#and shit like kinning and shifting fall in place with those ideas and they make me so happy

[arcaneyouth]

honestly its so disheartening to regularly see shit like kinning or shifting or whatever theyre calling that get so shit on by most people, or to have the meaning change to something more tame and palatable for most people. i believe in that shit in a spiritual/religious kind of way. but unfortunately other people like me can be real fucking annoying about it in an easy to make fun of way so i probably shouldnt express that shit unless i want to be made fun of as well.

like even if they're being cringe about it and even if theyre not doing it for spiritual reasons like me maybe dont? make fun of them? for being cringe? and going "stupid idiot doesn't know its not real"?? yeah i dont think these people should be insisting this is scientific when its very much not but also like hey leave us alone maybe

[archived-kin]

local cashless god nearly loses you your job (but you’re okay with it)

note from kin: *throws this at you* please take it i’ ve been stuck on the blasted thing for hours (peepaw i promise i’ll write you something where you’re better characterised another day)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, zhongli, xingqiu

pairing(s): zhongli/reader

warning(s): none! (though i do want to give a heads up for some out of character stuff since i started this when i still wasn’t too familiar with the liyue characters)

genre: fluff

“How many copies of Encyclopaedia of Liyue does one man need?”

You shush Xingqiu as the man just across the shop continues to browse at his leisure, golden eyes furrowed in concentration as he trails his gloved fingers across the books’ spines. “Maybe he’s here to buy something else this time! You never know.”

“He’s bought the exact same book seven times in a row now,” Your little brother insists, pulling his nose out of his novel for once to regard the tall figure drifting listlessly from one end of the shop to the other. “I doubt he’s going to break the cycle now.”

“He could be a collector,” You suggest, dropping your voice slightly when the man’s eyes flicker over to you briefly. “This shop’s older than us - maybe it has a bunch of different editions that he wants to get.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make sense for him to find all the different editions and then buy them all at once?” Xingqiu whispers in reply, tapping restlessly at the countertop with one hand. “Then he wouldn’t have to stop by every day and charm you into paying for him.”

You don’t have a reasonable argument for that, so you don’t reply. Xingqiu really is too smart for his own good sometimes.

The man - who you can see is now flicking curiously through a copy of The Founder of Diabolism - isn’t someone you know particularly well, but he’s visited the bookshop where you work enough times that you do know the essential facts: his name is Zhongli, he likes drinking tea, and he’s broke. In every sense of the word.

That last point is quite the source of exasperation on your part. No matter how many times you remind him as he leaves, he never fails to turn up with a completely empty Mora pouch the next time you see him. At first it hadn’t been so much of a problem - he’d just come in, browse the books, start a little small talk with you, then leave. But then he’d actually started wanting to buy the books, and buying usually involves money - something that Zhongli seems to forget exists.

If it had been any other ridiculously handsome guy, you might have sent them packing, but there’s something about the lost look on Zhongli’s face when you ask him for his payment and he realises that he has no way of giving you one that never fails to make you get out your own Mora pouch and suggest that you foot the bill for him instead. Zhongli always tries to refuse your offer, but, in kind, you always insist. You have no idea why he has such an affinity for that particular book, but the way he smiles at you as you as you drop your own coins into the payment pouch is more than enough to make up for the money you lose. It’s not like you actually need the funds, anyway, considering who your father is.

Today, however, Zhongli has neglected the shelf of encyclopaedias in favour of drifting over to the Xianxia section. You’re not sure what’s spurred this change in interest, but maybe it’s the little toy dragon you’ve set on top of the shelf? Zhongli seems rather enamoured by it - he keeps glancing up at it while he reads.

Speaking of the book that he’s skimmming through, it’s a rather odd choice on his behalf. You haven’t gotten the opportunity to read it yourself, busy as you usually are between your work shifts, adventurer’s guild commissions, and making sure your little brother doesn’t get himself into trouble by wandering directly into a gang of hilichurls in the middle of reading a book again. You’re pretty sure Xingqiu has read it at some point, though - to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already read every book in this shop several times over. (Part of you wonders if the only reason he’s so supportive of you venturing into the world and taking this job is because he gets to sit with you and read all the books he likes during your shifts.)

You don’t remember all the details he’d spewed off to you over the week or so he spent reading it, but you vaguely remember him crying into your sleeve about something to do with trees and lanterns and hugs. You’re also pretty sure that it got kind of… what’s the word? Risqué? Adult? Well, whatever word you use to describe it, it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that someone like Zhongli would read. Then again, you wouldn’t have ever expected your innocent gentleman of a little brother to read something like that, either.

“At least he seems to have good taste in fiction,” Xingqiu sighs as Zhongli continues to skim over the first few pages, looking rather intrigued. “I suppose that’s about as much as I can ask for…”

“He seems pretty invested,” You observe. “Reckon he’s going to buy it?”

Xingqiu shakes his head. “No. He’s going to come up here and realise he’s forgotten all his Mora again, and then you’re going to end up buying it for him again because you have a giant crush—”

You shove him in the shoulder so hard that he falls off his stool. “Oh, shut up.”

Xingqiu quickly catches himself on the side of the table and shoots you a glare, fumbling to retrieve the book that he’s accidentally dropped in the process. “Hey! This book doesn’t belong to us, you know.”

“It’s one book, A-Qiu,” You sigh as he turns away from you, clutching the book to his chest like it’s some precious child that you’re threatening to kidnap. “Mr Yao isn’t going to condemn you if it gets a little dusty.”

“Books should be treated with respect,” Xingqiu sniffs, turning up his nose at you like some nobleman - which he technically could be considered, now that you think about it. “You of all people should know that.”

“Just because I work at a bookshop doesn’t mean I think they’re Morax’s gift to man like you do,” You snort, noting in the corner of your eye that Zhongli’s eyes had flickered over to you briefly as you spoke. “Sure, books are neat, but they’re not holy.”

“‘Books are neat?’” Xingqiu repeats disbelievingly. “Of all the words to—”

“Excuse me.”

Both you and Xingqiu jump in startled surprise - neither of you had noticed Zhongli approach the front desk. You gather yourself quickly and smile at him as he quietly sets the book on top of the counter and pushes it towards you with a small nod.

“Will that be all?” You ask, reaching for one of the complimentary bamboo bookmarks that you’re obligated to give out with every purchase. You’re pretty sure that Zhongli has more than enough at this point, but you don’t want to risk getting into hot water with Mr Yao for not doing it.

Zhongli takes the bamboo bookmark with a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod and flick the book open to check the price label on the inside of the cover. “Alright, that’ll be… 5000 Mora, please.”

Xingqiu mutters something resignedly under his breath as Zhongli reaches into his pocket and fumbles about for a moment, clearly not particularly hopeful that the man has actually brought his money with him today. Your little brother, as usual, is perfectly correct in his intuition; after a second of slightly embarrassed silence, Zhongli pulls his hand out of his pocket with nothing in it.

“My apologies,” He sighs, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve forgotten my money pouch again.”

“I knew it,” Xingqiu whispers.

“A-Qiu, shut up,” You hiss back, then turn back to Zhongli, your smile back in place. “No worries, I’ll buy it for you.”

His brows pinch together slightly in the smallest of frowns. “No, no, you shouldn’t. You’ve already spent so much money on me…”

“It’s no big deal!” You assure him brightly, already reaching into your lapels to find your coin pouch. “You seemed to be really into it earlier, so it’d be a shame if you couldn’t keep it, right?”

Zhongli’s frown deepens. “Even so...”

“You could always pay back with something else,” Xingqiu chimes in, the exasperated look on his face replaced with a shit-eating grin that you know all too well. Before you can step in and shove him into the cabinet or something to shut him up, though, he continues, turning to you in a parody of innocence, “What do you say? Mr Zhongli clearly has some time on his hands…”

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what he’s implying with that grin. “I’m still on shift, A-Qiu, I can’t just up and leave. Mr Yao would probably kill me.”

“You’ve been working shifts for two weeks straight,” He counters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I can mind the shop for a long enough for you to take a walk. He won’t notice a thing.”

“You won’t ‘mind the shop’, you’ll just sit there and read,” You shake your head and tussle his hair with a flippant hand. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up those antiques at the back.”

He looks affronted. “Are you accusing me of stealing intent?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” You explain patiently. “I’m just saying that your moral compass is very easily diverted when it comes to books.”

“If I may,” Zhongli begins, cutting off Xingqiu’s indignant spluttering. “I do not mind the idea.”

You turn to look at him in shock, only to see that his golden eyes are already fixed intently on you. He has the sort of gaze that makes you feel as if he’s seeing right through you, as if all of your faults and flaws and wishes and dreams are laid out bare for him to examine at his leisure - but Zhongli doesn’t look at you with any judgement. In fact, if you hope hard enough, you think that there might be some affection in his eyes.

“W-well, I—” You glance quickly back at Xingqiu, who pointedly refuses to help you, evidently offended by the moral compass comment. “I- I’d love to, honestly, but I need to finish my shift…”

“This young gentleman has already volunteered to take care of that for you,” Zhongli counters. There’s a strange intensity to the way he’s looking at you now - hope? Determination? “I know of a quiet spot just outside the harbour. If you would…?”

You glance at Xingqiu, who, despite still looking a little miffed, gives you a begrudging nod. After another moment of thought, you turn back to Zhongli, who gazes expectantly back at you.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” You say, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He smiles then, holding the door-curtain open for you to exit first. You pause briefly to wave a goodbye to Xingqiu, who pointedly sticks his nose in his book and pretends not to see it.

The two of you walk in silence for ten minutes or so, with him in the lead and you occasionally glancing behind you to make sure Xingqiu hasn’t already set the bookshop on fire or something. Zhongli walks rather more quickly than you’re used to, mostly because you usually walk with Xingqiu, who has refused to grow more than half an inch in the last three years and still has legs substantially shorter than yours. Zhongli seems to notice you lagging behind a little after a minute or so, slowing down his pace slightly so that the two of you can walk side by side properly.

“The breeze is pleasant this time of year,” Zhongli comments as the two of you cross the bridge to the mainland and begin to leave the harbour. “Particularly as the sun is going down.”

“I’ll have to get out to see the sunset more often, then,” You sigh. The amount of people milling about around you thins out the further the two of you walk from the harbour and along a grass-lined path, until the two of you are alone.

“I’d be happy to escort you,” He says, glancing quickly back at you, then snapping his head forward again. “...that is, if you’d like me to.”

You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, because you’re pretty sure that the look on your face is smitten to an absolutely ridiculous degree. It takes everything in you not to reach forward and grab Zhongli’s hand right then and there, but you restrain yourself just in time, knowing full well that initiating sudden physical contact with someone that you still don’t know all too well is incredibly rude.

“Of course I would,” You answer. “Just name a time and a place.”

He looks at you again, a gentle smile curving at his lips. “I’ll be sure to.”

The walk takes the two of you through a grove of trees dappled by the rich afternoon light. Zhongli speaks at length about the various different species that you pass; part of you is listening attentively, but the other part of you is far too distracted by the elegance of his quiet footsteps and the way the sunlight glows softly at the edges of his hair to register the information.

Leaves and branches crunch underfoot as Zhongli finally leads you out of the trees and out onto a quiet spot on the mountainside overlooking the harbour. He sits down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over the edge, and you follow suit, quietly settling down beside him, leaving about two inches’ space between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; he’s absorbed in watching the city below him, golden eyes darting back and forth as he watches the tiny figures of the people bustle about the streets.

You notice that he’s still holding the book you bought him earlier, keeping it set carefully in his lap with both hands placed firmly on top of it, as if he thinks it might slip out of his grasp and off the mountain if he isn’t careful.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” You begin, catching his attention. He turns to look at you, and the sudden sight of his content expression, framed by the sprawling fields and trees in the distance behind him and the light casting his features into sharp relief, knocks all the air from your lungs for a moment. You very nearly choke on your words, but manage to gather yourself in time to ask, “Why the sudden change in interest?”

He cocks his head ever so lightly to the side in confusion, then realises what you’re referring. “Ah - the book? I just wanted a change of pace, really.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. A-Qiu’s read that one. He says it’s one of his favourites.”

“Is A-Qiu the young gentleman accompanying you in the bookshop?”

“Yup.” You sigh, leaning back and kicking your legs slightly, noticing with some fascination that you can faintly see yourself reflected on the water far beneath you. “Xingqiu. He’s my little brother.”

If you squint hard enough, you can see Zhongli’s reflection in the water as well. He’s shifting slightly - is he moving closer to you? You can’t quite tell from the reflection alone, and you’re not about to risk looking at him. Zhongli is a little like the sun in that respect: warming you indirectly with his presence, but damn near blinding (and incredibly flustering) to look directly at or make eye contact with. He’s almost ethereal-looking - as if he isn’t quite of this world.

“He seems a well-intentioned boy,” Zhongli comments quietly.

You respond with a light-hearted scoff. “I’m not too sure about that. He’s good at hiding it behind a book and all those airs and graces, but he’s always annoying me.”

“Is that not what younger siblings are for?” He counters, eyes twinkling slightly as you laugh in reply.

“I guess they are, huh?” You shake your head, a grin continuing to play on your lips as you finally turn to look back at him. Somehow the blinding beauty of before feels as if it’s mellowed out, become softer around the edges - like a surging river calming to a trickling stream.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. The late afternoon breeze picks up a little, and Zhongli’s hair dances about on the air, twisting and curling in swirls as if the very wind is playing with it. You’re so occupied by (subtly) staring at him that the small movement of him lifting a hand to adjust his tie makes you jolt slightly on the spot.

You can tell that he’s noticed as well, so you hurry to start a conversation before he can bring it up. “So… what’s the fascination with Yi Xichen?”

“...ah.” You might be imagining it, but you think you can see a faint flush forming over his cheeks. “The encyclopaedias?”

“What else?” You swing your legs back and forth restlessly, leaning forward and resting your cheek in your hand. “You must have at least fifteen copies by now. Are you collecting them or something?”

“Well, no...” He glances away from you, intertwining his fingers. “I suppose I’m not particularly good at ‘acting natural’, am I?”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli fiddles slightly with the seam of his glove, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I have no need for encyclopaedias, but after the first few days, I found that I had fallen into the routine of selecting one every time I visited.”

“Why did you visit, then?” You ask.

He glances quickly at you, then back down at the water. He doesn’t answer at first, as if mulling over what to say, until finally, he replies, “...I suppose I just wanted to see you.”

It takes you a good moment to fully process what he’s just said to you. Once you do, though, your entire body implode. Well, it feels it does, anyway.

“I— you— me— huh?” is all you manage to get out at first, hands dancing around in front of you like two birds trying to escape from a net, as if they’re trying to physically pluck some words to say from the air. It’s a bad habit you’ve always had, throwing your hands about when you’re stressed; it drives you mad sometimes, but you can’t stop yourself.

Zhongli closes his eyes and bows his head, and there’s no mistaking it - his cheeks are definitely pinker than usual. “Is that alright?”

You nearly choke on air, but you force yourself to take a deep breath instead, fanning yourself briefly with one hand. Getting flustered heats you up surprisingly quickly. “Y-yeah! Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles a little bashfully, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but, if it’s alright… could I see you more often after today as well?

The sheer adrenaline rushing through you is so intense that you’re surprised that you haven’t busted a blood vessel yet. Actually, as far as you know, you might as well have - you’re far too focused on the man in front of you and his… confession? Is this a confession? You’ve read romance novels, sure, but is that how it works in real life as well? What are you supposed to do?

Your head is so filled with pure chaos that you just know that, if you speak, you’re going to say something completely inane and stupid. So, instead, you reach forward, and take his hand in your slightly shaky one.

He looks down at your intertwined fingers with mild surprise for a moment, then raises his gaze to you once more, eyes lighting up slightly. “...I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You nod quietly, hesitantly shuffling closer to him. He squeezes your hand almost experimentally, then glances quickly back up at you as if trying to gauge your reaction. You offer him a smile; he returns it wholeheartedly.

You’re sure that you’ll have missed the rest of your shift by now, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Zhongli doesn’t let go of your hand, and you in turn do not move away from him - if anything, you move closer, leaning slightly into his side. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t object.

The sun is slowly beginning its descent, staining the sky a pale orange that reflects from the waters below you. It seems that the two of you will be seeing that sunset together a lot sooner than you had anticipated.

[kuroopaisen]

distractions || kuroo tetsurou

➵ you’re determined to distract your boyfriend from his uni work. you’ve got a foolproof plan as to how. 

wc: 2k

warnings: f!reader, 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex (mentions of birth control), cursing

a/n: kuroo brainrot. that’s all. 

One of Kuroo’s hands lies on the inside of your thigh, his fingers running over the skin slowly. He seems totally unaware of the effect he’s having, scrolling through page after page of some bullshit about ‘breaking even’ and ‘sunk cost fallacies’.

That holds absolutely no interest for you. Not when something significantly more exciting is on your mind.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t help that he’s just sitting there, looking hot as ever in red sweatpants and a loose black shirt.

You’d initially thought, perhaps, that he’d be teasing you for wearing nothing but one of his shirts. It’s one of his, a ratty old black shirt that he’s said that you look both aggravatingly cute and unfairly hot in.

But he’s been staring at his damned laptop for the past hour, only taking a break to get up and pee.

You’d had nothing to do except absent-mindedly scroll your phone for that duration. Sure, you could’ve done some uni work, or perhaps even done something ‘fun’ for a hobby.

But you hadn’t felt like it. So you didn’t.

And now you’re horny.

You sigh, crossing your legs in an X-shape. It hikes up a little around your thighs; something that usually captures your boyfriend’s attention with ease.

He’s not paying attention.

An idea pops into your mind. Something that Kuroo would absolutely be down for. And something you’d wanted to try for a while now.

You scoff, propping yourself up on your knees. Kuroo still takes no notice.

“Tetsu?”

“Mhm?”

You grab his laptop, closing the lid and placing it on the bedside table.

“Hey!” Kuroo chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to ride you.”

At those words you straddle him, settling yourself comfortably on his lap and slipping your hands under his shirt.

He blinks at you for a few seconds, eyes wide and round. But in true Kuroo fashion, that surprised expression melts into one of smug satisfaction.

He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside.

“I’m usually the one on top,” he chuckles, smoothing his hands over your outer thighs.

“And?” You hum, pressing a kiss to his neck. He hums in response, one hand moving down to grab your ass.

“I don’t know if you have the stamina,” he grins.

“I’ve put up with you for this long,” you smirk, your lips moving down his neck. “That’s got to count for something.”

He laughs at that, letting his eyes flutter shut as you begin to nip at the skin on his collarbone. You know what he’s like – he wears his hickeys proudly, so long as they can be hidden from his professors.

“What’s brought this on?” He asks, his voice beginning to roughen.

You raise your head to glare at him. “Really? You have no idea?”

He tilts his head at you, genuine confusion clouding his eyes.

“You’ve been fondling my thighs all morning,” you huff, glaring at him.

Kuroo cackles, lifting a hand to smooth over your cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t even notice.”

“You didn’t even notice?!”

“I was studying,” he grins.

“So, what? You were just fondling them for emotional support?”

“Sounds about right.”

“I hate you.”

“You just said you wanted to, and I quote, ‘ride me,’” he smirks. “Or is hate sex something you’re into? You never told me about that kin—”

“Shut up,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his.

He complies.

You grind against him, earning a soft moan from the back of his throat.

His dick’s already beginning to harden up. Your heart speeds up at that realisation. Even now, the fact that you’re the one who turns him on so easily makes you all flustered.

He kisses you again, deep and hot and hungry.

You keep grinding against him, letting a few gasps and moans escape your own mouth. His hands slip down to your ass, pulling you closer to him. You yelp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Oh, fuck.

He’s so close to you, so hard, so ready.

If you wait any longer you’re going to lose your damn mind.

Your lips brush against his ear as you smirk. “Tetsu,” you moaned quietly. “I need you inside me now.”

He gulps, his grip tightening on your ass. “Do you want me to get a condom, or…”

“It’s fine,” you breath, shaking your head. You’ve been on birth control for the past few months.

His face lights up and you can swear his eyes start sparkling.

You laugh, bringing your hands up to cup his face. “That excited, huh?”

He grins. “You aren’t?”

He’s teasing, but there’s something you can only describe as ‘eager reverence’ in his eyes.

The next few moments are spent trying to get him out of his sweatpants; you’re leaning this way and that, he’s trying to wriggle out of those blasted trousers without having to get off the bed.

Somehow, he manages to get everything off, his dick bright red as it springs up.

An ache pulses in your abdomen as you look at it. You’d learnt very quickly that you had to take things slow with Kuroo – he’s big, after all.

But you’re both eager.

Your remember that as you position yourself over his cock and start to sink onto it.

“Fuck,” you breath, grasping at his shoulders. “You’re so big.”

You shudder as you settle down on his length, letting his cock stretch you out.

He grins. Even he’s a sucker for praise. “Yeah?”

You nod, adjusting yourself on his lap. He takes a sharp breath at that, grasping at your ass again.

“You alright?” You chuckle, knowing full well what that noise means.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbles, kissing your neck. “And tight.”

