#but still!! the way that the only reason humans finally reached out to plants was because of Knives actions

[pepplemint]

I wonder genuinely how many people who think Vash is Right and Knives is Wrong is actually for peaceful information spreading as a protest of injustice vs direct action in real life matters.

There's a pretty clear comparison between plants and marginalized people in Trimax by who joins the side of the plants, so it's not a farfetched idea. I find the way the conflict is portrayed in the story with no correct answer really interesting.

[partycatty]

giggling at this idea i just thought of but would u consider... hear me out... mk1 johnny finding out that reader has a body pillow of him? like those anime ones but bcs he's a celebrity, someone made one of him too 💀 & reader secretly bought it and tried to hide it/deny it but johnny sees all fr fr

i wrote this and then it got DELETED i almost cried

johnny cage > superfan

johnny never visited your place, but now he sees why.

notes: the way i used to unironically have a bodypillow of a character i'd rather die than admit... this hits so close to home

[ masterlist ]

you and johnny were an unlikely pair in the grand scheme of things. you were a toned down worker in your own field while his face was plastered on every billboard, magazine, and teenage girl's home screens. at the end of the day, though, you were both humans in love and that's all that genuinely mattered.

johnny's arm that was slung around you as you two cuddled on his couch shakes you back to reality.

"you know what's funny?" he suddenly brings up, closing the tiktoks you were watching together. "we always come to my place. never yours. i've only ever seen the inside when i pick you up."

there wasn't a hint of annoyance or accusatory language in his voice; he was curious. as he typically is.

"i don't know," you shrug nonchalantly, hoping to get the topic over with. "your place is nicer." this was entirely true. despite downsizing after his divorce and other events he has yet to disclose to you, he still had a truly nice home. it radiated the energy of a celebrity without needing the size, but was just homey enough for you to spend your nights there when you felt like it.

"so?" his eyebrow quirks up.

"so, it's better to hang out here. my apartment isn't all that exciting, not a lot of room to do much."

"but it's the person that excites me," he replies quickly, kissing your forehead. "plus, all we usually do is sit on my couch here. what's the difference of doing it there?"

as your mouth opens and closes to try and dismiss the subject, johnny turns to face you completely with a beaming grin.

"can i come over tomorrow?" he asks, like it's your first date with him. his eyes are bright, like a kid asking for permission from his mother. you couldn't even bring yourself to look him in the eyes as you swallow hard. there wasn't necessarily a true reason to not have him over, but preparing for his arrival would take a considerable amount of effort to... redecorate. finally, you nod with a sheepish smile, and johnny plants a slap-like kiss to your lips as a thank you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the following morning, you were throwing your piles and piles of collectibles into boxes and shoving them into your closet. the replica of his brass knuckles or figurines of ninja mime had to go before he arrived. johnny couldn't know that on top of being his girlfriend, you were a fan. and not just any fan, a superfan. every piece of evidence had to be thrown into a corner lest you face his endless prodding and teasing. besides, even if he was a celebrity, he probably didn't expect his partner to have such belongings. it felt... wrong. but even still, you couldn't help but support him in his works!

a knock at the door makes you visibly jump as you're kicking the last of the merch under your couch. wiping your hands, you race to the front door and take a deep breath, making sure you plugged in your wall scents and lit your candles. you swing it open and johnny peeks his head in, glancing around with his typical grin. he puts his sunglasses atop his head to adjust to the indoor lighting, a curious glint in his eye.

"i don't know what you were talking about," johnny finally says, hands on his hips. "it's nice here. quaint."

"i think that's just calling me poor politely," you reply as you fight a smirk. johnny tenses up, already apologetic before you reach up to kiss his check. "i'm teasing, dear. now what?"

"a movie?"

"not one of yours."

"we didn't even finish citizen cage last time!"

you roll your eyes at his puppy-like stare. you immediately cave in with a huff. as his own version of a thank you, johnny swoops over and picks you up, sure to support your ass more than your thighs as they wrap around his waist. he shoots you a devious grin, as if to say "i can't help it!"

you're playfully tossed onto the couch, and you have just enough time to chuck a throw pillow in his direction as he heads toward your bedroom.

"i'm stealing your comforter," he announces. "since i don't see a regular blanket around here." you gulp, remembering your johnny cage themed throw blanket that once laid on that very couch. thankfully, it's buried under your other laundry.

"not everyone has blankets for every occasion!" you shout back, settling into your new spot and allocating space for his large body. that is, until you hear eruptive laughter come from your room. of course it was johnny, but the laugh was so hysterical, so out of character, you partially wondered if he had gotten possessed. "babe?" as you're about to rise from your spot, johnny responds in an unusually high pitched voice, strained from the cackling.

"why do you have this?!" his grin is audible, dripping from his upward inflection. your stomach drops, but you try to play dumb in case it's not what you expect.

"have what?" your voice is low, unwilling to give anything away. your question is answered when johnny emerges from the hallway, holding up your dakimakura with one hand, slung around its painted shoulder.

your face heats up in record time. it's a drawing - a realistic one - of johnny, laying down. the other side features the same, except blushing and only in boxers. you must have forgot to fully hide it, and left it on your bed like a fool. and what a fool you were for thinking a simple blanket would conceal it. times like these you wish you could afford a throw blanket to bury yourself in it and hope he'd go away.

"if you wanted me in your bed, you could've just asked," he giggles to himself, admiring the possession. "hey, at least they got my features right."

"please put that away before i die of embarrassment," you quietly beg, voice muffled by your head in your hands.

"really though, doll," johnny's smile doesn't disappear, just lessens. "why, of all things, do you own a bodypillow of me?"

"it was limited edition," you mutter. "the artist put it on sale."

"limited edition? you're a collector?"

shit. you sold yourself.

"maybe."

"collector of what?"

"...paraphernalia."

"i could deduce that. i won't judge you, honey." he kneels down to meet your level, putting his hands on your knees as he sets the pillow down beside you.

"i, uh... i collect things. related to you." johnny's face freezes, lip twitching in amusement as you continue to defend yourself. "i'm not weird about it, though."

"except for the pillow."

"50% went to charity!"

"touché. don't worry about it, sugar," johnny kisses your forehead. "there are worse things to collect. if anything, you're pretty lucky to have a famous boyfriend. lots of stuff to collect. you want one of my shirts? i'll sign it for you—"

"enough, enough," you giggle, swatting your hands at nothing. "this is already mortifying for me. you should see the rest—" you stop in your tracks, smile dropping in an instant.

"there's more?" as he asks, you two stare at each other in disbelief. and before you could react, he darts off to your bedroom, pushing himself off of the wall as he nearly runs into it. you shout-laugh as you follow after him.

"JOHNNY!" as you turn the corner to stand in your bedroom doorway, johnny charges at you and slings you over his shoulder. all you can do is half-resist his grip as he swings your closet door open. your legs kick against his body, and you're slapping his back. "DON'T LOOK!!"

"i can't not look!" he protests, patting your ass playfully. his hand falls to his hip as he inspects your crammed closet just as his grin widens once more. "is that a life-size ninja mime cutout?"

[rivatar]

Pandora’s Hub

Pairing: Adult!Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Scientist!reader

Warnings/content: MDNI 🔞, heavy smut, p in v, outdoor sex & recording (obvi), porn references/simulation, degradation & praising, creampie, flirty man-whore Lo’ak, squirting

A/n: Day 5 prompt (Outdoor Sex + recording) for Pandora’s Glow- hosted by @luvv4j4ybe11 @aperiraa! Sorry it’s a week late, I’ve had so much going on (graduations, weddings, birthdays, etc) but I finally finished this. And ngl it’s filthyyy hehehe🤭. Also I hope you guys get the ‘Pandora’s Hub’ = ‘Pornhub’. Idk I thought it was funny 💀

Dividers by @cafekitsune

W/c: 2.2k

It was a beautiful day on Pandora. Quietly humming to yourself, you made your way towards the forest where you would be collecting photos of many different plants to further your research. The book ‘Pandoran Botany’ that Grace Augustine wrote was literally like your Bible. You spent countless hours working with the other botanists to learn more about these plants and what they are capable of providing. Their beauty and wonder never failed to amaze you.

You’ve spent almost the past week coming out into different spots in the forest to capture photos of plants and try to identify them without looking in the book. Of course, you didn’t stray too far from the lab but each day you ventured out a little further and further, not being able to contain yourself each time you seen a new plant you’d never seen since you arrived on Pandora. But what was the harm, right?

You were crouched down in a spot, carefully focusing the camera on the details of this plant you found.

“What’re you doing out here?” A deep voice startled you, making you jump and gasp, nearly dropping the camera. You whipped around to find the source.

“Oh, Lo’ak,” you blew out a sigh of relief with your hand over your heart, “You scared the shit out of me!”

He laughed, flashing a wide and charming smile, looking at you in amusement. “Sorry, didn’t know you were so jumpy,” he teased with his hands on his hips.

You stood up from your crouch and gave him an eye roll, trying to suppress a smirk.

“Well, what are you doing?” He asked for the second time.

“Oh yeah— I’m just taking some pictures of some plants for my research,” you explained as he nodded in response. “What are you doing?” You threw the question back at him.

He tsked, “Last time I checked you’re on my terrain. Didn’t know I needed a reason to be out here.” He tilted his head at you holding your camera.

“Let me see this,” he snatched the camera out of your hand.

“Hey!” You tried to grab it back but he dangled it way above your head due to his much taller stature. “Be careful with it, Lo’ak, it’s got important stuff on there!” You scolded while jumping up and attempting to get it back. It was to no use, though.

He chuckled and seemed to enjoy teasing you. “Awww, the little human girl can’t reach. Aren’t you just pathetic?” he laughed and feigned pity, poking out his bottom lip in a fake sad expression all while holding you off with one strong arm.

He threw it up in the air and gasped to scare you, only for him to easily catch it with his large hands. Your heart dropped, not wanting the camera to shatter and lose all the photos it possessed.

“Knock it off, Lo’ak!” You shouted angrily and kicked his shin, only to make him bust out laughing.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” he kept laughing and petted your head.

“I’m not a fucking child, stop treating me like one!”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes danced around playfully.

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if he was still teasing or if it was a trick question. You just stared at him, eyes filled with anger.

He smirked and looked away from you to look at the camera, clicking through its contents.

“Hmm, these are pretty pictures,” he stated observingly, “But Eywa, you would look so much prettier in this camera” he flirted shamelessly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying not to blush. It was no secret Lo’ak has always been a huge flirt.

“Oh please, Lo. Don’t you have anything better to do than flirting with me?” You asked peering up at him with your arms crossed.

He loved you calling him his shortened nickname and how you teased him back. He liked to think you were playing hard to get. All the other girls would’ve already submitted to him by now, but what’s the fun in that?

“Nah, I don’t think I do.” He quipped. “Have you never wondered what you’d look like on here?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’re you talking about?”

“Like they do back on earth. I think dad called it ‘porn’?” He asked nonchalantly.

Your jaw fell to the ground after you nearly choked on your spit. A blush crept over your features, not being able to hide your blush this time. “Lo’ak! You pervert!” You shoved his stomach and tried acting offended that he would insinuate such a dirty idea.

He chuckled at your reaction. “How am I the perv when you’re the one blushing, huh?”

Your blush deepened, much to your dismay, and you looked down at your feet.

He squatted down to be on your level. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you are curious about it” he spoke lowly, and you swore you could feel his breath on your face. He stretched an arm out to pull the strap of your tanktop and bra down your shoulder. Your stomach did flips and you were frozen in place, unable to stop him.

“Tell me you want to,” he demanded, already feeling impatient. “I know you do, I can smell you, but tell me you want it.”

“I-I want it, please,” you gave up your fight easier than you’d like to admit.

“Hmm, good girl. I knew you had it in ya,” he praised, loving that he broke you and won. He turned his attention back to the camera in his hand and pressed a button, making a red light come on in the corner as he pointed the camera towards you.

“Hey everyone, Y/N here is gonna show us how good she can be whenever she’s not bickering like a brat or hiding in that damn lab,” he started, and you blushed and couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“No one is seeing this, Lo.” You made it clear and shook your head, looking at him and not the camera lens.

“Oh, come on! I know that but don’t ruin the fun, baby.” He laughed. His smile faded and lust clouded his eyes, darkening his expression. “Now let’s see you take those clothes off, sevin,” he rasped.

Your heart was racing and you were nervous as hell. Not only because of the thrill of doing anything sexual with this hot Na’vi man, but also the thrill of doing it in on a video?? You were sure your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

Your hands were shaking a little as your reached for the bottom of your tank top, slowly peeling it up to raise it over your head and off. Your nerves made you slower and less confident. You had the first item of clothing off at least, time to tackle the rest.

“C’mon babe, this thing won’t be able to finish our video at the pace you’re going,” he laughed behind the camera, holding it up to his face to make sure you were perfectly centered.

You huffed in frustration and wiggled your shorts and panties off in one quick tug, flinging them off to the side and unsnapped your bra in a swift move as well to be completely naked. “There! Happy?”

He lowered the camera from his face so he could fully take in the sight for his own eyes. “Fuckkkk, yes,” he groaned out deeply, reaching down to palm his tented loincloth that was aching for some relief. His eyes were hooded and ate up every inch of your naked form, licking his bottom lip in the process.

His evident approval made your confidence boost and you didn’t feel as insecure to be exposed in front of him. You rubbed your thighs together as slick coated your pussy lips, you were more than ready for whatever Lo’ak had planned in that dirty mind of his. He chuckled seeing your apparent neediness and untied his loincloth with one hand, the other hand still making sure the camera caught every inch of your glory.

His cock sprung out as the cloth fell to the ground. You couldn’t help your mouth from hanging agape, taken aback by how huge and heavy he was. It took effort to force your eyes off his beautiful erection and back up to his equally beautiful face. He motioned you with his hand. “C’mere, babe.”

You gently walked towards him, waiting for him to make a move. He reached his hand out and grabbed your tit, fiddling with your nipple between his fingers. He smiled when you couldn’t help but hum and whimper in satisfaction. Then he lowered himself in a squat to get on your level and positioned the camera to get a closeup on your boobs.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” Lo’ak said while groping them, “Truly a work of art.” He continued to get all the angles of your breasts while playing with them, making your heart speed up.

Then he lowered himself more, opting to sit on the ground in front of you. Without warning, he hiked up one of your legs and you quickly gained your balance on your standing leg, hands finding rest on top of his head. He angled the camera to get a good view of your pussy as his other hand began playing through your glistening folds, collecting all your slick on his long fingers. You whimpered above him, the rough pads of his fingers bringing much pleasure to you.

He spread your lips apart, gaining a perfect view to your little hole. Looking through the camera, he made sure this stunning view was being captured. You blushed deeply at the way you were being put on display like a pornstar, but it turned you on beyond belief.

“Such a tiny little tawtute pussy,” he hummed and looked up at your eyes, “I’m gonna fuck it so good.”

You clenched around nothing, your one standing leg suddenly growing weak and wanting to give out. “Please Lo’ak!”

“Lay down, now,” he demanded and you wasted no time in rushing your way down to the forest floor, spreading your legs wide open.

“You’re so good. What a good little slut,” he praised you. He grabbed his rock-hard dick and ran it up and down your slit, earning a moan from you. Once again, he held the camera up and made sure it was getting all of this. Your pretty self laid out on display for him and his dick starting to breach your hole. It was nearly too much for him to handle.

Pushing in slowly, you gasped at the stretch and he groaned as you sucked him in your tight walls. He pushed and pushed until he nearly bottomed out, giving you a minute to adjust to his size. “You okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned you might break in half.

“Mhmmm, go, please!” You thought it was more painful with him being still inside of you instead of moving.

He obeyed and started with some short thrusts to get you going. He knew the interspecies differences would make this nearly impossible if you and him weren’t so damn turned on right now.

Squelching noises filled the air as you took him in your pussy so well. Your noises of pleasure only encouraged him more, and he swore to himself he wouldn’t cum until you did.

“Fuck! You’re so fucking wet and tight around me,” he said breathlessly.

“Mmm, feels so good, more!!” You shamelessly begged as he sped up his thrusts.

“God you’re so good at this. Taking me so well.” he groped your tit some more with his free hand, marveling in the way they bounced around from his steady and hard thrusts.

You moaned loudly and felt your orgasm approaching as the pleasure intensified. You reached down to rub your little nub and threw your head back, screwing your face up.

