#it's been such a journey watching them grow and even through many changes they are still so meaningful to me

[chestersturniolo]

𝑼𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

In which; a sudden surprise throws your life with Matt into chaos, setting you both on an uncharted journey that changes everything.

-

Warnings; unplanned pregnancy, angst , fluff, use of y/n, use of pet names.

•••••••••••••••

You had been trying to ignore the nagging feeling for days. Your period was late—by just a few days—but late enough to make you uneasy. You and Matt had talked about your future together so many times, imagining what your life would look like one day. But not today. Today was supposed to be like any other day. But your mind wouldn’t let it rest. As much as you tried to convince yourself that everything was fine, that it was just stress or a fluke, you couldn't shake the worry.

Matt had gone out to film, leaving you alone in the house. The silence felt heavy, like it was daring you to confront your fears. You decided, almost on autopilot, that you had to take a test. Just to put your mind at ease. It was just to check. It wasn’t real, not yet.

With trembling hands, you retrieved the small box from the bathroom cabinet. You stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours, trying to muster the courage to do something you weren't sure you wanted to know the answer to. The seconds dragged on as you stared at the test, waiting for the results.

And then, there it was. A positive.

A surge of panic swept over you. You felt your breath hitch as the reality began to sink in. You weren’t ready for this. You and Matt had dreams and plans—none of which involved this happening right now. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

You could feel the tears welling up, hot and uncontrollable, as the enormity of the situation hit you. You sank to the floor, your back against the cold bathroom wall, hugging your knees as sobs racked through your body. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of fear, doubt, and a future you couldn’t see anymore. You loved Matt, and you knew he loved you, but this was different. This was something you hadn’t planned for, something you didn’t feel ready for. What would he say? How would he react?

The minutes felt like hours, and you were so lost in your spiral of panic that you didn’t hear Matt come home. You didn’t hear him calling your name as he moved through the house, growing more worried with every unanswered call.

Finally, he reached the bathroom. You didn’t even register the door opening or his voice calling your name until you saw his reflection in the mirror. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, curled up on the floor, tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?! What happened?!” His voice was laced with panic as he dropped to his knees beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

You wanted to answer him, to tell him everything, but the words were stuck, choked by your sobs. You tried to speak, but all that came out were more tears.

“Please, say something, what’s going on, talk to me, please!” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any clue as to what had shattered you like this.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, the fear and uncertainty too much to bear. All you could do was lift your hand, holding out the pregnancy test for him to see.

Matt’s eyes flickered down to the test, his expression shifting from confusion to shock. He stared at it, his mouth slightly open, trying to process what he was seeing.

You watched him, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for his reaction. Your mind raced with a million possibilities, none of them good. Would he be angry? Disappointed? Would he leave?

But as you watched, something changed in his eyes. The initial shock gave way to something softer. He set the test down beside you, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently.

“Hey, hey, look at me-” he whispered, his voice calm and steady. “-It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You finally looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears, and saw nothing but love and concern in his eyes. No anger, no disappointment —just him, the man you loved, who had always been there for you.

“i know we didn’t plan for this, but we’ll figure it out. Together.” he said, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“i’m so scared Matt” you whisper 

Matt lets out a small sigh whilst nodding his head.

 “I’m scared too baby, but I’m right here with you, and we’re going to get through this.”

You nodded, feeling a tiny bit of the crushing weight on your chest lift. It was still terrifying, still overwhelming, but you weren’t alone. Matt was here, and you would face this unexpected future together.

He pulled you close again, holding you tightly as your sobs began to quiet. Matt places a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, y/n-” he murmured into your hair. “-and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice still slightly shaky.

In that moment, on the bathroom floor, with the future suddenly so different from what you had imagined, you held on to each other, knowing that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

•••••••••••

Time had a funny way of moving forward, whether you were ready for it or not. The weeks had turned into months, and the initial shock of finding out you were pregnant had gradually been replaced by something else—something warmer, more certain. You and Matt had talked endlessly, sharing your fears, your hopes, and slowly, the idea of becoming parents had settled into your hearts.

Now, here you were, lying in bed together on a quiet evening, the only light in the room was given by the warm bedside lamp. Your shirt was pulled up to your chest, revealing the small, but unmistakable, curve of your growing belly. Matt’s hands were resting gently on your stomach, his fingers tracing light patterns across your skin.

He’d been so attentive since the moment you’d told him you were pregnant. Every day, he seemed more in awe of the changes happening to your body, and every night, he would do exactly this—rubbing your belly, letting you know without words that he was right there with you every step of the way.

As he continued to caress your belly, Matt shuffled down slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the bump. Watching him made your heart swell. He rested his head gently beside your belly, his hand still splaying it, as if he could protect the tiny life growing inside.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, savoring the moment, you felt it—a faint flutter. You gasped softly, your hand flying to where Matt’s was.

“Matt” you whispered with wide eyes. “I think… I think the baby just moved”

Matt’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with yours for a brief second before he looked back down at your belly. 

“Really?!” he whisper shouts as his lips part into a wide grin.

You both stayed completely still, holding your breath in anticipation, and then there it was again—a little kick, gentle but unmissable. You saw Matt’s eyes widen, his face lighting up like you’d never seen before. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I felt it. I actually felt it.”

He pressed another kiss to your belly, this time more lingering. Barely pulling away, his lips close to your skin, he started speaking softly to your stomach, his voice full of love and warmth.

“Hey there, little one-” he murmured, his hand gently moving in circles on your belly. 

“-It’s Daddy. I’ve been waiting to feel you move for so long. You’ve made Mommy and me so happy and we can’t wait to meet you. We love you soooooo much”

You couldn’t help but watch him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. Matt’s excitement, his genuine love for the baby you were carrying, made you realize that despite the fear and uncertainty you’d felt when you first found out, everything had turned out just as it should be. 

You hadn’t thought you were ready, but in this moment, you knew you couldn’t be more ready.

This was perfect. Everything was perfect.

You reached down, running your fingers through Matt’s hair as he continued to talk to your belly, telling the baby all about the adventures you three would have together. Your wide grin matched his, and as you looked at him, all you could feel was love.

“I love you,” you whispered, feeling like you needed to say it, even though he already knew.

Matt lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes shining with tears he wasn’t bothering to hide anymore.

 “I love you too,” he said softly, his hand still resting on your belly where your baby had just kicked.

And in that moment, with your family already beginning to take shape, you knew that the future—this unexpected, wonderful future—was exactly what you wanted. 

You and Matt were ready, and whatever came next, you would face it together, just like you had from the very beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N; i love writing fluffiness so much oh my❤️‍🩹 thankyou for reading i hope you enjoyed!!

asks open to come and chat/send Qs/requests!

closing in on 1K followers!?!? (don’t be shy, join us😼)

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a (now ex-ish) plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

Thank you for reading <3

P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor. 

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.

It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,

But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.

You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?

“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”

“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”

What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?

“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”

You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”

You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from  you.

Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?

At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.

—-

Jungkook was the one that saw you first.

It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.

“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”

“Who?”

The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.

You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”

“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”

There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”

Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”

“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”

“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.

“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.

“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”

You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”

Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.

“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.” 

You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.

Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence. 

—

“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”

You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen. 

This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.

Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.

“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.

“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.

“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”

“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”

“I thought we were in this together.”

“You know, like High School Musical.”

He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…

His text stopped going through.

“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.

“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”

Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”

His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him. 

It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would. 

And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.

—

There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.

You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them. 

“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?” 

“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“I bet he was hacked.”

Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you? 

It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.

You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry. 

“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”

That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.

“What are they saying?”

“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.

He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture. 

You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…

Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.

“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.

You… You had never gotten flowers. 

“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”

“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”

“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”

“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”

You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment? 

Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.

“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…” 

He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?” 

You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”

“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”

You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

°•. ✿ .•°

[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ; @kayleefriedchicken ; @jkselcouth ; @ivrose21 ; @svnbangtansworld ]

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 10

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, slight angst, a little fluff, the smallest bit of sexual tension

Word Count: 5.7k

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Enjoy!

Azriel lounged in the chair next to your bed in the River House, his body stiff from lack of movement, his wings drooping onto the floor behind him. Truly, it was his bed, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that fact for too long, for those thoughts led him into dangerous territory.

He couldn’t think about the fact that you, his mate, had been lying in his bed and going in and out of consciousness for the last four days. Even worse, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

After Elain had bathed you, you had fallen back into a deep sleep- a sleep so deep that Azriel had checked your pulse a few times to make sure you were still breathing. You had woken up once, at Madja’s insistence, to eat something. He had watched you eat every last bite, his body screaming at him to protect you, to help you, but there was nothing he could do. But as you ate, you had looked at him, your eyes empty and dark, and offered him some food.

He had denied it, of course, knowing you didn’t know the meaning of such a gesture. He hadn’t missed the look of hurt in your eyes at his denial, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain it all. Not now, at least.

So here Azriel was, in the same spot he had been in for days, watching you sleep. Madja had said that this sleep was good for you, that it was healing you and helping your body recover from the immense amount of power you had used up. Even though he was worried, he had to admit that the color had returned to your skin. There was a soft glow to your features that reminded him of a fire burning behind a pale screen.

He hadn’t noticed that before, back in your world, but you had been glamoured then. Now, he could see the difference in your features. Your face appeared to be more angular, your limbs longer and more toned. Your lovely hair had a healthy sheen to it, and your lips were fuller. A flare of heat spread through his body as he remembered what it felt like to have those soft lips pressed against his.

You were so beautiful, and Azriel’s heart stuttered at the thought of never talking to you or laughing with you again. He had seen the look of pure grief on your face when you had realized Celeste and Lou were gone, ripped away from your life in the worst way. He knew that if you woke up, no when you woke up, you would have to walk through that dark void, but you wouldn’t walk through it alone. He would be here for you, always.