You grin, leaning your head back to give him better access. “Can I move?”

“Mhm,” he sighs, teeth grazing the base of your neck.  

You shift again, pressing your pelvis closer to his. Your knees are propped to either side of his thighs, holding you up.

You set a solid pace, this new position allowing you to rub your clit against him as you ride his cock. Kuroo’s head lolls back for a moment, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted.

You take a moment to admire his body for a moment – taut, tanned, muscular.

His golden-brown eyes flutter open, darkening in a now familiar way. You smile at him, running your hands over his chest.

“Get this off,” Kuroo growls, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “I want to see all of you.”

You blush, but you tear it off your body as quick as you could while continuing your movements. You settle your hands on his shoulders again, gripping into them tightly in an attempt to ground yourself.

Kuroo runs his hands over your hips, up your waist, over your boobs. Your skin tingles under his touch, making you shiver.

“I love your body,” he breaths, thrusting up into you instinctively.

You gasp as he goes deeper, clenching around him as your cheeks redden at his words.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles.

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “it’s good.”

There’s an unrelenting ache in your thighs, but you don’t want to stop.

One of Kuroo’s hands slinks between the two of you, seeking out your clit. You gasp at the sensation of his thumb pressing roughly against your clit, rubbing in coarse, haphazard circles.

“You alright?” He grins, voice deep and laden with lust.

“Feels so good,” you breath, rutting against him.

He makes a noise not unlike a growl.

“Are you gonna cum?” You can hear the pride in his voice. He loves making you cum, and he loves feeling you cum on his dick most of all.

“I-I think so,” you shudder, your thighs burning from the amount of work they’ve done today.

“Then cum for me,” he growls in your ear.

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“I want to feel you cum around my cock,” he growls.

“Fuck, Tetsu,” you breathe. “You feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, tilting his chin up so his lips could meet yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. You sigh into the warmth, the coil in your stomach tightens.  

“I love being inside you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Fuck, baby, you…”

You let yourself go. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, “please, don’t stop.”

Warmth spreads through your body, a pulsing wave of pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his shoulders.

You moan, deep and long and honest. Everything feels all floaty for a moment, and yet your limbs feel so heavy. You collapse against him, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Kuroo understands immediately. He’s familiar with the look you’d just had on your face, after all.

He cups your head, his other hand grabbing your ass. He pulls you close, making your breath hitch in your throat. He thrusts up into you a couple of times, before flipping you over gently.

You yelp in surprise but lift your pelvis up as best you could.

He’s on top now, fucking you with his usual voracity. He never means to be rough, and you’re not even sure if what’s happening right now qualifies as ‘rough sex’. But his thrusts are deep, fast, hungry.

You know it’s because he’s been holding back, because you know he always tries to make sure you finish first. But he wants you – wants to be close to you like this, to let himself lose control with you.

You want that, too. Knowing you’re the one to make him lose his damn mind? Fuck, that’s hot.

He’s hot. And he’s bare inside of you. The thought alone is almost enough to make you cum again.

“Tetsu,” you moan, clenching around his dick. “Tetsu, I want you to cum in me.”

“Holy shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, are you sure?”

“Please,” you beg, “I want to feel you.”  

“Fucking hell,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. His pace speeds up, hungry and desperate. You know exactly what that means.

A few more rough, sloppy thrusts and he lets out a long, deep moan. God, what a beautiful sound.

His dick pulses against your walls as he reaches his high, chasing it with a sharp, shallow strokes.

A few more moments of thrusting and moaning and he slows to a stop, hot breath fanning over your next.

He lifts his head up to look at you, a slight tremble in his arms.

“Guess I always come out on top,” he grins.

You stare at him for a moment, a horrible realisation settling over you. “Was that… a pun?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Get out?”

“Of you?”

“Of my house.”

“Uh, I think you mean our hou—”

“Nope. You’ve lost your privileges.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you with a contented sigh. “We should do that more often.”

“Sex?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Or me on top?”

“Both,” he answers instantly, kissing your forehead. “Definitely both.”

“You sure?” You giggle. “I thought you always ‘come out’ on top.”

“I don’t think you understand just how hot that was,” he grins. “Also, fuck.”

You blink at him, following his gaze down your body.

Oh.

You can feel his cum dribbling out of you. You realise, not without a hint of frustration, that it might stain the sheets.

“You should probably have a shower,” Kuroo teases.

“It’s your fault,” you mumble, sitting up straight.

“Hey, you begged me to do it,” he grins, leaning in close to you.

Your cheeks flush. He wasn’t wrong.

Kuroo cackles. You punch him in the chest lightly even though you know such a move is futile. He grabs your fist playfully, tugging you towards him. You comply, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pressing yourself against his chest.

Bare chest to bare chest. Something about that almost feels as intimate as what you’d just done. Almost.

He lets your hand go, bringing one of his own up to cup your face.

Kuroo gazes at you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. “Thanks for trusting me.”

You know what he’s talking about immediately.

“We’re dating,” you giggle. “And we have been for a while.”

“I know, but…” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I love you.”

You smile, your heart hammering in your chest. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you again, surprisingly chaste.

“But,” you grin, running a hand through his hair, “we should probably have a shower.”

[kingarise]

There is Only One Master of Me

Blue eyes gazed around the chamber with thinly veiled distaste, tapping a nail on her goblet in an attempt to calm herself but it only made her more agitated. As if sensing the young human’s loosely leashed temper, the other beings at the party shied away from her, giving her a large berth, walking past her as if on eggshells and those closest to her containing their gossip to whispers. Not that it helped. Lucette already knew what they were whispering about, the constant glances between her and her target of wrath making it obvious.

Everyone heard about the rejection of the marriage proposal by her father. Everyone knows about his failure of the Wolf Knight’s grand test.

And everyone most certainly knew that Lucette was furious with her once lover. Alessio had failed her. Whatever task her father has asked of the man had apparently been too great for the god kin to handle and he refused. And thus, Artorias refused him as well. As soon as her father told her about Alessio’s refusal to his question, Lucette felt her heart burn with the flames of wrath and throb with the sharp sting of betrayal and heartbreak.

    ‘How did I manage to fall in love with such a coward?! Surely whatever Papa asked him couldn’t have been so arduous to cause a God kin much difficulty! Was he too unintelligent to complete the task or was his pride too stiff to bend? Matters not. If he could not handle Papa, then he most certainly would not have been able to handle me as a wife. What an embarrassment.’

Worse thing was, he had the audacity to show his face at the party and was throwing her longing glances from across the crowd. And yet, still cowered away from her instead of walking up to her himself. Despite his failure, he still expected her to do the work?! Useless!

   ‘Fine. He wants a show, he’ll get one. And the main jester will be him, not me.’ Lucette decided, throwing back the rest of her wine and slamming the cup on the table, standing up, drawing people’s attention.

Thankfully for her, Lord Gwyn wasn’t present at this event. Unfortunately for her, that meant that Ornstein surveyed the event in his place. Symbolic, of course. A statement from the King that whether he was physically present or not, he had eyes and ears everywhere. Hopefully she won’t get another 5 hour lecture about her undignified behavior after this. Or worse, tell her father.

At the thought of the possibility of her father hearing of this, a prickle of doubt crept into her, making her pause. She didn’t want to stress him more than he most likely already is. He was probably hurting from her pain too. But at the memory of Alessio’s empty promises, pathetic begging for another chance as she stormed away from him in tears that day, a storm of anger and recklessness swept her up into its arms and pushed her to call out confidently. Or perhaps it was the wine. She did add in a few drops of God kin alcohol into her own.

   “Lord Alessio!”

At the sound of her voice, all conversation stopped and heads turned, some towards her, others towards the man addressed. Alessio, for a split second, looked like a fish out of water before he schooled his expression into one of docility.

   “My lady?”

Lucette smirked, pleased that he walked into the trap. A dog will always come when called.

   “Do you dance, my lord?”

A hint of a smirk grew on Alessio’s lips, a glimmer of pride sparking in his eyes. He thought that she has calmed down from her anger and came crawling back to him. Poor fool. Even a dog knows to sniff a treat before eating it.

   “If it pleases you, my lady.”

And there it was, the charm that had caused her to fall in love with him in the first place. What a shame that she didn’t know at the time that charm was empty without action behind it. Lesson harshly learned.

Huffing a laugh, she stepped onto the dance floor, the other couples having cleared the space. A crowd of eyes followed the two as they drew closer, soft whispers filling the air alongside tension and anticipation.

   “Play the Volta” She ordered, not looking away from the familiar green eyes before her. As the music filled the room, the two past lovers got into position, starting off with a clap.

   “Lucette.”

Starting to speak already? She had expected he would’ve lasted until after the first jump. But this week has possibly been a lesson to her about her high expectations for this man.

   “You have been avoiding me.”

   ‘No shit, you imbecile.’ She mentally rolled her eyes at the astute observation, giving him a cocky smirk with a head tilt. He gives her a look of confusion, tilting his head in question. They continued the dance, Lucette skipping with a spin on the fifth step, turning once again to meet with Alessio.

   “Let me explain myself-”

   “I wouldn’t recommend that. The last time you tried ended quite terribly, if I recall correctly.” She cut off his weak lead in, her eyes now physically rolling. She is so sick of hearing that sentence. “Let me explain myself,” he says. What a beggar.

   “Very well then. I will state it bluntly. Your father disapproves of me. Always has. Along with that beast of his-”

   “Sif. Her name is Sif. and you will give her due respect.” She interrupted with a hiss, now glaring at him. Any partner that couldn’t respect Sif appropriately was best thrown out. She was being absurdly generous giving him this false disguise of a chance to speak to her again.

   “Sif. They have both disliked me being with you from the start. Your father looks down upon me. For what reason I know not.”

Does he genuinely not understand? Or is his pride tied too tightly around his eyes, blinding him?

   “Hn.”

   “Because they know I would do anything for you.”

Except the necessary thing to get her father’s approval for marriage. Except swallowing his pride.

As they progressed through the dance, she could tell that Alessio was getting tired of the false pretenses of dancing and simply wished to speak with her. Lucette cared not. He will indulge her until she sees fit to stop.

   “Lucette, say something!”

   “What do you want me to say, hm? That I forgive you? Most certainly not. That I love you? That flower has already wilted. I have no words for you. You have made it quite clear that you were never mine.” She hissed at him, her throat growing tighter as the feel of heartache threatened to consume her.

   ‘Hold onto the anger. Hold onto it.’ She moved to do the next step of the dance, turning away from him, but a harsh grip on her bicep pulled her back, stumbling into his embrace, drawing gasps and exclaims of shock from those watching. Before her rage could fully set off for daring to lay a hand on her in such a way, his hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her into the air.

“For Gwyn’s sake, enough of this petty anger. You will always be my Lucette!”

Enough.

With neither warning nor hesitation, she backhanded him across the mouth, causing him to drop her on her feet. Whirling around, Lucette glared at Alessio with eyes of blue fire, mere seconds from ripping off his head right then and there.

   “I am NOT your Lucette! I never was and never will be! And if you think that you could sweet talk me into falling into your arms like some empty headed maiden, you are a bigger fool than my family and I have thought! You would serve better as Sif’s chew toy than a man since that thing behind your eyes and between your ears is empty and lifeless-”

   “Lucette. Enough.”

At the sound of Ornstein’s voice behind her, Lucette bit sharply on her tongue, halting her tirade. As much as she wished to tear him apart right then and there, she knew Ornstein would not appreciate a direct order being ignored. With another sharp look at the pitiful man cowering before her, she gave a small curtesy to Ornstein out of courtesy and made her way to the doors, the crowd hastily parting to let her pass. Before she could leave however, she decided to make an announcement. For any and all of the God kin in the room who wished to try their hand at taming the wolf’s daughter in the future. Spinning around, she faced the crowd again, her gaze sweeping over them with unfaltering heat.

   “There is only one master of me. And he is not in this room.” She called out confidently, daring anyone to argue against her. With that parting message, she turned away and left the party, the doors slamming closed behind her. Let them chew on that. And if they ponder over who she was speaking about, then let them. Only the ones that know her know who she meant.

Later that night, as she braided her hair for bed, she distantly heard the entrance door to the Wolf Suite open and the familiar clacking of nails and metal on stone.

“3...2...1” She softly counted down, grinning as the noises drew closer and in strode Sif, greeting Lucette with soft barks and attacking her face with licks.

“Hahaha Sif! I already had my bath! And you are still dirty from the day.” Lucette giggled, pushing the large wolf away from her face. Sif huffed, offended at the implication that she was dirty and finally released Lucette from her slobbery greeting, laying her head on her lap to receive her due head scritches. Which Lucette happily complied with, always happy to pet Sif’s fluffy self. A knock on the doorway drew both of the girls’ attention, Sif’s tail beginning to wag at the sight of Artorias.

“Good evening, Papa.”

“Evening, Starlight.” He greeted, bending down to kiss her hair, ruffling Sif’s fur.

“How was the ball? I hope you did not partake in too much wine.” He asked, giving her a playfully stern look.

“No no, only a cup. As for the ball...Well, it was surely eventful. That is certain.” She answered, eyes focused on her hands petting Sif. She could hear the clink of armor as her father shifted, looking at her with a questioning look.

“Did something happen?”

‘You’ll find out one way or another. Might as well give a small idea for what’s coming.’ Lucette huffed, finally looking up to look her father in the eye.

“I saw him there. At the ball.”

From the sudden appearance of tension in the air, she knew that he knew who she was talking about. Artorias kneeled down beside her bed, making his height match her own, large hands that Lucette has seen smash grown human armored men into pieces, tenderly cupping her own.

“Did he attempt to speak to you? What did he say, starlight?”

When she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was a sob and that sound released the floodgates. She wept in her father’s arms right then and there, the crush of defeat overwhelming her after so long held back. With no more anger to distract her, all she had left was grief for the love that was swiftly killed. She could hear her father cooing to her gently, one arm wrapped around her as his other softly stroked her hair.

“He….He wanted me to... forgive him. Implied that you and Sif somehow sabotaged him.”

Sif very much did not appreciate Lucette’s ex’s attempt to switch blame, a growl rumbling lowly in her throat, soothed away by more head pats from Lucette.

“And what did you say in return?”

“I refused, of course. To do otherwise would be an insult to myself and you and Sif. I could never have such low respect for myself to do so.” She spat out, a flash of anger running through her before fading away. A part of her regrets confronting him but the majority says that he deserved it. That he’s lucky Ornstein stopped her.

“Do you wish for me to...speak with him?” Her father suggested darkly, leaning back to look her in the eyes, his own filled with silent promises of vengeance and retribution on Alessio for causing her pain. A tempting offer but she turned it down.

“No. I think the public humiliation I caused him was enough. If he tries again though...well, I did promise Sif a nice bone one of these days.”

At the mention, Sif’s tail began to wag eagerly as father and daughter shared matching mischievous grins.

Indeed, there was only one true master of her. And she loved him dearly.

[shadowfae]

For the ask game, 1 through 9, 11, 12?

1 and 5 already answered!

2. What kind of shifts do you normally get (phantom, mental, dream, sensory, etc.)? How long had you been getting shifts before taking up the otherkin label?

It’s hard to say how long, considering how repressed it all was while I tried to fit in, and I am profoundly dumb sometimes and really just never recognized that that’s what that was.

But once I started paying attention, they were pretty frequent. The most common shifts I have are a form of mental / phantom shift, there was a word for it recently where it’s not quite a phantom shift but rather an awareness of where body parts are, even if you can’t exactly feel them. You could ask me what form and where my tail(s) are at any time and even if I can’t feel them right now, I can answer that. Right now, its falling off my chair between the armrest and the back.

Phantom shifts are pretty common, I forget I don’t have a muzzle a lot, and someone’s (whose? No idea, they all have the same mapping) phantom teeth keep bleeding over into my muzzle.

3. How many kintypes do you have? Which one did you discover first? Are you questioning any?

Four, Absol, and Xweetok! :O

4. What types of kintypes do you have? Psychological, spiritual, archetypal? Do you have any clue why? (Ex: someone identifying psychologically as a dragon due to feels from their past lives as a bird and reptile ‘types blending together in the present.)

Spiritual, wondering how much of that was just past lives combined with psychological encouragement of those emotions until it was permanent. As to why I tapped into it or why me specifically, no idea, pretty sure it’ll come back to bite me.

6. For those who got frequent shifts before identifying as otherkin, what did you think caused them? Did you equate shifts of any kind with “nonhuman” feelings before discovering your kintypes?

Tbh I though I just sucked and was weird and different. Couldn’t identify it, didn’t actually try, focused more on “you suck and you’re bad” over “and what makes you so different and is that so bad?” so I really don’t have much of a ‘before I knew I was ‘kin here’s what things looked like’ story. Repression is a hell of a thing.

7. For fictionkin, how long did you know about your source before awakening? Are/were you engaged in the fandom?

Absol: Hard to say. I know I knew on some level that I was an Absol before I started repressing everything. But which one came first? Don’t know. Can’t remember back that far. As for the fandom, I’m a casual fan but not active there.

Pale: A few months. It was nagging at me and I knew something was there but I couldn’t figure out what. Then I unburied it all and got slammed for a few years. As for the fandom... [chuckles in ‘I’m blacklisted from the fandom forever, nobody wants me there, and I am never going back’]

Ranisson: A few years - Ranisson was a parallel life and Drakath was reaching out to those who were reaching toward him. He didn’t make any connection that wasn’t already waiting for him. I came back to AQW after a few years of not being interested, I reached out, he grabbed my magic and yanked me through. As for the fandom, not recently. I got bored of the game and had wandered off to Evillious, which I don’t recommend.

Luteia: Not long. I was with the AQW crew at the time, and Dell’s systemmate Vicers told me to try TGG. Vicers was not fronting often, but he also had a bad habit of never being wrong. Something about the music struck a chord, as I progressed through the game I was fully aware that I knew exactly where everything was and what was going to happen, I saw my own overworld sprite and went “ah yep that one’s me”, saw Reficul and knew her for a friend, recognized Ivlis immediately and wondered where his husband was, made it to the finale and saw Kcalb’s spell, and everything fell into place. As for the fandom, nooooooooooo thank you. Too many KFFs and antis, thanks!

8. What symbols, phrases, or concepts are important/resonant with you due to your kintypes? How long did you associate with these things before realizing the reason?

Elven star is pretty good! Compass rose is another, and nonsensical poetry and worlds. My hearttypes, obviously.

They were primarily how I knew something was there. A gut feeling and a resonance with part of the source material.

9. Do you, on average, get more shifts or memories?

Used to get far more memories. Now? More shifts, and I feel that’s going to continue.

11. For those with more animal-like kintypes (or just literal animals), what are the most significant quirks/behaviors/instincts that

That something, I’m sure. I vocalize like an Absol and also a Xweetok as of late and I sure do love having animalistic mannerisms when I’m allowed to. It’s still hard to say, but I’m working on better identifying shit.

12. For those with more humanoid (in mind or form) kintypes, is the overall species (and the quirks that come with it) just as important to you as the specific personality/memories?

Yup. They’re equally important.

[ask game here!]

[kariachi]

This is it y’all, a day literal months in the coming- here and now I shall liveblog Dragon’s Kin, by Anne and Todd McCaffrey. By which I mean I will read Dragon’s Kin and take note of anything interesting, valuable, or just that comes to my mind. I have never read this book, it’s still in the plastic packaging it came in, I have never read a Todd book.

We’ll see if I survive.

Before I even open the damn thing, I am looking at the image of the McCaffreys on the back and let me say they look like they should be villains in a comedy western.

A Pass brings with it increased earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic activity, due to the whole ‘other celestial body coming in hot’ thing. Which actually makes a lot of sense, certainly more than anything else relating to Threadfall. (“charred bone” is this a fungus or a wildfire)

“Under the leadership of the Lord Holders and Weyrleaders-” *screams into aether*

It took until 16 years prior to the 3rd Pass for the Northern Continent to run out of surface coal and have to start actually digging for the shit

Everybody: Whers? Bah, not much to them, not good for much. Journeyman Miner Natalon: But consider, they might be awesome MasterMiner Britell: Hmmm, I’m keeping an eye on this one...

Chapter 1: “In early morning light I see: A distant dragon come to me”

We meet our main character, Kindan. His sister is getting married, good for her. Shame about the plot that’s going to happen later.

Having a watchwher gets you private housing. Also aw, the wher took their name from Kindan’s father that’s so sweet.

This just in, two boys can’t hang with dragons, settle instead for the simple pleasure of watchwher washing

Zenor: Dragons look like they’re soft, not like watchwhers Kindan: Bitch-

So our biggest asshole so far is a Tarik and honestly I’d be sending him back to the Hall with a nice long report of exactly how much of a fuckwit he is. And I’ve only known him a few pages.

And we meet the other major character- Nuella- who is apparently Somebody though who we have no idea

Oh gods Kindan’s mother is dead, his sister is marrying and leaving, and his father and Dask’s fates are in the fucking summary. Boy is about to have a time.

He has brothers! Well thank fuck.

