#can some please end my miserable existence

[tvxqmylove]

Let's raise our glasses to Izzy and OFMD creators

I just have to get it off my chest, I understand Izzy's death came as a shock and very upsetting event for many, and a lot of people are going on and on about how he deserved a better fate and how he was not just some tool to serve someone else's story. Please try to calm down and see the bigger picture. 

It is now clear that he was always meant to die. It was foreshadowed in the first minute of the second season, a ridiculous, villain's death. Being the symbolic obstacle to Stede and Ed's happiness. 

Of course that was the wrong way for him to go. When he confessed to his crush Blackbeard he got shot by him, almost died, begged to be killed, and then he even tried to kill himself. Still didn't work. It wasn’t his time yet and that was the wrong way for him to go. When he learned that he was loved and cared for after all, just not in the way he expected, he changed. He became positive, he became forgiving. Then he stopped being miserable he started genuinely wishing for the happiness of others as well, instead of being bitter about it. His death might not have a point but his life did. He had the crew's and Ed's and even Stede's back, and they knew it. As David Jenkins stated, he played the role of a wise mentor that was passing along his life experiences to others. Then it was his time. Also, as foreshadowed, he symbolically took away Blackbeard, and opened a way for Stede and Ed as well.

A happy ending is not only walking off to sunset with a lover, taking up a new job or walking into a house of your family and petting your dog before you close the door. A good death, and a life well-lived is a happy ending. Leaving behind people that loved you is a happy ending. This was a happy ending for him. 

He lived the way he wanted, as a pirate, an infamous one that has received respect and recognition. Then he resolved the parts of his life that became problematic and toxic, he repaired the relationships

that was broken, he forgave the people he needed to forgive. After going through hell, he was basically a bubble of positivity, going around giving solid advices, encouraging people and partying. He was done. He gave the best damn speech of his life at a bar like giving his own eulogy and it was awesome. He died at the arms of the person he loved the most. 

Yes he could have had more, everyone that ever died could have had more. But he died gracefully and complete, surrounded by people he loved and cared about, knowing that they will be fine. That was his story. I am sad that he died, but he died beautifully, best you can hope for in a pirate life. And he will live on, in the hearts of the people he touched by his existence. 

Finally, never harass the creators. It is their hard work that gave us Izzy in the first place. Trust their creative process, and afterwards take it or leave it, do not harass them and try to put them in a box of your personal demands. If so, what kind of 3rd season can we even expect?

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

A Deal | Vox x Gen Z Reader

A/N— Decided to turn my little drabble into a little series of one-shots based off of ideas I come up with and any requests y'all may have for it 💅🏻 ALSO a huge thank you to @writteninlunarlight-years for the idea that inspired me to kickstart the series! It's very much 'enemies to lovers' core (kinda, I guess?), but I have no idea how far this will go lol. Hope everyone enjoys this — sorry it took so long :)

Warnings: Reader is implied female, Valentino existing, mentions of souls being owned, reader is close to being an overlord

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: You were a growing threat — and what better way to keep an eye on said threat, than to have you start living under the same roof as three of the most influential overlords in Hell? This is only the beginning. . .

Since your arrival to Hell, things had been nothing short of interesting — from your offers that couldn't be refused, all the way to the demon's that warily approached or backed off when you were near.

It was quite the spectacle.

You were quickly rising within the ranks of Hell, from a mere sinner to damn near an overlord — for all the souls you claimed in a few short months. It was noticeable — your social climbing.

What you hadn't expected was two overlords reaching out in the same day, both itching for some sort of deal.

You'd heard whispers of the feared Radio Demon and practically laughed at the thought of people being scared of him — sure his smile was off-putting, but other than that, you didn't really see the hype.

So when he approached you outside of the Café you'd began to frequent, striking up casual conversation as if you were old friends, you quickly understood what was going on.

He was powerful. You were becoming more powerful. He offered guidance and you knew there was a 'but' coming.

When it dropped, you sighed, before sipping on your warm beverage.

"I can offer you guidance, and in return, I want your soul as a pledge of undying loyalty, my dear!" He made a hand motion, as if he planned on writing your name in the stars — could you even see the stars from Hell?

"I'm sorry — but other than guidance, what do I get out of it? I've done well on my own for the last six months."

Protection. Respect. Free housing. It had almost been tempting — especially the free housing, especially in that economy. . . But in the end, you had told him that you'd think about it.

In reality, you wouldn't.

Giving up your freedom for half the shit you could get on your own? He had you fucked up.

Then there was Vox; the wide open rival of Alastor. You'd actually seen him around, having been in a couple clubs he was coincidentally visiting at the same time.

When he approached you, it was three hours later and you were actively sending a message to the group chat of demons whose souls you owned, over Sinstagram. You were simply reminding them of the consequences if they took the food that CLEARLY had your name written on it.

You didn't care that you were sitting in a restaurant — if any of them touched that leftover sub quarter, you'd kill them, and not in a funny or ironic way. You'd actually kill them double dead with no return. 

When you looked up, he questioned your business with 'the fossil' and was met with a blank stare rather than words.

He clarified that he meant Alastor.

"Oh. I don't have any." You replied simply, reading the few messages that popped up on screen.

At the revelation, he was pleased and began listing off all of the things he could provide that Alastor 'would fail miserably at'.

Money. Protection. Respect. A sounding board for ideas. Anything your heart desired. All at a small cost of being under his surveillance almost 24/7.

That snatched your attention away from the two demons who began arguing in their native languages. Did you understand them? Fuck no. Would you be translating that later? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

"And what's in it for you?" You asked the TV demon. You didn't like the thought of being under surveillance and having little to no privacy, but his deal had already been sweetened by Vox not wanting your soul.

"Power all the way around. With my influence, you can be a billion times better than that staticky prick. You'll practically have demons begging on their knees."

"Tempting." You admitted.

"What do you think?"

"Eh, fuck it. Why the hell not?"

From there it was a flurry of events — you remembered eating, but then you were leaving with Vox and then quickly found yourself in a meeting room with the other Vees and shit you had to sign, stating that you wouldn't spill any details of the inner workings of any of the three companies.

Who did he take you for?

Once you read each document thoroughly, making sure it wasn't a contract for your soul, you signed your name on the tablets screen and sat back in your seat, pulling out your phone to begin translating the argument from the beginning.

"Great! Ground rules — our private spaces are off limits unless we explicitly tell you otherwise, that includes bedrooms, offices, and basically everything that isn't a —"

"Uh-huh, got it." You mumbled — snorting at the beyond creative insults that began to flood the screen in English.

"Listen—"

"It's my nap time, TV boy. If you can put this conversation in a text, do it." You sighed, stretching your limbs. They popped as you stood — who showed these fuckers how to make gifs of each other?

Oh.

You did. HA!

"You know I can kill you, right?" Vox questioned, his claws digging into the table.

"So could a really motivated duck — or a Canadian goose. Those things are straight out of Hell, Box."

"It's Vox." He growled.

Ooh spicy. "Whatever —"

"Can you be serious for five minutes?"

"Ok boomer."

His screen glitched and his claws dug further into the desk as he stared at you.

Velvette barked a laugh and looked away from her phone long enough to see Vox on the verge of malfunctioning, a smirk slipping onto her face. "Can we keep her? I like this one."

"This one's more tolerable than the last." Valentino mused, blowing his smoke into the air. He leaned forward in his seat, uncrossing his legs. "And we don't even know her name."

"The name's Y/N. Don't wear it out." You winked before turning around and exiting the door you had been ushered through, however long ago. The moment the door closed, you heard Vox angrily talking with Velvette and Valentino, who were much calmer than the TV overlord.

Oh, this will be fun. A good idea, for sure.

Thirty minutes later, when you were in the room Vox had told you was yours, both Velvette and Valentino followed you on Sinstagram before adding you to the Vees official group chat.

Your first week living with the Vees went by rather quickly — of course, you respected their privacy as requested, spending most of your time in your room or the common areas which mostly consisted of the kitchen, living room, and game room.

Still, you'd managed to piss Vox off three more times, and got Velvette and Valentino to join in without trying.

Velvette quickly picked up your terminology, calling Vox a boomer at any given opportunity. It pissed him off to no end. Valentino had only done it twice, mostly because they both spent a lot of time working and only interacted with Vox when he had the time to.

Within the first seventy-two hours, you noticed the weird obsession Vox had with Alastor and you sarcastically quoted a scene from a movie at dinner that night.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

And he had looked at you weirdly, pausing mid rant. Later you had to explain to the other two that it was from a movie — and who Agent Romanoff was.

Vox avoided you mostly, which you chalked up to him thinking you were annoying. Good.

By the end of the first month, Velvette had you chilling with her while she worked, usually with you being the sounding board for her ideas.

More often than not, you had good ideas.

That little fact prompted her to throw you a sketch book, telling you to get to work.

You were getting paid to be there, so whatever.

When you weren't with Velvette, you were declining Valentino's countless invitations to sit with him while he worked — you wanted nothing to do with that. Porn wasn't really your thing, even when you were alive, but you had a bunch of friends who were super into it.

Instead you went out alone, claiming you were getting lunch for yourself. You'd get lunch, after making a few deals with wayward demons who would thrive under your influence.

That one particular day, you hadn't noticed either presence behind you, until a fight broke out, causing you to turn around to see Alastor and Vox going at each other's throats — and not in an interesting way.

You somehow broke it up just after Alastor cracked Vox's screen.

"Why the fuck are you here?" You bit out harshly, directed at the two overlords who now stood three feet apart like scolded children, neither pleased to be there.

"You left without saying anything." Vox crossed his arms.

"You hadn't reached out, my dear." Alastor hummed, distastefully glancing over at the TV demon.

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Listen, get the fuck over yourselves! At this rate, I answer to Velvette, not the two of you boomers. Got it?"

Alastors eyes began to twitch as static filled the air, whereas Vox's cracked screen glitched as you walked away.

Later, when Vox approached you, you noticed that his screen was fixed. That was good.

"Got a minute, [Y/N]?" He questioned.

You looked up from the sketch book in hand and nodded, mumbling 'sure' as you closed it. You were tired from the long day.

So his next question caught you off guard.

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Why do you purposely piss me off? You get along with everyone else, yet you call me names and disrespect my entire existence. Why?"

You sighed, not really having a real answer. "That's just the way I am, how I've always been. . . And in my defense, I call everyone names. . . Not just you. So, don't think you're special, Box—"

"— Vox —"

"I'm a bitch to everyone, just most don't realize it because their bitch scale broke a long time ago. Now, go. I have shit to do that doesn't involve stroking your fragile ego."

Vox wasn't sure what it was, but he knew he was going to keep a closer eye on you. What was so different about you?

You were close enough in biological age to Velvette, yet while there were similarities, there were so many differences. . . He wasn't sure what to think about any of it. Especially with you climbing up the power ladder.

[sister-lucifer]

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don��t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

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

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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

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[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

Masterlist

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or keep reading down below~

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

-

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.” 

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.” 

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.” 

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.” Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “NEVER.” 

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine. You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you. 

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize. 

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously. 

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you. 

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight. 

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can. 

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else. 

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

-

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

[isa-beenme]

Hello!! Do you think you could right a sort of enemies to lovers relationship with Azriel? Maybe where he and the reader get into a heated argument, and the bond snaps when the tension hits its peak? If this doesn’t inspire you, please don’t feel as though you have to accept my request! This is my first attempt at making a request, so I apologize if I did it incorrectly. Also, I wanted to note that your writing style is one of my favorites, and I hope you are proud of your work! That’s all, thank you for your time!!

