let me fall in love with you?” You whisper, face close and nose brushing his own. If he moved at all, he would have kissed you. 

And so he did. 

Just lightly, gently, as if he wasn’t even there. You inhaled, surprised, but you didn’t pull away. You press closer, a hand coming up to touch his unblemished face. Your hand is soft, like a feather. And he loved it as much as a demon could. 

But Douma pulled away with a mischievous smile. 

“Only if I can fall right back.” He teased and delighted when you smiled. It was a bit twisted with your scars marring your face. It was beautiful nonetheless. 

“I’ll be sure to catch you when you do.” You breathe and lean in to kiss him again. 

He grins against your lips. A small smile that twisted his features. But you couldn’t tell. Not when you pulled away and hid your face in your hands in utter joy. 

Oh, the plans he had for you.

[ellana-lavellan-official]

Solas and loneliness

Years ago (around a decade ago, to be frank) I read By The Still Waters. Even though solavellan is minor pairing there, once scene gave me goosebumps and got imprinted in my memory.

“It’s not too late,” the Inquisitor said. “I’m listening.” She smiled, though it was only a slight curl at the corners of her mouth. Her clan markings had disappeared for good now. “I’ll be here all night.”

Solas fell to his knees in front of her. Fenris still could not move. He could feel the demon’s fascination. It seemed almost to be holding its breath. Solas grasped both the Inquisitor’s hands in his and bowed his head over them. “I have been so long alone,” he said, in a low voice that seemed to be picked up by the warm soft wind blowing through the garden: alone alone alone alone."

After news from game informer article

SPOILER

.

.

Solas was alone (!) all those years. This is so fucking sad. I can't help feeling for him. Imagine how miserable we was feeling all this time.

Lavellan at least had people beside her.

He has noone. And it's his choice. I'm not gonna judge him or say he should have stayed with Lavellan. I clearly don't know the rest of his story, what he went through and what's at stakes. But the sheer willpower needed to end relationship with he, when it's clear he cares for her is immensive. Considering his greatest fear is dying alone. Considering he lost one of the few companions he had (Wisdom). Considering his words to Lavellan when they met and in Crestwood.

Lavellan:  I’ve never heard of anyone going so far into the fade. That’s extraordinary. Solas: Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything.

vs

Solas: I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.

Lavellan: That’s not necessary, Solas. You’re my…

Solas: That is the question, is it not? For now, the best gift I can offer is the truth… You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me - more important than I could have imagined.

Weeks said in the past how moral implications of romance with Solas are huge. Back then I took it as confirmation that through her he realized his mistake in thinking modern people aren't real. But I think it's more that than, especially after yesterday.

He was alone for millennia, it's unknown if he ever had deeply intimate relationship with anyone. In fact, his word suggest he hasn't: before Lavellan the Fade and dreams was what he loved. And then he met her and realized he could trade it in favor of spending time with her.

What is their story, for him, is about truly loving for the first time? Opening up like never before, experiencing connection with another being on a new level. A possibility of having someone know how you truly are, not a persona, but Solas (or, more precisely, his soul. I think Solas is a name he was given. which doesn't necessarily represent him wholy) . Being cared for who he is. Being free and loved.

I so hope we will get a chance to make it better for him. I also hope spirit Cole comforted him, even though Solas likely turned him away as well.

I was positive Bioware will depict him as a leader amongst his agents, busy progressing with his plan and spreading the chaos for his opponents. I got this impression from Trespasser. Intelligent trickster, who got what he wanted by using qunari and Inquisition.

But I was wrong and I'm glad. What we got is so much sadder but also fucking beautiful. It opens a lot of possibilities to how his story will progress. Weekes is a genius. I love them.

I am this close to blocking any news to experience the game for the first time as it's released. Now that I know Inquisitor will make an appearance, I'm hopeful for meaningful wrap up to their story.

UPD

And fuck if the news don't give another spin at him watching Lavellan from the distance in her dreams. Imagine it as the only comfort and intimacy (or whisp of it, really, as he was always far away) he allowed himself since Trespasser, probably when his lonely presence in Lighthouse became too much to bear. It's so sad. I actually cried yesterday T_T

Let me love you and care for you and hug you and comfort you and protect you you stupid fucking idiot of a vhenan

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Okay so to add to this post from yesterday:

I’m writing this right after posting that one so if somebody reblogs with something similar to this I promise I did not see it before writing this. I just wanted my full on fix it and this is how I managed to forcefully make it happen:

What if, just like in the book, the tributes didn’t have a bloodbath? If you wanna be very optimistic, what if none of the tributes had died yet but had been brought closer by the… unusual events surrounding their stay, and were just a little bit less enthused about the idea of killing each other? We’re ignoring the rabies. The tributes got close enough fast enough for them to save Reaper from getting bitten or that stupid bat was knocked out by slamming into the shaking sides of the cattle car before it could bite Jessup.

We all know Gaul’s a murderous piece of never before seen insanity, and it’s pretty clear (to me at least) that she was simply looking for an excuse to release the snakes. Well, what if she was just the teensiest bit too excited about that? When nobody has died in over a day because everyone is actively avoiding conflict (maybe Treech pulled a Peeta and convinced the pack to wait with attacking Lamina or something to piss Gaul off even further) she goes on the big screen to tell people she’ll nobly make sure the districts receive their punishment no matter how hard they try to rebel and sicks the snakes on them. Joke’s on her! They’re not stupid and once one person gets to higher ground everybody else follows. The tank is placed somewhere on flat ground so Lamina gets to stay on her beam and maybe Treech joins her so they can reconcile. Some older kids grab the younger ones to get the heck out of dodge so everyone’s in a safe spot.

As in my previous post, none of the tributes can be reached. Therefore, the snakes decide to get their share of flesh from the next closest thing: the peacekeepers. They don’t even have a chance to call for help, and there are no cameras that film their deaths so nobody even realizes nobody’s guarding the arena until it’s too late. Again, the cold night kills all of the snakes and provides the time frame that ends up causing the utter embarrassment to the Capitol that is the 10th Hunger Games.

This time, it’s Circ and Teslee, even the smart cookies, who notice the snakes all on the hunt towards the same spot and investigate. They immediately run back with their findings and the tributes spread the word from person to person in minutes. All strategizing is done in the cameras’ blindspots in a soft enough tone to not be caught by the microphones. Lamina hears that the only obstacle left is the lock when she “trades” with Reaper to buy everyone time and suggests going to Treech, since he knows how to pick locks. Teslee and Circ point out the camera near the entrance, so they decide that it’s better to be safe than sorry here and come up with a plan.

After some back and forth, Lucy Gray brings up that the games are all for entertainment, which gives Coral an idea (coralbaird alarm coralbaird alarm they are chaos gremlins). What if they have a few tributes fight? That would draw attention towards the fight and away from the entrance. They’ll do it early to prevent anyone from realizing the guards are dead. A few others will signal towards the cameras to try and convince their mentors to send supplies so they have some time to find a hideout and plan before food and water become pressing issues.

Panlo volunteers to be part of the fight, since his mentor is a dickhead. The chances of Gaius sending him anything substantial are so low they’re kissing the earth’s core. Reaper also volunteers, and Treech tries to before he’s reminded that he’s supposed to be picking the lock. So he instead volunteers to stay last with Lucy Gray since they had the most donations. Clearly the audience loves them, so they’ll perform together while everyone else gets out and then slip out of sight from the cameras. Teslee and Circ will hack the cameras from the outside and move them subtly while the distractions are happening so that the blind spots are big enough for the tributes to manoeuvre past. Wovey and Bobbin leave during the night, knowing their mentors won’t send them much. Someone needs to make sure that possible replacement guards don’t foil the plan by taking them out if necessary. They have the dead guards’ guns and no peacekeeper would expect to be shot, especially not from the outside of the arena.

In the end, it’s Panlo vs Reaper vs Sabyn vs Facet. None of them had mentors great enough to be likely to send food, but they’re all strong enough for a drawn out free for all fight without casualties to be believable. Once Treech whistles out the signal that he’s picked the lock successfully, they start retreating from the fight one by one, making it look like they just narrowly dodged a lethal blow and decided to cut their losses. The tributes collect their gifts and high tail it out of the arena while Lucy Gray and Treech “get stuck” conveniently close to a microphone. This is done by Coral acting out the angry Bad Guy she’d forced herself into once they entered the arena. Treech acts the meek spineless coward and books it away from the pack, who give chase just slow enough to believably lose track of him in the tunnels and give up. He meets Lucy Gray at the agreed upon location, one on each side of a door with a microphone above it. What a coincidence! And at a time where Jessup is outside to collect gifts too!

Lucy Gray makes just enough noise to pass as accidental while still being audible for both the mic and Treech, who says hello and sardonically asks her where her partner is. She replies that he should come in and check, to which he replies he’s not ready to get his skull bashed in quite yet. Then they talk. They share stories and sing together, both showing a more human side to the tributes while also expertly stalling for time by drawing attention. They’re performers, they understand what to do without needing to discuss it.

The last person to leave aside from them, Marcus, (because he gave the camera district 2 signs so Sejanus knows what’s up and waited for his mentor to empty out as much of his funds as possible without being suspicious) taps out the agreed upon signal with his footsteps, making sure they echo loud enough for the two to overhear, before getting out too. Treech swiftly ends the conversation by stating that he should probably get a move on before someone finds him. He perfectly acts out a teenager getting everything off his mind to someone he thinks he may never talk to again, complimenting Lucy Gray and wishing her luck. She does the same, and they part ways. Treech is surprised to find that Vipsania sent him quite a bit of food and water once he made it back to the main part of the arena, but he’s not complaining. Lucy Gray follows after him with enough time between their departures to be believable for two people who are supposed to be scared of each other.