“I bet you’re so wet because you like being recorded, hm? You like being a filthy whore every once and a while?” He degraded you, but he was right, and God, it only turned you on more.

“Yeah everyone, look how she’s rubbing her clit and trying so hard to cum. How pathetic,” he spoke to the ‘audience’. The thought of someone else watching this was all you needed to finish. You came hard around him.

“Fuckkkk!!” You screamed and kept rubbing your nub quickly. You felt warm liquid coat your hand and splash around.

“Holy shit!! We’ve got a squirter!” Lo’ak said in awe and surprise, continuing his thrusts but they got sloppy as his orgasm overtook him too, not being able to hold back anymore at the sight of you squirting on him.

“Shit, I’m cumming!” He announced and came inside of you, somehow finding more room in there to put his cum.

Your combined sounds of pleasure and heavy breaths rang through the air. You were both a sticky mess from sweat and cum.

He lowered the camera and ended the video, laying it to the side as he collapsed on top of you. You were both trying to catch your breath.

“Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind for what I was going today,” he joked.

You snickered. “Yeah. You’re telling me.”

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @anemonelovesfiction @professional-yapper @plantgirliewholovespandora @etherynn @nonamevenus @ladykat37 @loakstahni @zafrinaxyz @xylianasblog @xstarsdiary @itchaboi-itchyboy @neteyamsoare @strongheartneteyam @inolaphoenix @erenjaegerwifee @vogueweb (lmk if you wanna be added or removed from taglist!)

[marble-anime]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Pairing: Chobe Aza x Reader

Summary: After being sent to a deadly, monster-infested, island with well-trained samurai and devious criminals, you reunite with your one and only, Chobe Aza.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, tongue kissing, smut, oral(fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, sex outdoors, rough sex

Word Count: 2.9k

The plan was so simple. Kill the criminal you had been assigned to and meet up with the Aza brothers as quickly as possible. However, upon arriving to an island filled with monsters and mutated human-plant creatures, executing said plan turned out to be more troublesome than you expected.

Trudging through the large forest, you spotted a lake in the clearing. Rather than being muddy, murky, and moss-filled, the water was clear and blue. Almost too perfect. But with all the things you had witnessed on this island, the flawless body of water was the least shocking.

You shrugged off your clothes, opting to take a break in your search. After all, there was no hurry. You were sure that they would be fine. If you were able to adapt to the situation then your lover sure would. And assuming the two haven’t been split up, he’d keep his little brother safe just as you had during his absence.

Infiltrating the Asaemon under the guise of brother and sister. You hid him behind your last name so the connection to your troublesome partner wouldn’t be made. So they wouldn’t find out that the only reason you two were there was to save the Bandit King from execution.

You dipped your toes into the cold water before submerging your body completely. You let out a big sigh, the cool lake saving you from your own exhaustion. Even in a forest full of trees and shade, fighting criminals and monsters with the unrelenting sun beating down on you was tiring.

You ducked your head underwater and pushed your wet hair out of your face as you resurfaced. Letting go of all the tension in your body as you floated on your back. Your face, breasts, stomach, and thighs were the only parts of you that were visible to anyone outside the water.

“My, my,” you bit back a smile at the familiar voice, “is this my reward for being such a good protector?”

Opening your eyes you finally saw him for the first time in months. Battered and covered in blood, you figured that he’d been fighting just about every being on this island that he could get his hands on.

“Chobe.” Next to him was Toma, looking at everything but you with a slight blush on his face. The exact opposite of his brother who hungrily eyed you like a predator about to devour its prey accompanied by his devious smile. “Lately it seems like I’m the one who's been doing all the protecting since you had to go and get yourself caught.”

You finally let yourself smile at the man you love. Not able to hide your fondness for long given how long the two of you had been apart. And even though you figured as much, you were relieved to have the visual confirmation that they were okay. “Though it is good to see you.”

“I could make it up to you,” his voice was filled with lust. Toma took that as his cue to give you two space, making up some excuse about patrolling the area. Neither of you paid him any mind. During these past few months, he’d been able to see Chobe while you had to stay away. It was your turn to have him all to yourself. You held out an arm, coaxing him towards you. “Please do.”

He carelessly threw his clothes off as he approached the lake. You smiled at the sight of his semi hard-on, knowing it was all yours. His large hands cupping handfuls of water and wetting his face and hair as he made his way toward you in a sloppy attempt to get rid of the blood, sweat, and dirt.

Inches from your still floating form, the water stopped right above his hips. He reached out to grab your waist and pulled your body towards him. Your hand cascaded through his messy damp hair as he leaned down to kiss you. He was gentle and you felt him exhale through his nose, trying to savor the feeling of your lips against his.

You tugged his braid impatiently. You had been waiting for this for so long, you weren’t in the mood to wait some more. His hands traveled up your back, one just below your shoulders, and the other held the back of your neck. He pressed your upper body against him, kisses becoming more feverish and harsh.

You gently licked his lips a few times hoping he'd get the hint. He did, of course, being the oh-so-adaptable man that he was. Holding your head steady as he dipped his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of it with big swipes of his tongue. Occasionally causing your cheek to bulge out. Your skin felt hot despite the fact that you were in cold water.

After he was satisfied with his exploration of your mouth which he had mapped out many times before, you began to rub his tongue. Massaging it with your own. Straining your neck as you leaned up, trying to reach more of his tongue and mesmerizing the taste of his mouth. You whined when he pulled away creating a long spit string between your lips. Chuckling at your reaction he locked his lips with yours one more time, ending the kiss with a soft tug at your bottom lip.

You let out a noise of surprise as he picked you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the edge of the lake. “So needy.”

You scoffed, offended by his smart-ass remark, “Wouldn’t be if you hadn’t left me alone all those months. And that thing down there that's poking my ass says that you’re just as pent up.”

“Maybe,” you could hear the amusement in his voice, “Or maybe you’re just too sexy to resist.”

Setting you down above where the ground dipped, he gently pushed you back onto the soft grass as he sunk to his knees. Now submerged up to his chest in the water, his face was level to your pussy causing a swirl of excitement in the pit of your stomach. He lifted your thighs onto his shoulders, “Don’t worry, I’ll worship you to make up for lost time.”

You strained your neck to look at him. Although you knew he was right here a part of you worried that if you took your eyes off him he’d disappear again. Sensing your tension, Chobe kissed up your thigh, gently kneading the flesh at your hip. “Relax, I ain’t goin' anywhere.”

Letting your head fall back you felt him kiss, bite and suck at each of your thighs. Working you up before diving in. His sharp teeth gently dug into your thigh, cheek practically pressing up against your core, leaving a love bite on your stretch marks before turning his attention to the wet throbbing heat in front of him. He could smell the intoxicating scent of your arousal as he inched closer.

You could feel his warm breath against your cunt, his lips barely brushing against you. You balled your hands up, clenching around nothing, in anticipation. Your jaw dropped when he finally licked a stripe up your pussy.

He gathered up your juices on his tongue, humming in delight. You were perfect. Your scent, your taste, your curves, the softness of your skin. Every inch of you was immaculate and you were his. “I missed eating your sweet cunt.” You let out a breathless laugh as he lapped at your pussy like a starved man, the tip of his tongue flicking at your clit. Your breathing was irregular and quiet moans left your mouth, “Chobe?”

Your body jolted as he hummed in question. The vibration sent sparks through your lower abdomen. “Ooo, fuck.” You reached down to grab a fistful of his hair, subconsciously lifting your hips, trying to ride his tongue. “Can you, uh,” your mind was clouded with pleasure, “Can you use your fingers?” He began tracing circles around your clit with his tongue forcing a whine out of you, “Please.”

“‘Course, princess.” He let go of your thigh, gathering your slick on his fingers as he rubbed around your entrance. His tongue still working on your clit, coaxing that wetness out of you. “Probably tighter than usual since you haven’t had a dick in ya in months.”

“Your fault,” you moaned, feeling his finger slowly slide into your pussy. His hands were so big, just his fingers could leave you satisfied. He curled his finger, hitting that sweet spot as he pumped it in and out of you. Your lower body squirmed and your legs tightened around his head. “Definitely tighter, almost like you're a virgin again.”

“More,” you demanded.

“Sure you can take it?” he teased.

“Mhmm.” You bit down on your lip, feeling a second finger enter you. You felt a slight twinge of pain which was quickly downed out by the stimulation from Chobe sucking on your clit. You already felt so full as he fucked his long fat fingers into you. The friction causing your pussy to make a squelching sound which was driving Chobe up the wall.

His cock ached, begging to be touched, but with how tight you were he knew he couldn't be lackluster with the foreplay. But with the way you were clenching around his fingers, he knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer. He spread his fingers, working you open and continuing to stimulate your clit.

The electricity in the pit of your stomach was spreading throughout your whole body signaling your incoming orgasm. “Faster,” you choked out. You'd only meant his tongue but he sped up his fingers too. Your hips bucked wildly against him. No thoughts, just focused on cumming. You were so fucking close. You grabbed the back of Chobe’s head with your other hand. Upper back lifting off the ground as both of your hands tugged at his hair, pushing his face into your cunt.

“Fuck!” Your eyes squeezed shut, hips coming to a halt. Chobe slowed down the movement of his tongue, letting you ride out your high with gentle flicks that left your lower body quivering. As your body stabilized and your breathing returned to normal, you released your grip on his hair. “Want your dick.”

He tilted his head with a smile, “You were awfully tight around my fingers. How are we gonna make it fit?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” You didn’t want to waste any more time. You wanted him inside you. “Wanna be fucked, now.”

His gaze darkened with lust, lifting your legs off his shoulders. “If you say so.”

As he stood up, your eyes traveled down his wet body stopping at his cock. It stood proud and swollen, the tip was red and oozing precum, aching for some type of friction. You propped yourself up on one of your elbows and reached a hand out to gently grasp the shaft. Chobe groaned, cock twitching at your touch. You smiled softly and pumped your hand a few times. “I missed you too buddy.”

You chose to ignore the fact that your comment definitely went to his head, fueling his already enormous ego. You leaned back and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist once he got close enough. Although it was already wet from the water, he humped his cock against your pussy, covering it in your cum.

“Ya’know, they kept my hands bound. They only cut them free when I had to eat.” He lined his dick up to your entrance. “Couldn’t even jack off. Though I wouldn't've wanted to if you would’ve just left my fuckin’ mind.” His words gave you butterflies as he slowly pushed his tip in, “Naughty girl, teasin’ me even when yer not around.” Your body tensed from the pain and your hand shot out to grip his arm, “ah!” Chobe just continued to stretch you open, “You're a fucking vixen,” until he was buried balls deep inside you.

You took deep breaths trying to relax your body and ease the pain. All the times you’ve been intimate with him, it was always a struggle adjusting to his massive cock. But this was a whole other level. Even though he was only teasing when he said you felt like a virgin, maybe there was some truth to it. “Feelin’ alright so far?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

His hands rubbed up and down your sides in an attempt to comfort you. “Move a little.” You grabbed his forearms, using them to brace yourself while he slowly pulled out and then plunged back in. He slid his hands up to your breast, gently kneading them, waiting for your next instruction, “Do it again.” He repeated the action, this time a little quicker.

“Again.” The two of you kept at it until you got used to the pressure, Chobe moving his hips just a little faster each time. The pain was starting to subside. “Think I’m ready.”

Chobe nodded. Truthfully, after months of not being able to bury his pent-up frustrations inside you, it took a lot to restrain himself. Especially with the way you were clamping down on him, your warm pussy trying to keep him inside you. He rolled his hips into you, finding a gentle rhythm. Tempted to pick up the pace he reprimanded, don’t get too carried away. Reminding himself that you were still adjusting, nice and slow.

Meanwhile, for you, the pleasure was drowning out the pain. You were dripping with need for him and his thrusts now felt far too gentle. “Harder.” He slammed his hips against yours harshly. Keeping an eye on your expression to make sure you were okay. “Faster!” He accelerated his thrusts, still watching you. Your face relaxed, melting into an expression of pleasure. Brows furrowed and mouth agape, moans falling from your lips.

Determining that you were fine, all caution was thrown out the window. His thrusts became erratic and brutal, hitting you in all the right places. His hand slapped down on your stomach grasping the fat and using it to pull your body to meet the frantic slap of his hips halfway. The action pulled a shocked gasp from you, toes curling as the tip of his cock banged against your nerves. “Please, don’t stop.”

Normally Chobe would’ve teased you for how desperate you were for his cock, most likely ending his sentence with a degrading name or two. But even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was sensitive right now too. Months without any sexual stimulation and now he was deep in your cunt that had tightened up while he was away. He was determined to draw your orgasm out of you before he reached his own.

But it seemed like your body had other plans, squeezing his dick so tight it almost felt like you were trying to strangle it. The forest was filled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. The taste of you still on his tongue, the smell of your sex getting him higher than any drug could. The sight of his big hand grasping at your tummy fat, using it to manhandle you. The sensations were getting to him.

“Fuck,” he growled, reaching down to rub your clit. You jumped at the contact. Eyes shooting open as you whined, “Chobe, it's sensitive.”

Rather than tell you the truth that he was rapidly approaching his peak, tensing the muscles in his abdomen trying to hold back until he made you cum, he deflected back to you, “Doesn’t it feel good though.”

Trying to swallow down the noises that threatened their way up your throat as he mercilessly stimulated your sensitive bundle of nerves, you choked out, “Don’t want this to end.”

“Don’t worry,” he smirked, still drilling his cock into you, “we get our hands on that elixir and we can do this forever.”

Too fucked out to comprehend that his plan was for you, him, and Toma to take the elixir of life rather than get the pardon. All you understood was the idea of fucking him forever felt like heaven. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Fine.” You finally let yourself go, eyes rolling to the back of your head, body convulsing. Chobe fucked you through it, the grip you had on his cock had him clenching his jaw desperately trying not to cum. As your moans died down and your body went limp, he pulled out. Letting his orgasm take over, he painted your body with his sperm. Shockwaves zapping through his whole body, legs threatening to give out.

He panted, staring down at you as you gathered his cum in your fingers before licking them clean. Humming at the taste, you looked up at him through your lashes, sucking on your cum soaked fingers. He’d never had an orgasm like that, maybe the two of you would have to go months without sex more often. He dismissed the thought immediately, even if you weren’t begging him to fuck you, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist seeing you come undone on his cock.

Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you into the water. “We should get cleaned up and find Toma.”

You smiled and kiss his cheek. "Okay,” you drawled leaning in to peck his lips, “I really did miss you though.”

“I know.” He returned your affection, nuzzling into your neck. “Thanks for waiting for me. Know it probably wasn’t easy.”

Knowing this was as close to emotional as he was gonna get today, you reveled in the moment. Gently washing each other's sore bodies, until his words from earlier finally sunk in. “Wait, you want us to take the elixir of life?”

[frozenlight-gvf]

Strawberry Wine: Part 1

pairing: barn au: danny x fem!reader (enemies to lovers)

summary: you'd spent the whole summer tormenting the new barn hand, but things were finally reaching that inevitable tipping point where you two would either fall in love or fall apart... or both

word count: 4.5k

warnings (for this part): language, dirty talk, ~digital penetration~, something to do with a hayloft...?, praise/degradation all that good stuff (18+ MINORS DNI)

a/n: this one is dedicated to my youth spent riding horses, everyone who likes imagining danny in levi’s and a cowboy hat, and “strawberry wine” by deana carter

***

Even without the heaviness of the southern July sun and that infamous humidity, you would still be hot under the collar.

You seemed to always wear a scowl. Perhaps it was because the muscles of your face were permanently screwed-up in a sun-blinded squint, or it was because Daniel never let you win a single argument. 

Susannah– your mother and owner of the Nightingale Ranch– had hired the man to help around the barn– feeding the horses and cleaning the stalls and that– but she also had a not-so-secret hope that maybe her only daughter would take a bit of a liking to him. You were always a lone wolf, howling at the moon and snarling at any human– specifically the male type– who got too close.

Daniel Wagner was only the latest victim of your bared teeth; you’d ruthlessly torn out the throats of three other barn hands in recent years, mercilessly tormenting them until they quit the job, citing “workplace tension” to Susannah as the reason for their seething resignations. But despite your constant raised hackles towards him, Daniel stayed. And he stayed with a shit-eating smile.

***

“Wagner, how many times do I have to tell you not to feed Chief until after the 4 o’clock lessons?” you scolded with a bite in your voice.

