#get rid of them is something taught by his father

[ask-my-sheepkids]

Make sure to have an alibi if he asks bout though, bud-

Mochu, fiddling with their hand;

« It’s going to be an “accident” I don’t know when or why it happens, it just.. does.. I most likely won’t be here when it does, sorry for the lack of drama… »

They laugh a bit;

« Thé first time I used it it was on myself ! »

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

x

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[ateliersss]

Part 4 - He Shall Prevail

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: In your past life on earth, when someone would ask you how you managed your job as a nurse with the occasional death of a mother during birth, you told them that you never took it too personal because you would never find yourself in their position. Then why were you now so adamant on giving your life for your pup? Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,497 Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Masterlist

⇨ Hey, guys! I‘m back to writing. 6 months and 16 exams later, I finally found time to continue my now called “Blooming Family” series. You have no idea how much I missed it.

⇨ Though I have to say, this will probably be the end of this series. Probably. I got rid of every idea about our little family in those four parts and I don’t believe I can offer much more dramatic and exciting plot.

⇨ BUT! I already announced a Prequel on how Mi'ytiar and the Reader meet. I’m still working on it and the process is going smoothly for now. This means, this is definitely not the end of our story, so stay tuned!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

 

The metallic smell of human blood that usually made him wallow in delight, now made him feel sick. The feeling of human blood on his skin which usually sent a rush of excitement down his spine, now made him want to cut off any part of his body that made contact with it. The sight of him tearing a human apart — hurting it, killing it — that usually sated his predatory nature, now made him want to gouge his eyes out.

Blood flowed as he cut you, his beloved one, open under Cahrein’s watchful eyes. The red fluid coated first his claws and fingertips, then his fingers completely, and before he knew it his whole hand when he started to reach into you.

Your small, beautiful body, which he had worshipped more times than he could count, had long grown numb, unmoving, lifeless. Your big, gorgeous eyes that had held so much love for him were closed, sparing him to witness the moment should the spark within them extinguish.

He wouldn’t let that happen, he was sure of it. He just needed time to close the long, precise cut and get the blood that was stashed somewhere here on the ship. He knew how to stitch you together, God knows how many times he had to do it when you were on your hunting trips together, though it was never this kind of wound.

But Mi'ytiar, your oh so loving and attentive mate, had done something quite unusual for his species.

With no profound knowledge of births, let alone human births, he witnessed the act of giving life for the very first time when you had been pregnant with Akail. Even without any previous experience, he just knew that Yautja births were quite different from human ones. Their Females wouldn’t have suffered that much from pain during labor and because of that, his already devoting stance towards you seemed to reach new heights when you fought like a warrior on your very own battlefield. He was impressed just as he was scared.

So, when Cahrein had confirmed your suspicions on being pregnant again, Mi'ytiar did what every father on earth would and should do when a baby was on its way: he prepared himself. Mostly Cahrein showed and taught him the necessities who had studied the human anatomy when you arrived on Yautja Prime for the first time — leader's orders. And because there had never been a human in their clan or anywhere near it, he had to travel some time to the nearest one whose location he knew.

That’s how Cahrein learned and that’s how he was able to brief his clan leader.

You didn’t know, but if you did, you once again would not fathom how lucky you were, because how many Yautja out there with a human by their side for whatever purpose would put that much effort into them? Would any of them sit down and listen to their healer drone about the function of the ovaries? Would any of them waste their time, instead of just finding a replacement? Would they be here when the chance of saving you was like catching mist with bare hands?

Mi'ytiar did, a leader nonetheless.

And when he felt it wasn’t enough, he did his very own research on earth. Stalking through hospitals, invisible of course, thanks to the Cloak camouflaging his massive form and hiding him from the human eye, he was taking everything in. He observed the humans dressed in white and dark blue clothes scurry around before he decided to follow one around.

At nighttime, it was much easier when the staff thinned out. This way he had a better chance to explore the hospital and find his way to the infant ward, discovering it by chance. Fourteen see-through cribs were standing in two rows inside the ward. Fourteen tiny human babies were lying inside, sound asleep.

So that’s what they looked like.

For a moment he thought about being human himself. Not for his own appearance, but for the possibility of having a pup who looked more like you, his love. You were such a beautiful creature, but sadly your genes were practically drowned out by his.

At daytime, he was lucky to watch five women deliver their babies. Four of them did it the natural way while the fifth woman decided willing to do a c-section. Obviously unaware of what would happen in a few years, he gained very useful knowledge that day.

That’s how Mi'ytiar learned and that’s how he located the pup in your womb so fast and pulled it out.

He tried not to let himself get lost in the sight of the newborn, squirming and screeching. As much as he wanted to admire the little boy, another paragon created by you, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

He gingerly placed the flailing pup down on the cold glass surface of the table and against your body, snuggled between your motionless arm and your side. With the greatest care, he angled his son’s head to rest against your shoulder and moved your arm so it would keep him in place.

Mi'ytiar wasted no time in turning the Medicomp upside down and finding the needed surgical tools much faster that way. Thankfully he hadn’t discovered anything wrong once the pup was free, no suspicious rupture or tear that needed stitching. He was deaf to Cahrein’s words as he fixed the cut with wound clamps and started to mix a gel that was able to close a wound of any kind, size or depth.

When he was sure the gel was painstakingly spread on the already healing cut, he grabbed the syringe with the purple-ish fluid and inserted its needle in the crook of your unoccupied arm. There was a 50-50 chance that it would work on you. Sxánxik would close all internal damage and increase blood cell production in case of severe blood loss, though he didn’t know if it would work on human blood. But there was still a chance since your DNA had evolved through years of infusions of Yautja blood.

“You should get her blood.” Cahrein’s voice finally found its way into his consciousness.

“Can’t leave.” Mi'ytiar growled, his eyes focused on the shallow movement of your chest, scared it would stop the second they would stray from you.

“You need to. There is no guarantee sxánxik works.” Cahrein pressed, growing restless at his leader’s tunnel vision.

He knew he didn't know what was going through Mi'ytiar’s mind, and if he said he knew how he was feeling at that moment, he would be lying. It was obvious to anyone that ever laid eyes on the Life-mated pair that there was a unique and special bond between the two. Yautja were caring despite common belief, but even the most affectionate and compassionate of their species would never come close to the emotions your human heart held for your Yautja. Adding the influence you had on Mi'ytiar, it seemed to be fated.

Soulmates, Cahrein believed you had called the both of you when you told him about certain fairytales your mother had read to you when you were a child. Though you had said it in a joking way, telling him it was something hopeless romantics believed in, he could see it in your eyes that there was some kind of hope there.

“Sometimes two people are destined for each other.”

Your human nonsense would always make him scoff in amusement, until there was living and breathing proof of you being meant for his leader. Two proofs now, to be exact. When you were able to give Mi'ytiar his long-denied offspring where their Females had failed, Cahrein started to be less derogatory about superstitions on earth.

“Fine.” Mi'ytiar snarled, hitting the glass surface of the holo-map table on each side of your thighs with closed fists, only hearing a splintering sound as he pushed himself away.

When he returned, the overwhelming sight of your body made him freeze in the doorway when the automatic doors opened. He tried to not tighten his grip around the blood bag in his hand, tried not to let his claws pierce holes into it and spill the red liquid.

You were lying there, paler than you had been moments ago. Where he had positioned your arm so your pup was safely tucked at your side, the other one was lying along the length of your body. Just as your spread legs were dangling down the table, your hand was loosely hanging down where it had previously been grasping the edge in pain.

“Mi'ytiar.”

Cahrein’s voice was once again pulling him out of his own head before he could drown in dark thoughts.

“I prepare your home for your return.” The healer told him when Mi'ytiar covered your naked lower body with one of your blankets that you always kept on the ship.

When Cahrein received no response from his leader, who was too busy getting the blood into your veins before filling syringes with his own to inject it into you, he made the usual farewell gesture and his holo-image dissolved.

As soon as Mi'ytiar could assess you as stable, he took his newborn — he was so tiny, Mi'ytiar was able to hold him with one hand as he fit so easily in his entire palm — and placed him in the crook of his arm, the upper body of his son pressed against his bicep. The typical instinct of a Yautja pup to hold on made his son immediately cling to him.

With a heavy heart at leaving you alone once again, he went through the ship to take the pup to its sleeping place in the sleeping quarters. Digging out more of the cushions and covers you had stashed away, he created a makeshift crib so his son wouldn’t move in a fatal position or roll out of the pod by accident. When he was sure he could leave him alone for a moment, he put the pup down and returned to you.

You were still in the same unconscious state he had left you. With a pained, sorrowful purr he lifted you up and into his arms, the almost empty blood bag held up by his hand. The sight of you like this was hurting him more than any wound he ever got from an enemy.

Back in the sleeping quarters, Mi'ytiar put you down in the pod where the two of you would usually rest. And where the little one was probably conceived, he thought with his eyes looking over at the pup.

Since the ship was not equipped with the necessary medical supplies and equipment, he had to make do with what was available to him. All he could do now was let you sleep and heal. Should the sxánxik not do its job, his blood would do.

To distract himself — because looking down at the device around his left arm, the journey back home would take another hour — he picked his newborn pup up and started to rock him softly. He remembered your reaction when you had seen him do it for the first time with Akail, scolding him for hurling the pup around. Your words.

Trying to not let his amusement show too much on his face, he had explained to you that Yautja babies, even when they were mere minutes old, were quite sturdy. They could endure more than you would think and you had learned that in the following five years. To put it simple, Akail had been a menace when he wasn’t a complete mama’s boy. He had wanted to explore; first your home, then the clan grounds, and then the whole planet.

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle-like rumble at the memory of an eager Akail running around, dodging his mother’s arms that tried to keep him inside your home and from running around in the village. He had watched you both with mirth in his eyes, but regretted it the second a grumbling laugh left his mouth. If it had been possible, he would have dropped dead when you glared at him with a very nasty look. Wincing inwardly, he pulled his figurative tail between his legs and came to your aid, grabbing Akail by the nape and lifting him up. Then you had looked at your son with a I’m-very-disappointed-in-you expression on your face and this time it was the pup that winced (Mi'ytiar almost too, if he was being honest).

Like father, like son.

This one will be just as in love with his mother as his father and older brother were, he was sure of it.

Warm, soft and bright.

Those were the things you noticed first even with your eyes closed.

The next thing your brain registered was that you could move every part of your body, although a little sluggish, when you wiggled your toes, and clenched and unclenched your hands. You were relieved that whatever happened to you hadn’t paralyzed you.

Blinking, you opened your eyes and with a blurry vision, the very first thing you saw was a familiar, but somehow unfamiliar metal pole that looked like an IV stand.

But that couldn’t be. You should be the only human thing on Yautja Prime, so why…

“You awake.”

You slowly turned your head in the direction of the voice. You could only make out a dark, tall figure standing in the doorway, though not tall enough to be your mate.

“Cahrein?” You murmured.

“Mhm.”

Said Yaujta entered the room to inspect the stand, tapping the bag with a clear substance inside. He traced the tube attached to it with a sharp claw to the point where it was connected to the needle in your arm. 

“Fascinating I must say.”

“What is this? Why is it here?” You asked and tried to get up, hoping the fatigue would wear off faster in an upright position.

With a deep rumble and a clicking of his mandibles, Cahrein gently pushed you back down. “The great Mi’ytiar always made sure you had everything you need should medical emergency arise.”

“He did?”

Cahrein nodded with his head. “He traveled to ooman world to get whatever you need every time oomans developed their creations.”

You looked at the healer who now inspected the red bag filled with your blood.

When you started to be more involved in the life of the Yautja, the possibility of getting hurt grew. It wasn’t likely as your mate never let you do anything that could cause even a bruise. Well except, of course, mating with him. 

When your already drawn blood expired, you would go to Cahrein so he could take new one for emergencies while you sat in Mi'ytiar’s lap, his purring and his hands caressing you calming you down. Despite being a former nurse you hated needles.