And that’s that. All of them are out, regrouping outside of the gates and escaping the scene swiftly. It’s only the next day that anyone bothers to check out the lack of action, only to find the snakes’ rainbow venom pouring out of the guards’ corpses in front of a long empty amphitheater. Surprisingly, most mentors aren’t all that upset at losing their chance to win the Plinth Prize, which is now given out like it was in previous years. Secretly, they’re glad their tribute escaped alive, though they’ll never say that out loud.

Nor will a few of them explain why they suddenly go on a trip to the districts every now and again. Or why Gaul’s lab blew up with her inside it once the horrific symptoms of her snakes’ venom was released to the public.

Guess we’ll never know how that happened :)

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (9)

The sun hangs low in the sky, streaming in long orangey lines through Venetia’s window and falling onto the bed where we sit, illuminating the spread of nail equipment (files, cuticle trimmers, polish) that’s spread across the duvet. I work diligently at Venetia’s nails, filing them all into the neat almond shape she likes so much, buffing out all the snags and uneven edges. I’m sharpening her claws for her in the hopes that she’ll use them. 

“I would have never guessed Ollie’s hung.” She says, watching me work through her lashes, turning her hand so that I can get at her thumb. 

“They do say it’s always the quiet ones.” I say, tilting my head back to compare my work on this hand to her already filed right. Satisfied that they match enough, I trade the nail file for the cuticle trimmer. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that was real.” She says, handing me back her right hand. “Did I tell you he followed me outside last night?”

I focus on her hand, pushing her cuticles back so that I can cut them. “I didn’t know you were out and about last night.” A lie, but I’d rather lie than admit I had also followed her outside last night in the hopes of her attention. 

“I went out to look at the moon.” She says. “And have a smoke. He must have saw me from his window, ‘cause he came down. Said he thought I was sleepwalking.” She smiles. “I think he just wanted to talk to me.”

“Who wouldn’t?” I say, smiling up at her. 

She smiles. “Stop.” She says, her tone telling me that she doesn’t want me to stop at all. 

“What’d you talk about?” I ask.

“Nothing in particular.” She says. “I can see why Felix likes him though. He’s real. Like, he’s different from the other Oxford boys he’s brought home.”

“Farleigh seems to think he’s a nuisance.” I say. 

Venetia rolls her eyes. “Farleighs just picky. He probably didn’t even give him a chance.” She pauses. “I was a little worried that he would be mean to you as well, but you seem to get on just fine.”

“Yeah.” I say. He hasn’t told anyone about our conversation last night then. I didn’t think he would’ve, it seemed like he was just getting a read on me for his own purposes, but there’s no way of really knowing what he wanted. “It’s refreshing, not being the only one without an accent-”

“Bullshit, no accent, New Yawk.” Venetia says with a laugh. 

I smile down at her fingernails. “So.”

“What?” She asks. 

I finish her left hand and switch back to her right, repeating the process. “Remember when you said you weren’t going to fuck Ollie? And remember when you yelled at me for suggesting that you might go back on that later?”

“I’m not going to fuck Ollie.” She insists, though there’s not as much strength behind her words as there was before. 

“So you were just ogling his dick for fun then?” I tease. 

“You were too! And Farleigh as well - you can’t not ogle it when it’s basically a third leg!” She says. 

“Yeah, but there’s no intention behind my ogling.” I say. “I wasn’t the one licking my lips like I was looking at a three course meal-”

“Stop it, I was not!” She insists. She pauses, and I raise an eyebrow. “Fine, maybe I was a little bit. But he’s so..! Awkward and soft spoken and polite, how can you not want to absolutely ruin him?” 

“There’s no challenge with him, he’d take everything laying down.” I say. 

Venetia rolls her eyes. “Not everyone wants a fight, Evie.” She lifts her right hand out of my palm, and places her left one back there. I crack open the bottle of nail polish with my teeth, and begin painting. “Some of us would like a gentle lover.”

“You can’t know if he’s a gentle lover or not until you fuck him.” I say.

“Look at him!” She says. “He barely speaks - he doesn’t really speak at all unless Felix is in the room. And he hangs onto Fi like a dog, he can’t not be a sweetheart.” 

“He looks at your brother like he wants to fuck him.” I say. “You should have given him that little warning instead of me.”

“He’ll be disappointed then.” She snorts. “If it doesn’t have boobs, it doesn’t exist to Fi.”

I trade her left hand for her right. “You picked a good color.” 

She brings up her hand to the light, appraising. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” The shimmery lavender catches the light from the window, sparkling even more than it does in the bottle. Her eyes shift to me. “Speaking of ogling, I caught you having a sneaky look at Farleigh.”

I groan, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “C’mon V.”

“No, no,” She says, gleefully. “If you’re going to rag on me for looking at Ollie, I get a free pass to do the same to you.”

“I take it back.” I say. “You won’t catch another glance in his direction from me.” 

“What?” Venetia says. “I’m not telling you off - you should totally fuck him.”

I simply look at her, the words processing in my head. “So your brother is off limits but your cousin is free reign?”

“Essentially.” She says, pulling her hand back from me as I finish.

So it’s not a blood thing then - she just cares more about Felix than she does about Farleigh. “What if I don’t want to fuck him?”

“Liar.” She says. “You so do-”

“You’re right, I do.” I admit. “Sort of. Like, he’s so attractive but he’s such a bitch.”

“I thought you liked pretty bitches?” She asks, teasing. 

“Well, I do hang out with you-” I start. 

Holding her wet nails up in the air, she kicks at me, scrunching her nose up. I laugh, and dodge the blow.

&lt; previous part | next part >

[ciaossu-imagines]

For Day 16 of the event, I used prompt 11, numbers 10 to 14 for Zen from Mystic Messenger. I love this fandom, love every chance I get to write for these characters and I hope you’ll all enjoy the headcanons!

Want any piercings?

I do think that, at some point, Zen really did play around with the idea of getting a couple piercings. Aesthetically, he’s not against them and he liked the idea of cultivating a sort of ‘bad boy’ image at the time he was thinking about getting them done. However, he felt it was better in the long term for his career not to get piercings, especially any on his face. Have to protect the money maker, after all. He likes piercings on other people, but for both his career and his own thoughts on treating his body like a temple, they aren’t things he currently wants for himself.

Best friend?

Honestly, except for Jumin, he considers the other RFA members his best friends. Each member brings their own unique things into his life, and they are all very irreplaceable to him. He does think he’s closest to V, of course, but all of the members are people he wouldn’t trade for the world, and he begrudgingly does include Jumin in that camp, even if he sometimes forgets or doesn’t want to admit it.

Relationship status?

He’s either in a relationship with whatever reader wants to be in one with him, or the man is chronically single and working hard on his career. Depends on what the person reading this really wants, to be honest, because you know if any of you lovelies are like ‘he’s my love’, I ship ya’ll together hard!

Biggest turn-ons?

This is a hard one. There’s a lot that will turn him on sexually, but I’m going to go more in terms of turn-ons for like, the sort of people he will gravitate towards and the sort of things in people that will make him go ‘yes, that is my person, I absolutely need to know and build something with this person’. I will say that he does really admire confidence in a person, but it has to be a nice, quiet confidence without bragging or what Zen will see as flaunting privilege, like he feels Jumin does a lot. People who can be both humble but confident, like V (and like Rika had pretended to be)…those kinds of people always attract Zen and astound him a little. People who support him, absolutely and completely, without ever making him feel like he owes them anything just for their care and support really does attract him and turn him onto people, as do genuinely kind hearts. He also really does tend to gravitate and be turned on by other creative people. The more creative people he brings into his life, especially into his close personal life, the more creative and inspired he feels and the more he genuinely thinks he improves in his own art.

Biggest turn-offs?

Again, there are sexual turn-offs he has – he’s turned off by really dominant people sexually, he’s turned off by anyone who absolutely needs a lot of kink to have sex, he’s turned off by asexuality or people with exceptionally low libidos. But again, I really do kind of want to delve into the turn-offs Zen has for people in general. These are the kind of things that absolutely make him dislike someone on instinct, even if he’s civil and polite to them either for his career or to not be exceptionally rude. I will say that hygiene absolutely matters to this man. People who don’t shower regularly and who don’t put any work into looking presentable when they go out bother them. If he can smell someone, he really does think the worst of that person. Going along with that, he cannot really find a lot of respect for people that don’t take care of themselves. I’m not saying that people who carry extra weight or are disabled or anything are automatic turn-offs to him. I’m saying that, no matter what their weight or abilities, someone who doesn’t eat as well as they can and who doesn’t move their body, who doesn’t brush their teeth, shower, comb their hair, who just throws on whatever clothing they grab, people who put absolutely no effort into themselves – those are people who Zen is turned off by. Those people don’t even respect themselves, in Zen’s opinion, so why should he have any respect for them. Liars or people who are arrogant and out of touch with reality? Also huge turn-offs for him.

[starscribes]

Find the Word Tag Game

Out here catching up with two Find the Word Tag Games from @card-queen so this post will be a tad longer!

I'm tagging @card-queen back and also tagging anyone else who wants to play, say I tagged you so I can know to tag you in the future and have more people to play with! Your words are: Image, Imagine, and Intrigue

Snippets under the cut! Somehow, I found none of these words in my current WIP, so I'll have to fix that, but on the bright side I get a chance to share a glimpse into my other projects!

Star from The Peculiar Adventures of Michael Mallory

Michael joined Andrew at his station as the holoscreen showed an image of the transport pod leaving the ship. Once the transport was out of range Michael turned his face up to Andrew. “I have you on a game card,” Michael grinned, “Actually I have two of you. One that I play the Star Trading game with and the other in a laminated folder, to keep it safe, a lot of my cards got things spilled on them and shorted out the power. But not yours.”

Spike from Otherworld

Now that Maxine could see it properly, she was even more terrified. It was dark out, but the sun was beginning to rise and her vision was back to normal. It was a vaguely humanoid-shaped hole in the world. Just a mass of blackness, the edges of it were tiny spikes, which seemed to move up and down and around one another. Its head was shaped like a triangle, the point balanced on its body and connected by a neck, one of the points acting as the chin. Its arms and legs ended in a mass of sharp, black claws and it stood on its hind legs.