He flashed a teasing grin at you, carrying a saddle towards the tackroom.

“At least one more time.”

You stomped your boot on the packed-dirt floor of the stable, knuckles planted firmly on the waistband of your jeans. You knew tugging on the horse’s lead rope would be completely in vain, so rather, you focused your frustration at the man walking brazenly down the line of stalls.

“You know I need him for one of my riders, and he won’t do shit when he’s got food in front of him.”

“Come on, that spoiled little priss can ride any other horse here. She doesn’t always need to ride Chief. Put her on Tucker today.” 

Scoffing, you marched after him, following him towards the dusty tackroom, the saddles and pads lining the walls making the entire room smell like leather and sweat.

“And who are you to tell me which horses to put my riders on? I’ve known these horses my whole life, and I’ve been teaching lessons for three years.”

Daniel grunted a bit as he lifted the saddle up to one of the higher slots, reaching his arms above his head then turning to you, catching your eyes flickering to the glimpse of torso you got as his shirt lifted.

“My bad. I forgot that you're just so far above me, heiress."

You bristled at his nickname. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Exactly why I do it– heiress.”

Since your mother owned the barn and all the horses, you were the technical “heiress” of all of it, just as your mother was. But Daniel always made it sound like you were some rich princess, rather than the granddaughter of an honest man who built that barn and raised all the horses. 

You grabbed a saddle from the rack, begrudgingly heading towards Tucker’s stall and tacking up the flea-bitten grey stallion. You would never admit that he was a perfect fit for your rider in the absence of Chief.

After the lesson, the little girl dismounted Tucker, going on and on how she wanted to ride him every week rather than Chief. There was no way in hell you could ever let Daniel know. 

You led Tucker back down from the lesson ring to the stable, both of you covered in sweat and desperate for a cool breeze. Once his tack was off, you patted his soaked side, feeling his huge lungs expanding and contracting rapidly, panting.

“I know, me too. Hotter than hell out there today. Let’s get you a bath, huh?”

The sun was setting over the barn, so you decided to take Tucker out back to the pasture to cool him off, rather than using the hose right outside the barn. The grass was soft and green, and the cicadas were starting to sing. You looked to your left to see Daniel hunched over the broken fence, placing a fresh plank of wood and nailing it in. The incessant noise of the hammer was spoiling what would have been an otherwise peaceful moment.

“Do you mind?” you called over to him. Daniel looked up in the direction of your voice, and a smile dissolved the concentration etched in his face. You could have sworn for a moment that he was happy to see you.

“Susannah said I have to get this done before I leave today. So… no. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes and led Tucker towards the water pump, feeling the heavy softness of his hoofbeats resounding in the ground under your feet. Trying to focus on the sunset and the rousing song of cicadas rather than the pounding of Daniel’s hammer, you cranked the handle of the pump a few times, waiting for water to come out of the hose you had attached to it. 

After a few more cranks and crouching down on your knees to see what the matter was, you were about to give up on the old thing and go back to the barn to give Tucker his bath, until water exploded from the pump, sending the hose flying off and soaking you to the skin. You shouted a curse and tumbled backward in surprise, landing in the grass.

Daniel’s loud cackles from across the pasture were not welcome.

And of course you had decided to wear a white t-shirt today.

“Did Tuck get any of that water or no?”

You growled in frustration, reattaching the hose to the pump and finally getting some water to come out. You grabbed the hose tightly, wishing it was Daniel’s neck. 

“Do you wanna come do this? Considering bathing the horses is part of your job description?” You shouted as you shook the hose, coaxing the low-pressured water out from it. Your wet shirt was sticking to your skin, making the nagging heat of the day even more insufferable.

Daniel took the nail he was holding between his teeth and dropped it in his toolbox, closing it up. He gave the fence one last look-over before sauntering over to you. You tried to hide behind the horse to cover yourself; now that your shirt was practically see-through, your black bra was prominently making its presence known.

“Go home, Daniel.”

He didn’t stop walking towards you.

“But I thought you wanted me to bathe Tuck?”

He was close enough now that you had to physically angle your body away from his eager eyes. You watched as his gaze shifted from your chest to your face and back again.

“Black, huh? I always pictured you in pink,” he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes shot open wide at his baiting tease, and words came flying out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t be picturing me in anything!”

Daniel cocked his head, his smirk widening and a laugh bubbled from his chest.

“Alright then. I won’t.”

Your jaw dropped, then you clenched it up tight, hating the fact that a blush was rising to your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on your anger. Or the summer heat. But the idea of Daniel imagining you naked made your whole face burn pink.

“I said, go home.” Your voice was quieter now, but there was still an unmistakable venom to it.

Daniel chuckled and shook his head, putting his toolbox down in the grass and extending his hand for the hose. 

“Come on, give it to me. I’m the barn boy, so I’m the one who has to keep the heiress’ perfect hands from getting all dirty.”

You kept a tight clutch on the hose, skimming the water from Tucker’s coat with your other hand. At this point, you thought your teeth might crack. Daniel moved closer to you, keeping his hand outstretched.

“Y/N, come on, let me have it.”

“No. I know what you’re trying to do. If you get the hose, you’re gonna bathe everything but the horse. And I’d rather not get any more wet than I already am.”

You heard Daniel snicker a bit, and you instantly regretted your choice of words.

“You’re fucking impossible, Wagner,” you grumbled.

He grinned, moving even closer. Leaning down, his voice was low and taunting, almost whispering in your ear.

“But you like me anyways.”

Immediately, you turned the hose on him, relishing in the brief look of surprise in his eyes as he instinctively raised his hands to cover his face. You didn’t let up, bending down to crank the handle of the pump to produce even more water for your attack.

A devilish grin crossed your face as you watched Daniel try and back away, but it was too late. His shirt was already drenched and clinging to the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen underneath. 

Before you knew it, Daniel was upon you and wrestling the hose from your grip. You yelped as you felt the water soak your hair and pour into your eyes.

“Daniel!” you shouted, trying to push him away, but one of his strong arms was wrapped tightly around you, keeping you held fast as he laughed and let the remainder of the water drain from the hose.

Sputtering, you wrenched yourself out of Daniel’s arms, stumbling slightly, trying to keep a grip on Tucker’s rope.

“Fucking dick!” you shouted, sweat and sunscreen stinging your eyes.

Daniel just shrugged and smiled, wiping his wet curls from his face.

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?”

“I swear to God, Wagner, I’m going to get you fired.”

He dropped the dripping hose into the grass, taking the horse’s rope from your hand as you kept trying to get your eyes to open without them burning. 

“Susannah loves me. There’s no way in hell she’d fire me.”

“Then quit,” you growled, starting to make your way through the pasture, back towards the barn.

Daniel chuckled, following close behind you and leading the horse with him. 

“Aw, but if I quit, that means you’d never get to tease me again. And that’s your favorite thing in the world.”

“My favorite thing in the world is watching you leave the barn at the end of every day so I don’t have to be around you anymore,” you shot back.

“You watch me leave every day? Someone’s obsessed,” he teased in a sing-song voice.

You clenched your fists and continued your trudge back to the barn, not turning around or responding to Daniel. When you got back, the sun had fully set, and your mother was standing at the back entrance of the barn, watching as two soaking wet figures and a horse approached. You heard her mutter something like “I don’t even want to ask” before turning and heading up towards your house, which was a short walk from the barn. 

The lights inside the barn were warm and cozy, the heat of the day still lingering. Your body was still simmering with anger as you squeezed out your hair. You turned to take Tucker’s rope from Daniel, but he didn't let go.

“I’ll put him away.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and he was wearing a warm smile as opposed to his usual roguish grin. You stared up at him, in a bit of shock– and hating how the sight of him looking down at you made your heart flutter.

“No–”

“Do you not trust me to put the horse back?”

“I don’t trust you being in the barn alone.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Set all the horses loose?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on, heiress, I love these horses just as much as you do.”

You scoffed and opened your mouth to speak, but Daniel cut you off with a wave of his hand as he started walking Tucker back towards his stall.

“I know, I know, ‘I grew up with these horses,’ ‘I know them better than anyone,’ blah, blah, blah. Ok, I love these horses just a little bit less than you. Better? Are you gonna correct me on that, too?”

You cocked your head proudly, biting back a smirk. 

“No.”

“Alright then.” Danny removed Tucker’s lead rope and hung it up on the nail outside his stall, turning the lock on the gate. He turned to you, giving you a dramatic bow. “Am I dismissed, heiress?”

Without a word, you turned to leave, but you felt a firm grip on your wrist. Danny pulled you back to face him, suddenly very close to you. You could feel the heat of his muscular body radiating off of him, making you flush even hotter. Your breath hitched in your throat. Once again, his eyes flickered down from your face, catching on the areas of your body that your soaked white shirt revealed. His voice was low and smooth, sending goosebumps up and down your skin.

“Am I dismissed?”

You looked back and forth between his dark eyes, swallowing hard. Daniel smirked at your apparent speechlessness. 

“Well, heiress?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, but your voice had lost all its usual force. Daniel’s closeness and the heat of his eyes was like anti-venom, sucking out all your bite and resentment. His hand travelled slowly from your wrist up your arm.

You backed away, shuddering slightly.

“Go home," you said, your voice sharp and trembling.