“How...” You coughed, your voice hoarse from not being used. “How long was I… asleep?”

“Six days.”

“That long?” You whispered to yourself in disbelief.

You settled back into the soft cushions of your nest, watching the healer adjust the blood bag as if there was the perfect angle for it to hang. Ever the perfectionist. 

You carefully lifted the arm with the needle inside while you grabbed a black woolen blanket to pull it over your body, somehow feeling cold despite the fire burning. 

Doing so, you dragged your heavy-feeling arm over your stomach.

Your flat stomach.

You jumped up from your lying position, ignoring the stabbing headache. 

Cahrein turned around, only needing to take one big step to be by your side, and was ready to scold you for going against your doctor’s orders, but his words were dying on his tongue when you ripped the piece of clothing you were wearing open. Immediately he averted his eyes and turned his back to you. 

You may be his patient right now, but he had no death wish. Sure, he had seen parts of you in his role as the healer, but only with permission and in attendance of your mate. And said mate definitely didn’t need to be in the room to witness his human being exposed in front of someone who wasn’t him to install that deep-rooting respect (and maybe even slight fear) in Cahrein. 

You were oblivious to the internal battle of Cahrein who was fighting against the urge to make sure you weren’t overexerting yourself and the fact that he couldn’t do so without having to look at you. Instead, you were frantically tracing the faint scar across your stomach with shaky hands.

Baby…

Where was your baby?

Where was it?!

The maternal instincts were almost animalistic as they made you heave, your lungs starting to struggle to take in air.

It had been here, inside your belly, carried under your heart…

Why wasn’t it here?

It should be… it should be…

Cahrein was really tempted to turn around when he listened to your breath getting more and more irritated and uneven. When he heard suspicious rustling, he spun around and grabbed the nearest cover to put it on you — the blanket you had wanted to snuggle into. 

“Calm, (Y/N), calm.” He purred as he pushed you back onto the nest when you tried to crawl out of it. 

“My pup, my pup. Where is my pup?” You squeaked.

You were digging your nails into his skin, scratching it without leaving much damage. You weren't really a challenge to him. You were still weak from the blood loss and the week of bed rest. Had it been a female Yautja, Cahrein would have probably been dead by now. They were just as territorial and protective of their pups as you were right now.

“He is fine. He is with his father.” He soothed you and tried to push you onto your back and into the nest. "I will call for him."

Still shaking, you ceased your resistance a little, allowing Cahrein to let go of you. Despite everything screaming inside of you to fight your way to your pup, your body in its state wouldn't even make it out of the room. So you settled down but kept your nerves on edge.

You were taking deep breaths in and out as you strained every muscle to prop yourself up into a sitting position, your legs tangled and angled to the side.

Tugging on the soft fabric of the blanket draped over you, you looked around the room. It was just like you remembered — all four walls made of smooth obsidian-like stone, the large window from the floor up to the ceiling behind your nest giving you the perfect view of the jungle-like valley beneath you by the cliff where the village was located on, the build-in shelves that mostly displayed your mate's most valued trophies, but also some of your possessions from your old home on earth like your books and your favorite pot plant, the futuristic wardrobe Mi'ytiar had made for you when he kept gifting you fabrics, feathers, fur, leather and such so you could make yourself clothes with the help of the Females.

It was home.

As your eyes swept over the room from left to right, they stopped when they spotted the small, wooden crib next to the nest. It had been Akail‘s when he was a newborn pup. It was lovingly and thoughtfully crafted by Mi’ytiar, while you had carved accents, patterns, and little figures into it.

Sure, Yautja Females had their own, traditional way of taking care of their pups, but you were human and your baby was partly human, so you wanted at least a little human influence in raising it. It‘s the only way you knew and were able to do it. Mi’tyiar let you take the reins since he had no prior knowledge himself. He was a first-time father and would just follow your instructions when you needed assistance. 

That led to you unknowingly breaking a custom. Usually, at this age, the Female was raising the pup alone. The Male was barely involved during that time and would only take over when it was time for the pup to train as a Youngblood. 

Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, the ever-loving father, was there by your side for every of Akail’s wobbly steps, incoherent mumble and mandible click. If he was human, you fondly mused, he would be that kind of a parent who would take photos and videos of even the most random event and unnecessary thing their baby did.

He was such a fierce and strong leader, callous and ruthless when the situation required it, a brutish savage if he was challenged, but when it came to his little family he was so soft and gentle like any human father or husband.

While you were spacing out, resisting the urge to reach over to the crib and check if the bedding was still warm, signs of a little life sleeping in it, you didn’t notice the newcomers in your room.

“Yawne...” A voice sounded far away before you started blinking, refocusing yourself.

Your eyes snapped to the now much larger form standing in the entrance of the room holding a small, wiggling bundle in his arms, cradling it to his chest. His yellow eyes were solely on you, looking at you in disbelief as if he thought they were deceiving him. 

Mi'ytiar pushed the bundle in his arms into those of Cahrein, who you barely registered walking in behind your mate, and made his way over to you in a few quick strides. Your eyes were fixed onto the thing your whole being was screaming for the most, but when Mi'ytiar cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, your whole attention was on him — your mate, the love of your life, your sun and your moon.

“Tahní.” You breathed and put your hands on his, craving his warm skin closer to you.

He moved forward and gently put his forehead to yours, purring loudly into the otherwise silent room. 

“I thought I lose you. I thought you die. Again.” He grumbled, his eyes closed.

You lifted your head and placed a few kisses on the skin of his forehead. 

“I‘m a fighter. I thought you knew that by now.” You chuckled, your voice hoarse.

Mi'ytiar grumbled again, not appreciating you making jokes when you had been on the brink of life and death.

“What happened?” You asked and pulled away to finally look at him. 

Mi'ytiar — and you really had no nicer word to describe it — looked horrible. If Yautja were able to develop bags under their eyes, he definitely would have some. He looked beyond tired. There was a devastated, but also relieved look in his eyes, you had no problem deciphering the reason behind it. 

“I only remember how my water broke… how you carried me back to the ship… and the call with Cahrein.” You mumbled as you tried to recall any memory you had stored in the back of your mind.

It was all blurry and tangled and you had no idea what happened when. The only thing you remembered with conviction was the pain. When the contractions started in that forest, it was far more manageable than the pain at Akail‘s birth. But when the labor was taking longer than it was normal, it got almost unbearable.

“What happened? How did he…” You trailed off as you glanced past Mi'ytiar and to Cahrein who was rocking the whiny bundle in his arm to calm it down.

“Mi'ytiar, please.” You begged as you looked back at him, pleading with your eyes. “Please give him to me. I need to… I need to…”

The distress your body was emitting almost made him shrink away. 

“Cahrein.” Mi'ytiar grunted and reached out.

Cahrein, who was struggling a little with the fussing pup in his care, careful not to accidentally drop it, made his way over to his leader. He would be lying if said he didn’t feel at least some relief when the restless pup left his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was sending you further down a spiral of frantic worry about your baby. He had seen enough Females going rogue for lesser reasons and experience showed to never stand between a mother and their pup. It was the last mistake you would make.

Mi'ytiar purred softly at the bundle before he turned back to you and offered it for you to take it. You eagerly engulfed it in your arms and the second you had a hold on it, the fussing pup settled down.

“Leave.” Mi'ytiar ordered gruffly when you started to push down the only cover your body had, not taking his eyes off his son and his mate.

Cahrein bowed his head and quickly took his leave. He would talk about anything medical and the further necessary bed rest another time.

You didn’t notice him leaving, too busy freeing your newborn son of the baby blanket that was practically drowning him.

You had knitted it when you were six months pregnant with Akail. He had been obsessed with it as long as he was a tiny pup.

Back when you were a nurse, some mothers had excitedly told you about all the preparations they had done before the baby was due. One of them had brought wool, knitting needles, and a half-finished blanket to her appointments. She had explained to you how she learned knitting only for her baby, so she could make all this stuff for it.

It was a sweet memory.

Mi'ytiar, of course, went on a trip back to earth and got you anything and everything you wanted and needed, even more than you originally needed in hopes his offerings would please you. And you hadn’t even needed to use much persuasion. Looking up at him with those big eyes of yours while rubbing the prominent baby bump was enough to prepare a ship and fly to your home planet the next day.

Sweet, sweet memories.

You were humming as Mi'ytiar crawled on the nest behind you, setting the blanket you had shrugged off to the side, and pulled you on his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and watched over your shoulder as you cradled your pup against your bare chest. You sighed in contentment when you could feel your son’s skin against your own, like it’s the final thing you needed to reassure you that you were actually here, that he was real.

Without the baby blanket covering him, you finally got a good look at your son. And god, you didn’t know you could fall in love a third time in your life.

He was perfect.

Unlike his big brother, he was the carbon copy of his father. While Akail did look like his father, having the same color scheme as him, the patterns were of opposite colors. His younger brother, on the other hand, didn’t only have the same color pallet as his father, but the patterns of his skin were colored just the same as Mi'ytiar‘s. Otherwise, he didn’t look much different from Akail when he had been a newborn — the same numbs on his head where his dreads would grow, the same thin and undeveloped mandibles around his mouth, the same arms and legs.

He was about the size of a human baby. It was incredible to think how big in size and height he would grow in the coming years.

You inspected every aspect of his tiny body, your fingers gliding over his torso and limbs, admiring every centimeter of him.

“You were right.” Mi'ytiar suddenly said. “He was in abnormal position. He was stuck.”

You stilled for a moment before you continued to coo at your baby.

“You begged me to get him out and I did. I cut in you and you…” He trailed off and grunted at his wavering voice. “You stopped moving when I pulled pup out. You were gone.”

“No.” You interrupted him and turned your upper body to look at him. “If I was gone, I wouldn’t be here with you. With him.” You moved your arms with your turned torso, so his son was back in his sight. “I wouldn’t be here to tell you how happy I am, to tell you how glad I am that you handled it so well. You saved his life. And mine too.”

You shifted your pup into one arm to reach up and place your hand on his cheek. You didn’t even need to pull him in for him to move closer and put his forehead once again against yours, closing your eyes. Since his anatomy made it impossible to actually kiss him, you decided that forehead-against-forehead was an acceptable compensation. Although it wasn’t anything special, it felt so intimate with him that you didn’t really miss the ability to kiss your partner.

“I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere, Mi'ytiar.” You told him softly, rubbing your skin against his like a cat. “Thanks to you I’m able to continue to breathe, to walk and talk. Thanks to you I’m able to continue to love you and live my life with you, my strong and handsome mate, and our pups.”

You had so many other things to say to him, but you started to choke on your words. Tears were dripping down your cheeks.

You opened your eyes when you felt something rough rub the skin under them and saw him wiping away the tears with his thumb. His other hand came up and its thumb did the same with the tears coming from your other eye. Mi'ytiar looked fondly down at you, his head cocked to the side.

“Thank you so much.” You mumbled, your voice a little shaky, and buried your face into his chest.

Mi'ytiar clicked his mandibles softly and carefully pulled you closer, making sure to not crush the pup between your bodies.

“Anything for you.” He purred.

He felt the wetness dripping from your eyes to your cheeks and down on his chest ease after a while. And when you lifted your head to look up at him, you gave him one of those dazzling, soft smiles he loved so much.

Mi'ytiar wanted to reach out again, wanted to pull you closer and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck to smell your sweet, familiar scent he missed so much. But sadly a certain someone demanded your attention more loudly.

The pup in your arms started to fuss again, causing you to use both arms again to hold him tight against you. Shushing him, you nestled him in the crook of your neck and stroked his back.

Mi'ytiar let out a displeased grunt before he could stop himself, glaring at his son being in a place where he wanted to be just a moment ago.

You, of course, didn’t miss your mate fixing the pup with a dismayed look and you immediately knew why. This wasn’t your first baby after all.

“Mi'ytiar, don’t tell me you’re jealous again.” You grinned up at him, not even trying to hide your amusement.