Spare from Otherworld

“It used to be that all the castles were the same,” Emogen continued lightly as they walked through the maze of armor. “But of course, each Great Prophet has put their own personal touches on each one. Take my father Semias, he fills the spare rooms of the Castle of Murias with the hungry every night.”

Despite from Otherworld

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Maxine called after C.J., she still hadn’t caught up with him despite how fast she was walking.  “The portals may appear at my mother’s command, however, there is no sure way to know where exactly one will place you on the other side,” C.J. explained.  “So that’s a no,” Maxine decoded.

Inspire from The Peculiar Adventures of Michael Mallory

As Nick went back over his story of how he escaped an attacking group of pirates and fled safely away on The Stove - an old favorite of Michael’s which he had heard at least five times - Michael imagined how glorious it would be if he were to grow up and be a captain of a team of space explorers like his brother. Shrouded by his thick black bangs, Michael’s chocolate-colored eyes gleamed with imagination and dreams of that bright future. He could see himself in Nick’s spot, retelling his wonderful adventures to his brothers and sisters who were yet to be born, painting a masterful picture of words just like Nick did and inspiring them to achieve their own dreams like he had.

Stride from God of Smoke

They wore those strange clothes, they had strange tools, they talked to one another so casually and didn’t act at all like angels were supposed to. And they didn’t know the guardian language? What kind of angels were these? Ky’tus seemed to notice too and he looked up cautiously when they didn’t respond in the right language. The older man licked his lips but smiled and used both hands to gesture towards the site. He seemed to take all these surprises with such stride. Em’het wondered how he could be so calm. 

Peek from Otherworld

It took most of the day for the three of them to make it to the City of Finias. However, the city was clearly seen once the forest began to thin out and the sun brightened. There was a low, thick mountain in their path. It was quite a strange sight, it looked like something had cut the mountain at the middle because the top of the mountain was entirely flat. And upon that mountain top was a city. Or Maxine assumed it was a city, she could see the towers of what must have been a castle peeking above the tall white walls that served as a perimeter. 

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 7, Part 4

The final serving of Pancakes (for now) is here. Bob works on integrating Ginger into the family and I try out the new food sale table from Home Chef Hustle. Iggy again tries to earn his final badge and Fergus turns 10.

Eliza: It'll take some time for her to adjust

Bob: I expect so

Eliza: Ginger darling, would you like a snack

Ginger: *barks*

Eliza: She seems to know that word

Bob: Her old owners said she's pretty smart

Eliza: Does she know to pee outside

Bob: Umm, I don't know

Eliza: Try stop her ruining the couch

Bob: Did you see our new family member

Fergus: The chihuahua

Eliza: She's not a chihuahua. Oh, Magnolia Promenade is open for trading, just let me make this call

Bob: Well, are you excited

Fergus: I miss Dale

Bob: Me to, but I don't believe there's a limit to the love we can give, give her a chance

Fergus: Okay Dad

Bob: Good morning Iggy

Iggy: Is it

Bob: We have a new family member

Iggy: *sarcastically* yay for us

Ginger: *attempts to pull a cute face*

Iggy: Does it have a name

Bob: Glad you asked, her name is Ginger

Iggy: Should have gotten a puppy, we could have named it something better

Fergus: Yeah

Bob: Her name doesn't matter so much does it. I know puppies are cute, but they grow up. The grown up ones need homes just as much as the babies

Fergus: I suppose that makes sense

Iggy: Will she die soon

Bob: What? No. She's got many years left. Try saying hi

Iggy: Hello *waves*

Ginger: *stares*

Iggy: Why didn't you get a friendly one

Bob: She just needs to get to know you, it's a pretty big day for her

Iggy: Can she even wag her tail, dogs should be able to

Bob: All dogs are different, we'll have to wait and see when she's settled

Iggy: I hope she wants to be friends

Ginger: *looks affectionately*

The boys finish getting ready for school while Eliza works on her debate skill. Bob decides to spend some time playing with Ginger to help her get settled. She loves this idea and happily bounces about. Anyone remember that pristine washing that survived the broken machine? The wind blew it away...

Bob doesn't have work today so after making sure Ginger pees outside he carries her to the lounge.

Bob: Okay, let's see what you know, sit

Ginger: *looks quizzically*

Bob: How about lie down

Ginger: *looks nervously*

Bob: You get down like this, see? No? How about a walk then, try out your harness

It's raining pretty heavily in Willow Creek so Bob decides to take Ginger to Brindleton Bay dog park. He doesn't want her thinking he's a meanie who drags her through the rain. She is ready and fabulous. Harness all set, Bob leashes Ginger and away they go. She may be small but she can move.

Jog over, Bob spots some obstacles in the fenced area. He calls over Ginger to try them out, she's a smart dog. First obstacle, tunnel. It looks dark and I think her jumpy nature will prevent her trying. To my surprise she goes for it. Next, a hoop jump. It's low down so she easily makes it.

I have no idea what this obstacle is, standing platform? Ginger fails and I absolutely blame this dude who is sprawled in the middle taking up the whole space. Ginger decides to skip the bendy tunnel but has a few go's weaving. Bob rewards her with a treat for trying, it was her first time after all

Back home Bob makes sure to show Ginger where her food bowl is. He's also placed a bed in the kitchen just in case she feels like hanging around while he cooks. She starts to eat. Ginger must be getting a little adjusted to Bob because her friendship bar is inching up.

Bob is busy prepping food when Ginger finds a puddle to roll in. I don't know why but I seem to have puddles on the second floor that can only be interacted with from the first floor and vice versa. Bob tells her off and being a smart cookie she learns right away not to roll in puddles.

Being a dog loving sim Bob gets giddy at Ginger's cuteness and pets her to show he's not too mad about the puddle. Nevertheless, a bath is in order so Bob carries Ginger to the tub upstairs. Despite having her harness on she gets spic and span.

Since bike riding doesn't seem to count for Iggy's Keep Fit badge (where's the cross pack compatibility people) after school we head to the gym to spend some time in the pool. Bob enters the water with an epic cannonball. It's warm for autumn so the Pancakes can swim in the pool without freezing.

Iggy spends time launching himself into the pool. Since he has motor level 8 he manages to pull off a cannonball and a backflip. Since we're out I get everyone showered before heading home. Alas I check the board and Iggy has made no progress on the Keep Fit badge. Seriously? At least Ginger is cute

Next day dawns and with a final flick of icing we are ready to try out this Home Chef Hustle food sale table thing. Luckily it's sunny in Willow Creek park where we set up, and Ginger can play. Bob begins to tend the table, I'm glad he's got a host of good moodlets to counteract his stranger danger.

Bob's first customer is the dude who's been ding dong ditching our doorbell this week. I dislike him on principle but after his purchase customers seem to flock in. I even get a couple of repeat customers in the time we're open. Of course Bob brought a dog biscuit as well to keep Ginger going.

Fergus and Iggy have some playground time while Bob's sale comes to a close. He makes 298 simoleons. We had no mark up and I can't remember what baking cost but it was fun to try. Back home Iggy has accepted Ginger and Bob begins his third cookbook, a guide to second breakfasts.

Poor jumpy Ginger is afraid of computers but when Eliza gets home she calms her down. Eliza feels burnout approaching so calls in a vacation day. Upstairs a speedy shower let Iggy do some press ups, he earns his last badge and is a Llamacorn scout! Bob discovers he is ambitious which I love for him.

Fergus is 10, so officially a preteen. As well as a quick makeover he gets a few new likes and dislikes. He rolled liking potty humour, arguments, argumentive sims and pet loving sims.

Bob wakes up on the gloomy side of the bed. He still misses Dale and isn't sure how he's going to reach 3 star fame. His emotional bomb goes off as he's filling the dog dish, tears pouring down. Afterwards he feels clearer and takes Ginger for a jog. The fresh air works wonders.

Friday is Night on the Town so of course the Pancakes visit he most inconvenient restaurant host (seriously, he vampire runs to show them the table). But my favourite waitress is here and manages to get the order out before Bob's shift. They eat quickly and take photos of the bizarre food.

When they arrive back home, minus Bob who has gone to work, they experience the first snowfall of the season. Fergus goes to the computer and chats with Kelly, planning an epic sleepover, before heading to bed. See you next rotation Fergus!

Iggy may not have learned to ride a bike yet but he has reached level 10 of the motor sill, completing his second childhood aspiration. Eliza plays some chess until Bob arrives home. The two head to bed together, and no I don't know why she's sleeping in her cold weather clothes either.

Previous Part ... Next Part (New Goth)

[captainswanapproved]

The Queen's Gambit- Chapter 3

A03, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multi Chapter AU: Rhaenyra is now 18 and eager to prove herself. Having never been forced to marry Rhea Royce, Daemon has matured and given up his gallivanting through the Street of Silk. Queen Aemma survives her final birth but the baby does not.

Queen Aemma knows of Daemon’s devotion to Rhaenyra. She also knows that this devotion is not unrequited. Aemma goes to Viserys with a proposition: one that will ensure the future and legacy of House Targaryen.

At first sight, Rhaenyra thought Gwayne Hightower to be passably attractive, but as soon as he opened his mouth and began to wax poetically about her beauty and virtue, he became utterly repellant.

Her fingers grazed her necklace as she listened to the man drone on about her perfections and what a marriage to him would mean for the realm. She snuck a glance at Daemon, who was sitting on her left.

His expression was stoic, but the way he was fiddling with the cross guard of Dark Sister showed his true frustration with the proceedings. Rhaenyra longed to take his hand, but knew she could not.

On her right, her father was smiling at the Hightower boy, clearly flattered on her behalf. Her mother wore an expression similar to Daemon’s. Rhaenyra noticed that her parents were holding hands, her father’s thumb idly stroking her mother’s skin. She was envious of the casual affection between them.