THE SOOOOOOOOOONG

Listen to it please thank you

Loved your request, darling, it's actually much better when you send the whole story, I usually struggle when I try to think of a whole story alone (I swear I'm creative but it's hard to get things in your head out of nothing)

I try to be proud of my work as much as I can, thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

THIS WORK was sooooooo fun to do, I swear at some moment while I was writing this I laughed at my own story, super cool

I thought: "I'm gonna make this super serious" amd ended up with this, which is much better

This Is Love

Your family always meant everything to you. Being Rhysand's cousin meant you would be inserted in everything he did. Being his second in command meant you would be involved in every plan. And being all of that meant you would be part of his Inner Circle, which automatically involved you in everything they did together. From training, to family dinner and trips around the Courts for the meetings, you did all together. And you loved it. Again, your family meant everything to you, and spending time with them was on your top list of favorite things to do. I mean, when a certain Shadowsinger wasn't completely involved.

Working with Azriel was always fine, perfectly fine, actually. Rhysand often paired you up together to work because everything fell into place with the two of you. Your mind always seemed to think like one. But that teamwork only made itself present when the topic was your position towards the court and your job. Outside that, you both were a mess. Training with him was a dread, from him pinpointing each - non-existent - mistake, to you lashing yourself on him each time he made you angry, it's been more than 250 years of both of you trying to win one another in the training. It never happened.

Family dinner was also horrible since both of you had very different visions in every single topic someone started, not just that, somehow, no matter how many times you and Azriel changed seats with someone, it doesn't take a week until you find yourselves seated next to each other again. On top of that, you and he possess the ability to winnow, yet, Rhysand always thought it was necessary for you to winnow together. No matter how many times you said it wasn't necessary, Rhys only ignored you, the necessity of traveling with him making you hate your life just a little bit more.

But if spending time with your family was on your top favorite things to do, game night with Azriel was on your top things to make yourself miserable. It was a common scene for the rest of the Inner Circle to see you and him screaming at each other at some point. Sometimes one of you thought the other was cheating. Sometimes you started saying the other was winning too many times and should be taken out of the game. Sometimes it was the complete opposite, "if you lose so much, maybe you should step back and stop occupying space". Tonight it wasn't different, your favorite fight was ready to start as Azriel explained the rules to the new game.

Besides the usual crackling tension between you and Azriel, this night seemed to be at its worst peak. For weeks now, both of you seemed to be on the edge with one another, even in work, your usual camaraderie was replaced with sharp remarks and piercing glares. Everyone around the table exchanged puzzled looks, uncertain of what exactly had caused this escalating feud.

Azriel couldn't understand why every word from you grated on his nerves, nor could you fathom why Azriel's mere presence felt suffocating. The build-up of unresolved emotions and unspoken desires had been simmering for days, and now, it was about to reach its boiling point.

The Night Court's game night had started off innocently enough with your usual truth or drink game, something to light up tension (or build it, in your and Azriel's case), but as the evening wore on, the tension between you and Azriel became palpable as the Shadowsinger tried to introduce a new idea to the table. It began with a harmless disagreement over the rules of a card game, but it quickly escalated into a heated argument once the match started.

Azriel's patience was wearing thin as you challenged every decision he made during the game, the cards he dropped and the ones he chose, everything seemed horrible in your eyes. The other way around too, your matches weren't valid, you couldn't pick certain cards and no, it wasn't your turn yet. His usually calm demeanor was now strained, and he couldn't help but feel irritated by your persistent need to question him.

-I don't understand why you always have to question everything I do - Azriel snapped at some point, his shadows flickering around him as a testament to his growing frustration.

-Maybe if you didn't act like you knew everything, I wouldn't have to. "Boo, I'm Azriel and I don't let people play the game because I invented it and none of you understand how to play it" - You quickly shot back, their voice laced with sarcasm

The room fell silent, and your friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the mounting tension between the two of you. But there was no going back now; the floodgates had opened, and all the pent-up emotions were rushing to the surface.

-I don't act like I know everything, and I don't talk like that - Azriel retorted, his voice tight with anger - I just wish you'd stop acting like you have all the answers! Sometimes it is okay to listen to help because, guess what? I indeed invented the game and there's no way of you learning how to play it, if you don't listen to the rules!

-Well, forgive me for not blindly following you like everyone else. I'm not afraid to question things when they don't make sense! - Your eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as you shot back.

-And I'm not afraid to take action instead of endlessly debating every damn decision! - Azriel's temper flared, his wings twitching in agitation.

-I think what you're really good at is fucking my life! - Your family gasped at your words, shocked by the intensity.

-It's just a payback for every headache you give me every time you breathe near me - They quickly turned their heads to Azriel, equally shocked by his response.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed as if you were both about to explode. Your family exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to intervene in the escalating argument. But just as the situation reached its breaking point, a strange shift occurred. As Azriel locked eyes with you, an unexpected intensity replaced your anger. It was as if the universe itself had decided to step in, forcing you to confront the undeniable truth.

The room seemed to blur around you as you stood there, chests heaving from the heated exchange. The fight had reached its peak, and in that very moment, the mating bond snapped into place. The sudden connection was overwhelming, a rush of emotions and sensations that neither of you could comprehend. Your anger dissolved into confusion and shock as you felt an unexplainable pull towards each other.

Azriel's wings, once tense and defensive, now softened, as if beckoning every step you unknowingly took closer. Your guard came down as well, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your friends watched in astonishment as two adversaries stood there, seemingly lost in a world of their own. The room is filled with a charged silence, the kind that accompanies a revelation that changes everything. Even if none of them knew exactly what revelation was going on at that moment.

But as the realization set in, Rhysand and Feyre exchanged knowing smiles. It was no secret for them that you and Azriel had an underlying connection, a bond waiting to be acknowledged. They had witnessed the chemistry and unspoken feelings simmering between the two of you, and now, it seemed the universe had decided to intervene.

Your eyes met Azriel's once again, and this time, there was no irritation or hostility. Instead, there was an undeniable spark of understanding and attraction, a recognition of the emotions that you had been hiding from each other. Neither of you spoke a word, yet you communicated on a deeper level, the mating bond solidifying your connection at each passing second. It was as if all the walls you had built around your heart came crashing down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to him.

As the reality of the mating bond settled in, your heart raced with confusion and fear. You couldn't understand why fate would choose someone you had built such animosity towards to be your mate. Feeling overwhelmed and unable to face the truth, you turned around and ran, needing time and space to process the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Azriel, though taken aback and hurt by the sudden rejection, couldn't ignore the pull of the bond drawing him to you. With determination, he chased after your steps, his heart heavy with worry and longing. He caught up to you as you were getting closer to your room. Gently reaching out to touch your shoulder, you recoiled as if his touch burned.

-Please, let's talk - Azriel pleaded, his voice tinged with sadness - I never wanted to hurt you. The fights... They were a defense mechanism, a way to hide my own feelings and protect myself from the pain of loving someone who seemed to hate me. You started this, I just… Thought I should defend myself.

-But why you? Why did it have to be you? - You whispered, voice breaking with emotion. Azriel's eyes softened, and he took a step closer, his hand hovering near your face, yearning for the connection you both feared and desired.

-I wish I had an answer for that. All I know is that the bond doesn't choose who we love, it just binds us to our other half. And for some inexplicable reason, it chose us - He could see the pain in your eyes and knew that he needed to be honest, to show vulnerability despite his fears of rejection - The truth is, the more you fought me, the more I fell for you. Your fire, your strength, everything about you drew me in. But I was terrified of what it meant, so I pushed you away.

-I didn't know what to do with my feelings either - You admitted, opening a place in your heart that you swear to never look at again - I tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it only made things worse. Every fight, every argument, it was just a way to hide how much I… I wanted to be by your side. Everything was simple with them but you? You made me feel things and I didn't want it - Azriel's heart ached at your words, and he took a step closer, finally touching your cheek gently.

-We can figure this out together. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be here for you, to understand you, and for you to understand me - Tears finally spilled from your eyes, as you looked into Azriel's soulful gaze, feeling the sincerity of his words.

-It won't be easy, but maybe we can try - You gave in, hugging him tightly, filling the void in your soul that you ignored for so long.

You and Azriel knew that you had a journey ahead, to step down from the fights and finally accept the truth that maybe, just maybe, you both were meant to be. Even in disagreement you found a way to each other. Although you would definitely keep your provocations going and Azriel would stay at your feet for anything you did, that was your way of loving and for the first time you were fine knowing what tomorrow would bring.

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

[Post-Credit Scene]

The Inner Circle sat around the table, looking perplexed and bewildered after the explosive game night that had just taken place. None of them could quite wrap their heads around what had unfolded. Nestha glanced at Cassjan, who raised an eyebrow, silently communicating his own confusion. Feyre and Rhysand seemed to be the only ones who understood the situation, but none of them made a move to say something as they kept talking to each other in their minds.

-So, did anyone understand what just happened? I mean, they are usually weird around each other but… This weird? It's worrying - The general scratched his head and finally gathered the courage to say something.

-Beats me. The brute is right. But I have to admit, seeing them argue like that is always quite entertaining. It's the only reason I've been coming for the past centuries, honestly - Amren replied with a snarl, eyes rolling as she threw her cards on the table.

-Oh, for sure! It was like watching a drama unfold right in front of us every week. But I can't believe they just bolted like that. Do you think they're okay? - Mor inquired, a mix of amusement and worry kicking in.

-If I had to bet I would say they are killing each other - Cassian said, playing with the deck of cards.

-Or fucking - Nestha chimed in with a laugh - I mean, when I didn't accept the mating bond with Cassian I acted exactly like them. If you don't understand the feeling you might as well hurt the person you hold those feelings for - Everyone seemed to agree as the bets started to grow around the table.

-Knowing those two, they probably needed some time alone to sort things out. Maybe it's an understanding finally kicking in - Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief - The group exchanged curious glances, trying to understand their High Lord.

-Well, whatever it is, we can't say it was unimportant. That was probably the most explosive family game night we've ever had - Feyre couldn't help but add with a grin.

Just then, the door to the game room creaked open, and you walked in with Azriel by your side, hand in hand, with smiles on your faces. The Inner Circle's jaws dropped in disbelief as they took in the sight in front of them.

-What the...? How did you...? What? - Cassian sputtered, at a loss for words.

-You know, it's funny how things work out sometimes - Azriel looked around at their stunned faces and chuckled.

-Yeah, we had a little heart-to-heart and sorted some things out. Turns out, we had a lot of misunderstandings to clear up - You and Azriel smiled at each other, making the whole Inner Circle shocked.

-So, you two aren't going to be at each other's throats anymore? - Amren raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming.

-Oh, we definitely will - You said when you looked back at them, your head finding its way to Azriel's shoulder.

-Just not today - He said and kissed you head, hearing some gasps from the table.

-Are we witnessing a truce? - Mor whispered to the General, who just shuddered, as confused as her.

-Let's just say we have a newfound understanding of each other - Azriel replied, you and him sharing a knowing look.

-Well, that's a relief! We were starting to wonder if you two were going to start a war right here in the Night Court - Feyre laughed, reaching out for her mate's hand.

-Glad to see you've made up. Just... maybe tone it down during future game nights? - Rhysand smiled after clearly speaking mind to mind with the Shadowsinger.

-Okay, so… the rules of the game? - Nestha questioned, her cards still secured in her hands.

-It doesn't matter right now, you can choose it - Az said, making everyone turn their eyes to him. Shock covered every face in the room. Never, in their lives, do they think Azriel would give up on something. They turned their eyes to you, expecting some remark.