“‘M not.” He grunted.

“You are.”

“Not.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, unconvinced, raising an eyebrow. “Just as you were not jealous when Akail was occupying my boobs as a pillow for a year? Or when I tried breastfeeding with him? Or when he challenged you every time you came near me even though he just had learned to walk? Or when he-”

To silence you, he bit down into your throat and you immediately went slack. It was a somewhat trained reaction every time he would do that. Where a human would shut you up with a kiss, your mate bit you. A show of dominance, without a question, and you would lie if you said it didn’t turn you on. The moan that would have proofed it had almost slipped from your lips.

“Not jealous.” Mi'ytiar insisted gruffly and licked over the bite mark.

“Fine, fine.” You mumbled, still a little dazed from his little display of power.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional chittering and cooing of your son, who was looking up at his parents with his big, pale yellow eyes. They would grow more intense in color in no time.

“Did you already name him?” You asked and giggled when your pup tried to snatch up your finger with which you were drawing patterns in the air, moving it around in front of his face.

You watched as your pup finally caught your pointer finger and inserted it into his mouth. You laughed when you felt his gums chew on it. His teeth would develop only in a few weeks.

“The name you chose.” Mi'ytiar grunted softly.

You hummed in understanding and snuggled your face into the side of your son‘s head.

“Hi, Toyah.”

Tag List

⇨ Hey guys, despite having only some requests to be tagged in this part, I wanted to tag any and everyone who ever left a comment on one or more parts of this series. I'm seriously so thankful, you have no idea. Thank you so much for showing interest and voicing it. Thank you so much for your kind words that kept me motivated to continue this story. But, as I said at the beginning, this is not the end of Mi'ytiar, so lets hope we see each other on more of my works in the future!

@lil-lilacwitch, @zaky-ller, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan, @haleypearce @montybooks,

@ailujsenutna, @rorrika, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @mahirublue, @00justanolive00,

@mortuaconjuga, @victor-rose, @screechingenemy18, @thewitchesofart, @skibbiescoober,

@pyreemo, @han-sirentell, @dd122004dd, @milkzze, @wildaces,

@serendipitous-fernweh, @misspendragonsworld, @bunnymysteriously, @ladygrimmx, @thelrina,

@quaritcxswifewh0re, @imaginarydreams, @vintage-bumblebee, @blaxkmagix, @beelievit,

@blmcd57110, @mythirdlife235, @the-artistic-devotee, @jojooasis, @pipocfamily,

@bimboreader, @noname2246, @sawendel, @being-worthy, @xcol2sblog,

@panpandeep00, @maxismp1, @bastet222, @candyladycry, @crowleysthings

[golddust-if]

you're a wanted person. that isn't new to you, but after years of working, someone. no. something is after you.

you were taught by the best, your mother, she was an amazing woman but she was too trusting and in the end, that was her downfall. you won't make that mistake. you're a killer, but a righteous one. you kill those who deserve it, the disposable.

with your abnormal abilities, of which only twenty-five percent of the population is gifted with. you can succeed in what she was never able to do, rid the world of sinners.

you work for the slaughterhouse, a bar... with a dark side; in a rowdy part of the city. your mother was the owner but she didn't pass it down to you, she passed it your younger twin siblings. she believed you were far too talented to sit behind a desk, dealing with paperwork.

you've traveled all over the world, exterminating. you've claimed plenty of people, but perhaps this time you went after the wrong one. having no other choice you flee back home, but you aren't safe there either, you never are.

play with a customizable mc [gender (male or female), physical appearance, personality, sexuality]

protect those you care about or turn your back on them when they need you.

romance, befriend, or make enemies between any of the sixteen characters. four gender selectable, six male, and six female.

decide what supernatural ability you were gifted with; telepathy, telekinesis, or teleportation [figure out how to develop it and what other ability you have]

define your mc's signature weapon, fighting style and overall skillset; how you feel about killing, and the supernatural abilities you were gifted with.

this story is rated 18+ for sexual themes, substance (drug and alcohol) use, explicit language, and violence. [more themes might be added later]

the tattoo artist [male or female] [ro] wren price – partner in crime. they've been by your side since you can remember. always with a bright smile and cheeky remarks, you can't think about how your life would look without them. though they act differently with others, more serious, with a glint in their eyes you can't quite figure out. they never look at you like that.

the bodyguard [male] [ro] theodore price – the older brother of your best friend. there's no doubt in your mind that they're related. he's protective over you, although you can't hold that against him as that's what he does for a living. protect people. he's hard to get to know on a deeper level and you can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind.

the detective [female] [ro] rori hayes – now, if you weren't yourself, perhaps you could have been friends with her. but unfortunately for you... she's extremely suspicious of you and set to bring you to justice. she's recently been promoted and she cannot afford to fail, not when her family is counting on her.

the chief deputy sheriff [male] [ro] charles butler – good ole charlie, you're acquainted with each other. he can't say he isn't a little impressed with you. but you're endangering the citizens of his city and that includes his little girl. he may not have any evidence on you but you need to be brought down, and he's going to be the one that books you.

the model [male] [ro] julien ripley – son of the sheriff. he always looks uncomfortable with his own father. he’s never talked to you before and you’re almost positive he has no opinion on you. he’s a very well known face, although you can tell he doesn’t like being stared at and overall talking to anyone. *male mcs only

the journalist [female] [ro] sloane campbell – she's fast alright and always seems to know your moves. too bad she isn't on your side. always trying to announce to the world, where you are and what you're planning to do next. good thing she's overlooked at her job, consistently being handed stories that, even you know, aren't going anywhere.

the bartender [male or female] [ro] hale/hart vaughn – a family friend, and your sister's best friend. with their tantalizing words, they don't know the meaning of being serious. they are quite insufferable and you can't seem to be able to get rid of them. you have a feeling if you did, your own sister would come after you.

the florist [female] [ro] paris graham– at first glance she doesn't appear to be anything special, but that would be wrong. she's a firework waiting to explode and you want to be there when it happens. her work doesn't suit her but you have a feeling, that being a florist isn't all that she does. *female mcs only

the apartment owner [male] [ro] nolan adams – he knows about you and what you do, but he doesn’t give off the feeling of someone who’d go running to tell. you’ve always come back to lay low at his apartment complex when you need to and as long as you pay on time he doesn’t care what you do. 

the actor [female] [ro] ophelia wylie – a face from your past, one you can’t say you particularly enjoy facing again. she seems remorseful for what she did to you, in fact she looks like a completely different person and she’s offering to help you, but for what in exchange… after all, no one gives anything for free.

the crime lord [male] [ro] louis foster – of course you’ve heard of lou, you’d be an idiot if you didn’t. he's tried and failed to recruit you and he never fails. you’ve been warned before, it would be a mistake to make an enemy out of a king.

the informant [male] [ro] vincent sutton – it’s rare to ever see him out, only ever seen accompanying lou. if you had the ability to feel fear, you’d fear him. he shows every sign of being against you, but then again, it seems as if he does that to everyone around him as well. 

the chef [male or female] [ro] mateo/melanie olsen – you see them quite often, as their restaurant is one of your favorites. they always serve you with a smile and if they do know you, they play oblivious. they're just happy to have a customer who enjoys their food.

the doctor [female] [ro] eileen yates – serene and calming, a voice who always knows exactly what to say. she may look innocent but she’s far from it, you’ve known her for years yet you don’t truly know her, for all you know eileen may not even be her name. 

the accountant [female] [ro] felix price – the youngest of the price siblings, she helps out with all the money coming into and out of the slaughterhouse. she’s always been compassionate and reasonable. you can't imagine her hurting a fly.

the rival bar owner [male or female] [ro] kinslee dean – they own a bar just a couple streets down from yours. it’s always been a problem and they’re actively trying to shut down the slaughterhouse. but they’re surprisingly level-headed and want to 'handle' this problem with logic.

the owner of the slaughterhouse [male] archer – your younger brother, he’s honestly kind of a mess. he was not ready for this responsibility but he’s trying. the mischievous boy you grew up with, you don’t know where he is anymore.

the owner of the slaughterhouse [female] iris – your younger sister, she’s always been loud and bold. but she’s changed too, she’s calm and collected. she’s trying her best to help her brother along too.

the sheriff [male] lazlo ripley – a pompous man with nothing else to do but terrorize those he thinks are inferior to him. 

DEMO [Coming Soon]

warning: this story is still under development, all elements are subject to change!!

[shalomniscient]

sara has been poisoned.

you know this because she has been sick longer than any fever lasts for, but more so because you’ve spent nearly the entire past decade of your life studying poisons in sumeru. the anatomy of a poisoning is an old friend of yours; the poison, the poisoned organism, the injury to the cells, and the symptoms and signs—which is usually succeeded by death, although you are not so unskilled to undo the effects of a simple almond-based poison. no, the poison itself is not your concern, hastily and poorly concocted as it is.

no, your concern is the bastard who would dare do such a thing to your wife.

sara shivers as you pat a damp cloth to her forehead. her face is flushed with fever, sweat beading on her neck. her fingers grip and relax the bedding of her futon, eyes squeezed shut as the poison rips through her. you’ve already administered the antidote, but the aftereffects are still something sara must weather alone. it makes your heart ache. you are used to seeing your wife as a pillar of strength, so to see her reduced to quivering frailness brings out a grief in your heart you only experienced once, as your mother lay dying. you lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, squeezing her hand. sara groans, but some of the tension in her expression melts at the gesture.

just then, the door slides open with a soft sound. by the cadence of the footsteps—even, controlled, but with the weight of the house’s master—you know it is your brother, ayato. you do not look at him when you speak, your voice deceptively soft.

“have you discovered the culprit, brother?”

ayato hums behind you. “i have. one kujou kurose, a minor officer from one of the kujou branch families.”

“a fellow member of the kujou?”

“yes. though, he has made his disapproval of takayuki’s adoption of sara clear from the beginning. now that takayuki is out of the picture, i suspect he felt bold enough to make his move and get rid of her as well.”

you snort derisively as you brush some damp hair out of sara’s face. “he would commit treason out of jealousy?”

“the human heart is fickle,” ayato says evenly. “so, what is it you plan to do, sister?”

you tuck the sheets a little tighter around sara, then rise to your feet. you turn, and offer ayato a carefully measured smile—the smile your father taught both you and ayato to wear; the one that brings with it unrest. ayato recognises it innately, and a spark of amusement lights up his usually placid eyes.

“why, invite them to tea, of course.”

-

kujou kurose is a poor actor.

you learn this as you sit across from him at tea, listening to him ramble and rave about just how terrible it is for general kujou to have fallen ill. your hands squeeze your teacup tight enough that the glass might have cracked in your grip. instead, you grit your teeth and patiently endure his incessant blabbering, before insisting he have some tea.

“sakura blend,” you elaborate. “the petals came from the sacred sakura. it is intended to promote good health.”

kujou kurose idly strokes his beard and chuckles. “is that so? then let us drink to general kujou’s continued good health. please, pour some for me.”

you smile—polite as ever—and lean forward to lift the teapot. the collar of your kimono shifts with the action, and you can feel kurose’s eyes linger on the brief flash of your exposed collarbones. a stab of annoyance flickers through you, but you tamp it down. you pour his tea, then return to your seated position. kurose, to his credit, is not so barbaric to forget the etiquette of tea. he sips his tea from his cup slowly, expression smoothing out as the warm, sweet liquid tips down his throat. your smile does not leave your face. when he sets his cup back down, his expression is utterly calm, relaxed.

fool.

your own tea is untouched. you watch him carefully as you speak. “is the tea to your liking, my lord?”

kurose gives you a look. opens his mouth and tries to speak.

he fails.

you cannot stop the sheer delight on your face as you watch the man realise he cannot move at all. his eyes, once arrogant and deceptive, are now filled solely with fear. rage flickers across his expression briefly, but the fear resurges without mercy as he experiences what it is like to have no control over your body. as he remains stone-still in paralyzed fear, you raise your own cup to your lips and take a sip. the tea is warm and sweet—but to your seasoned palette of poisons, the subtle bitter hints of paralytic are obvious.

not that it bothers you. you’ve been ingesting your own poisons (in controlled doses, of course) since your first year at the akademiya to get a leg up on your coursemates in describing and documenting the effects of assorted poisons. suffice to say, you’ve developed a reasonable amount of tolerance to poisons, especially the ones you crafted yourself.

others, like kurose? not so much.

when you set your teacup down, there is nothing in his expression but despair. that dark, vindictive part of you howls with glee at the sight, and you give him your first true smile of the afternoon. when you speak, your voice is low, like a serpent slithering through tall grass.