At length, Otto Hightower said, “Thank you, my son. Allow the other young men their chance to make their case.”

Gwayne’s cheeks were tinged with scarlet as he bowed low and moved away. One of the Lannister boys took his place, and began what was clearly a well-practiced plea for her favor.

On and on it went, until finally, Viserys rose and concluded the proceedings. He thanked the lords and their sons for their time and for their compliments to his daughter and heir.

Daemon rose and before Viserys could protest, he offered his arm to Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra smiled and allowed her uncle to escort her from the throne room. She did not miss the ladies in attendance start to whisper behind their hands.

Viserys made to follow him, but was held back by his wife. Rhaenyra would have to thank her mother for her interference later that day.

Daemon led her down the halls of the Red Keep, the muscles of his arms tense. He did not speak. Rhaenyra was surprised when Daemon did not lead her to the gardens, but instead took her lower and lower through passages and down staircases. Eventually, Rhaenyra heard sounds of the waves lapping at the shore. They had reached a small beach with a small dock. Trade ships did not moor here, but this beach was where messages arrived from across the Narrow Sea, delivered by cloaked men who did not want to be seen by the larger populace of King’s Landing.

A pair of gold cloaks were patrolling along the sand but made themselves scarce at the sight of their former commander.

“Daemon?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft.

“My brother is a fool,” Daemon finally said in High Valyrian. “I would happily feed any of those young men to Caraxes.” His voice was strange, almost petulant. It made Rhaenyra giggle.

He turned on her in an instant, his violet eyes blazing with something . . . frustration, anger, or perhaps something else. “I fail to see what amuses you, Princess. Surely you are not considering the suit of any who spoke today.”

A Lannister, a Tyrell, a Hightower, a Baratheon, and Royce, and Laenor Velaryon had all made their proposals, though Laenor’s was delivered with a clear reluctance. None of them presented any temptation to Rhaenyra. Surely Daemon knew that she wanted none but him. Only she had never said as much, but surely, he knew anyway. He knew her better than anyone.

“Well?”

Rhaenyra raised a brow, suddenly entertaining a bizarre notion. “Are you jealous, Uncle? That you could not speak your piece? You were surely armed. You could have cut through my father’s Kingsguard, taken me to Dragonstone, and made me your wife. I would not have protested. I would have welcomed it.”

Daemon’s eyes blazed brighter as he cupped her face in his hands. “Rhaenyra, do not tempt me.”

“Even now, you could call Caraxes and we could disappear. No one need—”

Daemon’s lips crashed against hers, silencing her mocking challenge. It was not what Rhaenyra had imagined a first kiss to be. There was nothing sweet, tentative, or gentle about it.

It was forceful, demanding, and almost harsh. It lit her entire body on fire. She gripped his neck and pulled him closer. This was not a moment to be shy. She opened her mouth and allowed Daemon to claim her. The moan of pleasure was unfit for a highborn young lady. When he finally ended this kiss, he only pulled away enough to gasp for breath. His forehead pressed against hers and he clung to her.

“Is that what you want, little dragon? To forsake your throne and go to Dragonstone?”

Rhaenyra met his challenging gaze with her own. Her heart was thrumming loudly against her ribs. Her lips were tingling from his kiss. She wanted him.

But she also wanted to wear the crown, though she hoped this would not happen for years to come. Rhaenyra wanted to continue to shape the Targaryen legacy, and leave her mark upon the Seven Kingdoms. By running away with Daemon, she would alienate her father. He may even name a new heir.

“I want you, Daemon,” she said truthfully, “but I cannot abandon my claim.”

This seemed to please him. “I thought so, Princess. We will simply have to find a way for you to have both.”

She thought he might kiss her again, but he let his hands fall away. Rhaenyra made no reply. Instead they walked along the beach for a while longer before Daemon declared that it was time to return to the keep.

Daemon did not escort her back to her chambers. Instead, he dispatched her into the custody of Ser Erryk Cargyll.

“I wish to see my mother, Ser Erryk,” Rhaenyra said. Ser Erryk nodded and led her to her mother’s chambers.

***

Aemma was sitting in a chair beside a blazing fire. She smiled at the sight of her daughter. “Did you have a pleasant time with Daemon, my love?”

Rhaenyra’s cheeks turned pink and Aemma guessed that her daughter had indeed enjoyed herself. Viserys had been beside himself with the affrontery, but Aemma had soothed her husband into acceptance. “I expect they went riding,” Aemma had told him. “Syrax will protect her virtue if that is your concern.”

Viserys mumbled that it was not and excused himself to speak with the Hand about matters of state.

“You do not stink of dragon,” Aemma observed with a sly smile.

“We walked along the beach,” Rhaenyra said, her expression dreamy. “I should go visit Syrax sometime soon. I fear I have been neglecting her.”

“The last few days have been busy. Tell me, Rhaenyra, were you swayed by any of the appeals of your would be suitors?”

“No, Mother. I would not wish to pledge myself to any of them. Though at least Laenor and the Baratheon boy did not blather on endlessly.”

“You were not swayed by Gwayne’s poetry?” Aemma laughed.

Rhaenyra winced. “Father will not truly make me choose one of them, will he?”

“I am afraid so, Rhaenyra. He is set against Daemon.” Aemma took her daughter in her arms and stroked her silver hair. She was transported back to when Rhaenyra first asked about marriage. The girl had declared that one day she would wed her uncle, and together they would have many little princes and princesses.

Aemma had indulged her, while Viserys had nearly choked on his wine.

Some things never changed.

“I want to marry Daemon in the tradition of our house, Mother,” Rhaenyra whispered.

“I know, my dearest, I know.” And Aemma vowed to do all she could to ensure such an outcome.

***

The ambitions of the princess and the queen were challenged two days later at a feast given to celebrate the end of the parade of suitors.

Cheery music filled the hall as Rhaenyra danced with each of her suitors in turn. She felt Daemon’s eyes on her as she moved across the floor, ever branding her as his. Ser Harwin Strong was a fine dancer and pleasing to look upon, but Rhaenyra still wished to be dancing with Daemon.

The music ended abruptly as Viserys rose from his place at the center of the feast table on the raised dais. Otto Hightower stood to his left and wore a triumphant expression that was unsettling to the princess.

“My Lords and Ladies of Westeros, it is time to announce the betrothal of Princess Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra’s heart nearly stopped. This was wholly unexpected. She stared at her father with an expression of mingled awe and horror. Her eyes sought out Daemon. He was looking at his brother, his lip curled, his hand moving to the hilt of Dark Sister.

“For years, House Hightower has served the realm with honor. It is my pleasure to announce that in a fortnight, the Princess Rhaenyra will wed Gwayne Hightower.”

[tiredassmage]

*slaps on table* 6, 16, 18 for best agent boy Tyr

(Aaaannnd 21 for your GW2 necromancer 👀 pleaaaase)

I want you to know that every time we trade agent asks I feel like that cat slamming the like and reblog buttons while making laser eyes. xD

As always, rambling under a cut involved, lol xD

best boy best boy best boy best b-

6. Their vices (physical or emotional)

Probably impressively given everything that happens, Tyr manages to dodge any physical addictions. He's far more of a social drinker than one likely to turn to a bottle for his solutions.

But also I have been thinking so intently even before this ask set about how I really don't think Tyr recognizes his own brand of self-sacrificing. He has the potential to be incredibly self-destructive about it, but almost by my sheer spite on the matter, he hasn't. Yet. If this game gives him so much as half an excuse to act on half the shit he thinks and says about taking down the Empire swinging, I'm going to stab this man myself so he can't do it.

I don't even think he'd call it self-sacrifice. He would low-key cringe at the idea of anyone thinking him a hero. Yeah, sure, yada yada, Immortal Sith Emperor is dead, whatever. He's just a lucky bastard with a blaster. All the real work was everyone else's. And watch - he wouldn't let you call him humble about it, either. While he's not particularly forceful or upfront about it, Tyr does have some strong ideas about how, exactly, people should remember him. There's still a part of him that is like (softly) "don't." This wasn't part of his briefing when he agreed to join Intelligence, damn it.

But, yeah, I'd say his biggest vice is that almost resignation to what he was/is as Cipher Nine, double agent to the Republic. He's not going to be ridiculously reckless and take unnecessary risks, but if you handed him a critical mission with a slim chance of a working exit strategy that would put a huge dent in the Empire?

Equally part of his problem is that he recognizes wars of attrition are not sustainable nor have they resulted in lasting peace, but find someone who gives a damn. If he could use a blaster against the Immortal damn Emperor, what is stopping him from taking on the rest of the Sith Empire? (Logic. Logic is what. He's not an idiot. He's just. Opinionated.)

He wouldn't tell Theron. Theron would try to stop him. Theron can know like. Right before he leaves. Maybe. That's maybe not the kind of message he'd like to leave with Jonas alone, after all. (Yes, Tyr and I have thought about this too much. It's such a problem. That's why he's not allowed to do this shit!!!!! Tyr!!!! PLeaSE!!!)

16. Dark Secrets/Skeletons in the Closet.

Hmmm.... hmm, hmm, hmmm.... Ohhh, the things spies don't tell other people. This one's tough. There's plenty of things he won't tell someone. Bastard still hasn't exactly clarified what his relationship with Shara was to Theron, for one. Half of his Intelligence career is still 'whatever you found in the records or think you know probably wasn't the half of it.'

Okay, so, his biggest one he won't probably ever been keen to spell out is that he probably wouldn't even bat an eye at a scenario like our theoretical occasion from the last question. At the end of the day, Tyr is still willing to push his own limits and cross some of his own boundaries to achieve an objective. And he knows there's shit like that that Theron would never agree to. And he would, knowing this, choose to omit details, if it came to this.

Throws my papers up in the air. And Theron was all in knots after Nathema, and Tyr is still willing to pull this shit. What am I gonna do with these two????