-Yeah, you guys can keep going - A wave of gasps and terrorized looks were exchanged between your family - I think Az might be hungry, aren't you?

-I might be. Will you make me something? - He asked, getting so close to you that your noses almost touched.

-It will be my pleasure - You said before dragging him towards the kitchen, not even noticing the mouths of the Inner Circle opened.

-Uh uh, no. I prefer the war. Tell them to come back and fight again, I don't like the way things worked - Mor leaned back in her chair, disbelief covering her posture.

-You know what? I think this interaction was more scary than the Cauldron - Amren said, finally giving up her cards as she threw them on the table.

-Come on, it can't be that bad, right? - All of the older members looked at Nestha with scared faces, even Rhysand, who knew exactly what happened between the two of you - Okay, apparently it is.

-What do we do now? - Feyre finally asked after silence filled the room.

-We hope that this Court doesn't crumble down - That was all that Rhysand said as he began separating the cards again, a whole new game starting that night.

[bloodredfountainpen]

Human Packbonding: Spontaneous Adoption

One of my favorite of the HASO tropes (specifically a sub trope of the human packbonding trope) is humans as the ultimate parents, specifically humans having the propensity to adopt random kids from bad situations. I love me some found family, sue me. Here’s a little three part (maybe more) diddy I wrote a while ago with this trope as the base.

Merc and Floof

Six months. I’ve been on this Odin-forsaken planet for six fucking months. It is a miserable existence, hunting monsters in the desert wasteland with no gratitude from the locals. The lords who hired me think their pitiful pay thanks enough, and the common folk resent me for being on the lord’s payroll. Not to mention the sandy terrain, beating heat, and oh yeah, the fucking monsters I’m killing. Once my contract is up, credits be damned, I’m getting out of here. I’d rather sleep on the streets than stay here any longer than physically possible.

… or at least that’s what I’d say if I didn’t have a husband and son to provide for. My mercenary work is the only thing keeping them fed, and as much as I’d like to go home to be with them, I know they can’t live off his teacher’s salary alone. Sometimes I think about abandoning my post and taking the next shuttle off planet, but those are just my intrusive thought speaking. Realistically, I’ll be staying on this planet for a few more years at least. Jesus titty fucking christ, If hell exists I am in it. Now, I know this sounds like I’m throwing myself a pity party here, but I assure you I’m not. I’m just telling it how it is.

The brooding mercenary was roused from his trance when a young Lycan tugged at his cloak. She was small, thin, and would be dangerously fluffy if not for the grime and sand caked into her fur. She was wearing what to any Terran would be easily identified as a potato sack but to the Lycan was a passable dress. She was shivering in the nighttime cold, breath nearly forming into steam before her, and yet, in perfect Terra Communis, she spoke.

“Um, ahem. My master, Lord Mokta, would like to formally invite you and a guest of your choice to dine with him and his wife in his estate in an hour. If you’ll please let me know your plan I’ll run it back to his lordship.”

“Master huh? What are you, some kind of slave?”

“Um no, not really. I’m an indentured servant for his lordship, my parents made the contract. I’ll be free once I can pay out the contract value or when I come of age, which ever comes first.”

“And how much do you get paid?”

“I don’t, I rely on the kindness of strangers like you.”

“That sounds a lot like slavery to me… So then, what’s the contract value?”

At this point, the mercenary’s interest had been piqued. He scarcely knew what he would with the information he would obtain, he only knew that his ravenous curiosity would be stated only once he knew.

“… it’s 50 credits sir.”

50 credits? Did he hear that right? Only 50 measly credits could buy this sweet girl’s freedom? He could afford to not eat for a few days if it meant this girl, whose name he didn’t even know, would get to go free. He pulled out a 50 cred stick and pressed it into the girl’s paws.

“That should cover it then, now how would you like to be my guest to Mokta’s dinner?”

Instead of simply accepting like the stoic mercenary expected, the girl burst into tears and fell to the ground. She sat there on her knees, hyperventilating, sobbing, and thanking the bewildered mercenary profusely. It was a sight to behold, and the mercenary was finding himself increasingly uncomfortable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to use words to quell the girl’s tears. This effort only exacerbated the storm of emotion and in the end, the mercenary wrapped the girl in his arms and let his heartbeat and breathing steady her own. Once she had calmed enough to be spoken to, the mercenary did so.

“So then, what is your answer? Will you or will you not accompany me? If we don’t get going now, we’ll be late.”

“Yes, I’d love to go with you! But are you sure my dress is ok?”

“If it’s good enough for his messenger, it’s good enough for his guest. Let’s get on then.”

It was quite the upset when the cloaked mercenary, sword at waist and ragged girl in tow, strode into the banquet hall. The Lycan with the fanciest robe, Lord Mokta the mercenary assumed, was especially outraged. He shouted to the mercenary.

“Human! Why aren’t you dressed properly?! This kind of disrespect would have you beheaded if you were my subject!”

“Good thing I’m not your subject then. I don’t own one of your fancy robes, nor any Terran formal wear. It was either my day cloak and ceremonial sword or my power armor and machine gun, which would you prefer?”

“I…, you…” he sputtered, “all right, just take your seat here. Messenger girl, get back to the quarters!”

“Wait now, she’s my guest. You did say I could have one guest, right?“

“Guest?! She’s my indenture and she will obey my commands!”

The mercenary patted the girl on her shoulder, encouraging her foreword.”

“Lord Mokta, this is a fifty credit stick.” She held it up to him, “as such, my contract is paid off and I don’t have to do what you say anymore.“

The mercenary cracked a small grin, a rarity for him on this hell world.

“That’s right, and as a free person I’ve chosen her as my guest. Now then, please make a place for my darling girl.”

It was just then that his holo pad pinged with a job offer in his home system for ten times the pay, and he knew everything would be alright.

This girl must be some kind of lucky charm, I should thank her, and probably learn her name as well.

As the unlikely pair strolled through the moonlight, the girl, now well fed, began to shiver again. Taking his responsibility as her father, the mercenary passed her his own cloak.

I’m a hardened soldier, and she’s just a little girl, after all. She needs it much more than I do.

The girl, for her part, began to tear up again and the mercenary knew he needed to nip that in the bud. A constantly crying wolf girl would not fly on earth, he’d be lucky not to find himself in jail. He spoke to the girl, keeping his tone even but serious.

“Hey, is the cloak ok? Are you still cold?”

“N-no I’m warm now. Th-thank y-you so much, f-for everything! For the f-food and for p-paying off-f my contract. I was w-wondering what happens to me now? I mean, I can’t go back to his lordship’s house and I w-wouldn’t want to impose on you b-but…”

“Oh I thought that was obvious, I’m taking you back to my planet and adopting you… That is if you want to of course. I have a husband who will love you, and a son about your age who would be thrilled to have a sister.”

“You’re adopting me?! That’s awesome! And I get two dads and a brother, frick yeah!”

“That’s good, some enthusiasm will serve you well. Oh I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your name?”

“… I don’t have one. A name is something to be earned when you pay off your contract or come of age. But I didn’t pay off my own contract, you paid it for me. I guess, if I have to have a name, could you maybe pick one for me?”

“Very well…” The mercenary became pensive, mentally going through a list of names, but none fit the fluffy anomaly at his side. Eventually, his thoughts turned back to the job offer that had came in earlier. Of course he had accepted, he’d be insane not to. Ten times the wages, and within a day’s commute of his family… a true miracle. He knew what name to give her.

“How does Fortuna sound to you? It means good luck where I come from.”

“I love it, cause I’m the luckiest girl alive!”

“No, I am the luckiest man for finding you.”

Merc and Floof: The Gaurdian

I hate spaceports. Between the long lines, the crowds, and always being on security’s radar, they are the worst place ever. That’s what I would say before I traveled with Fortuna anyway. I officially apologize to all parents who travel with kids, my condolences. This is a whole other layer of hell. I have been awake for nearly twenty four hours straight and our flight leaves in two, my daughter is terrified that someone will take her away from me and so she won’t let go of my cloak, and I almost got into a fight with a security agent because the moron tried to take my sacred sword. Do these blockheads not understand the concept of a ceremonial weapon? It hasn’t left the sheath in years and I have proper documentation for it. But no, they had to try to put it in a ‘travel case’ and store in in the plane. Well, the tenets of my oath dictate that my weapon shall not leave my side and so I was prepared to duel for my honor. Luckily, the guy backed off and got his supervisor, who worked everything out, and we got to our flight on time. Gods, I hate spaceports.

The exhausted mercenary was roused from his near coma by his daughter tapping on his shoulder. Towering above him stood two bovid security guards, one tapping his foot impatiently.

“Huh? Oh yes, what seems to be the problem?”

“Sir, we’re going to need to ask this girl some questions. We’ll be just over there, now come with us little girl.” At this, the already quite diminutive lycan shrank back and clung desperately to her father’s cloak. This set off the mercenary’s paternal instincts, who first glared to the security guards, then comforted his daughter.

“It’s ok sweetie, just tell the truth and there shouldn’t be any issues. I’ll be keeping my eyes on you too, so if anything goes wrong I’ll be right here.” With a reassuring headpat, the girl was sent off. The human watched the three like a predator waiting to strike. He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles ached, ready to launch into a fight at a moment’s notice. Going to jail would be a small price to pay for defending his daughter.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was only about five minutes, the now teary eyed lycan came scampering back to her father, immediately gripping her tiny paws back onto the mercenary’s cloak. Seeing her distress, the now furious human looked the bovids in the eye and spoke, his voice chilling the room.

“Why is my daughter crying? If you hurt her I will pay you back ten times over.” The guards, in spite of their clear physical advantage, backed down.

“No sir, she was just eager to get back to you. You two are fine, thank you for your patience.”

The mercenary sighed, this was not an uncommon occurrence. At the last spaceport, they’d been stopped no less than three times, each time eager to find some reason to take his daughter away from him. He looked around as he cared for his little girl, acknowledging the disgusted looks from the rest of the people waiting at the gate. Thankfully this was the last leg of their journey, they’d soon be on earth. He couldn’t wait to see the rest of his family again.

Merc and Floof: The Dichotomy of Man

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

splat

Ka-plunk

boom

“Two down, three to go.”

The mercenary whispered under his breath as he loaded up another shell into his shoulder mounted artillery. Part of him felt good having his power armor on after four days of travel, but the other, much louder part, was getting impatient. All he had to do was kill three more of these buggers and he could get back to the barracks for a video call home. He was anxious to see how Fortuna was adapting to life on Earth, and how his husband and son were adapting to the surprise adoption. He hadn’t exactly had time to call back and check with Elliot and Grayson before bringing home another kid, so when he showed back up out of the blue with a random new daughter in tow, there were shocked looks all around.

Unfortunately for the mercenary, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of time to get everyone used to the new situation, as he had to catch a shuttle to Mars the next morning. He knew that Elliot would never throw Fortuna out, and that Grayson was a good kid who wouldn’t even think of bullying anyone. Still, his upcoming call home would tell him if he’d made a mistake in unilaterally adding Fortuna to the household. He hoped not, but he wasn’t the one who took care of the kids most of the time.

Skreee

“Oh shit!”

The mercenary’s thoughts had wandered, and the last bugger, a massive mantis looking fucker, had managed to sneak up behind him and was now trying to melt his power armor off with its acid spit. The mercenary, liking his power armor unmelted thank you very much, grabbed the bugger by its spikes and ripped it straight in half.

“Well, that’s going to take some buffing out.”

He sighed as he signaled for the cleanup team and began to make his way back to the transport. Soon enough, a smile creeped its way up his lips as he looked forward to his rapidly approaching call home.