Azriel sighed as he watched his shadows swirl around your sleeping form. They had been just as restless as he was, always swirling around your body, alerting him if your condition changed. “She will wake up,” he murmured to them, his voice quiet. “She has to wake up.”

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, heavy enough that Azriel’s body tensed, ready to shield you from any possible threat. His family had promised him that they meant no harm toward you, though they had many questions about the whole ordeal. He had answered the ones he could, his worried mind straining to remember all of the details.

Still, his body roared with the primal instinct to protect you at all costs.

Azriel’s body eased when he saw Cassian’s massive frame fill the doorway. Out of everyone, he had been the one who had been the calmest, and Az couldn’t thank his brother enough. Cassian had even offered to take shifts watching over you when Azriel could no longer force his eyes to stay open, his body screaming at him to rest.

“Still asleep?” Cass asked, his footsteps now lighter as he made his way toward Azriel. He leaned against the chair, his wings tucked in tight. “Madja said she should wake up any day now.”

Azriel hummed quietly. “I’m starting to wonder if Madja knows what the hell she is talking about.” He did nothing to hide the bitterness in his voice. He knew the healer was skilled, especially after what she had done for Cassian during the War. But you were different, possessing a power that nobody had ever seen.

What if Madja was wrong?

Cassian was silent for a few moments, his face like stone. “Rhys told me.” He paused for a few seconds as if he were contemplating on what to say next. “About her being your mate.”

Az ground his teeth, his shadows moving frantically around his body. “And what about it?” he growled.

Cass held up his hands, his siphons flaring slightly like red flame. “Easy now, Az. I just want you to know that I understand. Rhys does, too,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “We talked about it earlier. Neither of us could imagine what we would do if we were put in your position.”

“Then why does Rhys keep asking questions? Why does he keep insisting on going into her head to see the truth, even though Y/N doesn’t know the truth?” Azriel had stood his ground each time Rhys had walked into the bedroom, asking if he could use his powers to search your memories. Az knew that Rhys meant no harm in it; he was a High Lord who was trying to protect his people. But with the way Rhys’s magic had been affected lately… A shudder ran through Azriel’s body as he thought of what a slip-up on his brother’s part could do to your already traumatized mind.

Cassian looked down at him, his eyes shadowed. “You haven’t asked how bad things got here since you’ve been back.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” was all Az said. He had been too worried about you to ask any questions. Besides, he didn’t think his mind or body could handle any more stress.

Azriel had asked how long he had been gone, and he had been informed that he had practically disappeared for five days. The only thing he had learned so far was that the timeline between the two worlds went at the same pace, which was a useless piece of information that didn’t help him at all.

“I know,” Cassian responded, moving to stand in front of Azriel, who had to fight back a snarl as he blocked you from his sight. “Which is why I came to tell you. You need to know, Az. The unstable magic is affecting Rhys. Badly. It’s getting to Feyre, too. Nesta is too afraid to use her powers, and Elain’s visions are worse than they’ve ever been.” Cassian’s eyes grew darker, and Az had the sense that he was holding something back.

“What aren’t you telling me, Cassian?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Cassian bit his lip, his wings twitching slightly. “It’s not just affecting them. Last night, I went to do a quick inspection of the Illyrian legions.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and Azriel saw that it was shaking. “Some of the Illyrians are unable to control their siphons. Whole camps have been reduced to rubble and ashes due to their magic lashing out, and the camp lords are at their wit’s end.”

Azriel felt as if ice had been poured all over his body. The Illyrians had magic, like the High Fae, but it had always been different. It was used and channeled in different ways, although now that he thought about it, it all came from the same source.

The chill Azriel felt didn’t only have to do with the unstable magic- he could not give less of a fuck about the Illyrians. He hated those people, the ones who had tortured him and brutalized his mother. He would never forgive them for what they had done, and the thought of them destroying their own camps made him want to laugh.

Good riddance, Azriel wanted to say, but the grim look on Cassian’s face made him think better of it. Besides, even though he hated it, he was an Illyrian, just like Cassian, and if the others’ magic had been affected…

“What about your siphons?” Az asked, his voice low and dark. “Have you been affected?”

Cassian shook his head. “Other than being weaker than usual, nothing odd has happened. But I’m assuming it’s only a matter of time.”

The words hung in the air, and the room fell back into silence. Cassian stepped aside, once again allowing Azriel to look at your sleeping form on the bed. You looked so peaceful, completely oblivious to everything that was going on in the world.

Azriel found himself full of envy at the sight.

“It makes sense now,” Azriel said finally, his voice hushed. “When we came through the portal, it was like my magic had been drained. I thought it was due to traveling between worlds, but now…” He trailed off, his eyes on his shadows. They hadn’t been acting particularly strange, other than their obsession with you.

Still, Azriel decided it would be best to keep an eye on them. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like to have a shadowsinger lose control of his own shadows.

Cassian laid a broad hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother,” he said, his usual optimistic tone returning to his voice. “We will figure this out. Gwyn has been searching through the ancient scrolls, and she thinks she might be on the edge of a breakthrough.”

A soft smile graced Azriel’s lips. Gwyn was stubborn, and if anyone could figure out this whole mess, it was her. “I’m glad to hear that.” He paused for a moment as his mind worked. “I will talk to my spies. See if they can find out anything.” In the chaos of the last few days, he hadn’t even bothered to reach out to his spies in the courts.

He didn’t know if any of them were aware he was alive, or if any of them were dead.

“Good idea,” Cassian murmured, taking a deep breath that reminded Azriel of the controlled breathing techniques his brother used before charging into battle. “So… are you going to tell her?” he asked, his voice carrying a smile that Azriel could almost see through the tone alone.

Azriel looked at you, his mind racing. He had thought of all the ways to tell you about the bond, and he had been unable to come up with anything good enough. He was also afraid of the timing. You have just gone through a massive physical and emotional shock, and he worried that the thought of being soul-bound to someone, being bound to him, would be too much.

“Eventually,” was all Azriel said in response.

Cassian hummed quietly as he made for the door. “I wouldn’t keep it from her for too long,” he said with a laugh. “Rhys had the same idea, and you saw how that turned out.”

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian leave the bedroom. So many decisions to make, so many questions to ask. His head was pounding under the weight of it all, so he leaned back in the chair, his eyes once again locked onto you as you slept.

****

You opened your eyes, your lids heavy with sleep. The bedroom was filled with a dim light, the early morning sun softening all of the harsh edges. You blinked against that light, running your tongue over your dry lips.

Thankfully, you didn’t have any more strange dreams. You had only been met with a peaceful and serene darkness as you slept, your body and mind floating into an endless abyss. You wanted to go back there, not ready to face everything that had happened.

But you had never been one to run away when things got hard. You had known struggles, but you had always risen above them. You didn’t know exactly how to rise above this overwhelming sense of grief and pain, but you knew you had to try.

It was the only way you were going to survive.

Slowly, you moved your arms, pressing your palms firmly against the mattress. When you were not met with any pain or soreness, you pushed yourself up, your body moving with surprising ease. You looked around the room, gasping softly as your senses were overwhelmed with… everything.

Everything around you seemed sharper and brighter as if you had been looking through a fuzzy glass window your entire life. You could hear children laughing outside, the murmur of conversations in the distance. Your nose was overwhelmed with a variety of scents- lavender, jasmine, citrus- and your eyes rolled back as you smelled the delicious aroma of food cooking somewhere.

You raised your arms to look at your hands. They might as well have been a stranger’s hands. Your fingers were longer, your skin perfect and without any spots or blemishes. You looked at your palm, eyes searching for that scar you had gotten when you had fallen off a skateboard as a child. You couldn’t stop the ragged gasp that left your lips.  

The scar was gone, replaced by a layer of smooth skin that seemed to glow from within.

You scrambled off the bed, your longer legs getting twisted in the thick blankets. You hit the ground before you could catch yourself, not knowing how to navigate using this foreign body. Your thin nightgown was wound tightly around your legs, and for a moment, you wanted to scream. You felt trapped, totally unable to move, and you couldn’t breathe-

Strong and gentle hands gripped you by the waist, hoisting you back up to your feet. Shadows surrounded your body, as if they were attempting to soothe your discomfort and fear. You raised your face, your eyes squinting against the light.

Azriel’s face was mere inches from yours, his hazel eyes full of concern. This close, you could see a light dusting of freckles on his nose, and you had to fight the urge to trace them with your fingers. “Azzy,” you whispered, your voice foreign to your ears. It sounded different, higher in pitch and tone.

He released a breath, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. He buried his face in your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He was trembling slightly, his wings fluttering behind him. “Fyrvor,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder. “You came back to me.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. You felt your body ease slightly in his embrace. “Where else would I go?” You spoke in a hushed tone, afraid that this was just another strange dream.

But Azriel was very much real, especially in the way his scarred hands moved up your body, his fingers grazing your back and shoulders, stopping once they got to your face. His palms were warm against your skin as he pulled your face up to his. “You’ve been out for days. I was so worried.”

“Do you know how to do anything but worry?” you asked, forcing a small smile to form on your lips, but you knew it didn’t meet your eyes.

Azriel smiled back, though. “I always worry about you. You’re all I think about.” You watched as his eyes moved to your lips, his gaze darkening. The memory of those lips crushed against yours at the ball washed over you, and you felt heat prickle your skin. “How are you feeling?”

Despite your growing desire for him, you took a step back, knowing that you would do something you would regret if you stayed too close. “I feel… strange,” you admitted, once again raising your hands to look at them. “I look strange."

"Do you remember what Madja said?" Azriel asked in a soft voice. “About you not being human?”

You were unable to say anything in response to that, so you only nodded.

Azriel walked over to a dresser in the corner of the bedroom, and you took his momentary distraction to survey the room. You saw the door that led to the bathroom, though your memory of it was murky and dark. The room had a massive four-poster bed, and the twisted bedding atop it was black, paired with silky dark blue sheets. The walls were plain, with no decorations or pictures, and they were painted in a light shade of gray. Though the room was large, it was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs, a nightstand, and a dresser. There was a fireplace along the far wall, its embers burning low.