Anyway. I think also, in a way, there is a very, very tiny part of him that might, might accuse him of being a coward if it ever managed to wriggle out of the recesses of his mind because I do not believe Tyr would have ever asked Shara to leave the Empire. Part of it would be not thinking, even before he knew about her own programming, that it's what she wanted - and a backhanded accusation at himself from that would be that's not for him to determine to begin with. But I also think part of it is that he loved her, he trusted her to guide him as Cipher Nine, yes - all of that is true.

But I don't think he trusted anyone to understand why he would defect. That's one thing I don't think he would have trusted to her, given an opportunity.

Of course, none of this exactly strikes him as problems to deal with because they're not causing problems right now. He can't change the past and he certainly can't predict the future. So he'll just have to make do with what he's got and what comes at him whenever it gets here.

Oh, I got ahead of myself, didn't I, considering 18...

18. Things they'll never admit.

Okay, well, the last part of the last question is probably his biggest one. He's going to take that with him to the grave. One day he might explain a bit more of who Shara was to him to Theron, but will he ever admit that particular nuance? Absolutely not. Not relevant, unchangeable, nope. Nope nope nope.

There's probably a part of Tyr that could really benefit or feel something from someone giving him a pat on the shoulder and telling him, "you did alright, kid." (A), He, once again, doesn't actively realize this and, (B), BioWare where is Ardun Kothe? I increasingly need to know because I am increasingly having thoughts about him unexpectedly showing up on the Alliance base and it just being a Quiet Thing they acknowledge in private that Tyr would be... so relieved to see that man again. Bastard. He cares about you. They never officially call adoption, but like, Tyr was adopted. (This is even more hilarious to read back knowing like yEAH you're not wrong, but like, different context alkfnsaldkfd). Anyway, bold of anyone to assume Tyr actually had the courage to ask anyone. Did he look into this himself for answers? Who can say????? He sure won't.

I also think for like. At least half a hot minute Tyr kinda crushed on Vector. I've been slowly rotating this in the back of the mind since Tyr met Vector and was like "oh I like them" like, so fast. Tyr trusts him so fast - maybe too fast for being a Cipher, honestly. But also like, the whole complicated thing with feelings for Shara, later he falls absolutely in love with Theron, so... yeah, they ended up just being friends and Tyr never acted on this and, to this day, this is unacknowledged by both parties. And Tyr is, of course, happily married to Theron now.

Okay!!! Guild Wars mY WIFE time!!!! I'm love her...

21. Turning points in their life.

Okay, Letallia is still sort of coming together because I haven't finished everything yet, but what I do know came together surprisingly quickly! So, most of these events are primarily related to the first 30ish levels of personal quests.

Letallia is the oldest of twin siblings adopted by nobility and raised in Divinity's Reach; her and her brother never knew much about their birth parents and, of the two of them, Letallia was more okay with that. Her brother always wanted to unveil the mystery and find them, if they could, and this was something she never exactly discouraged, but she felt more close to the lives they were currently leaving and was relatively content to let the past be the past.

So, while they had their differences, they were overall thick as thieves (badumtss here bc her brother I have on theif, lol). Letallia primarily focused on the public appearances of the family - high society gatherings and dealings with the fellow nobility while her brother focused more on the common folk that served them, often to be found helping them with loose odds and ends.

So far, their two main galvanizing events have been discovering the history of their parents & joining the Orders of Tyria. Letallia chose the Vigil while her brother, always favoring the cloak and dagger type, joined the Order of Whispers. While they've had individual focuses before, separating paths to join the Orders is probably their first long-term departure from each others' sides. Letallia still collaborated with him where she could, though they each respected their allegiance to their Order and their secrets.

But! Igniting them onto such a path was the discovery that their parents spied for Queen Jennah's father. For Letallia, this reforged her desire to see, explore, and protect Tyria as a whole. She wishes to honor that legacy by striving for the unity she believes her parents fought and died for. Her brother took their deaths a bit harder, driven to stronger loyalty first and foremost to Kryta and their Queen. Ultimately, their motives may differ, but they strive for the same ultimate goal, which makes her relationship to her brother quite important to her.

This legacy also sort of solidifies her relationship with being a necromancer. The art can be unsettling, especially with the Risen so close at hand, but understanding is power and she believes all must live and serve in their own way. Meeting and befriending Trahearne also proves quite beneficial to this confidence. She quite enjoys working with him!

(Bonus fun fact, my google doc with all of this, inspired by that first post I think I did is called 'please don't store ur gw2 lore in tumblr tags' since it grew to be... more than I had anticipated when I started, lol)

[bambaooo]

2022

i doubt anyone is still on here anymore lol. shit, i barely am, i saw the las thing i posted and i dont even remember when it was lol

but yeah, 2022 was a wild ass year. alot has happened, and probably the most eventful year of my adult life thus far. 

soooo, in january was my last month of work at my job at the time. I was put in a weird position where the contract I was working for ended early and i was laid off. i feel like any other person would have been freaking out, but luckily i was still finishing up my last semester of grad school. For the first time since graduating undergrad was basically free any not working. coming from me, ive since i was in highschool I was always the type of person to want to work work work and make bread. So basically from once i could work when I was 16, i was working every chance i could get until this month. I looked at it as my opportunity to finally take somewhat of a break from working cause I know I wouldnt get an opportunity like this again. 

Although i did have hella plans for the next 6-8 months after finishing my job, i still had grad school to finish so basically from February to like Mayish I kinda just laid low and just took hella walks, worked out, and did school. i was going to sleep pretty late every night, waking up whenever and just going with the flow. there were some events scattered here and there like family parties, Allison’s cousins’ wedding in march which was fun. 

But come end of April into May, is when the real fun shit began. Went to the first of many muisical preformances. the first one was Brian McKnight which was wild. He is hella good live. and then shorly after I finished grad school.  First I finished grad school with two fucking masters degrees. One witha  4.0 and the other with a 3.9. I want to take a moment to realize how wild that is. In undergrad I legit was on academic warning and have a 1.7 gpa LOL. shit was wild. But also early on in May we went to see jame arthur in silver spring which was fun. Around mid May I went to Miami fora  day trading conference, definately a wild expereince. I learned a lot, but also met a lot of cool people. First solo trip and it was fun. A few weeks later went to my friends wedding wehre i got to catch up with other hommies and it was chill. 

Before we knew it, it was June. Something in the water was definiately something to remember, dope to see all these live performances and just be out and about. Glad to have experienced once while it was in DC for probably the only time ever. And literally a day or two after I went to trip 2 of the summer to Massachusettes for adrians weddings. First time doing a road trip like that, and it was pretty fun. Being with old friends, in a new area, just enjoying life. I was able to eat edibles, get drunk. and try lobster by itself for the first time ever and it was a good time. Stopped by in jersey on the way back and went to jersey smorgasburg and it was dope! it just kinda sucked a little while after, cause I found out i had covid a day or 2 after coming back from from the trip. but luckily it was very mild and was good to back by 4th of july. 

After a few more weeks in july, i was on my way to SoCal. 2nd a last solo trip. this trip was probably one of my favorite trips I have taken in my life to be honest. teh weather was good, was able to go to the OC fair, smorgasburg LA, and went to a reggae festival. I know the way I am with island music might seem a little weird to people, but shit, that festival was fun af. Going to concerts by yourself is fun af. Also while I was there i got to meet up with some VCU hommies and my cousin! 

After getting back home it was only a few more weeks until the last trip of the summer. Me and Allisons first trip of the year to Miami after her semester ended. It was fun too cause i didnt really go to the beach when I went in May. And I got to eat a bunch of food that I didnt get to eat the first time too. Its honestly just nice to hangout and do what we normally do, but in a different environment. 

A few weeks afterr we did a little trip to RVA/charlottesville. Allsion got us tickets for WIcked and it was dope. We were able to explore around richmond, and I got to show allsion on my favorite places to eat in rva. 

During this whole last few months from July to septermber I was consistently apply for jobs, going through interviews be lowkey being stressed about job searching. I was stressed, but not that stressed cause I knew id get a bite eventually but not knowing when was stressful. Luckily in september I got my first offer and was able to start my job in october. Fully remote and working in my field. 

October was a bunch of going back and forth between DC for work stuff and learning shit. November I kinda realized that I will have a lot of free time and that its gonna be alot of free time and pulled the trigger on fulfilling my lowkey dream of working in a grocery store. 

Holidays this year were very chill and nothing to crazy. Thanksgiving we bounced around between Allisons and My family. Christmas was more bouncing around MD and VA, being around familiy and enjoying ourself. It was honestly the first time in a while that Christmas felt like something worth celebrating. Also I actually reached out and caught up with friends. Like i feel like its very rare for it to happen, but getting together with my friends is something I will always enjoy. and tonight its NYE. My ass is at home, with no plans cause I got work a whole foods tomorrow and im completely okay with it. My life has been full of celerations and family and im okay with going into the new year chill. 

2022 has honestly been such a blessing. Going into the new year, many people want to exceed what they did in the previous year, but im already at the point that I am accepting that this past year was just so crazy that 2023 might just be a chill year. I remember I had a year i called teh “rebuild” in like 2017 or 2018, when it came to lifitng, but this will be a different type of rebuild, financial and health rebuild. I want to get my money right and get back lifting again.

but yeah, 2022 has been just full of blessing and i am fortunante to have been able to do the things that I have been able to do this year. Unlike 2022, I do not have any big plans for the year, and whatever happens will happen. Im excited for it, and am ready for what ever comes back at me. 

[soulcost]

#soulcost. an independent & private multi muse roleplay blog featuring canon and original characters across various fandoms. very video game heavy. carrd & character pages a wip, feel free to reach out with questions about any muses or consult the character summaries sheet. written by bee, 31, she/her, est.

important. I write the emperor and orpheus from baldur's gate 3, and I cannot stress enough that you should not follow me if you don't want major story spoilers for act 3/the end of the game. both characters are heavily tied to the culmination of tav's choices and in order for me to properly dive into their characters both during and post-game, I will have to post spoilers. it's going to happen. this has been your warning.

carrd. character summaries. main blog.

temporary rules below the cut.

