#but I sure do have some feelings about the defiant dragons

[thewidowsledger]

Bearer Of The Seed

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Targaryen!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: +18, HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, smut, angst (sex just for the obligation of making heirs), forced marriage (political arrangement to save reader's family), Natasha plots to make reader pregnant while reader plots to deceive Natasha lol, lots of chasing, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, dubious consent, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding (reader is a virgin), creampie, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author’s Note: Tiger cub!!!! 🐅 Thank you so much for your request and I hope I wrote your request the way you imagined it to be. Yey, my first fic request done! There are more, hihi <3 ps. I am not actually back yet, I just wanted to post this ksksskskss

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⧗

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

⧗

“Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…”

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

“I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days.”

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha’s grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

“Heirs…”

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

“Oh, we’ll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact.”

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

“I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We’ll have as many children as the gods see fit to bless us with.” She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family’s safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

“The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers.”

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

“Let her know that I am denying her request,” you replied coldly as the night breeze.

“But your Gra—”

“Tell her that.” you cut her off with a finality, “I’ll be at my chambers, I’ll retire early for tonight.” You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day.

You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn’t know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

“The Queen is not feeling well, you Grace.”

The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

“What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?” The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

“Well, you Gr—”

“I will go and check on my wife.”

“I fear the Queen doesn’t want anyone in her chambe—”

“I’m not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife.”

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

“Gods, you’re burning up,” she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance.

Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already.

“And what is the cause of her sickness?” she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

“It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion,” she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. “And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover,” she added, finally eyeing the King.

“Days?” Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

“Yes…”

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber. “Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon,” she instructed.

“Yes, your Grace.”

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

“I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick,” she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

“My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale.”

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

“I’m fine,” you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. “Just a bit…tired, that’s all.”

Tired of all this.

“Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace.”

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you just a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha’s visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible.

You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes.

You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

“Are you running away from me?”

As you met Natasha’s intense gaze, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. “Y-your Grace…” you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response.

You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. “No, your Grace,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

“I was expecting that you’re still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you’re still sick.”

“I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…”

“You should’ve come to me so I will go out with you.”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you’re going to say the next words, “I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace.”

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. “I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N,” she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath.

“Look at me.” She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

“I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight.”

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn’t follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn’t you but your maid servant.

“Y-your Grace!” The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

“Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen’s bed?!” Natasha demanded.

“Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn’t feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine,” the maid servant’s hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, “and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left.” The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

“Forgive me, your Grace…please.”

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King’s bed.

Natasha’s voice echoed through the night, “Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?”

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

“You were never ill, Y/N!”

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

“I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you’re full of my seed.”

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

“Lock the doors!” she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

“Strip,” she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, “Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing.”

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory.

Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form, the heavy golden brooch at her shoulder a stark reminder of the game is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha’s lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

“Open wider,” she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

“My bed has been lacking...heat,” she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. “And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight.”

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

“You make it difficult,” she says, her voice tight with frustration, “to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons...And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb.”

“Am I just a bearer of your offspring?” You pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly, undressing herself, “in this, you are.” As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. “But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer.”

“You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me,” she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. “And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir.”

“And perhaps,” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, “when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more.” Her gaze holds yours captive. “But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed.”

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

“You are mine now,” she growls, her breath hot against your ear. “No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

“You are so tight around me, Y/N,” she groans, her voice low and possessive. “Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me, to bear my children.”

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately claw at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

“Y-your…Grace…” you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

“You’re my Queen.” She growled in your ear.

“Yes, your Grace!” You cried out in pain and pleasure.

“Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you’ll bear my heir.”

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you.

Natasha pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

“My seed stays inside you,” she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up her own seed and forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

“Your Grace...it's too much…”

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, “It’s Natasha for you, my sweet.” Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

“Natasha…” you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

“Say it again,” she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. “Say my name like that again, Y/N.” Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she’d like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…” Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

“You’re so good for me,” she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

“From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night.”

[blackbloodteeth]

13th Sentence Game

@bcbdrums linked me this post (about sharing the 13th sentence from any WIP), and then ended up spurring me into sharing them from all my WIPs. I hope this chaos is what you wanted.

While this is mostly everything, I've skipped some WIPs for reasons such as maybe ending up as potential Resbangs™, but otherwise enjoy this absurdly long list I've put together over the course of like three hours.

You can play along and try to guess what each one's about, if you want hahaha

1, "2021 July 15"* You're sitting up, sweating like crazy, all you can focus on is taking in air.

*Technically my first fic, but it was scrapped. Never really posted it because it's too confusing and now outdated.

2. "2021 Sep 24"* As the previously stated unpredictable behaviour has led to only a small number of assessments on combat, the full extent of his abilities remain undocumented.

*Was originally for an event, but I've considering expanding upon it.

3. "(WIP) TBN" It was like the world here at DWMA was some kind of grand show, and he was just some background character.

4. Inner Strings They all called him the Soul Eater.

5. "be crime do gay" Just. Not like that.

6. Scythes don't make for practical weapons He had no idea if he was going to be able to make friends at all, let alone find a meister, someone willing to accept him for himself and actually be able to use him effectively.

7. "(simple au)" He had an odd combo of red eyes with white hair and tan skin, sharp teeth pulled into a defiant scowl, and a black jacket hunched over a frame that didn't look to understand posture for shit.

8. When Death City snows over "Come on, I doubt it'll actually snow; that shit never happens here."

9. I ain't Feline fine She gets him to stand in the center of the spell zone while instructing Maka to keep behind her, eagerly fixing her hat with her paws before starting.

10. Teeth So he'd take to his now familiar hideaway, a piano tucked away in a sparsely used room.

11. Happy Birthday, Soul Not even Maka.

12. "cursed hall" Given they've gotten to know each other to some degree before now, he was already pretty adjusted to seeing the two other members of this makeshift team: Soul and, well, Soul.

13. It's been a long night for my entire life There was always work to be done and he couldn't wait to get started.

14. One Word* Seeing all those intertwined neighbors, how easily they all sent signals together, that part of him craving to connect and belong made him feel hollow, made him wish he could have that just like everybody else.

*Let it be known that this is the notorious development hell WIP.

15. It was a dark and stormy night Of course with her literary weapon and the sudden jolt of her appearance, the figure seems to have been startled enough to give an auditory following to their jumping back, dull gleaming red blinking wildly back at her tense confusion while- Wait, Soul??

16. Ride by night only [6:19 PM] Kinda with him actually, why are you in a hurry then lol

17. The Very Hungry Soul “Well if the very hungry caterpillar would like to make sure we’re not late, he should hurry up and get dressed before I eat his breakfast for him before it gets cold.”

18. See you on the other side "Soul?"

19. The Dragon and The Moth He’s stopped entirely in his tracks when she abruptly goes in for a hug, snout nuzzling against his chest with a much softened sweetness.

20. Draconic Upon further noting its smooth surface he soon realized it wasn’t a star but in fact some sort of rock, blandly opaque like that of salt despite its odd moonlit shimmers, which even stranger still became steadily see-through in the absorbed heat of his fingertips.

21. "(wings made of arms)" Could it... really be......?

22. The Unknown Caller Caller unknown. But for him that was a lie.

23. The Exchange [8th] "Drink?"

24. Don't Escape Making his way around the back, his eyes glide along the sides until he reaches the pile of small logs, the ax resting up against them exactly as he’d left it.

25. The 42nd Story (Ch. 2)* The muffled talking of a woman, determined to be coming from a nearby room.

*As stated in The Ramble Room, this entire story was scrapped. While I didn't share the second and only other chapter despite it being finished, the first chapter was still shared.

26. "2023july11" He proceeds with actually cleaning himself up, a faint smile keeping him still awake and upright.

27. "(Aug31)" Her smile fades a little as she looks him over, a different sense of intrigue making her face bunch up funnily.

28. "hand pun" Her horrid fascination grew to the point of needing a new name for it (morbid curiosity, that's a classic) as the guy turns the hand around while it signs to him, eyes impossibly wide when she notices the similar skin tone under his hood and the missing space in his left jacket sleeve and the red of his eyes when he suddenly looks directly at her.

29. "WereWeek prompt 3" There's this girl – new student who moved in this year – who is so bossy.

30. "trees"* So much on his mind that he can't hold at bay and he can't even walk about it.

*Technically a small one-shot collection, but it's all going to be in the same fic.

31. "here and now"* His fingers stretch out from his palms in front of the glass, hurriedly ruffling through his hair, his tongue sticking out and then grinning ear-to-ear at her again with all the sunlight in the world.

*My current WIP! It's been slow-going, but I can't wait to see it through to the end haha

The rest are unsorted WIPs in my "drabble zone (2024)" doc:

32. 'Cause you are more than just a dream There's an odd look he pauses on her with after hopping off that she can really only describe as him expecting her to feel like he just sealed her in with a wild animal.

33. "blacksmith au" While his body shown well the signs of having dedicated much of his life to his craft, there was a strange affliction splitting much of it in twain, diagonally from hip to shoulder as if sliced by the very heavens itself in warning.

34. Devils don't go to Heaven (working title) “...Where is this?”

Anything else is so disorganized or only a small handful of sentences that I'm just gonna go ahead and stop it here haha

Thanks for tuning in, hope this was at least entertaining, or possibly even enlightening to the sheer amount of WIPs I've manged to collect over the past few years. I do want to go back to them eventually, but one step at a time, eh?

[azulasmommykink]

Whispered Secrets in the Dark: Chapter II - A Helping Hand

do block this blog if you don't like A/B/O & incest fics so I don't show up in the tag for you

pairing: Azula x Ursa | rating: explicit | A/B/O; alpha!Azula x omega!Ursa

general content warnings: omegaverse (feat. g!p), explicit sexual content, parent-child incest, consensual underage sex.

One of the most useful skills learned in the Fire Nation Junior Corps is, undoubtedly, how to put all your clothes in under a minute.

Very useful, Azula, gracefully, jumps into the closest pair of trousers, hoping it would help a little. She ties her robe close, and is quite grateful for her own habit of sleeping under heavy blankets, the weather never matters. Just to be sure Mother dearest won’t see her erection at all – even if she’s not escaping the scent of arousal, – she places one of the many extra pillows at her lap. After unlocking the door and then hiding under the blankets, she giives Mother permission to enter the room.

She can’t hide the scent of arousal, but, well, Azula’s a young alpha going through body changes, it’s normal for her to be aroused at any moment of the day.

“Am I interrupting  something, sweetie?” Mother has always called sweetie – Azula’s sweetie, Zuko’s dear, Lu Ten’s love – and it shouldn’t affect her like this. The stupid cock strains against hastily put on trousers. 

“Just doing some light reading before sleeping,” she half lifts the scroll she decided to pretend to be reading.

“My girl, always interested in learning,” Azula does not blush a little at the praise. Stupid cock keeps twitching under any attention from the older woman. “I’d like to have a conversation about you behavior earlier today.”

She steps into the room, properly. Her nose flares just a little, twitching like Azula’s does when she’s noticing some sort of interesting scent. But the reagal princess does not react, even if she should have a disgusted look on her pretty face, nose filled with the arousal of her own offspring. Mother’s floral, soft scent does not help Azula’s current situation.

She’d like to be alone so she can jerk off in peace, without the object of her lust in her bedroom, thank you very much!

“Feeling alright, sweetie?”

“Y-yes,” fuck, I do not stutter! “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, my dragon cub?”

Azula full on flustered, what was the last time Mother called her the old, maybe adorable, nickname?: “Yes, I’m sure. Do not worry. What about about my so-called behaviour?”

“It’s not polite to threaten to burn servants.”

“They were annoying me,” they were staring at me like a piece of meat. “Annoyances need to learn their place.”

“A kind ruler does not burn their subjects.”

“I’m fifth in the line of succession, and I have no interest in being Firelord, Zuzu is more interested than me. Go pester her with your ‘how a proper ruler behaves’ nonsense.”