The style of the bedroom was not feminine, and you suddenly wondered whose bed you had been sleeping in for the past few days. “Where am I?” you asked Azriel, who had grabbed something from the dresser- a small mirror, you realized. “I remember you saying this is the Night Court, but… where exactly?”

A small blush crept up Azriel’s neck as he looked around the room. “This is the River House,” he explained. “It’s the home of Rhys and his mate, Feyre. This is my bedroom.”

You now understood the calming scent that had enveloped you during the short time you had been awake. It was his scent. You had bathed in his bathtub, and you had been sleeping in his bed. Your cheeks started to warm at the realization, so you hastily asked, “Why did you bring me here?”

He tilted his head to the side, and you realized you had asked a loaded question, but you hoped he would ignore it. “If you’re asking why I brought you back to Prythian, it’s because I watched in horror as your entire body went up in flames before my eyes, and I didn’t know if you would live or die.”

Guess he won’t ignore it then, you thought to yourself.

“And I brought you to the River House because I felt you would be more comfortable here than the House of Wind,” he finished, his hazel eyes shadowed. You had the sense that he was leaving out something but, unlike him, you would ignore it. “Does that answer your question?”

“Mostly,” you said with a shrug. “But I assure you, I have a lot more.”

What the hell is a mate? What is a House of Wind? What is wrong with me?

“I know.” Azriel offered the mirror to you, and you silently took it from him. It was small, encased in plain silver, much like the ones back home. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you looked at it- you had expected something more… magical, especially in a world full of magic. “First, I think you should take a look at yourself. Then I will answer any questions you have.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mouth falling open in shock at the woman in the reflection. It was undeniably you, yet subtly transformed. Your face retained its familiar contours, but there was a newfound sharpness- a slight sculpting of your cheekbones and a more defined jawline. Your lips appeared fuller, and your hair was glossier than before.

As you leaned closer, a small detail caught your attention. Your eyes were still the same color, but deep in the depths, you could see a tiny flame flickering, like embers catching fire.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, staggering back from the mirror. It slipped from your grip and shattered onto the floor at your bare feet. “What am I?”

Azriel’s boots crunched on the glass as he caught you in his arms. “You are Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face. “You are changed, but you are still my Y/N.”

Your hands clutched at his leather clothing, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Azriel. There’s fucking flames in my eyes!” You sounded hysteric, but given the circumstances, you didn’t care.

Azriel chuckled softly, and you stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm right now. “I find it rather attractive,” he said plainly.

“Can you be serious? Just for once, can you be serious?” you screamed at him, cementing your words with a hard slap onto his bicep.

Azriel laughed harder this time. “Just a few moments ago, you were wondering if I do anything but worry,” he said through his laughter. “Now you’re yelling at me for being too serious?”

Perhaps it was your body’s reaction from the shock of everything that had happened, but you found yourself laughing too. You smiled up at Azriel, your voice breathless as you murmured, “You’re insufferable, Azzy.”

He ran a thumb gently over your cheek, his calluses running across your skin. “There’s those beautiful dimples,” he whispered as he laid his forehead against yours.

You were suddenly aware of how close he was, his body hard and hot against yours. His shadows swarmed around you as you moved your hands up his arms, lacing them behind his neck. You could feel his warm breath ghosting your cheek as you tilted your face up to his, your eyes searching his for any sign of disgust or hatred.

There was only awe, and something else, something stronger and more passionate. His scent washed over you, muskier and more potent than before. A fire that had nothing to do with the burning ember living inside of your chest spread across your body, and you felt this strange, primal urge to claim him.

“Azriel,” you whispered as you stood on your tiptoes, raising yourself so your lips ghosted across his. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, his skin burning through your thin nightgown. He lifted you up as he moved his head down, his lips so close to yours that you could taste him-

“She wakes,” a female voice drawled from the doorway, full of amusement. “I was starting to question my knowledge of healing.”

You and Azriel sprang apart, both of you breathless as if you had been running. He gently set you down on the floor, and with a firm squeeze on your hips, he stepped away. He turned and faced the woman, his features smooth, all sign of the earlier passion wiped away.

“Madja,” he greeted politely. “I didn’t tell Rhys she had woken up yet.” You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his face, and it was with pure satisfaction that you realized he was upset at being interrupted.

Madja chucked softly. “I heard you two talking,” she stated as she walked into the room. “I figured I should go ahead and do my check-up.” She looked… old, her face filled with wrinkles, but her eyes were clear.  She had pointed ears, dark skin, and wind-blown hair.

Azriel nodded once. “Of course.” He glanced over to you, his eyes wary. “Would… would you like me to stay? If not, I can-“

“Stay. Please,” you said, not caring that you cut him off. The thought of him leaving you made your chest tighten in an almost painful way.

He smiled as he took a seat in the chair next to the bed. His shadows rested along his shoulders and wings, seeming content to sit and watch. He looked at Madja, his eyes gleaming. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Madja rolled her eyes. “Illyrians,” she grumbled as she laid a bag down on the bed. “Such busybodies.”

You bit your lip, struggling to stifle a laugh as you peered into the bag, curious about whether any of the healer’s tools would look familiar. She began pulling out various bottles, each filled with liquids that sparkled and swirled. One was a vibrant green, another was an inky black. You thought you caught a glimpse of a needle and some stitches, but other than that, everything was foreign.

“What are those for?” you asked quietly as you looked at the bottles, your stomach rolling at the thought of having to drink one of them.

Madja raised the one with the black liquid. “This one can reverse the effects of a magical spell, such as being turned into a toad or a dragon.” She pointed at the green one that was still lying on the bed. “That one… Well, it’s quite nasty. It’s for those who are afflicted with ‘Mermaid’s Moan.’ If you get too cozy with sea folk and can’t stop singing sea shanties, this will clear it right up- though I’ve heard it burns like hell and tastes like acid.”

You blinked at her, your mouth open in horror. “Please tell me you’re joking,” you shrieked. “I haven’t been around any spells, and I definitely haven’t been… cozy with sea people!”

Madja lowered the bottle, her face warm and gentle. She laid a hand on your arm. “I’m just joking. I find it makes my patients feel more at ease.” She gestured to the bottles again. “These are sleep and healing potions. Nothing harmless, I can assure you.”

You released a breath and nodded. You had done the same thing many times with your own patients, though your jokes hadn’t been focused on magical potions. You glanced over to Azriel, only to find his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He was enjoying this.

You glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. What? he mouthed to you, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

You smiled sweetly at him as you flipped him off.

“Now,” Madja said, pulling your attention away from the smug shadowsinger, “how are you feeling?”

You paused for a moment, truly letting yourself feel your body and mind. “I feel fine,” you admitted quietly. “As fine as I can be anyway, considering what happened a few days ago.” You assumed Azriel had told Madja everything, and you didn’t feel like explaining it all again.

The healer nodded as she placed a hand on your chin, her dark eyes searching your face. She closed her eyes, and your body was overwhelmed with a strange sweet feeling. It took all of your strength to remain standing as an overwhelming calm washed over your body.

After a few moments, Madja pulled her hand away, and the serene feeling left with it. You swallowed as your mouth was left with a strange, metallic taste, like metal. “Was that… magic?”

“Yes. I was checking your body for any sign of injury or ailments,” she explained. She turned her head to Azriel, her eyes soft as she said, “She is fine. It seems her magic is still recuperating, but other than that, I give her a clean bill of health.”

Azriel let out a breath, and his shadows seemed to relax as well. As much as shadows could relax.  “Thank the Mother,” he mumbled to himself, but your new and improved hearing allowed you to hear him clearly. “Thank you, Madja. For everything.”

Madja only smiled as she started to gather the bottles, placing them carefully back into the bag. “Wait,” you said, placing a hand on her arm. “What am I? You said I wasn’t human, and I can’t think of any other options here.” You shook your head in disbelief, your eyes searching the woman’s face. “You said I have magic, and you’re just going to leave without giving me an explanation?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel lean forward in his chair, his shadows once again swirling restlessly around him. But you kept your eyes locked onto Madja, and you watched as her face grew grim, her eyes shadowed. “I don’t know what you are,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “You aren’t human, but you are unlike any of our kind here in Prythian. There is something… familiar about you, but I can’t place it what it could be. Your magic is strong and powerful, something old and ancient, and a kind that I’ve never faced in my centuries of living. I think you could even rival the High Lords with the amount of power you have.”

You heard Azriel suck in a ragged breath, but you kept your eyes on Madja, your grip like iron on her arm. “I don’t even know what that means,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. No, don’t cry. Don’t let her see how weak you are.

Madja placed her hand on your arm, her palm warm and soft. “I’m sorry I cannot give you a better explanation, my dear,” she murmured. “But don’t fret. I’m not giving up on searching for answers. I just don’t have any right now.” She glanced over to Azriel, her eyes filled with something like exasperation. “Besides, I think that Illyrian of yours is just as curious as I am. If anyone can figure it out, it’s the spymaster.”

Spymaster. Azriel was a fucking spymaster?

Your mind spun with the amount of new information being thrown at you, and you staggered back. You were held steady by a pair of scarred hands, and you sighed as you leaned into Azriel’s body.

How does he move so fast?

“Thank you, Madja,” he said, his deep voice clipped. “We will call for you if anything changes.”

Madja smiled politely, and with a bow of her head, hurried from the room.

You looked up at Azriel. “Spymaster, huh?” you teased. The title fit him. He was so quiet and broody, and you imagined those shadows, whatever the hell they were, would be quite good at helping with stealth.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Non-human but unlike any of our kind here, huh?” he quipped back with a smile.

“Smartass.”

“I’m your smartass, though.” His tone was warm- genuine, even.

