#is a thorn in the side of a truly wonderful project

[thundergrace]

Today on, 'There's No Way to Make This Old Shit Worse Years Later, is There?':

[still-not-over-transformers]

Hellooo!! I was wondering if you could do a poly! Optimus Prime x Fem! Human! Reader x poly! Megatron where the reader has ADHD thankss♡♡

I hope I respectfully honored your request. And I hope you enjoyed my work. Since no continuity was specified, I'm making it open to individual interpretation :3

Under Pressure

Optimus x Megatron x Female Human Reader POLY

Word Count: 900

Warnings: None

It had been a rather stressful day for (Y/N). At work, your boss had unexpectedly sprung a group presentation project that he had assigned you to without consulting you. To make matters worse, there was a very tight timeline the project had to be completed by, on top of the other work projects you already had on your desk. It honestly felt like your boss wanted to watch you have a mental breakdown. After this bombshell, you spent the rest of your shift struggling to come up with any ideas for your portion of the project, and you felt a migraine creep up as you struggled to focus. After feeling burnt out mentally, you clocked out at the end of your long shift and couldn’t leave your workplace faster. 

As you stepped into the employee parking lot, a familiar semi-truck was waiting for you in the guest-parking section. You stepped onto the bar side step and climbed your way inside of the cab, quietly sitting in the passenger-side seat. After a few seconds of silence, Optimus spoke up “How was work today?” You paused a moment before responding hesitantly, “It… could’ve been a better shift.” Optimus was concerned by your response, but he could tell (Y/N) probably didn’t want to share details quite yet, so he wouldn’t press the issue for now. “I see. Would you like to listen to music on the drive home? You can choose whatever station you prefer,” his tone was gentle as he concealed his growing worry. You leaned towards the center console and tuned the radio to your favorite station, hoping the music would ease some of your stress, “Thanks, Optimus.” 

The rest of the drive was marked by silence as neither (Y/N) nor Optimus said a word. Eventually, Optimus would pull into a small and secluded base before coming to a stop. The passenger-side door opened, and as you began to climb down from the cab Optimus couldn’t help but speak. “(Y/N), if there’s anything ever on your mind, know I am always ready to lend an audio receptor,” he spoke softly, as if afraid he might scare you off. You paused for a moment before smiling quaintly, “Again, thank you Optimus but I’m okay, I promise you.” You stepped off of the cab and headed inside the base. Shortly afterwards, Optimus transformed out of his alt mode and slowly followed after you, being unable to shake the feeling you were ‘not’ actually okay. 

You made your way inside the base, you typed a code into the private quarters you shared with Optimus and Megatron. The doors opened for you, and you immediately went towards a large couch and collapsed on the thick cushions. As you attempt to calm your mind, a large servo gently presses on your shoulder. As you glance up you see none other than Megatron looking down upon you with a coy smile, “If it isn’t my stunning rose, beautiful as her thorns are sharp. How was your day?” Despite the pressure and stress you felt, Megatron’s cute pet names for you never ceased to make you blush. “Today was— it… honestly was terrible” you frowned, unable to fake how you truly felt. 

Hearing this, Megatron’s smile slowly faded and he knelt down before you, his gaze locked onto yours. “Did someone harm you? If so, they will surely pay for offending my rose…” His ruby optics narrowed and burned with anger. Not wanting any more stress, you quickly grasped his servo, “No, no— Please just… Don’t.” Megatron paused at your words and relaxed his frame, albeit confused. At this moment, Optimus made his way into your shared chambers, carrying a human-sized mug of tea in his servos on a tiny, human-sized tray and drawing Megatron’s attention. “I didn’t mean to bother you, (Y/N), but I could tell on our drive here that you were distressed, so I thought some tea might help,” he spoke softly as he handed the mug to (Y/N). 

You smiled up at Optimus as you took the mug of tea, wondering as to how he managed to prepare a human-sized portion of tea in a human-sized mug, “You’re too sweet… Both of you.” As you glanced at both Megatron and Optimus, they sat on either side of you on the massive Cybertronian-sized couch that had been custom-made. Megatron fluffed up a human-sized pillow you had purchased and laid it against your back before softly wrapping a servo around your right shoulder, “We are here to listen to you, (Y/N). And decimate your manager if you permit us to.” Optimus briefly shot dagger at Megatron, clearly disagreeing with any form of unnecessary violence as usual. “I’m certain Megatron means to state that both of us are here to support you and comfort you in whatever way you require. And that you should know you are the most valuable, talented, capable, and beautiful being in the entire universe.” Optimus wrapped his servo around your left shoulder and leaned closer to you, his signature soft smile across his faceplate as he gazed down at you. 

Despite the pressure and stress of the day, you could find some respite and comfort in the arms of lovers. And certainly, they would be more than willing to assist you in relieving your workplace endeavors….

- Thank You, I hope you enjoyed this fluff :3

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

ArShi OS: Raat Hamari Toh

Warning: Angst, Sex | Canon | 

Word Count: 1757 | 10-15 minutes read

Khushi shivered in the warm July night. No scar, bruise, fall nor fear hurt her the way Arnav’s silence did.

For a misunderstanding he had ruined her, for her mistake he did nothing.

She had endangered the lives of Anjali, Anjali’s unborn child and Arnav simply out of the selfish need to protect Payal’s marriage. Yes, she could finally admit that she had hoped Shyam to change for her conscience’s sake.

To justify her intentions that stood on wobbly grounds.

And as karma would be, Payal’s marriage was at the brink of irreparable damage and Arnav lost the faith of his sister solely because of Khushi’s silence.

Isn’t silence a friend to accomplice?

Khushi steeled herself for anger, pain - anything - that he’d lash out on her. Except she didn’t have the strength. Was it a blessing that he stood with his back to her that she couldn’t see hatred in his eyes? Or a curse that she couldn’t read him at all?

Arnav felt her before he heard her. For a long time he had questioned why Khushi couldn’t tell. And today he saw what happened when Khushi tried. The reality wasn’t ever about him believing the truth - it was Anjali. And that couldn’t happen, not the way Shyam gaslit everyone left, right and centre.

And he fell right into Shyam's trap, having his rage misdirected over to Khushi for months while Shyam figured ways to steal his assets.

Khushi,

A thorn lodged in his throat as he heard the tea tray shake in Khushi’s hands. There was so much fear in those young eyes.

She robbed his dreams, he robbed her life.

And he stood, humbled, teary, when she picked up the nearest stick and extended her shaky hand - ready for any punishment she deserved.

Oh no

Khushi closed her eyes when he took the stick, and gasped when she wasn’t met by the sting of the stick but the faintest brush of his lips on her hand.

“Arnav ji?” She whispered as he held her close,

“It’s not your fault Khushi, it never was.” He brushed a stray tear away from her cheek. Khushi froze, disbelieving his words.

Did he truly believe her.… after months?

Khushi burst into tears, embracing him with all the strength in the world; relief and endured pain finding a release.

He softly returned her hug, cradling her head as she cried harder, finding her Arnav return from her figment of imagination.

With aching tenderness he broke the hug to really look at her for the first time in months. 

Oh how had they even reached here? Why was life so cruel? Why had he been so blinded? And since when had she not slept?

She trembled, feet unsteady, sobs ricocheting - stabbing his heart with every sniffle.

The glass wall Khushi had erected to hide her feelings crumbled like fine dust. She was raw and vulnerable in his hands, desperately seeking comfort and safety.

The pain Arnav had seen behind her eyes was neither his imagination nor his projection. It was only a fraction of what she had been suffering, slipping out between layers of forced smiles and eccentricities.

Her hands refused to leave his shirt, tears refused to stop rolling down her cheeks.

It was time to go home, with his wife, as a husband.

He picked her up in his arms and she looped her hands around his neck, her tense body relaxing for the first time.

He kept looking at her, as if he couldn’t look enough, and walked over the threshold to their room.

Gently, he laid her on the bed. Hands shaking so his most precious could finally sleep. No more nightmares, no more storms. No more pain, nor more shock.

But before he could leave she tugged his hand - wanting him to be next to her.

The bed didn’t matter neither did the aching tenderness. All that mattered was him, next to her, still looking at her with eyes full of love.

It was the only balm she ever needed. Arnav’s knees gave away as he sat by her side, pushing away the stray strands of hair away from her forehead.

He wondered if he was comforting her or seeking comfort?

He watched her as she fell asleep on his hand, eyes still wet from unshed tears. After memorizing her face, he left her side, feet heavy as he moved away from the safety of her touch.

There were darker demons to face.

But he never made it to the door.

Khushi rushed up to him and embraced him from behind,

“Please don’t leave me,” she begged, clasping onto his shirt. Arnav closed his eyes, relishing the warmth yet grieved that it was brought upon by pain.

Khushi tugged him to the bed, not quite sure how else to tell that she couldn’t sleep without him. She needed to know that when she opened her eyes he wasn’t a cruel dream. He was there, in flesh, on his side of the bed.

He sat with her, watching her intently caress his bruised knuckles. She pulled out the first aid box, hands trembling as he allowed her to care for him.

Arnav cursed himself, what was he without her care anyway?

He rolled up his sleeves, watching her tears dry and strength build as she tended to his injuries. Tenderly, he held her chin and planted the softest kiss on her forehead.

A kiss of gratitude, love and everything he couldn’t say.

Khushi sat rooted to her spot, eyes closed as she savoured the kiss. But one kiss wasn’t enough, not when she held on to it as if she wouldn’t be kissed again.

Khushi’s breath hitched as he kissed her, again, on her temples. This time he didn’t even step away from her, his lips hovered over her eyes, warm and soft.

Khushi balled her fists in anticipation, trying not to move to break the moment as he kissed her cheeks and the corner of her lips.

He trailed slow kisses down her neck and she wove her hands into his hair. His hands went to her dupatta but he hesitated.

“Khushi, I,” Khushi hugged him tight , refusing to break the moment.

“Please,” She whispered, waiting for what seemed interrupted forever. Nothing mattered apart from him.

Arnav broke the hug to look at her face. He waited for a moment before his lips covered hers in a searing kiss. Khushi gripped his arms, a burst of emotions flowing through her heart.

This was heaven.

Once Khushi reciprocated in equal fervour, Arnav lost his little sense of control. He tugged her dupatta away, kissing the crook of her neck as his fingers found her zipper.

Khushi caressed his neck, feeling alive for the first time in months. Slowly, they sank into their bed, drowning in pleasure and comfort.

He held her like a china doll, she treasured every inch of his skin. Like a prayer she whispered his name, ensuring this wasn’t another one of her dreams.

He was warm, loving and so tender. She didn’t know if she could ever put it in words. It was really not about touch.

The desire that burned her for months finally found its release. When he pressed his forehead to hers, hands locked, bodies close - Khushi sighed in relief.

This is how they were meant to be.

— — —

When Khushi woke up, she found Arnav laying next to her, gently caressing her cheek.

The sun shone on his skin like gold. Loose strands of hair fell on his forehead. A soft smile was on his face.

Khushi smiled, it was the most beautiful dream she ever had.

“Hi,” he whispered. He bit back a laugh as her eyes grew comically wide. Should he have worn a shirt?

“You’re here.” She touched his face.

“Yeah, last I checked I was Arnav Singh Raizada.” Arnav grinned. Khushi felt his dimple under her fingertips. Arnav was here. In flesh. Warm beside her body. Close enough to block the sun rays from the window.

“Arnav ji, you’re really here.” Arnav’s smile fell as Khushi teared up. Arnav pulled her into a hug, feeling her shaking as she tried to control her sobs.

“Shh, I’m here.” Khushi nodded against his chest at his reassurance. They lay quiet for a long time. He stroked through her hair, she heard his heartbeat.

“Tum theek ho?” Arnav asked, breaking the silence. Khushi tightened the embrace, humming in response.

Arnav tilted her face a bit, “I mean.. after last night..”

Khushi blushed hard, unable to meet his eyes.

“Wow, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada ko sharmaana bhi aata hai?” Arnav teased her as a shy smile played on her lips. He laughed when she hid her face in her hands and tried to fix the sheets for some delayed decency. Oh Khushi! Moments like these reminded Arnav how endearing Khushi was.

He was a fool to even try to walk a step away from her when he’d been falling head over heels since forever.

“But really,” he asked, a minute after the laughter died down, “Are you ok? I know we haven’t discussed-”

“I’m fine Arnav ji,” Khushi cut him off, “In fact I’m happy. Happiest that I’ve been in months.” Khushi confessed, tears of joy prickling her eyes.

Arnav brushed a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. Arnav had never believed in luck when it came to his fame. Nor when it came to his money.

Yet today as he watched the sunrise when he was convinced a day ago he wouldn’t, and saw the woman before him open her heart despite everything, he was probably the luckiest man alive.

Khushi closed her eyes and snuggled into his embrace, finally finding sleep after months of nightmares. The darkness that loomed in her life, that pricked her, frightened her, hurt her had finally ebbed away.

There were so many more conversations to have, so many tears to shed. But Arnav was back. The one who’d hold all her tears in his arms and spend nights listening to her.

After many days, Khushi found her home.

——————

Tum theek ho - are you ok?

Wow, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada ko sharmaana bhi aata hai - Wow, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada can even be shy?

undefined

A/N: Thank you guys for reading this. I hope you give the song a chance if you listen to Hindi music! This song is truly so beautiful and dipped in angst, along with this scene, that I couldn’t help but write it down! I’ve always imagined this since forever and decided to finally pen it! Sorry for any grammatical mistakes - I haven’t proofread it much!

Love,

- JWB 

Tagging: @laadgovernorandsankadevi @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @aye-masakalii (love a farzi fan) @muttonthings @goals1024 @maansiloves @rae-blogging @honeybellexox​ @sapnokiduniyaisalwaysbetter​ @lostafpanda​ @bengudill​ and if anyone else would like to be in the tag list please let me know, I’ll tag you in my GIF and writing posts!

[ahedderick]

Rain showers

I had a lovely ride with Hero this morning; we fit it in right between two rain showers. Had to use the saddle, because our bareback pad is at college with my daughter (wah!) and it was too challenging a ride for true bareback to be comfortable for either of us. We rode up a trail that I had just meticulously done maintenance on, then d-o-w-n a trail that needs some work. He was miffed that he had to step over a down tree at one point, and I almost didn't make it under two overhanging branches! The saddle felt uncomfortable for both of us (as far as I can tell, he's pretty low-key) and I'm considering just getting a second bareback pad. I'm delighted that my daughter has a friend to ride with at school, but I'm not sure I can live without one.

There is a network of old logging roads, older logging roads, and even older fragments of horse-logging roads from several timber harvests in the 20th century. There is one little offshoot that I have actually never walked down (thorns. Lots of them), but I'm wondering if I took the saw and the pruning shear up there someday, if I might not find a nice little side trail that would get me around a steep spot I don't like very much. Perhaps I will vanish into the woods next week and see how doable that project would be.

At any rate, we got back to the barn j-u-s-t as the rain started up again, so that felt like good luck.

I then put down a colored 'primer' coat of paint for a really nifty new painting

(Here will be a Mage! and a dragon! Maybe! If I can do what I hope I can with the reference photo)

Then my luck for the day ran out. I spent the rest of the afternoon struggling with the concept of galvanic cells, and I have a troubling suspicion that my son's lab results are dramatically wrong. And if something got measure well-and-truly wrong, how is he supposed to do the follow-up assignment? Also spent some time down at Home Farm with my husband, trying to (at least temporarily) fix a badly off-kilter cellar door. The whole frame, which is composed of chunky 8x8 inch timbers, was warped. We had to prop up the frame on a brick, adjust it very roughly with a pry bar, and then jam the door closed. It is now non-openable until the frame is fixed in a more OSHA-approved manner. That whole project was miserable.