“You’re still a royal, and you’re still not meant to behave like a childish brat.”

“Perhaps I am a childish brat,” it feels almost more like a banter than a scold. “And I didn’t burn any of them, stop worrying about it.”

“I’m trying to fix your reputation. How are you going to find a suitable omega with the reputation of being a violent, brutal alpha?”

“I’m not interested in finding a suitable omega.”

“Crown Prince Iroh is. He’ll be Firelord soon, Lu Ten already has. You and your sister are the next.”

“Being this far down the lineage, I’d expect to have the same experience as Father.”

Mother steps closer, it throbs and Azula has forgotten for a moment that she was in the middle of something: “Your Father is a decent alpha, a decent Firebender, however you… you are a prodigy. No Firelord would allow it to go to waste your seed in inferior omegas.”

“I didn’t know you were so… defiant.”

She scoffs: “I am honest.”

“My Father is a great Firebender.”

“You’re better than him, are you not?”

Would that be some sort of treason? She knows she is a better Firebender than Father. Objectively, only Uncle and Grandfather are better benders than her. It’s an experience thing, she knows, being a prodigy like Grandfather, it won’t take much longer for her to be superior to Uncle in his prime. And she respects him just enough to admit she’d like to be better than him.

(Maybe she’d respect Uncle more if he didn’t keep choosing Zuko over her, if he didn’t act like he had only one niece.)

“You’re on the way to becoming the greatest Firebender in history, sweetie.”

Azula blinks, surprised that Mother’s close to her, standing beside the bed: “I believe that’s true.”

“Good girl.”

She makes quite an embarrassing noise, Mother smiles and cradles her cheek, her quite flustered cheek: “I do… I do try, sometimes.”

“So keep trying to be a good girl,” she places a knee on the edge of the bed, and Azula’s brain gets full of static. “And tell me what you were doing before I knocked on your door.”

“Perhaps I was having some quality private time.”

“So I interrupted your playtime? I could help.”

“Help?” Azula blinks, her speech impaired by how close Mother is, by how the omega smells sweet and how her night robe doesn’t hide much of her body at all. Has it always been this… inappropriate? “Help… how?”

“Help however you want,” she places a hand on top of the pillow, applying minor pressure that is enough to get yet another embarrassing noise from the young alpha. “Tell me to leave and I will.”

“No,” she grabs her wrist. “Stay.”

“Whatever you need, little dragon.”

Mother kisses her forehead, and Azula is about to burst. Maybe in flames, maybe in a fountain of cum, maybe in ashes from a mix of embarrassment and that warmth burning on her chest from Mother’s affection. It feels like something innocent, it feels like there’s a dirty promise underneath.

A dirty promise she hopes Mother fulfills.

Azula can’t avoid the deep red flush on her face when she allows Mother to pull the pillow away, her cock makes quite the visible bulge on her trousers, the wet spots from the precum that didn’t stop leaking only makes her fluster more. 

“It’s alright, don’t be ashamed,” Mother says, all sothing and calm. “It’s normal.”

“I don’t think this is normal.”

“Don’t worry, no one will judge us."

“I imagine no one should know.”

“You’re correct.”

“I always am.”

She’s smug for a second, before Mother gropes her, as bold as the one person who has the courage to do that. And it makes her hips jerk with the almost unexpected touch. She throws her head back as Mother squeezes it, and Mother takes the opportunity to kiss her neck. The older woman hums in approval. She keeps kissing and sucking at the sensitive, soft skill before she pulls down Azula’s trousers just enough to set her cock free.

At least she’s leaking enough that no spit is needed.

“Such a majestic thing you have here,” she praises, not even looking at it, just stroking slowly. “My little dragon is all grown up.”

Azula is a master of self-control. it’s the only reason she doesn’t start to fuck into Mother’s hand. Soft, warm, fingers almost not long enough to touch each other when her hand is wrapped around Azula’s girth.

Much better than her own hand.

Paired up with the atack on her neck, she’s dangerously close to an orgasm within minutes. Mother withdrawns from her neck, her free hand sneaks up to her chest. Not expecting her breasts to be played with, she moans almost too loud.

“Let go, sweetie” her hand moves down her abs and back again, the hand stroking her cock speeds up. “Let go of what you’ve been holding back all day. And all because of me.”

Count on Mother to know of Azula’s dirty, little incestous feelings.

It doesn't matter, not when she’s twisting her right nipple just enough to be the last straw to make her burst in a ridiculously intense orgasm. Grabbing at the bedsheets, moaning Mother just loud and clear enough for the woman to hear.

“There you go, my good girl. My beautiful good girl.”

[lemonhemlock]

hello! hope you are well. i love love love your posts. they are always so reasonable and aptly put. so thank you for all your hardworks <3

i was thinking about something for a long time. i'd like to know your opinion on that.

it's obvious that rhaenyra never should have married laenor. in the book she was threatened by viserys to marry him and if she had remained defiant, viserys would have disinherited her. she felt pressured to marry laenor in the show too, so that whole thing was unfortunate for her. when she married laenor, in the show she couldn't conceive his child. and then perhaps she and harwin began their relationship. when jace was born, it was obvious that he wasn't a velaryon.

so, exactly what was rhaenyra supposed to do after jace? she needed an heir to secure her position, but with laenor, it wasn't happening. and when jace was born, he didn't look like rhaenyra either. was there any way for rhaenyra to annul her marriage without offending corlys? and even if the annulment was possible, how it would have affected laenor? would people have called him "less of a man"? everyone knew for a fact that laenor was gay.

even though i am team green i feel some sort of sympathy for rhaenyra here because i still don't know if there were any possible way to get out of that situation without causing a huge drama. that being said, vaemond and his family deserved better.

i know, there are too many questions and for that i'm so sorry, i just had to ask them to you.

Hello, sweet anon, thank you for your lovely message!

As it happens, I already made a post that, I think, answers most of your questions (if you have other additional ones, hit me up).

it's obvious that rhaenyra never should have married laenor.

I think Laenor is actually a very good political match for Rhaenyra. He is also a kind man, who respects her, abides by her and would never hurt her. The problem with the Velaryons is inherited from the previous Targaryen generation. By marrying outside the family, Rhaenys created two additional dragon-riders with her children. Think about the fact that, at the time of Rhaenyra's marriage, House Velaryon had three dragon-riders, while House Targaryen only two. Uniting these two branches through marriage is a very good idea. Just like Viserys marrying Laena would have accomplished the same thing (🤢).

in the book she was threatened by viserys to marry him and if she had remained defiant, viserys would have disinherited her. she felt pressured to marry laenor in the show too, so that whole thing was unfortunate for her.

Only after she made a mockery of her betrothal tour and almost-slept with Daemon. She has a lot of opportunities and freedoms out of reach for many other noble lords and ladies.

when she married laenor, in the show she couldn't conceive his child. and then perhaps she and harwin began their relationship.

Not sure about Laenor's infertility. It's more likely he & Rhaenyra didn't really try.

when jace was born, it was obvious that he wasn't a velaryon.

Yes. Perhaps Rhaenyra hoped Harwin had some recessive blond genes in his background (not phrased in that language, obviously) and the child would come out looking more like her. But it was a huge miscalculation.

so, exactly what was rhaenyra supposed to do after jace? she needed an heir to secure her position

No, she didn't. See the first linked post. I think the better option here would have been to name Aegon her heir* and for Laenor to pass Driftmark to Laena's line after his death. Viserys had already produced enough children with Alicent and House Velaryon has no lack of cousins who can inherit, if needs be. There are enough Targaryens and Velaryons in the world by this point; they are not facing extinction.

*No, her life would not be forfeit in that situation. Legally, her claim is not very strong (narrative weakness / plot hole) and realistically-speaking people would not have much reason to rally behind her. I have a whole succession for the Iron Throne tag for this.

was there any way for rhaenyra to annul her marriage without offending corlys? and even if the annulment was possible, how it would have affected laenor? would people have called him "less of a man"? everyone knew for a fact that laenor was gay.

Previous post on annulment + another one. Important aspect to keep in mind: why would the High Septon award Rhaenyra an annulment when the Faith of the Seven is based in Oldtown, the home city of the Hightowers?

that being said, vaemond and his family deserved better.

Agree. That was a grievous abuse of power. 🤷‍♀️ Personal ambition is not a crime. Even if you want to argue Baela & Rhaena are ahead of him in the line of succession*, Vaemond has every right to petition his case and await the King's judgment. He is not seizing anything illegally here. He is officially appealing the institution of the Crown and stating his own argument. Not Vaemond's problem Viserys is rotting from the inside out and he is basically petitioning Alicent & Otto.

*Controversial opinion, but I'm not arguing that. I think the girls should be disqualified because they are not putting their own cases forward as a result of their conflict of interests (their father being married to Rhaenyra, who is actively trying to usurp the Velaryons out of her lands). Again, not Vaemond's problem they are unwilling or unable to argue for themselves and indirectly abetting Rhaenyra's takeover.

even though i am team green i feel some sort of sympathy for rhaenyra here because i still don't know if there were any possible way to get out of that situation without causing a huge drama.

It's not so much that Rhaenyra made one or two mistakes and now she should be punished for them, it's more that... I'm really struggling to see what/if Rhaenyra did anything right at all. She has been skirting her duties all her life and everything she does post ep. 6 is damage-control, which inadvertently backfires on her, because the hole she dug herself in is already too big.

Nevertheless, Rhaenyra is in a very difficult situation, no doubt. It is not fair that she has to clean up the messes left behind by Jaehaerys and Viserys, the two "peaceful" kings. Jaehaerys should never have passed over Rhaenys in the first place. Viserys should never have remarried and produced extra sons. It's a difficult task, but it is her lot in life, should she ever wish to become queen. She can always pass this on to Aegon and live her life as a rich, comfortable woman. No one is forcing her hand here.

The only way I see Rhaenyra having a sliver of a chance is if she maintains a good, honest relationship with Alicent and her sons, marries a powerful, rich noble lord and has his trueborn children + petitions, wines & dines, gives out bribes and favours constantly to the lords and important players in Westeros, makes constant royal progresses, gets to know them, gets them to like her, helps them with their grievances, just basically lobbies the fuck out of every power centre in the Seven Kingdom, including the common folk. So that, when the time comes, she has so much popular support that she can basically impose herself via some sort of charismatic authority. Doesn't flee to Dragonstone, abandoning the capital and the practical governance. And absolutely does not kill her husband and does not marry Daemon.

i know, there are too many questions and for that i'm so sorry, i just had to ask them to you

No worries, I just hope I answered them! 🦄

[rafor]

Chapter 40 - Rare Elements - The Glitch

I lay pinned to the ground, gasping for air. She smirked at me with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Okay, fine, you got me. Could you now please let me go?” I pleaded. She shook her head slowly. “Nah, I don’t think that I will.” She leaned closer, her claws digging into my neck. “See me as an enemy. That’s what got you down. You’re now at my mercy, and as an enemy, I won’t hesitate to finish you off.” She spoke in a low, menacing voice. “In the worst way possible, reveling in your pain as each second makes me feel stronger and more victorious, and then, when someone arrives...” She trailed off, glancing at the distance. I followed her gaze and saw a spear hovering in the air, conjured by her elemental power. It was a normal spear, except for the metal tip that gleamed sharply in the sun. She looked back at me and smiled cruelly. “Then, in a flash...” She flung the spear at my head with a flick of her wrist while keeping me immobilized on the ground. I tried to scream “Wait!”, but her grip on my throat was too tight. I felt blood dripping from my neck, choking me. The spear flew towards me like a bullet, closing the distance in a fraction of a second. As it was about to pierce my skull, I made one last desperate attempt to free myself and dodge. In that instant, I dissolved into a dark smoke, sometimes light, sometimes dark. I couldn’t see anything, but my body quickly reformed in another spot that I had glimpsed before disappearing. I touched myself frantically, making sure I was still intact. I was still a dragon, with no sign of the wounds she had inflicted on me. I had healed completely in less than a second. I shouted, “Nice try. But now it’s my turn.” She didn’t answer but looked excited for another round. I didn’t want to hurt her. It was okay for me to take damage from her attacks. I could heal myself, but she couldn’t, and any injury could leave a scar if not treated quickly with a crystal. We had some here, but I knew they were not painless. I experimented with my dark element. I could dissolve myself into a thick black smoke and reappear somewhere else. It was like teleporting from one place to another, and it worked even in broad daylight for me.