You leaned your head back onto his chest, your eyes staring at nothing. “I still have so many questions, Azzy,” you murmured. “None of this makes sense.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your front, his forearms resting politely on your belly. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We will figure all of this out. Together. But first,” he said, his voice darkening slightly, “we need to do something that is far more frightening.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to think of what could be more frightening than figuring out the truth of who you are. “And what’s that?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

Azriel’s arms tightened around your body as his shadows trailed down your arms, as if they were trying to comfort you in preparation for whatever he was going to say. He took a deep breath, his voice vibrating in his chest as he said, “It’s breakfast time, and my family has been dying to meet you.”

****

“You had one fucking job, Mathias,” the female sneered, her features twisted in disgust. “And you failed. Horribly.”

Mathias cowered on the floor, his body tense, ready for whatever punishment was sure to be given to him. His queen was notorious for her punishments, especially the ones given to those who had failed her.

“Please, my queen,” he pleaded, his face pressed down to the floor. Through the reflection of the dark marble he could see his pale face. The piercings he had put back into his nose and ears gleamed in the dim light of the ramshackle throne room. “I was unprepared, that’s all. I didn’t expect-“

“Didn’t expect what?” The queen’s voice was low, full of sinister intent. “Go ahead and say it, you worthless bastard. Say that you weren’t prepared for the amount of power she has.”

Mathias trembled at her words. His queen was powerful, the most powerful person he had ever met. But that woman had unleashed an amount of power that had rattled his bones and burned his veins. He had barely had enough mind left to open a portal back to Prythian during the whole ordeal.

And that fucking shadowsinger- that good-for-nothing Illyrian brute. Mathias was already dreaming of the ways he would make him suffer when he got his hands on the bastard. He couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off his face.

These common Illyrians, always thinking they are better than everyone else. Little did they know-

“Perhaps I should get rid of you,” his queen continued, pulling his thoughts back to the present. Her heels clicked on the dark marble floor as she paced around him. “There are so many others who have sworn fealty to me. I know they would kill for the chance to help me with this particular quest.”

Mathias dared to raise his head, even though he hadn’t been ordered to. “Please. No. Let me finish this,” he pleaded, his voice full of desperation. “I can do this, your grace.”

The queen looked at him, and he was thrown back as a wave of her dark power hit his body, his head slamming onto the floor. He grunted as the taste of it filled his mouth- decay and rot, a power made to destroy and take. “Did you see where they went? Can you even tell me how to get to her?”

Mathias smiled up at the ceiling. “Yes. They are in Velaris. When she opened the portal, I knew it would take her to the Whispering Woods. If they went there, don’t you think Azriel would have called for Rhysand at once?”

The queen tilted her head to the side, clearly contemplating his words. “Fine. Go get her.” She snapped her fingers, and a dark, obsidian collar appeared in her hands. She threw the collar at him, and his fingers burned as he touched the cold metal. “Take that. You should be prepared this time.”

Mathias nodded, his eyes locked onto the collar. Even in his hands, the darkness of the metal seemed to pull his magic from his body. He had to fight the urge to throw it on the ground, his magic recoiling in the presence of such darkness.

“Go!” the queen ordered, her voice thundering through the room. “Get up!”

Mathias scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbling slightly. He bowed low at the waist. “Thank you for trusting me, your grace,” he said with a strained voice. That damned collar was making it hard to think straight. He slowly stood and turned for the door, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“This is your last chance, Mathias,” she said, her voice like darkness given form. “If you care at all about your life, I suggest you don’t fail this time.”

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[shierajones]

Rise of Red

So I’m watching this movie and doing Simone Biles levels of mental gymnastics to make this all connect to the original story and have the plot holes fill in. Here are my attempts at cohension from the beginning:

SPOILERS!!!!

It’s been 30 years since Auradon was founded.

The math isn’t mathing but sure, let’s say after D3, everyone went on adventures, Ben and Mal got married and they all took time to mature and grow in their roles. As the years have passed, they recognize what a terrible job Beast did as a leader and they want to increase trade and foreign relations with other countries.

Uma says that Ben and Mal put her in charge of everything while they (along with Evie and Jay) are making alliances with other countries.

Of course! Because Beast sucks as a leader so they don’t trust him to take back over even if only temporarily. Gil and Harry (and most of the pirates we’ve seen) are missing from Uma’s crew, because she asked them to help Ben and Mal on their journey. Hook is serving as Captain in Uma’s absence and Jay and Gil have grown very close since traveling Auradon together through the years so it makes sense.

Chad is Cinderella and Charming’s son, but Chloe will one day be queen of Cinderellasburg.

Cinderella and Charming had fertility issues at first and Chad is adopted. Chloe is their miracle baby and, though younger, is the true-born heir to the throne. They love and support Chad in all things and have pampered him his whole life. Given the struggles they had to conceive, they don’t regret showering Chad with love but they recognize he’s a bit spoiled and not fit to be king one day.

The future shows Red and the Queen of Hearts ruling on the throne together. I guess we’re assuming since she’s black and red it means she’s evil.

We never actually see that this future is prevented. The ultimate endgame may still be the same, that Red rules with her mother. I’m going to say, this future was not prevented, just that the Queen of Hearts turn to evil was delayed.

In the past, many of the heroes and villains that we know are in high school together.

Many but not all. This is just a blip in their histories and the stories to come in the future are still canon. We don’t actually see any of the villain/hero pairs (Maleficent & Aurora) (Hook & Peter Pan) (Hades & Hercules) so outside of two couples being established (Jasmine and Aladdin in love and Ella and Charming flirtation/mutual pining) there’s nothing that makes some of the stories automatically false. I’d say some of the events in high school just blacken their hearts more and turn them into real villains.

Bridget and Ella’s personalities seem to be switched (with a more evil skew on Bridget’s end as an adult). This one is long.

Ella was Bridget’s only friend and because she was grounded, she wasn’t supposed to be able to make it to the Castlecoming. She cancels on Bridget and leaves her alone. However, Fairy Godmother is also friends with Ella and has been practicing her magic more and is now in possession of a powerful spellbook (more on that later). She wants a way to help her and is finally successful casting an enchantment that gets Cinderella to the dance for a short time. When her curfew hits, the spell will be reversed and send her home. When she gets to the dance, instead of finding Bridget, she gets caught up in Charming and after the song playing changes to So This is Love, they share their first dance. The two are so engrossed in each other and discovering their feelings are mutual that she doesn’t notice anyone or anything else. However, Bridget sees her and is excited at first until she realizes Ella isn’t seeking her out. She’s stuck on Charming. The song playing when Ella walked in is Shuffle of Love and Bridget is trying to focus but makes a mistake. She turns again to Ella to see if she’ll jump in and help but she’s still too distracted by Charming. Left heartbroken she moves and just watches them on the dance floor while staying isolated on the sidelines. She tries to ignore her feelings because she should be happy for Ella but she can’t stop crying a little. She should’ve been there for her. Isn’t that what friends are for? Then, Uliana comes to talk to her and seemingly comfort her. For a second, she thinks she’s coming around to be her friend. She doesn’t think twice when she offers her a cupcake. Suddenly she’s transformed to a monster and everyone around her starts laughing. Ella and Charming’s attention is finally broken from each other and they turn to see what’s going on. Upon seeing this monster, they laugh too thinking it’s just a prank—with no idea who the monster is. But Bridget’s last shred of hope is broken seeing her only friend laugh at her pain after ignoring her the whole night. When Ella finally realizes who it is, she tries to run after her and loses her shoe. She almost catches her to comfort her but then is whisked away by Fay’s spell and finds herself back at, sitting in the barn. Ella, still grounded is left feeling a mixture of joy, love, pain and regret from the events of the night. She can’t contact Bridget or see her until school starts again on Monday. By Monday it’s too late. Bridget, having spent the weekend with no one to talk to or comfort her decides Love Ain’t It and takes on a new mantra for her life. She looks into the Looking Glass and sees her evil future with her daughter. Fine, if that’s what she becomes, why try? At school, Ella tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness but it’s too late. She tries to tell her how her kindness made her strong, how she’s always respected that about her and loves her like a sister but it’s not enough. She tries to show her with her actions. She takes on the persona Bridget always had because it was good, it was kind, it was true strength. She doesn’t want to suffer for one mistake and doesn’t want Bridget to allow that night to define her, but again, it’s too late. Bridget already knows how this story ends and it’s not with love and friendship. She decides to let the fear and power be her friend and becomes the worst bully they’ve ever seen.

Uliana and her crew were troublemakers so would never have been able to open the spellbook and prank Bridget.

Before Red and Chloe showed up, Uliana and her crew were going to lure someone else in to get the book. Fay! They manipulated her with fear and hope—the promise that she could use the Sorcerer’s book when they were done to perfect her magic. So she did it, just like her daughter tried to take the wand in D1.

Merlin just lets Red and Chloe into school, partners them with their mothers “coincidentally” and sees the open window after the break in but doesn’t try to find out who else was able to escape.

He’s aware that Red and Chloe are time travelers and knows there’s a reason to change the timeline as they have. He knows what’s to come with Beast banning magic and shipping off the villains. He wants to change that story too and these girls are the catalysts. This change in history is going to open the doors for magic to be welcomed back to Auradon in the future as they return and have to fix what they’ve changed.

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[admirxation]

Force | Enver Gortash oneshot

Pairing: Lord Enver Gortash x f!durge!reader (afab) Synopsis: Gortash forcefully tries to jog the reader's memory of their history. Word count: 2.5k Disclaimer: This fic will deal with sensitive topics like non-con. I do not condone everything I write; this is a piece of fiction where real people cannot get hurt. You are responsible for the content you consume. cw: reader hates gortash at the start, dark content, non-con, kidnapping (mentioned briefly), tying up, spitting (in a 'get away from me' way), p in v, unprotected sex, choking, tit play, gagging, and creampie (if I missed anything, please tell me).