Whers have external ears

Also I have only known Dask for two paragraphs but I love him

“Then Dask gave a little happy chirp, flapped his wings once, and vanished.” Whers can between, alone and from the ground. Apparently Dask does it all the time go he can avoid the lights from the camp.

Dask is brown, I was figuring but nice to know

Kindan, assuming dragons are harder to wash because they’re fucking massive and need oiling and shit (whers, the dragonkin for the common working fucker)

Chapter 2: “It’s skin is bronze, it’s eyes are green; It’s the loveliest dragon I’ve ever seen”

Damn Kindan’s family is a mess, his brothers are all dicks, his sisters are supposeldy dicks but we haven’t seen them, and the only decent fuckers are leaving or dying

Kindan’s Sister: Kaylek, my brother who loves to sing but couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, you shall sing at my wedding Master Harper: Over my dead body he will!

Kindan’s siblings may be shit, but he’ll be damned if he allows them to talked bad about by some non-relative and he’s stubborn as a wher himself about it

Am I reading a fucking fairytale film? The new Harper is a dick until he realises ‘oh wait, this kid isn’t complete shit, I shouldn’t have said the seriously horrible things I did’

(Seriously “to think your mother died giving birth to you”, I want Dask to eat him too)

Well it’s nice to see that the ‘whers fly at night because the air is thicker’ thing is only speculation by people with no fucking teachings with regard to that shit. At least so far.

Kindan really just went on a paragraph long internal monologue about the value of miners to the function and survival of Pern and for all he doesn’t in his heart want to be one I kinda want to see him grow into it now. Stories of stepping away from what’s expected of you and forging your own path are great (I’ve been writing some) but stories of falling in love with what before looked like something to be avoided can also be nice.

And now we get a two paragraph internal monologue about how awesome whers are. Best miners ever.

“Traditionally, the marriage ceremony was performed in the morning, timed so that as the couple completed their marriage vows, the sun would rise, signifying the warmth of the new relationship and how it would lighten not only the bride and groom but also all those associated with them.” Awwww!!!!

“However, such a ceremony would mean Dask could not attend. So Jofri had come up with the idea of performing the ceremony with the setting sun, instead, and lighting a bonfire as the final vows were made.” Awwwwwww!!!!!!!

For all the shit you hear and see relating to whers in earlier and later periods (that they’re ugly, and disliked, and kept chained up)  it’s so nice to see Dask truly be part of the family, so much so that they changed the fucking wedding to accommodate him. I want this to be the tradition of handler families now. And then we have to remember that one of the other handlers for the camp straight up fucking left because Tarik was being a dick to his wher and he wasn’t having it. Yes, give me wher love.

Oh my gods Dask flying about with a glow in his claws to act as a spotlight as his handler’s daughter walks down the aisle this is so sweet!

And he’s singing along to the music!

He’s doing the groom too! Dask is a gift!

“For now that these two are one, we are all more,“ Master Zist intoned. He placed Silstra’s hand in Terregar’s and kissed each lightly on the cheek. “To Terregar and Silstra!”

The crowd stood up and roared back: “To Terregar and Silstra!”

“Long life and happiness!” Master Zist intoned.

“Long life and happiness!” the crowd roared back.

Kindan and Nuella officially meet.

Nuella, taking advantage of Kindan not wanting to get given chores on this the night of his sister’s wedding and her own presumed misbehavior to get him to keep her well away from any authority.

Nuella is sheltered as fuck, she hasn’t even seen a mashed potato before

Ah, she’s the twin of the big boss’s son. Don’t know why she’s being so fucking hidden I mean good fuck, but, at least we know who she is.

Aw, Zenor is her bestfriend. Not that she has many options but still

Seven fucking brothers! And an unknown number of sisters! No wonder their mother died having the last one, she birthed at least nine surviving children! Do you know how many she’d have had to have to get those numbers? Was she born pregnant, wtf?

Chapter 3: “Watch-wher, whatch-wher in the night; Guard our Hold, keep it right; When the morning sun does come; Watch-wher, then you job is done”

Aw, Kindan’s relationship with the his brothers is healing

Also Zist is a fucking taskmaster. He gets results but damn, man, chill.

The big boss’s son is apparently a sickly child

Dask has been in A Mood which is a never a good sign when you’re talking about your security critter

Miners’ children all just ‘it’s too quiet, something is wrong’ like they’re fucking birds. Not that they’re wrong, mind, but still

Welp, bad air was released and sparked before Dask could warn the miners (I assume a pocket got opened as somebody else struck some stone) and now we’ve got a cave-in. Dask got out and is now killing himself trying to rescue the miners.

Damn his father and his brothers in one day. And Dask fucking dying in his arms after managing to save the survivors despite bleeding out with his handler dead (which, even if whers can outlive their handlers he had to have felt, he’s dragonkin he’d have noticed the bond breaking, he was doing this despite knowing that he wouldn’t find Danil alive on the other side. Was he this dedicated to his work, was he hoping to save Danil’s boys, we’ll never know).

Pour one out for Danil, who did his damnedest to take care of his children, and for Dask, who was too damn good for us.

Zenor survived, but his father is also dead. He and Kaylek saved the poor boy’s life in exchange for their own. Gods the last thoughts that must’ve been going through that man’s head, as he realized that the mine was collapsing and he had brought his son in with him despite him not being near old enough...

Seriously y’all I’m crying

Chapter 4: “I am too big to cry; And my voice is too shy; To sing my sad, sad song; Or say the words I long; To say to you- good-bye, good-bye.”

The book says Kindan is the youngest of nine. It also says he has seven brothers and plural sisters. And the sisters at least lasted long enough to give him shit growing up. The book lies to me.

Okay so, Kindan’s got two siblings remaining- Jakris and Tofir- one of whom has been fostered to I think a sister of theirs? Kindan doesn’t note who ‘Terra and her husband’ are otherwise so I assume it’s another older sister and another of which has been fostered to Crom Hold where he’ll be learning art and maybe someday mapmaking. Kindan is still in the camp.

Zenor wants to take over his dad’s role of miner like boy you are ten stop

Ah, Kindan wants to stay.

If somebody would light Tarik on fire please? Especially given that he’s sitting here claiming the mining will be better without them when it’s already been stated that the shift with a wher gets more ore out of the ground per shift than the the others because the wher itself is a fantastic digger.

Zist: We need someone to raise Kindan Natalon: So good of you to volunteer Zist: o.o

Nobody likes Tarik, good, send the man back to Crom, let them deal with his ass.

And more confirmation that Kindan has sisters, I really need this book to make up it’s mind

Nuella is upset she’ll have to avoid the Harper’s cottage with Kindan living in it

Zist: If I’m going to raise this child then damnit I’m making him a harper

We’re getting much character stuff but not much actually interesting

Chimney got clogged at the big boss’s house, Kindan managed to save the lot by coming by and noticing, the existence of Nuella is now known to him.

Kindan can keep a secret, he is taking  to harpering well

Mine’s having a lot of minor accidents

And now big boss’s wife’s baby is coming early, these fuckers just cannot catch a break

Nuella and her brother switching places back and forth so she can be involved in shit. Also she has some mind for healing

Zist had a daughter at one point- Carissa. Nice name

Also the baby is fine, a month early but fine. She doesn’t have a name yet, I will keep y’all updated

Chapter 5: “A baby’s cry, a mother’s sigh; Sweet things make a day go by”

Zist, having Kindan run around the camp telling adults what they need to do: It’ll be an interesting challenge for you Kindan, Telling the big boss that Zist offered to do his administrative work: He said it would be an interesting challenge for him

Oh shit Nuella is blind! Honestly, fucking slow clap for not making a big deal of it so far

The Traders have women of rank. I know this is a second Interval story but still, worth noting. Shit hasn’t gone completely to shit for the women yet

Nuella is having a crisis because she has no information including on things like ‘women don’t have to bake or be mothers, there are in fact options’. All of this is not helped by her mother stressing out about whether little Larissa is going to go blind like her sister did. Apparently shit went downhill when she was three and now her life is stress and isolation.

Okay, so Natalon’s mother was blind, and now his daughter is blind, and he’s trying to hide it from everybody for fear people are going to think there’s something wrong with him and will stop working with them and that nobody will want to marry his son. He’s given up on Nuella marrying. I want to smack him and adopt his children out to good homes.

Kindan, age 11, starting to realize girls can in fact be cute

Also they’re disguising her so she can play at the ‘yay there’s finally some new company for a few days’ Gather

Even Tarik’s fucking cronies don’t like him!

Nuella’s parents and brother are aware she’s there. No scene will be made.

Nuella getting to dance while Zist chides Kindan about not setting up his also 11-yo friends. “They’re too young to match, and you’re too young to be a matchmaker.”

Ooo, the mysterious missing 8th apprentice was a wherhandler and decided fuck that noise. Can’t blame him, I wouldn’t want ot deal with Tarik either

The assumption is he’d rather face his master’s wrath than work there, which peeps nothign that they’d all rather die than face their own masters’ wraths, and the noting that he may well have been worried about losing his wher to all this shit. Which makes sense with how hostile Tarik has made the place for them

Chapter 6: “Cromcoal, Cromcoal, burning bright; Warm the cold of winter’s night; Cromcoal Cromcoal, underground; Where the best of all coal’s found”

They are calling a dragon to take them to someone called Aleesa for, presumably, a wher egg. We are nearly halfway through this book, by the way, which is a little fucking late to finally be bringing in the wher egg but sure, fine.

Aleesa is the handle or a gold wher. Apparently the title for that is Master. So you get Weyrwomen and Whermasters. That’s pretty cool.

Kindan sees a dragon take note of the ‘we need a dragon’ flag and “Zist listened appreciatively and guided him to crafting a better tale, so that by the end of a sevenday, Kindan’s story took a full fifteen minutes to tell and left all eyes peering up to the sky, hoping for a glimpse of their own.”

Zist has Timed It before. Apparently he accidentally spooked a dragon hatchling when he was younger and they Impressed his friend and at some point he timed it to go back and help himself fix the damage the panicked bronze did. A bronze whose rider is now a Weyrleader, by the by. He’s figuring if it seems like they’ll miss their meeting to get the egg then hopefully they can Time It to get there on time.

Telgar Weyrleader D’gan shows up a week late, bitches about it not being an emergency, talks shit about everybody and everything, is lucky to leave with his life (I’d have killed him). Zist is, I assume, about to call Benden to actually get shit done.

“So, Kindan, what did you think of your first look at a dragon?” “Oh, they’re pretty enough, but you’d never fit one in a mine.”

Benden Weyrleader M’tal, being a proper fucking dragonrider who understands what his fucking duties are, is going to get shit done

People out here respecting whers and their importance, you love to see it.

Chapter 7: “Watch-wher, watch-wher in the mine; Help save life, yours and mine; Guide us in the darkest night; With your keen unfailing sight”

Gaminth reassuring Kindan as they travel Between.

“-to keep the hatchling warm until it’s second, tougher coat came in” Do, do whers shed their skin like birds molt baby fluff? Start with soft wherlet skin and then shed that for tough wher skin? I am amazed and also that’s adorable.

So, you’ve gotta convince the gold to let you pick one of her eggs to take with you. I presume if she says no and you press the matter she eats you.

Oh gods wherhandlers blood their children to their whers! Oh my gods that’s adorable! Make the babies pack! Gods how strong is that did Dask now how many of them were dead dear gods now I’m sad again-

Talking to the queen wher, being polite, sending her mental images, Kindan is a Good Boy

Wher eggs glow! Dimly but they glow! Also good boy Kindan, compliment those eggs!

Also they are half the size of dragon eggs and have wrinkles. (I assume wher eggs are more like snake eggs at first...)

“Eeny, meeny, tipsy, teeny, ah vu bumberosha, nineteen hundred and two, I pick you.” And he gets one with a ring around it in wrinkle.

Aleesa is a fucking Queen, sending Kindan, Zist, a Weyrleader, and the big boss away with a simple “You bore me.” She does make sure to compliment Kindan on a job well done and to reinforce that she expects her payment (which she’d have gotten either way, by the way, wher eggs are pricey and you’re paying for a shot at being allowed to have one)

On the topic of feeding wherlets:

“We’ve been experimenting, actually, on the best post-hatching meal. Watch-whers are not as insatiable as dragons, but they will gulp down meat and sometimes choke, as you know.” She pinned Kindan with a fiery glare, and he nodded as if he knew exactly what she meant. “D’you have oats?”

Kindan nodded, glancing over at Natalon to be sure he was also listening to Aleesa.

“Then arrange to get fresh blood from whoever butchers at the camp. Make porridge of the oats, using water, and add the blood as the oats thicken in the pot. I’d say a half-pail a day should be sufficient. If you keep the blood cool, a pailful should last over a day or two, no trouble. Most camps or Holds slaughter every other day. Feed it was often as it wants, and some of the liver and lungs that might go to waste otherwise. Don’t start meat hunks until three months, when it has enough back teeth to chew with. You can continue with porridge feeds in the morning until the hatchling starts to coats out.”

So the fuckers don’t start with all their teeth on top of everything.

Chapter 8: “Watch-wher, watch-wher in the egg; Grant to me the boon I beg”

This delight of a child is making porridge constantly so that it’ll be ready when the bab hatches. And then when it starts hatching he immediately darts for the porridge.

Bab eats like a fucking garbage disposal

She is also currently assumed to be green and apparently whers have notable enough bits to tell sex even if you can’t be sure of color

Kindan do not call the bab ugly, she is doing her best

“Did it give you a name?” “I didn’t ask.” “It is enough like a dragon to know it’s own name?” “I don’t know.”

“She’s not as big as I thought she would be.“

“Big enough to have the appetite of nine dragons,“ Kindan, almost proudly.

This girl is adorable

The Harper followed him out to the shed and greeted Zenor, who hadn’t moved from the spot in which Kindan had left him. The hatchling had been trying to crawl up his legs, her hungry bleek more insistent.

She has been blooded but not named. Kindan is moving in with her.

Nuella you’re a doll but if you can not assume that a baby can eat whatever an adult can eat, especially when Kindan is working off the knowledge of someone who actually, ya know, has experience with this shit? It’d be great.

The bab is now named Kisk and it’s pretty apparent she named her own damn self, for all that she didn’t use words.

Kindan, in a very 11-yo moment, wonders whether the WherMaster actually knows anything about raising whers since weaning his early worked out fine

Wherlet playing, I repeat, wherlet playing, far too adorable

Kisk is going to be a good little guard, already rooting out people who are where they shouldn’t be

Tarik’s wife likes whers! And is teaching her children to like whers! As all good people should!

Cristov, son of Tarik the Dick, is trying to make up his own mind about whers and-

Kisk darted her tongue out and licked Cristov’s outstretched hand before he could pull it bac,k. She made a sad, don’t-you-like-me noise at Cristov

Tarik: *talks shit like he’s got anything going for him* His Wife: *is gonna fucking smack him if he doesn’t start with some basic decency*

Kisk keeping Kindan up all damn night

Chapter 9: “Walk, baby, walk, come to me; Soon, baby, soon, you’ll walk away from me”

And now they’re trying to say Zenor and Nuella were born and raised in the camp despite saying earlier in the book that they’d been there less than a year two years ago.

Also at 3 months Kisk is 12 hands high at the shoulder and 40 from nose to tail. Which is about 4 ft by 13 ft, and still growing.

Kindan, hit with the sudden realization that oh, yeah, being a wherhandler is going to mean not being a harper

Nuella if anything the fact Kindan can’t see in the dark and doesn’t know where he’s going is all the more reason it’d be better training for Kisk to lead him than you, who knows this tunnel like the back of her hand, blind or no

Ooo, Tarik the Dick had a camp the failed, so now he’s all sour because his nephew’s doing better than him.

M’tal is here, Telgar is still bitches (what is it with Telgar being assholes?) and whers apparently don’t have the same problems with oiling and shit dragons do despite growing far faster which makes no damn sense but sure

Whers and dragons can chat amongst themselves, to the surprise of noone, or at least not me.

Nuella’s sweet on Zenor and honestly, go for it kiddo

Kisk is starting to learn.

Chapter 10: Hot air rises, cold air falls; These are thermodynamic laws

(Fuckers expect me to believe the Pernese couldn’t keep the word ‘year’ but ‘thermodynamic’ survived)

Nuella theorizing that whers see heat because she can feel it. I want to say it’s because she’s twelve and, as kids do, thinks she knows everything, but the more I read the more I’m fairly sure it’s just that the McCaffrey’s want her to be Amazing and The Best (which, ugh) and so are just, doing this. It doesn’t work.

Dragonriders here looking for a potential goldrider (very clearly Nuella from the conversation) and lamenting that based on the dragon’s description she might be blind and therefor ‘unable to Impress’ and just- Shit that makes you wanna throw things

Ya know they did so good before they revealed Nuella is blind. She was just another kid then, it was nice, but now... I love her but my hackles are raising

Also can I just say that whers seeing heat is the stupidest thing I’ve heard yet, given everything we know about their anatomy leads to them seeing in the darkness like everything else with massive fucking eyes and a nocturnal disposition.

Operation: Teach Whers to Bespeak Dragons During Emergencies is a go

Nuella claiming that whers can’t be taught to Between because nobody can see heat like they (apparently) can and we’re to take this as gospel despite the like, second thing Dask ever did on-page being to Between on his lonesome. Did these people not have editors? It didn’t seem so bad at first but as time goes on and we get more shit that contradicts other shit (we got contradicting information within pages of each other for fuck’s sake) I am slowly losing my mind

Tarik continues to be a dick and refuses to shore up his tunnels correctly. And he wonders why he lost his fucking camp.

Kindan saw through Kisk’s eyes during hide-and-seek

Chapter 11: “Watch-wher, watch-wher, guard us all; With your dragon-summoning call”

Turns out wherhandlers don’t take well to some dragonrider coming by and trying to teach them about their whers.

Nuella is being offered the chance to go teach whers to chat with dragons.

Everyone is supportive even while she has a quick little existential breakdown that’s probably been building for a while

We skip forward to Nuella going via dragon to Lemos to start her work. Dragons like her and she takes well to Between

Wherhandlers really can’t do well learning from dragonriders because their critters are so different

Nuella is good at what she does.

There’s far too much of old men going ‘*gasp* this child suddenly reminds me of [blank] they are amazing’ though

Whers and their handlers are learning

Turns out, surprise surprise, whers are awesome

Chapter 12: “Harper, harper, sing me a song; Give me a tune that lasts all day long”

Feels like it’s trying too hard...

Tarik the Dick has caused a cave-in and now is refusing to do anything about it because he is, well, see above

There is a now a team of rescuers, mostly kids, out to save the day via secret passage and wher

Nuella: Lolanth, I need your rider to send word to the MasterMiner and also get the pumps pulling air out the mines Lolanth: I have told my rider, and called Gaminth, he and his are coming, and I’ve called Ista, they’re coming, and I’ve told the miners-

Lolanth is a Good Dragon who apparently does not go halfsies

Lolanth got everyone and their grandmother to this camp within thirty seconds

On the one hand, blind characters getting to be awesome, one the other, this is really leaning towards Magically Disabled. Nobody can hear things like Nuella can, nobody can work with whers like Nuella can, nobody is as smart as Nuella is, she’s 12 and better than the majority of the adults around her, just, if they could fucking chill for five minutes.

Also people are alive on the other side of the cave-in

Finally Kindan remembers that Dask could Between, and I promise you it’s going to turn out that he was a miracle and only Nuella (who has no idea what’s on the other side of the cave-in) can show Kisk where she needs to go

Wow, it’s like I’m magic

Chapter 13: “Watch-wher, watch-wher, do you know; All the places you can go?”

I’m glad everybody who survived the cave-in is saved but we just got a fucking paragraph “But it is I who have been blind” speech from Nuella’s father and just. Kill me, please.

And Kisk has decided to swap handlers and be Nuelsk now.

And Kindan is going off to become a Harper.

~~

Okay, not the worst book I’ve read. There were places that needed editing, there was a lot of shit that contradicted each other (Kindan’s everchanging number of siblings just being one example), it had plenty of the McCaffrey’s trademark Totally Accurate Science, and the longer I spent reading it the more it felt like one of those ‘see, disabled people can also do things and be capable’ stories complete with a fucking “But it is I who have been blind” (literal quote, kill me now). And this shit is from 2003. On the plus side though, there’s plenty of quality wher content and the kids are fun when the writers aren’t on their little Not A Soapbox.

Overall, a 6/10, if someone wrote an anosmiac character this way I’d want their head on a stick no matter how badass they were.

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven: Day 7

Prompt: Sleep Rating: G Words: 2,061 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Penelope Fisher Summary: Three times during their partnership where there was only one bed.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

June 24, 1999 Classified Agency safehouse, north of Nepal

“There’s only one bed.”

Cameron sighed.  “I’d hoped that there would be at least two when the place was assigned to us.  Sorry.”  

Exhausted, Penelope dropped her hiking pack to the ground and pulled off her thick winter coat.  “Rock, Paper, Scissors you for it?”