“did you think i would not know, kurose?” you use his first name casually, as befitting your status both as a kamisato, and the general’s wife. “the walls have ears, kurose, and you have been so very loud.”

his throat bobs. you had given him just enough of a dosage to paralyze most of his muscles, but not enough to freeze the ones in his lungs or heart. at least, not yet.

“i know you poisoned my wife,” you continue, your tone hardly betraying anything. the conversation flows as if you were merely speaking of ther weather. “and i know it is because you are too much of a bitch to face her in honorable combat.”

if kurose could move, he would have flinched. but he can’t, so the best he can manage is a frenzied look of pure panic in his eyes.

“so you resorted to these… pathetic, underhanded methods you know sara would never dream of partaking in. and you thought, like this, you might win. and even if she didn’t die, you could not be implicated because of a lack of evidence, and that sara’s own respect for the law would let you walk free. but i’m afraid your cowardice is only matched by your stupidity,” you spit, unable to contain your vitriol any longer. “because if you think i subscribe to such restrictions, you are sorely mistaken.”

you have been away from inazuma for years, studying in the land of wisdom. and many have forgotten just who you are, but you are a kamisato. they call your sister a heron, sweet and beautiful. they call your brother a fox, cunning and charming. but you? you are nothing so warm-blooded. you are a snake in the grass, coiled in on yourself, fangs filled with venom. and archons help whoever is foolish enough to tread too close to your nest.

“make an attempt on my wife’s life again, kurose, and i will watch the light leave your eyes myself.”

and with that, you stand, forgoing a bow, and leave the trembling man in your living room with a swish of your silk kimono.

-

sara blinks as she looks down at one of her documents. she’s since recovered from her illness, and has resumed her duties as general. currently, she’s going over her backlog of paperwork that accumulated while she was unwell. and one of them is particularly odd—kujou kurose’s resignation letter.

“strange,” she mutters, and you look up from your embroidery to glance at her. you tilt your head in question.

“what is, dearest?”

“uncle kurose resigned,” she says, scanning over the document again. “he said he feels ‘too old’ to keep attending to his role within the clan. he’ll be… taking an extended trip to liyue to recuperate, apparently.”

you only hum at that. “mm, it is not too surprising. he is quite old, no?”

“well…” sara sighs. “he is old, yes, but he is also… tenacious. i didn’t think he’d resign unless he died. so it’s just weird, i suppose.”

you set your embroidery down with a smile, rising to your feet to pad softly over to her side. your brush her bangs away from her forehead and press a soft kiss to her temple. sara makes a tiny, surprised noise, a delicate flush settling on her cheeks as your hand rises to cup her jaw.

“you’re so caring, my dear,” you chuckle. “i’m sure he’s quite fine. it isn’t like he was threatened or anything—he’s still a kujou, after all. who would dare?”

sara sighs again, and leans into your touch. “you’re right.”

“i always am,” you quip, and sara rolls her eyes affectionately. she turns her head and presses a quick kiss to your palm.

“i love you,” she whispers, and your eyes soften. you lower your head to catch her lips in a soft kiss. she tastes like peppermint tea and sugar, the blend you made specifically for her. you breathe your reply against her lips.

“i love you too, my dear.”

[tcustodisart]

Connecticut Tav | Wood Half-Elf | Beast Master Ranger

So, this is my sheet for @bareee's @tav-dex. Went a little overboard and made a whole ass character sheet (man the last time I made one of those was so long ago). I want to write something about my cringe boy so. Buckle up because it's going to be long and poorly written (I suck at writing).

One edit because I'm a dummy, his alignment is neutral good not true neutral idk why I did that.

He was born and raised in his mom's and step-dad's tavern called Crow's Perch (not as fancy as Elf Song but in a different category as Blushing Mermaid)(the tavern thing is just for the sake of a joke that the most popular drink they serve is called 'Connecticut Water'). He has an older brother, who's a bard. Despite the description for Urchin background ("After surviving a poor and bleak childhood") he had a happy childhood, filled with love and support. The two brothers treated the whole Lower City as their playground: breaking into places just for fun, pick pocketing nobles, climbing Wyrm's Rock Fortress etc.

His love for beasts and creatures of any kind comes from the stories told by his step-dad (both him and Tav's mom are retired adventurers). Step dad was the one who told Tav about Darkmaw the Wicked *wink wink*.

At one point he got tired of the city life and decided he wanted to become a ranger. After successfully fulfilling some contracts he became so confident of his skills he tried to build a trap all by his own. The trap exploded right into his face (he himself has no idea how it didn't kill him or damaged his eyes). After that he was sulking in his hunting hut for a month. The experience humbled the boy. Most of his adventuring prior to the nautiloid could just be boiled down to hanging around one village and talking local boars out of destroying potato fields, and occasionally getting rid of poachers.

Before the abduction he was on his way to Baldur's Gate to see his family (which he hasn't seen in months).

Trivia (because it's easier to write stuff this way):

His hair started to go grey at the start of Act 3 from the weight of responsibility and stress.

In Act 1 he was corresponding with his family thanks to Faust. After entering The Underdark he stopped sending letters (In Underdark because it would be hard, in Act 2 because he didn't want the bird to be killed by Shadow Curse).

Despite being close to his family in Act 3, he didn't visit them or send any messages in fear that Gortash and/or Orin would hurt them.

He carries with him a razor and some fancy oils for his beard.

His brother wrote one ballad about him, soon after that Tav forbid him from writing more (it was very much not accurate).

His step-dad taught him how to fight with a sword, while his mom taught him archery and the art of stealth.

Tav's biological father died when he was very young so he has barely any memory of him.

Tav's a walking Merlin app, he can identify any bird by just listening to it.

He loves climbing trees. Either to rest on a branch or to scout the surroundings.

He loves picking up herbs and making potions.

Despite growing up in a tavern he's not much of a drinker.

He's very self-conscious about his height and chest-to-belly area. He tries his best not to show it.

At one point he was persona non grata at Sharess' Caress.

He enjoys fishing.

Sir Daisy Dewdrop Fluffington is a name of his childhood plush.

He knows how to play lanceboard (he often plays against Gale and tries to teach it to Wyll).

He draws in his journal. He drew all of his companions at least once.

He almost cried when Jaheira called him 'cub' and almost called her 'mom' in response.

He's scared of Lae'zel. But tries his best to understand and help her.

He had countless heart-to-hearts with Karlach.

In his journal he described Astarion as 'his equal on the battlefield'.

[dittolicous]

hear me out

stealth black!sanji where sanji does indeed start losing his emotions and word makes it way back to judge, so he has him kidnapped/his death faked and uses science to rush the removal of emotions along with wiping a good chunk of his memories to make him easier to control... the focus however was high-key placed on emotions such as empathy, humility, kindness, joy, etc. since judge wanted to ensure to an absolute degree that sanji's 'flaws' were wiped clean, leaving only the perfected stealth black he was always meant to be

but judge makes a mistake

in his hurry to eradicate the humanity, he didnt consider the consequences of leaving even an inkling of negative emotions within an abused, aching shell - smattering of disjointed memories, blurry faces in sporatic dreams, voices that are just outside his grasp, a longing for something but yet lacking a name...

injured, raw, bloody from unknown wounds he may be, but stupid, sanji is not

he's stealth black, espionage is his specialty, he knows how the human mind works, how words can be twisted, the ways a tide can be turned with the right leverage. all people, with the right tools, are malleable. he also knows the range of his 'father's' skills, knows how far judge would go to secure a victory, how little he fears damaging his own to get the right outcome...

sanji knows

there is a hole where his heart ahould be, deep, dark, and endless. he cannot feel love, but he knows its absence. there is no sympathy for the innocent lives ravaged in the vinsmoke name, yet its mention brings bile to his throat. he sees the sunrise across the sea with blank eyes and watches it set on the corpses of kingdoms with growing repulsion

his brothers laugh, they were taught how despite it having little meaning to them. they echo the teachings of their father.

sanji had that ripped away. he can recognize a hole when he sees it even if he doesnt know what once filled it. there are no empty laughs. no fake smiles. no uncaring boasts. he cannot, there was no reason for him to (were even the echos of joy a risk?)

instead he burns

hot loathing makes a home in his chest. contemp and fury settle in his lungs, growing with every breath he takes, fueled by the embers of despair settling in his stomach

sanji knows despair, knows how deep their roots take in humanity, that to be human is to suffer... but without the other half, the joy of human connection which makes it all worthwhile, the act of living, he cannot conceptualize the value of being alive in the face of such suffering

instead he stands back and watches. unbalanced, unchecked, and under-estimated, stealth black plans. he'll rid the world of their filth, finishing the job blackleg sanji was too weak to do

for in his hurry, judge forgot about sanji's rage, about the depths of his grief and the ferocity of his burning passion. so afraid of one little boys generosity, he brushes off the dangers of unbridled resentment, that malice cannot always be reigned in by an iron fist alone

and where once, there were certain teachings of honor and integrity, of love and belief to temper this flame, judge left nothing. he took away the soft words of a kind mother, the sharp kicks of a caring father (his real father), the unabashed voices of true nakama...

is it really all that surprising that once loving flames would turn into a blazing inferno, one which burns the world indiscriminately?

judge doesnt realize he didnt defang the wolf, no, he removed the muzzle

tl;dr - if a person is made of burning passion and you remove their kindness, wouldnt that just leaving burning? judge focuses only on getting rid of sanji's soft traits not considering that he'd never actually be able to control a sanji that rages indiscriminately, which eventually comes to bite him in the ass as stealth black sets the world on fire out of self-loathing

[radioisntdead]

Happy Father's Day folks! I bring you Alastor, Vox and Husk dad headcanons because the original fic I was writing wouldn't be done in time so that'll be posted eventually.

Alastor

Well it looks like someone got picked up off the streets! You!

I love the accidentally became a dad trope for Alastor, he just causally stumbled upon you and then couldn't get rid of you.

Occasionally tries to get you to sign your soul to him especially if you have potential to become someone great and powerful.

Fails to optain your soul EVERY SINGLE TIME, L, sucks for him.

The only screentime you get is when the hotel has movie nights or whenever anyone that's not Alastor is babysitting you lets you watch cartoons.

Teaches you how to cook Louisianan dishes, like how his mother taught him.

I imagine he reads you the original version of the grimm brother fairy tales.

You get him this shirt and he wears it as a pajama or whenever Lucifers near by.

He doesn't seem like the type to drive but if he does he plays jazz and talks about it like how dad's talking about rock or whatever they listen to.

Dad jokes, dad jokes galore.

Vox

Firstly I am so sorry that you're an iPad kid!

Does NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE with Valentino,

Depending if you're biological child from his time alive or not you might actually have a screen head.

iPad kid, iPad Dad.

Valentino is smart enough to know that he's not to mess with you but it's Valentino.

Velvette is either your aunt, older sister figure or cousin figure.

Definitely gives you all the latest electronics.

I'm pretty sure you're a nepotism baby here so you wanna star in a movie? A regular NON- Valentino film? You're the main character! You wanna start a singing career? Hatsune Miku who?

You probably have your own show on his TV programs.

Someone upsets you? You're whipping out your phone and calling Daddy.

Like my other Dad vox headcanons, You just chill out in his office at times, or chill out in the back while he's hosting a meeting popping in with your two cents every once in awhile.