… … …

The mercenary, now changed out of his power armor, tapped his foot as he waited for the call to connect. Waiting just seconds was now taking a greater toll than the week of waiting that preceded it.

da-ding!

In an instant, all of the mercenary’s stress melted away as the image of his loved ones sitting together on their familiar blue couch appeared on the screen. As soon as the kids saw their dad, they began to smile, and the mercenary knew everything would be alright.

“Daddy!”

The young kids shouted out in unison, the young wolf girl’s tail smacking against the couch. The simple, oversized clothes scrounged up by the mercenary before their flight from her homeworld had been replaced by a comfy set of pink pajamas.

“Hey kiddos, have you two been good while I’ve been gone?”

The mercenary wasn’t really asking, he knew that his children had been on their best behavior. He just wanted to hear them talk about how they’d been doing, their voices like water to a man dying of thirst.

The young boy spoke first, “Yeah, we’ve been good! I taught Fortuna howda play connect four, she’s really good at it, she even beat me two times inna row.” He mumbled out the last phrase, indignant embarrassment painted in his body language.

“Really? Grayson Constanza, the connect four champion of the world, lost to a newbie?”

The wolf girl piped up, puffing out her chest in pride. “Heck yeah! I beat him good!”

The mercenary smiled with contentment, he’d be home with them next week. All he had to do was wait.

After chatting with the kids for about fifteen minutes, the little ones were sent off to bed and he was alone with his husband.

“Bruno, how have you been? How’s the new job?”

“I’m doing better now that I’ve seen you and the kids. The new job’s alright, much better than the last one, but I can’t wait to come home.”

“And I can’t wait to have you here. I have to admit, I was about ready to pummel you into the ground when you showed up with a random kid, but you made a good choice. Fortuna opened up to me about what she went through growing up on Lycaeus, and it wasn’t pretty. Grayson loves his new sister, even the neighbors think she’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and I really am sorry about not being able to be there for you. I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too, love.”

[qqueenofhades]

Hi Hilary! I could use some help with something. Do you know some topics for historical tangents a history professor (Hob) could go on while talking to some students? Like some interesting discussion ideas? I was not a history major and I’m now drawing a blank 😅 I’d appreciate it greatly!

"Right, morning everyone... MORNING... yes, we all do know it is morning and I would like to remind everyone that it's not my fault we were scheduled at eight bloody AM. Consider it building character. Great. Let's get started. Can we put the phones down, please. In my day we didn't even have phones. No really. We didn't. Really didn't.

Anyway, so where were we? Ah, yes. End of the Western Roman Empire circa 476 CE, which stands for the secular Common Era, which historians now generally use instead of the Christian A.D. Anno Domini, which trust me, they used when I was born, because I am very old. Ah, you're laughing again, because you think I'm joking. Which, er, I definitely am. Anyway, the so-called collapse of the Roman Empire is one of the most mythologized events in the Western historical canon, and there are accordingly a lot of misperceptions about what happened and how. As we covered in the last class -- well, can anyone tell me what we covered last class?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Come on, one of you, just raise your hands. I don't bite.

Fine, all right, I'll do it myself. Again. Last class, we covered the eventful fourth century in Roman history, where the empire split into western and eastern halves, eastern Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, and established his capital in Constantinople, which would later get the works from the Turks and become Istanbul. The western capital moved to Ravenna in 402, and it had been in Milan before that, not Rome. No longer the center of power as it had been for many centuries beforehand under both the empire and the republic, Rome was infamously sacked in 410 by the Visigoths under King Alaric I. The Supergoths. The Ubergoths. The Verygoths. The Turbogoths. All right, I'll stop. The Visigoths had formerly been a Roman client kingdom in the south of Gaul, which is the modern country of -- anyone?

Anyone? Anyone? Oh come on.

Yes, thank you Sarah, it was in fact France. See everyone? Not that hard. Now that we're up to speed, right, the so-called End of Rome in 476, when the last Western emperor, Romulus Augustulus, was deposed by Odoacer, general of the Ostrogoths. Not the Visigoths. Definitely different thing here. The Alsogoths. The Othergoths. The Ohgodthosegoths. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I swear I will actually stop. But the common narrative from then is that Rome just bloody disappeared altogether, the Dark Ages started, it was grim and miserable and murdery all the time, everyone forgot how to do scholarship or art or religion or anything else, and then miraculously a thousand years later, woo, the Renaissance! Everyone sorted their heads from their arses and could do maths again! I'm sorry about saying arses. Please don't report me to HR, they've had enough of me already. Anyway, this argument, despite its long-time supremacy in the Western historiographical canon and Western popular culture, doesn't make sense on any number of levels. And that is because? Can anyone give me just one reason to start with?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Sarah again, yes, thank you. I appreciate you greatly, Sarah. Yes, for one thing, the Eastern Roman Empire still bloody existed! It was literally that meme where we're announcing that Rome is dead, Constantinople wants us to stop telling everyone that they're dead, and we sigh that sometimes we can still hear their voice. Yes, I know what a meme is, don't look so surprised. The city of Constantinople became the center of Roman culture and power, though we call it the Byzantine empire to distinguish it from the pre-476 Roman empire. It used Greek instead of Latin as its primary culture and language, it was Orthodox Christian instead of Catholic Christian, and while it was no longer the multinational power player that its predecessor had been, it still produced some heavy hitters. Such as Emperor Justinian in the sixth century, who actually, albeit briefly, reconquered the territories of former Rome in the west, and was married to the very fascinating Empress Theodora. We'll have to get back to her, but anyway, in the territories of Former Rome, such as modern-day Spain, France, and Germany, there were still client kingdoms who were directly descended from Rome and who premised their new independence on their Roman inheritance. The Visigoths -- yes, them again -- in Spain, the Merovingians and the Franks in France, the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes in Germany, and other. So tell me, can we really say that Rome collapsed, exactly, and/or disappeared, instead of just dissipated and re-formed? We still had Latin as the language of state administration, the Roman Catholic Church as the supreme religious and cultural arbiter, and other major innovations that would last through the Middle Ages. Where does this whole Dark Ages thing come from?

Anyone?

Anyone aside from Sarah?

Oh, God's wounds. All right then. The idea that Rome disappeared overnight and took everything good with it is a projection, a fiction, popularized by proto-Renaissance and Renaissance writers who wanted to legitimize their look back into the past. We're getting ahead of ourselves, but the idea of the Dark Ages as this backward slovenly time of idiocy and misery -- it just gets me very worked up, all right?! Yes, written texts and certain other traditional markers of historic narrative became much scarcer than before, and we don't know as much about it as we do the more meticulously documented societies on either side, but it's only dark because we've decided that Rome, the brutal excessively slave-owning militaristic expansionist violent empire par excellence, was the marker of all culture and the peak of Western civilization for all time and nobody else could ever come close! This is how we get bloody Game of Thrones insisting that the medieval era was always filthy and dark and full of rape and violence and morally awful people -- so tell me, George, which part of your fantasy novel, the dragons or the ice zombies, were we expected to read as actual literal truth? It's just because we want to protect the idea of ourselves as so much better than people in the past, and the past itself as full of terrible violence that is somehow worse and more primitive than our violence, and that surely we could never do that because we're so much better! Which is total bullshit! Bullshit!

...yes. Thank you. Right. I'm fine. I'm absolutely fine, I apologize for that. Just a bit of a trigger for me. We'll get back to the lesson now, yes. I'm warning you, though. If you use Dark Ages uncritically in your essay, I am knocking you down a full grade. No matter what."

[luxthestrange]

KNY Incorrect quotes #18 Lone Hashira

When Master Kagaya Told the Hashira a Lone Hashira has been at Sea making sure no Demon makes it out of Japan, As you said "Cleaning from the corners to the center", You Decided to come back to meet the boy who was face to face with Muzan and to meet his demon sister...Only Two Hashira's Knew of your existence...Which Shocked the others

The Hashiras are to greet you at the port to escort you...Also Curious about who this Hashira who has been sailing

Uzui*Seeing Gyomei arrived than the rest of them and is talking with a crewmate tall and intimidatingly strong like him while giving a hand*Good morning, Captain Everything shipshape?

Crewmate: Shipshape it is, sir, but I'm not the captain. The captain's aloft*Smiles as he points to the sky*

As the Hashiras look up to see they were flabbergasted, to say the least as you come down your ship

F!HashiraY/n: Ah Gyomei, I've checked this miserable ship from stem to stern, and, as usual, it's...spot on. Can you get nothing wrong?~

Gyomei: You flatter me, Y/n

F!HashiraY/n*noticing obanai among the hashiras*Ah, The Snake Pillar , I presume?~

Obanai: Uh, um, yes. l-

F!HashiraY/n Hello!*Pokes his cheeks*Are you able to speak well?

Obanai: Yes, I can! Stop that poking?!

F!HashiraY/n If I may, Obanai, this works so much better when it's right-way up, and fasten like so-*Twirls Obanai around making a better knot on his bandages end*

Obanai: Ooh!

F!HashiraY/nLovely. There you go~

Obanai: If you don't mind, l can manage my own bandaging!*Turns around to scowl at you and point at you accusingly*

F!HashiraY/n*Grabs his hand and shakes it* I'm Captain Y/n, late of a few run-ins with the Demons and some Twelve moons- Nasty business, but I won't bore you with my scars~ You've been friends with My dear Gyoumei and Giyuu*Goes to stand next to Giyuu* Sterling, tough, dependable, honest, brave, and true!~

Giyuu*Looks away finding your big praises of him still leaving him a bit sheepish*Please, Y/n...

F!HashiraY/n*Giving him a coy smile and wink teasingly at him*Oh, shut up, Giyuu You know l don't mean a word of it~

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

...Makes sense the others wouldn't know for you given the quiet calm boys are the ones who know you

Uzui: WHY DIDN'T YOU GUYS TELL US ABOUT HER!?

Giyuu:...You didn't ask

should there be more of this?~

[strongheartneteyam]

Get your shit together so I can love you.

Pairing: human!jake sully x female!human!reader

CW: angsty, so angsty, established relationship, MIGHT BE TRIGGERING for some audiences, disabled person feeling insecure about their body, fluff, crying, yelling, cursing, sexual language, hurt, comfort, sexual content, mentions of sexual fluids, foreplay, mentions of fingering, jake touching reader's pussy. Please, tell me if I'm missing something 🥲

Author's note: This AU is set on 2009. Jake is just a regular 24 year old former marine who ended up losing the movement of his legs permanently after an unfortunate accident that happened while he was fighting for his country, amidst a terrible, unforgiving war. The reader is a 21 year old regular human girl. There is no sci-fi or aliens involved. I totally understand if it's not your cup of tea as it's almost not canon at all to the Avatar Universe. I guess I just kept most stuff canon to Jake as a character. As I said, it's an AU. Just call me Miss Marvel and call this a version of Jake that exists somewhere in the wide multiverse 😂 guys I'm way too sleepy and exhausted that I'm starting to sound a bit drunk... gonna shut my piehole up now. I hope you guys like it. ✨ I need to sleep ughhh ✨

Not proofread. Sorry, my babies, momma is always too tired n running low on time.

❃

I tapped on your window on your darkest night

The shape of you was jagged and weak

There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway

You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself

But do you know you're demolishing me?

And then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave

Renegade (Big Red Machine feat Taylor Swift)

❃

You walked to your boyfriend's house, watching the starry dark sky above. It was a full moon night, its pale light bathing your skin as you thought about how you missed Jake. You had just gotten back from a family trip yesterday and hadn't had time to go over to Jake's house to see him yet. You were so anxious to see his face again that you didn't even bother to call him to let him know you were about to come over.