I think I'll read quietly, now. I'm DONE.

(truly, a bareback pad is a comfy, utilitarian marvel, and I only wish I had known they existed YEARS ago)

[kawaiidoodles95-blog]

Welcome To Suffer University!

Content warning: Fluff, angst, a bit of blood, murder, death, some violence, bullying, mentions of being experimented on, some of the characters are OOC to fit the tone or OC’s, depression, slight inappropriate humor, LOTS of fruitiness. I haven’t also got this edited! This story is 12+. You need to get permission from someone to read this if you are a year younger.

Author’s Note: This is a massive passion project. This is a strange take on the classic College/School AU. The story is a crossover of Stranger Things, Stampy’s Lovely World, The Amazing Digital Circus, Wonka, and Hazbin Hotel. This will have lots of chapters that I will try to upload regularly; it’s a long story. As a important side note, whoever is narrating the chapter will be the name of said chapter.

Chapter 1: Henry.

I am terrible when it comes to being in the dark, it’s always a struggle trying to adjust my eyes. The palms of my hands were bleeding from how many thorns I had to move away to actually get somewhere. You see, I was escaping the lab I’ve been held captive in for 6 years. However, I accidentally chose the worst night to do this: a cloudy night sky. It was practically midnight, and I was getting so tired.

“Must… press on…” I thought. “They will catch me otherwise.” 

Desperately trying to find some source of civilization, I got so distracted I tripped on a root and fell off a cliff. I shrieked as I tumbled down the steep 90-degree drop. Despite this fall, I actually landed quite softly in a clearing. 

“Wh-where- oh!” I said. Through the trees, I saw a giant building that looked like my dream college. Though, I would’ve ran to it if I hadn’t passed out from how tired and hurt I was. My passing out didn’t last long, I assume, because I heard something in the dark of the night.

“Are you ok, sir?”

I opened my eyes, and saw 3 people standing in front of me. In the center was a thin boy with curly milk-chocolate colored locks, and light brown eyes. He had brown pants and a (somehow) tyrian purple shirt with a lighter colored bow. To his left was a girl with long brown hair, a darker shade then the boy’s, and alternating red & blue eyes. She had a light purple shirt with puffy sleeves. She also had puffy red and blue pants, probably to match her eyes. On the boy’s right was a humanoid cat. He had green eyes and orange & white fur. He was the shortest of the two.

“Cut to the chase, who are you, blonde,” The girl asked. “Uhm, er, Henry. Henry Creel,” I nervously smiled. “Nice to meet you! I’m Willy, on my left is Pomni, and on my right is Stampy,” The boy grinned. Stampy had this endlessly petrified stare, like he’s seen a ghost. Or was I the ghost? I didn’t know. Before I could say, Willy grabbed my hand and pulled me onto my feet. “Poor thing, your clothes are all messed up!” Willy frowned. “Come on, I will lead you to the campus. “Oh boy, what am I doing?” I wondered.

-*-

I shared a room with Willy. He was very kind to me, always giving me fresh food and clothes. He even told me some stories of his, like how he made a small candy business. He, truth be told, was the first person who really truly cared about me. He was my best friend. Pomni was really into technology and taught me a lot about how machines work. “What do you mean you have never seen the inside of a computer?” I recall her saying, “I’ll show you.” On the other hand, Stampy seemed distant from me. He, for some reason, feared me. I assumed he would eventually warm up to me. He’d have to if I was possibly staying here. But I know that won’t happen.

[valiantvillain]

Behold, 21 pages of Baldur's Gate 3 smut featuring Wyll Ravengard and the lovely Beitris Goldgrace.

Let’s start our happily ever after already. 

Beitris had had her fair share of lovers over the forty odd years of her existence. Most had been decent enough. A few had been nothing short of painfully awkward. Some she might have even considered as partners were it not for the fact that she had always approached them with an ulterior motive, then let them think taking matters to the bedroom had been their idea. Many had been nothing more than just another in a long line of dalliances sought in a streak of rebellion following her escape from an arranged marriage. There had been a manic righteousness to that time in her life, a strange sort of purity in “defiling” herself before any aged unwanted groom could so much as touch her. Faces whose names she barely remembered, and even more who had fallen victim to the wine or a sleep spell (when she had been feeling the slightest bit reticent) before so much as a glove fell to the floor. None of them Beitris had ever entertained the idea of loving. None of them had been Wyll Ravengard. 

Sweet, pure-hearted Wyll who had knelt before her, presented an acorn reciting tales of wishing magic, and asked her to marry him with the highest of all hopes shining bright as the stars themselves in his eyes. A lifetime of dreams and promises held in a single moment, waiting with baited breath for a single word to fall from her lips and make them real. One answer to bring a million fairytales to life. 

She used to have nightmares about this exact moment. With rings that bit into her fingers like thorns and attendants herding her off into a gilded cage as she swam through a sea of veils and lace in a fruitless attempt at escape. Years spent hearing the sound of jangling chains and breathing deep to slow a racing heart at every mention of marriage. Passing by weddings pricked by pity for the bride and wondering if the union was truly by choice. Her entire life marriage had felt more a trap than treasure. A sentiment she had held close to her heart not so long ago even. 

But that was before she had met a man who breathed poetry like air and whose every word was steeped in sincerity. Who believed in the old tales sung by the bards of noble love and favored courtship over a quick consummation. Who could turn the most chaste kiss into a dance and looked at her as if she put the stars in the sky while making no mention of how she had polymorphed herself into a cat just hours before. A man whose embrace made her feel safe and not smothered, with promises of adventures to come on his tongue. A man who had changed quite possibly everything about what Beitris had thought she once wanted.

It was not a cage that stood before her, but a great winding path with no end in sight. Only boundless possibilities and future tales to tell. A lifetime of freedom to spend with another ever at her side, loyal and laughing. The brightest spark amid so much darkness. 

And so, with her cheeks filled with roses and her heart with joy, Beitris said yes. Yes to all that was to come their way. Yes to everything they were and would be. Yes to the forging of the legend of Wyll Ravengard and Beitris Goldgrace, the Blade of Frontiers and the (somewhat reformed, if such was even the right word) Swindler of the Sword Coast. And perhaps yes to a life of somewhat complicated relations with in-laws…mainly hers. 

The way he beamed at her would have put the sun itself to shame. Tender love and unrestrained happiness held in a grin so wide, so relieved and joyous, it was a wonder it did not break the bounds of his face.

[disworl]

Homestuck Music You Might Not Have Heard

[NOTE: Tumblr's formatting is really finicky so doing dual updates to this thing is not worth my time. If you want the most recent list, find it on Ao3.]

Yes, “MeGaLoVania” and “Time On My Side” are damn good songs, but a music catalogue this large is certain to have several diamonds in the rough. Here’s a selection of likewise lovely Homestuck music that you might not have heard.

V 1.0, updated 2022.10.10

I wrote this as an appreciation for all the wonderful music this comic has, and to give spotlight to the works that aren’t as well-known as “Black” and the like. Homestuck is a truly unique piece of media, and the soundtrack is one of the reasons why.

Great thanks to the HSMusic Wiki, which is what I used to check a track’s artist and contributor credits, whether it had been used in a flash, and what, if any other tracks it referenced. In my write-ups, I try to be as accurate as possible, but I’ve no music education aside from half-remembered childhood violin lessons. Apologies if I make a mistake.

I’m slowly working through the catalogue, so when I listen to more albums I’ll update this.

Full Playlist

Some Vague Guidelines

Official music only on Disc I Side A, with good semi-official unreleased tracks from the Homestuck Sound Test and some fan music on Disc I Side B. Disc II is the same, except in a bulleted list of every track covered, who it’s by, and what album it’s from, for the sake of readability.

The official music section is split into three categories: Deep Cuts From Popular Albums (popular being somewhat arbitrarily defined as Vol. 5, Strife!, Alterniabound, and both coloUrs and mayhem), Lesser-Known Takes on Something Else (for tracks that are well, primarily an interpretation of a pre-existing track, usually something more popular like “Doctor”), and Cool and New Music is for original compositions (though they may have minor references to other music).

Tracks are organized by chronological album release date pre-merger and the Vol. 1-4 re-release, and then by track order within the same album.

Nothing readily available from a Flash (so phonograph tracks and something like “Pony Chorale” are fine) is allowed.

Neither is anything with 1 million views or more (based on the most popular video at time of writing) on Youtube for Deep Cuts, and then for Lesser-Known Takes that threshold is halved, and again for Cool and New Music.

Themes from Alterniabound and the two ColoUrs and Mayhem albums ("Vriska’s Theme", "Green Ghost", "Rust Servant", et cetera) will not be included regardless of popularity because their obvious theming gives them an obvious profile for any fan of what character they’re for.

I will not be covering any albums released after Homestuck Vol. 10.

I want to keep featuring Toby Fox to a minimum – he’s a wonderful musician, but he is also by far the most well known member of the music and tends to overshadow everyone else by a wide margin.

Disc I - Side A

Side A Playlist.

Deep Cuts From Popular Albums

Deep Cuts Playlist.

“Light” by Erik “Jit” Scheele off of Homestuck Vol. 5 is a sort of comfortably adventurous composition that uses 413 as a chord progression. The piano melody that that leads off the track combined with the wind instrumentation gives the feeling of just a wonderful day, helped by the fan art for it in the Vol. 5 track art anthology fan project.

Also off of Vol. 5 , “Softly” by Robert J! Lake is a sweet toned electronic tune driven by a fuzzy, bouncing melody – though the beat gives it just a bit of an edge.

“Atomic Bonsai”, from hard-going solo album Strife! By Joren “Tensei” de Bruin, is the only kid strife track to not get used in some sort of official Homestuck-related thing (“Time on My Side” is a flash track, “Heir of Conditioning” was rearranged into flash track “Heir of Grief” in addition to being a phonograph tune in [S] Kanaya: Return to the Core, and “Dance of Thorns” was used in the Kickstarter video), and that’s a shame. It brings as much energy as the other three, and the combination of bass guitar and East Asian musical influence gives an equally unique sound with hook after hook.

Compared to the effervescence of Nepeta’s preceding music, “Catapult Capuchin” by Toby “Radiation” Fox off of AlterniaBound is nothing but the fierce hunter’s prowess on display in Video Game music fashion, as it was constructed from Mega Man X samples. It’s a high powerful ride throughout, but my favourite part is the bit at 00:33.

“Clockstopper” by viaSatellite and infiniteKnife off of coloUrs and mayhem: Universe B arguably counts for the first category, too, but I’m putting here because it’s specifically a symphonic rock mix of Beatdown, Atomyk Ebonpyre, and Upward Movement. The tension-building intro launching into the full force action of the flying strings always gets my blood pumping. My favourite take on Beatdown so far.

Lesser-Known Takes on Something Else

Lesser-Known Takes Playlist.

Humorous and infectious, “Pony Chorale” by Michael Guy Bowman with Tavia Morra off of Homestuck Vol. 4 is – well, it’s certainly a song! A mournful Western whistle on “Chorale for Jaspers” set to the beat of cartoonish hoof noises, punctuated by cymbals, all wrapped up with one simple word: neigh. And if you want some visuals for your viewing pleasure, there are two (probably not so) secret Flash pages for this song.

“Squidissension” by Mark Hadley, off of Homestuck Vol. 6 does an admirable and unique spin on the difficult job of combining the hyper-pop sugar-overdosed “Squiddles!” theme and the slightly ominous guardianstrife theme for Jade, “Dissension”. Serving as the main running melody, when shifted into minor key and given “Dissension” as a complement, “Squiddles!” becomes frantic instead of desperate, while “Dissension” is given that extra jump in momentum to keep pace, making for a track that’s something different, more adventurous, and more dire than either of its progenitors.

While it’s close to blowing the 500k Youtube requirement, “Anbroids 2.0” by Malcom Brown off of Homestuck Vol. 9 is still in the clear, so I’m putting it here as an early favourite of mine. With a very synthetic Strider sound, the track’s got a nice bouncy melody that serves as a fuller-realized version of the original “Anbroids” in the flash. Perfect for a rap-off.

“I’m a Member of the Midnight Crew (Post-Punk Version)”, by Michael Guy Bowman with Erik “Jit” Scheele and Marcy Nabors, from Homestuck Vol. 9, is a seedier, sharper, and stabbier take on the Victorian original and the acapella cover featured in the comic proper. The vocals just kill.

“II – Sarabande” by Clark “Plazmataz” Powell for her solo album Symphony Impossible to Play , is, unsurprisingly, a symphonic cover of “Sarabande” by Erik “Jit” Scheele. What might be surprising, however, is how much restraint is employed in it – the difference from the original is subtle, bearing a slowly rising string backing before the cello solo of the main melody kicks in around the minute mark.

Where “Homestuck Anthem” has a weird, portentous and artificial atmosphere, “Homestuck” a more present and traditional rendition, “Elevatorstuck” a dedicated – and listenable! – parody of muzak, and “Homosuck Anthem” a… copious amount of animal sound effects, “IV – Anthem”, also off of Symphony Impossible to Play brings a triumphant fanfare to the thematic melody for the comic. It is powerful and keeps the tension in the original throughout, driven by the backing – my favourite part is when the brass first cuts and you’re just left to bask only in the beat and the strings. “I – Overture” might have been the track to finish the comic, but I can’t think of a better track to end the album.

While the popularity of “Penumbra Phantasm” is debatable given that it’s never been released in full, “FantasyP”, by Erik “Jit” Scheele off of his solo album One Year Older, is a wonderfully hopeful and free take on “Penumbra Phantasm”, instead of referencing it as part of a larger composition. If you don’t know what “Penumbra Phantasm” is, prepare for roughly four minutes of “hey, that sounds familiar” while listening to just a really nice song – though, notably, it omits that one haunting piano riff from the original that serves as a code for a great many of the flashes. (One Year Older is available for free on Scheele’s bandcamp.)

“Another Chance”, a bonus track from One Year Older but done by Eston “silence” Schweickart”, is a synth remix of “Walk-Stab-Walk (R&E)” that gives the already good track some serious extra juice.

Starting off as a far-off sounding piano rendition of “Ruins” before crackling into a mechanized-backing of “Flare”, then bringing in clear, present electric guitar at 2:00 and finally adding in “Explore”, “Solar Voyage” by Marcy Nabors (with several others, check Disc II for full credits) off of Homestuck Vol. 10 definitely feels like a journey. The twists and progression on these recognizable musical staples are a sound to behold.

“Conclude” by Seth “Beatfox” Peelle, also off the same album, is the closer to the final volume of Homestuck music, and it lives up to the challenge. Beginning with a flying rendition of Sburban Jungle that turns the frenetic rush of the original into a hopeful retrospective, before switching to a bittersweet refrain of “Showtime”, the song then dives into original territory with a fanfare at 4:13, backed by “Skies of Skaia”, before closing with a soaring rendition of “Homestuck”, free and full of light in comparison to the pounding might of “IV – Anthem”. It’s a wonderful encapsulation of the complicated feelings flowing into one another that come with the end of a comic that means so much. My favourite bit is the far-off echoed “Showtime” at 1:19 – looking at the early morning of that April 13th, 2009. It did turn out to be a very long day, after all.