He shook his head, going over and grabbing one of the spare pillows.  “No need, I’ll take the sofa.”  It was a short loveseat that he was certain his long legs were going to drape uncomfortably over the side, but he was too tired to complain.  While the two of them weren’t exactly a unit unto themselves, they’d been recently partnered up.  This whole “mission” was an Agency-mandated exercise to get to know the other better as well as to check up on the lone Yeti that made this part of the Himalayas.  There hadn’t been a sighting in some time and the Agency was growing concerned over their well-being.  

Penelope moved over to the tiny stove in the middle of the similarly tiny shack on the side of the mountain and started it up.  “I’m tempted to just sleep in wolf form to fight the worst of the cold.” She trailed off.  “Shit.  I’m sorry, Cameron.”

He waved her off.  “Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“It was insensitive of me.”

Cameron walked over to the fire and warmed his hands.  The loss of his sealskin was still a sensitive topic for him nine years after the fact, but he was trying his best to overcome the pain.  His burns had long since healed over, but the cold was making the worst of the scars sting and the muscles underneath stiffen.  “It’s okay, I promise.  And it was a smart idea; fur would be an advantage right about now.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.”  He turned his back to give Penelope privacy as she shed her clothing, his ears picking up the sound of material being folded.  He smiled as he also heard her curse and teeth chatter before the unfamiliar prickle of magic made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.  

His chest tightened.  For the briefest of seconds, he almost remembered how it felt to change from man to seal.  “See?  Lots more comfortable, I bet.”  He eyed the too-short sofa then the bed that in her current form, was far too small for Penelope.  “If you’re not using it, you mind if I do?”

Penelope gave a soft huffing noise before curling her body close to the stove.  Cameron took that as a sign enough and only taking off his boots and coat, curled into bed.  It wasn’t long before the warmth of the stove and the heat radiating off Penelope’s larger frame lulled him to sleep.

November 12, 2009 Las Vegas, Nevada

“There’s only one bed.”

“Did you expect anything less?” Penelope asked, kicking off her heels the second she stepped foot in the hotel room.  It was classier than what they had been staying at, and while she could hold her own in more rustic conditions, she did appreciate the nicer accommodations when they were given to them.  “We’re supposed to be man and wife for this investigation.”

“Could you say that a little louder?” Nicolo’s voice hissed in their ear.  “I don’t think everyone listening heard you.”

Cameron undid the cufflinks at his wrists and loosened his tie.  “Please, we’re surrounded by nothing but humans.  Our cover is still good.”  The sooner they could get out of this situation, the better.  There had been a rash of supernatural children being kidnapped and the Agency had narrowed a trafficking ring to the very hotel they were staying at.  Some rich humans were selling the children to the highest bidders under the guise of a charity gala.  Cam’s blood boiled as he recalled the past hour of putting on a smiling mask and listening as one after another, people were spreading the rumor that a supernatural child’s blood was the key to everlasting youth.

“Calm down,” Penelope told him, coming up to him to undo his tie.  “Your hackles are raised.”

“And yours aren’t?”

She sneered.  “I was instructed to not shift and murder everyone on sight.  If I had to hold my temper while being pawed at by greedy old men, then you can do the same.”  She sighed and swayed towards him.  “I want this over with.”

He bent his head so he could press his forehead against hers.  “I know.  Soon.”

“Not soon enough.  Those poor kids.”  She closed her eyes tightly.  “I keep thinking about my nieces and nephews.  If any of them had been taken…”

Cam’s arms went around her and hugged her tightly.  “We would be doing the same thing.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”  Children had always been a soft spot in Penelope’s priorities, and just the thought of any of them being used for some horrendous belief that their blood could prolong human life was enough to make her want to rip everyone in the room they had just been in to shreds.

“Come on,” Cam told her, his lips at her brow.  “We’ve got a few hours; get some sleep so we can end this with the other agents.”

Nicky’s voice buzzed in their earpieces.  “Both of you get some rest.  I’m tapped into the security system and the rest of the Agency techies are covering the rest of the hotel.  We’ll need you both at your best to take those fuckers down.  Anything happens, I’ll let you know.”

“He’s got a point,” Penelope said, breaking away to head to the bathroom.  Cam heard the rustle of fabric and she emerged wearing a more practical outfit for combat.  He traded places with her and came out wearing pretty much the same.  

“Pick a side,” he told her, tidying the room to get rid of some nervous energy.  He’d memorized the layout of the hotel long before they had entered the infiltration phase of the operation.  He’d met with the other commanding agents from the other units assigned to the case.  Alpha and Bravo were in various staging locations, along with Delta and Echo agents.  

Their bags were packed before he even realized what he’d been doing, so caught up in going over mission objectives.  At least it was one less thing for them to have to do post-operation.

“Come to bed,” Penelope called, and Cameron froze.  She’d taken her hair down from the stiff twist it had been in most of the evening and it cascaded down over her shoulders to fall in a silvery puddle at her waist.  They’d been partners for a little under ten years and there wasn’t a person alive that he trusted more than her.  Silently taking her advice, he climbed into bed and tried to relax.

“Everything will happen as planned,” she told him.

“You think so?”

Her hand slid into his and she laced their fingers together.  “I know so.”

He squeezed her fingers, running his thumb along the side of her hand.  “Then I believe you.”  Closing his eyes, he let the steady sound of her heartbeat send him into a light, yet somehow restful sleep.

April 15, 2015 Portree, Isle of Skye

“There’s only one bed.”

“I know.” Penny put her bag down beside an easy chair and crossed her arms over her chest.  “The rates were a lot cheaper for two singles instead of a single and a double.”

His eyebrow quirked and he gave her a halfhearted smirk.  “I guess frugality won over concern for my virtue.  What will the locals think, lass?” 

She rolled her eyes, focusing on the way that his normally lilting accent had grown thicker in the days leading up to their arrival of a scenic little town off the west coast of Scotland.  He’d tried to hide it from her and Nicky, but they could both tell that this mission was a difficult one for him.  “Talk to me, Cam,” she said softly, watching as he opened the door leading out to the small balcony.  He left it open, which she took as a cue that he wanted her to follow.

“I haven’t been in this area in years,” he quietly confessed, eyes sliding shut as the breeze coming off the water pushed his hair back.  “Can you hear the waves, Pen?  They call to me.”  He wrapped his hands around the metal railing and held on tightly until his knuckles turned white.  He opened his eyes and there was such a depth of sadness within them that Penelope’s heart ached. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard this particular call.  Like a mother welcoming her son home.”

“Are you all right?”

“No.”  He let out a shuddering breath, one of his hands reaching up to touch the back of his neck where the edge of a faint burn scar began.  “I’m afraid,” Cameron told her, his voice barely audible above the sound of the sea.

“Of?”  She moved so she was closer to him, their arms touching as a way to anchor him to her, to the moment.

“The Agency sent me specifically to come and help this pod of selkies because on some level, they’re my kinsman.  But what if they hold this,” he pushed up the sleeve of his sweater over his arm, the discolored splotches on his forearm standing out in harsh contrast to the rest of his skin, “against me and think me unworthy of their notice?”

She frowned.  “Then they aren’t worth calling kin.  Family is family, no matter if they can shift or not.  If they refuse to work with you, then fine.  We can send another agency unit in to talk.  They were the ones to contact us in the first place.”

He was silent as he stared out to the sea, but he leaned against her, their shoulders touching.  “I’m so glad that you’re here with me.  Nicky too, even if he’s done nothing but complain about the cold since we got here.”

She gave him a smile and bumped her shoulder companionably against his.  “We’ll get through this mission together, then head back home.”  She didn’t know if her statement was supposed to comfort him or if it was a warning that his visit so close to the shores and waters he used to call home was going to be a short one.

“You’re right.”  Stepping away from the balcony, he made his way back inside.  “Jet lag is absolute murder, I’m beat.”

“Then pick a side.  I’m going to go check in on Nicky, see how he’s settling in.  Do you want any dinner, or do you want to grab something later?”

“Maybe later.  I’ll probably crash out until morning.  Don’t worry about waking me up when you come in, you know I usually sleep like a rock when we move time zones.”

True to his word, Cam was out like a light when Penny came back to their room, not even stirring when she slid into the king sized bed with him.  She hadn’t expressed it, but she worried about him, being so close to home after being away for twenty-five years.  While it wasn’t quite near the same area as the little fishing village he’d last called home, it was close enough for concern.  Moving to her side, she stared at his sleeping face until eyes not able to stay open any longer, she succumbed to sleep herself.

Unlike Cam, she was an incredibly light sleeper who woke at the barest of movements.  She didn’t alert him to her wakefulness when he slid out of bed, and she didn’t turn at the sound of the balcony door gently opening and closing.  She did finally turn in time to see Cam, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely to his hips, resume his stance out on the balcony, his back to her and his face to the sea.

For the first time in the sixteen years she’d known her partner, she feared that their mission would end and she and Nicky would be the only ones returning to the Agency.  Turning around to give him and his thoughts privacy, she reached out, pulling the pillow next to her that still smelled of his shampoo close and hugging it tightly to her chest.

[takadasaiko]

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours (a Veronica Mars one shot)

Part of my Spanning Years. Continents. series. 

FFN II AO3

Summary: While out on deployment Logan's squad is attacked and Veronica gets a call: he's missing. So starts the clock on the longest week of her life.

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours

The call came in on the landline at the office and Veronica barely registered the concerned tone as Mac let her know that there was a Commander Eduardo Ruiz who had asked specifically for her. They were close enough to San Diego that it wasn't abnormal to have clients from the base. She just had to make sure that she toed the confidentiality line with her Naval Aviator boyfriend at home. Depending on the situation the lines could cut too close, but sometimes it worked in their favour. There'd been a time or two that Mars Investigation had gained a client because of Logan. Once by direct referral and a second one that had heard about them through the grapevine, as it were. Deployment left their Skype sessions short and sacred, so it was easy to believe that it had simply slipped his mind to tell her that he was sending someone her way.

Except he hadn't.

This wasn't wasn't a call for her services.

Veronica felt her world shift dangerously as Commander Eduardo Ruiz informed her that Lieutenant Logan Echolls' F/A-18 Hornet had been struck by enemy fire while over an undisclosed location. Both he and his Weapons System Officer Dave Riley had successfully ejected. The rescue team had found the remains of the Hornet, but there were signs of a possible struggle on the ground and neither Lieutenant Echolls nor Riley had been found as of yet. She was listed as his next-of-kin and they would let her know as soon as they had an update.

Commander Ruiz's voice was terrifyingly calm and stiff as he spoke, the words rehearsed, possibly even scripted. If he knew Logan or had any attachment to him at all, Veronica had no idea, and he couldn't answer any questions that she rattled off at him. There had certainly been a few. For each one he gave the same answer: the United States Navy was doing everything in their power to recover their two missing officers. He might as well have been saying that he was looking for a needle dropped into some Iraqi desert.

Veronica supposed that Commander Ruiz indicated that he was going to end the call before he actually did, but she found herself sitting at her desk with the phone still pressed to her ear and gaze fixed on nothing in particular in front of her, terror ripping through every vein.

Logan was missing.

He'd been shot down by enemy fire and he was missing in some foreign land that Veronica had no contacts in and no reach to. She could feel that realization - that helplessness - press down so firmly against her that someone might as well have punched her in the gut. She couldn't breathe, and while her mind was going a million miles a second, nothing of any use was making it through.

"Veronica?" Mac asked tentatively and the blonde woman blinked, finally registering that the line was dead in her ear and one of her two best friends was standing at the door to her office, her tone hesitant and her expression worried. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's -" She stopped mid-sentence. She could lie to Mac, tell her everything was fine, but unless they found him in the next five seconds before she visibly cracked it'd be really hard to explain. The thing was she wasn't sure she had it in her to actually tell her the truth either. It was anything but okay, but even though she had heard it, even though the terrible understanding was spinning around in her mind like a record skipping, saying it out loud made it real. Forcing her mind to sort the words from the chaos, formulate sounds that would bubble up to her tongue and escape through her lips made it real. So Veronica found herself stammering with her mouth open, nothing escaping her but a couple of dry, half-attempts at words that she couldn't even decide on, and suddenly her vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance, almost like down a tunnel, Veronica heard Mac call her name. "Is he….?"

"I don't know," she gasped, feeling strange and hot tears slide down her cheeks without having anything remotely close to permission to be there. "They don't know."

"They don't…. I'm sorry. I'm confused," Mac managed and Veronica heard her circle the desk more than saw it. She blinked hard and it helped a little. "How do they not know?"

"He's missing. He and Riley are missing," she managed, hating how raw and terrified she sounded. "There was a fight and a crash and…."

Veronica looked up and she must have looked like hell from the way that Mac's confusion crumbled into worry. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Logan's crazy stubborn. They'll find him."

If she believed it in that moment or not was anybody's best guess, but Veronica's usual BS meter was cracked and broken on the floor beneath the weight of the unknown.

"I need answers," Veronica breathed, even as the dial tone sang out from the phone still clutched in her hand laid out on her desk. She couldn't seem to find the will to move to return it to the cradle.

"I don't think we can get those," Mac answered, her voice equally as quiet. "You're the first person they'll call, right?"

Veronica's tear-filled gaze snapped over to her friend and she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty as Mac flinched back at it. "I need answers."

"Okay," Mac whispered, nodding as she spoke. "Okay. Then tell me everything you know and I'll find you everything I can."

--------

Veronica swore that when - not if, when- Logan got home, she'd never let something pesky like national security get in the way of her drilling him for information again. As it stood now, he had told her as much as he said he could. They were in the Middle East - sure, small area. Only a few hot spots. Super easy to find a downed jet in all of that desert. What was the Navy thinking? - and halfway through deployment. Maybe she should start with his squadron. They had been together before Logan had tumbled back into her life - before she'd tumbled back into his? - but he usually talked about them by their call signs.

There was Coma from East Texas with his painfully slow drawl that Logan and the rest of the guys gave him so much shit over, Kasper that made snow look tan, Siesta that could fall asleep anywhere, and ALF - annoying little fuck - that just wouldn't shut up. There were more, but she only knew Riley by his given name, and even that was turning up with nothing except a couple that Mac thought were probably his parents out in the Midwest. Not that they'd have any more information than Veronica had been given. Hence being updated as Logan's next-of-kin.

Mac was a saint for the effort she was putting into the search, given what little Veronica could provide. They were well into the zone, treating it like any other case when Keith had come back into the office. He must have called out to one or both of them at least a couple of times because Veronica didn't look up - jumped might be a more accurate description, but she'd never admit to it - until he knocked on her desk as if he were knocking on a door. "Something come in while I was out?"

It was a blessing in disguise, that focus, and she rattled it off with only a twinge of pain on the outskirts of the words until she realized her father was dead silent. She didn't acknowledge it until he circled her desk and he stooped down to wrap his arms around her. His was a normal reaction, she knew. It was terrible news. Riley's family was probably in tears and utterly unable to do anything other than wait by the phone for any update that the Navy could possibly give them, and while she'd finally managed to put the phone back on the hook at some point so that a call could come through, there she was trying to track down the non-existent trails that would never actually lead to Logan. Still, it was better than sitting idly by. That would drive her insane.

What was it Logan had said back in college? I'm not built to stand on the sidelines. Well, neither was she. She had to do something. Thankfully Keith didn't try to talk her down from the frenzy.

It was late before Veronica finally relented to the truth that they weren't finding anything new on their end that night. Her father tried to convince her to come back to his place so that she wouldn't have to be alone while waiting for the news. She had Pony home, she reminded him, and while she and Logan had paid their pet deposit that they'd never get back, her dad hadn't. No need to bring an oversized puppy that still thought pieces of furniture were his chew toys to his place. Instead, Mac had managed to convince her to let her sleep on the couch. At least Veronica hoped she slept, because she sure didn't. No, that first night she'd gone into the dresser, pulled out one of his favourite t-shirts, and slipped it on to lay with her cheek pressed into his pillow. He'd already been gone for three months. It wasn't like there was any real trace of him there, but if she tried hard enough she could imagine it. And if she turned her back to his side of the bed she could almost pretend that he was laid curled up on his side, breathing softly and steadily. Alive and safe and home.

The next night, after a day of equally useless information that was really none at all, Wallace had pushed his way into the situation and had taken up Mac's exhausted place on her couch.

It was the earliest hours of the morning when Veronica's cell phone started singing next to her bed, dragging her out of the restless sleep filled with worst-case-scenarios playing out in her mind's eye. She didn't even look at the caller ID as she slammed her thumb against the accept button. "Hello?"

Commander Ruiz was on the line again in that same rehearsed tone, but somehow, even with no real reflection in his voice to speak of, the words felt lighter. They'd been found. Both Logan and Riley. They had been transferred to a Naval hospital there in the Middle East. Next steps would depend on the extent of their injuries, but if all went well they would be transferred back stateside rather than moving to a medical ship or a hospital on a European base. While Veronica would have preferred the news to have been closer to Logan's in San Diego right this second, she would take alive and on foreign soil versus the unspeakable alternative without hesitation.

She had assumed it would be Ruiz with another update when the number lit her phone up the next day and Veronica had to stop and check herself at the familiar voice filtered over the bad connection. "Logan?" she breathed, pretty sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Hey." He sounded tired, his voice a little hoarse.

She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. "Are you okay?" They still hadn't given her any details other than that he'd been found and was alive. If he was hurt or how badly, she had no idea.

"More or less. Listen, I can't talk long, but I just…. needed to hear your voice."

Veronica swallowed hard, willing her voice to work. To tell him she needed to hear his too and that she needed him home right then. He didn't give her a chance as he cleared his throat.

"And to ask you not to be pissed."

Okay, that wasn't what she'd expected. "Why would I -?"

"I'm coming home," he said firmly, which only made his statement a moment earlier more confusing. "They were talking about sending me today."

"That's good news, right?"

She heard a sound from the other end of the line. "Yeah. One sec," he called back to someone on his end of the line before speaking directly onto the phone. "Veronica…."

"Still here."

"They wanna send me home, but Riles is gonna take a few more days. We had to eject. He… snapped his leg on the landing. He always hated those jumps."

"Bet he really does now," Veronica breathed, her mind calling up the image of the man that literally had Logan's back in the air. She liked Riley. He was sharp, with a wit that could match Logan's and a quirky and sometimes twisted sense of humour that was apparently born from a need to stand out among ten siblings. From what she could see, he'd also become one of the most loyal people to enter Logan's life after she had left for Stanford. They were close. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I hope so. He's in surgery now and they said it's going to be a long one. I don't wanna be gone when he wakes up, you know?"

"I know." She hated the words as they slipped out, but she knew how selfish it would have been to say anything else. Right then, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to tell him to get his ass home so that she could hold onto him like she'd never let go.

"Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"I gotta go."

"Call me when you can?"

"Yeah. Love you."

And then the line was dead, leaving Veronica sitting alone on the couch in their apartment. She squeezed her eyes shut, the last forty-eight hours' roller coaster of emotions washing over her as she tried to steady herself. "Love you too," she whispered into the empty living room.

--------

She spoke to him at least for a couple of minutes a day until he came home, but even hearing his voice on the other end of the line wasn't enough to keep the darker parts of her mind from playing tricks on her. She remembered how it had twisted her around during his first deployment after they had gotten back together, but at least then the dangers had all been theoretical. Sure, he was fighting a war and sure enemy aircraft or ships or what-have-you could take a shot at him and send him spiraling towards the unrelenting ground below. She knew that, and on some days it felt more real than others, but even after hearing his voice and that he'd made it out of this close call mostly intact Veronica needed to see him with her own eyes.

The first time he had come back from deployment it had been on the ship he'd left out on, but this time he and Riley were sent home on a transport plane that was due in late in the afternoon. Veronica had spent the entire day jittery and had driven down to San Diego with hours to spare. Wallace, Mac, and her dad had all offered to help with anything she needed from puppy duty to going with her so that she wouldn't have to wait alone. She'd declined the latter, instead opting to become well acquainted with the accelerator in Logan's BMW. Thankfully the PCH wasn't being heavily patrolled or she would have had to pay a mint for the ticket dealt out.

It felt like forever before Logan arrived safely and securely on the ground. He was on his feet when she saw him, left arm in a sling and bruises darkened under his eye and down along his jawline on the right side of his face. He looked exhausted, but still better than Riley who was stuck in a wheelchair with a cast nearly all the way up his leg. That was gonna suck. Probably already did, if he was due for pain meds anytime soon.

Logan spotted her and Veronica felt a rush of relief at that smile. She took off towards him, having to force herself to stop rather than latch her arms around his neck to hold on tight. He'd finally given her a list of his injuries - the worst being a torn muscle in his shoulder and a concussion - and she didn't want to risk hurting him.

He didn't seem to have the same hold up. Logan covered the last few steps and wrapped his uninjured arm around her, pulling her in more than up and leaned in for a kiss. Veronica's arms slid around his middle, fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform as she pulled him deeper into it. They stayed there in that moment, neither willing to let go of the other even as she heard Riley shout a joke about waiting till they had a room from off to the side. Logan loosed his grip on her and Veronica was pretty sure he shot Riley the bird, only confirmed by the other man's chuckle.

Veronica finally - reluctantly - broke the kiss. "You okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Let's talk when we get home."