Daniel stood back up to his full height, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

~~~

You didn’t speak to Daniel at all the next day, practically shivering with unresolved tension. He knew something was up when you didn’t say a single word to him when he once again fed Chief before 4 o’clock; instead, you headed straight to Tucker’s stall without so much as a glance in his direction. He watched you with an eager smile quickly fading from his face as he realized you weren’t going to engage. 

After you finished your last lesson of the day, you decided to retrieve your favorite horse– a beautiful dapple grey mare called Guinevere– from her stall for a sunset trail ride. The trail wound through the thick woods that stood behind the barn, just beyond the pasture. There was a lusciously cool breeze blowing, like the Earth was sighing at the end of a long day. You sighed with it, unable to shake Daniel from your mind. 

You plodded along the trail on the back of Guinevere, enjoying the feeling of her slow, steady movements beneath you, unimpeded by a saddle. Riding bareback was your favorite way to unwind; you let your mind drift away, lulled by the warmth of your horse and her dependable gait. 

A flash of a wispy black shadow flickered through the trees. The burning gold of the setting sun almost made it look like smoke from a fire before you realized it was the tail of Ares.

“Hello?” you called through the woods, wondering if someone else was there, or if Ares had broken the lock on his stall with a kick of his powerful hooves and escaped. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Y/N?”

Of course. Ares was Daniel’s favorite horse in the barn.

Daniel came trotting around a bend in the trail, saddled up on the tall black horse. He held the leather reins in one hand, forgoing a helmet for his weathered Stetson. You internally scolded him for his blatant disregard for personal safety, but you couldn’t help but think that he almost looked like something off the cover of a Western romance novel, with the golden light shining through his dark curls and illuminating his tanned skin. And him taking a liking to the most notoriously difficult horse in the barn made it even more cliche.

“You shouldn’t be out on the trails. Don’t you have work to do?”

Daniel shrugged and urged his horse closer to you. “I finished everything before 3 o’clock. You know, I do my job a lot better when you’re not constantly torturing me all day.” Something in his voice almost sounded regretful-- like he missed your taunts. But he hid it well behind that damned charming smile.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you nudged Guinevere’s mane to turn her around, starting to head back towards the barn. The trail ride wasn’t worth it if it meant having to be out there with Daniel.

He noticed your wordless retreat. Surrendering wasn't like you. “Relax, heiress, I’m done out here. I was just taking Ares back and then heading home for the day.”

You turned Guinevere back around, facing Daniel once more. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, giving you a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You shrugged, urging Guinevere forwards, passing Ares. “Nothing,” you muttered. You were glad to leave Daniel behind you, so you didn’t have to try and hide the utter longing in your eyes anymore. Ever since last night, you yearned to be close to him again. But the very fabric of your being wouldn’t allow that.

“I’ll stay at the barn until you get back. In case you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, already disappearing through the trees. "See you tomorrow.”

There was nothing but silence behind you, until you finally heard Ares’ heavy hoofsteps grinding on the gravel at the trailhead. You let out a deep breath. 

You tried to enjoy your ride, but not even Guinevere’s gentle presence could calm you. She could sense that you were uneasy, her head on a constant pendulum swing as she looked around the darkening woods for any sign of danger. But she didn’t know that the danger was only in your mind– the irrevocable, perilous danger of falling for a boy. 

Guinevere carried you back up to the barn, and you were surprised to see that the lights were still on. Usually when you came back from your late trail rides, the barn was dark and empty, the only sounds being the sorts and sighs of the horses. You assumed your mother was sitting in the small makeshift "office," perhaps finishing up some work.

You got Guinevere all cozy in her stall, giving her some loving pets and a kiss on her nose. But before you could close the gate, you noticed that her bucket of food was emptier than usual. You decided to head towards the back of the barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where you kept a stash of treats specifically for Guinevere. A burlap bag of apples was your goal, but your mind instantly shifted when you saw a figure sat up against the hay bales.

Your heart shot to your throat and you almost fell back off the ladder in fright, but the figure reached out from the shadows to grab your wrist.

“Daniel! What the hell are you still doing here?” you whisper-shouted as he pulled you from the ladder up into the dark loft. The barn lights didn’t exactly reach that area, but you could still see his flickering smile, like a candle in the night.

“I told you I’d wait here if you needed anything,” he said, settling himself back against a hay bale, one leg kicked out.

You shook your head, sighing, trying to get your breathing to slow. “In the hayloft?”

“Where better?” He said, outstretching his arms, looking around at the space, then locking his eyes on you.

The entire reason for your being up there was forgotten. “Seriously, why are you up here?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I like it up here. It’s quiet. And I get a good view of the stable. Figured I’d get some payback and watch you go home this time rather than the other way around.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, that familiar frustration you felt towards him starting to simmer. “I told you to leave an hour ago, Wagner. You know I don't trust you to be in the barn alone.”

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?” he asked with a stupid grin.

“Because I hate you.” You spoke bluntly, with the intention to hurt him. Anger was curling off your skin like smoke. But your words bounced off of him– he saw right through you and locked onto the desire bubbling just under your surface.

“You don’t hate me. You hate the way I make you feel.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you think you make me feel? Other than angry?” Your voice was louder than it probably should have been.

“Turned on,” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re full of shit, Wagner.” You snarled, ready to rip him to shreds.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” he said, standing up. “I turn you on. I get you all bothered, and if my assumptions are correct, I’m the first person that’s ever made you feel this way.”

You chuckled bitterly: an attempt to bring him down a peg, as well as to mask the sensations stirring within you. “You’re definitely not the first.”

Daniel cocked his head, and you instantly realized your mistake. You just admitted that he turns you on. You exclaimed, stomping your feet and clenching your fists. You were seconds away from digging your claws into him.

“That’s not what I meant–!”

You bumped into a stack of hay bales behind you. You hadn’t even realized you were backing up. Daniel was stalking towards you, his eyes intense.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you meant.”

Before you could say another word, Daniel moved as close to you as he was last night, his breath fanning across your face. One of his hands grabbed the side of your face, holding you fast. You were about to protest, and Daniel could sense it, so he leaned his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

His lips were almost touching yours, his eyes fluttering as his breath grew heavier. His closeness almost felt like static electricity; sparks flew between your lips as they threatened to collide. Panting already, you swallowed hard as he pressed his sturdy body into yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this, heiress.”

The tension was so thick that you could see it– you could see it in the twitch in the corner of Daniel’s mouth, in the imperceptible flare of his nostrils, in the lift of his eyebrows. Months of teasing and taunting were coming to their inevitable head right before your eyes, right in front of your face. 

You didn’t tell him to stop.

He seized your face with both hands and pulled it to his, your lips slamming together in a kiss like a firecracker, setting the both of you aflame.

Your head felt hollow, weightless– but the feeling of Daniel was quickly filling it like water. He pressed you against the hay bale as the kiss deepened, one of his hands skimming down your body and squeezing your waist. You found yourself clutching at his shirt, almost like you wanted your bodies to exist in the exact same spot, with no space between them. You wanted to live inside him. 

Daniel let out a grunt, meeting your whiny sigh as his tongue pushed into your mouth, finally tasting you for the first time. His body bucked into you slightly, forcing you harder against the hay bales. 

You gasped into his mouth as you felt his thigh shove itself between your legs, applying delicious pressure on your most sensitive spot. He smirked against your lips as he started moving his leg back and forth.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he spoke in a soft, provocative tone, taking your little moans as a sign to keep going. “See what I can make you feel when you stop fighting me?”

You practically growled into his mouth, curling your fists around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him tighter against you. He let out a little grunt of surprise, falling into you.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked down at you.

Your voice was nothing but a breathy whisper. You were just staring at his lips. “Shut up and kiss me, Wagner.”

He kept kissing you deeper and deeper, unable to get enough of you. His fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt for a moment or two before slipping underneath the fabric to feel the soft warmth of your bare skin at your stomach. His hand was soon splayed out, his palm rubbing your waist and traveling up towards your ribs, holding you tight.

You were pinned against the hay bales by Daniel’s weight. His fingers started working at the button and zipper of your jeans, not wasting a moment before stroking your clit over your panties with the pads of his fingers. You sucked in a sharp breath, your head falling back.

Daniel chuckled darkly, and you knew he was feeling how wet your panties were. “What was that about me not turning you on? You’re soaked just from bickering with me, sweetheart.” 

Before you could shoot back, he pulled your panties to the side and made direct contact with your swollen clit, making you choke on any words you were about to fling at him. Daniel raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in a mock look of surprise, mimicking your pitiful moment of submission.

You started grinding your hips against his fingers, instantly addicted to the friction his arousal-slicked, rough fingertips provided you. Daniel smirked, enjoying watching you already coming apart for him. 

“Yeah? My fingers feel good against your cunt, don’t they?”

All you could do was nod, squeezing your eyes shut as he slipped his fingers inside you, forcing a moan from your throat. The movements of your hips didn’t stop as you fucked yourself on his thick fingers. He matched your rhythm, hissing at the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Fuck, sweetheart… so fucking tight…”

A coil was twisting itself mad in the pit of your stomach, begging to be snapped. Daniel could tell how close you were by the crease between your eyebrows and your desperate gasps for air.

“Aw, is the heiress gonna cum on my fingers? Make the barn boy’s hands all dirty like they should be?”

You nodded frantically, mere moments from your peak.

“I bet you don’t even touch this filthy pussy with your fingers… would be such a shame to get your hands dirty, right?”

“Daniel–” you squeaked, warning him of your impending release.

“Maybe I should take care of this little cunt of yours as part of my daily chores.”

You whined as your head fell forward against his shoulder, your movements becoming frenzied as you edged closer and closer to that blissful explosion of pleasure.

“I know. Give it to me, sweetheart. Make a mess of me.”

A moan clawed up from your chest as you began to convulse, your vision going white for a moment as your entire body erupted with wanton delight. Daniel held you upright with an arm tight around your waist as your legs gave out. You clung onto him as the waves crashed against you. You could vaguely hear Daniel whispering words of praise in your ear. 

“That’s it– yeah, that’s it, good girl… good girl.”

A few moments passed before you could string a coherent thought together. You were panting, trying hard to swallow past your dry mouth. You could hardly believe what just happened– it was like your brain wasn’t allowing you to process it.

Daniel smiled at your disheveled state, picking bits of straw out of your hair.

“So, I think it’s safe to assume that you don’t actually hate me, right?” Daniel said, breaking the silence and grinning teasingly.

He slid his fingers out of you and buttoned up your jeans. Before you could speak, he was already tipping his hat with a crooked smile and descending the ladder, leaving you swaying and trying to remember your name.

"Goodnight, ma'am."

***

PART TWO

Taglist:

@sunandthemoontwinflames @brujamagik

DM me if you want to be added! I currently don’t have a post schedule for this series, so if you want to be notified for future parts, the taglist is the best way!

[analumina]

Ahhhh!!! I finally finished my Good Omens fic 😭 I've never written a long ass fic before. Allow me to shamelessly plug the first chapter here.

Summary:

Having read some interesting files as he was snooping around heaven, and after seven months of no contact, Aziraphale takes the elevator down to earth to inform Crowley of the dreadful news or rather happy news? Either way, congratulations, they have been ineffable parents since 1941, not to mention the looming apocalypse they must also worry about. Hooray?

________________________________________________

“Right.” Aziraphale said as he pushed his way into Crowley’s flat as if he had not broken the poor demon’s heart seven months prior. All Crowley could do was stare at the angel in confusion. “You still keep the drinks in the study?” The angel continued as he walked around like he owned the place.

Crowley’s brain was trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. Aziraphale was back? Just like that? What? How? And the most important question of all, why was the angel drinking straight out of the wine bottle instead of a glass?

After some minutes, or it could have been seconds, who was keeping count, the tall dark demon finally closed the door and approached the angel, his angel. The love of his life whom he had confessed to and been utterly rejected by. Brain finally catching up, Crowly huffed in annoyance and anger, approached Aziraphale and seized the wine bottle out of his manicured hands. “Wha –”

Aziraphale nodded uncontrollably. “Yes.” He breathed. “Yes, perfect. You take a big sip as well.” He let out a long exhale before taking back said bottle and, once again, took another long sip from it. He was not at all his posh self as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed the bottle back to Crowley, urging him to drink.

Crowley was too pissed and confused to obey. “What th –”

“I didn’t know it was possible.” Aziraphale chuckled like a mad man. “How can it, right? Why it – it was never… I mean…you know? And you…demon…and angel…the…the…yes…but here we are…and…what…oh, how was it possible?” At this point, Crowley had no idea if Aziraphale was talking to him or to himself. “Supposed it could be? Do you think…no…or rather yes...Maybe…

“Aziraphale!” Crowley’s voice was stern. “What the hell is going on?”

Aziraphale’s mind finally seemed to register where he was. He let his blue eyes wonder about Crowley’s flat. It was as if nothing had changed really. The dark and cold walls were still a contrast to his at the bookshop. The open space made it seem too sterile, too unwelcoming. The only attractive thing were the charming plants visible from the open wall panel. Suddenly, the air stilled as his eyes made contact with the other charming thing in the flat, Crowley.

The angel felt faint, though he was not sure if it was due to him trying to get used to his human self again or the fact he was seeing Crowley once again, or, and it could be the particular reason for his ramblings, the fact he needed to tell Crowley something he had uncovered as he snooped about heaven’s documents. Topic back on his mind, he reached for the bottle once more however and, unfortunately for him, Crowley managed to keep it out of his reach.

Seeing the worried expression painted on Aziraphale, “What’s wrong?” Crowley softly asked as the anger he had boiled inside for the past seven months seemed to evaporate completely.

Aziraphale licked his lips, “Oh, Crowley.” He launched forward and took the demon into his arms. Crowley’s brain seized to function once again until he felt Aziraphale tighten his grip around him. He relented and hugged the angel back, placing his cheek upon Aziraphale’s soft locks. “It – it’s horrible really.” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s chest. “Or rather…I do not know.”

“Did they hurt you?” Crowley tried to keep his tone soft, but it came out cold and unnerving. Aziraphale shook his head, still not wanting to face Crowley, it seemed. “What’s wrong then? ‘spose you finally figured out how much you missed earth’s delicacies? Or maybe you realized how much you missed me and how huge of a mistake was leaving me behind.” He chuckled. “It will take some time to forgive you but I will…eventually.”

“Crowley.”

“Fine. I forgive you.”

Aziraphale pulled back and tilted his head up. He took Crowley in. The demon had not changed much. His eyes were still that perfect shade of yellow, his grin still as playful as ever, his scent was still as magnificent as he recalled. His hair, well, it seemed he had let it grow out, reminding Aziraphale of the bun Crowley had fashioned back in 2013 or so. Secretly, it had always been his favorite style of his, apart from their time in Golgotha while Crowley was female presenting. Although, wasn’t his hair long there as well? “I…” he exhaled sharply, “Do you recall 1941, around the time when we were at the church and…”

“Oh, yes, the Nazi spies. Night of your magic show. Fell the Marvelous if I recall. Oh, Aziraphale, please don’t tell me you tried to show the other angels your magic tricks.” Crowly rolled his eyes. “That is definitely one way to get kicked out of heaven.”

“No, I –”

“Fine. You can show me your tricks if it will make you feel better.” Crowley sighed and ended their hug as he made his way to his sofa. He plopped down with a big huff and looked at Aziraphale up and down. “Go on then, amaze me.”

Aziraphale stood silent and unmoving for a second and with one big breath he finally uttered, “We have a daughter.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, and nodded slowly, trying to understand the magic in the act until his brain called him an idiot and something clicked inside him, “…we whot?”

[thebellearchives]

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘

~ Vash the Stampede ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : in the aftermath of Knives stealing another plant, you run after broken-hearted Vash to let him know you’ll always be by his side

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : vash x gn!reader, angst, very vague mentions of corpses, blood, and injuries

‧₊˚ a / n : currently fighting a writers block so i’ll offer you this old drabble 🙇🏼‍♀️ also yes i’m obsessed with comparing vash to the sun and sky let me be )’:

You and your thomas had barely been able to leave the crumbling town. You were on your knees, hands grasping the sand underneath and your lungs trying their best to go back into healthy shape. When your eyes finally dared to reach out to the night sky, the first thing they spotted was a blond man. He was muscular, and was wearing a strange suit that looked like it could’ve been his second skin, white and with strange blue patterns. Thousands of blades emerged from his back like tentacles, some were struck directly into the sand, lifting him up from the floor, and others went up into the sky, wrapping around the city’s plant.

Your mind had gone blank, and only two words were in it, repeating themselves endlessly while you stared directly at the man. Millions Knives.

He wore Vash’s face, but still he looked so different. His hair wasn’t bright like the sun, it was a lighter, dead shade yellow. And his eyes weren’t like a cloudless day, they were a cold ice desert, ruthless and merciless. He landed carefully on top of a big car that rushed away from the town, some of the blades retracting back into a hooded typed of clothing. He didn’t see you, and neither did the people that were with him driving. They just went away.

“Vash” your voice whispered, breathless as your mind went back to the blonde who had tried with all his might to stop his brother and failed “I need to find Vash.”