In the totally unlikely event that he gets taken out during extermination, you get Voxtech.

Husker

If you're underage he's not giving you drinks, doesn't matter that you're both in hell, you're not drinking underage!

He's definitely the type of dad to let you take a sip from his beer during like new years or something though but like not a whole bottle.

I personally headcanon that he's been divorced like twice and has at least two kids so who knows you might have a sibling running around somewhere!

I imagine you're also a cat, meow.

He's actually a decent dad, definitely supports you in whatever you wanna do although grumpily.

Has a picture of you as a baby in his wallet, or hat.

You mention you like that specific brand of chips? He's getting you some every time he goes to the store.

Your favorite soda is A PAIN TO FIND? and it's only at specific stores? He gets you a couple of them whenever he sees them.

Teaches you magic tricks and also how to gamble,

He taught you everything he knows.

Happy Father's Day folks! I hope you have a wonderful day and spend time with your fathers/father figures or if you don't have one of those that you have a good day regardless,

Despite the oddly common assumption, I do infact have a Dad, so I will be hanging out with my dad until he has to leave because he's going to a game, as always thank you for tuning in!

Psst! You should totally join our discord server!

[spacebarbarianweird]

Personal headcanons I have for Astarion

Origin

- He was born in Evereska to Caeldrim and Sylen Ancunin

- For both of his parents it was the second marriage (their first spouses/soulmates had died)

- Ancunin is Sylenn’s surname

- His parents had a huge age gap (300 years)

- Astarion’s father was a minor nobility and his mother was from a family of artisans

- Sylenn is High Elf/Fighter and a former mercenary

- She also was Balduran's bodyguard and mocked him and Ansur for their relationship drama

- Astarion had an older half-sister but she was killed at the age of 4

Childhood

- Sylenn gave birth to Astarion after decades of infertility

- He was given an adult name right away though it was considered a bad luck

- His original eye colour is green

- Sylenn taught him to pick lockets and steal things

- Caeldrim would complain it felt like having two children around

- Since childhood Astarion was obsessed with human laws and traditions and left to the Swords Coast at the age of 23

Youth

- He was the oldest at his course as he was studying in Baldur’s Gate

- Astarion wasn't a magistrate but served as an assistant to the one, a human woman called Alette whose friend he was

- He could become a magistrate only through marriage and it was discussed that Alette could legally marry him and pass her position to him once she is old though Astarion wasn't sure he wanted that

- Before death, Astarion despised people who slept around or were into one-night-stands

- He had two prolonged relationships (a human woman and a half elven man)

Death and vampirism

- The Gurs commited a series of crimes in the city including murders and sexual assaults and the commonfolk demanded to get rid of them

- Astarion was chosen as the one who would announce the decision and he was naive enough not to understand why other city magistrates didn't want to do that

- Later he was stabbed to death in the streets. His attackers were found and hanged

- In the AU where he doesnt become a vampire he leaves the city soon after

- Cazador hadn't known about him before and found him by accident

- If Cazador hadn't found him, there was a big chance Astarion would have been saved by the locals and brought to the healers

- Astarion was sent to streets only 30 years later. Before that he fully belonged to Cazador who used the tortures and rape to break his newfound spawn

- Since Astarion was young by elven standards, his mind was flexible (like one of a child) and it helped him to preserve sanity (but he also forgot almost everything what had been before)

Freedom

- At first, Tiriel annoyed him but with days to come he started liking her more and more

- She helped him to reconnect with his elven ancestry by asking him to teach her language and certain customs

- They spent 15 years traveling together searching for the cure until they reached for Daggerlake, a town enslaved by feys

- Astarion managed to end the pact and the locals asked him and Tiriel to stay

- Parenthood was a sheer accident and Astarion even tried to run away (and Tiriel talked to healer about termination)

- He enjoyed being a parent and wouldn't mind to have more children

- Alethaine definitely helped him with healing because having a child was something normal people do

- Later he and Tiriel moved to Luskan where Tiriel was the head of the adventuring guild

- After Tiriel’s death Astarion didn't want any relationship with anyone and stuck with celibacy for centuries to come (just because he didn't find anyone desirable enough)

- 220 years post game he started the Blood Guild, a union of dhampirs and vampires

- He had only one grandchild, an elven girl called Tiri born 322 years post game

- Tiri came to the guild at the age of 23 and persuaded Astarion to show her the world

- Meanwhile he was a rather chill and permitting father, as a grandfather he was more steict but he managed to become an authority figure for his granddaughter (and Alethaine was surprised to see that Tiri does indeed listen to him and does as he says)

Mortality

- While adventuring Tiri and Astarion accidentally found the cure for him and he becomes mortal 400 years post game

- His soul was new and not connected to his previous lives, he'd lost them forever

- Astarion lived for another 150 years as mortal, has a couple of relationships and also enjoys life to its fullest scale

- He dies during a siege by refusing to leave the battlefield (he realized should he live longer he would overlive Alethaine)

- His oldest great grandchild is named after him but he prefers the shorter version, Rion. The half elf/ dhampir also has to dealt with the remnants of the Blood Guild

- Astarion goes to Arvandor and to his surprise meets Tiriel as an elf

- When she died her soul was given a choice what destiny she wanted and she chose the destiny of an elf becuase she hoped to see Astarion again

- They spend some time together and later decide to reincarnate even knowing that they will lose their memories

- Astarion and Tiriel reincarnate a few centuries later and find each other soon enough (70 and 80 years respectively)

[larluce]

Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , @gregre369 , @chaosofbelievers , @thelordofabsolutelynothing , @another-tblr-fangirl , @aceauthorcatqueen , @smileytrinity , @tiny-and-witchy , @wako-weirdo , @a-very-tired-ravenclaw , @schiwalkers-ineffability , @natsu2501malo , @dearfuturelyn , @thedollopheadofcamelot , @yougottobekittenme , @your-local-asylum-escapee , @theroundbartable , @alo-ween , @orliththedragon We are back to the present.

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 (You're here) , PART 13

In Arthur's chambers. Arthur And Merlin snuggling in bed while Arthur reads a book to his chicks.

Arthur: And the princess and the knight lived happily ever after.

Brave: (on Merlin's shoulder) I wanna be a Knight! 😄 (Makes fighting movements)

Rain: (on Arthur's shoulder) I wanna be a Princess! 🤩 (Makes dancing movements like she is wearing a dress)

Merlin: My chicks, you are a birds, you can't-

Arthur: You can be whatever you want, babies.

Chicks: Yay! 😄😊😄😊😄

Merlin: (glares at Arthur)

Arthur: What?

Uther: (Knocks the door from outside) Arthur?

Merlin: (changes to bird form)

Uther: (enters) Son, we need to... (Looks Arthur is holding a book and has 2 chicks on his shoulders, 1 on his lap and the rest on the bed) talk.

Chicks: (stay silent immediately like Merlin taught them cause old meany human is scary and they were told old meany human gets rid of misbehaved falcons)

Arthur: (like nothing is out of the ordinary) What is it?

Uther: Are you reading to the birds?

Arthur: It helps them sleep.

Uther: They could poop your bed!

Arthur: Oh, they don't do that anymore. They use their potty.

Uther: Their what?

Wary: (on Arthur's shoulder, chirps very quietly) Poop, poop 🥺.

Arthur: (puts Wary and Rain on his lap and pulls out a little potty from under the bed with a bird engraved in it) Here.

Wary: (jumps moving his wings to the edge of the potty and poops inside) 😊

Arthur: (to Uther) See? They are very clean.

Uther: It's... quite impressive, I suppose. But you are humanizing these animals too much.

Arthur: I am not! (puts his chicks in the nest to sleep, covering them with a blanket)

Uther: You read them to sleep, you put blankets on their nest-

Arthur: Just one blanket and it's to keep them warn.

Uther: -and you barely leave your chambers now. You only spend time with them.

Arthur: (stands up holding the nest and looks lovingly at his babies) I just... don't want to miss on any moment of their childhood.

Uther: (snaps) Childhood? THEY ARE NOT CHILDREN! THEY ARE FUCKING ANIMALS! 😡

Chicks: (chirp a little in the nest without being able to help it, very scared, though Guardian still puts himself infront of his siblings, protective)🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Merlin: (flies to the nest protecting his chicks and kills Uther with his eyes)

Arthur: Father, please lower your voice. You're scaring them and Merlin might attack you if he considers you a threat.

Uther: (about to yell again, but remembers Merlin took some witch's eyes out so he takes a deep breath to compose himself and lowers his voice) What I'm trying to say is that you've been cooped up with these birds for too long. You're neglecting your duties.

Arthur: (puts the nest with Merlin and his chicks on top of the wardrove) But I've been to every reunion and done every report you asked.

Uther: But you don't go on quests anymore.

Arthur: There hasn't been one.

Uther: Well, now there is. (Gives Arthur a parchment) There have been riots in the villages near the citadel. It could be just some vandals, but just in case is something more serious you must go to enssure and calm the citizens.

Arthur: But, my chicks-

Uther: Will be fine. You have hundreds of servants at your disposal. I'm sure you can leave them for a couple of days.

Arthur: I don't trust the servants.

Uther: Well that's a shame, because you are going either way. It's an order.

Arthur: (sighs) Yes, father.

Uther: (leaves)

Merlin: (flies next to Arthur and changes back to his human form)

Arthur: Are they still awake?

Merlin: No, I managed to make them sleep. They'll probably have nightmares with Uther though.

Arthur: Well, you heard my father. I have to leave the castle for a couple of days, so you'll have to look after the chicks alone.

Merlin: Oh, I'm not staying. I'm coming with you.

Arthur: What?!

Merlin: You think I'm going to let go into danger all by yourself?

Arthur: Is not a dangerous quest, just a visit to the neighboring villages.

Merlin: Where riots are taking place. What if some bandid or raider tries to kill you? Or an evil sorcerer? Or some magical creature? I need to be there to protect you!

Arthur: Now you are overreacting.

Merlin: Really? When does any of your quests has ever no ended up with someone or something trying to kill you?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow)

Arthur: I'm the best knight in Camelot and I'll bring a cavalry with me. I'll be fine.

Merlin: Yeah, sure 😒. I'm coming with you.

Arthur: Merlin, one of us has to stay with the chicks. Or are you really going to let some strangers look after them?

Merlin: Of course not. We'll bring them with us.

Arthur: WHAT?!😨 Are you mad?!😠 We can't bring them to the quest. It's too dangerous!

Merlin: You just said it wasn't dangerous.

Arthur: For them it's dangerous!😡 They are too small still!

Merlin: They are almost my bird size now!

Arthur: But they don't know how to fly and you have magic to protect yourself, they don't. Nature is dangerous, there are all kind of predators outside. You should be very aware of this. One broke your wing and Brownie was killed by one of those!

Merlin: Yes, nature is dangerous. But guess what? Brownie would've raise them in nature! Because that's where they are supposed to be living!😡

Arthur and Merlin open their eyes wide when they realise they raised their voices while arguing and turn to the chicks quickly, scared that they woke them by accident with their outburst. Luckyly they're still asleep so they sigh in relief.

Arthur: (calmer and in more quiet voice) What do you mean by that?

Merlin: (calmer and in a more quiet voice too) I hate to say this, but Uther is right, you're giving the chicks a human treatment. And I understand why you do it. You want to show them that you see them as equal and you are caring for them in the only way you know. But they are not human, they are falcons and falcons don't have potties or blankets in nature. Falcons don't know what "Knight" or "Princess" mean. There's no chirp for those words in falcon vocabulary. Our chicks made them up! They shouldn't be able to do that. They shouldn't be able to understand english at all!

Arthur: And that's bad because...?

Merlin: They're going to fly and leave the nest soon. How will they adapt to nature if they never go outside these 4 walls? How will they be able to socialize with other merlins if they're basically creating their own language?