She nodded and turned towards Riley. "How ya doin', Riley?"

"I gave as good as I got," the Weapons System Officer promised with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh yes. The ground never saw him coming," Logan answered, a smirk tugging at his lips and one eyebrow quirked up at his friend. "You sure we can't give you a ride?"

"Nah. My folks flew in. Apparently going MIA warrants a flight in from the homeland."

Veronica snorted. "Aren't you from Nebraska?"

He gave a casual shrug and a noncommittal mehbefore he started wheeling himself towards a small group of people that Veronica could only assume were his family if the collection of redheads were anything to go by. He offered a quick wave as he rolled forward. "See you in a couple days."

"Yeah," Logan huffed the response, his voice low enough that Riley probably hadn't even heard it.

Veronica turned back to him, watching the smile leave his eyes first, exhaustion taking its place, and then his thin lips evened out into a straight line. She touched his arm. "Let's go home."

Thankfully it didn't take much to get back to the car and off the base. Logan asked her to keep the top down on the BMW, even if he wasn't the one driving. She glanced over every handful of minutes as they started up the PCH, watching as he slowly relaxed into the seat. His eyes drifted closed, the lines in his face softened a little, and it was everything she could do not to reach out to him. Finally, she lost her battle and her hand slid over of its own volition to his knee. He startled in his place, but only for a moment, and settled back in as he moved his right arm across his body so that it could rest on her hand. Apparently she wasn't the only one craving touch at that moment.

The sun was setting by the time they got home and Veronica and Logan took the stairs up to their apartment slowly. She frowned as she fit the keys into the lock and turned only to find it already unlocked. She pushed the door open and loosed a relieved breath at the sight of her father refilling Pony's food bowl, the leash laid out on the counter. Keith looked as startled as she felt, straightening with a grimace, and turned fully towards them. "Hey. I didn't know what time you two would be here." His gaze drifted past Veronica. "Logan. Good to see you home."

"Good to be home," he answered, his voice quiet and more than a little tired.

"I won't keep you. I brought some Thai over. It's in the fridge if you get hungry."

"You didn't need to do that, Dad," Veronica tried and her father gave a small smile.

"I wanted to. Mac and I'll hold down the fort for the next few days. Take your time. And if you need anything -"

"Pretty sure I know your number," she promised, the corners of her lips tugging up and she wrapped a hug around her dad's neck before letting him slip out their front door, the cane he still leaned on after the car wreck sounding softly as he eased his way down the stairs. Three flights weren't easy for him to climb to drop off food and feed a puppy. He'd wanted to check on them. Not just her, but both of them, and there was something comforting in that knowledge.

Logan loosed a long breath, drawing her attention around as he moved slowly into the apartment. He dropped to a knee to greet Pony with a scratch behind the ears and a few soft words before straightening again. "Thai sounds amazing right about now."

"Don't have that on your ship, do ya?"

"Definitely not."

Or in the desert when you're missing for nearly thirty-six hours.Yeah, that probably wasn't the best way to lead into reminding him that he'd told her they'd talk when they got home. She wanted to. More than anything she wanted to hear every inch of what had happened, but while Logan was a fan of talking about nearly anything, when it came to his own personal traumas he tended to toss out a flippant remark and keep his feelings to himself. He knew her. He knew she was dying to ask, but she knew him too, and he probably hadn't given himself time to even start processing until they were back on US soil. Hence the reason he looked so damn tired.

They ate in silence, Veronica not trusting herself to hold back the questions. She wasn't sure how long had passed as she shoveled mouthful after mouthful of food, glancing over to see that Logan had stopped altogether. His brows were drawn tightly, his lips pulled down at the corners, and his grip on the chopsticks was firm. "I'm sorry," he breathed after a long moment.

"What for?"

"Scaring you. I'm guessing I probably scared you." He finally turned to look at her, those soft brown eyes making it hard to breathe.

"Understatement," she answered softly, "but it wasn't your fault."

"We, uh… We were so focused on the aerial fight that we missed what was happening on the ground. He was on Doc and ALF's tail, Riles and I took the guy out, but there was fire from below. They didn't have to eject, we did." Logan swallowed hard, clearly having trouble trying to get through the story he knew she wanted and Veronica did her best to keep her expression even. She reached out, her hand against his, and he set his chopsticks down to thread his fingers through her own and continue. "We got lucky. I mean, Riles might call bullshit. He's the one with a broken leg, but there weren't too many on the ground where we landed. We got out alive, laid low, and they found us."

There weren't too many on the ground. Right. Okay. Maybe she didn't want to know how he'd busted his shoulder and gotten a concussion. The little he'd told her was a lot to digest, and he'd been doing it by himself for the last week. Well, him and Riley.

"I didn't know about Doc and ALF. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Those were fun calls."

Right. He was their squad leader. While someone above his head probably made the calls while he was MIA, Logan would have followed up with the families. For all of the responsibilities he skirted as a teenager, he took on even more while serving in the Navy. She'd never gotten the full story on exactly where the change had happened, and maybe it was because real change never happens at a single point in a person's life. She knew that somewhere in his sophomore year at Hearst he had bottomed out and he'd landed in ROTC. He'd met Riley there and Riley had been the one to steer him towards aviation. Logan had said once or twice that Riley had saved his life, and Veronica had always wondered if that wasn't just up in the clouds.

"Part of the job," Logan murmured and squeezed her hand. "Funerals'll be the hardest. That's in a couple of days."

Ah. So that's what Riley has meant. Veronica hadn't thought that they'd demand him back at work quite that quickly. Not while he was on medical leave. At least she'd hoped that they wouldn't. The idea of only having a day or two with him after all of this tied her stomach up in knots.

She pursed her lips together. "I'm selfish," she admitted softly, catching his confused gaze at the seemingly abrupt statement. "I hate that they're gone. I know they meant a lot to you, but…." She closed her eyes, struggling to find the words. She felt like such an asshole voicing them. These were people that he cared about, people that other people cared about. They weren't just names or call signs. They were good guys. Logan respected them, and even prefacing that she felt selfish for saying this didn't make it any better.

"Hey." She opened her eyes to find him looking directly at her. "You're good. You just listened to me. It's your turn."

She reached her free hand up to the side of his face, her fingers curling around bruised skin carefully. "These have been the longest hundred and sixty-eight hours of my life. I thought I'd lost you. Before, every time something split us apart, we could come back from it. Nine years and we came back from it, but…"

The words she'd meant to say got stuck in her throat, a sob choking them down, and Logan leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm here," he promised. "When our plane got hit, when we ejected…. all I could think about was you. About how I couldn't die not having seen you again. Veronica." He waited until she looked at him. "I love you. No matter what happens, it's you. You're the one I'm coming home to, and I'm always going to come home."

She felt the dam break and the tears started to blur her vision. There were so few people she could show anything akin to weakness to, but she saw the same glassy look in Logan's eyes and she leaned forward, her lips pressed against his. She could taste the salt from the tears - hers or his, she couldn't be sure - as he scooted himself off the bar stool. His movements were slow and a little awkward with one arm still firmly secured in the sling, but she followed him back to the bedroom.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Seven days. One week.

But tonight she laid curled up against him, her cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers worked their way through her hair. They would face the next challenges when the sun came up. Right then, in that moment, she felt herself finally drifting towards sleep with the steady beat of his heart a reminder that their epic story wasn't over. He was home, he was safe, and he would always come back to her.

[kob131]

So the OP of that post just deleted their blog.

Before they claim I tried to harass them- 

I’mma gonna post the response I made to them and link to the original reblog to showcase I did NOTHING to make them reblog.

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/626185371460468736/modernmythmansion-you-know-what-really-bugs-me

Well good thing I’m not one of the ones who do that.

Too bad you openly say ‘I am speaking for the RWDE Tag which is composed as individuals’ so what you specifically do doesn’t matter.

When I’m expressing my negative feelings and opinions I don’t expect them to listen, I am simply reaching out to those who are just as unhappy, that’s what the RWDE tag is for. Despite what you see on the vile slums of social networks, there are plenty of people who express their thoughts and feelings just to reach out to others and work out there problems

Actually the RWDE tag is for criticisms according to several members of the RWDE tag.

Or is about venting and nothing else? Lot of people love to claim that as well.

You want to proclaim a group is X? Make sure said group doesn’t give conflicting info.

Well not my shit pal. And the ones who I am speaking for are not either.

Too bad they disagree with you. Wanna try saying that to Soku or Dudeblade?

If that’s what they’re gonna say, then say it. Just do it in a way that accepts the reality that they probably won’t listen, and instead use that criticism as well what you liked about the show and create something new.

Can’t, get called egotistical and demanded to be booted if you do.

Same tag did that shit.

Good, because I don’t. In fact you and your ilk love to accuse us of doing that because your definition of threatening and demanding is so broad, and don’t act like you don’t do that, you do that.

“Hey don’t say stuff I don’t do! We can’t be held accountable as a group!”

“Fuck you, your people did this and I’ll hold you accountable as a group!”

Nice double standards you have there.

Tell me, how does one DO expresses their subjective criticism that acknowledges that its subjective and not fact? Please, I would LOVE to hear how its done.

“In my opinion”.

There.

Oh ok, so it’s only okay when your kin do it.

A. Actively attacked RWBY fans.

And B. I call the individuals idiots for the reasons given in my posts.

Your assuming that I have a beef with Jaune, or that other dissenters do have a beef with Jaune as this rabid mob does we are in league with each other. You tend to assume what you want to prove in order to prove something else.  

‘They’re acting in a way I disagree with, they’re not True Scotsmen!’

You never clarified your group and you don’t make any exceptions on who you do consider ‘your side’. Considering the general way you referred to everything- You implied a general side.

Listen to me carefully

And. Who. I. Speak. For. Do. Not. Do. That.

Not me, not Psyga315, not rwde-rwby, not ironpines, not eight-of-penticles, not Adel Aka on Youtube, not us.

And yet I know at least two of those guys (Psyga315 and Eight-Of-Penticles) openly supported that shit. And Adel Aka CAUSED some of this.

Still ain’t buying it,

Well in my experience, RWDE hasn’t done that, and from my experience, there are just as many Stans of RWBY who have acted just as venomous as rabid shippers and those who side with RT seem silent about it. So it looks like we got dirt on both of us don’t we?

Considering I openly act as an individual and actively attack RWBY fans-

Nope, not really.

Also considering your personal experience means nothing outside an individual context-

You willing gave it up.

You could accept the fact that RWDE isn’t a hive mind and I won’t assume all RWBY fans are a hive-mind either.

But of course you sort seem to broaden the definition of “Threatening and Attacking the creators” to any form of dissent.

Too bad you don’t.

But you seem to have a VERY hard time to consider anyone’s experiences outside your own, don’t you?

I have actively disregarded my own experiences for objective fact- That means nothing to me.

If there is an alternate tag besides RWDE I can use so I don’t get lumped in with this mob could you tell me? Because I will happily do it.

claiming you’re speaking as an individual and then using plural pronouns and terms

Not what I said and you know it. Don’t use plural terms and pronouns and saying you speak for a group you do not define.

In fact, if labeling yourself automatically makes you something, could I label myself as a professional fantasy novelist? Because I would love to magically become one by just labeling myself as one.

Too bad that’s not how that label works.

Dude, I’ve seen you been actively hoping against a gay ship in RWBY in the past, and when RWBY shifted gears from Black Sun to Bumbleby, you threw monkey boy right under the buss and sided with the Bumblebee Fans because you need to defend RT so badly.

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/625914212492951552/im-not-a-homophobe-proceeds-to-pretend-bumblebee

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/625893206660464640/httpsroosterteethcomgpost5f0047a9-557b-42c0

What was that about assumptions again?

P.S. One of my followers hated me because they were a Bumbleby fan and I am THAT hated in their circles.

If that’s not sycophancy, I don’t know what it

You misspelled ‘consistency’.

In what way am I? Please quote me and dissect it, because just say-so isn’t gonna cut it.

Dude, I’ve seen you been actively hoping against a gay ship in RWBY in the past, and when RWBY shifted gears from Black Sun to Bumbleby, you threw monkey boy right under the buss and sided with the Bumblebee Fans because you need to defend RT so badly.

Make broad generalizations, never bring up evidence, never be specific as to make research hard, bring up a past event to sell to your audience-

How many SJWs have done this again?

Edit: Also deleting their blog and likely running away.

Because you decided RWDE was in league with the mob instead of discern them, you put all those in RWDE as bad, and those not in that tag as good and demand others to play by your rules.

That’s called and In-Group-Out-Group bias, or Us vs Them

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/626161036319473664/i-just-saw-a-thread-of-tweets-praising

You know, it shouldn’t be hard to make RWBY look worse than FMA. But like every example before hand, a RWBY critic manages to fuck up so badly they make RWBY look better afterwards. Which is I recommend they stop making comparisons- RWBY fans don’t need more bullshit to spread around with the critics shitting themselves and giving them ideas.

Yeah you make a real good example of that.

Also, you make this distinction between ‘RWDE’ and ‘the mob’ ... when the shit I have been listing have been said IN THE RWDE TAG. By popular members too.

Mary Mother of Jesus Christ, how many times I gotta tell you, the internet is a shitty place, we can call this shit out until the cows come home, they aren’t gonna stop.

The world is also a shitty place- That doesn’t mean we give up when people are being shitty. No excuse.

And you people are no different, Allow me to quote a YouTube commenter on Adel Aka’s video Monty’s Vision is irrelevant

“These people are trying to dismiss criticism my claiming they have the moral high ground. Most people won’t insult the work of a dead man and those that do will get shat on by the others who hold Monty as infallibly sacred. Its called a “Threat Narrative”. It works by reducing the: agency, willingness to harm and invulnerability of your side and do the reverse for the opposition. Watch as everyone rushes in to attack your opponent as if they are stomping on a puppy.”

Except that I don’t chew you people out through the moral high ground-

Almost always through factual fuck ups and hypocrisy.

Because they are using the SAME mythology of alienation, groupthink, and authoritarian bullying as they do, even though they hate to hear that. At best, they have command over composure and language, but it’s often used in a smarmy or condescending matter.

Sounds a lot like the RWDE tag (alienating the creators from positive feedback, attack anything that isn’t negative against RWBY and make it so the creators cannot do anything they don’t approve of).

I am speaking for the RWDE tag which is composed as individuals, because I am certain I am not the only one who feels this way, but of course you use the RWDE tag to ghettoize and marginalize us in your con-jobs to discredit us.

Group. Noun. “ a number of people or things that are located close together or are considered or classed together. “ Your talk of the RWDE tag falls under group.

But it’s not just feeling you use but numerous other things like assumed methods.

I don’t need to do any of that- Almost every single post of mine is structured around factual faults beyond any assumption of innocence or straight up hypocrisy, You do it to yourselves, like saying you speak for a specific group of people then a general group like the RWDE tag,

The people I have mentioned before and identified themselves with this tag have CALLED OUT that behavior

And yet you say you speak for the RWDE tag, a far BIGGER group than those people.

But you decide to affiliate us with them anyway because you want to discourage others from listening to us.

You say as the point of my reblog was to call out your inconsistency, nothing about your credibility with you making it about that. Especially since my posts usually tackle you guys on an INDIVIDUAL LEVEL.

Your not our boss, your not our father, your not the police. Quit acting like you are.

First Amendment pal

[berjhawn]

Angel On Fire - Ch. 3 - Fitting In

(*Gif not mine* Credit to the owner)

Warnings: Heartbreaks ; angst ; fluff ; fighting ; mentions of death ; slight Smut ; mentions of sex ; ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

Summary:  Heartbroken and Lost the reader finds herself stranded in a strange but familiar land filled with creatures of fantasy. joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield, (Name) travels across Middle Earth in search of a way to make it back to her home and the people that love her.

Master-list in Bio

A/N : Sorry this Chapter its over 4k words but I needed to fit it all in this chapter so yeah. Hope you enjoy! Please leave me a like and comment on how it’s going and what you think please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stare at the woods before us and I let out a frustrated sigh as I think to myself, ‘You never know how convenient cars are until you don’t have one.’ I glance ahead at the group of dwarves riding their ponies along like they were having no problems and I groan inwardly. Walking sucks. Running a hand through my hair I look at the leader of this small group and find myself wondering about him. I had learnt his name was Thorin, just as I had learned the names of all the other Dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. I had to admit their names were a little on the odd side but then again, they were probably normal for this world.

Thorin, the leader, was a bit on the pompous mysterious side. I could tell he didn’t exactly like the idea of bringing me along. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have been here either, but shit happened and here I was. Besides the arrogance, I could tell that his kin loved and trusted him. They would follow him to the ends of the earth without a second thought. I had to admit he intrigued me.

The rest of the dwarves, save for Dwalin, seemed to enjoy my company. They liked to ask me about my home and I would laugh at their stunned and confused expressions at things they didn’t understand. They were very kind men. Bilbo was very curious. He was even more curious about the thought that my world had billions of books and songs. He couldn’t believe there were that many people in my world.

Gandalf was strange, and I had met very strange people in my world, but he ranked at the top. It seemed like he had some kind of inclination about what had brought me here, but he wouldn’t say anything. It made me suspicious but there was nothing I could really do. I couldn’t read his mind. I didn’t have that kind of ability unfortunately.

Looking around at the scenery I am entranced by its beauty. This place might be different from what I was used to but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gorgeous. There was something magical about the landscape. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but this place felt right. Like I was right where I belonged. It was a rather strange situation. For now, I would have to shrug it off and soldier on.

The sudden howl a wolf sends the entire company into a panic as their eyes dart around trying to find the howls owner. “What’s going on?” I ask in confusion at their actions.

“Wargs.” Kili tells me making me cock and eyebrow at him in confusion.

“I don’t know what that is, is it bad?” I ask confusion filling my face and he nods.

“Very bad.” He replies, and I feel fear wash over me. If they were nervous then I should be the same. I look around but see no sight of whatever a Warg was.

“Keep your eyes open.” Thorin orders all of us to do as we slowly make our way further down the trail. I feel my heart start to race at the thought of an unknown assailant. What was a Warg? Why was the rest of my company terrified of it? Biting my lip, I slowly follow along with their cautious footsteps as we make our way forward down the road. Thankfully I didn’t find out just yet what a Warg was as we made it safely away from the howls.

Hours later, when we were safe in our camping spot, I find myself once again staring at Thorin. I didn’t know why but I could tell he was hiding something dark within his head. What plagued his brain? As if he felt my gaze, his eyes shifted toward mine and I quickly look away toward where Bombur was making dinner. Clearing my throat, I stand up and walking over ask him, “Would you like some help?”

“Bombur doesn’t really talk lass,” Bofur replies talking for his brother. “But I’m sure he’d like the company.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best company right now.” I say making Bofur look up at me.

“Why not?” He asks straightforwardly making me chuckle.

“I’m not really the type of girl that has a lot of friends, I don’t really socialize that much. I have two true friends but…” I pause as I think about Thor and Loki and how they must be worried sick about me; or did they even realize I was gone. I feel my heart clench at the thought. A little voice in the back of my head whispered dark things to me making me clench my jaw.

“You know, I bet they miss you.” Bofur says pulling me from my own darkness.

“You do?” I ask a slight chuckle leaving my lips.

“Aye lass, if they’re as good of friends as you say, they must be going insane trying to find you.”

“Knowing them… they probably are.” I add making him smirk. “Thank you, Bofur.”

“So, lass, are you hungry?” Bofur asks making me investigate the steaming cauldron. Although it was probably a delicacy for them my pampered stomach churned.

“No, thank you, Bofur; you guys only really have enough for your group. I’ll be fine.”

“You should eat.” I hear Thorin say from behind me causing me to jump slightly. “You’ll need your strength if you wish to keep up with us.”

“I’m not some frail flower, I’m stronger than I look; and I’ve gone without food before.”

“I won’t have you slowing us down. Eat the stew.” He orders, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“No.” I retaliate making a scowl fill his face as unbeknownst to me, the rest of the group had stopped what they were doing to stare at us.

“Fine,” He says shaking his head. “If you cannot keep up, we will leave you behind.”

“Fine.” I conclude moving from them to stand beside Gandalf.

“You seem to have a way with our leader.” He says not taking his eyes off his pipe making me look at him in confusion. “I find it curious as to why you wish to argue with him.”

“I don’t want to argue with him, I just… he reminds me of someone, and it irritates me.” I pause memories filling my head making me furrow my brow.

“Someone you’d rather forget?” He asks, and I instantly shake my head.

“No, I wouldn’t wish to forget anyone. No matter what they have done to me. Their deeds have helped make me who I am.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Because even though they have made me who I am, their actions still hurt.” I answer making him nod.

“You are wiser than I initially believed.” He says as he lights his pipe.

“Not really wise, jut smart to the ways of the world.” I clarify leaning against the rocky cliffside. I stare up at the starry night sky and smile. The night sky always reminded me of Thor and Loki. Were they looking for me? Would they be able to find me? Would I be able to go home with them? I let out a heavy sigh as tears sting my eyes threatening to fall.

“Please excuse me, I need to see to something.” Gandalf says as he leaves the group and walks off into the night.