You were previously surrounded by the dim glow of the campfire, hearing the sounds of your fellow companions as they fell asleep, trying to get some rest for another impactful day. However, you were no longer surrounded by friendly faces; that night, you couldn’t help but stay up and let your inner thoughts swirl alongside the squirming tadpole that kept you restless and exhausted. It was bad enough that you had bloodlust coursing through your very being; now you had awoken knowing you were not the person you thought you were when you woke up on the nautiloid. On your journey to Baldurs Gate, you often thought about the person you were, maybe thinking that you might have been sweet, but that was all a delusion when you finally defeated Ketheric and made your way to Lord Enver Gortash. 

When first meeting him, you were, shall we say, intimidated, by the steel watcher that held a deep and rich-toned voice that was welcoming you back; all your fellow companions next to you at the time shared the same confusion — all of it answered when you were face to face with the tyranny’s chosen, and his explanation of the history you two had. The whole puzzle was incomplete; you still had many pieces missing, and maybe you would be given the pieces now.

You were no longer in that humble but comfortable camp; you were now forced on your knees, with a tight and harsh rope looped around your wrists that were placed behind your back, releasing heavy breaths as you tried to grow accustomed to the cold shock of pain that started in your knees from the steel watchers throwing you to Gortash in his private chamber, you felt that jolting pain travel through all your nerves and cause you to wince — even when you were trying not to show weakness. 

Gortash had begged to see you again; that crude and short introduction to the new you wasn’t enough when he had been waiting for you to return; he grew to hate Orin even more for taking his favourite assassin from him, and now you were back, but changed, no longer the Bhaalspawn he had been connected to in body and mind; your, shall we say, rebirth and evolving from your chosen company surrounding you and making your new morals wasn’t welcome to Gortash — he hated the new person and wanted to force the memory of the real you back. 

You looked up to meet Gortash’s dark eyes, watching him stare at you with that taunting and wicked smirk as he looked you up and down at your vulnerable frame. He waved his hand and ushered the watchers to leave him; you felt exposed, vulnerable, even terrified to be in a room alone with him with no one to come to your aid — you had been taken in the night when you had moved a bit further from the main camp to be left alone with your thoughts, you only realised now how stupid it was to wander off in the place you two main enemies lurked. While you had been trying to resist your violent urges, you only wanted to resist them with your new friends, but you didn’t care to with Gortash. To hells with the alliance, if he was to treat you like this, as he moved closer with slow steps with his eyes never fraying from yours and looking at you with amusement, he never thought to see you under his will; it was often the other way round in your relationship. While tied up and kneeling for him, that metallic taste of anger was lingering on your tongue, your eyes narrowing. 

“Is the tying up necessary?” you were quick with your words as your hands kept squirming behind your back, but venom was intertwining with your language and manner. 

“Just call me Enver, dearest; there is no need for the formalities. Especially for old friends.”

His voice was deep and rich, his words and tone swirling in your mind. It felt familiar, but you didn’t know if that was a part of your unconsciousness that remembered him and wouldn’t come to the front of your cortex or if the feeling just came from the logic of knowing you had something with him. He bent down to place his fingers on your chin, lifting it, only being met with you forcefully taking it away and scrunching up your face in disgust at him, the feeling he had the goddamn right to touch you. “My… don’t be like that… You used to love that,” he continued to toy with you. 

“You have such a way of welcoming sposed old friends… I don’t care about any sort of history; you have no right to touch me… Gortash,” you clenched your fists as you mockingly elongated the way you said his last name, not wanting to conform to his need for a friendly first-name basis. 

“I’ll say… It’s quite different seeing you like this. I never thought I would get the chance to set my eyes upon you in this state… It’s quite the opportunity.” A breath of amusement was released as his gaze continued to objectify you, his eyes travelling down your face to your form. He wickedly liked how his dark shadow engulfed the light that once surrounded you; your eyes squinted as Gortash placed his rough hand on your cheek, caressing. You took an opportunity to bite the fingers that tried to venture, but that was exactly what he wanted. “There she is… That’s the spirit, the fiery soul I’ve dearly missed… I know you changed, but I know you weren’t completely gone.” 

Hot anger pooled your senses, feeling ike your blood was boiling and about to burst through your skin: “I’m still trying to change… I’m not the vermin you longed for, and you bring me here to what? Rekindle the old flame… You’re pathetic, honestly.” 

“Your words wound, my dear,” he let out a small, slow, and deep giggle as he wouldn’t take any of your threats seriously, but you continued to refuse to give in to the history nonsense; you wanted to keep being the person you had grown to be… proud of? Bhaal made you in blood for grotesque destruction, but you no longer wanted that destiny.

“This dynamic is getting exhausting now… I brought you here not to romance and rekindle with you, but to remind you and have you back by my side… I have no idea who this new identity you’re proclaiming you’re following; I know it’s a facade, and our connection will prevail… I would rather that happen sooner than later… Stop speaking to me as an acquaintance.” 

“I find it pitiful that you think of yourself as an acquaintance… You’re nothing but an obstacle,” it felt like a dagger into Gortash’s heart to hear those words from a past lover he had never had the thought to get over, even when hearing you had died from Orin making a fool of you, he hadn’t lost hope, knowing you would come back in some way — he just didn’t predict that he would have to make you come back to him. 

“I don’t blame you, dear,  for thinking like this; it isn’t your fault… But I will bring that pretty mind of yours to sense, one way or another,” he descended again, crouching to have his eyes meet your level. 

Indignation roared through you, every inch of your skin feeling hot and irritated. You had the itch to be let go, but you were trapped in your arms, to hells with your alliance; you had gotten this far and knew you could take him; he even knew it by having you kidnapped into his private chamber in the sleeping city. You stared at him — only for a moment — before spitting at the face he claimed you had been connected before; he pulled away, rushing to an upright position as he wiped it away — he had wanted to do this in a way that would make you come back to him through your choice, but you made his patience run thin. 

“You unruly thing,” in a moment of haste, his fingers collected around your neck; you gasped as his fingers squeezed the sides only to allow a release of air; you looked into his eyes, his dark lashes and dark shadows surrounding them — you knew these eyes. Your body felt hot as you stared back at his, a part of you that was connected to him coming back and living in familiarity, but you were still fearful of what he was going to do. 

“Are… Are you going to kill me?” you asked, only to be met with another smirk that bestowed control over you. 

“No, of course not, dear,” he let go of your neck. You gasped for needed air, dazed dots clouding your vision as you grew accustomed to the much-needed oxygen in your system, but your moment of freedom was short-lived when he dragged you by your top, hearing the hem ripping as he dragged you to his bed; you feared what was going to happen but was also… excited? You felt a cacophony of emotions intermingling inside you, and you couldn’t process any of it as the sight of the bed got closer and closer. “I was going to let you see reason in the more civilised way… But you have left me no choice but to jog your memory by force,” there was tension in his words, as his gaze upon you wasn’t just one of lust like he had before when you were first thrown to his feet, but now there was a darker yearning to make you see his views, to make you see how he saw you, you squeezed your legs together and tried to use your strength to avoid what you knew was coming, you weren’t naive or stupid, you knew what that look meant. 

“You could have gone the easy route, but you had to be difficult,” his hand ventured between your legs, separating them no matter how much effort you tried to put them together; it was difficult to do anything with your hands bound up, limiting your bodily movement and having your balance thrown off. 

Gortash stopped your squirming as he placed his hands on the sides of your waist and pinned you down, a pulsating pain travelling to your arms as you tensed them with now being placed on your back, feeling the covers along your skin and smelling his scent that had seeped into them. Your eyes were darting everywhere as Gortash used the sharp claws of his golden hand accessory to make a neatly placed rip that went through each layer of clothing, exposing the core that made him harder. 

“Oh, have I missed the sight of you,” he said under his breath.

“Stop! I will make you regret this; I will! I’ll have you bathe in your blood; don’t you dare touch me!”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Gortash reached for something unknown to you. When it was in your peripheral vision, you saw ripped-up rags. You watched as he balled the fabric in such an intricate but quick manner, pressing his fingers on your jaw and forcing them open as he stuffed your mouth; you couldn’t spit them out, couldn’t reach your fingers to get them out, you were bound. You were slowly coming to the reality that you would have to endure whatever he was going to do to you — your muffled screams only added excitement to Gortash as he took his cock out of his pants, dragging his underwear to the side, nestling his body in between your legs, feeling your core’s warmth. 

The tip of his cock was sliding along your slit, pushing through in tiny movements and feeling you get wetter and hotter; Gortash smirked to himself: “Seems your body remembers me… Only your mind is left to come to the truth.” You felt betrayed; you didn’t want this. You were even scared and wanted to break free and have your bloodlust revenge on what he had done to you. Still, the moment he let himself inside, that deep thrust inside your walls, your body begged for him to continue as your eyes rolled back to your head, a muffled moan come through the rags as you felt his length inside of you; it felt familiar, but in a way also a new euphoric feeling that you couldn’t help but like. He felt your walls stretch against him; he released a gasp as he felt how incredible you were again, your walls eagerly clenching around his cock as he pressed his fingers on your waist with enough pressure to leave a light bruise. Groans escaped his mouth; they were low with a mix of laboured breaths as he continued to feel your body surround him. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes as you felt him push the pressure on your skin and the way he forcefully let you feel that pleasure and the ecstasy of it. 

“Fuck,” he released in a whispered hush as he continued to pump himself inside you, “I’ve missed the feeling of you… mmmm,” his moans continued in between his speech. 

Your back arched in response to the tip of his cock bruising your cervix as he pushed and pushed his whole length in your wet and throbbing core; Gortash continued this quick motion but still savoured every moment of it, something that he had been yearning and dreaming immensely about from the time you had been taken from him. Your moans continued as you squeezed your eyes shut, hating how much you liked it, hating how good he was at knowing your body and how to make it yield to the sensation.

He repositioned himself to move his face to be no longer level with yours, now staring at your breasts that had been bouncing in front of him with every hard thrust he brought to you; on his way down, he left rough and lazy kisses along your neck and chest, taking your hard nipple in between his teeth and gently nibbling it, later twirling the bud with his wet tongue that made a shiver roll down your body. 