Arthur: I get your point, but they will be fine. If you want them to have their glimpse of nature so much, we can take them to the garden one of these days. But I won't take the chicks on this quest.

Merlin: (sighs) Fine, but I'm still going with you.

Arthur: Who will take care of our chicks then?

The next day. In Morgana's chambers. Merlin and Arthur talking to Morgana and Gwen, while the chicks are playing in their auntie's bed.

Arthur: and Rain likes her bird in little pieces. You don't have to take out the bones, but make sure they don't have sharp parts-

Merlin: For the love of-Just make sure the prey is clean and fresh. They know how to tear it themselfs.

Morgana: Water and birds 3 times a day. Got it.

Arthur: (gives Gwen 3 books) Their favourite tales. (Gives her 2 potties) Their potties. (Gives her a little blanket) Their blanket. You have to-

Gwen: Read them to sleep, change one potty for the other when it needs to be washed and cover the chicks at night. Am I right?

Arthur: (smiles) Exactly.

Merlin: Don't put the nest so close to the floor.

Arthur: But not too high either.

Merlin: You can show them the view from the window. They love that.

Arthur: But just with supervision. Don't let them near the window alone.

Merlin: But more importantly.

Arthur: And over all things.

Arthur and Merlin: (at the same time) Always. Close. The door.

Morgana and Gwen: (confused) ... What?

Merlin: They'll run around the place at any given chance.

Arthur: Which is fine, only and just only if they don't leave this room.

Morgana: We will, but is such precaution really necessary? They don't know how to fly yet and their legs are pretty small. How far can they go?

Arthur: Very far.

Merlin: I'll just tell you this. I'm part falcon, Which means my eyesight is 8 times better than a human's. I can spot a prey from more than a mile away. And yet Blizzard escaped my sight when he got lost at the feast. So don't understimate them, Morgana. Close. The. Door.

Rain: (on a pillow, chirps loudly) Help! Help!

Morgana: (Runs fast to her bed, worried) What is it Rain? Are you okay?

Arthur: Oh, don't worry. She's just playing.

Morgana: Playing? Playing what?

Merlin: They call it "The Princess' rescue".

Blizzard: (puts himself infront of Rain standing up high, stretching his wings, and makes a raw chirp)

Guardian and Brave: (pretend they are dodging something and "attack" Blizzard)

Merlin: Rain is the Princess, Blizzard the dragon that holds her capture and Guardian and Brave the knights that come to her rescue.

Wary: (makes himself a ball and stays still)

Morgana: (to Wary) And what are you supposed to be?

Wary: I'm a rock 😊.

Morgana: ...

Guardian: (breaks character) He doesn't like fighting and we offer him to be the Princess once but he didn't want to.

Brave: (uses Wary to evade the dragon's attack)

Guardian: And it's perfect for hiding.

Brave: Guardian, I need help!

Guardian: Coming! (Goes back to character to help Brave) Die, Dragon! 😠 (stacks Blizzard from behind)

Gwen: (Looks at Morgana strangely)

Morgana: (turns to Gwen) What?

Gwen: You can really communicate with birds? I thought you were just pretending to make the chicks more comfortable.

Morgana: Oh, no. I did a translation spell on Arthur and then Merlin did the same spell on me. So now we both can understand merlin language.

Gwen: That's so cool! 😃

Morgana: Want me to do the spell on you too? 😏

Gwen: (thoughtful) Hmmm... I don't know. I feel like this is more a family thing and I know myself. I'll probably end up talking with them constantly and people'll think I'm insane.

Morgana: (holds her hand and looks at her fondly, smiling) Well, if you ever want to, you can ask me.

Gwen: (smiles back and blushes a little)

Arthur and Merlin: ...

Arthur: Well, we're leaving.

Merlin: (turns to bird form and flies to his chicks) My chicks, Mama and Papa must leave now. Be good falcons and always listen to auntie Morgana and Gwen.

Chicks: (stop playing and go to Merlin) Yes, Mama. 😊

Merlin: (Gives them each one a kiss on the head with his beak)

Arthur: (picks up Rain) Goodbye, my baby girl. (Touches Rain's beak with his nose fondly, kisses her head and puts her back on the bed gently. Then picks up Wary) Goodbye, little bean. (Touches Wary's beak with his nose and kisses his head too. Puts him back on the bed and picks up Blizzard) Goodbye, little demon. (Points a finger at him warnly) And behave.

Blizzard: (pecks Arthur's finger defiantly, like saying "You can't tell me what to do")

Arthur: (rolls his eyes and puts him back. Then picks up Brave) Goodbye, Brave. (Shakes the feathers of his head fondly and puts him back on the bed. Then picks up Guardian) Goodbye, Guardian. I know you'll keep them in place.

Guardian: (brings his little wing to his head like a soldier)

Arthur: (makes the gesture too laughing a little and puts him back on the bed. Then speaks to all of them) We'll be back as soon as we can, okay, babies? I love you.

Chicks: Bye, Papa. Love you too. 😊

Merlin: (flies to Arthur's shoulder)

Morgana: (hugs Arthur and pats Merlin's head goodbye) Take care.

Arthur: We will.

Gwen: (bows both Arthur and Merlin) Have a good journey. Your chicks are in good hands.

Arthur: (smiles) Thank you. (gives a last look to his chicks and finally leaves with Merlin)

Morgana: Wow, than went better than I expected.

Gwen: What do you mean?

Morgana: Well, with how spoiled they are, I though the chicks would start crying and begging them not to go.

Guardian: We are big chicks.

Blizzard: Yeah, we don't cry.

Brave: Crying is for hatchlings.

Rain: And is not the first time Papa and Mama leave us with you, anyways.

Morgana: (impressed) It's true. It's nice to see you're more mature now. (To Gwen) They say they are big chicks and won't cry just because their parents left for three days.

Gwen: Awww. See? Taking care of them won't be so hard. (Picks up Brave) Who is a good baby? You are! 🤗

Brave: I'm not a baby 😠. I'm a big chick.

Gwen: You're so cute! 🥰

Brave: NO! I'm a predator! Fear me! 😤

Morgana: (laughs)

Time skip. At night. Morgana and Gwen taking the chicks to bed.

Gwen: (carrying the books) Which one should we read them?

Morgana: (On bed with the nest with the chicks on her lap) Let me ask them. (To the chicks) Which tale would your prefer tonight, big chicks? "The princess and the frog" or-

Rain: Where are Mama and Papa?

Morgana: (confused) In their quest. Outside.

Rain: But they are too late!

Guardian: Yeah, they are always here by story time. What if something happened to them?

Brave: A Predator! 😨

Blizzard: Mama and Papa were eaten by a predator?! 😱

Wary: Mama and Papa are dead! 😭

Morgana: No! Of course not! Mama and Papa are fine. Didn't they tell You they were going to be out for three days?

Rain: Yeah, Mama and Papa are always out for three something.

Morgana: (confused) Three something?

Wary: (still crying) Three hours, three minutes, three seconds. 😭

Rain: Yeah, that. I don't know what the difference is.

Morgana: (pales) Oh, gods.

Gwen: What is it? What did they say?

Morgana: They don't know how much time a day is. That's why they were so chill before. They thought their parents were going to be back in three hours at most!

Gwen: Oh, shit.

Rain: I want Mama and Papa! 😭

Wary: I don't want Mama and Papa to be dead! 😭

Brave: Bring Mama and Papa! 😭

Blizzard: I'll revenge Mama and Papa's death! 😭

Guardian: Stop saying Mama and Papa are dead! They are not dead! 😭

Morgana: Exactly. Mama and Papa are not dead. They are just going to be outside longer than usual. Please, don't cry. You are big chicks, remember?

Chicks: (keep crying) 😭😭😭😭😭

Gwen: (Gives Morgana a book) Maybe if you start reading them they'll calm down.

Morgana: Yes! Who wants to hear a story? 🤗

Chicks: (Stop crying for moment, though they are still sad) Me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺.

Morgana: (Opens the book and starts reading) Once upon a time-

Rain: That's not how Papa does it! 😭

Blizzard: I can't see the pictures from here! 😭

Wary: I want Papa's shoulder! 😭

Brave: I want Mama's shoulder! 😭

Guardian: I'm a big chick, I'm a big chick! 😭

Morgana: (Gives a long sigh) This is going to be a long night.

...

What do you think is going to happen next? Are the chick going to get into trouble? 👀

[ninyard]

what is your most unhinged neil hc

(tw; animal cruelty)

there's a line in tkm where neil says he "hadn't progressed past cutting up hunks of dead animals" and that two of nathan's people taught him to use a knife.

i had to search for a while to find the exact quote because i thought it was "neil hadn't progressed on from just killing animals". it's only because i read it over my partner's shoulder yesterday or the day before that i even remember that line existed, and I remembered it wrong. but instead of ignoring that old oopsie daisy of my memory, i propose to you this;

when andrew suggests the idea of getting a cat, or arrives home one random day with a kitten in his arms, neil freaks out. he'd never had a pet before, or thought about having one, but for a second he's back in his childhood home and remembering those few months where his father's people handed neil a knife and curled his fingers around it like the handle in his palm was his purpose.

chunks of meat turns into dead mice and then rats, then alive squirrels or birds, but one day he's sitting with romero maybe, and he is talking neil through the best places to stab someone for them to bleed out slowly, when lola comes into the cellar with her coat wrapped around something. her smile is evil, it's disgusting, and when neil is stupid enough to ask her what she has, she laughs.

i think you're ready for it, junior, she says, with her lips curled into a grin, sharing a glance with romero as she turns to show him what she's hiding in her hands. romero matches her laugh with a pleased nod. all this practice has to mean something, doesn't it?

so she pulls this tiny animal out of her pocket, no bigger than her hand, her fingers almost making a full loop around it. when neil looks closer at the kitten, there's no way it can be older than a few days old. he tells lola hes not doing it. she tells him he has no choice. and so he has no choice.

when andrew comes into their apartment, and his hair is all soaking wet because its pouring down outside, neil doesn't see lola in the room until he hears the quiet meow of whatever andrew is keeping dry under his jacket.

neil remembers how he threw up, how he was beaten for crying, how he begged and begged not to have to do it, which just got him in even more trouble. this tiny, helpless kitten in andrew’s hands triggers him to the point where andrew finds a box to keep it in and after punching some air holes in it, he hide it away in their closet, away enough that Neil can’t hear it’s incessant meows.

neil feels awful in that moment, remembering what he did, remembering what he was forced to do. he gets over it slowly, quietly. but before that, andrew tells him in seriousness if he wants him to get rid of it he will, if neil can’t have a pet like a cat, if it’s too much of a trigger for him. neil sees how much andrew looks after the abandoned little kitten, and he can’t. he can’t tell him to get rid of it, even though every time he looks at it he’s overwhelmed by guilt and trauma enough to leave the room.

in the end, it’s ends up being really healing, neil having a relationship with that little kitten. andrew tells him he found it on the road, alone, abandoned. it would have died if he hadn’t stopped to save it. it would’ve died if neil hadn’t let it stay. it’s like a second chance for him, to show the love he can have for such an animal, to try to get over the guilt of what he did, what he can’t take back.

[cartersblogabtnothing]

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s dick grayson rocking himself to sleep after he lost the only person who ever looked at him as a person instead of as a symbol or a picture perfect soldier.

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s jason todd trying to reason with himself about the longing he feels everytime he’s around bruce or dick, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t miss them, he just misses what they gave him.

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s tim drake trying to keep himself calm as he realizes no matter how similar he is to bruce, or how smart or fast or well trained he is, he will never be dick grayson or jason todd and that is all that will ever matter to bruce wayne. it’s tim drake realizing he will never be enough for anyone, and that he did all of this for nothing.

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s damian wayne rocking himself while trying to understand why his father would do something to hurt him, why his mother wasn’t with him anymore, how he died, why he has a brother that will never be more than a tool for him to use. it’s damian wayne realizing that batman and robin aren’t the dynamic duo he thought they were.