Cool And New Music

Cool and New Music Playlist.

“Squiddle Samba” by Michael Guy Bowman off of the album Squiddles! (no longer for sale, do with that information what you will), a thematic concept theme giving a whole extensive soundtrack to a fictitious children’s television show, is an energetic and bubbly jam that does not take the concept so far that an excess of irony is needed to enjoy it (though, the sugarily crystalline Squiddle voices appear for a scant fifteen seconds near the end, if that’s what you’re for).

Also off the same album, “Ocean Stars” by Mark Hadley is a calming, sweet and savoury treat to top off the excess of sugar cubes (and occasion tentacles) put on your musical plate. The layered build-up of the various elements is simple, befitting a children’s show, but done oh-so-well in a way that gives it meat.

“The Lemonsnout Turnabout” by Toby Fox for his solo album Alternia is a narrative piece wherein a young Trollian girl has an intrumental motif established (Neo-baroque harpsichord), and sets to take in a certain neon yellow draconian senator (represented by an oboe) for adjustments. In contrast to “Terezi’s Theme” and its more faster action, there’s a certain cerebral, well-plotted atmosphere to “The Lemonsnout Turnabout”. You can see the wind-up of the machinery fueling Terezi’s long noose in nailing Lemonsnout, echoed by the fearful groan of that oboe and the sharp jabs of the harpsichord in turn.

Also from Alternia, “dESPERADO ROCKET CHAIRS,” establishes Tavros with a Latin theme the way “The Lemonsnout Turnabout” establishes Terezi with the harpischord. It begins a short intro, before the horns really come in blaring – a far shot from the dying string reference of “Rex Duodecim Angelus”. Tavros is a dork, but he’s got fire behind him, and “dSPERADO ROCKET CHAIRS,” does a good job of showing that.

“Shade” by Clark “Plazmataz” Powell off of her solo album Medium, themed around the kid’s lands. A mixture of synthetic and often industrial noise combined with more organic instrumentation helps express the strangeness of these game worlds. In “Shade”, the shimmering melody that drives the track forward expresses the quiet and curious nature of the bioluminescence of LOWAS, before transitioning into a piano tune made for Typheus.

“Heat”, off the same album, takes a more hard-pressed approach, utilizing scissoring violin backdropped against industrial swirl to conjure up the swelter of churning lava in LOHAC. When the violin breaks free of that rhythm to climb, it only adds to the drama, and the song ends by sonically pulling away from the ebb and flow to leave the planet behind.

Starting off with thunder, “Exodus” by Tyler Dever for his solo album Sburb and performed by Erik “jit” Scheele, Exodus balances the apocalyptic severity of the meteors sent during the beginning hours of SBURB with skittering notes of the various players attempting to enter the medium. It closes out with a stark, last-second rendition of “Sburban Jungle” before quietly fading. (Sburb is available for free on Dever’s bandcamp.)

“Carapacian Dominion” by Seth “Beatfox” Peelle, opening the exile-themed album The Wanderers (also unavailable for purchase), sets the stage for the rest of the music by combining more unexplored, ethnic sound with a more Homestuck-typical industrial beat that’s perfect for the long trek along the desert of earth, years in the future (but not many).

In contrast to the forward-hiking rhythm of “Carapacian Dominion”, “Aimless Morning Gold” by Michael Guy Bowman off the same album is a track for staying in one place. Glittering synth (?) notes linger and warp in the heat, contrasted by the lazy ramble of the bass, all punctuated by a slight turn to Westerns with rattling machine gun shots.

And taking a strong turn from both of them, “Years in the Future” by Robert J! Lake, still off of the same album, is track following in Lake’s style of slightly eclectic, slightly choppy, but nevertheless catching and catchy electronic noise tunes. It takes a bit for the track to get going, but the combination of blips and bleeps that all call up the idea of electronic communication in the Can Town of the future makes for a wonderful swirl in the end.

“Derse Dreamers” might be one of the most famous songs in Homestuck, but that isn’t to say Prospit is lacking in terms of good music. “Center of Brilliance” by Solatrus for his solo album Prospit & Derse, themed around, well, you guess, begins with a shimmering chiming intro before bass and piano step in to bring a more full view of the center of the golden moon. The regal fanfare and drum setup ties things to Prospit’s formal atmosphere as a contrast to John and Jade’s instruments of choice. Something I like for all of the Prospit songs in the album is the bass guitar – it stands out as a driving instrument rather than just backing, and it’s true here, too. (Prospit & Derse is available for free on Solatrus’ bandcamp.)

“Song of Skaia” by Mark Hadley with Tarien Ainuvë, off of the same-titled album, is probably most recognizable as the bursting upswell chorus three minutes into “Creata”. Compared to that triumphant recital, however, “Song of Skaia” takes a more singular approach. It’s more minimalistic, and generally has the feeling of looking down from a thousand miles out in space.

“Cancerous Core” by Erik “Jit” Scheele gives a very short moment in the comic – the descent into Skaia – a full musical backing. The subtle brush of the air in combination with the restless roll of the piano in Locrian mode, accompanied by the ancient call of the wind instrumentation. It’s a track that definitely calls a strange and perhaps unsettling journey into some unseen world.

Alien and enchanting, “Voidlight” by Thomas Ferkol off of Homestuck Vol. 10 bears a flowing atmosphere that still contains a sense of drama. From commentary, it’s based on Calliope hiding in the Furthest Ring, which makes sense for the quiet not yet calm nature. The strings in the intro help convey the quiet, secluded landscape, and all around it’s a wonderfully ethereal piece.

“Feel (Alive)” by Luke Benjamins and Robert J! Lake from the same album, on the other hand, is a straight up chiptune rocker. It’s got raucous energy that absolutely earns its title.

Disc I - Side B

Side B Playlist (incomplete, not every track is on Youtube).

Homestuck Sound Test Gems

Sound Test Playlist (incomplete, not every Sound Test track is on Youtube).

“Cuttlefish Rag” by Alexander “Albatross Soup” Rosetti is a jaunty little ragtime tune originally written for Squiddles! , though you could also easily interpret it as a track for Feferi.

All memery aside, “Karkalicious (Guitarkind)” is a rockin’ guitar addition to a short excerpt of the Broadwaystuck classic. Yes, it’s hilarious. It also has some genuinely sick riffs. I daresay “Karkalicious” has never sounded so good.

“Mother (Davekind)” by Erik “Jit” Scheele is a take on “Mother” from One Year Older (can you tell I really like this album?) but in the style of Dave instead of John, trading out the slow, matured piano and strings for synths and turntables with a more energetic beat.

“Sea of Derse” got more instrumentation for the jazzy and relaxed “Breeze” in Homestuck Vol. 10, but in some ways I like the slightly more melancholic, stripped-down piano original.

“today i butchered a homestuck song (three in the A M)” by James “soselfimportant” Roach is a slightly weird, catching arrangement on “Three in the Morning”. In some way, it’s a precursor to what Roach did with “Karkat’s Theme”, “Terezi’s Theme”, and “Davesprite” for the Pesterquest soundtrack.

“Aggrieve (Piano) v2” by Toby Fox is… well, it’s a piano arrangement of “Aggrieve”, the second of three, and the best of them. I might be biased in terms of instrumentation, but what makes this track so good personally (and in fact, my favourite version of “Aggrieve”) is that it brings a level of energy that tends to be sublimated for a more measured and cerebral Lalondian pace – even in “Aggrievocation”. There’s a lot of great moments in this track, but my favourite bit’s around 1:42.

Fan Music Gems

Fan Music Playlist (incomplete, not every fan music track is on Youtube).

Found in the ~2011 Fan Music compilation of the Homestuck Archives, “Sunrise” by Yan “Nucleose” Rodriguez is a cheery guitar cover of the previously mentioned “Light”. It brings a sharper edge to the main melody, definitely befitting those first cracks of light over the horizon. I might like this more than the original. (Ironically, a later track by Scheele for One Year Older used the same title, and also referenced “Light”.)

“Sunshaker” by D. Crystal off of Land of Fans and Music is a very faithful jazz arrangement of “Sunsetter”. It’s mellower than both “Sunsetter” and “Sunslammer”, but still upbeat, all pinned together by that rolling piano.

Done by “Tarranon” for the concept album Sburb OST, “Amongst Smiling Faces [Prospitian Dignitaries]” is a theme for the agents of the Prospit. As its title might suggest, it takes a much more relaxed tone than Prospit & Derse’s regality, going downright pastoral with a sound not out of place for a first town in a JRPG.

“Waste of Space” by therosielord off of Songs for Monsters , is a lamentful fansong for Jade H arley on the occasion of her death in the Game Over timeline. The lyric s have some really clever moments underscoring Jade’s rise in agency, only to see that same agency fall by the wayside through death and grimbarkification. The ambling, almost slee py guitar backing only underscores the tragedy. (“Waste of Space” is the first of a quartet of songs for the Beta kids – the girls’ featured on Songs for Monsters , and the boys’ featured on Songs for Gods .)

The third in the Beta Kids quartet by therosielord and off of Songs for Gods, “Out of Time” is a fansong for, of course, Dave Strider. It’s a rambling, wordplay-laden tune that’s set to the relentless pace of Sburb on a single day in April, before scratching and resetting to a layered repetition of information and elements. The verse at 2:12 is my favourite of all of the Beta kid songs.

The twelve fansongs for the trolls might be PhemieC’s most famous contribution to Homestuck fandom, but the songs off of their other album, Songs for a Doomed Timeline aren’t slacking, either. “The Path” is one of their less well-known works – a fansong for Alpha Dave and Rose. Prognostic and methodical, it’s sung with the unclouded and heavy knowledge of the events to come, and the lyricism is sharp at every corner.

Yeah, I’m waiving the no character themes rule for Fan Music, because Fan Music is already niche enough. “♐Broken Strings♐” by psithurist off of Ancestral , an album dedicated to the ancestors, is an off-beat math rock styled string track for E%ecutor Darkleer. The odd rhythm and combination of strings and percussion is perfect for the loyal agent of the empire turnt exile.

“Of Rust and Royalty” by Grace Medley and off of the same album is a thudding nu disco take on the fight between the Handmaid and the Condesce, splicing up various elements of Rust Servant/Rust Apocalypse, Fuchsia Ruler, and Eternity Served Cold in a way that sells the power of the two (three?) individuals involved.

“The End of Something Really Excellent” by Rhyselinn off of Lands of Fans and Music 4 is, itself, a r eally e xcellent medley of “ The Beginning of Something Really Excellent” and a lot of narrative Homestuck hits. The tone is mostly relieved and a little nostalgic, like finally being able to catch a real breath after two very long days and three years of a suspense-building in-between – a nice contrast to the more triumphant and energetic musical recaps in Homestuck. The commentary has both and outline of how the song follows the plot of Homestuck and timestamps for each song referenced.

“Calming Quartz” by PoisonedElite is the opener for Xenoplanetarium, an album in a similar vein as Medium, only for the trolls’ planets instead. Whereas Medium touches on the at least tangential familiarity that comes with the kids’ planets by utilizing industrial sounds with organic instruments, Xenoplanetarium at its best gives an odd and isolated soundtrack to its subjects, and “Calming Quartz” is exemplary in that. The bounding piano reflects the glacial nature of the quartz in LOQAM, backdropped by music box melody fitting with the cardinal movement. That melody’s isolation and eventual fade into mechanized hum at the end might be my favourite part of the song.

Continuing in the steed of “Calming Quartz”, “Sandy Skyline” by Aris Martinian from the same album brings the ever-stretching dunes of LOSAZ with some notes in the breeze and strong low stringwork, set to a clicking rhythm. The echo processing effect is noticeable but not too excessive, all making for a track perfect for that orange expanse.

Disc II - Side A

Side A Playlist.

Deep Cuts From Popular Albums

Deep Cuts Playlist.

“Light” – Erik “Jit” Scheele (Homestuck Vol. 5)

“Softly” – Robert J! Lake (Homestuck Vol. 5)

“Atomic Bonsai” – Joren “Tensei” de Bruin (Strife!)

“Catapult Capuchin” – Toby “Radiation” Fox (Alterniabound)

“Clockstopper” – viaSatellite, infiniteKnife (coloUrs and mayhem: Universe B)

Lesser-Known Takes on Something Else

Lesser-Known Takes Playlist.

“Pony Chorale” – Michael Guy Bowman with Tavia Morra (Homestuck Vol. 4)

“Squidissension” – Mark Hadley (Homestuck Vol. 6)

“Anbroids 2.0” – Malcom Brown (Homestuck Vol. 9)

“I’m a Member of the Midnight Crew (Post-Punk Version)” – Michael Guy Bowman with Erik “Jit” Scheele” and Marcy Nabors (Homestuck Vol. 9)

“II – Sarabande” – Clark “Plazmataz” Powell (Symphony Impossible to Play)

“IV – Anthem” – Clark “Plazmataz” Powell (Symphony Impossible to Play)

“FantasyP” – Erik “Jit” Scheele” (One Year Older)

“Another Chance” – Eston “silence” Schweickart (One Year Older)

“Solar Voyage” – Marcy Nabors with Michael Guy Bowman, Clark “Plazmataz” Powell, Erik “Jit” Scheele”, Joren “Tensei” de Bruin”, Paul Henderson, and Jamie Page Stanley (Homestuck Vol. 10)

“Conclude” Seth “Beatfox” Peele (Homestuck Vol. 10)

Cool and New Music

Cool and New Music Playlist.

“Squiddle Samba” – Michael Guy Bowman (Squiddles!)

“Ocean Stars” – Mark Hadley (Squiddles!)

“The Lemonsnout Turnabout” – Toby Fox (Alternia)

“Desperado Rocket Chairs” – Toby Fox (Alternia)

“Shade” – Clark “Plazmataz” Powell (Medium)

“Heat” – Clark “Plazmataz” Powell (Medium)

“Exodus” – Tyler Dever and Erik “Jit” Scheele” (Sburb)

“Carapacian Dominion” – Seth “Beatfox” Peele (The Wanderers)

“Aimless Morning Gold” – Michael Guy Bowman (The Wanderers)

“Years In The Future” – Robert J! Lake (The Wanderers)

“Center of Brilliance” – Solatrus (Prospit & Derse)

“Song of Skaia” – Mark Hadley with Tarien Ainuvë (Song of Skaia)

“Cancerous Core” – Erik “Jit” Scheele (One Year Older)

“Voidlight” – Thomas Ferkol (Homestuck Vol. 10)

“Feel (Alive)” – Luke Benjamins and Robert J! Lake (Homestuck Vol. 10)

Disc II - Side B

Side B Playlist (incomplete, not every track is on Youtube).

Homestuck Sound Test Gems

Sound Test Playlist (incomplete, not every Sound Test track is on Youtube).

Cuttlefish Rag – Alexander “Albatross Soup” Rosetti

“Karkalicious (Guitarkind)” – Joren “Tensei” de Bruin

“Mother (Davekind)” – Erik “Jit” Scheele

“Sea of Derse” – Erik “Jit” Scheele

“today I butchered a song (3 in the A M)” – James “soselfimportant” Roach

“Aggrieve (Piano) v2” – Toby “Radiation” Fox

Fan Music Gems

Fan Music Playlist (incomplete, not every fan music track is on Youtube).