“Mmhmm,” you moaned; you no longer cared about the large section of your mind telling you to stop submitting to his will; you only listened to the irrational corner of your mind that loved the feeling of him, loved how he used your body, and you wanted more. Your groans continued to erupt and be shielded with the cloth that was nestled in your mouth, your chest rising up and down even quicker as you get hotter and wetter underneath him. 

After more forceful thrusts and bites, Gortash released a final loud and deep moan as he finished inside of you; you felt his hot, euphoric release inside of you and couldn’t help but want more, left in a daze on his bed. 

authors note: please engage if you liked this; reblogging is the best way of supporting creators and I would be very appreciative if you liked and reblogged. This is my first bg3 fic, and I hope people like it, I am thinking of writing a durge reader x gortash pre game events. love you all, mwah mwah mwah.

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part one)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, violence, mentions of death, blood, mention of guns, alcohol, swearing, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, bucky has issues, mention of robbery & crimes, mention of police (law), mention of flooding & drought, vague mention of animal death, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3k

A/N: hiya! it's been awhile. i started a first draft of this story literally like a year ago? it's gone through so many changes to the plot (it was originally called queen of the gunslingers). this has been so refreshing and wonderful to write, i wasn't even sure if i was ever going to post it because western marvel au is so niche but i know a few people enjoyed me & the devil so!! this mini series is pre written so i'll be trying to post updates weekly as i edit. the series is sitting around 25k-30k words and will be 7 chapters long. if you'd like a tag list let me know. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Rain was supposed to be a welcome sight. 

The inhabitants of Crimson Junction had been thankful for the blessing, a relief from the drought that had plagued them. The surrounding areas had been unceremoniously crowned The Dustbowl after seven years of no rain. Fierce winds had blown in, kicking up the dirt, sand, and dust, blanketing the surrounding areas. Crops failed to grow, animals suffocated, and homes were buried. Most left the area, choosing to abandon their land in search of fruitful and safe territories.

The canyons bled crimson the day the rains came; water mixed with the red soil and rock. The people of Crimson Junction celebrated, their prayers were finally answered. It was only as the valleys began to flood and the once barren riverbeds overflowed that the inhabitants considered the bleeding waters an omen. 

Those who lived out in the west were familiar with danger. Out in the open, death lurked everywhere. It watched from the desert, a darkness always lingering a few feet away. Death took on many forms—a bullet, a wound, a sickness—but when the rain came disguised as a blessing, no one was prepared for its wrath. 

Floods wiped away entire homesteads. Homes and countless heads of cattle were lost to the raging waters, swept downstream, and smashed between debris. Survivors, soaked and shivering in their nightgowns and nightshirts, gathered in the small crossroads town of Crimson Junction. Fortunately, the town had been spared, but it had become an island, isolated in a lake of thick, deep, red mud. Travellers and misplaced locals sought shelter, and the town came to life overnight. The canyons were unstable and too dangerous to travel due to the landslides and debris blockages, and with mud up to your elbows, it would be impossible to walk through, let alone lead a packhorse. So, you were all stranded, patiently waiting until the roads were cleared. 

It appeared fate had led you to Crimson Junction for a reason. 

The hotel attendant sighed as you descended the stairs of the rickety building, the older man muttering about the mud tracked in through the entrance. Even Crimson Junction had not been spared the sludge. The thick, red substance appeared to be a problem in every establishment in the area, gradually caked onto not only your clothes and shoes but also the flooring. 

You gave the attendant a shy nod of your head as you exited into the night. The chill of the night air bit at your bare skin, and you were suddenly grateful for the layers of skirts that pooled around your legs. The road so far had been hot and sticky, with layers of dust that clung to your skin. When it was not still and scorching, the winds would whip violently. Sand and rocks had pelted you, leaving your skin stinging and your hair tangled. The floods had allowed the temperature to finally drop below the pits of hell. 

You hesitantly depart the porch of the motel, the heels of your riding boots clicking as you lower yourself onto the street. Wooden planks squelched under your weight as they sank deeper into the sludge. The town had tried to combat the muck by laying out boards to traverse, but despite their good intentions, the wooden boards seemed to sink deeper and deeper with each passing day. The streets echoed something more akin to a pigsty than a walkable path. 

With the chill in the air, you hugged your arms around your bodice, still making sure to hike up your skirts to prevent them from dragging through the mud. Ever since finding yourself stuck after the rains, you had resigned yourself to your hotel room. You slept and read to pass the time, and your horse was boarded at the stables for a hefty price. But after days of waiting and your funds running low, you found yourself feeling rather antsy, your impatience growing the longer you waited. With impatience came risk and rash decisions, so, against your better judgement, you opted for a strong drink at the saloon to quieten your mind. 

The saloon was alive with music and chatter, with other stranded travellers slurring their words or in a state of undress despite the sun only having recently set. You expected many of them to have wondered into the establishment not long after awakening from whatever alley they had drunkenly stumbled into the night before. It certainly smelled like it, with clothing plastered in mud to match. The chaos allowed you to slip in quietly, finding an empty spot along the bar. You frowned at the coating of muck congealed onto the floor, a mixture of questionable liquids you did not want to identify. With a wave of your hand and coins slid over the sticky bar, you were content staring into space as laughter and singing broke out around you. 

Your peace was short-lived. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a looming shape as a body slid in beside you. Your eyes stayed locked on your drink, only noticing the scent of whiskey and sweat clinging to the man. 

“Where have you been hidin’, Miss? I ain’t never seen a woman as pretty as you in these parts.”

You expected a lady such as yourself to be few and far between in these lands. Most of the folks who roamed this far into the desert were hardy, stocky, and rough around the edges. You did not fault them for it, but rather a sense of admiration for the determination it had taken to live through the seven years of drought. You were, arguably, a bit delicate in appearance. Though, it was a purposeful presentation. Pristine and shining among the filth. Your hands were smooth; there were no calluses or scars. Hair neatly pinned back, and a clean and tidy handkerchief knotted around your neck. Your skin was untainted by the sun, and your lips were unpeeled. Your dress, though not the height of city fashion, was impractical for such a lifestyle as farming or droving. The layers of fabric were orderly, with intermittent embroidery and lace. You had lived a comfortable life, and it was clear you were raised to be a wife and homemaker. Your Pa had worked hard to afford you such a future.

“Not from these parts.” You spoke into your glass as you raised it to your lips with an eye-roll. A gentle girl you might have been to your Pa, but he was not present. And you were not feeling particularly in favour of being pleasant. 

“Traveller, like myself. Guessin’ you stuck ‘cause of the floods too?” The man mused, leaning his forearms against the sticky bar. He shifted his body forward, craning his neck as if desperate to catch a proper glimpse at your face. 

“Somethin’ like that.” You respond dryly, unmoving. 

“Say, you interested in havin’ a good night, sweetheart? I got a room in the hotel over yonder if you wanna join me.” 

Grinding your teeth in annoyance, you jerk your head around to face the man.

“What do you take me for?” You snap at him. You take note of his greying hair and the locks thinning along his hairline. His beard, with uneven, yellowing teeth revealed by cracked lips, turned into a sneer. 

“I didn’t mean no insult, darlin’.” He starts, “I ain’t insinuating you’re an easy mark, sweetheart. Just knew I couldn’t let a catch like you go walkin’ out of here without at least tryin’.”

“Charmin’,” you huff. “Did you not consider that I would never want to lay with a dimwitted pest such as yourself?” As you speak, you can see his once-toothy grin harden into gritted teeth and a look of drunken rage wash over his features. 

"Well, ain’t you a quick one, huh?” He spits out, his body looming closer. Only moments before the two of you had been invisible, another set of bodies in the crowded saloon. As his voice began to rise, you could feel heads turning and eyes locking onto the both of you as the scene unfolded. “A fuckin’ tease, ain’t ya? Hangin’ around this bar all by yourself, askin’ for it. You tellin’ me a lady like yourself travelling alone ain’t some whore lookin’ for some attention?”

You roll your eyes once more, shooting back the last of your drink. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to remain in your hotel room. Back turned, you begin to walk away from the seething man. In your brief moment of naivety and vunrablitiness, he wraps his mud-clad hands around your forearm, yanking you backwards towards the bar. 

“Now where ya think you’re goin’ now, miss? I weren’t done talkin’ to you.” He hissed into your ear, the stench of his warm whiskey breath fanning across your face. You began to lower your hands, reaching for your riding boot. Your fingers gathered your skirts, entangling themselves in the fabrics as you hoisted up the layers. Your hands drew closer to your knees, your back pressing into the hardwood bar, twisting your torso away from the man. 

A gruff voice quickly interrupted, drawing your attention away. 

“You know this man, ma'am?” The low voice asks. You glance over at it’s owner, a dark-haired man, and look him over with one sweep. 

The man was familiar to you, though he wouldn’t know you. Out of all of the towns you had visited in the past few weeks, there was scarcely any that failed to have his likeness plastered upon a bounty board. James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky, as he was more commonly known. The papers and gossip of fellow travellers spun a tale, one of a group of heartless butchers and thieves. He was wanted for a train robbery gone wrong in the south. A decent price upon his head, as well as that of his gang. From what you had read, the group had split in an attempt to lose the law. One had gone north, another deeper south, while Barnes had gone west. 

The posse of outlaws had been lucky, as the law had hurridly dismissed the chase; a different high-profile robbery had drawn their attention away. One they had prioritised more than the livelihoods of the lowerclass who had been on the train that day. Bounty hunters still pursued, but mostly the world moved on. Some Duke from Europe had been robbed while exploring the west too trustingly, and the story had become an overnight sensation. So Barnes and his companions had become a distant whisper, a sun-bleached and fraying poster behind a bar. 

But you had not forgotten Bucky Barnes. 

“No.” You finally choke out in reply, your hand raising back to thigh-height as you stand tall. When faced with a killer, you had anticpated a feeling of disgust, but instead a burning curiosity roared through your veins. 