“What are you thinking about?” I hear a voice ask and I turn to see Bilbo sitting a few feet away from me his eyes focused on me.

“I’m just thinking of my home and the people I left behind.” I answer honestly making him nod.

“What was your home like?” He asks, and I chuckle.

“So much different than here.” I reply moving to sit beside him. “I would tell you about it, but I fear it would be too much to understand and I doubt you would truly believe me.”

“Are there dwarves where you are from?” Kili asks and I nod as I turn to meet his gaze.

“There are. Although they are a bit different from you all.” I answer making Kili smile.

“What do you do where you’re from?” Fili asks, and I bite my lip as I think about how to answer. I didn’t really know these men and my past experiences with telling people what I am hasn’t always turned out the best. I decide to give them a piece of the puzzle but not the whole thing.

“I, along with a group of people go around the world helping those in need.” I answer making most of them nod while the rest still look confused. “I have medical training, combat training-”

“Combat… then you know how to fight.” Dwalin asks and I nod.

“I’ve been fighting since I was young. I’m sure I’ll fight more before I die.”

“Does that mean you know how to use a sword?” Balin asks and I shudder.

“Honestly, my friend tried to teach me once, but I found the Asgardian swords a little heavy and difficult to move with. Now hand me a gun or some throwing knives and that’s a different story.”

“What’s a gun?” Ori asks making me glance over at the young dwarf.

“I take it you do not have those here?” I ask, and they shake their heads. “Of course. Well they are a little hard to explain. Let’s just say they are very deadly.” I glance from them toward Thorin who was looking out over dark terrain and find myself focused on him. The moonlight reflecting off his raven hair made him look almost ethereal.

“Fili, Kili, aren’t you supposed to be guarding the ponies?” I hear Dwalin say and after some groans about wanting to know more about my world, the brothers file off into the woods. “We’ll send your soup when it’s done.” I feel someone touch my arm and I turn to see Bofur handing me a piece of bread.

“Bofur I can’t accept that; your group needs it more.” I politely refuse making him smirk.

“We’ve got more than enough stew lass, enjoy the bread.” He says gently setting it on my lap and walking away without giving me a chance not to accept it. I let out a sigh as I give up fighting him. A smile fills my cheeks as I tear apart a piece of bread and place it on my tongue. Granted it was a little stale, but it was better than nothing.

“Bofur,” I call making him turn toward me. “Thank you.” He just smiles in return making me chuckle to myself. My hungry stomach welcomes the bread as I quickly wolf it down. I glance at the fire for a moment thankful that I had somehow ended up in the path of such great dwarves when Fili running into camp catches my attention.

“Trolls took some of the ponies. Bilbo went to get them back. Kili’s watching him.” Fili says making me jump to my feet.

“We have to help them. (Name), Stay in the camp.” Thorin yells as the group grabs their weapons and heads off into the woods leaving me behind. I stare the way they had gone unsure of what I was to do. Biting my lip, I go against my gut and run after them. I had no idea what I was going to do but if I could help in some way, I would. When I reached them, they were all fighting side by side against what I guessed was three massive trolls. I stare in shock for only a moment before they all freeze, and my attention is drawn to two of the trolls who have Bilbo strung up in their hands like they were about to quarter him.

I stare wide eyed at them. I had seen some weird shit as an avenger, but this was different. Middle Earth was a mysterious place and I instantly found myself wanting to see more. I hide in the woods as the trolls place them all in sacks. I contemplate rushing out and helping them, but I didn’t know how that would pan out. I let out a heavy sigh as I reach up and rub my forehead. I could help them with one of my little gifts but if I did that they might see.

Back in my world Mutants weren’t really accepted, especially one like me; would here be different? I let out a sigh as I turn back toward them and placing my hand on the ground feel the earth answer my call. It rumbles beneath my fingertips causing a smile to fill my lips. My powers still worked here. Taking a deep breath, I send out vines toward the trolls. I hear one troll scream as a vine wraps itself around his ankle making him jump around and frighten the rest of the trolls.

“What’s wrong with you?!” One roars as he looks back to where his brother had just been.

“There’s somethin’ tryin’ ta grab me!” He roars, and I smirk as I calm the vines. The other trolls look around them but see nothing.

“You’re seeing things.” Another replies as he hits the scared one with a ladle over the head. I cock an eyebrow as Bilbo stands up and starts saying something drawing their attention.

“What are you doing Bilbo?” I ask barely above a whisper before I catch the sight of something moving out of the corner of my eye. Before I have a chance to do anything else, Gandalf appears yelling out, “The Dawn will take you all!” I watch as he brings his staff down against the rock making it split in half. Light spills through the broken stone causing the Trolls to scream out in agony as they slowly start to turn to stone. I stare in shock as I think to myself, “Okay… that just happened.”

Sensing that it was safe to come out I stand up and slowly walk out towards them. Bilbo catches a glimpse of me and smiles as he says, “It’s good they didn’t get you too (Name).”

“Yeah…” I drag out as I close the distance between the trolls and myself. As I reach them, I cautiously reach out to touch them as if to make sure they were in fact real.

“Have you never seen Trolls before (Name)?” Bofur asks and I shake my head.

“This is a first.” I say honestly a chuckle escaping my lips.

“I’m surprised at you.” Thorin says making cock an eyebrow at him. “You did as I said and stayed in camp.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I don’t know a thing about trolls, so, I figured, you know, stay in the campsite.” I ramble making me mentally kick myself.

“Right, well, I’m glad you’re safe.” Gandalf interjects making me let out a sigh of relief.

Biting my lip, I turn from them and my attention goes back to the trolls. How many trolls were in this world and would we meet more along the way? I let out a heavy sigh when Thorin calls us all to look for a cave. I follow behind Fili and Kili as we make our way through the wood only to be called back as Thorin calls out that he has found it. Following his call, we are suddenly hit with a foul smell and I gag.

“You alright?” I hear Fili ask and I nod.

“I’ll be okay, it just stinks.” I answer pulling my shirt over my nose and follow him inside the cave. There were bones littering the ground. The Company finds piles of gold coins and other treasures in caskets. Fili approaches the coins scattered about the ground and says, “Seems a shame to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it.”

“Agreed. Oin, get a shovel.” Gloin says making me chuckle. I look over to Thorin who has made his way over to what looks like a weapons rack and I slowly walk up behind him. Thorin inspects two swords covered in cobwebs. I glance from the swords in his hands to the ones remaining in the rack. Reaching out I pick one up and cock an eyebrow at how light it is. As I pull it form its sheath, I stare in awe at the beautiful craftsmanship. Even though I had been to Asgard many a time I had never seen a blade of this caliber.

I turn to Thorin and smiling ask, “Can I keep this?” He smirks making butterflies fill my stomach.

“Of course, you can, they would just go to waste here.” He replies, and I feel my heart lift in my chest. Turning from me he hands one to Gandalf, unsheathing them. He looks in wonder at the steel. As he continues, “These were not made by any troll.”

“Nor were they made by any smith among men.” Gandalf looks closer at the markings on the blade. “These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age.” Thorin begins to put the sword away in disgust which makes me look at him in confusion but Gandalf glares over at him. “You could not wish for a finer blade!” Reluctantly, Thorin unsheathes the sword, holding it high above him.

“It’s beautiful.” I hear myself say as he admires the workmanship. I watch as he sheathes his sword and then ties it to his waist. I pause for a minute before I realize that I had no way to carry my own new sword. “Um Thorin,” I start making him glance up at me. “How do I tie this around my waist?” He pauses for a moment before he looks around for some sort of leather strap. To my dismay he pulls one off a pile of bones and then taking my sword from me places it on the strap.

“What hand do you use?” He asks, and I instantly hold up my right. “Then you’ll want it on your left hip.”

“I get that part, but won’t it just keep sliding down?” I ask pointing at my hips.

“Well what are these?” He asks pulling at the belt loop of my jeans.

“Belt loops.” I answer as it hits me. I slowly start to slip the leather strap through my belt loops until I am left with two ends of the straps.

“Here,” He says taking the straps from me and pulling them tight ties them together. “Now see if it moves around too much.” He says and I instantly squat down. The sword stays by my side but doesn’t touch the ground. I smile as I stand back up. “How does it feel?”

“Perfect, thank you. Now maybe I can help defend myself a little better.” I answer smiling at him. He nods and turns away from me but not before I see a smirk fill his lips. So, he could smile. I stare off after him for a moment before he hollers, “Come! Let's get out of this foul place.”

The dwarves file behind Thorin, leaving the cave. Gandalf makes to follow them, when his foot hits against something metallic. I pause beside him as he uses the edge of his staff to brush away some leaves. A small sword, wrapped neatly in its sheath, lies in the dirt below. Reaching down, I pick it up and handing it to him say, “Isn’t this about Bilbo’s size?”

“What a good idea.” He says taking the blade from me and heading toward the mouth of the cave where the dwarves are tending to their horses. Gandalf and I emerge from the troll hoard and approach Bilbo. “Bilbo, here. This is about your size.” Gandalf hands it to Bilbo. He looks at the weapon, hesitant.

“I can't take this.”

“The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.” Gandalf clarifies, and I raise an eyebrow as I think to myself how convenient that was.

“I have never used a sword in my life.” Bilbo says.

“And I hope you'll never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” Gandalf says, and I find myself thinking back to when I was training with Loki and Thor. Suddenly, loud rustling comes from deep within the forest.

“Something's coming!” Thorin yells and I find myself being pulled into the group of dwarves as they surround me in protection. Gandalf withdraws his sword, running to the dwarves.

“Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves.” Gandalf hollers as Bilbo lingers behind. Slowly, he draws out the sword, looking in wonder at the weapon's power. He turns and runs to join the others. Riding at full speed through the trees, is a man led by a Rabbit-Drawn Sled. He bursts through the woods, startling us all.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” He yells out as he draws to a halt. The dwarves all have their weapons withdrawn. They look to Gandalf for an explanation of this odd sight.

“Radagast! It's Radagast the Brown.” Gandalf walks towards his fellow wizard. He seems glad about this new arrival. “Give us a few moments please.” Gandalf asks as he and Radagast go off several paces from the dwarves. I turn from where they are talking and back to the dwarves as I ask, “Who’s Radagast the Brown?”

“He’s a wizard, like Gandalf.” Bofur answers making me nod.

“How many wizards are there?” I ask making Bilbo answer.

“Gandalf said there are five. Let’s see there’s Gandalf, Radagast, Saruman the white, and then there are two blue ones.”

“So, wizards have colors in their names?” I ask, and they nod. “What color is Gandalf?”

“He’s grey.”

“Good to know.” I add nodding my head.

From the distance, wolves howl again, and the dwarves perk up in alarm. From behind a nearby crag, a Warg appears. It leaps into the midst of the Company, savage and ferocious. I let out a slight scream as I am knocked off my feet. Thorin buries his sword into its neck, killing it instantly. Another charges from behind. Kili draws an arrow, shooting down the beast. It attempts to pick itself back up, but Dwalin brings his hammer down upon it. The Warg dies with a whimper.

“Warg scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.” Thorin clarifies as Bofur helps me to my feet.

“Orc pack?” Bilbo and I ask in unison.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin.” Gandalf inquires from Thorin as he moves to stand next to him.

“No one.” He replies making Gandalf repeat himself.

“Who did you tell?”

“No one, I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?”

“You are being hunted!”

“Hunted?” I ask making goosebumps cover my skin.

“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin says and I nod. Gloin appears from the crest of the hill as he calls out, “We can't! We have no ponies, they've bolted!”

“I'll draw them off.” Radagast offers making Gandalf shake his head.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” Radagast says as he points to his rabbits. “I'd like to see them try.” He climbs upon his rabbit led sleigh and as he heads off into the woods I stare after him for a moment before someone grabs my arm and pulls me along. I glance back to see Bofur motioning for me to follow closely to them all.

Pulling me through the trees I see Radagast being chased by what looked like giant wolves with dark riders upon their backs. Gandalf watches from behind a large boulder. Radagast and the pursuing orcs disappear into the distance. “Come on.” Gandalf says as he runs forward, the rest of us trailing behind him. As the chase with Radagast continues in the distance, our group continues to weave in and out of the rocks, led by Thorin and Gandalf. Suddenly, Thorin stops in his tracks. Radagast and the orcs run past us, too close for comfort. Gandalf looks to us as he says, “Stay together.”

As the chase continues, Thorin stops behind a rock so that he is not seen by the Wargs. Ori starts to run out of the cover. “Ori, no! Come back!” Thorin yells and I grab him pulling him back behind cover.

“Come on! Quick!” Gandalf whisper yells and as the dwarves continue running, Thorin turns to Gandalf and says, “Where are you leading us?” Gandalf doesn’t answer.

As the Warg scouts chase Radagast, one of them stops and scents the air. The dwarves take cover behind an outcropping of rock. The scout and his Warg appear on top of the outcropping, scenting the air. Thorin looks at Kili and nods; readying an arrow, Kili quickly steps out and shoots the Warg.

The Warg and the Orc on it fall near the dwarves, and the dwarves kill them. The sounds of their fight carry quite far; the other Wargs and Orcs stop chasing Radagast as they hear roars and screams from behind the rocks. The Warg scouts howl as they stop pursuing Radagast and begin pursuing the Company.

“Move. Run!” Gandalf yells causing us to run through a grassy plain; Wargs begin to surround us from all sides. “This way! Quickly!” Gandalf yells again and I feel Thorin push me ahead of him as he keeps me ahead of him.  We run for a while longer, then halt in a clearing as we see Wargs on all sides.

“There’s more coming!” Kili yells and my body fills with fear. Should I use my powers? I ask myself as I watch Kili fire arrows into the orcs and Wargs.

“We’re surrounded!” Fili yells and I grit my teeth as I start to have an internal conflict with myself.

“Where is Gandalf?” I hear Kili say and I momentarily turn from the Orcs to see that he is nowhere to be found.

“He has abandoned us!” Dwalin yells as he ready’s his axe. The dwarves gather close to each other near the rock Gandalf disappeared by. As an Orc and his Warg approach, Ori shoots a rock at him with his slingshot, to no effect. Thorin pulls out his sword.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin yells before suddenly Gandalf pops up from a crack in the rock and yells, “This way, you fools!”

“Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go, go!” Thorin yells as he shoves me into the crack before he ushers his kin into the cave one by one. As the Wargs approach, the dwarves and Bilbo slide into the large crack in the rock, sliding into a cave. All the sudden I hear Thorin yell, “Kili! Run!” and I find my heart clench in my chest as I start to worry for his safety.

Suddenly Thorin and Kili jump into the crack last. Just as the lead Orc and his Wargs reach the crack, a horn sounds making me cock an eyebrow in confusion. I look around at the rest of my companions as they listen to the conflict from inside the crack. One of the orcs, shot by an arrow, falls into the cave. Thorin plucks out the arrow and examines its make.

“Elves.” Thorin says anger in his voice. There is a pathway at the end of the cave, leading away.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin asks and Bofur quickly replies, “Follow it, of course!” I stare at the orc in front of us and I find my stomach starting to churn. It was hideous to look at. A million questions start to fill my head but before I have a chance to ask them, I hear Gandalf say, “I think that would be wise.”

Will Continue...

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[shes-claws-deep]

Vergil - Of Dates and Dating Advice

Thank you sanguia for your commission! Please enjoy this 1500 word fic of Vergil scoring his first date with Reader! And what comes next, of course~

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To say that Dante was shocked by Vergil's question would be the understatement of the century. He thought it was a figment of his imagination, a mirage brought on by the madness of infinite enemies pouring out of the ground for what seemed like an eternity. Vergil looks put upon to repeat himself, but repeat himself he does, averting his gaze and turning to slash apart another demon.

"How do you ask a woman out on a date?"

Between surprised guffaws and hysterical laughter, Dante delivers his advice with panache. Demonstrating on an unfortunate Hell Caina, he lands several pick up lines that range from the stupid to the impossible to the downright sultry. Of course, the demon barely responds, in fact looking rather glad to be cut down along with the rest of its more fortunate kin. Vergil surmises that would be the reaction of the woman he intends to court should he try them. Once he runs out of ideas, Dante smashes the last demon into the ground and turns to his brother with an exasperated expression.

"Look, just grow a pair and ask her point blank." Dante gestures with his blade. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He could get rejected, that's what, Vergil hisses back with an uncharacteristic flush on his face. While not one to normally bother about being turned down by the object of his affections, he didn't normally have the stakes of 'this is a person I genuinely don't want to push away'. When faced with that, any stone cold man with a pair of steel balls would be daunted.

Well, he has time to consider his options, Dante rolls his eyes and crosses blades with his brother once more. After all, they're not getting out of here anytime soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, the brothers make their way back to the surface, covered in demon guts and their own filth. It is then that Vergil sees you, sees your relieved expression and hears your voice, and removes that filter between his brain and his mouth.

"Would you like to go out for dinner?"

Immediately, Vergil covers his blush with his hand, completely unaware that the grime on his face conceals his embarrassed expression. Almost as quickly, however, his hand drops and his eyes go wide as you agree with a grin on your face, a smile blooming on his when you ask him when and where he wants to go. He ignores Dante as the red-clad hunter wolf-whistles at them, electing to kick his brother away when Dante wanders closer to hear what he has to say.

Vergil admits there's really nowhere to go this late at night, no place left intact in Red Grave City, and the only place that 'serves' food is the leftovers from whatever food the girls ordered back at Dante's place. Given that it was such a last minute request, you wave aside his worries and invite him over to yours; why eat out when you can eat in?

It's a testament to Dante's raunchy suggestions that a dirty quip pops into his mind. That aside, however, Vergil gratefully accepts and falls into step beside you, his stride quickening when you offer the use of your shower. Holy shit, a shower, he hasn't seen that in an age. More than the -crush-, um, the attraction that he has to you, the thought of using your shower has him wanting to kiss you silly.

Somewhere deep inside him, he feels bad for making you make dinner on your own while he cleans up, even saying so himself in what he thought was a concerned tone of voice. Unfortunately for him, it comes out a little tired and you grin at him, pushing him towards the shower while waving a hand over your nose. You'd rather the food not get contaminated with the amount of demon guts on him, you insist, pointing him towards the bathroom while you gather a clean towel and some loose clothes.

When Vergil eyes them suspiciously, you laugh and shake your head. They're your sleeping clothes and they definitely do not belong to any man. You just so happen to really like loose clothing that just so happens to fit him, that's all. Of course, that's when the image of you wearing some of his shirts pops into his mind. Ignoring the cock twitching in his pants, Vergil gratefully accepts them and jumps into the shower, subtly sniffing at your body wash and your shampoo. Sakura blossoms and milk...an odd mix, but one that's rather pleasing to the nose. He pushes aside the thought that he'll be smelling of you for a while, ignores the voice in his head that tells him this is what it'd be like to share a house, to share a shower, and cleanses himself thoroughly. While also smelling your conditioner. Hey! He can't help it if you pick the best scents.

As he puts on your clothes, they fit him just like he thought - just right. It's honestly the most comfortable he's been in a long time. Finally feeling clean and well groomed, Vergil comes out and finds you still in the midst of prepping a simple stew. Turns out that he's faster than he thought he was. No matter. Even if he's clean, he rolls up his metaphorical sleeves and comes up next to you, quietly asking what he can do to help you.

On your end, you almost slice your own hand with the knife when he pops out of nowhere to hover by your shoulder. You turn around, just about ready to tell him to sit down and relax, but stop yourself when you see how delicious he looks in your clothes. The Elevator Stare comes out in full force and you spend an entire minute just looking him over, admiring how his muscles stretch the fabric, how content he looks even when he's frowning down at you. He comes out, towel around his shoulders, combing his hand through his damp hair, and looking like a snack, and expects you not to ogle him? You tell him as much in a blunt manner, giggling to yourself when he has to turn his face away and blush like a schoolboy. Maybe he doesn't get as many compliments as he should, but really. Really. He looks like a snacc. With two Cs.

So, of course, you take his offer of help and watch him wield your chef's knife masterfully, those forearms working and slicing ingredients so easily that it actually looks sensual. You offhandedly compliment his technique, brushing your hand over his back as you edge around him to reach your fridge. You can feel him tense under your touch but he doesn't move away; on the contrary, he looks towards you and stays in place, making you press up against his back on your way to the stove again. Cheeky boy.

Cooking dinner and eating it goes by in a flash, with Vergil eating up your attention with a small smile on his face and a welcoming posture. After a while, you understand why he lets you be the one to flirt instead of him; he tried to touch your leg while you put on a movie and made you jump, something that startles both him and you. Enough that he retreats and puts his hand back on his lap sheepishly, his eyes locked on the screen instead of your face. After that, he didn't try to touch you again, his posture tensing up, though he does remain friendly when you ask him questions.

Well, you can't have that. Not when you finally have him right where you want him. And you're sure he wants it too; the way he keeps glancing at your hand on the sofa between you, the way he blushes when you stretch and reveal an expanse of bare leg, the way his breath hitches when you kneel on the sofa to grab something behind you. Besides, Vergil's not one to stick around when he doesn't want to. All these combined with his sudden shyness makes you only want him more. With that in mind, you ask him point blank, "Are you okay with me flirting with you? Like physical flirting?"