“Sunrise” – Yan “Nucleose” Rodriguez

“Sunshaker” – D.Crystal (Land of Fans and Music)

“Amongst Smiling Faces [Prospitian Dignitaries]” – Tarranon (Sburb OST)

“Waste of Space” – the rosielord (Songs for Monsters)

“Out of Time” – therosielord (Songs for Gods)

“The Path” – PhemieC (Songs for a Doomed Timeline)

“♐Broken Strings♐” – psithurist (Ancestral)

“Of Rust and Royalty” – Grace Medley (Ancestral)

“The End of Something Really Excellent” – Rhyselinn (Land of Fans and Music 4)

“Calming Quartz” – PoisonedElite (Xenoplanetarium)

“Sandy Skyline” – Aris Martinian (Xenoplanetarium)

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Sleeping Arrangements

Thorns and Jasmine

In which Caldyn understands something fundamentally wrong.

Warnings: Panic attack, low self-worth

This should give me five in a row in my second BTHB, and will be the last one of this card I fill. Going forward, my writing will not (longer? apparently most never did) fit the style of this event, so that’s it for me.

This one is set a while after he’s settled in the valley, and has already met Seyonna. I wasn’t sure if I should be posting it, but then I realized most of the people still following this story are also the ones who read the novel, so... like any other fandom, right? Right.

Masterlist

Caldyn sat in the entrance of the cave and listened to the rain. It was a heavy rain, pattering on the leaves, splashing on the ground, drowning out every other sound, but it was no storm. There was no wind, driving the drops against the cliff side or away from it, no thunder in the distance. Just water, so much water, falling from the sky since before dawn.

There had been a time he would have disliked a day such as this. When he had needed to go out each day to find food and water, when he had wanted to go out each day to find distraction, rain such as this would have made him pause. Would perhaps have made him wait, too, hoping that it would pass rather than become worse. Hoping it would not hinder him more at a later time, when he had no choice but to venture out. It wasn’t so much that he disliked the water, not like Seyonna; even now, he occasionally lifted a leg, to push his toes so far out, the drops coated his bark with moisture.

But he disliked the wet forest floor, making it so much easier to slip, to lose the grip on his staff. He disliked how everything felt different when wet, making it harder to find familiar marks and paths. And, while he didn’t mind the water per se, he disliked the cold that came with it. He tried not to think about it, how the only times he had ever felt truly cold had been the times he had been close to dying. It wasn’t quite the same, but on days when his thoughts already wandered along those dark paths, it could be enough to push him too far.

Those days had become rarer lately.

A quiet rustling noise behind him made him smile and pull his leg back, stretching it out in front of him as he turned toward the back of the cave.

Seyonna had made herself quite at home during those past weeks. She was always busy with something. Little odds and ends she had brought from the humans, half a dozen crafting projects and a lamp or two now filled his cave, made it feel more like a home than ever. Yet they were always in the same places; on the ‘table’ — a wooden board balanced on a rock formation, Caldyn had never found much use for — or in several boxes, bearing a sign for her name. She always took care to not let something lie around where he wouldn’t expect it, so he wouldn’t brush against it, or worse, stumble over it. On the rare occasions when she had to occupy a different spot, or move one of his belongings, she always made sure to tell him, perhaps even show him.

It felt so natural to have her at his side, in his life, Caldyn had almost managed to stop wondering about whether she would leave. Every time she spoke about a future, their future, here, he pushed those thoughts further back. Her talks about getting a second rug, building a shelf or growing a bridge all made it seem like she truly intended to stay.

It would have been easy to ask; three, four words were all that were needed. But the gnawing terror of what if she says no kept him from asking this question out loud once more, as he instead concentrated on the noise she made. It sounded a bit like sweeping the floor, but it was lacking the distinct noise of the broom she had brought from the humans.

“What are you doing there?” he asked idly, nothing but mild curiosity behind his words.

“Well, I’m tired of getting up almost each night to come over,” she said.

It didn’t matter that her words didn’t carry the annoyance he expected to hear, or that they didn’t make sense of the sounds he had listened to a moment before. They froze his core and made his stomach drop. Of course she was tired of his nightmares. Everyone would be.

If he only knew how to stop them, he’d do it in an instant.

He had tried his best not to wake her. Sometimes it was enough to know that she was there, to reach out to her warm energy. Other times he had to get closer, sit next to her for the rest of the night, not touching her, but knowing that he could. He always hoped she wouldn’t notice, tried to get up and find something to busy himself with before dawn. There was no way for him to tell if it worked.

But more often than not, she was already at his side when he awoke, and the feeling in his throat and his aching limbs told him that he must have screamed and lashed out. She always managed to calm him down eventually, talking to him about a million things he could never remember on the next day. Touching him so her strange, beautiful warmth could chase away the terror that held him captive. Sometimes he even managed to fall asleep again, something he had never dared when he was on his own. And every time he awoke after, she was still at his side, her warm hands buried in his leaves, her jasmine smell all around him.

Caldyn pulled his legs close, wrapping his arms around them in the hopeless attempt to ward off the cold creeping up on him from the inside. Perhaps, in the end, this would be why she’d leave. Not because she had to return to the Tiyatsin, not because she grew tired of this place, of a dark cave and a swamp full of the water she hated so much, but because of him.

He had toyed with the thought of coming with her, if she decided to go back. Of trying once more to live beneath the parent tree, closing himself off from the aether. He would miss the humans, and he would feel completely useless without his magic, unable to heal, to help. It was a price he might be willing to pay, to see his friends again, to stay at her side.

But if she left because of him, that wouldn’t really be an option, would it. Caldyn didn’t bother reaching for his head as it started to hurt, feeling the all too familiar burning pressure behind his eyes. Perhaps Gawyn had been right. He was too broken to ever be with someone again. How could he burden someone he loved with his fears and his nightmares and his pain?

“Caldyn? What’s wrong?”

Seyonna was suddenly next to him. He hadn’t heard her come closer. Even now, as he forced himself to lift his head, everything sounded muffled, drowned out by more than just the rain. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, that it was nothing, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Why couldn’t he speak, why couldn’t he at least smile, why couldn’t he… he couldn’t even breathe, he realized, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill his lungs.

A terrified noise escaped his lips, and he hated himself for it. She’d be worried. She was worried, he could feel it in the meaning, touching his mind, even when her words didn’t reach his ears. She shouldn’t worry. He wanted to feel the smile in her words and hear her laughter, not the concern and sadness that reached him every time she had to pick him up when he fell apart. She shouldn’t be sad. Not because of anything, but least of all because of him.

Her warm touch on his shoulder made him whimper quietly again. He wanted to pull away from it, to flee so she wouldn’t have to see him like this. He wanted to lean into it, to soak up her warmth. In the end, he did nothing, just sat there, trembling and frozen in terror he couldn’t put into words.

“It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe,” she said. The words felt familiar, as if she had spoken them over and over again. Perhaps she had, and it was just now that he understood them. He could feel her arms around him, warm on his freezing limbs, and smell a hint of jasmine, drowned out by his desperate gasps for air.

“Breathe with me,” she whispered, pulling him closer so his back was against her chest. He could feel it rise and fall. He could feel the fabric of her dress against his leaves and the touch of her fingers in his hair. “Breathe. It’s gonna be alright.”

It was easy to let the sound of her voice carry him, even if her words still barely reached him. Almost as easy, somehow, to follow her words, to breathe with her in the rhythm of her own breaths. They matched the pace of her fingers, stroking his hair. After a while the dizziness faded, but the exhaustion stayed. He felt like he could fall asleep right then and there, but he fought against it. He had to cling to what could very well be the last moment with her he’d ever get.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked quietly, still stroking his hair.

Caldyn shook his head. He couldn’t. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow her to blame herself for this. Not when it was his fault, really; it were his delusional hopes he had allowed himself, his horrible nightmares that would chase her away.

“Was it something outside? In here? Something I said? Something I did?” Her words faded again, barely breaking through the haze in his mind, as she recounted the events of the morning; not that there were many. He couldn’t follow them. He felt impressions of their breakfast, of rain, of twisted wood and drying moss, until a sharp inhale made him flinch.

“Oh no.”

There was so much horror behind Seyonna’s words. Caldyn raised his head, almost managing to form the words for a concerned question. Almost. As it was, he only moved his lips, raising his trembling hand to reach for her. She grabbed it, squeezed it, clinging to it.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean… You didn’t notice… Of course you didn’t, you can’t see, I should have thought of that.” Seyonna talked as fast and disconnected as she rarely did, at least not in those last weeks. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but then you looked at me, and I thought… oh this is all my fault, I’m so sorry, Caldyn.”

Still holding onto his hand, she jumped to her feet.

“Can you stand? I need to show you something. I mean, if you can’t, I can tell you, but I think you need to see it yourself, and it isn’t that far, just a few steps. Can you try? I’ll help you.”

What her whispered assurances hadn’t managed to do, her torrent of words did; it snapped him out of it. He was halfway up by the time he realized his hands were barely shaking anymore. Still, he clung to the wall, knowing that Seyonna wouldn’t be able to hold all of his weight, should he falter. He didn’t trust his left leg; as always it hurt, his knee barely carrying his weight as he tested it. It would work for a few steps, though. It had to.

He barely managed one before Seyonna was at his side, putting his left arm around her shoulder. 

“Let me help you. Please,” she pleaded. As little as he wanted to be a burden to her, he couldn’t deny her this wish. Not when she sounded so desperate, even if he couldn’t understand why.

Seyonna led him across the cave, a few steps only, before his toes touched the familiar frame. He had woven it from young branches, to keep this bedding in place. For a moment, Caldyn was confused; he hadn’t expected to reach it yet. Usually he was quite good at measuring distances in his home without thinking. It probably wasn’t a surprise that his hazy thoughts and heavy limbs failed him, though. Perhaps he should sit down, he thought, allow Seyonna to bring whatever she had wanted to show him to him instead, if possible.

He reached out with his right hand, leaning towards the wall that had to be there — and almost fell over forwards when it wasn’t there. It was only Seyonna’s grip on his left arm that kept him from losing his balance, from stumbling into the rock face first.

Caldyn shuffled his feet, feeling for the wooden frame with his toes. Was he still this confused? He had done the very same motion dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. What he felt just wasn’t right.

“Careful,” Seyonna said. She was so close, so warm, it was hard for him to concentrate on anything but the soft touch of her hair on his shoulder. “Here’s the wall.”

She had somehow reached around him, guiding him one step forward, directing his right hand until he could feel the rock. It was familiar, and suddenly everything felt right again, but the confusion still lingered, making him dizzy. He used the wall to steady himself as he sat down, letting his arm slip off Seyonna’s shoulder in the process. She sat down next to him, so close he could feel her warmth on his bark.

“I’m so sorry. You must have thought…” She paused, and he heard the quiet noise of her playing with the bands of her dress, as she so often did when she was nervous. He was nervous, too. His mind still hadn’t quite caught up, and he wondered if she could guess the extent of his dark thoughts.

“Anyway, all I wanted was to move my bed. So I can sleep next to you. So I don’t have to get up at night. That way I’m right there when you need me, and perhaps I can even notice it sooner. When you have a nightmare, I mean. I never meant to say… whatever it sounded like.”

She had… moved the bed? Caldyn leaned forward, reaching for where he expected the bed to end, finding nothing but more dried moss and soft leaves. He couldn’t reach the end of it from where he was sitting. He leaned back against the wall again, turning slightly so he was facing her, head inclined.

“Is that… is that alright?” she asked, so much uncertainty behind her words. “I guess I should have asked, but I had this idea this morning, and I wanted it to be a surprise, and I didn’t think you’d mind, because you always seem so happy in the mornings. But if you don’t want me to, then I’ll put it all back, I promise.” She paused, perhaps waiting for him to say something, but he was too overwhelmed to reply. When she continued, she talked even quicker, a thing he wouldn’t have thought possible. “And if we leave it like that, you don’t have to come over anymore to sit next to me, because I know you do, even if I don’t know why. Well, I guess so you don’t wake me up, but I told you, I don’t mind, Caldyn, please, wake me up if you need me. I want to help you, even if I can’t do much.”

Not much? He’d have to tell her just how much she did for him, how much she saved him, every single night. But he couldn’t, not now, not before he had figured out how to phrase it without making it obvious how desperately he needed her. He didn’t want to put this on her.

“It’s…” It was hard for Caldyn to find his voice again, to make the words leave his lips. “You don’t… have to.”

Seyonna sighed. There were so many emotions behind the sound, he couldn’t tell them apart; he stopped trying when she snuggled up to him, leaning her head against his chest.

“I… I like not sleeping alone, too, you know,” she said so quietly, it was barely more than a whisper.

There was both loneliness and happiness behind her words. It made his chest tight as he wrapped his arms around her. It was a selfish thought, he realized, to consider that she might have chosen this not only for his sake. Believing that perhaps he could offer her a bit of comfort, too, provided an excuse to not reject her offer, even if he knew that she gave so much more to him than he could ever give her back.

“Come. Let’s rest a bit.” Her hand on his side coaxed him to lie down, to bed his head on the pillow, his back towards the wall. “I thought I’d sleep here, on this side. That way I can easily get up if you need something, and you can touch the wall. I know you sometimes do.”

Caldyn was almost surprised she had noticed it; almost. She noticed so much, so many little things. And yet she barely ever asked, just like she didn’t ask now. Instead she laid down next to him, reaching for her own pillow to stuff it under her head. It was so close, one corner of it tickled his chin. Then she was so close, too. He resisted the urge to pull her even closer, instead interlacing his fingers with hers as she reached for his left hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Caldyn shifted a bit, so he could move the arm he was lying on. He didn’t get far, just managed to touch her lightly, feel soft fabric under his fingertips, and warm bark.

“Don’t. I’d never… blame you.”

He had promised her that on the first day, and it was still true. It wasn’t her fault when the darkness dragged him down, when a smell or a world made him lose his grip on reality. He wouldn’t blame her for turning her back on him, either, but she never did. Instead she pulled him back, every time, with all her patience and warmth. Saving him, just like she had earlier, like she did now. The last bit of tension left his body as a soft touch on his forehead made him relax. Perhaps it wouldn’t last forever; but for now she was here, and she didn’t seem to want to leave, and that was already more than he’d ever have dreamed of.

[ID: The top image is a banner showing red, glowy plants. Across it   is written the title of the story, Thorns & Jasmine, in a bright to dark green gradient. The letters are slightly thorny looking. All other  images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​ @whump-cravings​ @badthingshappenbingo​

[suresha]

“ i had to do that… just once. “ (sigyn @ loki)

send in “ i had to do that… just once. “ for the sender, having learned that the receiver might no longer be in their life (due to a pending deadly mission, moving to another country, etc.), to suddenly approach the receiver and pull them in for a passionate kiss

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @tobedisastrous

          Sometimes  Loki  wondered  what  was  the  point  of  it  all.  Good  guy.  Bad  guy.  The  universe  wasn't  as  black  or  white  as  it  seemed.  There  had  always  been  this  sort  of  grey  area  that  Loki  was  fortunate  (  or  unfortunate )  enough  to  recognize  at  a  young  age.  He  simply  chose  to  carry  on  with  the  status  quo.  That  meant  playing  into  the  part  of  annoying  younger  brother  and  doing  all  those  things  to  make  Thor  look  like  the  Golden  Child.  It  wasn't  difficult  to  do  either  when  one  parent  already  considered  you  far  beneath  the     Golden  Child     anyway.  Of  course,  Loki  probably  could  have  made  more  of  an  effort  to  be  worthy  of  all  the  gifts  that  could  be  bestowed  upon  him  by  Odin,  but  where  was  the  fun  in  that?  He  was  nothing  ---  would  NEVER  be  nothing  ---  in  the  old  man's  eyes.  Might  as  well  have  some  fun  and  in  hindsight,  Loki  did  not  regret  any  of  it.