Your body acted on its own. You ignored your aching limbs and the bleeding cuts in your skin, running across the debris. It didn’t take much time to find a group of survivors. The sound of crying, coughing and panting hit your ears like a sandstorm. You almost tripped when you reached them, searching frantically for the blond, but when he was nowhere to be seen you searched for the town’s mayor instead. Making your way through the group of wailing people and dragging your feet towards the person furthest away, you panted desperately.

“Paul” your voice raised, but he didn’t turn around “Paul!”

Your throat gave out in protest, making you cough.

“What” he replied hastily.

“Wh… Where’s Vash?!” again, he didn’t reply, but patience wasn’t exactly your strongest suit “where is he?!”

“I sent him away. He’s the reason this whole thing happened to us. He’s the reason.”

“W-what?” you blinked in confusion, your thomas’ steps caught up to your side.

“He’s the reason!!” he yelled at you now in frustrated desperation, despite him being turned away and hiding his face it was clear he was now sobbing “if he hadn’t set foot in the town none of this would’ve happened.”

“What are you taking about?!“

“He's the Humanoid Typhoon after all, isn’t he? Everywhere he goes he brings chaos and destruction.”

“He saved your life! Multiple times!”

“And he destroyed the town!”

You gulped, staring at him as if burning him alive with your pupils only was possible.

“You’re an asshole”

“What?”

“You’re an asshole! Millions Knives destroyed your town, not Vash!”

“They’re the same.”

“You are the same!” you screamed at him this time, thinking about how Vash must have felt when he sent him away and blamed him for everything “you are the same as everyone else, this is why Knives hates us.”

You turned around and mounted your thomas and patted its side.

“Find him.”

Without a seconds hesitation, your thomas started running away from the now ruined town, corpses, cries and the lingering sand still dancing in the wind.

Humans are the scum of the planet. Knives words echoed through your mind. They’re all the same.

For a second you thought maybe he was right. Everyone blamed Vash, even when he tried his hardest to help. Even when they knew about Knives, apparently. Tears fought to make their way out, but they stopped when your heart did too. A figure appeared in front of your eyes against the breaking down in the horizon.

“Vash!” jumping off back into the ground, you ran towards him.

“Stay away, please.”

“What?” you almost muttered the question, he stopped walking and you caught up to him quickly.

“Stay away. If you follow me you’ll end up dead.”

You choked up on the words you wanted to let out, he tried to keep walking away.

“Wait, please.”

His shoes stopped over the sand yet again, but it was clear he was conflicted about moving on.

“Please listen to me, Vash” he didn’t make a move, and you took it as a good sign, walking up to him “even when the people in the town blamed you, I defended you.”

He was still silent, your fingers then grabbed his red coat and forced him to turn around and look at you. When his sad eyes finally met yours you couldn’t stop all of the thoughts from falling off your mouth.

“Even if they did, I didn’t. I’m on your side, I’ll always be. Even if whole world turned against you, I will be beside you, I will defend you” you grasped the lapels of his red coat, watching as his eyes widened and his lips partly opened in surprise “I will defend you with my life if i have to.”

He shook his head lightly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Blinking slowly, he bit his lip.

“Why?”

Your heart started to beat faster, tears prickled the corners of your eyes yet again. The words that burned your throat refused to get out, you couldn’t say them yet.

Cupping his face in your hands, a painful smile made it’s way to your lips.

Because I love you.

“Maybe some day, you’ll find out.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

Can you write an Earthspark Tarantulas x human reader fluff thing please? ❤️

Indeed I can, dear anon! I hope you like it! This spider has been living rent free in my head...

For those who don't know; if you like my writing style you can always commission me!

The dilapidated paths you hauled your old pickup over were "roads" more in name than practice, but considering how important it was for you to remain undetected, you accepted the bumpy ride as a fair price to pay for secrecy. Granted, that fact didn't do your poor back many favors, and the fresh snow on the ground had made for more than a few unnerving slips over the terrain, but you didn't allow yourself to complain. It wasn't like you'd been invited out here. No, you'd decided to head up the mountains after a snowstorm completely of your own volition.

Pulling off to park once you got to the fallen tree that marked your stop, you zipped up your coat and bundled up completely before hopping out, having long since learned the cold was far more intense high up in the mountains. Frigid air bit at what little skin you had exposed, but you ignored it as you pushed through the knee high snow to round your truck. Reaching beneath the cover and into the bed to pull out a heavy duffel bag, you cast one last paranoid glance about to ensure you weren't followed. The only movement for miles around came from the snowflakes drifting on the mountain air all around you.

Shouldering your bag and ignoring how the cold burned your lungs, you left the road to hike into the woods, hoping you'd have enough thermal mass to keep from freezing on the way there. The walk ahead wasn't long, but it did take you through some difficult terrain, and the increasing number of snowflakes fluttering through the trees promised to make the journey that much harder. Refusing to let that dissuade you, you abandoned what little reason you had remaining to tuck your head down and march.

By the time you caught sight of the cave you had lost feeling in your toes and were coughing from the strain of so much frigid air cycling through your lungs, but you ignored it as well as the exhaustion dragging down your limbs. Forcing yourself over the last rugged hill and telling your aching legs you had only a few steps left, you cupped a shivering hand by your mouth to magnify your failing voice.

"Tarantulas!" you croaked as loudly as you could, stumbling down the final hill to the mouth of the cave. Nearly face planting into the snow, you just managed to overhear a distant scuttling echoing from the depths that quickly grew louder, and you looked up right as the source stepped into view. 

"No need to be so loud, I heard your approach." Tarantulas chided with a tired sigh, chelicera twitching in irritation as he stepped out into the snow. Ignoring him to stagger the last few feet to the entrance, you were stopped when the arachnabot took your bag from your exhausted shoulders, his huffy demeanor doing little to hide the concern behind his actions. "I also told you to skip this supply drop. It's far too cold for organics in these mountains. That is why I chose them."

Ignoring him to haul your heavy body under the sheltered overhang, you collapsed onto a convenient rock, shivering but still able to speak clearly enough to sass the spider. "Last I checked, you don't just stop needing energon because it's cold… or any other supplies, for that matter."

He grumbled something you couldn't hear as he opened the bag, carefully turning over the contents with his claws before the three measly energon patches you'd secured dropped into his palm. Disappointment showed freely on your features as you tossed back your hood, and while his visor was impossible to read you still felt compelled to apologize for having so little to give. It wasn't like he had anyone else to help him out. "On that note, sorry it's such a small amount. I couldn't risk grabbing anything else."

"This will more than meet my needs for the time being." he replied quickly, taking the supplies and returning your bag to you. Upon beholding how your hands shivered when you took it, he hesitated, and you took the straps to secure over your shoulder as you tried to hype yourself up for the walk back. It would be easier without the weight, but you were still not looking forward to plowing through the snow that was starting to fall in greater quantities. Just thinking of what the drive would be like on the trip back down the mountain made you wince more than the ache in your frozen limbs. 

Before you could take a step towards the exit or even offer your goodbye, Tarantulas held out a claw to stop you, something that caught you quite off guard. Though he never pushed you out the door, the arachnabot had never been one for hosting guests, which only made the concern on his expression all the more surprising. "You should come in and rest, it is much warmer in the main chamber."

"I just need a minute here." you replied to ease his worries, not wanting to risk the greater headache you'd have to face later if you delayed your departure. "I can't risk the truck getting stuck in the snow. If I move now, I can beat the blizzard."

To your continued surprise, Tarantulas didn't back down, and instead gave you a quick scan from head to toe. "Your body temperature is well below what is recommended for a mammal of your size." he concluded from the results, angling his many limbs further to discourage you from leaving. You were too tired and baffled to reply, but remained unconvinced, fears of a hefty vehicle repair bill leaving you with little patience for his sudden protective streak. "If you are concerned about your mode of transportation, I can assist with repairs once the storm is finished. I would be remiss to send you back into the elements."

"You're not sending me anywhere, you're just letting me leave." you argued back, though there wasn't enough fire in you to even raise your voice. It was hard to be anything more than frustrated by someone stepping so far out of their comfort zone for your sake, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone who you'd sacrificed so much just to keep safe. Accepting help, it seemed, wasn't something either one of you did well. Though to his credit the spider was quickly wearing you down.

"Then I will not be doing that either." Tarantulas said firmly, moving completely in front of you to block the exit. There was nothing threatening about his body language, which more resembled a mildly frustrated guardian whose lack of patience was born entirely from fear for your sake. "If I must, I will use my webs to detain you. Do not push me to that."

Still unable to feel your extremities and admittedly uncertain you'd make it back to your truck without freezing, you sighed with a heavy slump of your shoulders, looking back up at him to find the spider unyielding. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?"

"It would be… disadvantageous, to lose an ally of your caliber." he replied, skirting your question with an answer that sounded more rational than sentimental. For the first time you allowed yourself to smile, and a fresh rush of winter air heavy with snowflakes cemented the rationale of your decision. Noticing the increasing snowfall, Tarantulas doubled down on his promise before any doubts could be raised. "I have a limited supply of human rations for you to utilize if the blizzard sets in, and I will ensure your vehicle is functional once it thaws."

"Do you have a bed?" you asked as you stood up, letting him know he had no further need to convince you. The spider relaxed and beckoned for you to head down the passage, a deeply inclined tunnel that led to the well insulated and comfortably upgraded series of rooms he called home. Though you'd spent little time there, you were admittedly looking forward to the idea of getting a bit of sleep under eight watchful optics, and happily followed his instructions as he led you back.

"I'm certain I can find something suitable. Please, follow me."

A collection of bot sized cushions created from synthetic fibers and held together by his webs proved more comfortable than you could have ever imagined, even with nothing more than a cleaning cloth for a blanket. For his sake, you pretended not to stir all through the night, even for the brief interval where you woke to find him adjusting your makeshift blankets and fretting over the temperature. 

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 6

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 6: developments

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

Weeks went by until we were in the heart of winter. Construction slowed as the Demons found it more bitter, painful, and unpleasant to work in the cold, leaving most of it to Humans until the wind and snow made it impossible.

The Haven itself was finally looking like an actual town. We had reached the tree line and were now expanding outwards to cover the entire field. The huts were on one side and would remain there until construction started again in the Spring.

Everyone was developing in their own good way. Althea was turning into an herbalist, having an intense drive to learn about plants and using 'nature's medicine' for basic needs. This went hand in hand with a new arrival, Vilcin.

Vilcin had been the Demon who helped when Striker attacked me. They had an owl like face with gorgeous black hair flowing well past their hip. They were very still but when they moved they moved like lightning.

Vilcin and Rosie had talked awhile after Alastor brought me back. They were in need of somewhere to stay, Hell now too overrun for any Overlord to want more inhabitants, and Rosie immediately sent them our way. They had a knack for manipulating plants and became our permanent cook. They had a large garden behind the grand hall and were always experimenting with new recipes.

Althea, who was quiet but tough, took a liking to the equally quiet newcomer. Vilcin packed a few secrets and lots of good sarcasm, something they only showed around Althea, myself, and Vivian.

It wasn't until we were all talking in the garden one afternoon that I realized I had formed my own group. I had friends. Althea and Vivian were doing most of the talking but I felt so happy when their eyes glanced at me to keep me in the conversation. I felt content.

That wasn't the only new development. The children were becoming much more easier to handle and adults started 'adopting' some of them. It gave the children someone to look up to and the adults someone to care for, especially those who had decided to couple.

I always watched with envy as couples held hands, hugged, and even kissed. It made my heart twist painfully. I would never be able to find anyone to be with like that. My mind even went as far as to drift to Alastor and being stuck with him. I didn't believe the Radio Demon had it in him to actually care for someone other than his mother and whoever the girl was from him memories. Would he be bothered if I did find someone? Being soulmates never meant we had to actual couple.

Speaking of which, things had leveled out between us again. Every afternoon we were deep in the forest magic 'sparring'. He stood on one end of the clearing and I on the other. I just had to touch him and I'd win the match. I have yet to do that.

After a few weeks, our relationship started to go back to the way it was in the middle of knowing each other. He still stole touches to get the energy high from our connection but they were almost secretive and light, as if he wasn't as bold to put a hand on my shoulder anymore.

I was relatively okay with him and he seemed to find any reason to be near me. I knew his reason for wanting a stronger connection but at this point there was no use in being angry. He was always going to have an ulterior motive and he couldn't get that connection unless I felt like having one, which would be never. I forever had control of something that he couldn't contort or manipulate.

"You're improving," Alastor said. He planted his cane on the grass near my head. I was sprawled on my back trying to level out my breathing. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. "Faster than I expected."

I took another moment to take a few more deep breaths. "I'm catching up."

"You've still got a ways to go, my dear."

"You ought to look at things in a more positive light," I forced myself to a sitting position before standing up on shaky legs.

Back at the house, I showered and changed into my usual outfits of wide pants and a button down shirt. I had yet to see Alastor in anything but his red coat and black pants.

I walked down the stairs to find him waiting near the front door. I wanted to lift an ear but I was holding my Human form. So I went with a coarse, "What is it?"

"Perhaps you'll join me for a meal tonight?" he asked. The question caught me off guard. It took me a moment to remember that he was trying to find ways to form a stronger connection.

"I eat with my new friends every night," I answered, emphasizing 'new friends' in a way that said I wasn't willing to give it up.

I was expecting him to say something harsh and hurtful, but he didn't. "Perhaps an afternoon snack? I'm sure your cravings have gotten more frequent." Like always, he was right. He has been leaving the cubes of meat in my room every other morning but I found myself fighting the urge in the middle day. I especially felt it after our training sessions.

Not wanting to piss him off again, I gave in. He led me to the sitting room where the two chairs sat on either of the fire. The inside was safe from the winter air but the feel of the warm fire was hard to ignore. Sitting on either chair was a book, one of them being the one I was currently reading. How did he know?

His eyes watched me as I sat silently and took one of the meats from the dish on the small side table. He wasn't particularly interested in his own book, having already read his entire collection already, but Rosie had suggested he do something with me that was calm and didn't give me a reason to want to murder him.

We sat in uncomfortable silence for half an hour. I threw myself into the book and tried to ignore the warm presence around my mind. He was there, not pushing, and his attention felt on me instead of his own book.

When the clock chimed, I carefully closed the book and left the room. I was expecting him to grab me or say something, but he didn't. He was silent as I left the book on one of the side tables and left the house. I found Reagan on my way out and took a stroll along the shore.

A few days later, Alastor asked me to go with him into Hell. He brought Spencer along to post his articles around Hell about the Haven. The small man seemed more chipper and upbeat when we met a second time, his anxiety having disappeared after meeting with the Radio Demon so many times.

I had been to Hell a few times already and seen what it looked like. The vast city was intricate, busy, and in an enclosed space. However, when Alastor teleported us, I found myself as the base of a twenty-five-floor-plus building. Surrounding me were similar height buildings, all the same red or dark purple color. There were bridges above shorter buildings connecting each other.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Unclaimed territory," Alastor answered, "The rest of Hell is starting to look exactly like this."

As much as I wasn't comfortable with Hell and what it held, it felt wrong that it looked like this. I felt so small and everything seemed plain and boring. It felt suffocating to see souls jam packed together like chickens in a tiny cage.

The surrounding streets were littered with trash and dead bodies. Ugly looking creatures feasted on the dying corpses while Rosie's cannibals took the rest. This must be solely houses unless there was more inside these massive buildings.

"I didn't realize..." I made sure to keep up with both of them, "how bad it was here."

"I'm not sure which is worse," Spencer said, "being hunted for sport on the surface or being stuck down here."

"On the surface is much better. There's space and ways to keep yourself alive and hidden. Here you're just stuck until you die or someone kills you." I watched a young Demon run from an alley and into one of the doors. A male Demon thrice his size looked down both streets for him and huffed when he realized he had lost him.

Alastor shoved me. I was about to yell when I noticed a bloody corpse in between us. He cocked his head to the side with his yellow teeth showing and said nothing. Spencer started taking photos with an old camera box the size of two fat textbooks.

After he got what he needed, he started glueing up his posters to the sides of the buildings. He then started going inside the buildings and putting up ones on the ground floor lobby. I asked to help and together we barely scratch the surface of the amount of buildings. He didn't have enough paper and needed to print more.

Alastor walked me to Rosie's emporium before taking Spencer back to his shop. Rosie and I had been meaning to meet again since our last get together was a couple weeks ago. She asked the usual about the haven, Charlie, my new friends, Reagan, and Alastor. I was short and to the point as polite as I could be about him. There wasn't much I could say to her since the two of them were close.

That night, a nightmare attacked me. It was a combination of all my bad memories coming together. I tried pulling myself out of the memories but they weren't exactly memories. They were altered and somehow made worse. I couldn't pull out of a memory if it wasn't one. How do I pull out of a dream?

I reached for my mother as I was wrangled from her grasp; I was put on a table with a bright white light overhead and pain everywhere; I was shoved further in my cage and my limbs restrained to be used; Striker hit and threw me left and right; my skin turned black as I morphed into a terrifying version of my Demon form; Alastor held me close by my neck so his bad breath filled my nose as his claws impaled my neck, blood streaming down my shoulders; and I was chased into a dark corner as all my demons came for me.

I needed out. How do I get out?