When you got there, as soon as you opened the door with the copy of the keys Jake had given to you, you saw a miserable looking man sitting on a wheelchair, staring at the wall, eating a burger and fries and drinking beer. You swore to God one day you'd slap his hand and tell him to eat healthier. He ate junk food and drank way too much. His face was grumpy and a little sad at the same time. But it was your Jake. It didn't matter to you that he always looked like he was done with everything, he was so freaking handsome and charming, so, you could get past his moodiness. At the end of the day, you loved him so very deeply it made you feel like there was not enough space for so much love inside your body.

"Hey, babyyy!" You say, locking the door behind you "Sorry for not calling before coming over. I'm gonna stay the night, okay? I missed you so much..." You walked towards Jake and kissed his warm cheek, leaving the keys on a piece of furniture nearby

"Hi, baby. I missed you like crazy. I'm so glad my girlfriend is back here with me." He smiled at you. That was the first time he smiled, in a truly happy way, that night. You were the light of his life, he always felt better when you were around. He had missed you like a mad man, especially at night, when he looked at pictures of you/the both of you together on his black laptop. "And I gave you the keys for a reason. No need to say sorry. It's not like I go out on Wednesday evenings anyway.. Or any night of the week" He laughed in sarcasm. "I'm always here at this time." You laughed a bit and he took another bite of his burger

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, ok? Be right back" you said loudly as you walked to the bathroom

The day you and Jake had decided to be in a serious relationship, after you let the words "I love you" slip off of your mouth, by accident (you didn't even know if he crushed back on you, let alone reciprocating your feelings), Jake was so insecure, thinking you were just playing him, that it took him one week after that happened to finally say "I love you" back. You were getting sadder and more impatient as time passed. When he finally did, it was through texting. When you saw the message in your cellphone screen, your heart raced like a wild horse in a big forest.

ত

Later that night, you and Jake were cuddling, half sitting, half laying on the couch. Jake watched a movie on the television as you tried to read a book. But your attention span was equal to zero. You felt your boyfriend's warmth beneath your body, so comforting, so inviting. You wanted him so bad. You two had been together for almost one year and no sex had ever happened. You were starting to think that maybe he didn't find you that attractive, after all. That thought was like a rusted knife digging into your heart.

You closed your book since you couldn't go past the same sentence you were reading and re-reading all over again, too many times.

You moved your body from where it was and sat on top of Jake's legs, straddling his lap, taking him by surprise. He looked at you wondering why you suddenly gave up on your book if you had been bugging him for months about how bad you wanted to read it, but, you preferred reading a physical copy, as you told him, so he bought a copy for you that he found on sale just so you could stop talking to him about the same thing over and over. But he was actually just kidding, inside his own mind. He bought it for you because he knew you were gonna get really excited, just like a little child, and thank him by showering him with kisses. He loved being kissed by his pretty girlfriend.

"The book wasn't interesting enough, babe? Weren't you dying to read it?" He chuckled and then smiled, placing his big, warm hands on your thighs, making the small, thin hairs of that part of your body stand on end

"I just can't concentrate right now. That's all..."

"Is everything alright?" He noticed the angst in your expression

"Jake... We've been together for almost one year now, and... we haven't had sex yet. Don't you... don't you feel the need to do it with me? Do you still feel attracted to me? Why do you never try to initiate anything other than kisses and caresses? You've never even tried to touch my boobs... and you told me you loved them, over texting"

"Wait, slow down a bit" Jake asked of you and you stopped to breathe a little "Of course I feel attracted to you." He put a small lock of your hair behind your ear, so he could see your beautiful face better "I want you so bad... so fucking bad, you got no idea, girl. You drive me insane, my girl. I can't resist you when you're sitting on my lap like this" He caressed your face softly, light blue eyes staring at your own

"Then don't. Don't resist me. You don't have to. You just have to let me kiss you and touch you and show you how wet you make me, without even doing anything crazy, just by touching my skin like this and letting me sit on your lap."

"Baby, I...I can't" Jake looked down, sadness clouding his beautiful face. You hated to see your boyfriend like that. Why didn't he realize he didn't need to be so insecure? You loved him, all of him. No matter how badly he always talked about his legs or the fact that he couldn't do even basic day to day activities easily, because of his disability, you didn't care. You loved him. Freaking loved him to death.

"Why not?!" You were desperate for an explanation

"I could never be all you need. I wish I could but that's wishful thinking. Don't fool yourself, (y/n)."

Your eyes got filled with tears and you felt a lump forming in your throat. It was like your chest was sore, bruised from his harsh words.

"You are all that I want! All that I need, Jake! Why can't-"

"Don't make it harder than it already is, (y/n)!" The blonde guy interrupted you, his words colder than ice, burning your skin, already so sensitive from from taking all the hurt Jake was causing you by not letting you just simply love him right, be his girlfriend... "Get off me, please." So freezing cold...

You were a crying mess already, so, you felt so weak you just obeyed him and stood up, leaving him free from your body. Jake transferred himself from the couch to his wheelchair as fast as he could. He then started wheeling himself away from where you were

"Please...Please!" You say, chasing your crazy boyfriend like an idiot, while he moves his wheelchair fast towards his small room "stop being so insecure and just lemme love you." Jake stops, his freckled pale arms turning the wheels around so he could look at you

"Why do you insist on being tied down to a cripple?! Don't you get it?! You are so, so damn beautiful, (y/n). Your smile, your hair, your body... Jesus, your fucking body... You're so hot. You deserve... a man who can give you all that a relationship can offer. I can't be that man. I will never be him. I'm sorry you don't get it, but it's time for you to move on!!!" He yelled. You've never seen Jake so angry. His face was red, his eyes were gleaming, tears starting to roll down his face. He felt like his heart was breaking in a billion little pieces. He'd rather go through war, become traumatized and then have his spine injured all over again, because, honestly, it would hurt him less than what he was doing to you right now. But he knew he had to do it. "I love my (y/n) so much, I always will. But she should be happy, free from me." He thought

"Stop running away from me, Jacob Sully!" You ordered, as soon as you catch up to Jake, getting inside his room, your breath heavier than normal "I'm warning you, I will take you in my arms, no matter if you say you're too heavy, and I will lay you on this bed, against your will, if that's what I need to do so you will stop pushing me away! And don't ever call yourself a "cripple" again! I swear to God, you're testing me tonight! I won't let you speak like that about yourself. Never again! Do you understand me?!" You almost screamed

Jake sighed heavily, in defeat. With both arms, he started to support himself on his wheelchair, moving his body to the bed.

One he was settled there, sitting down with his back against the cushioned bed frame, he spoke: "Baby, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that... it was wrong. You don't deserve that. Please, forgive me." Looking at you with those eyes he had you on your knees, every single time.

"It's okay..." You looked hurt but your forgave him. You wanted to try and forget that had ever happened.

"I love you... so much."

You gazed at him and felt a need to comfort him

You sat on his bed, beside him and held his hand. After some time, you and Jake were cuddling, you sitting on his lap. He brought his mouth to yours and kissed your lips. You missed his kisses so much that you got wet so easily, just like a virgin would.

Jake grabbed the back of your head with care and deepened the kiss, using his tongue to massage yours. The way he kissed you was leaving your lips slicked with his saliva. You moaned and he held tight on to your waist, heavy breathing, his warm breath colliding with your own, the two of you getting drunk on each other. His lips were crushing against yours and that felt so amazing.

Out of nowhere, he stopped the kiss and when you tried to kiss him again he gently pushed you away, seeming uncomfortable.

"I gotta stop, baby... I can't pleasure you more than this..." he looked defeated

"Of course you can. You have fingers and a mouth, don't you? Then put them to use, baby. Your girl is begging you to pleasure her. Don't you want to help me out a bit?" You started to kiss his neck gently but sloppy. You breathed his scent in. It was so familiar, so comforting to you. He smelled like home. Home, for you, was wherever Jake was, right by your side.

Jake was starting to slowly give in and he let out a breathy moan. You felt happiness creeping in your head, your heart beating faster.

Jake did something that in his mind, was so damn bold. He dared to touch you in a very intimate way - he was as nervous as a teenager having his first sexual experience - moving his hand from the bed sheet until it got to your entrance. Jake's breath faltered as he touched your coated folds gently, his chest tightening while he looked at your face. His light brows furrowing, his demons still trying to convince him that you could not be turned on because of him.

"Sweetheart, you're so soft... just so... so wet." He was getting shaky, aroused as hell, feeling how wet you were for him

He was finally ready to just relax and enjoy the moment, as he touched your coated pussy.

"Wait a bit, will ya?" You ask, getting off his lap, standing on your feet and then stripping down to him. Your clothes were laying on the floor, as you felt a little shy but excited to see his reaction to seeing your naked body for the first time.

"Fuck, my baby. How did I get so lucky? Your body is so fucking perfect...." He put his hand up in the air, towards your own hands and you grabbed it and let him sit you back on his lap.

Jake started to touch your breasts softly, his mouth slightly open, desire scorching his insides. Your skin burned so good beneath his fingers. Then, he placed his big fingers on your slit

"God, this fucking wet pussy..." he was having trouble breathing but he loved the way you messed with his head

"I'm all yours, baby. Please, just let go and make love to me. I need you so bad it hurts me physically." You begged him to put an end to your misery

"Is that what my babygirl really wants?" He murmured, his voice low and sexy, ringing on your ears

"Yes, my love. Please... I'm so wet, Jake... only for you, my baby." You felt his fingers touching your pussy and your body became limp

"I love your pussy, baby. So velvety, warm and juicy. Can't wait to slide my fingers inside of you over and over again until you're all sweaty and whimpering"

❃

[himbeereule]

Орлёнок Demo Release

Finally, the demo is here! It's not exactly January anymore, but better late than never, right?

You can play it right here!

I also made a post on the CoG forums, if you want to check it out: Link

Features include:

Meeting your family! And getting bullied.

Getting executed!

Rising from the dead!

Celebrating life by slaughtering some rebels!

(Being extremely miserable!)

Feedback:

This is, quite obviously, a work in progress. It is made available so that you, the reader, can give feedback that improves the game.

So, while you can - and should - obviously tell me whatever you want, a specific list of what I need most in terms of feedback can be found here:

Language. English is not my first language (actually, not even my second one), and I mostly read non-fiction academic works when I read in English, so my writing is certainly not at the level it should be. If you have any concrete issues, please tell me, and I'll try to learn how it can be improved.

Spelling. I don't expect much in the way of outright errors, but I do know that I mix up British and American English all the time. The intended style is American English, so please point out spellings that are wrong in that regard.

Inconsistencies. There are a lot of variations between scenes, and I'd like to make the story as immersive as possible; so, if a phrasing, a character's behaviour etc. feel like they don't fit into the choices you previously made, please tell me. In detail, if possible, otherwise I won't be able to amend it.

Sensory descriptions. AuDHD makes my brain process sensations, including visual impressions, very differently, which means I often end up forgetting those exist. Please tell me about scenes that lack description in that regard. (My first grade elementary school report card called my writing 'efficient and devoid of feelings', and I'd very much like to move past that.)

Technical problems. The code should be pretty solid, but with how complicated it is, it'd be weird if there weren't at least some problems. If you find them, please try to include as much detail as possible when telling me about it. (CS Quicktest and Randomtest are not usable due to the complexity of the code, lol.)

You liking the story. I remain thoroughly convinced that I am a worthless person who isn't able to, nor deserves to create anything, and currently my only motivation to continue this project is derived from pure stubbornness. So, if you, for some reason, actually like this demo, please tell me. It won't change my mind about how bad I think it is, but it will force me to continue in order to avoid being even more of a disappointment.