          Thanos.  Now  he  certainly  aided  in  the  god's  willingness  to  put  things  into  perspective. ��Having  ironically  faked  his  own  death  on  numerous  occasions  only  to  have  life  snatched  away  at  the  hands  of  an  emo  brute?  Talk  about  irony  in  its  finest  cloak.  It  left  Loki  at  a  loss  upon  his  return  because  what  now?  He  had  spent  centuries  alluding  death  only  to  wonder  if  he  had  been  subjected  to  a  fate  that  was  far  worse  than  death  could  ever  be.  Knowing  that  he,  in  fact,  had  died  only  to  be  brought  back  as  if  nothing  had  happened?  How  did  one  even  recover  from  such  a  thing?  The  tesseract  did  nothing  to  hide  the  painful  truth  of  the  matter.  Even  with  the  Avengers  meddling  with  time,  Loki  still  had  memories  of  what  truly  transpired  and  it  nagged  at  him  in  ways  he  cared  not  to  admit.  So  what  was  next?

          Oh,  right.  The  universe  was  ever  shifting.  When  one  threat  was  snuffed  away,  another  reappeared  in  some  form  or  another.  It  was  an  endless  cycle  that,  quite  frankly,  was  beginning  to  wear  on  Loki's  nerves.  After  this  last  ordeal,  he'd  like  to  think  he  had  earned  every  right  to  pull  a  Thor.  If  the  anointed  King  of  Asgard  (  in  Odin's  eyes  anyway  )  could  skip  town  to  find  himself,  why  not  Loki?

❝   We  need  to  work  together.   ❞

          Sigyn.  He  vaguely  recalled  crossing  paths  with  her  on  one  occasion  or  another.  They  never  broke  bread  or  spoke  words  ---  that  he  recalled  anyway.  It  was  obvious  from  the  jump  that  she  was  like  all  the  rest  back  then;   scornful  of  him  for  being  such  a  thorn  in  Odin's  side.  If  she  had  any  interest  years  ago,  he'd  have  been  surprised.  With  how  hard  Loki  worked  making  Thor's  life  difficult,  no  one  in  their  right  mind  would  have  been  seen  cozying  up  to  him.   Naturally,  he  had  come  a  long  way  since  his  younger  days,  likely  something  she  quickly  sensed  upon  finding  him  staring  out  over  New  Asgard.  He  didn't  interact  with  the  people.  In  fact,  it  had  merely  been  his  own  astral  projection  but  she  was  astute  enough  to  find  his  real  form  all  the  same,  eventually  pleading  her  case  about  some  god-killer  he  knew  nothing  about.

          ❝   You  and  Thor  are  likely  on  his  list,   ❞  she  had  insisted  ---  and  quite  fervently  he  might  add.  

          Her  argument  had  been  sound  enough  except  after  dying  at  the  hands  of  one  lunatic,  could  dying  at  the  hand  of  another  truly  be  so  bad?  It  certainly  had  to  beat  THIS  part  of  his  own  miserable  existence.  He  couldn't  think  of  anything  more  sad  than  being  haunted  by  the  collapse  of  a  once  great  empire  and  dying  in  a  vain  attempt  to  make  up  for  past  transgressions.  His  people  had  all  but  forgotten  him  while  Thor  was,  understandably,  MIA.  It  wasn't  fair  really,  but  he  was  getting  too  old  to  play  the  victim  anymore  ---  not  when  there  was  no  one  around  to  give  a  damn  anymore.

         ❝   God  killer.  He  sounds  right  interesting.   ❞

          He  had  quite  the  'don't  care',  nonchalant  attitude  about  it  all,  much  to  Sigyn's  dismay,  but  in  the  end  he  decided  it  was  worth  checking  out  ---  but  not  for  reasons  she  posed.  He  didn't  much  care  about  his  own  life.  As  far  as  he  was  concerned,  if  he  died,  it  was  likely  a  fate  far  better  than  this  one.  No,  he  was  simply  curious  about  the  God-Killer  himself,  and  what  made  him  want  to  go  on  such  a  venture.  Which  god  had  wronged  him,  and  more  importantly,  what  weapon  was  he  using  to  end  them  all?  Such  a  weapon  would  have  been  useful  during  some  of  his  adventures  over  the  years,  particularly  where  Hela  was  concerned,  but  ah.  No  use  in  crying  over  past  family  business.  They  were  hunting  a  god-killer  right?  Best  focus  on  that  matter  with  a  clear  head.

          Their  first  stop  had  taken  them  to  a  planet  near  one  he  never  wished  to  see  again,  but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  Rumors  of  a  planet  near  Sakaar  being  wiped  out  was  too  much  of  a  coincidence  to  ignore.  On  top  of  that,  Grandmaster  had  fancied  himself  as  some  sort  of  god too.  It  wouldn't  have  surprised  Loki  at  all  if  his  planet  had  been  invaded  yet  the  place  seemed  to  have  alluded  the  god-killer  for  now.  He  and  Sigyn  bypassed  Sakaar  for  another.  Even  before  they  stepped  foot  onto  the  rocky  terrain,  one  could  tell  SOMETHING  had  happened,  for  life  was  nowhere  to  be  found.

          Loki  frowned,  nixing  his  suit  for  his  old  leather  attire.  The  changed  happened  quickly  as  he  moved  forward,  dagger  at  his  side  to  do  some  investigating  of  his  own.  He  wasn't  waiting  for  her  though  it  would  seem  she  had  much  to  say  about  it.  Jerking  him  around,  green  eyes  blinked  in  disbelief  as  she  grabbed  him  for  a  quick  kiss.  Whether  it  was  for  luck  or  something  else  altogether,  he  didn't  quite  know.  Her  words  didn't  allude  too  much  either.

          ❝   I  had  to  do  that...  just  once.   ❞

          He  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it  so  he  took  it  as  her  merely  taking  pity  on  him.  Funny  really,  but  it  wasn't  worth  making  a  big  to-do  about  it.  Instead,  he  forced  one  of  his  old  signature  smirks  to  form  before  turning  away.      ❝   Knew  I  would  win  you  over  eventually.  My  charm  is  simply  irresistible.   ❞   He  stepped  away,  moving  towards  an  area  barely  visible  due  to  fog.      ❝   I  will  search  around  here.  You  look  over  there.  We  will  cover  more  ground  this  way.  If  anything  moves,  I  would  advise  you  to  attack  first,  beg  forgiveness  later.  It  has  worked  wonders  for  me  over  the  years.   ❞ 

          Kiss  forgotten  for  the  moment,  Loki  went  to  work  filled  with  a  new  found  adrenaline  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  this  new  villain.

[leesielex]

Cyvasse of Crowns

Thank you to @libradoodle1 for the beautiful moodboard and for Betaing this on top of everything else she does for me and many others of the Jonerys fanfic community! I attached a snippet, please click on the AO3 link to read entire story. And don't forget to leave kudos and comments! Hope you all enjoy!

Daenerys double checked her reflection in the floor length mirror. A squeak alerted her to the door opening and her eyes lit up as she saw the reflection of the person approaching from behind her. She took a step to the side to allow room to squeeze in together, wrapping her arms around their waist and smiling brightly.

“Oh em geez! Dei, you look ah-MAY-zing!” She complimented her best friend.

“Thank you, Dany. Marge always comes through! You truly look like a Moon Goddess,” Dei told her, as they admired each other.

One of the biggest reasons she loved her friends, they were always so supportive.

She and her friends, Missandei and Margaery, had decided to dress as characters from their favorite book series, A Cyvasse of Crowns. It was based on the ancient myths of Essos and Westeros. They had bonded over the books while roommates in their freshmen year, all randomly placed together in the arts dorm.

Dany was accepted to the fine arts program at KLU, much to her parent’s chagrin. They believed she was throwing her life away and urged her to go to law school and work in one of their family’s law firms. Her father and youngest brother ran the one on Dragonstone, while her mother and eldest brother worked at the practice in Essos. They had hoped she would follow in their footsteps and help Aegon and Rhaenys open the new King’s Landing branch.

It had been a tumultuous time when she chose to go against her father. Her privilege, name, and high marks, as well as her portfolio earned her a full scholarship. She had to find her own job and earn her own money to pay for any expenses not included.

At first she worked in the campus cafeteria with Dei, whose family was blue collar from Naath. But Marge was a wonderful addition to their life, and while her family paid her way, she always shared with them and helped them when she could. Which included getting them better jobs in her grandmother’s art museum. They had finished her degree a year ago; now her artwork was displayed in a local gallery owned by Margaery.

She came from a wealthy family in the Reach, with a large inheritance and used her own degree in art and business to start her own gallery in the upscale arts district on Rhaenys’ Hill. Missandei studied art history and continued to work for the Queen of Thornes. The colorful moniker used for Olenna Tyrell, Marge’s grandma, due to her sharp tongue and shrewd business dealings to obtain the most unique and sought after pieces in the history of the Realm.

When they needed an escape they would read A Cyvasse of Crowns and once they had finished the series, they became obsessed waiting for the next book, A Breeze of Ice. The author seemed to lose interest so they turned to fanfics and quickly began writing their own.

They even joined a discord group about their favorite ‘ship’, The Goddess of the Moon and King of Winter, to communicate with other fanfic writers and book readers. She met many amazing people and promised to send a pic to them all, especially to her beta, someone with the screen name, KingSnow.

She had joked and discussed the series with KingSnow especially, and became a fast fan of his fanfics. When she mentioned she wished to write her own, he encouraged her to try it and volunteered to edit them. Now they spoke daily about their ideas and works in progress. It was fun and exciting to explore her deepest desires in this world of fantasy.

The words of his latest fic had Dany flushed and bothered. Before she knew it, her fingers traveled lower as she sought relief to the smutty words upon her phone screen. Dany had confided in KingSnow she had a secret desire for a more dominant partner, though she had never tried such a thing. A few days later he gifted her a smut of Dom King of Winter/Sub Moon Goddess.

When she finished she tagged him in a message in the group that she gushed over his fic, in more ways than one, adding an emoji with an orange face, tongue sticking out, and a drop of sweat on it’s brow indicating it was hot. Then sent an addition of one of their many inside jokes, telling him, ‘but it was no anal golf.’ The ensuing gif storm that followed had her laughing out loud until her eyes watered and her lungs ached.

Daenerys dressed as the Moon Goddess of Valyria, who in the books, cracked the moon to hatch a thousand dragons. She lived among the people, ruling for a thousand years, and gifted them with the dragons. Her descendents all had silver moonlit hair and purple eyes.

She herself was a descendant of the Valyrians and her ancestors were said to ride dragons, though none existed anymore. Her family was one of the few left to still have these features and her home and family jewelry was all decorated in Valyrian steel dragons, with obsidian and ruby embellishments.

Missandei chose the costume of Libra, the Goddess of Justice. Her storyline freed the slaves of Essos from the Great Masters and the Harpy. Well loved by the Moon Goddess, she was given a dragon named Dreamfyre to help her break the chains of slavery and smash the slave trade.

Marge was of course going as Jillie, her favorite character. Unfortunately, she was killed off early in the books, though she was still a fan favorite and had a huge following. She was a Goddess of Fruits and Flowers, creating the rich soil in the Reach that fed the people of Westeros. The Tyrell family was said to be her descendents which was why their House still had remnants of Roses carved into the antique furnishings.

They had all helped each other get ready, with their own special talents, to get their costumes to look as close to the books as possible. Dei was a wonder at braids and emulating hairstyles, while Dany’s art background gave her a talent for makeup. Marge had a keen eye and attention to detail and could find any outfit and accessories and put them together to perfectly complete the look.

Weeks they had dedicated to getting everything just right. Now, as Dany and Dei looked into the mirror they were in awe, truly looking like the artwork that accompanied the books. Her hair was half up in intricate braids, twisting and feeding into the other, with small curls framing her face as the rest hung down her back in loose waves. The makeup was nothing too elaborate but brought out all her best features.

Her dress had a fitted blue bodice with a low cut v that pushed her breasts up and gave her killer cleavage. The silver embroidery gave it a truly ethereal look and was completed with a large silver belt around her waist, the metal twisted into its own patterned design. Though sleeveless, there were silver details that matched the belt at her shoulders with beaded strands draped from it, attaching a cape that reached the floor. The cape moved beautifully behind her as she walked. The skirt flowed around her and accentuated her hips and made her look like true royalty.

Missandei left her dark hair more natural, only the front twisted into a gold band that wrapped around. Her makeup was natural and light. The dress she wore was white cut into a halter top that tied to a gold necklace. A strip of blue fabric wrapped around her hips and the skirt was more fitted, with enough space to move freely. Her costume also had a cape made of the same white fabric and lined in a matching hue of blue.

Marge’s dress was a masterpiece of green. The sleeves jutted out just slightly from her shoulders. It buttoned in the middle at the base of her neck, yet left almost her entire back exposed. A single rose was attached to the front at her waist. And the bodice of the dress had lace roses and vines covering every inch. The green skirt had large pleats evenly, yet strategically, placed to fit her curves. Her light brown hair had a twist from the front, one from each side, that met in the middle of the back of her head, leaving the rest down.

“You guys! Don’t leave me out!” Dany heard Marge lament from behind.

She turned around and gasped at her beautiful friend, extending the arm not around Dei to Marge. “Get over here!”

She ran over excitedly and joined in a group hug. “We are so gonna get laid tonight!” Margaery smirked.

“Marge!!!” Dany scolded her.

Her friend had been trying to hook her up with someone ever since she left Daario, telling her the best way to get over someone was to get under another, with a wink and her signature wicked smile. Dany could only roll her eyes.

“What? It’s true. We look hot tonight! Any man would be a fool not to notice. And you know I have had my eye on Robb Stark.”

Ah, yes. How could any of them forget? Robb Stark was Marge’s newest target after she finally left the spoiled socialite Joffrey Lannister after an unfortunate incident on a plane after they vacationed in Dorne. The video of him throwing a fit about the service in First Class had gone viral when he attacked a flight attendant.

Robb was throwing the party they were to attend. Marge met him when he came in to purchase some artwork to decorate his new condo, having just moved from the North after graduating and starting his own company. Grey Wind Inc. was a solar power company whose mission was to turn King’s Landing more green. His father owned a similar company in Winterfell, one of the most environmentally friendly places to live.

“Well, we all know at least one of us will get laid tonight,” Dei said with a wink as she stepped from the hug and sauntered towards her purse discarded on the bed.

“Ha ha. Rub it in! We can’t all meet our soulmates at nineteen,” Marge bit back, though they all loved her boyfriend, Grey, who was meeting them there, dressed as Torgo, Libra’s love interest in the books. He was such a good sport about the matching costumes, even wearing the full body armor of the famous Unsullied.

“Ok, ok. Enough about our sex lives, or lack of them. Let’s get this party started!” Dany said as she threw her hands into the air and wiggled her hips from side to side, making a silly face with her nose scrunched and mouth open. Dei laughed and whooped next to her.

“We will leave, just as long as you promise not to do that again! Not very Moon Goddess of you,” Marge admonished her, looking her up and down.

“Let’s take a picture for the discord group before we go, really quick!” Dany suggested.

They got out the selfie stick so they could all get in the picture and she clicked a few from different angles. A ding alerted Margaery from her own phone.