001. this is a very low activity and low-key multi muse blog featuring canon and original characters across various fandoms. I'm mostly here to write with friends but anyone is free to follow and I'm open to new interactions/partners, so don't let this deter you if you're interested in writing together.

002. I cannot emphasize enough that this is a low activity blog. I work a full-time, writing-intensive job, I stream part-time, I have another blog that I write on and I'm a chronically ill cutie. I won't be around constantly and I won't be writing constantly. this is a hobby first and foremost and is treated as such. all I ask is for patience and understanding, both of which are appreciated.

003. I heavily prioritize plotted interactions/dynamics. I do a lot better with turnaround when I know where an interaction is going, so if you've got ideas for interactions or dynamics, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm pretty flexible, I like to consider myself easy to work with on that front, and I love crafting unique plots and dynamics with partners.

004. I love shipping, it's not a priority, but chances are if you ship it, I ship it. I'm always down to explore ships and other dynamics, I love pre-established dynamics, etc. you're also more than welcome to send shippy memes even if we haven't discussed anything as a means to test the waters.

005. if I do anything to upset you or make you uncomfortable, please just tell me straight up. I never do anything with malicious intent and I'd rather know right away if I messed up than have someone stew in it and let it fester. I can't correct something if I don't know the problem exists, etc.

006. I'm doing my best to catch up on my forgotten realms/5e lore as well as keep the inconsistent lore of resident evil straight but please note that I am very new to dnd and relatively newer to resident evil, with a lot of my experience being through baldur's gate 3/the remakes of the capcom games respectively. your patience and understanding is, as always, appreciated.

muse list.

baldur's gate 3

astele "nine-fingers" keene. 29. guild leader.

the emperor. 900+. rogue mindflayer.

lae'zel. 21. githyanki warrior.

larkin bashar. 40. oath of the crown paladin.

liana bashar. 33. college of lore bard.

penelope dusek. 678. necromancer.

orpheus. 2,000+. githyanki prince.

vaira. 28. githyanki monk.

voss. 1,500+. githyanki knight.

life is strange

chloe price. 18 - 25. jack of all trades, master of none.

max caulfield. 18 - 25. photographer.

steph gingrich. 18 - 25. record store employee.

resident evil.

ada wong. 24 - 50. spy-for-hire.

albert wesker. 35 - 55. virologist.

ashley graham. 20 - 40. college student, occult investigator.

jill valentine. 24 - 50. special ops agent.

alan wake

alex casey. 48. FBI agent.

rose marigold. 33. waitress/caretaker.

saga anderson. 42. FBI agent.

scratch. ageless. the worst being you will ever meet.

etc.

kim possible. 18 - 20s. freelance crime fighter.

lula mae henson. 32. farmer, surviving the zombie apocalypse (project zomboid oc).

sable ward. 21. college student, menace to society. (dead by daylight).

tree gelbman. 21+. college student.

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[peacevine]

alright so here’s a slightly better-written version of my idea for a new trading post npc who gives out coliseum bounties:

the basic concept is this: a new npc is added to the trading post, who hands out coliseum bounties. you can take a bounty there, at which point you are assigned to kill a certain number of a certain coliseum enemy.

first of all, the idea is to encourage an alternative way of coli grinding for people who struggle to do so without clearly defined goals. specifically, it’s also meant to be accessible to anyone - coli challenges on the forum exist, sure, but not everyone uses the forums, knows how to find them or wants to bother with keeping track of their progress. sometimes simple is good!

furthermore, the goal is to have things be as accessible to new players as well as more experienced ones. i’m leaving exact balancing to the staff, but ideally there’d be a system to check the levels of dragons you have in your lair so that you wouldn’t be assigned venues that are too high if all your dragons are low-leveled, or if you only have one high-leveled dragon.

lore-wise, it would work well if the npc is a gaoler, recruiting dragons to assist the seekers in their cause. they’d be sending you to places where the shade fragments are stronger at that moment, so that you can help deal with the problem.

as a reward, upon bounty completion, the npc will reward you with a chest item; the seeker’s spoils. lore-wise, this ties into the gaoler’s practical habit of not making hoards: instead, this npc is giving out the loot from their hunts as rewards to encourage other dragons to fight!

the seeker’s spoils would be a chest item, containing a small assortment of coliseum loot: food, materials and trinkets, as well as a smaller chance of familiars, battlestones, apparel; even vistas, scenes and eggs! droprates are akin to the coliseum itself. i again will leave exact balancing to staff but the idea is that it wouldn’t be the new meta for coli profit or anything; rather a nice way to encourage you to keep going as well as to somewhat offset the fact that you don’t get to choose where or what to grind. the spoils would also come in several tiers, with higher tiers awarding better/more loot; which tier you get is based on the number of enemies you were assigned and the venue your bounty was in (so that harder bounties are rewarded appropriately; also so newbies are motivated to train!)

spoils could also award unique rewards, rarely, to further encourage people to take on bounties. examples would be a campsite-themed scene, a special vista, or apparel themed after specific coliseum enemies or venues. perhaps even familiars; something similar to the dripcave deputy, maybe? or even special clanbound items that help newer players level up their team!

yet again a disclaimer that none of this is set in stone (or real yet, for that matter) but i’m thinking that bounties would be unlimited so people can enjoy the coliseum in any way they want whenever they want - but that there’d also be a possibility of changing your current bounty that is limited by a timer in some way so it’s not abused. giving you a few rerolls every number of hours, or something like it?

...anyways i think that’s all of it. kind of longer than i intended but at least this summarizes the idea neatly in one post! i struggle with coli grinding a lot if i don’t have a goal & i know others do too so i hope this would help that problem at least a bit

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?

A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v 

Masterlist 

Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”

You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits. 

“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.” 

“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this?  Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.” 

“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.” 

“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.” 

“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout. 

“How did you know about that?” 

“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.” 

“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’ 

The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it. 

When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working. 

“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread. 

The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you. 

“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.” 

Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?” 

“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.” 

You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close. 

“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.” 

“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?” 

You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.” 

“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow. 

“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed. 

“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers. 

“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.” 

You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.” 

“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.” 

“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you. 

“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.” 

Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?” 

“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.” 

“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”

“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.” 

“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. 

“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening. 

“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you. 

“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh. 

“Is that all you think about?” 

He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?” 

He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches. 

Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods. 

“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.

“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way. 

He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.” 

You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans. 

“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint. 

“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips. 

“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping. 

He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”

You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.

“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.” 

You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle. 

“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.” 

“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock. 

His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?” 

Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.” 

He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party. 

“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth. 

“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you. 

You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.” 

He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.” 

Taglist: @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42 @flaireandsynch @rayslittlekitten 

[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! Hawks (Keigo Takami) - Scratches and Bruises

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Alright I’ll do it...I’LL WRITE HAWKS SMUT....but I won’t like it.

Okay people so This is gonna have talks of death, abuse, yandere shit.

Leggo!

...

“What’s a pretty girl like you do sad for?”

You looked up from your phone to find a man practically leaning over the restaurant table. You could smell the alcohol from miles away and the way he was moving wasn’t helping his case either. You were instantly put off by him. Correction: You were disgusted by him.

“What’s a ugly man like you so bold for?” you smiled sweetly as the venom dripped off your words. “I’m really not interested.” you looked back down at your phone. You were just about to get a new high score on your favorite phone game and this asshole was ruining your chances. Your character almost died twice since he began bothering you. It was really starting to get on your nerves. If you didn’t unlock that new skin, you might kill someone.

“Oh come on.” he slurred. “Can a guy just compliment such a pretty lady?”

“Not when he looks like fucking Voldemort.” you replied just as quickly as he ended his sentence. “You’re kind of bothering me right now.” you pressed pause on your game and looked up again. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, seriously?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a guy at one of the booths, staring over at you. It didn’t feel creepy, but it was enough to capture your attention. 

“I wanted to-”

“What do you want?” you cut him off again. “We’re wasting time here.” you threw your phone on the table. “Save me the headache and save your ego...” you crossed your arms. you faked a smile. “Goodbye.”

“You bit-”

“Is there a problem?” 

A new person walked up to you two. The same guy who you had noticed before stopped in front of your table. He had sandy brown hair, and very sharp looking eyes. You swore you’ve seen him somewhere. You weren’t too sure.

“Nothing buddy, just about to show this bitch who she’s talking to-”

You crossed your arms and shifted around in your seat. “I mean I don’t need to be shown anything.” you shrugged.

“Oh are you?” he laughed. “Well I hate to break it to you but I’ll have to intervene” the stranger laughed out loud. 

“What do you mean-”

The drunk was instantly floored as this stranger grabbed his by the neck and slammed his face against the table not even an inch away from your phone. The drunk landed on the floor with a thud, moaning in pain. You weren’t even sure if he was registering the pain he was in or the fact that he had gotten his ass handed to him in the first place. All that you knew was that he was being peeled off the floor and escorted (more like thrown out.).

“You’re welcome, lady.” the guy didn’t take another look at you before be took a step forward. 

“I didn’t need your help.” you snatched your phone off the desk. “I can take care of myself.” you rolled your eyes. “And I wasn’t gonna thank you, either.” you stood up. “I’m definitely not going to now.”

The man slowly turned around, revealing his face clearly. “Oh really?” 

He was attractive, no doubt about it. His tight black muscle tee with baggy jeans and boots...damn he was a looker. Yet you weren’t like most MC’s...it would take a bit more than that for him to have any impact on you.

“Really.” you repeated. You put a hand on your hip. “Now if you’ll excuse me...I’m off to find another table to sit at.”

The man who ‘saved’ you didn’t take his eyes off you all night. Even when your friends came and joined you. 

“Hey Y/N, is that Keigo Takami looking at you?”

“I think it is!” another friend piped.

“Who?” you stared at her as you lowered your drink. “Who is Keigo Takami?”