Alastor's warm presence was on the edges of my mind and I immediately reached out. He would know how to pull me out. I let my mind brush against his and willingly pulled him in. I opened my eyes to see my demons dissolve as nothing but purple surrounded me next. I was in my mind. I was out of the nightmare.

I instantly pulled out my mind and my eyes shot open. I bolted upright and slammed my forehead into Alastor's. We both clung to our heads from the pain and let out a hiss. I casted magic to turn on the lights.

"What were you doing?" I demanded, still rubbing the top of my head where we hit.

"I was helping you." He dropped his claws from his forehead. I noticed then that he was wearing all black, pants and a long sleeve. I was shocked to see him in something other than his usual red suit.

"Why were you that close?" I asked slowly, my eyes looking him up and down.

"Is a thank you so hard?" he retorted, holding his arms behind his back. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed me looking him all over again. "You were the one who reached out to me."

I let out a sigh and put my face in my hand. My heart was still beating fast and I had a headache from hitting his head. The nightmare felt like it had taken so long to happen. Weren't dreams supposed to happen really fast?

He was silent and quick, appearing beside me and placing a hand atop my head. I was about to smack it away when the pain disappeared and my heart slowed down to its normal pace. My adrenaline had also gone down so my body wasn't buzzing from it. I let out another heavy sigh, releasing the last of the fear and tension.

"Do you feel better, dear?" he asked.

I nodded and he removed his hand. Our energy disconnect wasn't as abrupt this time and it felt like warmth was being pulled from my body. He silently moved to the door but I said, "Thank you."

His smile turned into teeth, though his back was still to me. "Of course. Sleep better, dear." He slipped out of the room and relocked it with his magic. I turned off my lights and laid back down. I didn't fall asleep right away, instead repeating our conversation in my head a few times.

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

Author’s Note:

It’s the little things that matter, right? :P Welcome new OC Vilcin!

I should be back to daily uploads by Monday. Thank you for being patient and understanding this week! I’m grateful for each of you <3

[misericordia-writing]

Lightning Bugs

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙜𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙙-𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚.

𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨."

Chapter 1 of Matchbook

Pairings: Danny Johnson/Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Angst, Fluff

Summary: A character exploration of Danny. I've noticed most fics make him super funny and sardonic, and while I love that, I imagine I'd have huge moral qualms about dating a serial killer. So I wrote this. Not particularly dark, but depressing? I don't know. I’m sorting things out. Probably super OOC. Enjoy.

TW for canon-typical violence, implications of mental illness, and unhealthy relationships/power imbalance (naturally)

Ao3: s://archiveofourown.org/works/45585013/chapters/114704077

    "I hate that you're right."

        The words come out quietly one night, while you're sitting on a muggy balcony that smells like cigarettes and acetone. The green-gray haze of Floridian night swamping you in swaths of gnats, only gently dissuaded by a mesh screen.

        A streetlamp flickers and dulls, the painted metal cart of a dollar store clinks against its siblings, and an old man sputters and coughs up into his shirt collar.

        "About what?"

        "About people. Humanity. Life. Society. That type of stuff." You say, balancing a bottle of black nail polish on your thigh while you try to paint your toes. "How it's just primal violence. You're pretty much right."

        He doesn't respond. Normally, you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about this stuff so openly, outside, where a neighbor could hear you. But everyone is busy tonight. You’re not too surprised that he’s memorized their schedules. Furtively scratching pens into notebooks almost every single second that he’s not busy playing out stories. Too enamored to eat or sleep or wash the dishes. ‘That’s one of the reasons I keep you around,’ he had said, in partial jest, as if you were his mid-century housewife.

        "Listen, I'm not just sucking up to you like some chick in a horror movie, trying to persuade the killer that she's on his side. As applicable as that may be. You're right. Genuinely."

        "I thought you were into all of that spirituality stuff. Being good. Reaching nirvana and donating to the thrift store." He mutters, methodically scraping the debris of last night out from under his nails. Jed has work tomorrow.

        Jed Olsen is who you signed up for, back when you were still a recent college graduate, finally having gotten to the 'good' part of your life. Feeling hopeful, cheery even. Watering your plants, picking up dandelions off the side of the road, smiling at strangers. Saving up to buy a nice house someday, with a garden and personal study. Somewhere you could bake in, read in, live in. Maybe even find someone to share it with.

        ‘You were just so sweet,’ He said one time, while you were in his car. He had locked the doors and told you that he just couldn’t trust you that much, yet. But soon.

        ‘Always so withdrawn, cautious. But sweet. Barely able to deal with playing nice to co-workers, but then turning your back and smiling at weeds in the cracks of a sidewalk. Surprising, considering the way you dress. All rock n’ roll, usually. Black looks good on you. That scraped-up Walkman attached to your hip. Diverse taste. I mean, the way you seamlessly went from Bauhaus to Blondie in the span of an hour was truly something.’ Sip.

        ‘All while performing an elaborate routine in your bedroom- complete with costume changes and a hairbrush microphone. You really could be a rockstar, sweetheart. Too bad though, I don’t think that’ll happen. Maybe in your next life.’

        He paused to look at his milkshake, then dipped a fry in it. ‘Different- odd and unusual, but not in the predicable early-twenty-year old way I see a lot. Talking to the spiders you would find in your room, politely asking them to leave. So observant and smart. But ultimately, I guess you just weren’t observant or smart enough, were you?’ He barked out a laugh, triumphantly.

        He was so charming, the way he would stop by your job before work. Monday through Friday. Pretending to think for a minute, before ordering the exact same coffee as he always did. Coincidentally loving the same books, talking with you about the new episode of a sitcom you had been watching the night before. Handsome, and only a few years older, with a degree from a similar program to yours under his belt. Good reputation, wonderful penmanship. Enthusiastic, kind- but with a quick wit.

        He made you feel special- which, apparently, you were. Just not in the way you’d think.

        "I am, still." You sigh, painting, the brush spreading smooth inky black across keratin. A drop of paint drips onto the skin of your foot.

        You scrape it away with the back of your fingernail and quickly dab it to a folded paper towel.

        "Danny." You say, looking at him. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

        He tsks, as if the question offends him. "You really want me to be the judge on ethics? Are you forgetting who I am? What I do?" A gravelly punch dips the last syllable of each sentence, almost like a growl.

        "No," You say, "I'm just asking. Besides, I thought you thought you were right? Do you think that your actions are ethical? By your logic, that we are all inherently violent and terrible, then you wouldn't be evil for acting on that. My beliefs lie somewhere in the middle. Just curious."

        He pauses, dark eyes looking down into the parking lot. The man is gone, and the cart is pushed neatly back into its place.

        Sweltering heat. He smells like detergent, the good middle-of-the-road kind. Sticky notes. Cologne. Sweat. Iron.

        "No."

        You frown, looking down through the mesh as well. Lightning bugs light up the brush at the edge of the apartment complex. “Fireflies!” You say, with childish glee. You almost forget the crushing guilt for a minute, beaming down at the glowing shrubs.

        You’re eight again, bare feet padding through wet grass, trying to catch them in a jar. Somebody is having a barbeque, and you’re going to go to bed tired and happy tonight, with a dozen itchy mosquito bites down your legs.

        You wonder what eight-year-old you would think about this situation. You wish you could go back in time, tell yourself to never move to this god-forsaken red state.

        Surely, that way, Daniel Johnson would’ve never stumbled into your life, staining you with the blood on his hands.

        He still doesn’t say anything, other than a hum, so you sit back down. Finishing the last coat of paint on your smallest toe.

        The plastic weaving of the chair digs into the backs of your thighs, and you set the polish back down on the accent table. The thermometer reads 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

        “I hate myself.” You say, feeling every bitter moment and truth from your past bubble up at once. Every scrape, burn, and cut. “I don’t understand why you do what you do. It makes me feel guilty for you. Like I’m the one doing those things. Am I not just as bad? I don't try to stop you. I should.”

        You often feel that Danny’s twenty steps ahead of you. Just waiting for the right moment. Chess and checkers.

        A bead of sweat rolls down your back, the tank top you wear doing little to reduce the humidity. You stand up and walk to stand in front of him. “But yet here I am. I’m still surprised you haven’t killed me yet. You said you were going to. Why not?”

        “I probably will when the time is right." He looks up at you for a moment, pausing before looking back at the sky.

        "If it makes you feel any better, you don’t really have a choice in what I do, or a choice in being involved with me… I would find my way in, in any situation. This is probably just some type of Stockholm syndrome kicking in. So you survive. Fun, right? Your brain and body are doing the best they can to cope with the reality. Of your situation. Of how you feel about me. Really, you’re lucky. You think all of the others wouldn't have taken this opportunity? Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

        He swats a mosquito nonchalantly.

        “Yeah, I guess so.” You say, sitting down at the foot of his lawn chair. “Do you care about me?”

        “A little bit.” He says, gaze off to the side. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

        You laugh, though you aren’t sure if he was trying to be funny. Not that it was very funny in the first place.

        “For the record,” He says, “You’ve made it longer than anyone else has. Normally I lose interest. I’m not done watching you yet. I don’t know if I want to end your story. It’s my favorite.”

        “Well, if I’m nothing else, at least I’m a serial killer’s favorite 'story'.” You roll your eyes, but there isn’t too much sarcasm behind it.

        “You make me feel the way I feel when I kill, sometimes. I don’t know if I love you, because I don’t really believe in that stuff. But I like you more than most things.” He says, fingers reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair. 

        The same fingers that dig knives into people and then snap pictures of it after. That rip intestines out and turn them into party streamers. The same fingers that would’ve done the same thing to you, too. That still might.

        That fantasize about it, twitching sometimes when you turn your back. Itching to grab you by the throat and finally write a conclusion. Aching to make you a headline.

        Fingers that move down to your neck now, feeling the red pulse of your blood. Padding up to the side of your face and wiping a welling tear away from the corner of your eye.

        Fingers that have held your hair back when you puked, and gripped your hand firmly in public when you can’t find the clarity to process all the different sounds of a supermarket. Let you pick out your favorite candy at the video store, made popcorn with you on the stove.

        Pressed your favorite VHS into the player for the third time that week, not because he found it particularly groundbreaking, but because you couldn’t get out of bed to wash your hair or eat, and that stupid movie was- for whatever reason- the only thing capable of distracting you from the thought of pink-red water slotting down the drain of his porcelain white bathtub.

         “I feel that way too, sometimes.” You rasp. “Minus the whole killing people part. I don’t know if it exists. Love. At least, not as the thing people say it is. Really relates back to the animalistic nature thing, right? Do animals feel ‘love’? We are animals. I’ve felt things like love, but never what I’m supposed to. I wish I knew. Snakes like warm rocks. Do they love warm rocks?”

         “You’re probably never going to know.” He says, bluntly, nails scratching at your scalp. You wonder if he's only doing it to get the last flakes of dried blood out. You imagine little beams coming from his fingers, wiggling into your brain and picking out all of your synapses. Mapping your psyche.

       He probably would if he could, but then he might get bored and gut you for his collage.

        “Yeah,” You sigh, “I know. But… I love you. The closest to love I think I can.”

        “I know.” On anybody else, it would sound almost pitying.

        You know that even if he loved you, he would never say it. The words will not leave his mouth. But you feel loved. The way that he touches you, the way he presses against your back sometimes, in the middle of dark, foggy nights. Covers kicked off the bed, and a face pressed into your neck. Him keeping a box of special pictures under the bed, just of you, that you don’t think he knows you know about-  but maybe he knows that you know. Some of them from before you even met. Almost all of them when you weren’t looking.

        And later that night, when you’ve locked the screen door, and he’s meticulously arranged his piles of papers, looked through his hastily (passionately) scrawled designs one more time, and finished the laundry, you two lay down in the bed. As the moonlight streams down onto his face, dark hair reflecting its soft glow, you sigh. A hand reaches out to stroke his neck, and you wonder again why he does the things he does. He lets you. You can feel the heartbeat in his throat.

        Danny hates when he falls asleep before you, but you like it. So rarely do you get to see him off-guard- innocent and peaceful, brows finally unknitted. The little scar on his forehead that he keeps covered. The slow rise and fall of his stomach against you, occasionally an upper arm tensing over your shoulder. The way he rests his face in your hair, or the crook of your neck.

        Surprisingly cuddly, for a ruthless, taunting killer, who you know for a fact has slaughtered more than enough people to fill the  floor-plan of your shared apartment, probably, if you laid them down flat.

       ‘Thirty-two,’ he’d grinned, proud of himself. ‘Not many others can say the same, can they?’

        You grimaced. ‘No, I suppose not.'

        Your stomach churns again, before you drift off. You dream about fireflies and going to prison. People screaming and swimming in a pink-red bathtub. Sometimes you think it would be easier if he had just killed you the way he planned. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so guilty for being alive, then.

        If you could go back in time, you would fix him. You like to tell yourself that, sometimes. That you could change his outcome, and the fates of dozens of others as well. You would treat him right, never let the sickness twist his mind. Stop his father from planting a seed of despair and overwhelming hatred in his heart. Let him be ignorant and happy, watch the news. Not make the news.

        Maybe you would have a nice house together, if it were Jed, and you could make lemonade and watch fireworks together. Kiss him on the cheek and watch him smile. Have deep conversations that take all night, but never reach past the abstract and theoretical, into the realm of reality. Be normal. You were foolish to ever wish for anything other than normal. You would kill to have normal, now. To live without the churning in your stomach.

        You really should be more careful what you wish for.

[sun-and-moon-mushroom]

Day 16: Came Back Wrong

AO3 link

(Continuation of Day 4 and Day 6)

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure how long it took for him to escape the Endless Abyss. Even with his knowledge of the monsters that roamed within, even with his knowledge of the route the original Luo Binghe had taken in the novel, he still struggled and suffered as he tried to reach his way out — the resting place of the demon sword Xin Mo. He couldn’t imagine what it might have been like for Luo Binghe — at least his sense of pain was dulled by his undead body.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t really like to think about it — the fact that his body was now technically a corpse. It had benefits — he no longer had to eat or drink, even without the use of inedia, and the System let him trade the points he collected from fighting various monsters and completing missions based on what Luo Binghe originally did in exchange for repairing and maintaining his body. He could remember a few healing plants within the Abyss, but it seemed like they only worked on living beings, so he was reliant on the System until he could find a method of his own to regrow a limb that got eaten by an opportunistic scavenger. He couldn’t believe he’d once been worried about Luo Binghe tearing his limbs off — it seemed almost mild compared to what he’d experienced in the Abyss, which he supposed had been part of the original reasoning for it…

When he finally found Xin Mo, he hesitated for a moment before taking it. Wasn’t this the sword destined for the protagonist? Would taking it for himself throw the story even more off the rails? No — Luo Binghe had already escaped the Abyss arc, so if he was ever going to get Xin Mo himself and complete his destiny of becoming an all-powerful demon lord, Shen Qingqiu would have to take it out of the Abyss himself. The moment he took hold of it, he could feel the demonic energy rushing through him — he had read the description of it, but it didn’t match up to the pain he was feeling now, the first true sensation he’d had in a long time, almost refreshing with it’s sharpness. Raising the blade up, he cut down, a dark portal opening up before him, leading to the human realm.

—

A few hours later, he was cursing that decision as he dodged the attacks of a group of Huan Hua cultivators. Apparently, his impulsive return to the human realm had brought him into their territory, and sensing the sudden burst of demonic energy from a portal to the Abyss opening, they had decided to check it out — only to find a powerful fierce corpse nearby. Shen Qingqiu would have just fled, but his time in the Abyss had taught him to always strike back, to make sure his enemy wouldn’t follow him and attack when his back was turned. Those battle-honed instincts kicked in the moment he was confronted by the cultivators, and before he knew it, three of the five were already dead on the ground, so much weaker than the beasts he was used to taking on that he forgot to try and hold back.

Now the remaining two were trying to corner him, and the idea of being pinned between two enemies set his nerves on edge. Then he remembered that he now had a sword, and drew it — the demonic energy of Xin Mo immediately throwing them off-guard and giving him the opening he needed to cut through them, ending the threat. In the aftermath, he looked down at the bodies, part of him still expecting to feel some sort of guilt for killing them. It never came.

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important thing must be said three times! User has unlocked the achievement ‘Came Back Wrong’! User can now absorb the golden cores of powerful cultivators in order to heal and maintain his body! ]

The familiar sound of the System sung out, the familiar blue screen hovering above the corpse. Shen Qingqiu considered it for a moment but — well. They might not have a need for them any more, but part of him still shuddered at the idea of treating a fellow human like that. Even if he wasn’t fully human any more…

Turning away, he decided to head to the demon realm instead, at least until he could get his instincts more under control. It was a pity — he’d really wanted to see what Luo Binghe was like, all grown up, and without a traitorous master betraying him. Maybe another time…

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S2 Ep 9

Previously on TGCF…

-There goes everyone, ghost and human

-Even Baby Guzi!

-That smooth transition shifting from San Lang to Hua Cheng

-I’ll give one plus on Qi Rong, his eyeliner’s decent and also his long braid

-He is pissed

-Hua Cheng’s a master of stealth and the bad cop!

-And XL’s the Good cop to HC’s Bad cop!

-Spoilers If you read Book 2, you’ll fully know why Hua Cheng is enraged at Qi Rong

-QR’s hackin up a lung there

-Just like qi blocking!

-Qi Rong’s crawling like a tide pool crab

-He paralyzed and muted XL!

-Oh you know well what you did to HC all those years ago (spoilers)

-Another face plant!

-That eye glow!

-Dude you mean scrolls, Ling Wen’s office has plenty

-Qianqiu killed him!