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s duke thomas realizing that he’ll never be seen as a part of the family because he didn’t start out like the rest of them did. he’ll always be the outlier, no matter what situation he’s put into. he’ll always be different in every aspect, and he can never tell if it’s something bruce wants to praise or wants to get rid of.

“it’s just a girl harmonizing with her fan,” no it’s bruce wayne watching all of his children slowly break because of him, because of his lack of responsibility, because he cannot open up to anyone about anything after what happened to his parents. it’s bruce wayne watching his children grow up to be smaller versions of himself when he was trying to avoid that this entire time. it’s bruce wayne watching his oldest crumble and break into a million pieces and not being able to do anything about it. it’s bruce wayne realizing his babyboy, the only kid that he’s taken in that felt like his, is dead and he can’t do anything to bring him back. it’s bruce wayne watching tim work and work and work until he collapses because bruce taught him that without work, he means nothing.

[teatraps]

Gotta rant about Edgar Valden rq

Cause seriously, his character is so cool to me. Like, you have the basic rundown. Rich kid ran away from home because he was dissatisfied with his life there. But then, all of that ends up just being a red herring. The “dissatisfaction” which always came off as him just being in his own head and looking down on others because he thinks he’s better than them gets flipped on its head with his 3rd letter. All of his trash talk makes so much more sense. He wasn’t just saying he didn’t care about other people’s opinions or money or fame because he was super self absorbed. He was saying that because he knew first hand the damage chasing money, fame, and power can cause. Really thinking about it, his father basically killed his entire family for status. And then, the slight implication that Edgar’s dad knew what Sarai was doing to Edgar the whole time. Now, it’s vague about what Sarai did to Edgar, but it was obviously bad enough to deteriorate his mental health to the point of having hallucinations. All that, and his dad never got rid of Sarai. Never fired him. Nothing. Which makes sense, because having a super talented artist in the family looks good for status, why would his dad care. He couldn’t care enough to let his wife rest to get better from her illness, or to actually look for his youngest child when she went missing.

For the little we do know about Sarai, we know he taught Edgar that praise is the highest form of love. Again, playing into the idea that Edgar was brought up to try and appease others and try to get status and fame. This is even kinda hinted at in his very first letter when he tells Ella that he’s going to become a famous artist, a goal he ends up feeling disillusioned by. The fact he still kept painting even after no longer wanting fame and recognition shows his love for painting was rooted in something much deeper than that. Then, referencing back to his deductions where he says that life is beautiful and the brush can preserve that beauty, it shows exactly what it was that keeps him going with art. He thinks life is beautiful. A simple reason, but a lovely one nonetheless. He cherishes the beautiful moments like the time he had with his mother or Ella.

This also could change what he even meant by looking for inspiration when going to the manor. When he talks about how he finds no inspiration in his home, it’s not something as simple as everything is just boring. He talks about how the culture of the aristocracy is just straight up draining for him. The greed. The constant push for more money and status, even at the cost of loved ones. The shallowness. There’s no beauty in it, he can’t find inspiration in it. Even as he signs off his farewell letter, he implies he would never go back home. He’s not just running off on some little trip to find inspiration and go home right after. He was straight up cutting off the life he once knew because it wasn’t really a life at all. As he puts it, he was just another decoration for his dad. For most of his life, he was kind of treated as less than human. More like a party trick for his dad to show off and gain their family more status.

And while we don’t know much about his role in game 5, the context of the game makes him stand out a lot. Outside of the fact that Edgar wasn’t in a faction at the start and the only character truly confirmed dead, his goals are also completely different from the rest of the group and he thematically differs from the others. Every other character is in some way trying to fix some “issue” with themself to try to assimilate into a group they were ostracized from (I say issue in quotes because it’s usually something out of their control that they honestly shouldn’t have been blamed for). Chloe trying to become Vera to be accepted, Jose trying to get his first officer title back and rejoin the aristocracy (or his alcoholism in order to maintain his station as a first officer in the first place), Kevin trying to prove to himself that he’s reached a point where he could’ve protected Angelina so he can face her tribe, and Patricia trying to rid herself of her curse in order to be accepted into her mother’s village. Meanwhile, there’s Edgar who was wanted by his community, but not taken care of by them. All five of them have a similar goal, to get some form of community and support, but Edgar is in a much different position from the rest of his team since he is more confident in himself and who he is. It’s never been called into question, and I don’t think that’s a negative trait either since every time someone in game 5 tries to correct their “flaw” it causes more harm than good. From Chloe killing her sister who was innocent, to Jose accidentally poisoning Kevin who was innocent, Patricia killing Edgar even though he didn’t do anything to her, and even Kevin being self destructive in drinking the poison. Not to mention three out of four of them feel regret and unfulfilled after they do it (and the one I’m not counting is Patricia because it’s not fully confirmed, but tbh there are things that foreshadow her not feeling fulfilled either so you could make it four out of four). Edgar, at least on the surface, didn’t internalize that there was something wrong with him that made the people around him treat him like trash, mainly because he was always desired by the people around him. These people still weren’t good for him though, leading to the lack of inspiration they give him. As he says, he’s looking for “fresh colors” and Edgar only refers to colors when he’s talking about someone he cared for (his mom = green, Ella = white, Sarai = red). Edgar looking for fresh colors could probably roughly translate to looking for new companionship with people that actually care about him.

If I really wanted to get into the internalizing thing tho, I’d probably say his willingness to sacrifice himself probably comes from…

1. Being so used to getting treated like a tool his entire life he thinks it’s the standard to a degree (hence why he’ll complain about having to play hero roles but still gets them regularly anyway)

2. Being unable to truly repent to Patricia because he can’t bring himself to apologize for killing Sarai (and he shouldn’t tbh, especially considering that was like his first act of true autonomy)

3. And lastly, just not really having anywhere to go after the manor. His goalpost ended at the manor while the other four saw it more as a stepping stone to get to other places.

And that’s not even getting into his overall lore relevance because let’s not act like he didn’t imply the Deross family are family friends of the Valden family in his 3rd letter. PLUS he has ties to Barriere.

He’s always got this slightly hopeful air to him, like he’s always looking up. It’s honestly just a really nice breather from the usual doom and gloom of idv’s storyline (granted his story is still depressing asf, but for idv standards it’s pretty happy. Like his 3rd letter where he just goes no contact with his dad is probably one of the healthiest things I’ve ever seen an idv character do). Even in the end, he gets the ending he wanted. He finds the inspiration he was looking for, but tbh I don’t think it was death that he was trying to achieve. His deaths are always portrayed as sacrifices specifically. It’s usually not something he really wants to do. Runaway didn’t want to risk his life and put himself in danger with mir, but he does it because he doesn’t want to abandon the followers to a cult. Censer didn’t want to die, he still really wanted to see his creator’s wish come true, but he accepts death if it will bring it closer to coming true. Even in his experiment file, Orpheus says Edgar accepted it at the end, so he decides to accept it at the end of the game. Most likely for some greater goal that hasn’t been revealed yet since Orpheus was hella vague in his experiment file.

I could honestly go on and on about how well executed his whole character is too. With how well they played into double entendres with his words and used a lot of art metaphors to sort of hide his actual character so on the surface you wouldn’t clock it immediately. Or the carefully picked art references they used in his trailer that all tie into his character really well (I still think he has one of the best trailers to date). To even the way his birthday letters are released, and keeping his perspective on game 5 hidden despite probably having the most reliable account, instead having other characters describe him to play into the misdirection.

I could literally talk for hours about Edgar Valden, he is the idv character of all time and I love him sm

[ditoob]

Counsel to the Young Prince of Ithaka

“You see, Odysseus,” my grandfather shifted his weight on the unsteady branches of an old olive tree. We were far outside of the palace, away from the view of the royal guard and my father. He loved these places, trails that wouldn’t necessarily lead you anywhere in particular, and there were many in Ithaka, though it was a small island. He plucked a small bunch of olives from the branches, cupping them neatly in his hand as he came back down towards me. He passed me one — purple, soft and overripe. I grimaced as it fell on my hands, mother always said they were bad for you. “You wouldn’t eat one of those would you? They’re much too old now”, he dropped the rest of the purple olives on the grass.

“Oh don’t make that face!”, he said as he reached into his old leather bag, “Here! You’ll prefer this”. His arm outstretched toward me, holding an apple, an ugly, rotten thing. It seemed to crumble every time he swung his arms around to speak — which he always did. “Appearances are very important, young man, aren’t they?”, he said confidently, Grandpa Autolycus always knew what he spoke of, he had lived a life full of experience. “You wouldn’t eat this, would you?” he held it nearer to me. “No! Eww”, I grimaced, it smelled even worse than it looked. “But what if I…” he held my attention as he passed the rotten apple behind his back, from his right hand to his left, and out came a shining, almost golden, apple. They said it was his gift, as the son of lord Hermes.

“How did you do that!” I was shocked, my eyes filled with wonder at the gleaming fruit in front of me. It seemed to glow as the sun struck it through the leaves of the olive trees that surrounded us. It almost looked godly, like something Lady Athena or the mighty Lord Zeus would dine on. I inched ever closer towards it, its beauty mesmerizing me. The smell of rot and disgust hit my nose the moment the apple was up to my young face, and I darted back as the horrible stench approached me. “Appearances can be deceiving, wouldn’t you say?” he laughed as I attempted to get rid of the smell that had now plagued my nose and would disappointingly remain with me for the remainder of the day.

“But one can change their appearance” I saw the apple transform with a snap of his fingers, crumbling back into the rotten mess it was before “Even the mightiest of men can look poor and wretched if given enough practice. Even you, Odysseus!” He said as he ruffled my hair, laughing as the strands began to cover my gray eyes. In between laughs I stammered, “Stop!”. He managed to pick out some better olives, green ones, which we ate as we watched birds fly over Ithaka. I laid by him as Helios traveled below the Earth and night came. Nights were quiet in the island, only the sound of the crashing waves and the leaves of olive trees being rustled by the wind could be heard, perhaps the sound of a boar if you were unlucky.

“I taught Herakles how to wrestle, you know?” he laughed as he lifted me above his shoulders, “You’re lying!” I shouted with doubt as I laughed along. He stopped for a second, an almost imperceptible second, “I lie to everyone else, young man”, his face turned serious, “but not you. You’re too clever for that”. It was the first time he’d spoken to me without the hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Do not forget this, Odysseus. You are more clever than you know”. I did not understand him then –most of his words fell on attentive, but deaf ears— he spoke to me as though I were an older man, after all. A man such as he, bearded and full of experience. But I was not an old man like him, I was young, spry, and endlessly energetic. Though his words stuck with me even more than the scar that marks my thigh, and I would understand his counsel. 

As we reached the castle, and he ignited my imagination with tales of monsters and gods — how lord Hermes stole the cattle of great Apollo, or how Perseus slayed the terrifying Medusa — until I fell unconscious on his lap and Eurycleia lifted me to my bedchambers.

“He loves you more than anything else in Ithaka,” she said as she tucked me into bed, “You were named by him you know, not your father”. I had heard the story before, my father and Eurycleia had brought the young boy, the heir to the throne of Ithaka, to the lap of his grandfather. He looked at the boy with joy, his young, gray eyes reminding him of adventures of his past. Eurycleia recommended the name Polyaretos, “most wished”, she said with tears in her eyes, “we have prayed much for this young boy”. My father seemed pleased, though my grandfather disagreed. “Odysseus” he told him, “hated one, that shall be his name”. He did not laugh, Eurycleia maintains that she could see tears welling up in his eyes. My father was opposed to marking the next heir to the throne with such a bad omen, yet my grandfather persisted. “Give me this, young man” he said to King Laertes, “this boy will be far more than all of Ithaka, I will assure it”. He stood, holding the baby softly to his chest and walking towards the young king, “name him Odysseus”. 