Vergil's face burns brightly in the dimly lit room. "What did you just say?"

You roll your eyes and crawl into his lap sideways, pressing your thigh against his rousing cock. "Are you okay with this? If I were to get handsy?" To demonstrate further, you trail a fingertip over his cheek, feather-like, and feel his breath rattle in his great chest. "If I were to keep on touching you and teasing you?"

Vergil's arms creep up behind you. "I...would not be opposed." He's held transfixed by your eyes as you lean in closer, closer, closer until he can feel your breath on his lips.

"Then I want to do something. Let me know when to stop, alright?" You don't give him a moment to argue as you stand up and tug him up alongside you, one arm snaking around his shoulders and the other around his waist as you spin and dip him down, pressing a kiss to his lips at the same time.

Vergil yelps and clings to you, his body tensing at the sudden shift in gravity. But he relaxes some when he feels your lips on his, choosing to focus on that instead of the fact that you're suspending him above the ground. Shit, and he thought you were strong before.

Not one to end it just there, you pull him back upright and sweep him off his feet. Literally. You gather him up into your arms in a bridal carry and sweep him off into your room without breaking your lip lock. Impressive, if you do say so yourself. Vergil seems to agree if his hands in your hair are any indication. Although he does try to show off his strength when you toss him onto the bed, his hands reaching for your clothes and trying to pull you on top of him.

You aren't having it, not when you're drunk off the fact that he's letting you have your way with him. It's intoxicating - having this impossibly powerful man decide that he's too awkward to try and flirt with you the way most men would try, to decide that maybe he shouldn't try to think about how to seduce you and that he should let himself be the seduced instead. Riding on that high, you roll onto your back and pull his head down to your thighs, all the while shimmying your shorts and underwear off with his help.

Vergil, too, is feeling that drunkenness of your power, following your lead almost mindlessly as you lift your legs and hook them over his shoulders to bring him in close. Obliging your insistent hands on his head, he dives between your legs and feasts like a king. Slurping, sucking, licking, devouring you with such hunger and delight that you can't hold back your cries. In the back of his mind, Vergil wonders why he didn't do this earlier; wonders why he didn't try to court you earlier, wonders why he never asked to live between your legs, why he never thought to seek the ambrosia leaking from your most intimate place. Now though, now he swears to never go a day without tasting you. He's so serious about it that he actually says it out loud without a blush, his mind focused on drinking up the slick that pours out of you at his declaration.

You grin and agree with him, pulling him close and closing your thighs around his head as he makes you cum. What a great start to the night, if you do say so himself.

The next morning brings about a sense of contentedness. For you and for Vergil. You because you're sore in all the right places and cuddled closely to his side. Him because he wakes up next to you, sees your face and feels your affection first thing in the morning. Vergil takes one look at your sleep soft body, at your squirming as you stretch, and decides to make good on his promise the night before, slowly slinking beneath the covers until he hears the doorbell go.

Pressing him back into the covers, you elect to answer it after you've thrown on the shirt he discarded last night. At the door is Dante in full hunting regalia looking for his brother. He tries to peer over your shoulder into your living room, as though expecting to find clothes strewn all over the floor and a well-fucked Vergil on the sofa. Even says it aloud, much to your consternation and Vergil's exasperation in your bed. You shake your head and push Dante away, smirking and telling him that Vergil will find him when he wants to find him.

While generally as bull-headed as the rest of them, Dante knows when to take a hint. He backs away with his hands in the air, though he takes a moment to smirk when he spots his brother's bedraggled self in your bedroom doorway. "Damn girl, you messed him up good!"

A slam of the door answers him. You laugh at his affronted gasp, then turn and snicker at Vergil's disgusted expression. Sidling up close, you push your lover back into the bedroom and toss him his phone. Best he text his brother to know that his 'messing up' was mutual. The nasty grin that spreads across Vergil's handsome face is one that you'll cherish forever. Well, that and the way he throws his phone aside to plant his face between your legs again.

[tushieblurbs]

Title: Nightcrawler

Description: The difference between predators born in the day and those of night are worlds apart.

In this world, there are many kinds of hunters. Predators. Bringers of death. They take many forms, with incredibly varied appearances between them. Some small, some large, some fleshy, some made of chitin. But what unites all of them, is their instincts. The desire to hunt, to catch Prey, to corner that fleeing thing they prey upon and finally sink their desire into them.

What separates these many fierce and devilish hunters from each other, is simple as night and day.

Predators born of day need only worry about physical fitness. Perhaps the ability to blend in and easily elude prey, but otherwise they can adapt to become the top of the foodchain by simply being the most physically fit for their habitat.

Predators born within the confines of the dark, however... This specific breed of hunter excels in the craftiness they must employ to gain the upperhand on the prey item. They must be intelligent, resourceful, and be well equipped to strike when the time is most opportune. They lack the strength, the sheer physical fitness of their kin. But what they lack in raw strength, they surely make up for in ability to excel at being incredibly unique in their unconventional hunting methods.

This is one such nighttime breed of hunter. One with very specific and special tastes...

--

3:00AM. Typically a time where most would be sleeping soundly in bed. Tucked away with the pleasant idea that they are safe and secure within the confines of their nest. 

For this specific house, this is not the case. For as soon as everybody has gone to dreamland, the Predators shall stalk.

Jolting awake, the unfortunate target of this Predator stares up at the ceiling, unmoving and only able to barely move her head around enough in her sleeping position to survey the dimly moonlit room around her. The window in-front of her bed is wide open, allowing a soft breeze and gentle hues of the celestial body above to illuminate the otherwise dark bedroom.

Sadly for her, she is able to get a clear view of the end of her bed. With her making out the ever slightest hint of black, pointy claw tips slowly coming into view from behind the circular bed frame in front of her socked feet. She tries to move, to make the first aggressive act towards this very familiar sight, but sadly her body refuses to cooperate with her. She feels heavy, but all too awake.

Those tips soon elongate further. And further. Until they carefully and gently wrap themselves around the cutesy circle frame of the bed. She tries to struggle again, but no dice. 

It’s 3:08AM now.

A sly and sadistic chuckle is released from the direction of the claw, and soon another claw repeats the same motions as before. Feeling a mixture of anxiety and anger, the awake yet frozen stiff Bear attempts to desperately wake her body from whatever spell it is currently under. 

“Oh, no, no, noooooo!” From behind the bed frame in front of her, a voice oozing with malice and mockery of concern is heard. “Are you okay? Are you afraid? I can smell the anticipation on you already!” Another smug chuckle is released by the voice. The Bear however, is familiar of the owner of this voice. In fact, she had fucking dealt with him all week. 

The black clawtips, barely visible within the moonlight, dig into the wood of the bed frame. Taking it’s sweet, delicate time to let the razor sharp fingers gash the wood with an childish enthusiasm. Before long, the claws release the tension, and grip it again as the owner of the claws launches themselves up into full view, using the bed frame as a brace for their sudden movement.

The owner of said claws of course, was Orias. The local shiteating grin of a bastard within this neck of the woods. He smiled at the glaring gaze from the comatose Bear with what could best described as sincerity and prickishness.

“What do we have here...?” He asks allowed, reaching a long slender arm forward to gently run a claw up and down one of the frozen Bear’s thighs. While she is entirely unable to move in these situations, her ability to feel or sense is not halted in the slightest--In fact, it feels in many ways amplified due to the Succubus’s magickal aura. “My, my, my...” He hisses, eyeing the way his claw indents on her pleasantly soft thigh. “Is this a Princess I’ve come across? She seems to be fast asleep no less...! Any sort of danger could befall such a maiden!”

Pulling away from her, he places both of claws on his face in mock surprise, his toothy mouth agape in mock surprise. 

“And me, a most certainly devilishly handsome creature of the night! The only one able to protect her defenseless self!” 

The mocking look of surprise gives away fast to a look of pure sadistic glee, as his tongue bleps outside of his pale lips in a manner far too cutesy for such a bastard. Tasting the air softly as he mirthfully looked down at her still glaring face. He was fully aware she was aware, and awake, and absolutely willing to clock his shit in if given the chance, but that didn’t matter right now, did it? Night time is his time. He was a Predator, and he found his Favorite little Prey just ripe for the taking. For a fox to pass up an open chicken coop is just outside of it’s control. 

Raising both of his claws into the air, arms outstretched wide as his feathery coat hung loosely, his silhouette becomes clearly and threateningly defined due to the moonlight from the wide open window behind him. The Bear shudders a bit as she makes full contact with his glowing red eyes for the first time since he fully revealed himself, the mixture of hunger and lust becoming readily apparent on his normally assholish face.

He brings both of his claws down, climbing up onto the bed with a grace and gentleness that almost would cause any normally fast asleep patron to shift in the covers due to potentially feeling a gust of wind. But this elegance and swiftness is Orias’s most powerful skill; Within moments, his claws are running along both of her frozen thighs, with his steady hissing mixing with the light caressing of his tail as he sneered down at her now flustering and lightly disgusted face.

“Too bad no one can protect you from me, My Princess.” He whispers, gripping her thigh tightly. “No one will ever keep you from my grasp, my touch, nor getting to love you in ways only I’ll ever be able to provide~” While the poor Bear is unable to do much beyond stare at him in the face, she expresses an steadily increasing look of distress and redness as she feels him use his tail to gently lift up her oversized shirt--His two black claws still all too busy with getting to properly get a handful of her squishy thighs.

With her shirt now pulled up enough to expose her tummy area, he looks up at her distressed face, and gently kisses it once--Smirking as his lips press up against it, the look on her face as he does so doing far more for him than she’d ever like to know. He pulls back from the kiss, to now let out a breathy huff which collides with her tummy as he digs each one of his bladed claws into her thighs at once. This causes the Bear to squirm lightly, but he does it so fast and quickly she once again returns to her formally still state.

He has to be careful, as too much pain will cause her to be broken free of his spell. See, as he can stimulate the body as much as he wants, but if he were to inflict too much harm his spell would fade away incredibly fast. As such, he must keep a handle on the urge to harm her... With that being said, Marking her thighs for the other demons to see the next day fills him with delight. He gets a genuine kick out of the others having to know He got to her last night. 

But that was for the future. Right now, in the present, he has better goals. He presses his pale lips against her stomach once more, dragging both of his claws up and down her thighs once more as the light trickles of blood and smearing cover them lightly. He mostly did this to be a prick to be frank.  Pulling back from the kiss, he rests his face on her tummy and looks up at her with a semi cutesy wink. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~” He coos, blepping again as he reaches one lightly crimson soaked claw up to poke her on the nose. It leaves a light drop of blood on it as he does. “You look so angry right now... It’s really cute, y’know? I love when you look like you wanna hurt, but can’t.” A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and sits up, this time staring down at her once more with a few droplets of drool forming in the corner of his mouth.

“It makes me just wanna... Eat you up, y’know? It makes me wanna bite you and bite you, and bite you until there’s nothing left~~~! Look at what you do to me!” Orias shifts positions a bit, letting his coat fall back onto the bed’s front frame as he leans forward once more. This time, he traces a single claw up and down her belly... Until the tip of said claw, gently hinges on her panties. 

“I’m not so bad, Here, Let me show you how good I can be...” His voice is full of venom and pure lust, mixing together to make a light hiss that sounds all too similar to a snake rather than a person. “My dearest little Bear, I’ll eat you until there’s nothing left, won’t that be swell?” While she’s unable to move, she would be furiously shaking her head in disagreement if she could. Too bad she can’t! He gently pulls down her panties bit by bit, eating up the sight of her panicking face as he does do. It doesn’t take him long to get them off, but he slides them off with ease. It’s quite easy to undress someone that can’t move, y’know?

He spreads her legs just a bit, just enough so that he can expose everything she’d wouldn’t want to be exposed--Ah, quite wet already it appears. He licks his lips at that, so feisty yet she’s sitting here getting this wet? Mara would never understand, it isn’t his fault she gets so worked up that he HAS to do these things. 

She’d thank him later. Even if she’d never admit it.

Getting into position, he hovers his face just a few inches above her pussy, gripping her thighs tightly as he looks up at her from between her legs. His warm, hungry breath causing her to shiver as she felt him get a LITTLE closer than she’d like. Which then causes her breath to explode out of her mouth as she feels the first lick from him--She hadn’t noticed it at first, but the Succubus must have activated his more... Stimulation focused abilities to increase the intensity of the arousal and following stimulation, making each following lick cause her frozen spine to vaguely return to full function with every lick of his.

He’s surprisingly gentle during--His glowing red eyes only staring foggily up at her as he licks away steadily. Her own breathing picks up, growing heavier as she stares down as Orias swapping between long, drawn out licks that she desperately wants to go faster, and quick hungry ones that make it feel like he’s just trying to get her to finish fast as possible. Every now and again he lets go of one of her thighs, and slides a claw in carefully. He has to be most gentle doing this, as a single wrong move could most certainly do harm.

But he’s a Succubus. And he excels most in ensuring he’ll do no harm during these things. After all, pleasure is king. Or perhaps Queen, in this instance.

During the peak of it, he pulls back, breathing heavily on her as he speaks;

“Look at you, you’re a mess right now. And yet you were angry with me?”

“You’re going to cum any second now, aren’t you? Oh you mortals are so hilarious. You hate me yet can’t get enough of me when I indulge you.”

“Isn’t it easier to give in? Doesn’t it feel good? When will you become mine and let me do this to you all the time?”

His degradation and bitchiness hardly phase the poor Bear however, as she’s far too busy covering her face at trying to ignore the pleasure shooting throughout her body. Perhaps he was right, maybe he was wrong. none of that mattered right now. Since she wanted to fucking cum and his stupid voice was getting in the way of that.

“S-Sh... S-Shut.. Up...” She croaks out, refusing to look at him and give him the satisfaction. “J-J-Just... Keep... G-Going...”

Though she doesn’t care to check, she can only imagine he gets that same malice filled smirk on his face. And just as quickly, the pleasure comes back in ways as the long, drawn out, heavy licks come back. Her brain feels like it’s melting to a degree, or perhaps that was from the Estrus wave burning her poor little Bear braincells. Either way, it was a melting pot!

She gets what she wanted, at 3:29AM. After what feels like an eternity, her body can take more, and during a series of incredibly passionate licks, a series of splashes hits Orias’s mouth--A long groan escaping his mouth as it does. He keeps licking even as she breathlessly moans into the ceiling above, refusing to look down at the Succubus. 

A few silent moments follow, with her heart pounding in her chest and his heavy breathing being the only noise filling the room. He sits up, and the sound of pants unbuckling soon follow. She’s too busy being caught up with the post-orgasm brainmelt, but Orias is far from sated. Predators live for the moment their Prey is most vulnerable.

She’s woken up rudely from her haze as she feels the distinct sensation of light penetration--Her eyes shoot down between her legs again, to see him gently rubbing the head of his dick against her pussy. He’s staring up at her, drool oozing down his chin as he does so. The look on his face is much more different, much more... Animalistic. Primal. He wanted more, and he was gonna get it whether she was prepared for his onslaught or not.

“You mortals really are the best~” He says, using one claw to gently keep his dick rubbing while he reached another under her shirt to get a few good gropes of her breasts. “Immortals like me are so boring compared to you, it’s like seeing color for the first time in your life...! I can’t get enough, I need more! More!” He sounds strangely desperate compared to his usual self.

Unable to hold back any longer, he takes aim, and gently pushes himself in--The first few inches causing you both to gasp from the pleasure from feeling each other. He pushes, and pushes, all the way until half of his shaft is inside of the Bear. He stops then, eyes locked with her as he breathes heavier and heavier.

“I’m going to make you mine, You’re going to be mine! I want you all to myself and no one else!” He says, which is quickly followed by the first thirst. It causes all the air to leave your lungs as the intensity begins to smash against your skull again. 

“Mara? Melph or whatever? They don’t matter. Only I matter! I’ll be the only one that matters to you!” The second thrust is deeper this time, he lets out a sharp hiss. 

“You’re going to belong to me, and I’ll make you my favorite Prey! I’ll prey upon you every night for the rest of your life and beyond!” The third thrust causes you both to shiver as he goes deep as he can, he stays there briefly, drooling heavily at the sensation of being Inside of you. Of being Whole with you in the best way possible. Succubus’s live for moments like this.

Your breathing has given way to loud moans, something which only eggs him on further. His pacing picks up, and before long, you’ve regained usage of your body and grip his collar as he pushes in and out of you consistently. You want to punch him, you want to threaten him really, but when the spell is in effect like this, it’s not possible dude. That’s rough.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you through, his tongue battering yours much like how you’d like to batter him in general. You don’t fight it though, and only give in as you feel him push it Deep once more. He consistently keeps up the pace, somehow hitting every single spot you could hope for him to hit--Your brain starts to feel like it’s overloading again, this time feeling the sense of fullness causing you to short out. If your Bear ears could catch on fire, they’d be ablaze right now.

Like all goods things though, they must come to an end... And with this good thing, Orias lets out a sharp breath, pulling back from whatever kisses you had been engaging in, and arches his back lightly as he pushes it deep once more. You feel him pulse quite roughly, causing you to grit your teeth as you feel yourself splash for the final time. He repeats a few more soft thrusts, seemingly not being satisfied with finishing now and here... But eventually, he pulls out, and back, with the oozing mess that is your between legs now forming as he sits up.

You lie back, arm over your face in embarrassment as you try to avoid his gaze. He looks down at you, admiring the state he put you in. He licks the tip of one of his claws as he does so, his tail dancing behind him in excitement.

“Round 1 was so fun... I hope you’re ready for Round 2, my Princess...”

Those words however, cause you to go from flustered, to enraged as you land a kick square on his chest. His lank form goes flying due to your superior Bear strength finally returning in full. 

It is now 3:59AM.

Orias has 1 minutes to escape.

But he doesn’t leave his coat behind. Orias would join dinner that night, with more than one bruise and one swollen eye.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 13 - 14

Every time I turn the page to a new chapter, I tense up, not knowing whose POV I’ll be stuck in. Fingers crossed.....

It had been a long while since Dorian had seen so many stars.

Oh thank God, it’s my precious ice son, Dorian. He deserves to be stretched out on his back across some cool grass, gazing up at the twinkling night sky, happy and safe.

“You were impaled by a poisoned barb,” Rowan said, his voice no louder than the waves lapping against their boat as the swift wind pushed them from behind. “Your magic was drained keeping you alive and walking. You need to eat, or else it won’t replenish.” A pause. “Didn’t Aelin warn you about that?” Dorian swallowed. “No. She didn’t really have the time to teach me about magic.”

Yeah, to teach Dorian magic requires patience, kindness, and intelligence, and Aelin is pretty well lacking in all three of those categories.

Dorian could feel Rowan’s stare pin him like a physical blow. “The choice is yours how much you allow it into your life, how to use it—but go any longer without mastering it, Majesty, and it will destroy you.”

Damn, I don’t like Rowan but at least he’s helping Dorian out here... The bar is set pretty low here.

Dorian angsts about Sorscha. For those who didn’t know, she was a character introduced in Heir of Fire (she was in earlier books but not named) for Dorian to fall in love with, only for her to be beheaded by Dorian’s father near the end, so totally not a waste of everyone’s time. Sorscha deserved better.

[Dorian’s] magic had felt the bond between Aelin and Rowan—the bond that went deeper than blood, than their magic, and he’d assumed it was just that they were mates, and hadn’t announced it to anyone. But if Rowan already had a mate, and had lost her…

Nononononono SJM please please please don’t use Dorian’s POVs for gushing over Aelin and Rowan please please please I’m begging you.

Rowan and Dorian talk, and Rowan... is actually helpful? He’s listening to Dorian’s problems and fears, offering solutions. What happened to the Rowan we all know and hate?

“You know,” [Dorian] said, “sometimes I wish Chaol were here—to help me. And then sometimes I’m glad he’s not, so he wouldn’t be at risk again. I’m glad he’s in Antica with Nesryn.”

Not gonna apologize for saying it; I ship Dorian and Chaol. I want Dorian and his people to leave this shitty war behind and move to another place and Dorian and Chaol to reunite.

Dorian asks Rowan to teach him magic, and I’m so happy SJM is letting these two be friends. The  Rowan gushes about Aelin forever and I want to claw my eyes out.

Dorian nodded his thanks. “The first time you met Aelin, did you know …?” A snort. “No. Gods, no. We wanted to kill each other.”

Yeah you two spent most of  HoF beating the shit out of each other, insulting one another, and Rowan goddamn BIT Aelin. This is supposed to be romantic how......?

The two leave for Skull’s Bay, and Chapter 14 starts.

Clothed in battle-black from head to toe, Aedion Ashryver kept to the shadows of the street across from the temple and watched his cousin scale the building beside him.

Oh yay, Aedion’s POV. Let’s see how SJM butchers him even further.

They are leaving to go wreck shit up or something. The town is empty and dark and cold, because symbolism. They also paid a captain for a ship.

Aelin’s face had gone a bit bloodless, and [Aedion] braced a steadying hand between her shoulder blades.