Additions. If I like your idea, I'll probably add it right away; if I'm unsure, I'll do a poll. You can get me to do almost anything if you say you're sad if I don't do it.

Formatting. Although I try to playtest as much as possible, it's not that easy with how many variations there are, and in VS Code it's sometimes hard to see how well or badly readable text passages actually are.

CWs/TWs (v0.0.1):

Graphic violence and gore

Attempted sexual assault (against the player, avoidable, f!MC only; also against an NPC if massacre route is chosen (is dealt with quickly))

Suicide attempt (by the player, avoidable; f!MC only)

Loss of loved ones

Massacre of civilians and/or PoWs (avoidable)

General misery

(please let me know if you think this needs additions)

As of yet unfinished content:

Autistic variations do not exist yet for the latter part of the demo

Only one of three locations for taking a walk available for now

Tooltips are incomplete

Asexual is not available yet, as it requires a lot of additional scene variation text

Special (psychopath) routes are missing from some scenes as they were added late in development

Choices that are locked and marked as (WIP) are unfinished

Interaction routes for Semyon/Selena, Mikhail/Marina and Leon/Leah. They are top priority for the first set of updates

It is recommended that you play this with a stable state of mind. If you choose the suffering paths because it's relatable and/or as a coping strategy, please make sure you have support available and avoid triggering yourself too much.

The whole point of this game (apart from the dress-up part) is that, no matter how bad things get, you shouldn't stop fighting. It's your enemies who deserve destruction, not you.

Please keep in mind that I am both literally insane and pretty reasonable, so: if there is anything you find grossly offensive, don't assume I meant anything bad by it. Just explain to me why you think it shouldn't exist, and if I am convinced, I will amend it.

[dsaf-confessions]

I've been in the dsaf fandom for a year or two by now lol. but like I've only been lurking and...some fans take dsaf TOO seriously. Like, no hate. none at all. but,, I wish people acknowledged more often that Dayshift at freddy's at it's core, is silly. like, all three games are full of jokes (some less than others) and that's the original premise. Yeah, there's the serious lore bits and all.. but what about the SILLY bits? Can we have the silly bits appreciated? Jack can piss for 15 minutes straight, Dave ate an entire ashtray of lit cigarette butts and lost his sense of taste after, ALL the phone guys were programmed to say "darn" and "heckin'!" as a substitute for swearing, and Dee is a tickler (not ticklish, a TICKLER she tickled Dave til his springlocks went off in the premature ending, and she can tickle Jack when in the suit to set it off if you don't wind the box). Henry is the reason why they have cameras in the fazbender's bathrooms.

I love seeing the serious bits too, but I wish people spent as much time with the silly bits as the serious ones. Even when it comes to making your own silly bits!!! Like, yess!!!! Go write that Undertale!DSAF AU. Go write about Dave and Jack as kitchen appliances. Go write about what you headcannon Dee's favorite songs and movies are. Go write about Jack having magical princess half wolf demon powers. EVEN WITH THE PAINTINGS!!! I saw a drawing of Dave and Jack in sailor moon get up and they killed it. absolutely. I know the dsaf artists out here are killing it with their art, it's all amazing and I have lovingly gazed at all of them before. and yes!!!!! Go RP as Peter Kennedy having a deep carnal desire for bird watching, go RP as Harry Fitzergald enjoying himself at an aquarium, go RP as Dave Miller spending hours trying to figure out how air fryers work so he can give it a shot at building one at home.

Please do anything your heart desires!!!!! You can look out the car window with your headphones in and listen to music while imagining sad sfms of the characters and keep it to yourself. But if you wish to share, just now that there's people out there that have been wishing someone would create what they've been imagining too!!! Make your funky spotify character playlists!! Even your youtube music ones!! Because there will be someone out there who thinks the same as you and enjoys them the same as you !!

I live for the serious ones too. Please, go write that heartfelt fic about Dave yearning for his soulless friend's presence in the afterlife. Please, go write about Jack despairing that he doesn't just stop existing after death, and is stuck in a void. Please, go write about Dee speaking to the gang in afterlife about how she wishes she had a longer childhood, and how she is sad that the very few things that made her childhood a childhood is gone and that she can never truly have it back( jack, and all the friends and lovely gifts and animals and all the joy). Please, go write about DaveTrap surviving the fire in the good ending and being miserable because no matter how much he was angry and hateful, he missed Jack, he missed having a quarrel with him, he missed asking just one more time, if Jack wanted to kill kiddins' with him, and then him having to visit Jack's grave and despairing that Jack had never lied when he told him his name. And then DaveTrap sees the other graves, all the other ones, of the kids that died at fazbender's because of fazbender's. And he also sees a grave bearing his own name. His real name. And it was right next to four other graves, of people who's names rang bells in his ears, of people with a last name he recognized, of people he remembered betting on whether or not they'll die with Henry.

AHHH I think this might be too long. i just love ranting about my ideas because as much as i have a love for writing, i can never execute the ideas. they are cursed to forever be just an idea i can share to my friends who don't like dsaf but like hearing my rambles.

So, whoever is reading this, please go enjoy the games as much as you wish!! enjoy the silly AND the serious side !!!!!

.

[vodika-vibes]

For the 650 followers AU requests, how about...

Fives x Fem Reader, Mer AU for MerMay. 🧜🏽‍♂️

Details: No use of y/n please. Reader is reluctantly part of a crew of sailors/pirates/privateers/ assigned by the island of Naboo's chancellor, Palpatine, to catch a merperson because of a legend that says something from a mer (tears, flesh, dealer's choice) grants immortality. Fives is the captured merman, and forms a bond with the reader. Bonus, merfolk CAN transform to have legs, but perhaps under certain conditions. Fives, being the cheeky, mischievous guy he is, "forgets" that humans have an aversion to public nudity. 😏 Insert awkward flustered reader at seeing a naked man for the first time 🤭

Can have some mild or hinted spice, but nothing explicit please.

The Privateer

Summary: After being assigned to the Dominion, the flagship of Naboo’s Privateer fleet, you’re miserable. The last thing you’ve ever wanted was to spend your life hunting Mermaids, even if their blood is said to grant immortality. The day your captain catches a merman is the worst day of your life. Though, you’re pretty sure it’s only going to get worse.

Pairing: Pre ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 2401

Warnings: None

Prompt: Mermaid AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I've had the idea for this for a while, it just took me a bit to get it down in a way that makes me happy. I hope you like it! Also, I really need to stop writing the summary before I write the story, lol

“So, I gotta ask,” You roll your eyes as you finish tying your bandana over your hair, and then turn to look at one of your bunkmates, “How’d you end up on The Oracle?”

“Palpatine’s order,” You reply simply as you kneel to pull your boots out from under the bunks, “What about you?”

“Same. Though I was pulled from Theeds Prison.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pins her hair back, and wraps a bandana around her hair as well, “I was a pickpocket, believe it or not.”

You laugh, “Have you ever been on a ship before?”

“Not in my life.” She flashes a wry grin, “You?”

“I used to serve on The Hush. It’s a fishing trawler.”

“You were a fisherwoman?”

“Yeah. Served on the ship since I was a kid.” You finish pulling your boots on and stand.

“Why’d you get pulled to the Oracle?”

“No one knows these waters better’n me.” You stretch your arms over your head and then grab your waistcoat from your bunk and pull it over the dark shirt you’re wearing, “I was tagged to be the navigator.”

“Alright, lemme ask you a question then, Navi—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—do you think there’s any truth to what we were ordered out here to do?” She asks, ignoring your comment.

“You’re asking if I believe in merpeople?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You fold your arms over your chest, “I think,” You say slowly, “That we know more about the stars than we do about the sea.”

“So you’re saying it’s possible?”

“I’m saying I haven’t seen any proof that they exist.” You sigh, “Honestly, “I think this is a fool's errand. The cap thinks so too. You see the look on his face when he told us what we were here to do.”

“Yeah. He looked annoyed.” Your bunkmate finishes dressing and then follows you out of the berth that you share. The pair of you are two of maybe ten women who are serving on the Oracle, the rest of the crew are all men. “Was the Oracle a fishing vessel too?”

“No. Military.” You lightly rap your knuckles on something pinned to the wall, “Well, military lite.”

“Military lite?” She asks with a smothered laugh.

“Yeah, well,” You move to the side to not get trampled by a much larger sailor, “The Oracle was one of a fleet of ships that would respond to emergencies on the water. You know like ship fires, and the like.”

“Are ship fires common?” She asks as she stops dead in her tracks.

“Keep moving, you’re holding up traffic,” You chide, and then, as she continues chasing after you, “No. Not really. But they do happen. It’s why ships like the Oracle exist.”

“So, what? The Government just took the ship and forced it to be a privateer vessel? Is that allowed?”

You shrug as you hurry up a thin flight of stairs, “Doesn’t matter so much, does it? Cause it’s what happened.” At the top of the stairs you pause, and motion to a hallway, “Galley is there. You’ll do fine.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Cook will teach you. Don’t be afraid.” You watch as the other woman hurries into the galley before you jog through the halls until you reach the bridge. You slide into the navigator’s seat, taking the pencil from the previous guy, and you scan the map.

“Morning, Navi.”

“Why are you all calling me that?” You say with a sigh.

The Captain winks at you, and then turns his gaze out the front window, “You get the new girl settled?”

“Yeah, dropped her off with Cookie.” You reply.

“Good lass, it’s nice of you to take her under your wing.”

You lean back in your seat, and point your pencil at him, “You know she’s a pickpocket, right? From Theeds.”

“Oh, I know.” The captain glances at you, and makes a face, “I’m glad I was able to keep most of my crew, and the majority of the people pulled to The Oracle are from other ships, but some of the people Palpatine gave me are all criminals.”

“What’s he thinking?”

“I don’t think he is.” The Captain scoffs, “Alright, according to the night Captain, they managed to finish searching grid blocks—” He pauses and glances at a sheet next to the helm, “Ah, here it is. Grid blocks 70 to 79.”

“They only searched nine blocks?” You ask as you turn your attention to the map and find the ship’s current location.

“Well, night searches aren’t easy. There is no sunlight, very little moonlight. Probably wanted to be thorough.” The Captain replies. 

“Alright, I have to ask. What do you think about this mission we were assigned?”

He’s quiet a moment, “Well. Orders are orders, right? But—” He trails off, “I don’t know, Navi. I grew up on the ocean, the things we don’t know could fill the library of Theeds. Anything’s possible.”

You sigh, “I dunno. It just…If merpeople are real, Cap, it feels like it would be bad luck to catch them.”

“Well, if we’re lucky, we won’t find any and can all return to our regular jobs.” The Captain sighs, “What’s our heading, Navi?”

“Due North, Cap.”

“Alright, adjust course—”

You flicker your gaze down to your map as the Captain rattles off a list of numbers and you promptly mark the ship's location and repeat the numbers to him. 

It’s roughly 6 hours later when one of the men casting the nets shouts to stop the Oracle. The Captain slows the ship to a stop and leans his head out the window, “What’s wrong?” He shouts down to his men.

“Net’s stuck, Cap!” The man shouts back, “It…gods above—” The fishing net lifts out of the water, and there, thrashing wildly in the net, is a merman.

The Captain stares at the dark-skinned merman and releases an oath so ugly and bitter that you start. “Mark our location, Navi.”

“Yes, Captain.” You reply, quickly marking the location on the map, and then scrambling to your feet to follow him out of the bridge and to the deck.