I kept her off balance by shifting my stance, taunting her to make a move. She snapped, “Come on, attack already! I want to kick your ass again.” I seized the opportunity and teleported behind her, locking her in the same hold she had used to defeat me earlier. I whispered in her ear, “You’re quite a fighter for a queen. You know that?” She struggled in vain, feeling my grip tighten around her. She spat out, “One way or the other, I had to make my legacy.” I smirked, “Sure, so now what should I do with you?” She was silent for a moment, but I could sense her plotting something. She tried to distract me by saying, “I don’t know, finish me?” As she said that, she launched another spear using her wind from behind me, aiming for my head. Her element was really annoying for me, but I heard the whoosh of the spear as it sliced through the air. I was about to release her and dodge the attack, but then I realized that if she missed me, she would hit herself. The spear was on a collision course with her head. I quickly reached out and grabbed the spear, barely stopping it from piercing her skull. She gasped and shut her eyes, bracing for the worst. Then she felt the spear stop and opened her eyes, seeing how close she had come to death. I had saved her, and she was speechless. I said sarcastically, “Congratulations for almost killing yourself, Freya. If you wanted to die so badly, you could’ve just asked.” Of course, she didn’t mean to and just miscalculated her move. I tossed the spear aside and let her go. She got up from the ground, still stunned by what had happened. I broke the silence and said, “An enemy wouldn’t have done that, you know?” She glared at me with a defiant look, as if ready for a third round. She said, “You don’t have to tell me that, but what if I do this?” She shot another spear using her wind at me, and again, my reflexes were faster than hers. I caught it with ease and threw it back at her.

She attempted her first move once more, manipulating the air and dust to obscure my vision, but I was familiar with her trick. I remained motionless, attuning my ears to any sound of her approach, and sure enough, she came from behind. I snatched her in mid-air and slammed her to the ground with one of my wings, effortlessly. She was not yet subdued, and she swiftly wriggled free, striking me on the chest with her hind legs, and darted back into the dusty haze, this time hurling it towards me. I conjured a barrier of fire around me, keeping the dust at bay. She tried to breach the fiery wall and succeeded, but at the wrong spot. I spun around, anticipating her attack from my rear, where she thought I would be vulnerable, but instead of finding me behind, she faced me directly. To signal that I had enough of this game, I summoned an ice spear and aimed it at her, threatening to unleash it.

With a stern voice, I commanded her to halt. “Stop. This is no longer a joke.” She ignored my warning and lunged at me, trying to push the spear away from her chest. But I was quicker and stronger. I twisted the weapon and drove it deep into one of her wings. She screamed in agony, and I taunted her. “What now? Shall I end your misery? Have you developed a taste for pain?” She spat back, “I have seen worse than this.” Then she snapped the shaft of the spear and freed herself from its tip. With a gust of wind, she summoned a crystal to her side. In an instant, she healed her wound and prepared for a new assault. The sky darkened, and a storm brewed above us. I wondered if it was her doing or if the kingdom was under siege. But I did not waste time questioning her. I braced myself for her next move. She soared high into the air, and I followed her. She reached for the clouds, and I tried to catch up with her. She slowed me down with the wind. Then the storm unleashed its fury. A bolt of lightning struck me with blinding speed. I could not dodge it in midair, even though hitting me while flying should have been impossible. The electric shock coursed through my body, but it did not kill me. It only sent me plummeting to the ground. As I fell, I lost all my senses. My eyes felt like they had burned away. My ears rang with silence. My skin was numb and raw. Pain was all that remained. I turned into a white cloud, or so it seemed when I regained some of my vision after healing partially and resuming my shape. I lay on the ground, stunned and battered but still alive and ready to fight again, ignoring the damage and the pain.

The storm raged above me, a swirling mass of dark clouds and fierce winds. I knew she was behind it, manipulating it with her power. Somewhere in the eye of the storm, she was waiting for me. I sensed her preparing another lightning bolt, ready to strike me down. I had no time to waste. Dodging was not an option. I had to face her head-on.

I soared into the storm, flapping my wings against the gale. I tried to tear apart the clouds with my wind element, but she held them together with her will. I caught a glimpse of her face. A flash of anger and contempt. She shouted something, but I couldn’t hear her over the thunder. I yelled back, “Don’t you even think about that!” and charged at her, conjuring ice shards around me. It was a predictable move, but I did it deliberately. I had a plan. She unleashed another lightning bolt, aiming for my head. She missed by a hair, but the blast was deafening. It made me lose my concentration for a split second, and some of my shards hit me on the shoulders. They cut through my flesh, but not my wings. I could still fly. I formed a spear of ice in my hand and held it in front of me, ready to impale her. She hovered in the air, defiant and unafraid. She was in a clear spot in the storm, surrounded by her element. I was almost within reach of her, but she summoned one more lightning bolt. It was weaker than the others, barely charged at all. But it hit me, and it hit her too. We were too close to each other. The shock was too much for me. I blacked out. I fell to the ground like a stone.

When I came to, I smelled smoke. It wasn’t from the storm. It was from my charred scales. I groaned and opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, but I saw a shape that looked like Freya. I crawled toward her, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I summoned another spear of ice, just in case she tried anything funny. But she didn’t move. She was unconscious, too. I checked her breathing. Nothing. I checked her pulse. Nothing. She was dead.

I panicked. She had killed herself with her own attack. I grabbed the health crystals we had in the arena and used them to heal her wounds. They healed her body, but they didn’t revive her spirit. I remembered what I had seen during the training sessions. The thunder dragon had brought his opponent back from the brink of death with his electricity element. I had to do the same thing, but there was one problem: I didn’t know how to use that element.

But I had to try anyway.

I generated static with my wind element, creating sparks around me. I tried to charge myself up, then focused the energy on my palms. Without knowing what I was doing, I touched the ground on two opposite sides of her while still charging up.

It worked.

She gasped for air, and her heart started beating again.

I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Come on, come on, wake up. Please.”

She opened her eyes after a few minutes and looked at me with confusion and fear.

I held her close to me and lifted her head from the ground.

The sight of her terrible conditions filled me with dread. I waited for any sign of movement or a voice. Then, faintly, I heard her whisper my name. “Nox?”

Relief flooded through me as I rushed to her side. “Oh, thank God, you’re still alive! It’s me. Don’t worry, you’re fine. I’m here.” I cradled her in my arms, feeling her weak pulse.

She made no attempt to get up but lay limp on the ground. “Come on, stand up. The battle is over.” I urged her gently.

She groaned. “I’m exhausted.”

“I can imagine. So am I. Come on, one last little effort, let’s get back to the palace.” I tried to lift her, but she resisted.

She looked at me with confusion in her eyes. “What happened?”

I sighed. “You hit yourself with a lightning bolt from a storm you just made. Actually, you hit both of us.”

She blinked, then gave a feeble laugh. “Ahaha, woops.”

I smiled, despite myself. I wanted to lighten the mood and make her forget the pain. Maybe she learned a lesson from this. “Next time, if you have to do it, make sure to not hit both of us but just me, eheh.”

She rolled her eyes. “Suuuure, I won’t.” She sounded drunk, but it was probably just exhaustion.

“Please, get up. Let’s get to the palace and put you to rest.” I pleaded.

She looked at me with a pleading expression of her own. “Could you carry me there, please?”

I was about to protest, but then Solara appeared out of nowhere. She gasped when she saw Freya’s condition. “Is everyone okay? I saw the storm, Freya. Was that you?”

Freya nodded weakly. “Yeees…”

“She also hit and killed herself with lightning. Thanks to me, I was there to bring her back to life.” I added sarcastically.

Solara shook her head. “Oh Freya, this is the third time you do this. Please be careful!”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Third time? She controlled it like she had always been doing it!”

Freya didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Solara said softly, “Ok, maybe we should bring her back to the palace.” She helped me lift Freya, and we carried her back to the palace, back to the royal chamber. We laid her down gently on the bed, as if she were a precious treasure.

“Thank you again for the help, Solara.” I said gratefully.

“You’re welcome. Please take care of her! Have a nice evening!” She said and left.

It was still afternoon. It wasn’t evening yet. I could have left too, but I decided to stay in the palace. I asked the guards to keep everyone away from the chamber so no one would disturb her.

Around the palace, I resumed my duties and went to the throne room. We didn’t have many visitors that day, luckily. I had to make decisions now without her, but I knew what she would choose, so I acted like her. I was the new king, after all.

What a morning we had just experienced! What a close call with death, too. Please don’t make this happen again.

[wandering-lane]

Inspired by the song The Goose and The Wren by Hop Along

I've got a bit of a story worked out behind the song in my brain that's Ace Attorney-ed that isn't obvious from just the drawing (Duh), but I think the drawing is also cool on its own, so a bit of an explanation is below! Warnings for Ace Attorney: Spirit of Justice spoilers!

Sorry for no background, I couldn't figure that much out :')

The Goose and The Wren is a VERY good song that I feel matches up very well with my personal interpretation of Nahyuta's character, as well as the events of Spirit of Justice in general.

The Characters-

Goose- Nahyuta, I used specifically a Swan Goose because A, They live in the area I'd imagine Khura'in is, and B, perty goose :)

Wren- Apollo, Small, pointy, need I say more?

Heron- Dhurke, Big boy and also it makes more sense later into the song

"While in the form of the ant The goose and the wren Left the shores of Maryland To find better oxygen"

A baby Apollo and Nahyuta fleeing the conflict of their home country mayhaps?

"While the outcry of twenty men Run from the nearby battalion As if we avoid their light That we might make it home tonight"

Dhurke and the defiant dragons fleeing from the soldiers chasing em

"And one old crook Carries a very heavy book Friends would say 'Sir Are you sure some good Could come of your learning?'"

Bet you can't guess who the old crook is (It's Dhurke)! The book would be Baby Apollo and Nahyuta, the friend is ya boi Datz

"And he said 'My girl gave it to me Just before the war I've never read a book like this before It's giving me kind of a kind of a, kind of a Burning'"

I mean, Amara WOULD have given birth only a bit before she "Died", and Dhurke wouldn't have known much or anything about Apollo. Also the burning bit.. That goes for both of the kiddos, but especially Polly.

"But if it is love then I'm not quite sure if I should keep it But I've heard it's a part of the whole so I guess I need it But I'll certainly be sure to stay above the ground Lately beautiful things got a way of bringing me down"

Mans is basically a kill-on-site wanted criminal. He probably questioned if bringing two small children who not only would be in danger, but also a liability if they were, say, held hostage. But also it's his family and Dhurke is a family man so he takes 'em anyways. He'll certainly be sure to stay away from trouble, and his beautiful things were almost all taken away from him. "Dead" wife moment.

"Here lie one hundred men Fighters every one of them They went into the light and oh no They won't be home tonight"

A post-soj Nahyuta reminisces on his mistakes as a prosecutor, leading not only countless innocent people to their deaths and imprisonments, but also the deaths and imprisonments of the defense attorneys, Defiant Dragons, all people that he was once part of.

"And I came upon a kid with a kite Despite the storms said he's going to fly So I said 'Brother What would your mother say?'"

He thinks back on his younger self, filled with dreams of a bright future. He was going to go into the fray, and he'd lead the Dragons to victory. He thinks back on what he would change.

"And he said 'Hold your tongue! It was a present And God damn I am a man I ain't afraid of the rain!'"