Wait, between her shoulder blades? That’s kinda odd, ain’t it? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to put his hand on her shoulder, or is this a gesture from another country I have no idea about?

The captain they paid says that Maeve is putting together an army.

Aedion glanced at where Lysandra waited behind him, on the lookout for Aelin’s signal. She was in her traveling clothes — a bit worn and dirty. She’d been reading an ancient-looking book all afternoon. Forgotten Creatures of the Deep or whatever it had been called. A smile tugged at his lips as he wondered whether she’d borrowed or stolen the title.

Haha... because theft is hilarious.... Seriously, if these guys were morally grey of bad guys that’d be alright, but SJM beats us over the head about how they’re in the moral right 100% of the time, so why is Aedion so nonchalant about Lysandra swiping an ancient and probably valuable book?

Lysandra cleared her throat a bit and said too softly for anyone to hear, either the queen or the soldiers across the street, “[Aelin]s accepted Darrow’s decree too calmly.”

TOO CALMLY???? You call threatening Darrow, almost stabbing him, threatening to burn all of her allies, CALM???? WHAT THE FUCK DOES SJM THINK CALMLY MEANS???????

Aedion and Lysandra gush about Aelin some more and makes sure the readers know that even though they are up against a dangerous war, Aelin can handle it because she is the best queen ever!!1 Whatever. Then they flirt.

So [Aedion] snapped his teeth at [Lysandra] and said, “Good thing I know how to make women purr.”

Aedion is a furry, confirmed?

[Aedion] didn’t even want to think about what else Darrow had implied—that a union between Wendlyn and Terrasen had been attempted over ten years ago, with marriage between him and Aelin the asking price, only to be rejected by their kin across the sea. He loved his cousin, but the thought of touching her like that made his stomach turn. He had a feeling she returned the sentiment.

EWWWWW PLEASE STOP. At least the characters are confirming that this is gross shit IG. I’ve read worse.

They just leap off a building and go corner a bunch of the soldiers. What a flawless plan. Better hope none of the soldiers have crossbows or your ass is grass, Aelin.

The soldiers blinked. One of the townsfolk behind them began weeping as a crown of fire appeared atop Aelin’s hair. As the cloth smothering Goldryn burned away and the ruby glowed bloodred.

Bloodred isn’t a word; you’re thinking of simply, blood red. Also lmao Aelin is so dramatic. I guess it’s working because the guards have crossbows but they’re not shooting any of them for some reason...?

Aelin burns a man from the inside, turning him into ash. That is kinda cool, not gonna lie. Just wish a better character had these awesome abilities, you know?

They took back the temple in twenty minutes.

Um... okay? How did you all come out of this fight unscathed? I believe that they could win, considering Aelin has magic and Lysandra is a big leopard and the soldiers are humans without magic, but you’re telling me they had no archers with good aim? That none of them even thought of shooting Aelin while she was there threatening them? Aiight.

And as for the shifter who had ripped into those soldiers with such feral savagery … Aelin left her again in falcon form, perched on a rotting beam in the cavernous archives, staring at the enormous rendering of a sea dragon carved into the floor, at last revealed by that razing fire.

Is Lysandra gonna turn into a sea dragon? That would be cool, but how the hell is she gonna turn into a huge ass dragon? How does her shifting magic work? SJM said earlier that it takes energy from her to change into even simple animals, so wouldn’t she drop dead after shifting into a dragon?

Aelin enters the temple and goes to see the sacred Rock. Chapter ends.

[nobodyzhuman]

Don’t Trust Dumbledore

Part 7

“Potter?”” Draco asked, watching the Gryffindor, fall into his seat. His face had paled and he was breathing fast, to fast. Draco wondered if Potter was having some kind of panic attack. He knew Pansy had them from time to time, and that was what this looked like.

“Shit.” He cursed and got up form his seat.

He knelt down in front of the other boy, “Potter.” He whispered, trying to remember how Blaise always calmed down Pansy. “Hey you’re okay. We will figure that out, and get home and you will get to see your pathetic friends again.” There was no reaction to the words.

So, he leaned in, about to grab Potter’s shoulders and try to get his attention, when a smell caught his attention, it was weak but there. He leaned in closer and tried to find the source again. There it was again, soft like vanilla, with something that reminded him of rain.

He pulled back and looked at Potter, he didn’t seem any different, no changes to his out-ward appetence, and Draco hadn’t noticed any enhancements to his strength or other sense. Otherwise, Potter would have been able to smell the changes on him.

Nothing that gave any hint of an inheritance, but the smell wasn’t human. It didn’t make sense.

He watched as Potter’s breathing evened out a little, but the other boy still looked lost. He knew Pansy sometimes just needed a few minutes to calm herself down and then she would be okay. So, he moved back.

He thought about to what they had been discussing, Potter didn’t trust Dumbledore, that had surprised him. He wondered what the headmaster could have done to cause, Potter not to trust him anyone. The other teen practically worshiped the old man.

‘Potter, doesn’t trust Dumbledore,’ the thought kept spinning around in his head, like it just couldn’t settle, ‘Potter, doesn’t trust Dumbledore.’

Draco shot to his feet, quickly grabbing his wand. Worried when Potter gave no reaction, to his loud and sudden movement.

“No way.” He said out loud, there was no way, that old man would do something so cruel, he waved his wand in front of Potter, using a spell, his godfather had taught him to check for bindings and wards.

He cursed when a netting of different color lights, light up around Potter.

He tried to make sense of it all, but he wasn’t as experienced as Severus, but he knew a binding when he saw one, and there was more than one. There were several all tangled around each other.

Draco lowered his wand, and the lights faded away.

He thought about the smell, it would make sense that it was faint, if there was a binding on Potter. His inheritance, couldn’t come through, but it seemed the bindings where weakening enough that it was leaking though.

Just enough to…

“Oh, bloody hell.” He cursed again.

“Potter!” He said as he tabbed into his own power. The reaction was instant, Potter’s eyes cleared and he looked around the room, jumping in his seat when he saw Draco standing in front of him.

“What?” The brunette asked. “What happened?”

Not wanting to move to far away, because when he told Potter what he was about to, the smaller teen would probably try to make a run for it, and with everything going on, it wasn’t a good idea.

“Have you ever heard of inheritances?” He asked carefully.

“What?”                      

“That’s a no.” Draco muttered, “Okay, this is going to have to be the short version, most old wizarding families, have at some point, married and had children with creatures,” He saw a freaked look appear on Potter’s face and rolled his eyes. “The humanish ones. Like Veela’s, werewolves, kin, vampires, those are the most popular known, but there are others.”

Potter, went to open his mouth, Draco leaned forward and covered it, “Questions after.” Potter glared at him but nodded.

“Anyways, the children, when they become of age, inherit certain aspects of whatever creatures have appeared in their bloodlines. This is called an inheritance. Now, you’re probably asking what this has to do with you.” Potter’s glared darkened, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Yours has been blocked.” He raised his wand, and chose to ignore the way Potter stiffened, he used the same spell as before, showing Potter, the twisted mess of spells wrapped around him.

“Professor Snape taught this to me, it checks for Bindings and Wards, someone has placed a lot of bindings on you.” He lowered his wand letting the spell fade.

“Dumbledore.” He heard Potter mutter.

Potter stood up and stared moving about the room, and Draco sighed and tried not to throw a hex at him.

“But why did you look for it?” Potter asked spinning around to look at him.

“You were freaking out and it was only after you said you didn’t trust the headmaster,” It didn’t look like Potter believed him, “Plus, you scent is changing.” He mumbled.

“What?” Draco sighed again/

“You scent, it’s change, the binding placed on you. It’s weakening enough that your inheritance is trying to break through.”

“Oh.” Was all Potter said before he stared pacing the room again.

Draco let him go about it for, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Potter!” He shouted.

He watched as Potter, suddenly stopped, then lowered his head.

He mumbled something, but Draco couldn’t hear the words.

“What?” he asked, still annoyed by all the pacing.

“Would it change me?” Potter asked.

He was starting to understand why Severus got so annoyed by students all the time.

“It would depend on the creature. Why?” He tried to keep his tone polite. He knew how freaky it was to have this dropped on you. His father had done the same thing this summer to him.

“I…” Potter, started, “I think it is.” He said and started pacing again.

“Potter.” He growled out again, and again the other teen stopped. This time he turned and glared at him.

“Wait?” Draco said, standing up.

“Come here.” He ordered, and he watched in surprise as Potter took a step towards him. The Gryffindor eye’s widened and he stomped his feet, forcing himself to stop. He turned to look at Draco, fear clear on his face.

‘Okay,’ Draco told himself, not the best way to play that. But the temptation had been too strong. Seeing Harry Potter, obey him. How could he not have tried it?

Potter’s feet shifted and he turned towards the door.

Draco knew he was about to run, “Don’t” He ordered and rushed to grab Potters arm.

He hard to duck, when Potter turned and tried to punch him. He quickly reached up and grabbed that arm. Now holding both arms, he forced them down the Potter’s sides.

“Stop.” He said this time, without his power.

Potter glared at him, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His father would have punished him, if he saw him give a submissive an order, just because he could.

“Yes, it can change you.” He said answering the other’s earlier question. “Some creatures, have sub genders, Dominate and Submissive.” He saw Potter lower his head, “You are a submissive, or you will be once, your inheritances fully come in.” He released on of Potter’s arms and used the other to drag him back to the chair.

“Some of your instincts will change, like your instinct to obey a Dominate, or to be close to one. There are other things, but it all depends on what creature blood you have in you.”

“Fuck!” Potter cursed, “Fuck, why is it always me.”

[vardasvapors]

@berrysphase replied to your post:                   berrysphase replied to your post:                ...                

   So, perhaps oddly, I agree with your statement about the wholesale stuff as concerns the greater legendarium, but not LOTR?  In LOTR, considered within its own boundaries, I come away with the deeply uncomfortable sense that the restoration of Gondor’s kingship, the mystic strength in the true line of Elendil, the high and fading virtues of Numenor (transmitted in the germline), are all unquestioned good.  

   but in the greater legendarium all these things are complicated and much more nuanced, especially the colonialism issue re Numenor.  

   eventually there are topics I just can’t think too hard about (especially in-world Valar-related morality questions and the infernal question of Numenor and how far its colonialism is ‘justified’) or it all falls apart and I have to go lie down – I mean, there’s a lot of quicksand    

   I guess what I am saying is *hands* it would be very illuminating and interesting to hear about one of your lines! because to me they are either not clear, or only clear if I carefully avoid looking at them    

OH YEAH THAT IS A REALLY GOOD EXAMPLE. I think that would definitely qualify as a line -- in my opinion, LOTR is undermined as a story if Aragorn’s reign is Actually A Bad Thing, because the alternative-subplot that springs into existence under that reading is....uh....I guess “boring pointlessness tacked onto to a story that’s actually about Frodo etc” is a good way of putting it. But otoh the, like, Actual Lines of Dialogue The Characters Say in support of said Aragorn subplot are also.....what’s a better way of saying ‘irredeemably racist’? So it’s not like just “ignore it! it’s fantasy!” or some shit, but it IS one of those things that for me (though other people might feel totally differently) is much more satisfying to reconcile, rather than wholesale resist or overturn.

Anyway this might be making a mountain out of a molehill-sized solution, but I’m too tired to edit myself down in length so:

(uh.....before the cut....heads up i wrote this at top speed without testing for argumentative rigorousness/accuracy so.....fair warning)

Actually I think this is a much more easily fanwankable problem than some? Mostly because, imo, Aragorn’s character arc and the moral worth of his arc already HAS two alternative justifications right in canon! One is prophetic, and essentially is a 90%-blind prediction of the sequence of events that makes up the plot of LOTR. “either you will become greater than any of your ancestors since Elendil or fall into darkness with all your kin,” says Ivorwen and Elrond and Gandalf. The other is the whole Heir of Isildur renewal of the ~pure bloodline of kings bullshit, which doesn’t lend a single whit to the legitimacy of Aragorn as a person or to the readers opinion of him -- but it matters a lot to the in-universe Dunedain characters of Arnor and Gondor, including Aragorn himself. It’s the whole justification for them ushering him through the loophole and onto the throne. So I’d say, if you want to read Aragorn’s reign and arc as worthwhile - which I do too, because otherwise that subplot of LOTR is a vastly inferior and duller story at best, if not a complete and utter waste of time at worst - one could always go for the idea that the reason it has worth doesn’t need to be the same reason - the True Numenorean King stuff - that the characters of LOTR think it has worth.

Like, the first step is, LOTR’s timespan is so short. REALLY short. Substantively, one could just..pick another 6 month timespan in the legendarium, any 6 month timespan that overlaps a major political shift. or a 120 year timespan too, if you’re thinking Aragorn’s whole reign, in the Silmarillion. in the Akallabeth. in the unfinished tales. LOTR is a blip, time-wise -- it’s a personal story that intersects with the Silm-tier stuff for a brief, if pivotal, skip of time, and incorporates the brief, hindsight-less impressions of the people alive at that moment of time right into the reader’s POV, in a way that the Silm doesn’t do.

So when taking into account how limited the timeline and POV of LOTR characters are, comparatively speaking, I think of Aragorn’s crowning and the restoration of the line as not “inherently good,” but good because it happened to be the right thing at that one period of time.

I definitely think that...even the text, not just my headcanon, very strongly implies that the reason Aragorn’s king bid turned out successfully is because he lived most of his adult life with that prophecy over his head, and therefore practiced all his life to become an actually genuinely good king -- the whole bloodline/heirship stuff is just kind of...justification, in terms of personal/family/numenorean honor, and political plausible deniability -- Aragorn’s sincerely-felt path and reasoning to get there that isn’t just “either you’ll become king or everyone is doomed, because the future says so!” + “here’s a legal loophole to become king!”

And, I think, the in-universe reason the people of Gondor supported Aragorn becoming king is partly because coincidentally Denethor and Boromir were dead and Faramir didn’t reject him; partly because he had the bloodline loophole excuse; and partly (mostly) because everyone was so impressed with how he helped save the world.

But the reason Aragorn managed to wind up in a position to help save the world, and make the right choices to help save the world, is mostly that he was the type of brave and selfless and sincere person who would sacrifice his dream in order to rescue Merry and Pippin, or sacrifice his life to get Sauron to attack him and disregard Frodo and Sam. The sort of person who understands how much worth his people have, who knows what is deckchair-rearranging and what is a beam of true hope be it ever so slender, who accepts the sheer smallness and simplicity of what he needs to do for the greater good, and who respects and can influence his people enough to insist that they accept and understand all of this as well. Which are, like, actually good qualities in a king!

And the whole reason he became such a good person is....because he strove to be so, and because the people around him believed in him and helped him become so, and because of his and their own personal desire to restore the kingship and glory of his people. Uh. sorry. I already just said that.

It’s a circular thing. The myopic tribal hereditary reasons the characters/narrative assigns bloodline-related worth and authority to Aragorn have jack shit to do with the actual reasons he has real moral worth and earned authority, but his own priorities and desires that led to him developing that worth and authority are myopic and tribal and hereditary too.

So I think this specifically isn’t a case of “either Aragorn’s kingship is good because it is a restoration of the line of Elendil, or it isn’t good because the restoration of the line of Elendil is a morally vacuous cause.” It’s a case of causal connections that are really important but are far more circumstantial than the characters (or the narrative) acknowledges -- people interpret the restoration of the kingship as something Racially And Normatively Appropriate and Special And Right, which...is a) lmao plz, but also b) the Numenoreans and the line of Isildur specifically DO have evidence-based racially-based advantages. It’s just that those advantages don’t confer any inherent worth of any kind --- Aragorn’s bloodline just happened, in this case, to be SUPER USEFUL, because it’s ancient fairy-tale magic that lets him do SUPER USEFUL things in the context of weaponizing Middle Earth’s lingering scraps of fairy tale magic against Middle Earth’s lingering scrap of fairy tale horror. It lets him troll Sauron with a palantir that he could properly use -- due the fact that the Palantir DOES operate on ridiculous ancient morally vacuous bloodline-magic. Or lets him make the oathbreaker ghosts help him out with the corsairs, because the oathbreaker ghosts too, are ancient lingering equally morally vacuous Soulbinding Promise Magic. The whole concept of the Restoration of the Line of Elendil IS, of course, a morally vacuous cause on its own, as anything other than an in-universe stamp of political legitimacy -- but it appears to also have been an essential in-universe motivation and tool for getting the characters into the places they needed to be, in order for the intricately-woven web of events that make up LOTR to come out in the wash the way it did.

For the in-universe characters, saying that there’s something Inherently Good about the renewal of the line of kings and stuff is actually just....it’s only important to them. It’s this stopgap period, post-Ring-Destruction: re-righting the boat and kind of having this adjustment period of fairy-tale magic to kind of ease people from the pre-ring destruction world where there are dark lords and elves, to the post-ring-destruction world. Everyone in-universe goes “rah rah this isn’t just good because circumstances lined up in such a way so that it was good, as prophesied, it’s Totally Also Inherently Good independent of circumstances.” And it isn’t. At all. But it makes sense why they think that, and want to think that, and why the real explanation would not be sufficient for them. The idea that Aragorn’s one and only world-saving action was distracting Sauron from his destroyers, and that the only reason Sauron was destroyed was because of three hobbits and a mixed handful of coincidence and grace swirling together in an Augustinian whirlpool, is not a super crowdpleasing national myth.

And then, the period after he becomes king DOES imo involve like, a bunch of colonial-reminiscent shit that kind of plays into the people’s expectations and view of themselves -- the racial superiority and suggestions of imperialism-flavored actions regarding all the vague mentions throughout the early 4th age timeline of quelling rebellions in various corners of the world (though imo these are not as conclusive or devoid of wiggle-room as some people interpret them). And I REALLY DISLIKE THIS PART because I’m perennially like...yo, what a massive wasted opportunity there Tolkien...because the irony of Aragorn the hereditary king in exile being restored in such a roundabout way that has so little to do with his heirship is a plotline that would be SO MUCH BETTER to acknowledge and focus on than the bald OMG Heir Of Isildur The True King With Pure Ancestry Has Come!!! thing that happens in canon with only a tiny bit of wink-winking about how much dumb luck it actually was. It would have made a really wonderful story!

In fact, I occasionally do wonder -- from the Appendices and the Prologue of LOTR, the supposed “real” “historical” book which the in-universe character of “JRR Tolkien: Not An Author, Only A Translator” translated, is purported to be a copy of a copy of the Red Book of Westmarch that was edited and translated by the scribe Findegil of Gondor, as copied from Pippin’s copy, of Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam’s copy. And one can imagine it’s not too big a stretch that Frodo and Sam might have been more on-the-money regarding Aragorn and the whole kingship restoration plotline in their original story, but Findegil obscured their insights a bit -- even just from good-faith well-intended biased interpretation due to his understanding of Gondor’s renewal histories.

But still....even with all the undertones and overtones of the restoration of old colonial stuff -- does that mean restoration of old colonial shit in perpetuity? I don’t think THAT’S a necessary extrapolation. For one, imo there’s no testament of proportionality. Elements of recurrences of old colonial shit seem to have been present! -- but for how long, how impactful or destructive, compared to how much tables-turning revolutionary awesome genuine improvement stuff, given everything Sauron had been doing? I mean could be shittier than anything like is often is IRL, but this is as outsode of RL as you get. So. A drop amid a flood? Could be. Who knows? Not much is specified, but not much is precluded either. You can fill in that 120 year gap with almost anything. If someone wanted to fill it with some fantasy of a historical-fiction Realpolitik aesthetic, instead of actually making up something new from the unlimited amount of creative potential conferred by an ahistorical post-dark-lord fantasy setting, that’s legit, but it’s still just conjecture.

Going back up 5 paragraphs to when I thought this was going to be a short answer (LOL) -- 120 years is both very long AND very short -- i.e., 120 years is a nose-to-the-ground view vis-a-vis Silmarillion times, but otoh vis-a-vis RL timelines, there’s just so much TIME and room for....i mean 120 years ago today was 1897? Before World War I? How vastly has world and domestic policy has changed since then? Or like...pick from your choice of other 120 year periods in pre-modern history too, if that’s not a good comparison. Even if there isn’t much concrete reliable evidence, there’s still a lot of room, even before Aragorn’s death - but even more room after it! - for the people of the Reunited Kingdom to potentially, if you so choose, have their day in the sun comforting themselves about how great they are and how their ancestral royal line is restored, and then just slowly move on, change, grow, progress, decide some of their earlier ideas were dumb, reverse themselves in various political and foreign policy arenas (like they had already started to do in some cases during the LOTR timeline), quietly purge themselves of their racist bullshit  -- over the course of a few generations, as is the way of mortal realms. And most importantly, to finally let go of the past, because they’ve been able to taste the satisfaction of a fairy tale, and have come through it, and their children’s children have now lived to see a time where they don’t need it.

(This assumes that The New Shadow is non-canon. Which. HELL YES. It is  fucking non-canon, because it’s stupid and even Tolkien thought it was depressing and mean-spirited, which is seriously saying something.)