“Oh! The Uber is here!”

[ragingbookdragon]

My Dark Knight

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language (I think? I don't fuckin' remember.)

Author's Note: The only cringe I got from this story was the title. It's so fucking cheesy bruh. Enjoy! -Thorne

Bruce was a mystery to her. The longer she dated him, the more she realized the image he projected was a cover, hiding the real man underneath. One time they’d gone on a date to the new escape rooms that had been built in Gotham, and the entire time they’d been inside, she could tell the person she’d gone in with, was not the same person locked in with her. His eyes had narrowed as he scanned the room, sometimes lingering on certain items placed around. She watched him for a moment, then his eyes met hers, and he immediately grinned, eyes losing their hardness, taking on a mirthful appearance. “Find anything to start with?” he’d asked her, then followed up with, “I don’t even know where to start.” She might’ve fallen off the back of a wagon, but it sure as hell wasn’t last night.

She handed him a slip of paper, observing how his mood shifted once more, turning solemn as he read it. It baffled her to no end, wondering why someone like him would become so serious and concerned at times. The image he projected to Gotham was the model of billionaire-playboy, something that he played well; other times he acted goofy, giving Gotham the loveable-goober, they exasperatedly appreciated. But what got to her the most, was how solemn he would become. It would happen at random times, and though she would never admit it, it took her a God awful, embarrassingly long amount of time to realize it occurred when police sirens would sound.

***

They lay on her couch, (Y/N)’s back pressed up against his chest as they stretched their legs out in front of them. A good meal and a few glasses of wine had them cuddled up and laughing about the most random things.

She held the magazine up, showing him the cover. “That’s a good picture of you.” He hummed in amusement, listening as she said, “You’ve got that little half-smirk on your lips.” She turned her head, seeing the same smirk looking back at her. “I like it.”

His eyes filled with mirth as he leaned forward, gently pulling the magazine from her hands. He let it flutter to the floor and (Y/N) let out a small laugh as he started pressing kisses to her cheek and neck. “Bruce Wayne, you’re a scoundrel.” The hum he returned was quiet, but it was an answer to her all the same.

A moment later, his lips had stilled against her skin, pulling her from the moment she was in and causing confusion. “Bruce?” She craned her neck, trying to see him. “Is everything alright?” (Y/N) caught his eyes, seeing him staring silently out the window.

Seconds later, a police cruiser passed by, blue lights blazing as her eyes darted to catch it. Something in his eyes worried her and she rested a hand along his jaw, coercing his gaze to hers. “It’s probably nothing…just plain old, Gotham crime.”

When he finally looked at her, his eyes still carried their sharpness, and while it concerned her, it didn’t truly become understandable until a few days later.

***

She hadn’t met the rest of his children, only Tim from the times she’d visited the office; the two seemed to get along well, their backgrounds being similar, and she developed a mothering fondness for the boy; he didn’t seem to mind being doted on by her either.

(Y/N) stepped through the doors to his office, seeing his son sitting at his desk. “Hi Timmy. You look like you’re having a busy day?”

He glanced up from the laptop, giving her a smile. “Hey Miss (Y/N).” He looked back down. “It’s not too bad…meeting days usually aren’t.” He paused, eyes meeting hers once more. “Are you here for Bruce?”

She nodded, stepping closer to his desk. “He texted saying he was in a meeting and that he’d be done around eleven-thirty.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Mind if I impose for a few minutes?”

Tim returned her smile in kindness, shaking his head. “Not at all. In fact, I could use your help organizing.”

(Y/N) nodded, moving beside his desk. As she gathered his files, a certain ring binder caught her eye, and she tapped it. “This doesn’t look like the usual files you boys have…what it is?”

Tim glanced at it, voice dropping as he admitted, almost bashfully, “Oh that’s…a personal binder…I forgot I’d brought it here.” He reached over, flipping it open, and (Y/N) took in the sight of hundreds of photos of the Dark Knight and his partners.

She took a seat on the arm of his chair, gazing at them; one photo caught her eye, and she pointed it out. “That one.”

Tim stopped trying to flip the page, looking at the photo. “What about it?”

(Y/N) stared at the image of Batman standing on the ledge. The picture wasn’t as clear as she’d like, and it was a bit far, but she could see a familiar smirk on his face.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

She blinked, smile appearing on her face as she nodded. “I’m fine…just in thought for a moment.” She gestured to the picture. “Do you think you could make a copy of that for me?”

He nodded, albeit confused, picking up a few of the pages, murmuring, “I’ve got better photos of him in here. Clearer ones.”

(Y/N) shook her head, pointing at the photo. “I want that one.”

Tim shrugged, pulling the photograph from the plastic slip before moving to the printer. A moment later, he took a copy of the photo from the top, handing to her, watching as she folded it and tucked it away in her purse.

“Any reason why it was that photo?”

As she opened her mouth to respond, the door to the office opened, and Bruce appeared in the entry. He smiled at her. “(Y/N).”

She rose from the chair, putting the purse strap on her arm; she glanced down at Tim and whispered, “I’m a big fan of Batman when he doesn’t look like he’s angry at the world.” Tim snorted, and she moved to Bruce, placing a hand on his arm. “Hi Bruce.” The two waved at the teenager before leaving for lunch.

***

A few hours later, she sat on her couch, staring between the photograph and the magazine. Her eyes rested on the photo, then she slowly drug them to the magazine and she sighed, “There’s no way…I’m just imagining this.” Apprehensively, she picked up the marker, moving it to his face on the magazine. “He’s not Batman…he’s not Batman…”

She colored in the top half of his face, then added two ears and breathed, “Oh holy mother of God…He’s the Batman.” (Y/N) held the magazine and photo side by side, disbelief in her gaze as understanding flooded her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was rising from the couch, making her way to the front door.

***

She pulled up to the manor and climbed the steps, knuckles rapping against the door as she waited. The door opened, revealing the butler; he was surprised to see her but quickly recovered. “Miss (Y/N). We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile and responded, “I know…I’m sorry for showing up at late notice but…I need to speak to Bruce.”

He nodded, letting her inside. “Master Bruce is in his room, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room while I fetch him.”

(Y/N) hummed, following him into the room. He left her standing by the couch, his sons sitting there, eyes wide as they looked at her.

She waved at them. “Hi boys…Hi Tim.”

He waved back at her, then his other sons rose from the couch, extending their hands. “Dick Grayson, I’m the oldest.”

She shook it, smiling, then took the other’s hand. “Jason Todd, I’m second oldest.”

(Y/N) dropped his hand, glancing at the younger boy who was glaring at her. “From what Bruce described, you must be Damian.”

He glared at her. “How much is he paying you to be his escort?”

Jason reacted immediately, turning to the boy. “Oi!”

(Y/N) simply smiled and returned, “Probably about as much as he paid your mom to be his.”

Damian’s eyes widened in shock as his mouth went slack, obviously not expecting such a sharp comeback.

She knelt to his height and gently closed his mouth. “You’ll catch flies, sweetheart.” She stood back up, smiling as Bruce walked into the living room.

“(Y/N)? Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

She turned, looking at him. “Uh…sort of?” She paused, then murmured, “Kinda had a lifechanging revelation at my place about twenty minutes ago.” His eyes filled with confusion, then she revealed, “You’re him…you’re Batman, aren’t you?”

The room went silent as her words hit each of them, and she watched the billionaire persona fall away as The Dark Knight appeared. “…How’d you find out?”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, the weight of his gaze beginning to make her nervous; she wrung her hands, voice quiet. “I didn’t until tonight…with a little help from a photo and a magazine…” She paused, then said, “You’re really him, aren’t you?” She glanced at the boys. “And they’re…them. Nightwing…Red Hood…Red Robin…Robin.”

Her gaze turned back to him. “You guys are the Batfamily.”

Bruce stared at her a moment, then walked past her murmuring, “Follow me.”

She obeyed, walking behind him into the study. Bruce twisted the hands of the clock, then a doorway appeared; he took her hand, leading her down the darkened stairway. When they got to the bottom, he led her to a wall of suits.

They stood in front of it, and she watched his stare turn almost sad as he looked at them. “…I was going to tell you in time.” He glanced over at her. “It looks like you beat me to it.”

(Y/N) looked away, frown crossing her lips as she apologized, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to take that right from you.”

Bruce’s hand tightened around hers, and she looked back up at him. “You did take that right from me.” He eyed her, that smirk crossing his lips as he quipped, “But I know ways that you can make it up to me.”

(Y/N) huffed in disbelief, letting go of his hand. “You scoundrel.”

His smirk grew as he rounded on her, hands taking hold of her hips. “Oh, I’m not a scoundrel.”

She laughed as he pressed her against the glass suit holder. “You are a scoundrel and if you want me to make it up to you…” (Y/N) pointed to one of the suits. “Let me try that on and I will.”

Bruce chuckled, leaning close, his breath on her lips as he purred, “Where’s the point in that? It’ll just get taken off.”

(Y/N) glanced over at the case, then back to him, and begged, “But I really wanna try the suit on.” She curled her hands in his sweater, pleading with him. “Please Bruce? Just for a couple minutes?”

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really want to try the suit on?”

(Y/N) nodded fervently, hands patting his chest as she spoke excitedly. “And the belt. I wanna wear the utility belt.”

After watching her for a moment, he relented, and a few minutes later, she stood in the center of the cave, the suit barely fitting on her.

(Y/N) pulled the cowl on, eyes searching the cave until she found him; she grinned, pulling a deep voice as she posed. “I’m Batman.” Bruce let out a deep sigh through his nose and she asked, “How many times have you heard people do that?”

He grunted. “Too many.”

She smiled, walking over to him. “I just want you to know that this is badass, but this thing also weighs a ton.” (Y/N) rested her chin against his chest, staring at him. “You’re very strong, Bruce.”

He stared back at her, countering, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, thumbs sticking under the cowl as she pulled it off; she gently took his hands, caressing the back of them, and murmured, “…I love you.” His eyes widened and she squeezed his hands, reiterating, “I love you, Bruce.”

He seemed to hesitate in his answer, but she didn’t mind, letting go of his hands in favor of wrapping her arms around him. “You don’t have to say it back yet…I know it’s early.” (Y/N) leaned into him, pressing her lips to his cheek. “But I just want you to know that I do…” She pulled away, steel-blue eyes following her as she did.

She waited for him, then he took her hand and muttered, “…I’m not an easy man to understand.”

(Y/N) smiled, gently shaking her head. “I’ve got all the time in the world to understand.”

He swallowed, meeting her eyes. “Most of my time is directed to—” Bruce gestured to the cave. “This…I don’t know if I can offer you what you want.”

(Y/N) brought his hand up to her face, pressing kisses to his palm. “Your love is all I could ever want…my Dark Knight.”

Before he could respond, a scoff sounded by the stairs followed by a voice, griping, “My Dark Knight. How original.”

The two pulled back, and she watched Bruce reach down, plucking something from the utility belt around her waist. He pulled away and chucked it towards the stairs, then a yelp sounded. “That hurt, old man!”

Bruce grinned, wrapping his arms around (Y/N). “Good. I meant for it to.”

Laughter followed, then his sons came into view, and Tim quipped, “So, we’re not lobotomizing her for figuring out our secret?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, but Bruce’s arms tightened around her waist as he denounced, “Not the best joke, Tim.

He pointed finger guns at her. “Sorry (Y/N)…just kidding.”

She let out a laugh that seemed more forced than not. “I would hope so.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, pulling away from Bruce’s arms. “I should probably change out of this now.”

As she took a step, a siren sounded from the Batcomputer, making them look towards it; Bruce looked back at the boys and nodded. “Go.”

Each of them moved, and she waited for them to come back. When they did, the boys passed by, giving waves and smiles (even Damian), until all that remained was her and Bruce. She stared at him, seeing him in his suit up close for the first time.

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, tracing the symbol on his chest. “Well…go save Gotham, Batman.”

A small smile crossed his lips, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. As he pulled away, Bruce murmured, “I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded. “Be careful…you and the boys…please.”

Bruce gave a quick nod, then walked off. He got a few feet away, then turned around, gazing at her. “(Y/N)?” She glanced at him and he confessed, “I love you too.”

[yandere-daydreams]

God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

~

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond  - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

[tenthgrove]

Yandere La Squadra- Illuso, Prosciutto, and Pesci

(Cw: Abduction, Forced Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Murder)

Illuso

It’s probably a given that Illuso never intended to find love. For a person so proud and jealous, a romantic obsession would most likely arise out of just that- jealousy. You were a bystander, a mere distant relative of Illuso’s mark. He probably never would have even heard of you, had it not been for the party.

As Illuso watched the happy revellers from the safety of his mirror world, his efforts to observe the target were hampered by a far more appealing distraction. You. You were exactly his type, beautiful and amicable. As you spoke to your friends and family, he found himself wishing you were saying those words to him and not those worthless nobodies.

He tried to shake off his captivation, leave the room you were in to focus just on his target. But when he returned, you were talking with another man. As envy cut through his chest, he came to understand how he really felt. You were not something he could leave alone.

For months, Illuso did nothing but watch you. When he would normally go down to the bar or for a walk around town, he would head into the mirror world and watch you go through your day. He would even talk to you, secure and yet saddened in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Then one day, Illuso had a stroke of luck. Another individual vaguely in your social circle has been pinned as La Squadra’s target, and this time, Illuso is going to use it to the fullest. He goes out of his way to exaggerate the connection between you and the target, saboutaging all the usual routes the team would use to hunt them down until the only option seems to be going through you. Finally, Illuso gets permission to abduct you and take you in for interrogation. His plan is to be your saviour, to convince the team to let you go and carry you home in his arms like a knight in shining armous. Unfortunately for him, it takes all of 5 seconds of talking to you for Risotto to realise what’s really going on.

Illuso gets hauled to one side, and after getting one of the biggest dressing-downs of his life, is informed that he could have very well gotten you killed since La Squadra can’t let witnesses go. Risotto informs him that if he wants you to live, he’s going to have to keep you captive himself now. He started this mess, so he’s going to deal with it.

Illuso always intended to have a ‘normal’ relationship after the whole kidnapping stunt, but he supposes keeping you prisoner is a close second. Since he never planned for this to happen, his home is completely unprepared for holding you, and he has to keep you in the mirror world for the first few days.

Once he has a suitably secure room set up, you’re allowed to come out of the mirror world again but on the strict conditions you don’t act up. After spending days in an alternate dimension at his control, you would have to be very brave indeed to ever go against Illuso’s word.

Illuso tries to win you over with gifts. He misses the way you acted when your life was happy and is annoyed he can’t see that side of you now you’re finally together in person. Don’t be surprised if he offsets his anger by hunting down those you loved. If you had a partner before, you can be certain they’ll be first to go.

Despite this cruelty, Illuso genuinely begins to feel remorse for your sorry state. It will lead to him doing some self-reflection for the first time in his life, and he will genuinely try to be a better person around you to make you smile again.

Prosciutto

By the time Prosciutto fell for you, you had already been having a bad time of things. Trapped in Passione through no fault of your own, you were unfortunately no stranger to peril. It’s this reason that attracted Prosciutto to you in the first place.

As a standless, low-ranking newcomer to the syndicate, you were as vulnerable as they come. And yet, as Prosciutto listened to your story from someone who knew of it, he felt intrigue. You presented to him the opportunity of a project. Someone to mold.