No one is quite sure why I was called Odysseus, some don’t even believe it is of our native tongue. But it was important for my grandfather, regardless of what it meant for my future. I was important to him, perhaps he saw me as a second chance for the actions he regretted. “He was a haunted man” some would say, but they did not know the beaming, grinning Autolycus I knew. The old man who would run through the rocky hills of Ithaka with an infant on his shoulders who could not contain his excitement, or would involve his grandson in his many mischievous plans, to the delight of the young boy. He was a man who would do anything for his family.

I am older now, 22 years of age, expecting a young boy, Telemachos. I will do all I can to see him grow, to advise him and show him the beauty of our kingdom. I will be there for his first steps, for his first words, for the first time his beard begins to grow. He will be my pride, my joy, my world. I understand now, perhaps, why that young, gray-eyed boy meant so much to the old man.

-Odysseus, father of Telemachos

[shimmeringweeds]

This sequence was so beautiful. The twins have yet again torn a hole in my heart.

The knowledge that Li Tianxi's muteness is psychological, to start. There are four known causes of muteness. Three out of four involve brain damage, and with an abusive father, I could not discount that possibility. It is stated that Li Tianxi's mental growth is underdeveloped, but brain damage is not the reason she can't speak verbally--

The reveal tore at me, because it hits a little close to home.

It's a cliche, but it's also the truth. Kids deeply internalize the problems of their loved ones. They really blame themselves, however irrational it might be to the adult mind. If a problem could be solved-- if everyone would be happy if they simply shut up? Done deal. Not all people find power in their voices. Some only find pain.

Li Tianxi signs words she has been taught. Words she has been given permission to use. Words she knows will make other's happy. Words that won't hurt.

Li Tianchen's trauma runs deep too, but he internalizes it differently. He hears all the rumors spread about his family. He notices the lack of rumor surrounding Li Fan's abuse.

So when he picks up a call from a hospital for the mentally ill?

He's too young to understand. Liu Lan (I apologize for doubting you) does seem to realize that trauma is the root of her families' problem; she's seeking positive help for all of them. But Li Tianchen only knows rumors born of mean spirits. I'm willing to bet he's heard some nasty things regarding Li Tianxi and now the repulsion runs deep. Those mean things aren't his sister. He doesn't hold back. He fights.

He's doing the right thing. Li Fan is the bad guy. Everything will be okay once he's gone. He's doing the right thing. "We got rid of that jerk forever, right?"

So then why--

WHY...?

Why did it all go so wrong?

This isn't what he wanted.

-------------Why did things get even worse when I tried.--------------

Tianxi runs away impulsively from a horrifying situation, but all of her actions during this season have been aimed at keeping her brother. Like she want's him to follow her, away, towards something - anything-better.

Reaching out to a future, but tied down by the past in all directions.

They can't escape.

Its OK. I'm here.

Li Tianchen is her tie to the past. And she is his. In order to reach the future, they had to say goodbye.

Honesty, my mind cannot understand why Li Tianchen listens to Li Tianxi's demand that he run. A scared child, running away from regrets? Running away from a tragedy he knows he had a hand in causing? Or does he understand something deeper?

Li Tianxi is determined that this must happen.

And, so, this time he is the one who runs.

Li Tianxi may have found her way home, to a future. But Li Tianchen is still lost, running deeper, deeper, deeper into the forest......

And the light he finds, is yet another false hope.

"To turn all uncertainties, into certainties."

Is such a thing really possible?

[c1tr1sfl0w3rs]

Soft!dark!Ethan Landry x pastors!daughter!reader P2

18+ NSFW P1

Your father was a man of God. He taught you the bible and what was right and what was wrong. What happened between you and Ethan, went against everything he had ever taught you.

After it happened you were overwhelmed with guilt, you even took off your purity ring because you couldn't be a liar on top of a whore.

Ethan was a gentleman, which surprised you. The words of your father echoed in your head "Never give it up to a boy before marriage, because once they have what they want they'll leave you looking like a foolish whore." He wasn't like that, he went above and beyond for you, little gifts every day flowers, chocolates or coffee. Ethan reassured you, that what you did together was normal and there was nothing to be ashamed of. He even stayed when you found out you were pregnant. (Of course you didn't know this is what he had wanted.)

You were panicking, how were you going to tell your father? You couldn't get rid of the baby, and lord Ethan stood by you the whole time. He said he would support any choice you made but told you he wanted to keep it, and raise the baby together.

Both of you had made up your mind, you were keeping the baby, which means you had to tell your father. So you decided to soften the blow by calling your mother and arranging a dinner, you said it was so they could meet your boyfriend. The happy giggles from your mother lessened your anxiety, she would be more understanding than your dad, and she would calm him down, get him to forgive you when the time came.

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

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Ethan and your mother were getting along good, your father was in a better mood than you thought he would be. As the dinner was wrapping up Ethan volunteered to help your mom with the dishes giving you room to talk to your father.

"So daddy, what do you think of him?" Your voice came out stronger than you expected. "He seems like a good kid, I'm just not sure about him yet." The whole dinner you had been very careful about not drawing attention to your hands, so no one would notice your absent ring.

"Dad, I have to tell you something very important. Please promise me you won't be mad?" He looked at you curiously. "Honey I could never stay mad at you, you can tell me anything." Liar, you knew he was lying but you couldn't avoid telling him the truth any longer. "I'm pregnant, and it's Ethan's." You said so quietly you didn't think he heard you, however the way his whole body became tense told you he did.

He put a hand over his eyes, sprt of squeezing his temples. He did some sort of chuckle, your anxiety heightened. You could feel this was about to get ugly. "So that son of a bitch inside made a liar and whore outta my daughter?" He asked so calmly and your tears began to fall. "I'm sorry dad, but he loves me and said he'd stick by me no matter what, he's a good guy."

"So if any guy told you that you'd just spread your legs for them, you're dumber than I thought." The tears turned into sobs at that point. He stood up and made his way into the kitchen. You could hear your father yelling obscenities at Ethan, and Ethan trying to calm him down. Your mother also began to raise her voice telling your dad to back down. All you could do was cry though. What had you expected? This was the consequences of your actions. As the yelling got worse you couldn't take it anymore and went to go sit on the porch.

The warm air felt freeing. The setting sun comforting you, the chirping birds song distracting you from your thoughts and the shouts from inside.

It was a while before your mother beckoned you back inside where she took a seat at the dining table next to you father and across from Ethan. Who you say next to, the second you were sat he took your hand and ran his calming thumb over the back of your hand.

"Sweetheart, your father and I were talking about it and he compromised on a solution. We'll support you both through this if you get married." Your father wouldn't look you in the eye and you knew he would probably disown you if you said no. The problem was you didn't know if that's what Ethan wanted. The both of you were so young and you didn't kno-

Ethan's voice cut you out of your thoughts. "I want to, I'll do it if you want to baby." His attention now turned to you.

Those pesky tears came back and you fell into his arms. He held you so tight but not on a suffocating way, in a way that the ache in your heart lessened.

"We want to get married." Your voice finally spoke, it was shaky and scratchy from crying but it was there.

"Oh honey" your mom came over and hugged you tight. "It'll have to be a quick wedding, but this is so amazing, welcome to the family Ethan."

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

The wedding was indeed fast, before you started showing. It was simple but beautiful, your side of the family was surprised but supporting.

Your father had been practically silent since that dinner. At least towards you, but when he walked you down the aisle he gave you a quick hug before letting you go and you knew he had forgiven you.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Ethan's vows were breathtaking, they made you cry. You felt your vows were enough but nothing compared to his. You had your first kiss as wife and husband. Ethan was an aweful dancer, he almost made you fall multiple times. His warm hands over yours as you cut the cake together and fed it to eachother.

You were over the moon and after the wedding was over Ethan took you back to your shared apartment. As you both took off layers of your complex yet beautiful outfits he began to speak.

"Bunny you were so pretty today, had to hold myself back from bending you over and splitting you open on my cock in front of everyone." He came up behind you massaging your shoulders then he leaned real close to your ear "Do you want me to split you open? Make you cry and come until you're all dumb in the head?" His tone was so condescending but the way his breath tickled your cheek. You felt warmth spreading through you, the kind only he knows how to pull from you. "Please Ethan, please please plea-" He laughed, hands that were once massaging your shoulders now pulling down the straps of your gown. Letting it fall to the floor. "Begging already and I haven't even done anything, it's ok I know how desperate you get. Go wait on the bed for me wifey."

You say on the bed patiently waiting for your husband to come take care of you, like he always did. The hormones from the baby made you need him so much it almost hurt.

He finally came in. Only wearing his dress pants. He looked so good, his exposed upper half. His chocolate curls and that mischievous look in those puppy eyes.

"Look at you baby. God you're so pretty."

He walked towards you until he stood between your open legs. Ethan leaned down and you met his lips in a hungry kiss. His tongue lead yours and you moaned into his mouth.

He broke the kiss and gave you the most sinful smile. He fell to his knees, his head leaned against your pillow like thighs. He kissed up and down your legs. Sucking a mark right next to your core.

"Bunny you're so wet." He said as he pulled your panties to the side, your slit dripping for him. He licked a stripe up your folds and you let out a broken moan.

He started to suck on your clit as his fingers teased your opening. It felt so good, there was no way this could be a sin. The man has to be an angel.

His long thick fingers pushed into you and curled up, hitting that special spot. Your thighs tightened around his head as you moaned and moaned.

He ate you like a starved man, getting you closer to that edge. "Oh Ethan, I'm gonna-" You couldn't even say it. The wave of euphoria engulfed you. You clenched around him and he helped you ride it out, but he didn't stop after you came no he kept going at the same pace. He lapped at your clit and fucked you with his fingers. "It's too much, Ethan please." You tried to pull away but his hand on your hip kept you anchored. "I'm not done with you. You can take it." He said quickly then went back to devouring you. The second orgasm came embarrassingly quickly, and somewhat painfully. You were so overstimulated but he just kept going.

Your head was foggy, all you could do was moan. Ethan had been between your legs for what seemed like forever. You don't even know how many times you had come. "Etha- oh God please I can't" you said, voice scratchy as you tried to get away from his overwhelming touch. He didn't say anything, just sped up his efforts between your legs. You came again, except this time you squirted in his mouth. He made sure none of it went to waste, and finally he moved away from your sore pussy. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing ever, and to him you were. Legs shaking like a baby deer, tears down your face and a cute gushing pussy. You were his own paradise. He looked just as disheveled, your slick running down his chin, curls a mess from you tugging on them and his aching dick, bulging out of his dress pants.

He pulled his pants and boxers down, and held onto his aching cock. The tip flushed red leaking precum. Then he slid your sticky panties down your trembling legs. "Hope you didn't think I was done yet bunny. Need to feel your sweet pussy." You moaned at his words and knew you were gonna feel him for days after this.

He gave you no warning, he just pushed inside you, your previous orgasms making it easy. He let out a pathetic moan as he began to fuck you at a brutal pace. His hips pistoning into yours. His pubic bone hitting your sensitive clit and his balls slapping against your ass. You couldn't think or feel anything but him, not even noticing you were drooling all over your sheets. "Awh poor baby can't even take my cock without going dumb even though she was begging for it earlier." He felt you clenching on his dick and knew he wasn't gonna last with the way your pussy was sucking him in. He lifted your legs from around his waist and placed them on his shoulders. The new angle making you cry out. His brutal pace didn't stop as he circled your clit. You came hard and he fucked you through it, and finally he painted your inside with his cum. "You did so good for my bubby, I love you, now let's get you cleaned up." He said but as he saw his cum trickle out of you he pushed it back in with two fingers. "Gotta make sure my baby stays nice and full with my cum."

As he cleaned you with a wet rag he couldn't help but smile, his plan had went much better than he thought. You now had his last name, with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. He didn't think your parents would demand the two of you get married but it made keeping you so much easier. He was gonna make sure that after you gave birth to his first child that you were pregnant again. He was gonna keep you nice and filled with babies <3

AHSJSJSN Ethan brain rot, hope you enjoyed and let me know what you wanna see next.

Sunny out ✌️