“Y’know...Hawks.” she whispered. “I heard they call him that when he served time...” 

“He’s a literally crazy person. He’s an absolute menace! He’s a former hero...”

“Can imagine why...he beat the shit out of this guy who tried to hit on me.”

“Him?! I haven’t heard of him ever doing that for anyone before.” your other friend widened her eyes. “Y/N, I’ve heard of his past relationships...they didn’t end well. They all ended up missing...or in therapy.”

“I can take care of myself.” you shrugged. “I’m sure whatever Hawks has for me, I can take.”

“Don’t say that so freely, Girl. I heard he has a lot of screws loose.” your friend put a hand on your shoulder. “Like a lot.”

“Well whatever Mr. Man has in store for me, I’ll be prepared. It can’t be that bad, right?” your confidence dispersed a little bit. You looked behind you back at Keigo who had been cracking open a can of beer. He looked a little to interested in his own world to see you staring. 

“Y/N...Y/N!” your friend snapped her fingers in your face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah!” You focused back on your friends, feeling your emotions sort of switch. 

From the corner of the room, Keigo’s eyes followed you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you. Never in his life had he ever seen a girl like you before. He had never been so...fascinated either. Something inside him snapped, he had to get to know you.

He had to.

...

“Is there a reason  you’re following me?”

On a trip to the supermarket, you couldn’t help but voice your opinions. Keigo was hiding in behind a display of cans whilst you stared at the cheese. Hmmm Cheddar or American? Maybe Havarti! Hmm Pepperjack? Why were there too many types of cheeses?! Too many options!

“You have a very keen eye.” he revealed himself. “I like that.” he began walking along side down down the aisle. “Try this one, it’s the best on burgers.” he grabbed a package of Pepperjack cheese and tossed it in the cart.

“I’m just very aware.” you replied boredly. “It comes with the territory.” you opted to ignore him trying to shop for you. 

“Of being a hero?” 

His words made you freeze. You hadn’t been a hero in years, let along thought about it. It had been so long...

“I hung up my cape years ago.” you rebutted. Your tried to keep your voice steady, but he could tell his words affected you. It made you wonder how he even knew that.

“I can say the same.” he winked. “Only I traded the cape for...other things.”

“I can tell...Hawks.” you grumbled in reply. “That’s what they used to call you right?”

Keigo knew you were challenging him. Part of him was angry, others not so much. He was interested to say the least. No one dared call him that anymore. Hell, no one lived long enough to even finish such a sentence. What made you so different? You had guts...he liked that.

“Yeah...that part of my life is over now.” he began following you down the aisle. “What about you? Why’d you give up hero work?”

“That’s not something I want to discuss with a stranger in the middle of the store.” 

“I get it...how’s 7:00 sound?”

“Pardon me?” You and your cart skid to a stop. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’ll meet you at the bar we met around 7! Don’t be late, and tell the bartender Takami Keigo is gonna be waitin’ for ya.” he winked. “Don’t leave me waiting princess...”

“I don’t even know you!” you were taken aback. “You don’t even know my name...”

Keigo’s face twisted into a smirk. He took a step towards you. You flattened yourself against the aisle wall as he trapped you against the cereal. “So tell me...What’s your name?”

“Huh?!”

“For a hero...you’re pretty dense.” he chuckled, nearing his face closer. “I asked your name, Hun.” he winked. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Y/N.” you replied breathlessly. “My name is Y/N.” Why did you tell him that, you had no clue. Idiot!

“Okay then Y/N.” he neared his face towards yours. “7:00 tonight...okay?”

“Uh huh.” you nodded. 

“Wonderful, I’ll see you tonight, princess.”

... 

You sat at the bar stool, spinning around lazily. You called all of your friends, your parents, hell even your grandparents. You didn’t tell them the details, but you told them if you didn’t message them back by 9:00 AM the next morning, call you just in case.

“What can I get you?” the barkeep walked up, wearing a kind smile on his face. You suddenly remembered that Keigo had told you, and you didn’t trust it one bit. “Can I get a water please?” 

“Coming right up, young lady.” the older man kindly looked at you. “Anything for the former Number 1 hero!”

You giggled bashfully. “Please, that was years ago.” you shook your head. “I appreciate it though.” you smiled. Hero work, the bane of your existence. Your past buddies and partners had all begged you not to leave, but with the amount of scars and suffering you endured, you had no choice.

You wouldn’t put yourself through that again, not for anyone. 

“Here you are miss.” the glass was set in front of you. 

“Thanks.” you put your hand over the top of the glass. Now that it was in yoru hand, you could move accordingly. “I was also supposed to meet someone here?...Told me to tell you to expect me...Keigo Takami?”

The barkeep’s face fell, fear striking his features. “O-oh! You’re Mr. Takami’s company for the night! I’m supposed to escort you to his special booth.”

“Special booth?” you repeated.

“Y-yes, please follow me!” he urged. “Only VIPs are allowed back here, but he rented out the entire back area just for you!”

You felt your senses go off, fight or flight mode. Now or never. You reached in your purse. Knife, check. Mace, check....Gun...check.

The kind barkeep took you to a back area. It looked like the main dining area, only a lot more high end. Slow jazz music was playing in the background and the lights were low. He was right, there was no one here...except one person.

He dawned a brown leather jacket, black skinny jeans and those all to familiar boots. He tapped his fingers against the table as he stared down at his phone.

“Mr. Takami. She’s here.”

Keigo looked up with that shit-eating smirk. “Thank you Hideo, leave us.”

The barkeep stalked off leaving you alone. You suddenly felt out of place. You looked around, taking note of the city beaming outside the windows. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” 

You looked back over at Keigo again, almost surprised. “Yeah, it is.” you nodded.

He motioned next to him. “You wanna sit down or are you gonna stand there staring at me? I don’t bite.” he winked.

Silently, you sat down, still keeping your distance from the man. You were about a good two feet away from him. You weren’t too keen on getting any closer.

“I’m surprised you came. I thought you’d find a way to get out of this.”

“I am too, but I figured I’d entertain this idea...just for tonight.” you shrugged. “Don’t try anything, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Keigo cracked a genuine smile. You looked stunning and he wanted to tell you that. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew about you when you were going by your hero alias. He recognized the way you walked, the way you spoke. You could have killed that freak who hit on you if you wanted to. However you didn’t. He was curious about that.

“Why did you ask me out?” you raised an eyebrow before he could get a word out.

“I’ll let you know in a minute.” he winked. “I’m more interested in you.”

“Like what?” you raised an eyebrow. “How interesting can I be?”

Keigo didn’t want to say he did extensive research on you and couldn’t find shit. It drove him crazy. It was making him go quite literally insane. He was more that interested. He was invested. When he didn’t answer, you sighed.

“You tell me first.” you crossed your arms. “I know your reputation proceeds you.” you raised a brow.

“Princess, that’s not how this works.” he tried to sound as if he was joking. “I ask the questions here.”

“Well it is today.” you shrugged. “Either we have an even exchange or you’re out of luck.” you shrugged. “You decide.”

Keigo stared blankly at you. You were a tough nut, that was for sure. Plus you sure as hell weren’t afraid of death. That must have meant you had no idea what he was capable of. Then again, it must have been your Hero Side taking a stance.

After what felt like a minute, he sighed in defeat. “...A friend of mine was killed by a hero.” he confessed. “You ever hear of someone called The Bronze Monk?”

“That name sounds familiar?” you raised an eyebrow. “He’s another hero, right? He can turn his fists into bronze.” You tried to recall.

“Mhm...He killed my friend.” Keigo clenched his fist. “I did 6 years because of him....”

“I don’t understand.” you raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with you?”

“This was while you were dominating the game I guess, so I don’t blame you for not knowing.” he shrugged and he slapped a hand on the table. “HIDEO! TWO BEERS.”

“So I’m confused. I heard The Bronze Monk died mysteriously...he fell from over 500 stories...”you paused. You took to time to noticed that Keigo has aired out his wings this time around. You didn’t even noticed he HAD wings. “It was all over the-...wait a second...You never said who your friend was.”

“She was a- she was a villain.” Keigo sighed. “She was like a sister to me and I was tryna get her to stop being so dumb...turn over a new leave and she was doing so well! Shit, but...one day she dumbly got into a fight with that asshole and I watched my friend die right there.” Keigo hitched his words slightly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” you said sadly, regretting opening your big mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No...it’s fine. I guess in order to move on I gotta talk about it right?” he sat up straight as the barkeep came back with two mugs and quickly stalked back off. “I was so blinded by my own anger. What type of hero would go out of their way to punish someone trying to make amends....” he seethed. “I flew him up to the tallest building in the city and dropped him...I only got off on good behavior...”

It finally all made sense, to you at least. You let what he said marinate and sit well...it felt surreal.

“So.” Keigo grabbed his glass and took a huge gulp. “I’ve said my peace. You’re turn.”

You stared at this guy for what felt like ages. Something told you that this guy couldn’t be trusted. All the alarms were going off at the same time...but for some reason-

“My parents wanted me to be a hero.” you said. “My quirk is hereditary, so it’s passed from person to person.” you shrugged. “I loved saving people, helping people...then-” you paused. “I saw how corrupt, and hateful, and disgusting these so-called heroes were...I lost someone important to me too.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested. You took a swig of beer, trying to gather your thoughts. 

Keigo took note of the way you were fiddling with your left hand. Your thumb grazed over your ringer finger as if something was missing...something important.

“Who was the guy?” Keigo asked, snapping you out of your trance. He had a gut feeling he already knew, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

“...H-he was um...we dated since high school.” you shrugged. “We were a team, him and I.” you smiled at the memory. “When he turned his back on the hero world, they turned their back on him too.”

“Meaning?”

“They sold him out.” you choked. “They left him for dead and told me he would be okay. I should have gone back for him but they held me back, they told me there were other people that needed my help.”