Prosciutto sought you out a few days later. His offer was simple- a friendship and nothing more. In exchange, you would gain the company of a far more distinguished member of Passione who could teach you the unspoken rules of survival. For some weeks, this is how things were. He would teach you his skills in his spare time and talk with you afterwards. The two of you began to develop a genuine, warm bond.

That’s where the problems started, however. As Prosciutto learned more and more about your story, he began to question his original plan. You didn’t belong here, there were no two ways about it. You may be showing potential in your training, yes, but would you ever truly belong in such a syndicate? Prosciutto didn’t think so, and he couldn’t bear to imagine you spending the rest of your life this way. Second, there was the issue of his romantic feelings. They were getting hard to ignore.

So, Prosciutto comes up with a proposition for you. Disappear off the map entirely. Prosciutto will handle everything, and you can live comfortably with him in hiding for however long is necessary. He also pleads with you to become his lover.

However, you just can’t find it in you to trust him on something so important. You turn him down, thank him for all he’s done for you, and leave. Prosciutto is heartbroken. He can’t let you continue like this, especially not without his protection, and so, he’s going to do something he knows you’ll hate him for. Prosciutto breaks into your hideout and murders your entire team, planting evidence to look like a rival gang did it. As you cower in the corner, tears streaking down your face, Prosciutto whispers an apology and presses a chloroform rag to your nose and mouth. He takes you to his house.

The next day, Prosciutto is holding you against his chest as you cry, even as you hurl frightened profanities about how much you hate him for doing this. He’ll take it all, and remind you calmly everything he does is for your sake. He promises again and again that he loves you, unconditionally.

Prosciutto tries to make things as bearable as possible for you to make up for keeping you captive. He buys you anything you want on a whim, and looks after you when you refuse to look after yourself. He encourages you to find new interests, since your life is no longer dominated by Passione’s orders and you can be yourself again.

As much as he wishes, he can’t let you leave the house, except on closely supervised trips in the dead of night where you can’t possibly be spotted. If Passione were to find out you were alive all along, they would surely have both of you killed. Prosciutto dreams that one day, perhaps when La Squadra has the status they deserve, he can give you the freedom he owes you. Maybe then you will find it in you to forgive his betrayal.

Pesci

Pesci is certainly not the type to resort to the extreme actions of a yandere unless he felt truly desperate. It’s for this reason he becomes a yandere for someone he has an existing relationship with.

Pesci didn’t think he would find love at all now he worked for Passione, especially not a squad as feared as La Squadra. And yet the stars aligned and brought him you- a wonderful, kind-hearted civilian he met by chance and began a steady, loving relationship with. Several months in, the pair of you couldn’t be happier together.

There was just one thorn in this relationship threatening to bring it all down: you didn’t know that Pesci was a mobster. He couldn’t bear to tell you. Would you hate him? Fear him? He didn’t want to even think about it. All he could do was hold you tight and pray, pray to whatever would listen, that the two of you could be like this forever.

What made Pesci’s worst dreams true was a simple, awful coincidence. You were out shopping alone, when, across the street, you spotted your boyfriend headed in the other direction. Pleasently surprised, you chased after him and called out, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Not giving up, you followed him into an alleyway, and what you saw turned your stomach.

There on the ground was the writhing body of an injured man. Above him, stood Pesci and a stranger, a tall, well-dressed blond man who spoke to your boyfriend with an air of authority. As you watched in horror, the stranger took a knife to the injured man’s throat while your boyfriend watched emotionlessly. You turned tail and ran.

By the time Pesci gets home, you have already gone through everything. His phone, his diary, his checkbook. You know everything, and you can’t stand to be a part of it any longer. With tearful eyes, you announce you are leaving. If he doesn’t want to be turned in to the police, he won’t try and stop you.

Pesci panics. He can’t let you go! Can’t! You’re the first person who has ever loved him! In a brief act of fear, Pesci hits you over the head to stop you leaving. He’s knocked you unconscious.

Dismayed at his actions and cradling your body in his arms, Pesci breaks down crying. But then he makes a decision. He regrets that it came down to hurting you, but he isn’t letting you go. He isn’t letting his love leave him. When you wake up, you’re in Pesci’s apartment, tied to the bed with a gag in your mouth. As much as it hurts him to hear your distress, Pesci forces himself to hold to his promise. He isn’t letting himself lose you.

Pesci comforts you as best he can, but knows it could be a long time before you trust him again. He explains his actions whenever you show signs of sadness, and tries to tell stories of his team that will paint them in a better light. He knows deep down, however, that what he’s done is unforgiveable.

Should the day come when your bitterness finally disappears, and Pesci can trust you full-heartedly not to tell anyone of what he really does, he is more than happy to return all your normal freedoms. You can even return to living part-time in your old house, if it helps. Just remember, should you ever abuse this freedom to try and flee, don’t think he won’t hunt you down. Pesci swore to himself he wouldn’t let himself lose you, and that promise doesn’t end now your original abduction is over.

[fusrodie]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

chapter 1 - grisly reunions

SFW, canon-typical violence, blood, mention of death. 2K words.

link to ao3 (or read down below)

Nothing ever happened in this boring old village. Every day he would wake up to the same dull sky, the biting cold on his skin, the smell of blood in the air. And the chanting, for fuck’s sake, the goddamn chanting. In the silence of night, you could hear them if you listened close enough. Even cooped up in his factory, trying to focus on bringing his latest creation to life, through the humming of engines and rattling of pistons, he could hear their voices pleading forgiveness and salvation.

It paints a perfect picture in his mind: a bunch of old farts holding hands in a circle, standing over a creepy-ass painted crest of an unborn baby, pouring their heart and soul into their prayer, accepting death and giving glory to their murderer. The prayer itself never made sense to him, not really, but he had to admit it was a damn good way of justifying their atrocities. Nobody batted an eyelash when someone was taken away, went poof overnight to never return. Something about the sacrifice having been made, fate had led them to the light at the end or some shit. It used to fascinate him back in the day, when he was just a child watching everything unfold hidden behind his mother’s skirt. But he was no longer a child, and after almost a century of bullshit, it was hard not to impale every single fucker who talked about devotion and destiny.

Not that anyone would care about it, of course - sister dearest routinely kidnapped girls from the village and no one seemed to notice the Castle was a death trap. Boxes and boxes of wine would make their way into the village and out into the world, the truth right there in the label, and no one seemed to put two and two together. Dimitrescu had offered him more than a few bottles as a courtesy, an attempt to bridge the gap between them - even he had limits, however, lines that he would not cross. The very thought of bringing a goblet of blood-infused wine to his lips made his stomach turn; he had never been one to experiment much with food. He drew the line on frozen pizza and energy drinks.

It’s a wonder the village still had people in it, really; between Alcina’s obsession with maidens, the poor sods taken to Moreau for Cadou experiments and the failed vessels Miranda would discard like common garbage, he figured at this point there were more lycans than people around. More for him to experiment on, he figured, though digging up corpses in the dead of night had done a number on his back. Haulers could only do so much, and more often than not he would have to get his hands dirty. Not having a proper bed, sleeping on a bare metal cot and decades of living on borrowed time had nothing to do with it, of course.

The Castle drawbridge lowered as he approached, hammer thrown over his shoulder, one last peaceful drag of his cigar before he was thrown into yet another boring council meeting. The vineyard greeted him with the bleak vibrancy of a cemetery, scarecrows drained of color, barely recognizable but eerily preserved in chunks of ice. A waste of perfectly good specimens, really.

The halls were quiet for a change, no tormented screams and blood-curling wails, no giggling sisters running around in the hallways. It all smelled of death and old people, expensive perfume and a good dose of arrogance.

He flashed a charming smile at one of the Castle’s servants, laughing when the girl turned a bright shade of red and scrambled away from him. Heisenberg could hear the bickering as he pushed the doors open, Angie’s joints clicking incessantly as the doll moved about. Moreau’s breathing sounded as loud and disgusting as ever, yellow teeth and the smell of a polluted riverbed with a hint of fish. There they were, his beloved little family, waiting patiently for him, staring at him like he had fucked every single one of their mothers.

“You are late, Heisenberg.” Alcina began, as she always did, eyebrow raised in contempt. “As always. Mother,” she turned to Miranda, gesturing towards him with her hoity-toity, stupid cigarette.

“You are obnoxious, Dimitrescu.” He replied without sparing her a glance. “As always.”

He could practically hear her seething as she finally placed her humongous backside on her chair, having given up on chastising him when Miranda paid both of them no mind. Mother sat at the end of the golden-trimmed table, looking awkward in her great black gown and modly crow wings. Dimitrescu’s finest china was laid perfectly for their little afternoon tea party, cup handles that were too big to fit his fingers, minuscule spoons that were fit for Angie’s creepy hands. The servant that had scurried away at the sight of him had come back with a tray of hot tea, biscuits and blood - the house’s specialty. Miranda began speaking as the girl poured her drink, some small chitchat about the state of the village, the influx of foreigners and progress on her grand resuscitation project.

“Thank you darling, but I brought my own.” He started as the girl circled around the table to serve him, pointing down towards his belt buckle to the whiskey flask he always carried around. She couldn’t help but look down, and then up at his sly smile, the blush returning to her cheeks in full force. Dimitrescu’s reaction was swift, a well placed slap with the back of her hand square on the girl’s cheek. He felt sorry for her for a moment, but it was good training - if she wanted to survive the Castle, she would have to learn that it was better to be blind and deaf, and that she had much more provocation coming her way than his harmless flirting.

Heisenberg tuned out of the conversation as he poured his whiskey, pinching the teaspoon between his index and middle fingers, swirling it slowly, scraping the sides of the porcelain. Alcina’s displeasure at his use of her china for such vile beverages made it all the better. He slurped it loudly to add insult to injury, savoring the drink for a second, sloshing it around his mouth before swallowing, a satisfied “ah” escaping him when the liquor burned down his throat. If Alcina didn’t already look like a corpse, he felt like she would have turned purple. When he unceremoniously shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, crumbs falling all over the tablecloth, he thought she would vomit.

“The latest vessel, unfortunately, has been a failure.” Miranda announced with sadness in her voice, which prompted all of his other siblings to sigh collectively in sympathy. What a bunch of morons. “However, we have made some progress. It seems my theories were correct - younger subjects are far more receptive to the Cadou.” Kidnap babies, got it. There was no limit to how low Miranda would get to fuel her quest for a daughter that had been dead for longer than she was alive. “I regret to say there are no suitable infants at the moment,” she stopped to sip at her tea. “We can only hope the harvest fares better in the coming months.” Had she seen them as nothing but guinea pigs back then, too? No doubt in his mind she did. The only reason she kept them around is because she might not be able to kill all of the monsters she created - better to keep them close than risking losing it all.

“There is but one more matter I would like to discuss, Mother Miranda,” Dimitrescu began, a lilt in her voice, the telltale sign that whatever would come out of her mouth next would be positively foul. “My girls have brought me troubling news.” Troubling, he repeated to himself, but she had a smile on her face as she said it. Miranda gestured at her to continue, which she gladly did, excitement rising with every new word. “It would seem a monster prowls near our blessed haven. There is talk among the villagers of bodies being found drained of blood, organs harvested, but without a single cut left behind.” She stood up to pace the room, one of her favorite displays of grandiose that made her look like the world’s biggest buffoon. It suited her. “At first I believed this to be a mere rumor, a lycan attacking the livestock, a corpse refusing to rest. But then,” she clapped her hands, the doors to the room promptly opening to give way to Crazy, Dumb and Ugly, giggling in their flowing black dresses, dragging a corpse along like it was a treasure they had found in the forest. Angie tagged along with their excitement, pushing Moreau away to get a better look at the stinking body thrown onto the hardwood.

There was no mistaking the lycan, all teeth, claws and complexion of the finest of silver poisonings. It smelled just as bad dead than it did alive; bruises and injuries and gums that stuck out of its mouth. How, pray tell, was this thing still in one piece? Heisenberg rose to take a closer look, pushed its stringy hair away from its face to reveal glassy eyes poking weirdly out of their sockets. He tested its consistency with a slight kick, stabbed it with the butter spreader, shoved a gloved hand in the cut to pull it apart and open. It looked fresh enough, but nothing but a foul vapor oozed out of the body. Crystal dust lined its insides, shards poking out of muscles. He pushes his arm deeper, feels around the chest cavity to find nothing.

“No cuts, no holes,” he begins as he pokes and prods. “No bites, either. Heart’s missing. This your handiwork, Alcina?” Heisenberg quips, suspicion seeping through his stoic facade. For a moment, he swears he can see the lycan’s flesh pulse, the smallest contraction of a muscle. This whole situation got weirder by the second.

“The technique is truly admirable, is it not?” She offers with a gleeful smile, picks up her cigarette and places a hand on her hip. Here we go again. “I simply must have it. Besides, we must know if it poses any threat to us.” She was right, this time. After decades of experimentation, none of them had ever managed to keep an infected subject whole after death.

His shoulders slumped as she spoke, head bowing to hide his discontentment behind the brim of his hat. He knew what this meant: being sent on a stupid adventure in the ass-end of the woods, because he was the only one out of this freak show with the brain and brawn to venture out into the world in broad daylight, without dying to the cold or stopping every five seconds to infect and pet wild animals. Some of these missions he did enjoy, like being sent to nearby towns for special supplies - or special victims. He was never gone long, nor would he stray far, but those escapades never failed to serve as a reminder that he had a reason to keep going, that maybe one day he would be free and the world would be his to explore.

The four of them eyed Miranda quietly, waiting for the verdict that was certain to come. Moreau cut the silence by volunteering to investigate, the pathetic pitter-pat of his feet filling the room when Mother smiled at him.

“I would not risk you in such a way, my son,” she patted his head without a hint of affection. “Not when we are so close to answers. You must continue your research - Heisenberg will look into this… Whatever it is. You are dismissed.” Her tone was nonchalant, her confidence rock solid. This was merely an obstacle, not real danger. At least, that is what she wanted them all to see; if one looked close enough, they would notice the slight furrow in her brow through the slits of the golden mask.

“As you wish, mother.” He tipped his hat before taking his leave, chewing on his unlit cigar, feet pressing hard against the gravel underneath.

Heisenberg never thought he would come to regret having a proper spine and a functional pair of legs.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I don't think anyone had requested this yet. Can we get Darla x Jo First kiss🥺🥺 Does two needs a route😍😍

Thank you in an advance🥰

They are studying for a test when it suddenly hits Darla that Jo is nothing like a pretty flower. A flower is small, fickle, subject to the wind and the rain and people struck by a sudden desire to pluck them and let them wilt right afterwards.

No, Jo isn’t like that. She’s sweet and gorgeous yet elegant and composed, the kind of beauty that it’s impossible to hold in your arms; Darla looks at her and feels like she’s looking at a faraway star, at all her dreams and hopes. The world’s happiness gleams in Jo’s eyes, and Darla is afraid to stare at them for long for fear that she’ll disappear, nothing but a figment of Darla’s imagination.

A woman like Jo is too perfect to be real. Far too perfect.

“Darla?” Jo asks in that silky soft voice of hers.

“Oh! Yeah?”

“You are spacing out again.”

Jo sounds far from reproachful, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. Darla gives herself a second to admire her - the curve of her shoulders, the deep brown of her eyes, the green and gold and red that she wears so, so wonderfully - and averts her gaze.

“Sorry, I... I guess I’m not on the right headspace today,” Darla says, shrugging slightly, and I’m too distracted because you are right by my side goes unsaid.

“That is okay. I’m not too focused either.”

Darla looks at the notebook filled with notes under Jo’s arm and hums. “Is that so?”