-The bu dao weng jumped out!

-He is hoppin up and down!

-Xie Lian’s still frozen!

-Qianqiu’s back!

-His friend!

-Qi Rong’s confessing!

-Qianqiu controlled his anger and roasted the S outta QR

-There’s the reason

-He shook his head

-Gross, Qi Rong’s kissing sound

-Qi Rong has an alibi

-Preceptor Fang Xin mention

-There’s the truth and the nail’s been hit again!

-That was the fate of Fang Xin?!

-He still can’t move!

-It took Qi Rong that freaking long to notice who’s behind Tai Hua???

-HC unfroze and unmuted him

-I’ll take that advice

-He knows him!

-Xie Lian confessed!

-It took QR that long to realize who XL actually was???

-Another flawless transformation!

-And now XL roasted his cousin

-QR finally realized!

-QR’s apology wasn’t sincere at all

-QR’s a real piece of work

-Thank you Hua Cheng

-He’s gonna make a hole in the ground

-Xie Lian deemed his own cousin worthless 2024

-You gotta love Bad Cop Good Cop! Hualian

-Touchstarved Hua Cheng!!! Season 2!!!

-He’s not pretending at all

-He’s laughing like a jackal

-His reputation’s already ruined man

-Roast!  Him!  Good!

-Hey I worship this guy and he’s been an inspiration to my own art!

-Not exactly man

-I wonder why

-“Did you blind him with your ‘holy light’ or was it some other ‘holy’ part of you?” Yep, there it is, that’s another slipped in innuendo

-That slap had the energy of what happened in a previous award show (i forgot which one on purpose)

-That slap just surprised Hua Cheng in a good way!

-Right in front of the statue again

-Yeah you totally deserved that slap man

-I mean, living in a cave 800 years would totally cause someone to go nuts

-Now he’s asking Hua Cheng’s question

-Don’t even picture Qi Rong doing an autopsy, just don’t

-There’s Qi Rong’s alibi

-Gross

-That slow jingling

-He reached for his sword

-They didn’t even perform a lie detection test

-3 swords have crossed!

-The truth’s still coming out

-Yong’An in the past

-Hi Mengyou!

-Dragon Dance!!!

-Mengyou’s still concerned!

-The Hualian masks!

-Oh no!  The most common crime you’ll see in any setting!  A purse snatching!

-He was still selfless

-Qianqiu was fast!

-Oh no the acrobat!

-Not the fine china!

-His kick was higher than my current GPA, if I even know the score, and this calls back to TGCF S1 Ep 3

-That sounded like Female Qingxuan

-The Naruto run!

-Ooh cool weaving, music and face painting 

-And those men were just calm while playing Go!

-He’s on the rooftops!

-Fang Xian’s teachings!

-The sword throw!  If only Sokka could’ve learned that in Book 3

-He used the prejudice to try covering his tracks

-No not his walking stick!

-This elderly man should’ve been a member of the White Lotus

-I like to imagine Iroh was great friends with the Elderly Yong’An man

-If only people came together like this in the present…

-That came full circle!

-Man, I wish I’d get to celebrate like that every Lunar New Year

-Fang Xin smiled

-Xianle and Yong’An were once in harmony…

-He mentioned the Common people!

-It’s the same scene from S2 Ep 7

-And he never forgot

-Thank you Mengyou

-Best day trip ever

-Oh no Qi Rong’s in Yong’An

-That’s An Le and with the same crazed expression

9 down 3 to go!

The Scrap Immortal and the Avatar will official start in 2025!

[ereana]

Alhaitham/Cyno - Good Luck kiss

Cyno blinks in surprise when Alhaitham rises from their table at Lambad’s. Usually Cyno is the first to leave while Alhaitham will squeeze out every minute of his lunch break that he can get.

“You’re off early, I thought my joke about the mushrooms was quite good.” He says as he sets his own cup down. If Alhaitham is going then Cyno has no other reason to stay, especially when there’s a fresh case on his desk about a group of suspiciously similar research proposals from a group of final year Vahumana students to investigate.

Alhaitham acknowledges Cyno with a nod as he reaches for his bag.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have about an hour left before facing off against some of the senior academics in regards to the proposed arts programme. Nilou is quite capable of handling their arguments herself but Akademiya politics are tricky.” Alhaitham glances at Cyno’s face before smirking. “There’s no need to pout General, I’ll be with you again this evening as usual.”

Cyno scowls and crosses his arms. He is the General Mahamatra. He doesn’t pout because his partner had to leave lunch early to deal with scholars who cling to their prejudices like toddlers to their toys.

He is simply…disappointed.

Alhaitham continues to look at him, the edge of wonderment to his expression the only reason Cyno doesn’t deny it. Alhaitham has admitted to him in the quiet of night, whispering under the covers of their bed, that he still has trouble believing that Cyno wants him. Cyno is determined to banish that misconception and indulging in a little light teasing is a small price to pay.

Struck by a sudden impulse he stands up from his chair, stretching on the tips of his toes until he’s close enough to plant a brief kiss on Alhaitham’s cheek. There are a few murmur’s from other patrons around them but they’ve been together long enough that the sight of the General Mahamatra and the Grand Scribe being romantic in public has lost its immediate shock value.

Now Alhaitham is the one who blinks at Cyno. Once. Twice. Seemingly struck speechless for a moment by the gesture.

Cyno grins at him. “A kiss for good luck. I don’t think you’ll need it for dealing with a few old men but take it anyway.”

He starts to pull away only for Alhaitham to wrap an arm around his waist and keep him close, eyes narrowed with an intense focus he usually only saves for a particularly interesting or unique book.

“Surely, if the intention is to give luck, a kiss on the mouth would offer the most direct way to pass it on?”

Cyno narrows his eyes but his grim remains fixed on his face. Alhaitham’s tone is almost bored but his eyes tell the true story, one that Cyno can understand in an instant.

“You don’t believe in luck, Haitham.”

Alhaitham shrugs. “That’s not the point. The issue is the most efficient way for you to give me a resource-”

“A resource you don’t believe exists.” Cyno interrupts even as he relaxes in Alhaitham’s arms.

“-and if it can be transferred using a mouth then surely the best way to do so would be mouth to mouth as with air if one were attempting to resuscitate a drowning human.” As he speaks Alhaitham bends his head down until there’s nowhere for Cyno to look but directly into his face. “Are you so cruel as to deny me a potentially life-saving resource?”

Cyno scofffs. “Only you could turn a small gesture of affection into an accusation of neglect.”

“It won’t be an accusation if you kiss me again.” Alhaitham points out and Cyno knows they could quibble about this for hours if they had the time; trading jabs and lofty, well-reasoned arguments about whether luck was real, what the best method for wishing someone luck was, and if it could be compared to the necessity of air.

It would be fun as well.

But duty calls them both and Cyno would feel awful if Nilou was left to fend for herself all because he wanted to be selfish with his partner’s time. He’s not used to wanting someone all for himself, the first time he’s allowed himself to be selfish and it crashes against his control with the force of a flood after a dam breaks.

That and the fact he really wants to kiss Alhaitham again too. A pleased warmth bubbles in his chest as Alhaitham asks him for it, reassuring that Cyno isn’t the only fool in love in this relationship.

Cyno kisses Alhaitham again, a soft lingering kiss against his mouth that makes Alhaitham sigh against his mouth, turning the imposing Grand Scribe into a puddle in Cyno’s arms. 

The kiss ends as Cyno pulls away, Alhaitham chasing after his mouth with the same drive that reshaped a country.

“Good luck.”

Alhaitham pulls him close once more.

“Further testing is warranted.”

Well, they are both scholars after all.

[pencil-peach]

G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 12

And so, we have reached part 13 in my attempt to transcribe and discuss the text that appears on monitors and screens in G Witch (and talk about stuff I think is cool)

This is the Episode 12, the season 1 finale: "Keep Marching on Instead of Running Off."

<< Click Here to go back to Episode 11

Oh, but you'll have to change before you can join me under the cut.

You have to wear a normal spacesuit while reading this post...

Like episode 11, this episode is actually very light on text, (for obvious reasons..) so I'll also spend some more time discussing little things in the episode I think are interesting.

The text on the panel for the EV (Elevator) reads C BLOCK No. C - 6 The EV is arriving shortly.

It also has 3 symbols on the bottom, with one crossed out. It's hard to know what they mean, but my best guess is: - Communication (Which is currently unusable due to the attack) - Multi-Directional (As in, isn't a one way elevator, can go back and forth) - Capacity (In this case, multiple people can use it at once.)

Also, in this scene, Miorine talks about "opening the bulkhead from the control center." What she means is she wants to find the control center so she can open the giant wall that separated her and Suletta. The first thing that both girls thought of doing when they were separated was rescuing the other.

Also, also, the fact that C Block still has some semblance of power despite having been fully disconnected from the rest of the plant must mean that every individual block must have some sort of reserve power system in case something like this happens. I wonder how expensive this place was to build....

I really like the scene where we see Sophie activate Permet Score 4, because I think they put so much focus on it in order to put a lot of things we've seen earlier into perspective.

Up until now, we've only seen 3 characters (other than Eri but she doesn't count) activate Permet Score 4: Nadim in the prologue, El4n in episode 6, and now Sophie.

I think the first thing we can see when we compare these instances is how, broadly, Gundam Pilots have generally been made to become more resilient to Permet in the 21 years since Vanadis.

As far as we can tell, Nadim was probably one of the most skilled Gundam Pilots at Vanadis. (Other than Eri but she's like. cheating.)

Even acknowledging that he hadn't piloted a Gundam in some time (He says as much when he first activates Permet 3), he's still incredibly adept at controlling GUND Bits and nearly singlehandedly holds off the attack by Cathedra. (Thought Wendy's efforts must also definitely be acknowledged.)

When Wendy starts suffering from Permet exposure, Nadim tells her that she can't raise her score any higher

We never see or hear exactly which score she's at, but her Gundam is deactivated by the Antidote, which only works up to Score 3. So she's either at 2 - 3, and she's clearly suffering its effects harder than Nadim, who's also at 3 at this point.

But despite Nadim's clear adeptness at Piloting the Lfrith and his much stronger resilience to Permet, when he activates Score 4, he dies nigh instantly. He doesn't survive longer than a minute.

When Gundams had first been developed, Score 3 was considered the absolute limit, both in terms of what a human could bear and what Gundam tech could handle.

We can see this reflected on the Lfrith itself. When first launched, and up to Score 3, Lfrith's body appears completely normal.

But when he activates Score 4, its entire body glows bright red as opposed to just its GUND components. A sign that its bearing a load it can't handle.

And when Nadim finally dies, we can see its body is also horribly scarred with Permet Burns.

Sophie's Permet 4 scene is a showcase of how Gundam Tech has evolved in the 21 years since Vanadis.

When Sophie activates Permet 4, she's pushing up against the human limit. Her heart is pounding so fast and so hard we can hear it over the music. She says she can't breathe and might even throw up, and unlike El4n, she's not an Enhanced Person. She's entirely unaugmented, but unlike Nadim, she lives.

Gundam Pilots have become more resilient since Vanadis, but also of note is that they've also gotten younger. We don't know the ages of Nadim, Wendy, and Elnora, but they're all clearly adults. In fact, we only ever see Adults piloting Gundams in the prologue. When Prospera realizes Eri reached Layer 33, she's horrified, and I wouldn't be surprised in part because a child piloting a Gundam is just something that had never been done before.

But now, Gundams are piloted almost EXCLUSIVELY by young people. Younger people are raised and trained and experimented on at earlier and earlier ages because it seems that, for some reason, they are just better at being able to handle them.

The tech has also improved much since then. Whenever Lfrith Ur reaches score 4, that device on its shoulder unfurls and activates, and retracts when it goes back under. the Ur and Thorn were built off of the pre-production Lfrith models, and in order to get around its Score limitations, they just added an extra Permet Processing unit to its back to bear the extra load.

El4n is a special case, and his reaction to Score 4 in comparison to Nadim and Sophie stands as a testament to the effectiveness of Bel's Artificial Nervous System. At Score 4, El4n acts more like he's under the symptoms an unenhanced person would experience at Score 3.

All that suffering just to reduce the permet load by 1. How sad.

Anyway, the EMERGENCY EXIT Suletta uses is labaled as an EVACUATION PASSAGE.

It also has the same 3 symbols as on the elevator. If we try and apply the same labeling method as I used on the elevator, then.. -Communication (Offline) -Direction - One Way -Capacity - 1 person. The direction and Capacity make sense, but the communication is a little dubious? Maybe that symbol designates if it leads to an exit or something....

Normally, when Miorine refers to her dad, she calls him "Kusoyaji," which is a portmanteau of "Kuso" (a general swear word usually meaning 'damn' or 'shit'), and "oyaji" (which is a word for father) Calling him a terrible dad, but in this scene after he protects her and she sees that he's critically wounded, she shouts "Otou-san!" instead, which is a more common/respectful word to use for your father. This is localized into English as having Miorine usually call him a "Lousy Father," or something similar, but in this scene she just calls him "Dad"

We also learn a little more about Notrette in this scene, as when Delling tells Miorine to choose the best option of survival and leave him, he says it's what Notrette would do, and that they'd both decided at some point that if anything happened, one of them had to survive in order to raise her.

It's not much, but it seems that Notrette was a very logically minded person, who always looked toward the future in her decisions. I wouldn't doubt that Delling tried to save her, but left without her at her own insistence.

Sometimes I feel as though this scene is paralleling that incident in a way we can't know, and Miorine managing to save Delling here implies that if Delling had tried and not ran away, he could have saved Notrette. But that's just speculation on my part.

There's no real way to prove this, (other than the fact that their voices sound similar) but I've always believed that the closeup of this DOF member we see when they enter the plant is the same DOF member that Suletta kills at the end of the episode.

When Vim launches in the Dilanza Sol, he comments that he worked his way up the corporate ladder by "personally claiming his rivals' heads." It's most assuredly a figure of speech, but um, well.

Like father like son.

When Guel launches in the Desultor, he tries to communicate to the Dilanza Sol, but remember, the comms are jammed, so it returns an error.

After the deed has been done, the network begins reactivating, and we see NETWORK ONLINE appear on Guel's monitor.

This is our first sign that the DOF are starting to run out of time.

I think a lot about this scene. Maybe not in the way you're supposed to think about it though. I just can't shake this idea that Prospera intentionally waited for one of the soldiers to be right in front of Suletta before killing them. She and Godoy had been standing there the whole time, on both sides of the hall. Surely there were better times to have attacked them than when they were right in front of Suletta.

Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit but wouldn't it make sense? She needs Suletta to be okay with the idea of killing someone. Wouldn't seeing her mother do it in order to save her life be perfect for that? Prospera barely comforts her afterward either. She immediately explains to her that if she hadn't done it, Suletta might have been killed, and that fighting can save everyone.

And of course, it's obvious, but I just love the symbolism in this shot. It's so good. Suletta stepping out of the darkness and crossing the line, led by her mother's blinding light, onto the bloody path. It's so good. Such a good fucking scene. Grrggrhgrh

The music that plays during this fight between Suletta and Sophie is titled AERIAL REBUILD

If you haven't already, you should give it a listen. It's genuinely one of my favorite tracks in the entire OST, top 3 at least, and we don't hear much of it in this scene.

During their duel, Sophie calls Aerial REBUILD's face "scary" and says she "liked her better before."

Aerial is no longer pretending to be a machine made for silly school duels, that line has been crossed, and its true purpose is beginning to be revealed.

The truly terrifying thing about REBUILD's GUND Bit Cannon is that we never see it at full capacity. In fact, this one time we see it, it's at its WEAKEST strength. All mobile suits used in Asticassia have a regulation program installed that limits the energy output of their beam weapons. (With this restriction, all energy weapons only produce green colored beams.) Despite being off Asticassia for months now, Aerial NEVER had that program uninstalled, so its Beam Weapons are still at their lowest output. And, Despite That, the beam produced by this cannon is...

This Powerful. It's so powerful, that when Aerial uses it, you can see it have to activate its back thrusters to counteract the recoil.

It's SO powerful, that it completely melts the legs of a Desultor who just happened to GRAZE it ever so slightly.

Not to talk about future episodes here, but I actually cannot stress that it is genuinely a miracle that Miorine forcefully shut Aerial down in this moment in episode 17.

Because, and I mean this with zero exaggeration, Suletta would have ERASED GUEL and SPLIT THE SCHOOL IN HALF if she released the charge on this god damn canon.

Lord In Heaven, Prospera.

TEXT: SUBJECT: Business Correspondence FROM: Peil Technologies To: ELAN CERES HIGHEST PRIORITY

An attack has been made on Plant Quetta by the terrorist orginization 'Dawn of Fold' 2 unidentified MS using GUND FORMAT were confirmed. We will contact you later with further instructions.

This is the email 5lan receives from Peil after the DOF leave. They got that information quick, huh? I wonder how... We also see that he only ever receives Business Correspondence emails from Peil and Course Schedule updates from Asticassia in his inbox. He doesn't have any friends.

And with that, we have completed Ep 12, the entirety of Season 1! Wow...what a ride it has been thus far...

Thank you for coming on this journey with me...!

Whatever happens next, we'll face it together, won't we?

Episode 13. >>

Masterpost.

[atqh16]

Modern sasunaru fic

“You’re going to overwater it”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing”

“That’s way too much water”

“It’s my tomato plant. Go away!”

“Naruto’s going to be really sad when he finds out you killed his present”

“I’ve had it for five years. Go away!”

Sasuke literally hiss’s the last two words at his brother, gingerly holding his watering can over the potted plant but just as he’s about to tip it, he stills.

The can is dropped onto the the balcony tile with a furious thump and Sasuke turns around to grab the leaflet Naruto had given him to re-check the instructions. Finding his measurements correct as if he hadn’t memorized every word the second he got home all those years ago after they’d spent the whole day celebrating his 13th birthday with his best friend. Sasuke raises his head and grits his teeth at the barest glint of a smirk on Itachi’s face.

“Made you look”

If Sasuke was angry before, he was absolutely burning with fury now. Putting all his effort into not crumpling the leaflet in his hand (It’s been half a decade since Naruto gave it to him and it’s still in pristine condition and it’s going to stay that way) he points at the sliding door into their apartment.

“Go away!!!”

Itachi gets up and leaves with a shadow of a mischievous smirk still winding his lips and shimmering in his eye. It would’ve been better if the older Uchiha had left cackling. That way Sasuke would actually have a reason to attack him.

With the pest gone, Sasuke returned to his beloved plant to continue his care. Snipping off dried leaves and shuffling the soil a bit so the water would pass through it better and not get stuck on the surface. He smiled at the small buds that were soon going to grow into plump juicy tomatoes. Even after so many years his pride and joy was still going strong.

After a while he does finally admit to himself that there wasn’t much else to do and he’d been staring into space for about 5 minutes trying not to think about the person who’d given him the plant in the first place. Trying not to think about his friend’s attempt at a comforting grin five days ago right before he boarded a train to Sunagakure as if his time spent there, for the next few days scouting universities that offered humanity courses, wasn’t going to decide on whether their friendship would be a long distance one.