“What happened when you learned the truth?” Keigo asked. He only knew that a poor hero lost his life, he didn’t know that the only other survivor just so happened to be his future wife.

“I had to choose...my friends and my morals or being a hero. If anyone knows just how two faced and conniving these people are, it’s me.” you shuddered. “I’ve met traitors, and killers disguised as good guys. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore and I gave up! Forget being number 1, forget status, forget everything...Being a hero...lost me everything.”

“Hm. Thank you for sharing that with me, Princess.” he replied. “It must have been hard to do...it’s nice to know you trust me so much.”

“It was only fair, I guess.” you boredly drank. “It not that big a deal.” you stared down at your fingers. “It was years ago, I’ve moved on.”

Keigo took note of how your mood faltered. He couldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me?”

“Hm?” you looked up from your glass.

“I’m sure where ever your fiancé is, whatever he’s up to. He doesn’t blame you.” he put a hand over yours. “He wouldn’t hate you for moving on either.”

“He wouldn’t?” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know?”

Keigo couldn’t answer, he just wanted to say something, anything, to put a smile on your face. It was like a second nature in such a short time. He wanted to be your hero. “It’s just a hunch...you shouldn’t be afraid to move on...sometimes all you need is a push out the nest.” he winked as his wings twitched behind his back.

“Bird humor? Really?” you scoffed.

“It’s what I do, princess.”

...

After the heavy and depressing, you don’t think you laughed that hard in years. 

“Wait hold on.” you stopped laughing. “Pause for a minute! You, with those big ass wings got your ass handed to you by some chump named ‘The weather man?’” you were crying from laughing so hard.

“He could control the wind!” he defended, also laughing. “You shoulda seen it!”

“Well maybe you need to exercise your quirk more.” you crossed your arms.

“As if you’re the master of your own.” he playfully rolled his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I am!” you raised an eyebrow. “Shall I demonstrate?” you scooted out the booth and stood up. “Don’t blink or you might miss it.”

Keigo leaned back in his seat, now very interested in what you were about to display for him. He watched your eyes narrow in focus as you held your hands out in front of your face. Slowly, a very tiny tornado formed in your hands, small and handheld. This mini tornado was soon replaced by a tree sprouting out of the top. You waved your hand around and miraculously summoned rain out of your palm. 

“Okay Y/N, focus.” you mumbled. Suddenly, out of everything, a flame erupted from the center of your hand. 

He watched in awe, he had never heard of anyone with a quirk like this one before. With another flick of the hand, everything you had summoned disappeared. “Ta-da!”

“That was amazing.” he commented as your sat down. “What was that??”

“I come from a long line of ‘benders’. Funny name, I know.” you giggled. “I can bend another element...spirit. I can only do it when I’m really happy though.”

“Why didn’t you try that one?”

“...I said I can only do it when I’m happy.” you smiled sadly. It didn’t take long for Keigo to catch on. 

“Oh.” he raised a brow. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s alright.” you shook your head. “Ever since...he died...I’ve never been able to do it.” you shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to.”

“I’d love to witness that.” Keigo laced his fingers within yours, making your face heat up. “I bet it’s beautiful.”

“...S-shush.” you scoffed, looking away bashfully.

Suddenly the song changed, a slow jazz song began playing. A slow beat, with soft drums and what you could describe as a romantic saxophone.

“Dance with me.” he held out his hand. 

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully as you took his hand and stood up. He guided you to the middle of the floor. he pulled you flush against his chest. The slow music seemed to drown out the hustle of the city noise outside. He hummed thoughtfully, singing to the tune for you. 

“You never told me.” you mused as you two moved in sync.

“Told you what, princess?”

“Why did you ask me out?”

“Truth be told, something drew me to you.”

“Like what?” you innocently stared. “What about me could possibly interest you?”

“Out of everything you’ve told me, everything really.” he bit his lip. “You’re amazing, everything about you.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself, Keigo.” you shyly replied. You turned around and rested your back against his chest. He rested his head in the divot of your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist, guiding you along to the music. 

He was right, he wouldn’t leave you, not now. Not ever. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it, princess.”

“If I admitted I was wrong about you, would you hold it against me?”

Keigo nearly froze. A shock was sent up his spine as the words left your lips. “You shouldn’t say things like that, princess.”

“How come?” you turned around to face him. 

“I want to-” he bit his lip. A gentle hand rested on the base of your neck, his thumb caressing your throat. He laid a kiss on your lips, passion dripping off of every peck. His tongue slipped through the small gap as he moaned against your mouth. You whimpered and shivered feeling his tongue dominate your mouth. He responded with sounds of his own. Shaky breathes and low groans.

You responded to his touch, allowing his hands to travel under your shirt. “Keigo.” you whimpered. Your feverishly ran your hands through his hair, practically gluing your bodies together. You felt his fingertips creep under shirt, dancing across your skin. “W-we can’t do this here.”

“You’re totally right.” he didn’t cease, instead opting to kiss down your neck. “So...my place or yours.”

You felt yourself lose all sense of direction. “Y-yours.”

“You’ve just opened up Pandora’s Box, princess.”

...

You fell back on his bed, crawling backwards. He rid himself of that jacket and his shirt, leaving him to flex his muscles, his wings, and everything. You stared up, trembling in anticipation. 

Your friends would probably kill you, but you didn’t particularly care. You hugged yourself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. 

Keigo loved it. It meant you still had innocence flowing in your veins, not for long. He would toy with your brain. He would bend you to his will and drive you insane with lust. You would be the perfect sidekick for him. He stalked over to you, biting his lip. 

“Look at you.” he mused. “You’re so cute.” he giggled. He rested a knee at the edge of the bed, beginning to crawl towards you. 

You noticed his wings were spread wide, covering over you two like a shield.

“C-can I?”

“Go ahead Princess.” he smiled knowingly. He had the look as if he knew something you didn’t. You reached a trembling hand to gently brush his beautiful feathers. A low groan erupted from his throat.

“Oh my gosh! Am I hurting you?” you almost withdrew your hand back.

“Don’t stop...please.” he growled lowly. 

It was only then you realized, this was turning him on. You ran your hands through his feathers. They were soft, shiny even. 

“Enough!” he grabbed your hand and pinned it above your head. “Look at you, princess. All ready for me.” he laughed. “I wonder how wet I can make that pussy for me.” he used his other hand to fumble with the button of your jeans.

You trembled under his touch, feeling your pants slide down your legs. You were completely drowned in your own lust. A fire was prominent in your chest. You were shaking under his fingertips. 

“Enjoy this, princess.” he winked before crawling down. He lifted your shirt up and planted little kisses along your stomach. He grabbed the hem of your panties with his teeth and pulled them down. 

You were squirming in anticipation, waiting. 

“You smell so...so-” he didn’t finish his sentence because he had drove his tongue up your slit. A gasp escaped your lungs. Absentmindedly, you had grabbed a fist full of his hair. 

“Fuuuh~” you couldn’t speak. You weren’t even sure he’d be able to hear your over the sound of your wetness. You could feel your water dribble down your thighs. 

“Wrapped your legs around my head.” he growled, digging his nails into your thighs. “Grind that pussy against my tongue, princess.” 

You thrashed against his mouth, feeling warmth gather in the pit of your stomach. “Keigo!”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, making you cry out even louder. 

Keigo felt himself lose touch with everything, he was only focused on you in the moment. Fuck, was he hard too. Hearing your moans. Shit, he couldn’t wait to bury himself into you. 

“Baby, do you hear that?” he looked up at you as he promptly replaced his tongue with his fingers. “Listen.” he pumped his fingers into you. “You sound so fucking cute” he groaned, mimicking your soft whimpers. “It feels good, yeah?”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded. 

Suddenly, he yanked his fingers out of you. His head fell forward to rest on your pubic bone. He sounded as if he came just now even if it was you getting all the pleasure. 

Like a predator stalking after it’s prey he meet your eyes. He wore a sadistic grin with his bottom lip taken between his teeth. He sat up, fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“You ready for me, princess?”

“Yes, p-please?” you whimpered. 

Fuck, you couldn’t do that to him. He had a mind to tear you apart where you lay. Your jaw went slack as his cock was released from its restraints. Would that even- Inside you?! 

You felt it brush against you, slightly. You met his eyes and froze there. He was staring down at you. He looked absolutely feral. You could barely look away as he slid himself inside your throbbing hole. He painfully slowly rolled his hips into you. He twitched inside as he bucked his hips into you. 

“Look at how good we fit together. That’s right.” he managed through clenched teeth. “My cock was meant to be here. I was meant to fuck you.” he snarled. 

You tightened around his length as he thrust harder. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” His jaw dropped again. “Say my name, please?”

“K-keigo.” you obeyed. You felt a warmth in your chest as well as your core. It was like a fire was being ignited in the pit of your soul. “I’m gonna-”

“Fuck! Don’t finish that sentence.” he snarled. “You don’t wanna know what I’m gonna do as a result.”

In a swift motion, you were suddenly staring down at Keigo. He had a death grip on your legs as he was now thrusting upwards. You had your hands on his chest in an attempt to support yourself.

“I think I like you more when you’re riding me.” he bit his lip. “You look so fucking sexy. Those moans, that body, your pretty fucking pussy-”

“Keigo, please! I can’t it anymore.”

“Oh yeah, you gonna cum? You wanna cum for me, baby?” he spoke in a babyish voice. “You wanna cum all over Papa Bird’s cock? Do it, do it for me...ARGH FUCK!”

You felt his warmth inside you at the exact same time you had came. He was shaking under you, rolling his hips upwards to relieve the friction he had caused. 

Keigo stared in amazement at a bright light erupted from your chest, a small bird in the shape of smoke began flying around the room.

“That would be spirit.” you laughed tiredly, watching the quirk you had thought died reactivate out of nowhere. 

“I hope you know...you can never leave me now.” Keigo sat up to lay kisses on your neck. “You’re mine now.”

(AND DONE! This was Hawks debut on the blog so lets all give hem a huge hello!)