A young headstrong Nahyuta's response to his own older self's warning. He doesn't fear the Ga'ran regime. He's untouchable. (I also like to think of the kite and it being a present as a metaphor to the Defiant Dragon tattoo on his palm. He was given the trust of his father and the Dragons, and that was all he needed.)

"But what can a bystander do? No more than watch the spidery lights take a hold of you But you know I warned you boy You know I told you boy I'll hold you back boy But now I don't know but Cause in a curious kind of way I want to grow along with you"

More reminiscing, he can't do anything to change his past decisions. All he can do is remember as Ga'ran (Spidery lights. It works too perfectly.) wraps a wire around a neck and pulls him into her manipulation. Nahyuta admonishes his younger self, but he also knows that he was carefree and happy back then, and that the reason he's where he is today is because of the past.

"And morning did come I was standing struck dumb By the man in the sun And the only live one Held a string from his thumb That stretched up to the sky Where the heron flew by Singing 'Oh me and oh my!'"

But the storm passed, and the man in the sun (This one's too easy) came, holding the string that connected them all together. To the Heron, Dhurke, to Nahyuta, and to Apollo.

"And the goose and the wren No I have not seen them But the water looks nice So I dare not think twice And I'm sure that they're fine Very good friends of mine Cause sometimes I can't tell When things are unwell"

He isn't back in the mountains with Apollo, but things are calming now, and he doesn't have to worry about Ga'ran's noose around his neck anymore.

"By the look of the sea Starting straight back at me And I miss 'em I do But I think it is true That when the love go It's the lovers who show Just how lovely they are In a song or a scar"

He misses his childhood, but look where he is now. He has Apollo, he has his mother, his sister, all these people. I always tend to think of the "When the love go" part as Nahyuta thinking about Apollo and Klavier. In a song, or a scar (I always hear that part as Star but either works fine).

"Sincerely your friend Write back to me, Wren I've been thinking too much Down here in the sand"

Literally him just thinking about Apollo and bein like don't leave me hangin broski :')

"The farmer stands and says 'What happened to the land? It used to be fertile. It used to be good, when I was a lad.'"

Dhurke looking over Khura'in (Or the law, or both), and commenting on the corruption seeded into it.

"The farmer calls out to his men says 'It's getting late boys, it's best you come back in.'"

It switches from Dhurke yelling to the Defiant Dragons to him just calling out to baby Apollo and Nahyuta. To his sons, telling them to come back inside before it gets too late.

That part repeats a couple times after that, but anyways.

If you can't tell this has a whole animatic in my head that I might put onto paper someday. I've thought far too much about this song.

Anyways pt 2 hope you all enjoy my thoughts, they plague me so now they get to plague you as well.

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

Timey’s Great Big Pinned Post of Everything

[   she/her | writer/artist | 29 | IGN (NA) Timey.6853  ]

just another friendly local aro-ace salad enthusiast

Hi yes hello, welcome to Timey’s Guild Wars 2 blog where I post about Guild Wars 2 and basically nothing else. Expect a lot of salads, a lot of Living World 1, and especially a lot of Scarlet Briar. Sometimes I draw or write things, too. Mostly I just yell my meta commentary of questionable sanity into the void, though. Y’know how it is. Scarlet stole my last remaining brain cell and adamantly refuses to give it back.

I’m always happy to chatter with folks! Feel free to drop by anytime; I can be a little slow to respond at times, but I really love exchanging theories and ideas and hearing about obscure or interesting details people have found! Give me ALL of the lore. Tell me about your favorite characters. Ramble about OCs. For real, I love to hear all the things okay; don’t worry about being mutuals, either!

DISCLAIMER: This isn’t a place for bigotry, drama, or rudeness though; nobody’s got time for that. Terfs, racists, ableists, and all such things get blocked on sight out here. Hate of any form will never be welcome, period.

With that out of the way, I’ll include some helpful navigation links and summaries of my various AU projects below the cut! Feel free to take a peek if you want. I’ll gradually add more stuff over time, too.

The Handy Dandy List of Links

My Posts

Reblogs

My Art

My Fics

Regrowth AU

Portabella Pirkko - Tag

Harbinger Saoirse - Tag

“Lost But Not Forgotten”

“A Garden of Memories”

Flourish AU

Ceara the Defiant - Tag

Dragonheart Pirkko - Tag

Saoirse the Flame - Tag

Pact Admiral Mai Trin - Tag

Tideturners AU

The Sidewinder - Page | Tag

Grand High Sovereign Ruju - Tag

       1: “Red Alert”

Timey’s AU Collection, in Summary

Regrowth AU: What Would You Do For a Second Chance?

Even Elder Dragons have limits. And as it happens, a being whose power relies on life has no hold on the realm of the dead. In the Domain of the Lost, a spirit awakens for the first time in many years. For a time, she spends her penance leading those that her actions sent to their graves too early-- but that would never be enough to satisfy Scarlet Briar. It’s too slow. Too tedious... Too boring. And she isn’t prepared to spend all of eternity tending to spirits who hate her for choices she never would have made of her own volition.

So when a stranger reaches through the Mists seeking her guidance and her power in a new alliance, Scarlet accepts-- and finds her spirit anchored to a rather unconventional ex-mordrem revenant. But the world has changed a great deal in her absence, and thanks to their new goal... It’s about to change a whole lot more. They’re both going to make quite sure of that.

Tyria isn’t the only thing that’s going to change, though. Ceara hasn’t been herself in a long, long time... And now, without the dragon’s influence crushing her sense of self, she’s finally free to rediscover the person she should have been. Maybe there’s still time to reclaim her legacy after all.

If she can avoid almost destroying the world (again), that is...

Flourish AU: What If One Choice Could Change the World?

Sometimes all it takes is a few words in the right place at the right time... A moment of solidarity that by all rights, never should have happened. But the Dream works in mysterious ways, and as echoes rippled across the Mists from distant worlds, it learned of a different future and an unexpected outcome. All it took was a single, subtle nudge to set the ball rolling, and so it did.

On that fateful day in the Grove, Caithe never would have thought to ask the inquisitive sylvari what she was working on. But, just this once, the Dream did.

Curiosity was repaid in kind. A repaired healing device was left in the infirmary, its Secondborn donator unspoken but well-known. Beginning to recognize the value of Ceara’s peculiar research, others began to quietly peek at the budding scientist as she worked. And while she might never have been a social butterfly, the acceptance warmed her heart of ice into something far softer. She didn’t have to choose between her dream and the Dream. And even if she left the Grove far behind... Perhaps she didn’t have to cut it off entirely.

And that was all she’d ever truly needed; the opportunity of choice.

Ceara never left the Dream, not entirely. She listened to its advice, following when it suited her and forging a unique path all her own. She became not an engineer, but a thief, following in the footsteps of her new mentor. When Saoirse needed her advice, she was still in the Grove to provide it. The world changed, slowly but surely, one altered life at a time.

The Dream’s grand design came to pass. Three champions would rise like stars, facing the dragons together. Heart, Mind, and Soul... Pirkko, Ceara, and Saoirse, from the Priory, Whispers, and Vigil. A bold new future awaited-- a future where the horrors of Scarlet’s Alliance would never be known, for there had never even been a Scarlet Briar to lead it.

But the greater their success, the lusher their world...

And the higher the flames would burn when it all ignited.

Tideturners AU: What Happens When There is No Hero?

Mai Trin wasn’t born to be a hero. That was supposed to be Ruju’s job. He was the one who would become the Commander, leading unlikely alliances to victory time and time again to save his world from the draconic plight. He was strong, and relentless, and brave, and intelligent. He was always meant to be a leader.

But his heart was just as cold and dead as the biomechanical minions he commanded in battle, and the future he would create was not a kind one.

He was invited aboard Scarlet’s Alliance, but this would prove a deadly error; Commander Ruju made no differentiation between a willing dragon minion and a rebelling one. Scarlet Briar was claimed by his blade in the dead of night, and the rest were left with a brutal choice: fall in line, or share her fate. Mai, realizing this was no longer the alliance she had once believed in, took her Aetherblades and fled into the Mists.

But the Grand High Sovereign’s rampage did not end. He blazed a devastating trail of bloodshed across the Tyrian continent, wiping away all that dared stand in his path. With every fallen foe, his army only continued to grow. Dragons were crushed by brute force, and magic poured into the increasingly unstable fabric of reality. With every passing day there was less left to save.

Mai Trin wasn’t born to be a hero. She never would have chosen that role for herself-- and whether that was what she became would be debated by many. But she was meant to be a leader, and if Ruju would not be the one her Tyria needed, she was the only one left who could. Alliances were forged, civilians were evacuated, and a mask was donned; she was no longer Mai Trin. She was the Sidewinder, and their hidden Turnabout deep in the Mists would offer a second chance to those who had nowhere else left to go. As the years passed, it became the stuff of legend, a tale of hope and renewal even in the face of impossible odds.

Their world is long-gone now, nothing but haunted memories in the minds of those precious few who escaped alive. But the Tideturners remain, one last refuge against a Commander who decided the world wasn’t worth saving. He won’t save them, so they’ll save themselves instead.

“We're the Tideturners, and we won’t be washed away.”

[mistfallengw2]

Spoilers from SotO below, first impressions ramble time

Tl;dr: Mixed opinions about story. Hope they won't flunk the landing after setting up neat stuff. Gameplay and rest is all fine. (Exes theory?)

Story was... okay, I guess? 🤷 It's the typical "that part where stuff goes bad before the final part" of other expansions, so it fit my expectations for the most part, so I'm not unhappy. Granted, I wanted a bit more meat cuz I feel a bit starved rn, so now I'm just gonna hope the final release will have as much meaty substance as the amounts of it scattered around this expansion's maps, because it's not bad, just... not as good as they can clearly make it. I'm really hoping it's just teething pain of the new expansion structure and that the next one will be more well-rounded, but honestly? I'm not sure they're gonna catch all threads they've woven so far this far into this expansion. Like, I'm perfectly fine with waiting and the setups are all juicy stuff, but the lack of payoffs or further building on the setups is killing my interest a tad (kryptis civil war is fine, but I want to see more astral ward stuff that was interesting (because I want to tear a bunch of it down along with the old bald blueberry if he says one more shitty thing)). The interesting stuff done in the first part WAS GOOD, and just... Come on! I want to love it even if it wasn't my jam at first (I'm a diehard dragon saga fan), not feel "eh it was okay" when thinking about it :/ Anyway, one interesting thing coming out of this chapter might be the fact that Eparch seems to have genuinely loved his queen, and no one in the audience™ expected that. Maybe in the final update he'll get built up in a more interesting way than he's been so far (not at redeemable levels, but more than... faceless tyrant who is way too much into royal roleplay and vore?), given we've known him only through perspectives that are defiant or more-or-less fearfully devoted. I just hope it's not gonna be another missed chance .-.

Onto the good part, map and meta are more of the first part of Nayos, which is nice for me (I like the aesthetic and vibe, and the fairly-mindless continuous grind of events is good whenever my brain does the funkies). Might need some tuning and fixing in some places, but it's quite enjoyable in the "map you can both grind away or do quickly" kind of way. I love the little houses around the place and I hereby declare that all chonky lil' kryptis are under my protection, and I'll be soon looking into legal adoption. Now to delve into legy armor crafting, playing around with the new weapons and all that, since that and gameplay in general kinda seemed to be the main servings of this patch. That part I'm ready for, and I may have the medium set mostly pre-farmed already oops.

And last, THEORY TIME: Isgarren and Eparch do feel kinda similar, not just for the rig, but specifically in that way of bitter exes who can't even stay in the same realm of existence because the other is too similar to them for comfort. Tell us what you're hiding, you old pair of farts >:T This whole Astral Ward vs Kryptis thing derived from their break-up, fight me about it >:V

[ministarfruit]

aa6 spoilers //

hi i would like to make some minor corrections to 6-3. datz for prosecution co-counsel. what would this change? absolutely nothing I just think it would be very funny

[ewingstan]

Congratulations on vanquishing the worm. Any thoughts on the Ending/ Last arc and wrap-up?