The merman is still thrashing wildly, loud and angry curses falling from his lips. You watch as the Captain scans the men and women on the deck, his lips turning down.

“Cap—”

“I know, I’m thinking.” He replies, “Most of the men on deck are mine, or come from other ships.” You scan the people on the deck and know he’s right. Most people on the deck look terrified and are backing away from the net.

The people that aren’t are the ones who Palpatine pulled from prisons.

You inhale sharply as one of the former prisoners picks up a spear and jabs the merman in the fin.

That action causes the Captain to explode. Loud and angry curses fall from his lips as he starts to yell at the former prisoners. You’ve never seen him so angry in your life.

“Navi!” He shouts.

“Captain?”

“Back to the bridge, make sure we don’t drift.” He orders. He flickers two fingers towards you, a hand symbol you know well. 

He’s ordering you to lock the doors and pull the curtains as soon as you’re back on the bridge. You don’t take your gaze off of him as you nod, “Yes, Captain.”

You turn and hurry back up to the bridge slamming the door behind you and locking it with a quiet click. You see the Captain watching the bridge as you close the curtains.

There’s silence for a whole minute, and then the shouting starts. Then the alarm bells start ringing, alerting the ship of an attempted mutiny. 

Less than fifteen minutes later, there’s a bang on the door, “Navi,” the Captain calls, “We’re all clear, open up.” You stand from your seat and open the door, allowing the Captain back towards the helm.

He’s covered in blood.

“Everything alright, Cap?”

“Yeah. We’re calling it an attempted Mutiny.” He explains, “That or sea madness.” 

“You think that’ll work.”

He laughs, “No one wants to face the wrath of the sea, Navi. How are your medical skills?”

“Average.”

“Go tend to the Merman. We’ll be staying put until he’s healed enough to leave.”

“And…the Chancellor?”

The Captain looks you in the eye, “Merpeople aren’t real.”

You flash a wry grin, “Understood.”

You leave the bridge and head back to the deck. Surviving members of the crew are using buckets of salt water to wash the blood off the desk before it dries.

The merman is no longer thrashing around, instead, he looks deeply, deeply amused. 

“Alright there, Navi?” The First Mate asks as he uses a broom to push some bloody water back into the ocean.

“Yeah. Captain put me in charge of him, can you lower him to the deck?”

The First Mate laughs, “Probably a good idea. Alright, step back.” You take several large steps back as the First Mate and several of the men move to the winch to lower the net to the deck.

The net falls open and you carefully step over to the merman, “Hello. You can call me Navi, I’m going to take a look at your fin. Is that alright?”

He gazes at you evenly, and then leans his weight back on his hands, “Yeah, alright Navi.” He finally says.

You crouch next to his tail, “And what should I call you?”

“I’m Fives.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Fives.”

“Fraid to say that I don’t agree.”

“No, I would imagine you wouldn’t.” You carefully examine his fin, “It looks like the spear sliced your fin pretty good. I can wrap it, but I’m not sure that’ll help.”

Fives watches you for a moment, and then he smirks “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm? What do you me—” You yelp in surprise as his scales start to retreat, slowly getting replaced with flesh. And his tail separates into legs. Your jaw drops in shock, and then you yelp again as rough hands shove your bandana over your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” The First Mate demands, “You can’t go around exposing yourself to young ladies. Use this to cover yourself.” You hear the sound of cloth hitting something, and low laughter, though you’re too busy trying to pry the First Mate’s hands off your head to notice.

“I forgot.” Fives says, laughter in his voice. As you pull your bandana off your eyes, you see a wide grin on his face. “Anyway, Navi, this will this help?”

“Um. Yeah, a bit.” You glance at the injury, “It’s a pretty deep cut, but you shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Wait, wait. I have a question,” The First Mate says, “If Merpeople can make themselves look human, doesn’t that mean that Palpatine’s theory about Merperson blood is a crock of shit?”

Fives bursts into laughter, “Oh, yeah. It’s absolute bullshit.” He grins at the First Mate, “Don’t tell me you believed that?”

“Course not,” You interject, “But orders are orders,” You stand and offer him your hand, “Come on, let’s get you someplace where I can get that cleaned and wrapped.”

Fives takes your hand and allows you to help him to his feet, and then leans his weight on your shoulder, “You know. Maybe I’ll stick around for a bit. At least until I’m healed.” He muses.

“That right?”

“Sure. Not often that I get a pretty lady to dote on me.” He says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Nope,”

You lead him through the ship until you reach the small infirmary, and motion for him to hop up on the table, “I’m not even sure what the Captain’s going to do next.” You admit.

“Oh?”

“Palpatine isn’t going to give up on this, and yeah, he’s crazier than a bag of squirrels, but he still has a lot of power.”

“What would you do?”

“I’m not the Captain.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Fives points out.

You lean against a counter, “I wouldn’t go back to Naboo. But that’s our home, and this is a Nubian vessel.” 

“Well, your Captain did just order the outright slaughter of half the crew.”

“It wasn’t half, there were only 15 people on the ship who were loyal to Palpatine,” You correct him, “And it wasn’t a slaughter. You heard the bell, there was a mutiny.”

Fives snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, alright. Six one way, half a dozen the other.”

You make a face at him and then continue digging around for the medical kit. “Either way, the Captain has to decide what to do. Not me.”

“How’d he feel about me sticking around?”

“That you’d have to ask him.” You counter, “Why’d you wanna stay anyway?”

“I have a thing for pretty girls.” Fives replies with a bright grin.

Your face heats and you busy yourself with searching for the first aid kit, “I’ll talk to him, but he did just lose fifteen members of his crew.” You straighten and flash a small smile at him, “Don’t suppose you have any friends who need a job?”

Fives leans in so his face is close to yours, “As it happens, I do.”

You grin at him, “That right?”

“It is right.”

“What do you want in return?”

“A place on the ship. And your bandana.”

“My bandana?” You ask, amused.

“Have to wear my lady's colors, don’t I?” You laugh and avert your gaze, slightly flustered. But you do pull the bandana off your head and offer it to him. 

Fives immediately ties the pale blue bandana around his head and you smile at him. 

“Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll go talk to the Captain. After I patch up your leg.”

“It’s a deal then.” Fives replies, stretching out to let you have access to his leg.

“So it is.”

In the end, Fives invites seven of his brothers to join the crew of The Oracle: Rex, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase. And, after much discussion with the crew, The Oracle doesn’t return to Naboo, no longer able to handle how Palpatine treats the Nubian people.

So far as the Nubian people are concerned, The Oracle is lost at sea. However, the sailors of Naboo know the truth. The Oracle is still out there, on patrol, just waiting for Palpatine’s control to slip long enough to swoop in and steal another ship.

[dr-spectre]

I saw your most recent post and noticed you somewhat said (kind of idk I don’t know how else to phrase it) you were on team present! Do you have any specific reason or just joining for funsies

I've explained my reasoning for joining team present in the past but you know what? I'll explain it again for you.

When I think back to moments on when I'm truly happy, it's always when I'm in the present. When I'm just thinking about the here and now. Thinking about "what do I wanna do today?" When I think of the past, it often makes me feel sad because... those feelings are gone... the places I used to go all the time... are gone... and that... stings. It really REALLY STINGS!

When I think of the future, it makes me feel scared and worried. I think, "will I be successful? Will the choices that im doing now will send me down a bad path filled with regret? Will I find a girlfriend? Will I be able to start a family?" In the past where I got sucked up into the """productivity""" advice youtube pipeline, it made me feel fucking miserable and awful. That I wasn't some robot, that I wasn't disciplined, that I didn't "work hard" and that "if you don't work hard now you'll regret it in the future!! You could be great!"

But then I realised something... the future doesn't fucking exist yet. There is no predetermined path. This ain't no fucking RPG where you choose the good or bad ending.

Life is chaos. Life is pure mayhem. Even if you work hard, your life could still be god awful. So what if I wanna relax today? I aint gonna end up broke, dying on the street in the future. I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!! BEING IN THE PRESENT MEANS FREE WILL!!! ITS REAL!!! YOU CAN FEEL IT!! YOU CAN EXPERIENCE IT!!!

I now live life by one quote... one phrase...

I CAN DO WHAT I SO PLEASE! I HAVE CONTROL!

I dont pick teams based on which Idols are in them, I pick them based on my own beliefs as a human being. I hate getting into Idol wars because it's so fucking stupid. DO Y'ALL REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME WE GOT INTO AN IDOL WAR?!?

We got a whole fucking hero mode based on that idea. The idea that we should NOT do those sorts of things. That we should not fight. But come together instead. To celebrate what we have. To create more memories together. Because that will make us happy.

You paint the world and I will play my melodies...

I will not choose team past because Callie is in it.

I will not choose team future because Frye is in it.

I am choosing team present because that is what I truly believe in.

Plus. I'm a Splatoon 2 baby. Without that game, I would not be where am I today. I would not have the chance to voice my opinion to hundreds of people. To express myself and feel heard and seen for the first fucking time in my life.

I feel like I owe something back to that game and I will do so by picking team present, aka....

Off the Hook.

[kiyovazquez]

Memories - Macaque x Kiyo

Notes: I like to write although I may lack practice. English is not my first language so I used a translator, I'm sorry if the writing has spelling mistakes or pronouns are changed haha.

It was a warm night with a full moon, where its silvery glow filtered through the bright lights of the city. From atop the roof, the warm wind brought echoes of pop music and muffled laughter rising from the apartments.

On an old blanket of light blue and white, Macaque lay in a carefree posture, a half-drunk can of soda in his hand. Beside him, Kiyo gazed up at the night sky; her short dark hair contrasted with the pearly color of her scaly skin.

The young goddess turned her face to her six eared demon friend and gave a half-smile.

—I can't believe you went so many years without dating— she whispered in a jocular tone. — You've got to be kidding me.

Macaque gave him an amused look back, undeterred by the teasing.

—Maybe I exaggerate a little—  said Macaque with a half-smile, before taking a sip. — There was the occasional fling, but I was more focused on getting revenge on Wukong and making his life miserable than I was on my love life.

Kiyo listened to him intently, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

—But... —she encouraged him to continue.

Macaque let out a short laugh and sighed, as if recalling some memory of his past wanderings.

—I must admit I have a few stories to tell— he admitted mischievously. — Some antics from my youth that might interest you. But that's for another night...

Macaque laid his back on the old blanket, leaving the half-drunk can to one side. He clasped his hands behind his neck and closed his yellow eyes in a carefree attitude. He smiled sideways as he heard a soft moan come from the lips of Kiyo, who stood beside him.

—Come on, I know well your taste for bragging about your exploits— she prompted him mischievously. — I don't think a few past love stories will tarnish your reputation.

Macaque opened his healthy eye and looked at her from the corner of his eye, with a mischievous smile peeking between his lips.

—Are you jealous? — he asked mockingly. — Why so much interest in my love life?

Kiyo raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the joke. The moonlight reflected off her scales, giving her an unearthly glow.

—I'm simply intrigued to learn more about you— she replied calmly, lying down beside him on her side so she could see him. — Unless you fear not living up to your own legends.

Macaque let out a short laugh. He knew the goddess had succeeded in disarming his cunning trap. So, he took a deep breath and prepared to evoke his most secret memories to please his astute listener, who looked at him intrigued to learn more about his love interest.

—The truth is that I have only fallen in love twice— confessed Macaque in a low voice.

Kiyo arched an eyebrow in a mocking gesture, though her eyes revealed a hint of surprise. Over 500 years of existence and only having two affairs was hardly believable.

—I don't believe you— she replied mockingly.