Jo leans slightly forward, smile still in place, to cover the notebook. The movement makes her blazer expose more of her neck, and suddenly Darla forgets how to breathe. The dark-haired girl must know the effect she’s having, surely, because there’s something soft and pleased in her eyes.

“Yes,” the princess says easily. “Perhaps our minds would clear with a walk?”

Darla blinks, surprised when the almost flirty demeanor is still there, and wonders just how lovesick she must be for her imagination to project this so bad.

“P-perhaps.”

“Then let us go. You mentioned the other day you wanted to show me a place to eat?”

The situation screams ‘date’. Darla’s denial screams ‘no way’.

“I did,” she manages to get out. “It’s a very classy place. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

She almost faints when she gets up and Jo slips an arm around Darla’s, movement practiced and smooth and Darla wonders if Jo does this with all of her friends or if she’s a special case, and then smothers the thought because of course she isn’t. How could she ever capture the attention of a star?

“I have something I’d like to say,” Jo says, and Darla almost has to make out her words under the thundering storm of her beating heart.

“I’m listening.”

“You are an amazing person, Darla.”

“Most people would disagree.”

“Not when they see the real you, no.”

Darla bits her lip to avoid confessing only Jo sees this side of her. “Just ask FMC. She’d have a lot to say about it.”

“She did.”

“Wait, you already talked-”

“And,” Jo continues, “I’ve decided that my impression of you is the true one. You are a rose, Darla, you have more than just thorns. Also, you seem happier when you are with me, so I have to ask... do you... do you like me? As more than a friend, I mean.”

Jo averts her gaze more and more throughout the talk, while Darla discovers how it truly feels to have her face on fire, her whole soul caught between her heart and her throat and feeling like it might explode.

“I- well, I-”

There’s a lot to process here. Too many feelings to properly express. Darla has no idea how to even begin to decipher them, let alone to talk about them, but she might as well wing it.

So before Jo gets the wrong idea - and before their bubbly relationship shatters due to a misunderstanding - Darla fumbles to remember how her hands work and shakily brings Jo’s hand to rest it over her heart, cheeks red with shy embarrassment.

“That’s my heart every time I listen to you. E-everytime I look at you. I’m... I’m fairly sure you claimed it for yourself the first time I saw you.”

Jo stares at her, eyes wide with abrupt panic. “Oh! No! I would never steal your heart, I-”

Darla laughs, perhaps too loud. Thank god there are no students nearby. “Figure of speech.”

She didn’t imagine this is how her confession would go. A train wreck had more grace.

“Oh.”

Darla isn’t sure, but she imagines a small blush is slowly making its way over Jo’s cheeks.

“W-well,” Darla starts, acutely aware of Jo’s hand on her chest and its heat and its weight and oh god why is it making her dizzy, how the hell did they make it seem easy and romantic on the movies. Darla needs to salvage the situation and fast. “M-maybe you didn’t claim it. It’s more fair to say I saw you and suddenly my heart decided it was yours. Take it?”

“So you do like me?” Jo asks, softly.

“More than I know how to express.” Since when did she get this sappy? Is this what Jo does to her?

“Okay,” the other girl murmurs, reaching for Darla’s free hand and placing it over her own heart, and it’s incredible how Darla’s whole body freezes at the fast, strong beat of Jo’s heart. “My heart also decided it was yours. T-take it?”

Darla leans in, slightly, wondering when she’ll wake up from this dream. It’s been several minutes and Jo still hasn’t vanished like smoke.

“May I?” She asks, eyes on Jo’s lips.

“Please.”

Their lips met with the promise of hearts under their hands, brief but sweet, and they both shift their position almost in sync. Jo throws both arms around Darla’s neck to pull her closer for another kiss, and Darla manages to react fast enough to rest her hands on Jo’s hips and marvels at how soft and warm she is.

“This is not a dream, is it?” Darla hesitantly asks once they separate for air.

“I hope not,” Jo says. “I’d hate to gather the courage to ask you if you like me again.”

They are outside of the university, near the forest, when it hits Darla that this is all real. And she’s glad it is.

[dreaming-in-alicante]

Chapter four is up! Sorry about the longer wait, life was busy.

Also @fair-but-wilde-child here you go!

Chapter 4: Reflux

Grace paused repeatedly to drink in the sights and sounds of the Shadow Market around her as she followed Christopher around to different stalls. He got the nightshade he had wanted, as well as a variety of other ingredients.

“Mr. Lightwood!” a werewolf man called as they approached his stall. “We’ve just gotten fresh thorn-apple in.” He rummaged around in a cart and pulled out some samples, and placed them out for Christopher to inspect. The vendors all seemed to know him, and it was impressive watching him haggle for each item. Grace didn’t know if she would have the patience to argue with someone for that long, but Christopher knew exactly what he was doing.

While he negotiated a price on the thorn-apple Grace began, already, to mentally prepare herself for the ride back. With Christopher. Alone. She had felt like a fool earlier, even if Christopher remained oblivious. The realization had slowly crept up on her in the past few days that she might want to be more than friends with him.

She had become closer with both Lucie and Kamala in recent weeks. Kamala had shared her birth name with her; Grace was very honored that she wanted Grace to be one of the few people who used that name. Something had been bothering Grace, however, whenever she thought about and compared her new friendships. She realized that her relationship with both girls felt much different than that with Christopher. At first she attributed this to the fact that since they spent so much time together in the lab, she was simply closer with him than either girl. But she had spent plenty of time with both Lucie and Kamala now. Whenever she was with them, it seemed that more were always merrier, but she never felt that way with Christopher. While Grace didn’t necessarily mindHenry being in the lab (he was truly a brilliant scientist), or Thomas on his occasional visits, she greatly preferred when it was just the two of them.

The most obvious sign that something was different, however, was that she had started to notice Christopher in a way that she didn’t with either girl, or anyone else really. Earlier that week, while she watched him talk with Henry, the unexpected thought went through her head that he was really incredibly handsome. One might not notice at first, with his thick glasses and messy appearance, but now that Grace had noticed, she was constantly aware. It was starting to get ridiculous. When he had grabbed her arm excitedly earlier that morning, she told herself firmly that her heart was only racing because he had pulled her into a jog to get downstairs. Then in the carriage, by the Angel…she was grateful he thought her flushed face was from being too warm. She had never thought about how close people were when sitting in a carriage. Not that she hadn’t been close to him before, when they looked over notes together, but that was in the huge space of the lab. Enclosed in the small space of the carriage, it felt so intimate. Grace was determined to keep her composure on the return trip. She treasured her friendship with Christopher and she was terrified to ruin it by being ridiculous.

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

When Christopher was completed with his shopping and they started back to the carriage, Grace cleverly engaged him in what promised to be a long discussion about the chemical properties of nightshade. Beyond being an interesting subject in itself, Grace expected that it would keep her mind occupied. Everything was going exactly as planned until Christopher paused to double-check his list and purchases, and Grace forced her eyes away, watching the city pass in dimly-lit nighttime. As the carriage approached the end of the block, she frowned as she noticed an odd, pulsing red glow that seemed to come from around the corner.

“Christopher, do you see that strange light?” she asked, still studying the view outside.

“Most peculiar,” he said as he also looked out. “Perhaps a colored light cover?” They finally reached the intersection, and Grace noticed that it was oddly empty. Not that many people were out at that time of night, but it was unusual to see absolutely no one. And then, as they passed through the intersection, they finally saw that the light came from a figure in the middle of the street dodging and fighting something…demons! The darting figure must be a shadowhunter.

“Anna,” Christopher said suddenly, going a bit pale. He motioned the carriage to stop and was jumping out before Grace understood what was happening. His sister, of course – her unusual red necklace that glowed when demons were around, Grace realized, hence Christopher’s urgency to go help. She hopped out of the carriage to find Christopher with a seraph blade already blazing. “I have to go help – Come help if you feel ready, but otherwise probably best to stay in the carriage!” he told her hastily, then began running down the street towards the fighting.

Grace took in the scene at the end of the street. Anna and someone else – Kamala she realized – were holding off three demons that resembled giant scorpions with wrinkled faces. Anna fought to keep two at bay, her electrum whip arcing furiously through the air, while Kamala attacked the third and largest demon. A fourth demon laid dying on the street near them. The creatures were ridiculously fast – especially their long, barbed tails which moved almost too swiftly to see. As Grace watched, Christopher reached them, seraph blades blazing, and engaged one of the demons that Anna held back.

Grace felt frozen. She had so little experience fighting, she had only been training for a few months, but she had spent too much of her life on the sidelines already. Grace resolved to get closer to offer help, but keep out of everyone’s way. She had two daggers, which seemed pitiful compared to the monsters before her, but she was an excellent shot, especially with her skills enhanced by an Accuracy rune – she would make her throws count.

She raced down the street, pulling out a dagger. As she approached the battle, she saw Kamala falter, barely knocking away the demon’s tail as it simultaneously grabbed at her with its oddly monkey-like hands. Anna and Christopher were fighting side-by-side, too far away to help. Grace reacted faster than she realized she was capable of, sending her dagger flying with perfect precision into a bulbous yellow eye. The demon hissed, writhing, as Kamala called “Good throw!” and continued to attack it.

Grace was upon the battle now and planned to hang back and wait for an opening, when from the corner of her eye she saw a fifth demon appear, looming behind Christopher. She began running in his direction and swiftly drew her second dagger as she shouted, “Kit, behind you!”.

She struck true again, halting the demon as Christopher turned. Anna lashed out her whip, catching the attention of the demon Christopher had been battling as he engaged the new foe. Grace hastily pulled her seraph blade and named it. She came up behind the demon and, with it distracted by Christopher, took a swipe. The tail moved so quickly that although she aimed for the center, her strike only cut off the very needle-like tip. The demon whirled around hissing and, to her dismay, knocked Christopher clean off his feet with its lashing tail. It bore down on Grace, snapping sharp teeth. She defended with her seraph blade but was unable to land a hit on it. She was vaguely aware that Kamala had now joined Anna, having dispatched the largest demon.

The demon Grace fought suddenly shrieked and stumbled, and she saw that Christopher had gotten back to his feet, and successfully cut off a large part of its tail. This was distraction enough for Grace to drive her seraph blade into the demon’s chest. It collapsed with a final hiss, spraying ichor from its wound, and crumbled to dust. Christopher quickly went to help fight the remaining two demons, Grace following behind. With the odds now turned four-to-two, they made quick work of the remaining demons. Soon all that remained were piles of dust and the four shadowhunters breathing hard as they recovered.

“Well,” Anna said as she coiled her whip, “a much more exciting patrol than I anticipated. It appears Kamala and I disturbed a nest of them. We are lucky that you two showed up when you did.” She leveled an assessing gaze at her brother and Grace. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but what exactly are you two doing running around together at this hour?” she asked.

“Shadow market,” Christopher answered, “I was out of nightshade, and Grace had never gone there.” He stood a bit awkwardly, and Grace wondered if he was alright.

“Well we’re very grateful for your assistance,” Kamala said, shaking dust out of her long braid. “Excellent job for your first real demon fight Grace!” she said smiling, and Grace smiled back. Anna and Christopher also offered congratulations. Grace couldn’t wait to tell Jesse – he’d be proud of her. She thought also, he’ll be jealous I killed my first demon before he did, and smirked.

“Well, let’s head to my flat, it’s not far. We should get all this ichor off,” Anna declared “and perhaps some iratzes.” Grace’s front was quite covered in ichor, and Anna and Kamala were also a mess. Somehow, ever-untidy Christopher had ended the battle with the least-soiled clothing. Anna looked appraisingly at her brother. “Are you feeling alright, Kit?” she asked, clearly noting his stiff posture like Grace had earlier.

“I believe I will need a few iratzes,” he replied, wincing, holding a hand to his side. “I likely didn’t notice earlier with all the adrenaline, but it seems the demon’s tail did catch me quite hard in the ribs.”

Grace couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty. If only she had been faster, managed to cut off the tail…but no, she assured herself, she had done well. The others had all said so. She had done well with her daggers and held her own in the fight. Christopher would be fine after a few iratzes. Still, she couldn’t help aiming worried glances his way the entire carriage ride.

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

Anna’s flat was small but cozy, the main room full of mismatched furniture. Anna got water and rags for them to clean off with, then started fussing over Christopher. Kamala, obviously familiar with the place, pulled Grace into a messy bedroom. “I think I have a spare blouse here that you can wear,” she said, “since you got most of the ichor on the front of you.” She rummaged around in the wardrobe and pulled out a pale blue blouse with a triumphant “aha!”

They cleaned themselves off and began changing. Kamala was several inches taller than Grace so the blouse was oversized on her, but it would do until she got home. She slipped out of the bedroom while Kamala finished putting on a simple dress, and reentered the main room.

Anna brushed past her, going to change, and Grace walked around to the couch…where she found Christopher wearing only his trousers and undershirt. It covered him, of course, but it was a thinner material that she could see marks through, and because the sleeves were short, she could see most of his arms. By the Angel, stop staring! she scolded herself. She had seen him in just shirtsleeves many times in the lab. She had seen more of his arms the time his sleeve caught fire in lab than right now.

“You’re alright then, Grace?” he asked. She forced her eyes to his face, and immediately discovered this was not better. He had removed his glasses, presumably while getting cleaned up, and now there was no barrier to hide his spectacular eyes. Compose yourself Grace! she chided herself.

“Yes, I’m completely fine,” she replied, settling herself on an armchair. “Nothing more than some scratches. Are you okay?” His movements were less stiff as he leaned forward a bit, but she was still concerned.

“Perfectly fine!” he answered blithely. “Anna’s iratzes are fixing me right up. Honestly, I’ve had much worse lab accidents.” Given what she’d seen just this month in the lab, Grace didn’t doubt this. She could see evidence of old burns and other scars along the whole length of his exposed arms.

“What was your worst lab accident?” she asked curiously.

“Perhaps the time I spilled an entire bottle of sulfuric acid on myself,” Christopher said thoughtfully, “although there have also been some nasty explosions.”

Kamala reentered the main room then. “Anna and I will need to head to the institute to check in and submit a report,” she told Grace, “so we can drop you at your apartment.”

“Thank you,” Grace replied. “Hopefully I’ll be back soon enough that Jesse won’t be worrying.”

“He’ll always be worrying – he’s an older sibling,” Anna said, now changed into a plain shirt and trousers. “Speaking of which,” she continued, “let me see if you need another iratze before we leave, Kit.”

Grace got up quickly – perhaps too quickly – and started over to the door to wait. She kept her gaze determinedly away from Christopher as Anna checked him over. Kamala joined Grace, a querying eyebrow raised. Grace could not help blushing, which caused Kamala to giver her a knowing smirk, making Grace blush even harder.

“I think we’ll have something to talk about at training tomorrow,” Kamala said with a grin. Grace was relieved when Anna joined them to leave. She insisted that Christopher just stay at the apartment to sleep, and he was tired enough that he agreed.

It was a surprisingly pleasant ride home. Grace had little prior interaction with Anna, but either because of Christopher, Kamala, Jesse, or a combination of the three, she did not seem to resent or distrust Grace for any of her prior actions, which was a relief. They dropped her at home and as they exchanged goodbyes, Anna commented “I expect I’ll see more of you in the future Grace,” Anna said, “as my brother’s lab partner.” She winked at Grace before hopping back into the carriage.

By the Angel, Grace thought, how does she know?Well, at least Christopher remained oblivious.