I put most of my thoughts on Speck in my last post, but to summarize my thoughts on the epilogues: I like where most of the characters ended up. Dragon and Defiant's story was weird and twisty and honestly was the thing that got me invested in them as a pairing. I was happy to see Satyr make a reappearance, even if I wanted more of an explanation of what he was doing in Cauldron. Glastig Uaine/Valkyrie/Ciara’s journey towards heroism is a good setup of how the new world of heroes works after the Gold Morning.

I most enjoyed how Aisha and Rachel were left in a good place; both went from very isolated characters to people who have a stable network around them. It doesn't feel like a repeated beat either, as it solves different problems for each character: Aisha went from being ignored by others and pulled around by her brother to having people who love and depend on her. Rachel, meanwhile, went from being misunderstood and prone to driving others away to having a whole community of people she can feel comfortable around. Wildbow did some great stuff with both these characters in the final few arcs, and I feel like he puts a bow on them both beautifully.

My biggest problem is with the character it feels like he threw out. I know its an established trope in Worm that characters die without much fanfare, and there's some great posts about how that helps contribute to the tone and feel of the world, but....man, Grue deserved more of a sendoff. We shouldn't have learned he died in the same moment they were eulogizing two other characters. Keeping it from Taylor makes sense, but that doesn't mean the audience didn't need to know about it until the last moment. Having an interlude devoted to him on the oil rig, or even some more development of how he was doing after Taylor left the Undersiders, would have helped prevent it from feeling like one of the most important characters in the first half of the story got shuffled off.

As for Taylor’s ultimate end....I'm not sure how I feel. I think it was well executed for what it was, and I can’t honestly say I’d prefer for Taylor to be dead. It feels good for her to just breathe for a bit, even if it’s heartbreaking for her not to be able to give a final sendoff to the Undersiders. I’ve heard mixed things about whether Wildbow intended the audience to believe she was actually in Earth Aleph or whether she’s in a coma, and I think I’m okay with there being some ambiguity there. Honestly I’d love to hear other’s opinion on that particular beat.

[justauthoring]

The Long Wait

Prompt: Eventually, the hoping became too much to bare. Requested by: no one.

A/N: This is basically a remake of this fic -- upon re-watching the GMG arc with my mom, I couldn’t help but look back at this fic and realize how much more I could’ve done with it. Thus, this was born. Pairing: Gray Fullbuster x F!Reader

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Keeping your gaze trained to the ground, you absolutely refuse to look up -- because you know that if you did, your heart would break all over again.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, words jumbled together, voice quiet that if the guild hall was so completely silent, they definitely wouldn’t have heard you. But they do, and they falter at the way you sound so absolutely broken. And of course, all of them were, but there was something different about the way you sounded -- it was like you were defeated. 

Macao steps towards her, you hear it rather then see it, and can imagine his hand stretched out towards you, trying to placate you. “Y/N, we understand--” and he halts, voice catching in the back of his throat. “We understand more then anyone how you feel, but--”

“It’s different.” You find yourself cutting in, voice sharp, and you wince at yourself because you sound so incredibly selfish and rude. Who were you to say that your pain was any different from theirs? Any worse? But, still, you continue, your emotions getting the better of you. “It’s just... different. I... I can’t be here knowing they’re... he’s gone.”

“Y/N-nee, we don’t know that they’re gone!”

Your eyes fall shut at the sound of Romeo’s voice.

“We have to keep searching for them,” he argues, defiant, adamantly shaking his head. “They’re somewhere out there, I know that. And Gray wouldn’t--”

“They’re gone,” you hiss, interrupting him and finally glancing up to regard your friends, your family. They rear back at your harsh words, and that guilt festers even deeper inside of your chest, with the way they’re looking at you. Jet and Droy look near tears, and you know they’re thinking of Levy. And Bisca and Alzack look in shock at your outburst, you’re usually so quiet and calm. Macao looks angry, and the rest just stare at you, varying reactions that all mesh together.

Because really, it’s the way Romeo looks at you, still so young, so full hope as your words basically slap him in the face.

But you’re too far gone now, and there’s no stopping you.

“It’s been two years,” you continue, voice softer but still cutting, still hurtful. “They’re not coming back. They’re never coming back.”

He’s never coming back.

They don’t respond. No one argues, even if some look like they might. Maybe they’re understanding, maybe they’re finally getting it -- it’s been too long now and no one from the island is coming back. You’d been hopeful at first, you’d been like Romeo -- you’d refused to lose hope. But your heart is broken and there’s no mending it and you can’t keep staring at those doors all day expecting, hoping, praying that he’ll walk through them only for him never to.

So, you turn, nothing but a soft, sorrowful, pathetic apology leaving your lips as you turn your backs on your friends and leave them.

And as you turn, you see his familiar face, the dark black of his hair, that drawling smirk on his lips, and his cold, but always soft when directed at you eyes looking at you, but when you blink, he’s gone.

-

You huff at the weight dropped around your shoulders, inhaling deeply when you see a familiar puff of blonde hair.

“Did you hear?”

You don’t need to ask what he means. It’s pretty obvious.

“Fairy Tail will be competing again this year.”

When you turn to look at Sting, he’s smirking -- all bright eyed and giddy, and you hold back your own snark as you regard him with a small nod. Sting was one of the few to know of the fact that you used to be part of Fairy Tail -- him and Rogue, given that they were the ones who recruited you, and then the master as well.

It wasn’t news you were eager for everyone to know. Fairy Tail was a laughing stock in all respects now, but Sabertooth seemed to have a particular fondness of mocking the way the guild had fallen. And it was easy to hide you’d ever been apart of it given you hadn’t been a particularly well-known mage back when you’d been a member. Your powers were relatively new, and with, regrettably, the help of the Twin Dragon slayers you’d definitely grown in aspects of strength.

Three years since you’d joined Sabertooth -- two years of training on your own, and three of being surrounded by much stronger mages had you adapting and constantly changing. You were practically unrecognizable.

You were known at Y/N of Sabertooth now, and it was like the Y/N of Fairy Tail never even existed at all.

“I’m surprised,” you hum, shifting as Sting moves to take a seat next to you, still whilst having an arm draped over your arm. You blink at the sudden arrival of Rogue, not having heard him, as he takes a seat in front of you, before continuing. “They weren’t in it last year, or the year before if I remember. After finishing last every year before.”

You hadn’t been apart of Sabertooth’s team, but you do remember watching.

It had been... hard, to say the least.

“Ah, well, this year they have a new team.” Rogue explains blandly.

“New members, you should say,” Sting smirks.

Brows furrowed, you shake your head at their words, confusion flooding at you at the particular gleefulness of Sting’s expression. He always got a kick out of embarrassing other teams, not even just Fairy Tail, but there was something different about the way his eyes sparkled.

Sting meets your gaze, and without wavering, adds; “or should I say, old?”

Your breath catches, and even as your mind starts spinning, you’re all too aware of the way both Sting and Rogue are watching you carefully.

You turn from Rogue to Sting, and absolutely hate the gleam in the latter’s eyes as he smirks down at you. Keeping a tight hold on you, he pulls you closer, leaning until he’s a breaths away; “it’s a good thing I managed to convince the Master to let you on the team this year, Y/N,” he grins widely, “you’ll get to reunite with your old pales.”

That... that couldn’t be possible.

They were--They were dead. They are dead.

“I... I need some fresh air.” Shoving Sting’s arm off of you, you ignore his calls and his merciless laughter as you stock out the guild doors, bypassing Minerva which you know will get you in shit later. You don’t really care in that moment, you can’t even think straight, you need air. 

You need to breathe.

Sting must be lying. He has to be lying. There’s... they were dead, it’s been seven years.

Seven years.

How... why now? Why after all this time?

And you convince yourself he isn’t lying. You ignore Sting every time he tries to talk to you, and focus on training. It would be no good if you failed since you were on the roster this year -- Master would kill you if you failed to impress him and keep Sabertooth at the very top. And it’s easy enough to do, spend all your time training, pushing yourself to the brink, until it’s a few days before the games and you realize, Sting wasn’t lying.

You’d been trying to ignore it, ignore the urge, but eventually you give in and find yourself in the city of Magnolia. A place you haven’t been in a long time.

Fairy Tail’s location had changed, but you’d made sure to keep tabs on them. You never showed your face, mainly because you knew that in the end, you’d betrayed your friends. In their eyes, you assumed, you were the enemy, a traitor. You’d left them, left your guild in a time they’d needed you most, and almost instantly regretted it.

But every time you tried to go back, every time you made your way towards those doors, you’d remember the words you’d said -- “They’re not coming back. They’re never coming back.” -- and, like a coward, you were never able to face them.

From the moment you’d left, all you’d wanted to do was go back but it was too late for that now. And so you settled for keeping tabs, helping them where you could, always in secret -- you knew how they owed money, and you didn’t have a lot, but you always anonymously send some the guild’s way in hopes of helping. Sabertooth would kill you if they found out, specifically Sting, but it was your way of repaying all the hurt you must’ve caused them.

It’s why you know their new location. And, without even being there for more then five minutes, you see them.

A blue flying cat, followed by a white one, a tuff of pink hair, red hair, blue hair, blonde and most importantly, him. His dark hair, the fact that nothing’s changed and he looks exactly like he had those seven years ago when you’d wished him good luck on the S Class competition, and pressed a shy, chaste kiss to his cheek, the two of you blushing madly as he left, waving you goodbye.

But, they were there. He was there.

-

“And last but certainly not least, is the team that came first in the preliminaries... that’s right, you know them, you love them! Now, get on your feet and scream for the most powerful guild in all Fiore! The one and only, Sabertooth!”

You wince at the cheering, two steps behind everyone else as Sting makes his grand entrance, looking thoroughly most pleased and proud of himself then anyone else. However, even you can see the smirk on Rufus’ and Orga’s face. 

If anything, it’s you and Rogue that don’t look all that excited.

And you, for a specific reason. One that stares you right in the face the second you walk into the arena.

Elfman, Erza, Lucy, Natsu, but more importantly, Gray all look at you the second your team arrives. You can even feel Fairy Tail team B, and the rest of the guild up in the stands watching you and only you. You also notice with disdain that Sting had purposefully made way for you to be seen, even if you hadn’t been that hidden, you would’ve rather remained in the shadows.

That, and you’re not exactly sure what to say as they all stare at you.

“Y/N?!”

It’s Natsu who yells it, but it’s Lucy who steps towards you, baffled and confused; “Y/N, what’re you...”

But you only lower your gaze, eyes falling shut as Sting pulls you into his side, laughing loudly. “What a reunion!” He cheers, pumping his fist in the air, before turning to you. “Isn’t it so great to see all your old guildmates, Y/N?”

You meet their eyes, just as the announcer calls out;

“What’s this? A reunion? Could it be perhaps that Sabertooth’s own Y/N Y/L/N was once a member of Fairy Tail? What a twist on her debut in the Grand Magic Games!”

“This is so not man...”

Turning your head at the sound of Elfman’s voice, your breath catches in the back of your throat.

“Elfman,” Erza says sharply, pulling your eyes back on her and thus the rest of them, noticing with a thick swallow the way her eyes have never left your own. “I’m sure Y/N has her reasons.”

But as she stares at you, waiting for you to say something, you simply turn, walking off.

“I didn’t know you used to be in Fairy Tail,” Rufus drawls to you when you pass him, and your shoulders tighten.

That’s right... now, everyone knew.

“You never needed to know,” you say simply.

“Y/N.”

“It seems Fairy Tail’s Team A Gray Fullbuster approaches Sabertooth’s own Y/N Y/L/N, and the crowd watches in anticipation at the clear tension amongst the two of them--.”

Everything freezes. Shoulders tensing, you slowly turn, meeting Gray’s eyes -- the one you’d been specifically avoiding.