—There is a difference between mere carnal pleasure and true love— he replied wisely.

—I must agree with you on that one— Kiyo admitted, easing his mockery. —May I know more details?

Macaque averted his gaze and his smirk faded. He reflected with a more serene and calm countenance.

—Mmmhhh... – he mumble between my lips, debating internally. — If I talk too much, it could ruin my reputation— he said in a thoughtful tone.

—Not even for me? — the girl asked. Her eyes, veiled in doubt, searched his. —I promise to keep silent.

Macaque analyzed her request. Talking about his first love with her, his only friend, didn't seem so far—fetched. However, he still wasn't sure he could trust her with his secret.

Kiyo noticed his hesitation. Her voice, suddenly softened, caressed his ears:

—We have all fallen in love with people who in the end have not been worth it, you should not be ashamed of that... —she murmur, trying to reassure his friend. — Forgive me, you shouldn't tell me if you don't feel comfortable talking about it.

Kiyo lay down next to him, contemplating the starry blanket above them. Only a few stars shone amidst the darkness of the city. Macaque pondered silently, wondering whether to finally unveil that memory buried for centuries. The warmth of his friend enveloped him, softening the old wounds of time.

In the background, a soft melody was playing from the young goddess's phone, with a metallic light blue tone. Macaque did not recognize the song, but its rapture filled his serene mood.

After a while of thoughtful silence, he spoke in a murmur:

—Wukong....

Kiyo looked up into his friend's yellow eyes expectantly. That revelation was coming after centuries of secrecy.

—I guess he was my first love.

The goddess could not hide her surprise. Was he in love with his now nemesis? The one who once tormented her out of past grievances. Kiyo ignored the details of the story between Wukong and Macaque, ignorant of a past not yet fully revealed, only that they were great friends, brothers in the order founded by the Monkey King where together with other demons not only guarded their home, but sought to rebel against the gods. Until, after the defeat and imprisonment of Wukong for five hundred years, some grudge broke their bond. And in their last encounter, Macaque lost not only an eye, but his life at the hands of what was once his best friend and brother. He later resurfaced, thanks to Lady Bone Demon's “favor”, but what happens next is a separate story.

—But you hate Wukong now… —muttered Kiyo, still trying to assimilate that unexpected revelation.

—You said you'd keep quiet— Macaque reminded him with just a hint of annoyance at the break in his story.

He exhaled a sigh and continued. Her yellow eyes were lost in the silvery moonlight, avoiding her friend's curious gaze.

—I was an insignificant, weak and lonely demon back then. Wukong was the first to see more than that in me. He saw my hidden potential, a potential I was not even aware of yet. And I fell prey to his vision, to his trust.... I fell in love with the one who for the first time made me feel valuable. The one who saw me as something more than a shadow....

Kiyo listened hurriedly, lying on her side so as not to lose detail of the story. She watched Macaque's face, which looked remote and sorrowful at the same time. His yellow eyes were lost in the moon or wandered to another distant point, avoiding her gaze, as if he regretted even today to stir with his words those feelings buried deep down for ages. His voice held echoes of sadness, resentment and spite not entirely healed by time. Kiyo understood then that the wounds of the heart are the slowest to heal.

Kiyo waited in silence, contemplating Macaque's lost gaze, still absorbed in old memories. Shee did not want to interrupt his train of thought.

At last, in a barely audible whisper, she dared to ask:

—Did you ever tell him?

Macaque denied with an ironic grimace.

—I kept my secret out of cowardice. I was afraid my love would ruin our friendship or be unrequited. But I think he knew— a sad smile curved his lips. — Wukong had that telltale look that betrayed he was deciphering my feelings even without words, but he preferred to feign ignorance to spare us the awkwardness.

Kiyo looked at him with a mixture of compassion and regret. She did not want his friend to relive old useless pains.

Macaque noticed his regret and spoke in a calmer tone:

—After Wukong's imprisonment, I tried to remake my life outside the Brotherhood. I had the occasional carnal encounter with demons and mortals, men and women alike, but they were only fleeting moments to forget. When I saw him with that monk, something snapped in me. Jealousy and spite choked my reason. It was my undoing.

He said this last with a wry smile. He admitted his bad temper, although the spite of the one who once made him feel special and now abandoned him to his fate, was deeper.

—Wukong made me discover what's behind this facade. And in the end, he left me alone again, just like before I met him. I guess this stupid heart still hurts even today.

A sigh escaped from his chest, laden with the melancholy of unfulfilled dreams. Kiyo understood that fear of risking everything for unrequited love. And he also understood that time had not completely healed the wound of the unconfessed youthful passion for his enemy of today, for the one who was once his most precious brother and his everything.

Kiyo understood Macaque's feelings perfectly. She herself had known Wukong's love not long ago, recalling his tender words, warm embraces and sweet caresses. Even though she knew now that it was wisest to maintain a friendship, deep down she longed for the peace lavished on her by his company and their courtship that she once saw as a dream achieved.

Gently she slid her hand up to meet Macaque's, entwining their fingers in a mute comforting gesture and asking if she could take the next step.

—Wukong had the ability to make himself indispensable to those he loved— she sighed, resting her empathetic gaze on him. — I know what it's like to be made to feel unique only to be abandoned. I'm sorry you carried that pain for so long.

Macaque was surprised by that physical contact unaccustomed to such displays. A small, barely perceptible blush appeared on his cheeks and he smiled a smile of gratitude, squeezing Kiyo's hand in silent gratitude. She truly understood his suffering, and with her gesture she was giving him the warmth he so desperately needed to finally heal the wounds of the past.

—Time heals everything. It no longer hurts; only a closed scar remains. Now I focus my energy on other, more profitable goals.

—What do you mean? —Kiyo asked curiously.

—Oh, you know. Annoying grumpy little gods who sleep like hibernating bears— he replied mockingly.

Kiyo feigned indignation, punching him gently in the chest which made Macaque laugh.

—How dare you talk about me like that! —she protested with laughter.

—Calm down, I never mentioned names. If you identify yourself, it's your problema— he replied with sly mischief, causing Kiyo to blush with embarrassment.

The two continued to laugh merrily, leaving sad memories of the past to which they belonged. Their hands remained clasped in a sign of the trust and comfort they now shared with each other, aware as they were of not being too physical with even their closest confidants.

When Kiyo's song ended and a new one began, Macaque still didn't recognize the melody, completely oblivious to the current pop culture, but he could hear part of the tune.

"And even though I think about you day and night

I'm not sure if this whole love thing

Sounds quite right"

—So... —whispered Kiyo, looking away from the song and focusing on the golden eyes of his partner.— You mentioned two loves.... who was the second one?

—Mmhh? —Macaque murmured, puzzled.

—You said you fell in love twice. You already told me about Wukong, who was the other person who stole your heart?

Macaque blushed slightly and let out an enigmatic chuckle that left Kiyo intrigued. Was he teasing her?

—You'll know in time— he replied, averting his gaze again to the stars.

Kiyo was about to complain when she noticed a subtle squeeze on her hand. She looked up at Macaque and was moved by what she saw. Though he was looking up at the sky, his face wore a smile different from his sarcastic grimaces: it was warm, serene, even tender. Her golden eyes shone like stars in a peaceful countenance as her face was bathed in moonlight, letting it reflect the warmth and peace she felt inside.

Several minutes passed before Kiyo understood the hidden meaning behind her gestures. A blush covered her cheeks as she realized the obvious.

Oh...

Silently, she entwined her fingers in his, returning the sentiment with the same tenderness. She was falling again.

[levemetal]

I have a million and one svsss AU ideas that idk if I'll ever write cause I have 0 confidence in my untested writing skills. Any of these appeal to you?? Go ahead, use 'em. Know any fanfics like that? Please please PLEASE leave them in the comments. Ideas to add? Anything? Please go ahead I have no friends that are as deep in the svsss brainrot as me to subject this to ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Continued under the cut due to excessive rambling

These will be Ghost King/Calamity!SJ cause he has been living rentfree in my brain ever since one braincell at one AM shouted about it so you have been warned.

- Dual Ghost Kings YQY and SJ, Post canon of PIDW. That's it that's the idea. Their extras hurt my cold dead heart way too much and as much as bbygirl SJ is a piece of shit, Yue Qingyuan deserves happiness, and for that he needs his Xiao-Jiu. Basically YQY does not stay dead when Bingge turns him into a pincushion à la White No Face to Xie Lian except with arrows. What happens from here? Idk didn't get that far but I imagine he steals back his (probably dead) Xiao-Jiu, maybe does some other batshit insane shit like we all know that deep down he's capable of, and the duo fucking COMMUNICATES for once in their life and they live happily ever after. Bonus points for hilarious deaths for Bingge.

- If you're a filthy multishipper like me, want a BingJiu version of the above QiJiu? Easy, SJ decides to haunt Bingge's ass for eternity and vice versa when Bingge kicks the bucket and so they spent the rest of eternity trying to make each other miserable in increasingly ridiculous and creative ways. Maybe along the centuries they find a common enemy or sort their shit out and proceed to make their awful existence everyone else's problem. A match made in hell, truly <3

Are you seeing a theme yet. I like a general comedic air to svsss AUs, it just belongs to the svsss experience ya know? Anyway carrying on-

Shen twins, and SQH twins cause why not. If you want Binghe twins too, actually probably funnier with Binghe twins, where one is our beloved maiden Bingmei and the other OG!PIDW Bingge but forced back in time with memories of the PIDW timeline. Transmigrator SQH aka Airplane gets the peak lord + Mobei-Jun plotline while OG!SQH is just chilling as an An Ding Peak Hallmaster or something. Meanwhile, the Shen twins have a funny game of imposter going on. As far as everyone is concerned, there is only one Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan transmigrated in earlier into the novel, but ended up going to CQM with Yue Qi while SJ got stuck in the Qiu household as in canon. From here the details can change but the main idea is that

A) Shen Yuan knows how to do his peak lord job actually

B) SJ is a calamity ghost, having died either in his disciple years or alternatively never made it out of the Qiu household alive

C) Both SY and SJ have been playing switcheroo when SY needs to head out and do stuff or just wants SJ to do his paperwork for him.

I still need a good reason for the switching and duping, but wouldn't it be funny if the disciples just had to deal with their peak lord behaving WILDLY different at times. Most of the time it's good ol' Shen Yuan smiling at disciples, way too enthusiastic for monsters and plants and keeps forgetting his fans everywhere. Then one random week in the month after he has a resting bitch face, scowls, snarls and bitches at anyone and has 0 patience for teenage attempts at music.

Most shrug it off as just terrible migraine weeks, but some disciples are suspicious, most of all Bingge who is CONVINCED something is WrongTM. Like, he KNOWS SQQ and this SQQ is just so different, something must be different. He doesn't know how right he is yet everyone just thinks he's actually insane.

I know this is probably increasingly insane and dumb, but fast forward to the Abyss opening. SJ was probably there to keep an eye on his clumsy twin, but SY ends up asking the ghost to look over the Luos, as the system still demands that they go to the abyss. So SJ after much grumbling agrees (after all he probably just was unmasked as ghost calamity, and the twins as demons, with a huge amount of cultivators moving their way. It's really the smaller hassle to jump into the Abyss and deal with the horrors there. Besides, the scholar in SJ would be curious about the abyss (and SY too let's be honest) ), kicks both in and goes "Alright we're taking an impromptu field trip" and jumps in after leaving SY to deal with the political mess that comes after.

Anyway, the last AU can be changed in various ways, like make it a PIDW time travel fix it with only the OGs around, or just Shen twins, etc. Feel free to shout at me how dumb this all is.