Barnes lets out a slow breath, his eyes darting over the unwelcome man. Barnes was easily twice his size, with pure muscle and a wicked look in his eye. There was a charm to him, you supposed, in a rugged, dark-handsome stranger, saviour of damsels in distress type of way. Messy dark hair peaked out from beneath his hat; some pieces curled around the nape of his neck. Behind his dark lashes were icy blue eyes, with the crinkle of a smirk at the corners. Like many others, there was a hint of red earth dusted across his face, neck, and hands. The clothes covering his broad, muscled body looked well-worn, and his boots were caked in mud. You noted the two revolvers slung around his hips and a bandolier stocked with ammunition across his chest.

“Do you want to know this man?” He asks again.

You lift your chin. “No.”

“Good.”

Before you can react, Barnes has leapt forward, landing a solid upper-cut on the drunk man with a grunt. The room erupted into cheers and whistles as the two clashed, glasses smashing and furniture overturned in their wake. You stood frozen, fingers in a white fist around your skirts. There was the sickening sound of bones crunching beneath flesh, and blood sprayed in droplets across sodden floors. As quickly as it started, it was over. One of the bartenders promptly escorted the unruly man out as he seethed and yelled obscenities. The saloon crowd roared back, a pulse of excitement and adreline rushing through the saloon. Barnes put his hands up in surrender as the barkeep eyed him cautiously, but the barkeep inevitably backed off, returning to safety behind the bar. Barnes sweeps a hand through his messy locks, his eyes darting around in search of his hat, which had been knocked to the floor. 

Against your better judgement, you bend down, retrieving the hat. You brush some of the red dust and broken glass from the brim before handing it back to the outlaw. He places it solidly back on his head.

“I appreciate your concern, but you didn’t need to do that, Mr.” You tell him, and he shrugs. 

“If you say so.” Barnes goes to turn away, then thinks better of it. Sucking his teeth, he tilts his head, looking you up and down once again. His eyes linger on your hair, then your dress, before finally settling on your clenched fists. “You travellin’ alone, Miss?”

“I don’t see why that's any of your business, Mr…?” You trail off, fingers flexing as you force yourself to loosen the grip on your skirts.

“Mr. Clark. Benjamin Clark.”

A false name. Clever. 

“Right.” 

He chuckles with a shake of his head, tapping the bar for a drink to be sent his way. Exhaustion seems to embody his very being; fatigue hangs from his bones like his own flesh and muscle. He doesn’t seem to notice your analysing stare; his focus is instead drawn to wiping off the splatter of blood that had been spat in his face at some point during the commotion. 

“Look, Miss…?” He begins with a sigh, finally looking you in the eye. 

“Nellie Chase.” You lie through your teeth, watching him through your eyelashes. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he looks down at you. 

“Look, Miss Chase. I don’t know yer circumstances, but it ain’t safe for a lady such as yerself to be travellin’ alone, especially in these parts. I imagine you was just passin’ through like the rest of us, then got stuck ‘cause of all that rain. But, with men and women of all sorts all trapped up together like this… well, it’s bound to cause trouble. You’d be better to stay locked up in your rooms, Miss; it would be safer than roughin’ it out with this lot.” 

You hold back a scoff and instead opt to lift your chin. A smirk pulls at the corners of your mouth as you take a step closer to the outlaw, eyebrows raised and head cocked to one side. “Well, thank you for your wisdom, Mr. Clark, but I am perfectly capable of handlin’ myself.”

A glass of whiskey was now in his hand, and you coolly slid over a coin to pay for it before he could. He blinks at you in surprise, and you flash him a grin in response. With narrowed eyes, he swallows back half of the amber liquid. 

“I imagine so.” He lets out gruffly. “Where are ya’ headed?”

“Saguaro Basin.” 

“Saguaro Basin? Wha’chu doin’ headed that way? Last I heard, there was some bad business in those parts. Cholera and all that.”

“I’m goin’ to be married.” You make a point of flashing the ring on your finger, which is met with a half-interested grunt. He didn’t seem to question how garish it was or how the metal did not match the earrings dangling from either side of your head. Though you imagined, you could not expect a man to notice such details as a woman might. 

“Yer gettin’ married and yer husband-to-be ain’t even got the time to come get’chu himself?”

“Well, I imagine he is quite busy workin’, and it is such a long distance to get there and back. So he paid for me to take the coach, as it is supposed to be safer—” You cut yourself off with a frown as you notice his eyebrows raise. You clear your throat as you decide to shift the topic. “So, where are you headed then, Mr. Clark?”

“Same as you. West. Bit further, though maybe more Marielle ways.”

“Marielle… that’s…?” You trail off. You knew exactly where Marielle was, nestled deep into the western deserts and canyons. Once, it was the home of outlaws, whores, and rustlers. These days, it had been transformed into some sort of respectable town with the help of the law and the church. In fact, it seemed the now bustling town had grown in size from it’s humble beginnings and was becoming a hotspot of trade and business in the deep west. You’d heard mention of the fearsome prison that had been erected not two years ago, where prisoners were subject to hard labour while awaiting their sentencing. 

“Long past Saguaro Basin, that’s for sure.”

“Right.”

You were met with silence, but continue to pry. Would he spin a grand, elaborate tale just as you had done yourself? Or would he tell the truth—a raw, bitter confession of guilt to just another pretty, misplaced lady stuck in Crimson Junction? This was all rather exciting. 

“What brings you there? Business, pleasure… family?” 

“Business.”  

“What kind?” You dare to push further. 

“Not the type’a business a lady such as yerself would be interested in.” 

“How so?” You seem to be out of luck; as the outlaws patience had grown thin. You could practically hear the tension snap as he let out a low ‘hmph’, reluctant to answer the question. Your fingers dance across the sticky bar as you ponder if you should push your questions further, but Barnes had other plans. Taking a long swig from his glass, he finishes the last of his whiskey and gets to his feet. 

“Well, Miss Chase, I thank you for the drink but I must be goin’ now. And you should get back to yer rooms and keep outta’ trouble now.”

The outlaw did not stay long enough to hear your farewell, preferring to slink wordlessly out of the building. With a smile, you lean against the bar, motioning for the barkeep to get you another drink. 

Fate had led you to Crimson Junction for a reason, and how gratifying it was to know why.

PART TWO

[lucidsjournal]

GINTAMA REVIEW

After finishing Gintama: The Very Final, my journey with Gintama has officially come to a close, and I must say it has been an amazing ride. Within this post, I will discuss my overall thoughts and feelings about various aspects of the series.

The Groundworks of Gintama:

First, I wanted to talk about my experience with the comedy episodes because I think they are the heart and soul of Gintama. Though at some points the comedy episodes were underwhelming, they steadily improved and became funnier as the series progressed. Some of the best episodes in Gintama are comedy episodes, many of them being filled with life lessons that can genuinely resonate with your own experiences.

I also think a lot of the comedy episodes are excellent because they lay down the foundation for the series by introducing so many new and interesting characters that you dive into. This is also accompanied by exploring many aspects of their lives and relationships with one another, portraying them as a close-knit, if unconventional, family. Seeing their dynamics play out is a joy to watch and though they may joke around and tease one another, they are always there for each other when it counts. As you grow attached to these characters, the serious arcs become even more impactful. Especially in arcs like Benizakura, Four Devas, Shogun Assassination, and so forth. During arcs like these, the stakes are raised higher than ever and the characters' unity in the face of common threats are deeply moving and satisfying.

Gintama's Mastery in Character Revelation Through Vulnerability and Tragedy:

Gintama has a rather large cast of characters, and despite its size, it manages to gently draw you in and make you care about these characters through these individual and personal moments. A lot of the times the show depicts these characters in a more vulnerable fashion and could even change your perspective on them through further context. A good example could be seen with the character Oboro, who is initially depicted as this intimidating assassin who is loyal to Utsuro. But as the show progresses, more is shown about his character and the tragedy surrounding him. Through the presented flashbacks, it is revealed that Oboro lost everything and was saved by Shouyou, eventually becoming his first student. Later on, when Oboro is assumed to be dead after protecting Shouyou, he comes across Shouyou again. But during this instance, Shouyou is seen with new students at the school that Oboro inspired him to open. It is pictured how abandoned Oboro feels when he sees his former teacher with other students, believing that Shouyou no longer even recognizes him. So essentially, this envy and sense of abandonment he felt is what drives him to betray Shouyou and assist in his capture.

As Oboro's character continues to unfold in his final moments, it becomes clear that his deepest desire is to be with his teacher, Shouyou, and the other students as a sort of family. This scene provides so much more context and depth to Oboro's character in painting the regret and sadness he feels. It is such a tragic underline to his character, which only strengthens his dynamics with the other characters, especially with Takasugi.

This ability to effectively provide substance to these characters, often supported by flashbacks, is something Gintama has done consistently well. This could even be seen as far back as in the Mitsuba Arc. Throughout the Mitsuba Arc, Sougo's character past is explored as well as his relationship with Toshi and the newly introduced character, Mitsuba, Sougo's sister. Up until this arc Sougo is shown to be primarily sadistic and conniving, who seemingly holds a grudge towards Toshi. But throughout this arc, we delve deeper into Sougo's character, revealing a vulnerable side to him as he mourns the passing of his sister, which emotionally impacted me a lot.

What Gintama Means To Me:

So I have rambled for a while on well Gintama is able to explore these characters in an emotionally resonant matter. But what does Gintama mean to me? Well to me, Gintama is fundamentally about finding the will to persevere through any struggle and tragedy we may experience, an idea that is strongly supported by the bonds we form, giving us purpose and the strength to overcome any adversity.

The idea of what it means to live forever is something that is a motif throughout the series, as it demonstrates how people's influence and impact on each other leaves a lasting imprint on their souls. This can be shown within the Yorozuya themselves, where upon meeting Gintoki, Shinpachi is bewildered by him and follows in his footsteps to learn the way of the samurai, and this bond that Shinpachi forms with Gintok is strengthened and immortalized as the series progresses.