But most of all he desperately tried to distract himself from the image that was currently trying to push its way into the forefront of his mind. The image of the smile sliding of Naruto’s lips. The way the blonde had looked at him with wandering eyes that were somehow more comforting than a smile would ever be. Sea blue irises that flashed an even paler blue from how it was reflecting the midday sun above them.

How an apprehensive look clouded over his face before it instantly disappeared and Naruto leaned forward.

And kissed him.

The shock of it had been broken a few seconds later when the train conductor made a final call for passengers and before Sasuke could react, Naruto had rushed onto the train and damn efficient speedy trains because by the time Naruto had found his seat, his form had become a blur as the train sped away.

Today was the day Naruto was supposed to come back. If his train arrives on time he’d be arriving at their apartment in a few minutes to pick up Kurama.

5 days and Sasuke was still unsure what to do.

Well, that’s not true. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. The only thing that stalled his steps was worry. Fear. Trepidation.

Could he really be enough? Was he really allowed? To reach out and grasp this chance to have everything he dreamed off? Was he worthy of it?

But all of it would be pushed down and drowned by one thought. If Naruto could be brave enough to take this chance, couldn’t he at least do the same.

Suddenly the familiar ding of their doorbell echoed throughout the apartment.

It was time.

[kendsleyauthor]

Silver Ash: Chapter 2

~3600 words

Warning: Blood, human sacrifice

Summary: As Raiden struggles to make it through his first night in the forest, he recalls the events that led up to his sacrifice. Come morning, he encounters another denizen of the forest--one who isn’t keen on letting him go.

🌲 Silver Ash Masterpost 🌲

Once he’s certain that he can’t feel the giant’s retreating footsteps anymore, Raiden forces himself to slow down. Each step and breath threatens to make him collapse. If anything else comes barreling out of the shadows, he makes a solemn oath to himself that he will simply drop into a fetal position. Come what may.

His mind races with half-formed thoughts. He isn’t sure why the giant allowed him to escape, but it doesn’t exactly feel like an act of mercy. He’s still a prisoner of the woods, after all. Perhaps the giant is waiting until he has no more fight left in him before coming to collect. Considering every past Offering has been unconscious when abandoned in the forest, that must be how the giant prefers them.

The forest is quiet around him, save for the rustle of leaves on the wind, his shuffling steps, and the labored wheeze of his breath. If he focuses hard enough, he can pretend he’s in Havenwood—the only patch of forest protected by Shadewick’s bounds. He can pretend he’s simply training his enchantment skills, a master of the trees instead of a victim to them.

But the gargantuan height of these trees doesn’t allow him to live in his fantasy world for very long, and the moment his mind wanders, all he can think about is the giant’s height in comparison to the landscape. He peers up and shivers, trying to guess which level of the high branches the giant’s antlered mask would reach if he were standing straight.

Now that he’s a reasonable distance from the monster, he can fully think about what he witnessed. Every story of the forest is rife with beasts of every manner. Some of them look human, but few are said to be humanlike and gigantic. He has no doubt that the masked giant is a leshy. Those pond-like eyes and patches of vegetation on his skin only solidify it. The giant is a forest spirit, a tree come to life, a demon that will stake its claim on anything in its forest that it pleases.

Raiden slows to a stop when he sees a cluster of small trees that create an enclosed space. It seems as good a place as any to rest. He inspects it cautiously, making sure he isn’t strolling right into the den of another beast. When he deems it safe enough, he steps all the way in and tugs on branches and leaves until the opening is covered. 

He shivers, thinking about how these trees of his are merely underbrush in comparison to the surrounding forest. He’s no better than a frightened mouse scampering to find shelter.

Finally able to catch his breath, he makes his way to the far side of his makeshift fortress. Along the way, he runs his free hand along the leaves and vines. The foliage responds to his touch, glowing faintly to give him light. His other hand, much to his dismay, is stained wet with red as he continues to put pressure on his side. He sits heavily against the base of a tree and slowly peels his hand away.

His outer shirt is already halfway soaked, but he takes it off anyway and carefully begins stripping it for bandage wrappings. For the first time, he gets a good look at his wound, and he knows for sure that he’s in trouble. 

The laceration isn’t long, but it is deep. Had the boar gotten him at a worse angle, the tusk would have burst out of Raiden’s back.

After he finishes winding the shredded fabric around his middle, he reaches for one of the nearby vines, wrapping it in a tight fist. He shuts his eyes and wills the plant’s life to drain into his own. The vine’s color is leached away—when he opens his eyes, it has gone from vibrant green to sickly yellow. He only feels marginally better, and he can sense that the bleeding has mostly stopped. But all the vines in the world won’t replace the blood he’s lost.

With his magic sapped, he doesn’t have the energy to think about long-term survival. All he can worry about is making it through the night. Or the next minute, at the very least. Whenever his pitiful life ends, he can at least die with some measure of pride if he pictures the leshy’s expression when attacked by someone no taller than his palm.

The mere thought of the monster sets him on edge, and although he is quickly succumbing to unconsciousness, he listens for giant footfalls. If the leshy decides to hunt him down again, he’s cornered. Trapped by his own design. All at once, his cunning shelter feels more like a cage—not unlike the cell in the dungeon he’d been kept in after he was chosen as the Offering.

He had been lecturing at the edge of the Havenwood when the guards came to collect him that day. His students, none of them past adolescence, watched in horror as their tutor’s wrists were shackled. 

His first thought wasn’t that he was the Offering. It hadn’t so much as crossed his mind, even with the night of the ritual fast approaching and no one selected yet. No, he allowed the guards to take him without a fight, foolishly thinking he would be able to talk his way out of a simple punishment.

What he did know, without a doubt, was that he had been seen in bed with Lady Mariana, and the Council couldn’t let that slide. At worst, he’d be stripped of his lecturing duties for a month.

What happened instead spiraled out of control like a nightmare. He was brought before the Council—a close group of two men and two women who were well on in their years. High Councilor Koan stated without emotion that he, Raiden Sota, was named as the Offering this year. The Silver Ash had relayed this to the councilors in their dreams. His sacrifice would ensure that Shadewick remained secure and safe from the horrors of the wild forest.

Raiden stared, slack-jawed.

“Do you understand what you are being told?” Koan asked when Raiden said nothing.

Raiden swallowed hard, lightheaded. “I understand that trees don’t speak or dreamwalk.”

He wasn’t even allowed to spend his last nights in his own bed. He wasn’t allowed to leave at all, to say goodbye to anyone at the academy. He was taken straight to the castle dungeon. Every door stood open except the one he was shut behind. It was stupid to be imprisoned, he thought. Shadewick and the Havenwood were enclosed entirely within the forest. He would only be able to hide so long in the walls of the city. If he tried to flee, there was nowhere to go besides the forest, which would simply mean the forest got its Offering earlier than anticipated.

For two days, he lived in that cell. For all the indignity he faced with his imprisonment, it wasn’t all bad. The food was excellent, though he could stomach only a forkful before it threatened to come back up. He wasn’t sure if having someone to talk to would be better or worse. There was always a guard at the dungeon door—or at least he assumed. They stood just out of sight at the end of the narrow hall, but he could hear when they changed shifts.

It was as if they didn’t want to talk to a dead person.

Light filtered in through the high windows, but he avoided looking outside when possible. The view from his cell was dominated by the Silver Ash in the castle courtyard. He wondered if it would be too much to ask to be relocated to a cell on the opposite side. 

Sometimes, temptation gave in, and he glared at the overgrown tree. There was a natural moat of water around it. Its leaves were vibrant emerald—they never changed color nor fell, not even during the bitterest winters. Its trunk and branches were pale as stone. There was no doubt it was an unusual tree, thrumming with peculiar power, but Raiden doubted it had whispered the sacrificial names every year over the past centuries.

He had a visitor the day before the ritual. At first, he thought the next shift guard had come early, but then he heard a voice. Her voice.

“May we have privacy?” she asked.

“Ten minutes, my lady.”

Raiden leaped out of his cot and rushed to the bars of his cell. Hope dared to fill his heart and set his breaths shuddering. Lady Mariana approached with her hands folded. Her pale blue skirts trailed along the damp stones of the dungeon. Her black pin-straight hair was immaculate, with not a single stray lock. After the hours alone, her familiarity nearly brought Raiden to his knees. Once the light of his window fully illuminated her face, however, he knew that he had been foolish to hope at all. He was ready to stagger back and ignore her, but she reached through the bars and took his hands.

Her dark eyes swam with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The forest wants you. The Council insists.”

Her miserable voice continues to echo in his head even as he huddles in the shelter of trees in the forest. He forces himself to think no further about his final conversation with Mariana. He’s in enough pain as it is.

Well, the forest has me, he thinks. Are you pleased, Mari?

Raiden drifts in and out of a fitful sleep. Every rustle in the surrounding forest, no matter how distant, spurs him to sit up with rigid fright. Long after the light has gone out from the vegetation he enchanted, he jolts awake every few minutes to squint around his darkened enclosure. 

At some point in the night, he manages to fall asleep fully. It still feels like mere seconds, but from one doze to the next, he is blinking at the faint dawn light that filters through the underbrush. Instead of relief that he survived the night, he winces at the hollow pang in his middle and wishes he had eaten more in the dungeon. 

The moment he starts to move, fresh pain lances up his side. His injury, though covered, is likely infected. The sting is vaguely familiar—he’s only had an infected cut once in his life. A few years prior, he cut himself on a branch when training his magic and was too embarrassed to visit the campus medical wing.

He can’t stay hidden forever, especially when he thinks about how there must be something edible nearby to forage. 

By some miracle, nothing has crawled or slithered into his shelter during the night. The relief is short-lived. He feels even more vulnerable when he pushes past the branches and vines, stepping back into the open forest. The morning light is gray and muted by heavy fog that has woven itself among the trees. The thickest part of the fog sits on the forest floor like a blanket of smoke—he can’t see anything at all below his knees.

It seems only fitting with his line of luck so far. Chances are, he’ll get bitten by a venomous snake that he can’t see. That is, if the snakes in this part of the forest are even normal-sized. It is more likely that any serpent that he comes across would prefer to swallow him whole. The idea of it nearly sends him scampering back into his shelter, but if he falls asleep again in this state, he doubts he’ll wake up again. He presses forward.

Despite the humidity around him, the inside of his throat feels like a desert. A dehydration headache pounds behind his eyes. Early morning birdsong drifts high above him, and at the forefront of his dizzy thoughts, he reasons that those birds must have a source of water somewhere.

There is a rustle somewhere overhead that makes him freeze. It sounds far too heavy to be a bird. For an awful moment, he thinks the giant is back. 

He holds his breath and looks around slowly, but there is no rumbling movement or booming voice. The rustle comes again, and he looks straight up.

Something moves among the branches, nimbly traveling from tree to tree. It rustles ahead of him and stops. For a second, there is nothing but stillness and birdsong. And then a figure drops from the leaves and perches on one of the lower branches, eliciting a cry of alarm from Raiden.

Definitely not the giant.

It appears to be a woman. Thankfully, she is human-sized. Raiden stares, the breath loosening from his chest in a heavy sigh. The woman stares back and cocks her head, appraising him. Her bare, pale skin is tinged blue. Her hair flows down to her waist in waves of teal. She is the loveliest creature that Raiden has ever laid eyes on.

“My sweet, lonely traveler,” she says. Her voice is like the first movement of a stream after a frozen winter. “May I take a closer look at you?”

His voice feels thick as it spills out. “Of course.”

She grins widely, breathlessly, like he has granted her the greatest favor. Just as he’s about to ask if she needs help coming down from the tree, she crawls the trunk face down like a spider. His breath catches. A shiver of fear rushes through him, but she seems to spot it as she straightens on the forest floor. Her lovely face drops into an innocent pout before he can retreat.

“Stay,” she says, her voice taking an edge.

He stands still. 

As she approaches, the fog swirls around her. Her eyes are pure white—no irises or pupils to be seen. But the way she tilts her head and faces him directly makes him certain that she can see him perfectly. She circles him slowly. A pale hand reaches out to brush his shoulder from behind, trailing down his arm. She makes quiet noises of delight as she appraises him.

“You are pretty,” she whispers.

When at last she’s face-to-face with him again, her dead stare meets his eyes. She palms his neck, her thumb stroking his jaw. Her skin is freezing, but he leans into her touch hungrily. His own hand leaps out to stroke her hair. He’s never felt anything softer in his life.

“Am I pretty?” she croons.

“Pretty lady,” he mumbles dumbly, wrapping a lock of her hair between his fingers.

“Yes,” she says, looking him up and down with utter enchantment. “I am a pretty lady.” She takes the hand that is playing with her hair and squeezes it lightly. She gives his arm a gentle tug. “You have suffered a great deal. Come, I will bring you home.”

He doesn’t move for a moment—a kernel of resistance is buried deep within him. But when she pouts at him again, his defiance is gone, and all he can think is, finally, I am going home. His ordeal is over. The pretty lady is going to save him.

He allows himself to be pulled, allows her to lead the way at a quick pace. He pays no mind to where they are going, or for how long they walk hand-in-hand. He doesn’t give his weakness or injury a second thought—not even when each step forward makes him want to collapse from exhaustion. He can walk for days, for years, if she’s by his side. 

He barely notices that the fog is lifting with the sun’s full appearance. More birdsong fills the air. More animals and unknown creatures awaken and move among the trees, but he focuses only on her.

Finally, they arrive at the banks of a crystal-blue river that ribbons among the trees. At the back of his mind, he thinks about how badly he wanted water before he met her. The thought of releasing her hand to take a drink fills him with revulsion. He would die of thirst before letting her go.

She pulls him toward the water and steps in until she’s knee-deep. The gentle current laps at his calves. The water is uncomfortably cold and makes a full-body shudder roll through him. He’s treated to a millisecond of clarity—just long enough to make him stop walking and blink with confusion.

Whirling around to face him, she takes his other hand. She leans in closer, her blank eyes widening. 

“Don’t you adore me?” she says.

He breathes out softly, guilty that he had the nerve to hesitate. “Of course.”

“Say you’ll stay with me forever.”

“I’ll stay with you forever.” He squeezes her hands. What other response is there?

An anticipatory smile lights up her face. She begins tugging, leading him deeper into the water step by step. The current starts to pull at him fiercely, but it doesn’t matter because he’s holding her hand and— 

And then she freezes, her fingers pinching sharply around his hands. Raiden can’t stop staring into her face, but he can feel the source of her sudden alarm—the ground and water are disturbed by an increasing rumble. It’s getting closer and closer at an impossible rate. Rather than appear frightened, her expression drops with disappointment.

The shadows darken. Raiden can’t put two and two together until something gargantuan comes between him and the pretty lady. Warm fingers wrap around his body and yank him backward.

“No!” he shouts.

The leshy is back.

The pretty lady whines and tries to keep a hold of Raiden’s hands, but she splashes down unceremoniously in the water when the giant pulls him off the river entirely. Raiden squirms madly, clawing at the cage-like fingers to get back to her. 

“Let me go!” he begs. “I-I—I need—!” The breath is forced from his lungs as the giant fully secures his grip, fingers adjusting to pull his arms down and pin them effortlessly to his sides. He bucks and kicks, emitting a wordless wail when there’s no give to the thick skin.

It’s as if her proximity was balm itself. The further he’s pulled from her, the more the pain sets in again. He stares at the river helplessly.

The pretty lady scowls and gets to her feet. “Sire,” she huffs, dropping into a quick curtsy. Her nose crinkles again with that adorable pout as she tips her chin upward. “Why do you always get to have them?”

A surge of fear rushes through Raiden to accompany the pain and exhaustion. He twists around as best he can to glimpse the giant—the one who wants to have him. The leshy kneels at the bank of the river. That terrible deer skull mask covers his face, and Raiden swiftly averts his eyes. The hand holding him is braced on the giant’s knee—putting him at a heartbreaking distance from the pretty lady. He can’t appreciate her beauty from so far away, and it makes him want to perish on the spot.

“Leave,” the giant rumbles, sounding more exasperated than angry.

Realizing the pretty lady is about to be scared off, Raiden begins struggling anew, damn the pain. “N-no!” he shouts. “Don’t go! Don’t go!”

“See? It likes me!” She claps her hands and grins pleadingly. “Just this one?”

There is a beat of heavy silence. The giant’s other hand rises, and Raiden flinches severely, certain the pretty lady is about to be grabbed and crushed in a merciless fist. But the leshy merely pushes his mask up again. His eyes darken as if night has fallen over the pond in his irises. He gives a growl like an ominous roll of thunder. 

She staggers back at once, gives another curtsy, and dives into the water’s current—out of sight in an instant.

“Pretty lady!” Raiden cries.

The world shifts as the giant stands. Air whips around Raiden, his head ducking sharply from the force of being lifted to a dizzying height. All the while, his eyes remain desperately fixed on the river, praying that she will pop back out of the water and fight to get him back.

“That was a rusalka,” the giant says, turning his hand to make Raiden face him. “You’re lucky she’s less than a century old, or the enchantment would never wear off.”

As it sinks in that she is long gone, all the fight seems to vacate his body, and he experiences the exertion of their journey to the river. 

“Pretty lady,” Raiden says again, this time accusingly at the giant gaze staring him down.

The giant rolls his eyes—his passive expression looks almost human when he does that. “Pretty lady would have devoured you over the course of several weeks. Starting with your limbs, saving your idiotic brain for last.”

“So?” Raiden blinks heavily. “Better than being devoured all at once by you.” He wants to say more, but he’s exhausted, dehydrated, and starving. Each pulse of his heart makes his infected wound rattle with agony. It’s a wonder his heart is beating at all—the rusalka swam far, far away with it.

The leshy gives him an unimpressed look and mutters something about wanting to throw him in the river. 

The world shifts entirely again as the giant begins walking away from the water. His grip doesn’t let up in the slightest. As Raiden finally begins to succumb to the hell his body and mind have been put through in the past twelve hours, his head lolls forward and darkness starts to set in. He can’t even muster a word of protest about how badly he wants to be thrown in the river.

((Author’s note: I mean, who wouldn’t be swayed by a pretty lady?? The leshy’s just jealous because the rusalka got all Raiden’s attention smh.))

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