“We won’t lose.”

I know, you want to say. I don’t want you to, you want to tell him. I want Fairy Tail to win, you want to plead. But instead, knowing the eyes that watch you, you simply say; “neither will Sabertooth.”

-

This had to be some cruel joke.

Your punishment, maybe.

Sabertooth’s Y/N Y/L/N versus Fairy Tail’s Team A Gray Fullbuster

That’s what the board said, that what that God awful announcer calls with clear joy in his voice -- your first battle, the second day of the Games, and this way the turn out.

There was no way you’d win. 

Ignoring the fact that you had no doubt Gray was stronger then you -- you simply just couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not against Fairy Tail and certainly not against Gray.

“Good luck, Y/N,” Sting calls as you move to make your way towards the arena. “Though I doubt you’ll need it.”

You hate his words, hate the way he knows, hate the way he seems to get such joy out of everything that had happened. This was his fault. His fucking fault that you were here, and that this was happening.

Though, of course, even you knew that was true.

“Sabertooth’s Y/N Y/L/N has never been apart of Sabertooth’s team, but we can expect something great from Fiore’s strongest guild, needless to say. Do you know anything about Y/N Y/L/N, Yajima-san?”

“I don’t know much about Y/’N now, but in her Fairy Tail days, she never really made a name for herself, but I do distinctly remember her powers being incredibly unique.”

“Ah! A mystery then. And of course, Fairy Tail’s Gray Fullbuster is a Ice Wizard, but after his performance in day one’s Hidden Competition, the crowd’s not too sure what to expect. Nonetheless, it should be an intense match between old guildmates now turned enemy’s.”

“Shut up,” you hiss to yourself, nails digging into the palm of your hands.

“Ah, I see you’re just as chipper as you used to be.”

Swallowing thickly, you inhale sharply as Gray comes to a stop a few feet before you. It’s closest you’ve been to him since that first day, and more importantly, then in seven years. You’d already known since that day, but he really does look exactly like he had that day. Hasn’t aged a day. You don’t know the story, you don’t know how he’s back, but you know you’ve heard the term ‘seven year blank’ echoing around.

That makes more sense as you stare at him now.

Still eighteen, you’re now older then him then a year younger like you had been before. 

Remaining silent, your head tilts back, where you know Sabertooth is, chest tightening.

“Y/N.”

Turning to Gray at the sound of your name, your lips part when you noticed the way his eyes have softened, even if only a little, like he caught something in the past moment you’d turned away from him. He looks so much more... concerned then he had the first day, and that was only yesterday. When he’d called for you, he’d looked so angry...

Now, he only looked worried.

“What happened?”

Swallowing thickly, you try to appear unbothered. “I left.”

“There’s more to it, I know there is,” Gray shakes his head, “the others told us about the day--”

Eyes clenching shut, a simply jerk of your head has Gray flying back. It causes a roar of gasps, surprise and anticipation in the thought that the fight is finally starting. But you know, unlike them, that it won’t get farther then that -- at least not from your end.

Gray hisses, slowly crawling to his feet, before he smirks at you; “you’ve gotten strong.”

“It’s been seven years.”

“Still,” he shrugs, stopping before you once again. “You have control now.”

You shrug, mimicking him with a smirk, “it’s been seven years.”

However, the facade falls all too quick when he takes a step towards you. Your body tenses, fists clenching as he continues to make his way towards you until he’s directly before you. He eyes you for a moment, quiet, carefully, and you nearly break then and there.

“It may have been seven years, but I know you best,” he whispers, voice low, “I know you’re lying.”

You shake your head, pushing his words away from your thoughts; “attack me.”

And he blinks, surprised; “what?”

“I need you to attack me,” you repeat, keeping your eyes trained downwards, refusing to meet his eyes. “I... I just need you to.”

And part of you expects him to -- you deserve it, you know, after all you’d done.

But, a second later, Gray’s stepping back, pulling your wide eyes on him as he shakes his head; “Fairy Tail doesn’t attack their own friends, Y/N. You know that.” And your breath hitches when his hand moves to raise.

“No!” You yell, before you can help yourself, eyes flashing a bright gold, like they had seconds before, holding Gray’s arm in place as he blinks back at you. Letting out a soft whimper, one you hope he doesn’t hear, you hold his arm in place, eyes falling shut as your own arm raises, the crowd falling eerily silent.

“I give up.”

And you knew, even as you feel the glares on your back, that there really wasn’t any other outcome that could’ve happened. You’d never hurt Gray, you knew, and you refused to hurt Fairy Tail anymore.

You were destined to lose this match.

-

“What’s so special about those fairies, huh?”

Wincing, you gasp at the squeeze on your throat, trying to suck in air that won’t come as your eyes fall on Sting’s own narrowed ones, glaring down at you. The brick of the wall behind you bites into your skin, and you know his grip will leave bruises, but even as you gasp for air and it feels like your vision is closing in on you, you have no regrets.

You never would, even if it’ll get you killed.

“What’s so fucking special about them?”

You refuse to respond, even if Sting wasn’t blocking off your air way you wouldn’t. Even if you could easily knock him away, send him flying, you don’t -- you’ll only pay for it more later.

“What’s so special about him?!”

He drops you then, and you fall to your knees with a thud, a cry leaving your lips as he sends a sharp kick to your gut, causing you to double over. It takes you a moment, a solid minute to catch your breath, and even then you’re still gasping, voice raspy as you raise your chin, eyes narrowing as you say the words you’ve been wanting to say to Sting for years.

“Fairy Tail is the guild Sabertooth could never be,” you hiss, your voice pathetic but your gaze menacing. “And Gray is a better man than you’ll ever be. All of them are. You’ll never be as good as Natsu.” You hit him where you know it hurts, the words having been on the tip of your tongue for years but you’d always held back in fear of what would happen.

Well, you’re no longer afraid. You’re too far gone now.

Sting’s eyes narrow and his face twists, ready to explode, before he breathes, and a smirk curls onto his lips. “You’ll never be apart of your pathetic guild again,” he hisses, “you’ll be stuck in Sabertooth for the rest of your life. Only, Master will make sure your life is a living hell.”

He sends another sharp kick at your side, but says nothing more as he turns, walking off with a huff.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself, slowly pushing yourself up to your knees where you stay, chest heaving, the pain radiating across your entire body, fingers finding your neck and touching the offended skin gently as you hiss in response.

You didn’t regret surrendering, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of what would happen when you walked into the inn that night.

You never should’ve left Fairy Tail. It was a regret you’d probably take to your grave.

“We actually have points thanks to you.”

Blinking at the sound of Gray’s voice, you slowly glance up at him, arm still wrapped tightly around your stomach as you stare up at him.

“I’m glad,” you whisper, smiling gently, “Fairy Tail deserves to win.”

Gray sighs, and stepping towards you, he reaches a hand out; “here,” he says softly, voice a mere whisper. You meet his eyes, before glancing at his hand for a moment, slowly slipping your own in it. He helps you to your feet, holding you up as you waver, hissing in pain, and then, before you know it, before you can even help yourself, you fall against him, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you let out a whimper.

“You know,” Gray says after a moment, “I still remember that kiss.”

Shaking your head, you let out a quiet, somewhat forced laugh.

“What happened, Y/N?”

“You were gone,” you whisper, finally answering. “You all were, but you were too. And... And I couldn’t handle staring at those doors everyday waiting for you to walk through them, only for you never to.” Pulling back, you meet his eyes, “I love you, I wanted to tell you that day, and it crushed me that I never did.”

Hands falling on your waist, Gray shakes his head; “no one would tell me where you were when we came back. It’s like every time I asked, this look would come over them and everyone would fall silent. When I learned it had been seven years, I wanted to see you first and tell you... tell you, I love you too.”

Biting your lip, “it’s too late,” you whisper. “The others must hate me and I... Sting will never let me leave.”

Gray’s grip tightens. “They don’t hate you, Y/N. Everyone misses you. I miss you,” and then, he shifts, cupping your cheek to pull your eyes on his own again. “I need you to come back.”

“But... Sting--”

“We’ll figure it out, Master will figure it out,” Gray argues, shaking his head. “The Guild needs you. I need you.”

Lips parting, you try to find the words, only to realize there are none. So, instead, you simply fall into his arms, holding him tight against you and hold on to his promise.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

----------------------------

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

------------------------

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

-----------------------------

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[thevindicativevordan]

On Kong Kenan/Super-Man

It should've been him. He should've been the Superman of 5G/Future State/right now not Jon, and he should be the one getting an HBO Max series not Val. Hell he should be getting a movie!

God this dude is literally the best legacy character Superman has ever gotten, wholly his own person with his own lore and status quo while still building on the idea of "Superman". I am so pissed at DC for essentially just dropping him after his ongoing ended, what the hell Lee? You keep trying to make the Wildstorm characters happen, I need you to get my man Yang another Kenan book.

Have to admit I was a bit nervous at first about whether or not Kenan would be a worthwhile character. Yang's New 52 Superman run had been a disappointment to me overall, with only the the arc where Superman has underground wrestling matches against forgotten gods really sticking with me. Now he was introducing a brand new Superman? Didn't feel like he had "earned" that yet. But from the first issue I was hooked on this new character.

Kenan was unlike any other member of the Superfamily. He wasn't kind or sweet, he was an asshole! He was a bully! He was fantastic! Right from the start Kenan was set up to undergo a very different kind of character journey than the other members of the Superfamily. Empathy, humility, respect for people weaker than himself, these are all traits most heroes wearing the S-shield already posses by the time they first don the crest, but not Kenan.

Like all bullies he was even a bit of a coward himself at first, trying to bail on the experiment meant to give him Superman's powers right as it begins. After "saving" Lixin (the kid he bullies and steals lunch from every day) from Blue Condor he demands all the money Lixin has on him as payment. He's not courageous or selfless either at the start, Kenan is as much of an opposite of Superman as you can get short of being Bizarro. Learning the appeal of these traits formed the basis for his growth over the course of his series.

Seeing Yang bring in a lot of recognizable "Superman" elements in the series, but with a twist, was also great. Kenan is the one who bullies "Luo Lixin" rather than the traditional Clark/Lex friendship of Pre-Crisis and Birthright. Initially Kenan develops a crush on intrepid reporter for Primetime Shanghai, Laney Lan, but she dismisses him as too young and Kenan eventually ends up pursuing Avery Ho (Flash) instead. Baxi the Bat-Man of China has a similar relationship with Kenan as the traditional Superman/Batman in terms of being vitriolic best buds, however Baxi is the one who has the most respect for authority while Kenan is the rebel. Kenan is a part of the "Justice League of China" which does not meet with the approval of the already established Chinese superheroes, the Great Ten. That contrasts nicely with the good relationship the Justice Society and Justice League have, as well as seeing Yang lampshade the "Chinese copy" trope and incorporate that into his storytelling.

One of the funniest differences is how Kenan chooses to immediately reveal his identity as Super-Man to the world by taking off the compliance visor he was forced to wear, contrasting with Clark's choice to hide his identity. He was so eager to impress people that he never gave any thought to the danger he could put himself or his family in by revealing his identity until it was too late, something Clark is well aware of and has taken great pains to keep his identity secret. Was a missed opportunity for DC to have Kenan comment on Clark copying him for once when he outed himself under Bendis.

But one of the most poignant differences between Clark and Kenan is the gulf in separation between their relationship with their parents. Clark has a loving relationship with Ma and Pa Kent, trying to live up to their lessons as best he can. In contrast Kenan's mom was believed to have died in an airplane crash when he was just a child, and he never really knew her. His father was distant from him after that and the two weren't really close despite Kenan's attempts to impress him. So Kenan lacks that strong connection while still clearly loving both of them.

Pa Kent's death is one of the most tragic examples of Clark's love for his parents, and I've always been a fan of takes where Clark promises his father to fight for the powerless on Pa's deathbed. Kenan gets a similar scene at the start of his career, his dad "dies" (after being exposed as Flying General Dragon, a pro-democracy "supervillain" from the Chinese authorities perspective) and wants Kenan to promise he'll fight for Truth, Justice, and Democracy. But because Kenan's dad never really bonded with him, Kenan doesn't know what those mean, and can only promise that he never wants to see people die, something his father takes comfort in at least. In classic comic book fashion it's revealed that Dr. Omen, Kenan's "boss" and the one who gave him his powers, saved Kenan's father, because she is Kenan's mother! Kenan's relationship with his parents forms a lot of the crux of his character arc, and seeing how Yang utilizes the classic Superman concept of family kept the storytelling exciting.

Yang's brilliant exploration of the concept of "Superman" through the prism of Chinese culture was a great way to differentiate Kenan as well.

I absolutely freaking love how he tied to the concept of Qi to the S-shield in particular. Connecting the shape of the shield with the way Kenan has acquired his powers along the path of the Bagua (eight trigrams used in Taoism that represent the fundamental principles of reality), with his octagon S-shield outline representing all eight principles together, was mindblowing! So was the idea of restricting Kenan's access to his powers unless he was actually acting in a Superman manner, that tied his character growth to his power growth in an entertaining manner. There were so many characters and concepts that meshed Chinese and DC lore together, like how Emperor Super-Man was Kenan's "Doomsday", they even recreated that iconic dual kill shot! The Chinese Wonder Woman Peng Deilan, being based on the Chinese Legend of the White Snake! There was even some Korean mythology referenced with the Aqua-Man member of the JLC "Dragonson".

Yang also managed to do a Superman Blue/Superman Red story with Super-Man Yin/Super-Man Yang!

Shameful that it took me a while to realize what Gene Yang was doing but once I caught on I was touched. You can tell how much Yang loved Superman and his mythology, and how he was excited to incorporate as much from Clark as he could, while still using it in a way that was solidly Kenan's. And not just Superman's mythology, but the history and lore of the entire DC Universe. I-Ching got to be brought in, fleshed out, and used as Kenan's mentor! The "Yellow Peril" villain from Detective Comics #1, the comic DC gets its name from was brought in and revamped as I-Ching's twin brother All-Yang! Hats off to Yang for taking a racist caricature and attempting to make him into something more.

This series was a beautiful attempt by Gene Yang to build a space for Asian heroes and villains where they could be more than stereotypes, Kenan himself being a defiant mold-breaker in every regard as the complete opposite of most Asian characters in Western media (a jock, a bully, loves his dad but not on great terms with him, a powerhouse as a hero, etc). So much thought and hard work was poured into this by Yang and his team of artist collaborators.

Especially the costumes, man Kenan had so many great looks. From his starting outfit (which is my favorite Superman variant not worn by Clark himself), to the one with the Yin/Yang shield he acquired later on, to his Super-Man Yin & Super-Man Yang outfits, Kenan looked damn cool. Part of me is bummed they didn't go with the Chinese character shield they toyed around with, but I loved how Yang used the "s-shield" as a plot point, so I'm not too broken up over it.

All that great work Yang did to build that space up has been more or less forgotten sadly. It was nice to see Kenan in the DC Asian Month Celebration issue. Avery is going to be in Justice Incarnate at least (unsurprising considering she was created by Williamson). So fucking bummed that Superman Family Adventures cartoon didn't happen, they were going to have Kenan and John Henry Irons in it! Would've been a dream come true for me to see Irons in animation again, and Kenan making the jump to outside media! Maybe that would've encouraged DC to let Yang keep writing New Super-Man, or at least encouraged them to use him elsewhere instead of allowing him fall into Limbo.

Unfortunately I'm not sure what the future holds for Kenan. Jon is being pushed as Clark's replacement in the comics, with DC keeping all the other contenders such as Kon benched. Calvin is leading the Justice Incarnate team likely due to the upcoming Coates reboot that will make Clark black. Val will probably get something once Taylor leaves Jon's book or once they officially announce the HBO Max show is happening. So where does that leave Kenan, my new favorite PoC legacy hero? Currently my only hope is that Yang is working on something for DC involving him. Yang left Batman/Superman, where I was hoping to see a Baxi/Kenan team up, to go work on "exciting other opportunities" per his Twitter. So fingers crossed that there's something in the works for Kenan!

One day I hope he gets his day in the sun again.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child. 

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain. 

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.”

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve. 

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas. 

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed. 

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

 “You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her. 

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared. 

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

-----------

You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

[happyandticklish]

Wheels & Squeals

Notes: After only a millennia, I have returned with a request. For the anon ask. The link to the one-shot got messed up for some reason, so I couldn’t access it after the first time you sent it, so this is more loosely based off that request. I decided to just kind of go off the whole tandem thing. I hope you enjoy it despite that! ^^

Summary: David decides to throw a tandem race for the camp after the AC goes out, and Harrison’s path takes an unexpected detour. 

“This is so lame,” Max sighed, leaning against the railing of the camp building. Harrison peaked over from where he was polishing his bike, frowning a little.

“What do you mean?”

The whole camp was gathered in the main field, a series of bikes assorted over the grass. They were old and decrepit, definitely not a comfortable state for a vehicle you’re about to ride on. Max was rebelling against the process, leaving his bike fallen over on the ground in favor of hanging on the porch. Harrison sat besides him, bike stood in front of him as he ran a rag over its side. At Max’s words, he pulled his hand back a little guiltily.

“This whole thing is lame, really,” Max continued, irritation coloring his tone. “David just feels bad because the AC is down in the building and the whole camp’s been complaining all day. As if somehow throwing a fucking tandem bike race is going to help with the lack of air conditioning.”

“I don’t know,” Harrison added doubtfully. “I think it might be kind of fun.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think riding a bike in the middle of July, in a race where the prize is ‘inner self-gratification’ is going to be fun?”

Harrison’s shoulders shrunk in and he pressed his lips together, not wanting to reply for fear of further biting comments. In truth, he did think it would be nice. It was rare that the camp ever held official activities—more often than not it was some cobbled together excuse to make chores fun—so this was a nice change of pace in his opinion.

“Are you cleaning it?”

Harrison startled, glancing up at the new voice. Nerris was staring down at him curiously, her gaze flickering between his hand clutching the rag and his face.

“O-Oh, uh, yeah,” Harrison agreed, wringing the rag tighter. “I thought it might make it look nicer. When we ride it, that is.”

“Ohhh, cool!” Nerris kneeled down besides him, shoving a bit into his personal space. “I was thinking we could paint scales on it, and put eyes where the handles are! You know, to make it look like a dragon? Or maybe flames on the side!”

Harrison flushed, scooting a bit away. Getting assigned Nerris as his partner in the race had come as a surprise, and he still wasn’t sure if it was a pleasant one or not. The two were friends, but things had become... different lately. Weird. He wasn’t sure exactly how to describe it, but he knew that it would make riding a bike course together a less than preferable experience. 

“Like David even has paint,” Max scoffed, rolling his eyes. “At least the kind that’s not dried up and tossed back in a closet somewhere, that is.”

Nerris glared at the other. “You don’t always have to have an opinion, you know. Sometimes things can just be fun.”

“Except that this isn’t fun,” Max countered. “It’s dumb and just another way for David to try to convince us that somehow this whole camp isn’t a waste of space. The sooner you accept it, the better.”

He pushed off the railing, shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling away from the two. “Later losers. Have fun being a suck-up. Call me when something actually interesting happens in this godforsaken place.”

Nerris watched him go with her arms crossed, sticking her tongue out in a defiant gesture that was rendered useless by the other’s turned back. “Hey, don’t worry about Max,” Harrison offered tentatively. “He’s probably just in a bad mood.”

“He’s always in a bad mood,” Nerris pointed out.

It was a fair point, and so Harrison decided to let the issue go. “I think there’s paints in the back shed,” he said. “For the dragon?”

Nerris smiled, accepting the subject change easily.

Several hours later, rows of bikes were lined up along the arrangement of dirt and rocks that claimed to be a pathway. A large majority of the bikes were falling apart, handles askew with flat tires. Most teams had left their bikes unchanged, however, which made it all the more noticeable when Harrison and Nerris walked up with theirs shining a bright green, a cardboard reptilian face shakily attached to the front underneath the handles.

“What in the world is that?” Preston stood aghast, eyes wide as he took in the spectacle. In contrast, his bike was neatly polished, not a speck of paint or grime on it. “It’s hideous!”

“It’s a dragon!” Nerris informed him brightly. She gripped the handle, pride shining in her eyes as she stared down at it. “Efferon the Great.”

Preston raised a brow, but before he could say anything, David’s cheery voice came ringing across the field.

“Alright everyone! The rules here are simple. Your course is outlined by the orange cones the quartermaster has helpfully laid out for you. I would ask that we all stop and thank him for his hard work, but he has declined to make an appearance today as he had other business to attend to.” There were notes of concern in his voice at what other business could be. “Instead, we’ll simply have to thank him by doing well in this race! The course leads around the camp grounds, including through the forests—which is why we’ve made this a tandem race so that everyone has a buddy to stay safe! The first to make it across the finish lines is the victor of these games.

“Of course you’re all winners in my heart,” David added sappily, clasping his hands together. “I’m sure I’ll be proud of you no matter how well you do!”

On the other side of the starting line, Max rolled his eyes, sticking his finger back in a gagging gesture. He and Neil had been partnered together, as everyone had expected. The two were practically inseparable, despite the mutual avoidance to call themselves friends. There had been a bargain to have Nikki on the team, but David had been firm about the rules of the race, and so instead Nikki chatted excitedly to Nurf who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

Harrison hesitantly climbed atop the bike, gripping the handle tightly. Nerris was quick to follow suit, with notably more enthusiasm. “We’re gonna do great! I have faith in us!”

Harrison wasn’t so sure, but her energy was contagious and he found himself tossing a nervous smile back in answer. It was just a bike course, but then, knowing Camp Campbell, it was bound to be anything but safe.

Speaking of which… “Where are the handles?” Nerris asked. She twisted around on the back seat, but handholds failed to miraculously appear.

“I… don’t think you have any.”

“What?” Nerris frowned. “What am I supposed to hold onto then?”

Harrison glanced over the rest of the campers in hopes that the answer would be amongst them. As campers climbed onto their bikes, readying themselves for the inevitable ‘Start’, he found it, though it wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for.

“I think you’re supposed to hold onto me,” Harrison mumbled, wishing once more that the race wasn’t mandatory. Anything to get away from the awkward ten to fifteen minutes this was sure to be.

“Oh.” It was possible that Nerris’s face was a tad more flushed than it was before, but that might have just been the sun. “Do you mind if I…?”

Harrison gave a jerky nod, still looking ahead and deciding that he would simply focus on the race and nothing else. His shirt tugged against him as Nerris grabbed onto the back of it. He swallowed, trying not to think about how his stomach was currently writhing with butterflies. This was Nerris, his friend—that was all. Nothing to get worked up about.

The race started with the blow of a whistle and Harrison sat there for a moment before remembering in a panic how bikes worked. He started pedaling, though the process was made more difficult with the added person. Nerris attempted to help as well, but the double pedaling was not as effective, or as easy as the two had originally planned. Harrison yelped as they began to wobble, a sudden downhill sending their bike zigzagging perilously downwards.

“Steer!” Nerris cried, wrapping her arms firmer around him now in a panic. 

That was when Harrison realized their second problem.

Oh no.

“N-Nerris!” Harrison gasped, jumping as her fingers gripped his sides tightly. “I—ah! Stop h-holding so tight, I can’t breathe!”

A lie, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit the real reason. Not when he had to stay focused on the race and when she had such easy access to his sides. He gripped the bike handle tighter, righting their path and managing to get them back on track. Several of the other teams had passed them already, but if they tried, it was possible they could make good time.

“Sorry, I’ll try to be gentler!”

Or not.

Harrison stiffened when Nerris attempted to help, her fingers crawling awkwardly around his midsection in search of a better grip. A grin wobbled its way onto Harrison’s lips and he just barely managed to swerve around a tree.

“W-Wahait!” he stammered, giggling softly and using the limited amount of space he had to squirm to try to get away from her. “Juhust n-not like thahat!”

“Not like what? Focus on where you’re driving!” Nerris watched the path anxiously as they nearly hit a rock, not paying too much attention to her hand placement. And that was when she heard the faint, stifled laughter coming from the other. She frowned at him, raising a brow. “Harrison? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!”

“Harrison, if you don’t tell me what’s up, we’re going to crash—”

With a sigh, Harrison backpedaled on the wheels, leading them over to a standstill by some bushes. Now that the momentary danger was over she let go of him, finally. Harrison wrapped his arms around himself, trying to rub away the last of the tingly sensations.

Nerris waited for a moment, and when he didn’t immediately offer up an explanation, she asked, “Well? What’s wrong?”

Harrison’s shoulders hunched forward defensively. “Sorry, sorry. It just tickled, is all. Maybe I should be in the back? I, ah, don’t think I’ll be able to finish the race if you’re… you know…” He trailed off, leaving the obvious answer unspoken.

“Oh.” Harrison sat back on the bike. By this point, almost all the bikers had passed them, shooting them weird looks as they went. “I didn’t realize you were ticklish.”

Harrison flushed, his spine prickling in nervous anticipation. “I’m not! I mean, well, obviously I am, but I just meant, everyone’s ticklish, so it’s not that weird if you think about it. Besides, we should probably just switch positions already, since everyone’s already ahead of us—gah!”

He jerked forward, nearly falling off the bike from the sudden poke to the side. He whipped his head back to see the smirk quickly forming itself on Nerris’s face. “Ah, N-Nerris? What are you—”

“I think we should test out this new bit of information,” she crowed, climbing off the bike. Harrison quickly followed suit, not wanting to be caught in such a helpless position. The bike wobbled once before falling over onto the dirt path, unnoticed by the two of them. “I just found out my friend’s ticklish, and you expect me not to take advantage of this information?”

Harrison quickly stumbled back, holding up his arms in defense. “B-But what about the race—?”

Nerris shrugged, following him and aiming pokes at his sides and stomach that he flailed wildly in an attempt to block. “This seems more interesting. Besides, you’re always so in your head, Harrison. It’ll be good for you to laugh. Think of this as a favor—Nerris’s patented stress-relief method!” She snickered a bit at the name. “I came up with it myself!”

Harrison twitched and squeaked with each poke, accidentally tripping and tumbling to the ground. Nerris took advantage of the new position, following him down and digging into his sides with merry ferocity. “See, look, you seem happier already!”

Harrison screeched, kicking his legs out frantically as he hugged his mid-section. He had hoped to keep his sensitivity a secret for much longer, but that mission was clearly failed now. He flailed for her hands, but Nerris was quick, and dodged around his flimsy attempts easily. She spidered her fingers over his belly curiously, and he snorted, curling in on himself.

“Neheheherris!” Harrison giggled, hating how easily she had taken him down, hating that he kind of didn’t mind it. “Ahaha w-wehehe’re gohohonna mihiss the r-rahahace!”

“Who cares about the race?” Nerris dismissed, scratching at his lower stomach. Harrison jumped, letting out a stream of desperate laughter as he tried to fight her off. “We both know David’s just trying to make up for the AC—Max was right about that, even if I don’t like agreeing with him. David just wanted us to have fun. And we’re having fun now, so… mission accomplished!”

“Yohohohou’re hahahahaving fuhun!” Harrison countered, finally managing to grab her wrists, though he didn’t have the strength to pull her off. “Whahahat ahahahabout mehehehe? Gah! Aiehehe, nahahat thehehere!”

He unfurled from his position when she wiggled her fingers up to his ribs, climbing them as though they were a ladder, throwing his head back in a new round of squeaky laughter. Nerris poked his ribs teasingly with a smirk. “Aren’t you having fun? You’re laughing, so you must be, right?”

Harrison wasn’t sure himself. He wanted to say no, that this was torture, but…. The unbearable sensations were oddly addicting in a way, and it was nice to laugh like this, free, and unfettered by social pressures. Being around Nerris had been awkward lately, though he couldn’t quite pin down the reason why. His stomach twisted into knots when she smiled at him, and he never knew the right thing to say. He was sure this wasn’t how it had always been with her, but he couldn’t seem to find his way back to normal. Now though, leaves in their hair and fingers flying as laughter spilled helplessly from his mouth, it felt more like before, like it was just the two of them hanging out.

Except the butterflies were still there. Only now, it wasn’t exactly bad butterflies. Harrison wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Nerris noted his silence, her eyes widening a bit. “I’m right, aren’t I? You are having fun!”

Harrison flushed, his giggles growing worse with embarrassment now, so that he could hardly get a simple protest out. “Gahahahaha, nohohohoho! I-I’m nahahahat!”

“It’s okay. I’ll just tickle you until you admit it. My skills haven’t failed me yet, and they’re not gonna start today!”

The thought of the tickling lasting anywhere long enough for him to confess something like that was more than the nervous boy could take, and his struggling increased, each touch seeming almost amplified by the threat. It was at that moment that they heard two familiar voices.

“—as if we’re actually gonna ride these stupid things,” Max was saying, walking casually with Neil down the path. The latter had one hand on the bike handle, pulling it along, but it seemed both of them had quickly given up on the idea of riding the bike at all. Max’s mouth was already contorted in a sneer of irritation as he opened his mouth to continue his rant, but he closed it again as he saw the two of them. Or rather, heard them.

“Harrison?”

“H-Hehehehelp mehehehe! Ahahahaha, ihihihihit tihihihihickles!”

Max pulled back the bush leaves, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion at the sight. “What the fuck?”

Nerris waved back at them, entirely unbothered by their presence as she flashed them a grin. “Hi guys!”

“Hey…” Max trailed off, exchanging a look with Neil. “The hell are you two doing exactly?”

“Shehehehehe’s kihihihihihilling mehehehehe!” Harrison babbled, shrieking when she managed to sneak her hands under his arms. “Nahahaha, ihihihit tihihihickles, ihihihit tihihihihickles, wahahahait!”

“Harrison’s ticklish,” Nerris clarified, not looking at them as she smirked deviously down at her victim. “Basically everywhere. I decided this would be more fun than the race, and it looks like he’s enjoying it too.”

Harrison blushed furiously, quickly going to deny the statement, but it was impossible to get any kind of coherent words out now when her nails scraped against the skin under his arms, making his nerves flare with desperation.

Neil blinked. “Right. Eh, well, I guess have fun with that. Max?”

“Yeah, coming.” Max turned away, muttering something under his breath as he shot them back odd looks. The two continued walking, leaving Harrison to watch as his one hope of rescue disappeared.

“Wahahahait! Dohohohon’t leheheheave mehehe—ack! Neheherris, quihihihit ihihihit!”

Nails skittered suddenly under his neck and he squeaked, his shoulders scrunching up to try to block her attack. Of all the spots she had tickled thus far, his neck was definitely the least sensitive, but there was something about it that made him feel vulnerable in a way the others hadn’t. And so he cracked, finally, through breathy giggles.

“Ohohohokay, Ihihihi lihihihike ihihit! Ihihi lihihihike ihihit! Stahahahahap!”

Deciding maybe he had had enough, Nerris pulled her hands away, sitting back on the ground besides him. Harrison curled up on his side, flushed, and giggly, and ultimately exhausted from the sudden attack. It was a nice kind of exhausted though, warm and comforting.

The two sat there for a moment, panting as they caught their breath again, recovering from the impromptu attack. For just a moment, it was almost peaceful.

And then.

“That was mean,” he accused, pointing a finger at her. “Tickling is definitely not in the rules of the race.”

Nerris flopped onto her side to face him, snickering at the way leaves poked out of his hair from the tussle. “We weren’t competing, so it can’t be unfair play.”

“Still.”

“Hey, you were having fun too!”

“I—” Harrison pressed his lips together, pouting in embarrassed silence, mostly because she was right. He crossed his arms, turning away from her to hide the truth written all over his face.

Nerris propped herself up on one arm, tossing him a playful look that spelled out his doom. “I’ll tickle you again if you keep being like that.”

“No, don’t—ahaha, Neheheherris!”

Neither of them finished the race that day, and though David gave them a light lecture about wandering off into the woods alone, no one really seemed to mind. Least of all, them.

[adelaidedrubman]

2,9,11,19,28,33 for the writer’s asks?

thank you amanda these were super fun ones!! sorry for the amount of times i bring up riverdale.

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

the concept i have for telling jenna and faith’s getting together story is something i feel unequipped to write, because i have the idea to do it as an epistolary work of sorts, told primarily through like, jenna’s research notes and possibly faith’s stray letters out to tracey or other folks. but it’s just such a different form of writing than i’m used to and the time it would take to orient myself to that method of storytelling is probably not worth it.

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

fine, as long as they aren’t used in a cheap, obviously there just to manufacture tension way. i’ve had plenty “find out next time on dragon ball z” moments myself. basically i think as long as you don’t make it like a riverdale episode you’re fine — if the build up feels like a natural progression of the tension and not just like you threw in a “and prom’s tomorrow!” as a cheap trick to make people hungry for more.

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

soulmate aus soulmate aus soulmate aus. i’m sure there are some compelling, beautiful pieces out there but i’ll never find out. sorry i love divorce and i love love as a free, often stupidly made choice. (unless you count my mary may is the reincarnation of biblical cain and is cosmically linked to johnjess as eternal punishment as she wanders the earth through multiple lifetimes always to encounter them thing as a soulmate au.)

also i think like, “fix it fics” are fine in theory and i enjoy some but so often the effect is just completely draining canon of everything that made it compelling and emotionally engaging in the first place. like we don’t have to jettison everything into children’s cartoon story rules to have an overall happy ending if that’s what you want to change. a lot of what those fics are fixing ain’t actually broke imo. nothing wrong with it if that’s the stakes people want, but i like a little tragedy.

also, love triangles, if i don’t trust the author and know they’ll do something meaningful and fresh with it i’m just completely disinterested. too often they’re just an excuse to put down one character or just throw a lot of toxic jealousy and possessiveness out there for The Drama™ without exploring it as an interesting theme or character flaw.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“No,” she scoffed in repetition. “No way in hell I’m ever coming back here willingly,” she spat. “This is your one get. And I’m not gonna change my clothes either, daddy,” she tacked on with a defiant upward shove of her chin, ensuring, of course, that not one request went without being spitefully disrespected. “I wore this shirt ‘cause I plan on going fishing as soon as I’m done here, in case you didn’t bother gettin’ your mind out of the gutter long enough to read and realize it’s a fishing shirt, and not everything’s about you and your stupid church club.”

“Oh, trust me I read it.”

“Pleasantly surprised to find you’re fucking literate after all. I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m missin’ the service,” she finally sneered before shoving past him towards the door.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

if you’re stuck on a project, work on something low stakes or whatever happens to scratch your brain the right way to get remotivated, try something that gives writing a renewed novelty or fills the void of whatever you think is missing in your main work. (the johnjess 100k holding hands only marathon is sustained by frequent au smut oneshots.)

and watch riverdale that’s not a joke it legit helps me i will be like “ooooooh my pacing sucks so bad it’s so slow” and “waaah my characterization is so shitty i am a flop at character nuance” and “booooo showing and not telling is stupid i hate showing and not telling” and i will watch riverdale and remember why these things are important and that i’m not completely flopping at them. i cannot stress how important it is to watch riverdale.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

i think i’m really good at threading humor throughout! like, not just the snappy banter, but the subtle ridiculousness of the characters that seeps into everything they do. like the funniest wildfire moments to me are always tiny things you could blink and miss, like the image of jessie scarfing down a bag of communion wafers like chips as she yells about the fucking gas station.