Kagura, who initially lived with Gintoki solely because she needed money to go back to her homeworld, realizes how much she has enjoyed her time with Shinpachi and Gintoki. Ultimately staying back with this newfound family of hers. The impact Gintoki had on Kagura could be seen through the fact that she has picked up so many of his mannerisms and habits, such as picking his nose and his sense of humor.

While also referring to Gintoki as her, "earth father" on a couple of occasions.

Kagura and Shinpachi to me, share a sibling-like bond. Shinpachi, is the older, rational brother, while Kagura is the younger more brash sister. These two characters have such different personalities and backgrounds, yet still function as siblings. Much of their personalities clash and lead to frequent bickering and playful jabs as many siblings would. Yet beneath all of that lies a deep affection and willingness to support each other through thick and thin. One of the greatest examples that showcases their bond would of course be in Yoshiwara in Red Arc. In this arc, lies a powerful sequence where Kagura loses herself after seeing Shinpachi being beaten up almost to death, which then leads Shinpachi to having to save her as well by reminding her of the bond they share. It was such a touching moment to me and showcased how strong their relationship has become.

As you can tell, I love seeing the character interactions between the three of these characters. There are so many memorable ones and it only shows how much you become attached to them. The emotional beats never seem to miss and it is something that continues to be strengthened as the show progresses.

Gintoki Sakata, Gintama's Soul:

So I talked about Gintoki a bit previously, but I wanted to talk about him more. This will tie into the previous section in what Gintama means to me because I think Gintoki encapsulates the whole premise of the show best. Through Gintoki, we see how deeply the Yorozuya and the many other characters in the series have impacted him, just as much as he has on them. Not only that but it is revealed in the Red Spider arc that another character had a significant influence on him, his teacher Shouyou.

It becomes clear that Gintoki carries the teachings he learned from Shouyou. When the two first met, Gintoki was merely a child who was thrust into a life of killing by circumstances beyond his control. Gintoki had no clear purpose besides trying to survive by defending himself. As the two grew closer, Shoyou laid the foundation for a much different path for Gintoki, one where he would have a purpose. This sense of purpose would lead Gintoki to use his sword to protect his very soul. What this means is that Shouyou was essentially trying to prevent him from succumbing to emptiness, which would only lead to despair. Shouyou himself struggled with this, as Utsuro, his other personality, greatly encompasses. And despite experiencing the death of Shouyou at his own hands and among other tragedies, Gintoki honored the teachings of Utsuro by finding the will to persevere. He started all over again and found this new sense of purpose in The Yorozuya and the entirety of the Kabuki district, forever living on within all the souls he has touched just as much as those very same souls influenced and saved Gintoki from falling into despair.

He encompasses what Gintama is all about, as someone who is constantly met with adversity. Gintoki continuously fought himself, tying into what Kamui said to Gintoki during the Battle Rakuyo arc, that Gintoki was not fighting Kamui, but was instead fighting something else.

This essentially means that whenever Gintoki is fighting someone, no powerful how they are, he is battling himself- facing his weaknesses, fears, and the prospect of becoming empty. This is exactly what Shouyou had taught him. Instead of running away from his weaknesses, he fights them head-on in battle. By doing so, he is simultaneously protecting the bonds he made with countless characters. These bonds have molded him into the new name he now possesses "Yorozuya Gin-Chan," a name that symbolizes the connections he treasures and fights to defend.

It also contributes to why Gintoki is such an endearing character who is so empathic to others who have lost everything and still can provide them with the hope to keep moving forward and fight against their inner weaknesses, just as Shouyou had taught him. He is one of the most life-affirming characters I have experienced and he has so many moments that moved me, especially times when Gintoki comes in to save the day and provide some wisdom that not only applies to the characters he is talking to, but to us as the viewers. There have not been a lot of characters who have been able to have this level of impact on me, but I am thankful that Gintoki Sakata for being one of them.

To Be Hollow:

Within this section, I wanted to discuss more on Utsuro and Shouyou. To me, Utsuro is one of the most nuanced and compelling antagonists I have seen in anime. Supported by a demanding and engaging presence in the same vein as other phenomenal anime antagonists such as Johan and Dio. Similarly to Gintoki, he also masterfully encompasses the ideas of Gintama. But he serves as the direct contrast to Gintoki. Utsuro is physically immortal due to the Atlanta in his body. He eventually became "empty" or “hollow.” Such that he was exposed to the worst of humanity, and was not able to form meaningful connections and memories much like Gintoki and the others did. Unfortunately, he tragically fell into despair, lacking a clear set purpose apart from destruction.

 The Shouyou personality, on the other hand, represents the hope and humanity that resides in all of us. Despite all of the suffering we have endured we can instead strive to change, and fight against our inner “Utsuro."

And though Shouyou eventually lost, he was still able to save and pave the way for his students. Gintoki himself is the actualization of that hope and so I believe Shouyou was able to reach 'true immortality' by bonding with the students he saved just as much as they saved him. He continues to live on within them. I think this just makes Shouyou/Utsuro's dynamic with Gintoki so much more interesting. Especially considering how it recontextualizes the first time Gintoki and Shouyou met. In essence, Shouyou saw himself in Gintoki and realized how dangerous the path he was taking. So by influencing Gintoki, he was able to prevent another 'him' from being born.

Utsuro's Last Stand

The final confrontation between Gintoki and Utsuro/Takasugi marks one of the best fights I have seen in anime, with an absolutely devastating conclusion for Takasugi. The idea of Utsuro taking hold of Takasugi's body was an amazing twist. It initially places Gintoki into such a fascinating predicament, forcing him to fight the shadow of his mentor in his dying friend's body, Takasugi. This tragically parallels the moment when Gintoki was previously forced to kill Shouyou in order to protect his friends during the Joui War. The recurring motif of true immortality is made clear during this fight and it makes Utsuro's conclusion so much more satisfying. This is supported by the reappearance of Oboro, who despite being dead, is revealed to be inside of Takasugi's body alongside Utsuro. This is because of the promise Takasugi made to Oboro, and though Takasugi briefly knew him, he understood his pain and frustration in wanting to be with the other students. So by honoring Oboro's death and working to fulfill his wish to stop Utsuro, Oboro continues to live on within the body of Takasugi, strengthened by their shared resolve. (I'll touch up on this more in a bit as I discuss Utsuro's conclusion).

The Death and Reincarnation of Takasugi:

So as we know, Gintoki was in a position where he had to fight his mentor and friend, Takasugi. Takasugi is well aware of the burden of having to slay down his mentor and friend on Gintoki, which drives some of the reasons why he inevitably sacrifices himself.

Upon Utsuro's death, we see a stunning sequence where Gintoki and Takasugi are on a boat, with many butterflies and petals surrounding the two of them.

Even though Gintoki knows Takasugi will soon die, Gintoki still clings to this idealized dream, one where Takasugi will still live; explaining that he would have loved to enjoy a drink with him. But this is rejected by Takasugi, who reminds Gintoki that even if he still lives, they would still be fighting against each other as rivals. Gintoki himself is aware of this because before the fantasy appears, he mentions that this was inevitable, that Takasugi had not grown at all. Yet Gintoki still fantasized about this possibility, and it made this sequence so much more tragic for me. Afterward, Takasugi places his hand into the water, dissipating the idealized dream and showing him the true reality before them, that he is going to die. There is nothing Gintoki can do about it. During this sequence, Takasugi reminds Gintoki to keep persevering and maintaining the many relationships he has made. He even states, "There is plenty left to protect with that thing, right" where it briefly pans to Gintoki's sword. This ties into the whole idea of what Gintoki fights for, as recontextualized during the Battle Rakuyo arc as I discussed above. Takasugi's desire for Gintoki to let go of this dream and continue forth in life just makes his sacrifice even more significantly moving to me. Now towards the end of the film, it is revealed that Takasugi was reincarnated.  

Initially, I was not sure how to feel about this because I felt as if it might contradict and diminish the significance of Takasugi's death. Then as I continued to reflect on the scene, I began to see how it incorporates some of the show's messages, while strengthening Takasugi's dynamic with Shouyou. The “reincarnated” version of Takasugi that is shown, is a new version of himself metaphorically, similar to how the Shouyou personality was birthed from Utsuro. Essentially, he was given an opportunity, a second chance to find purpose. This new version of Takasugi that emerged has the possibility of not being blinded by hatred and a desire to destroy. It also helps that Shouyou was the one who bestowed this gift on Takasugi, in hopes that he would truly strive for a new path. Through this interpretation of mine, it feels more rewarding considering Takasugi's sacrifice against Utsuro and I believe it still respects the sequence of Takasugi passing in Gintoki's arms. It also ties into the whole idea that it is never too late to change. Though it may have seemed impossible initially, this could provide hope that Gintoki may one day reunite with Takasugi and fight him anew, but with a Takasugi who is not blinded by his weaknesses.

My Favorite Sequences

When reflecting on my favorite moments in the series, three stand out. The first was Utsuro's final say in Gintama: The Very Finale, which was truly incredible. His speech sums up a good bit of what I have talked about previously up until this point, that being the connections and relationships we form give us meaning and ensure that we will live forever.

This is Utsuro's acceptance of this idea. He initially saw a glimpse of the power of immortal bonds through Gintoki's perseverance during the Silver Soul Arc. But the difference is that he ran away and rejected this idea completely because he still believed his belief in humanity was correct. He could not accept it because he knew it would invalidate his actions up until this point and his very identity perhaps. But Utsuro can no longer run away now and there was no turning back.

In the end, he was proven wrong. He saw how humanity can persevere through impossible odds and these characters embody those ideas so well. Oboro who was dead, was now revealed to be alive in the end, attempting to stop Utsuro. Takasugi who sacrificed himself to not only honor Oboro's wishes but to save Gintoki and what he was protected. Though Takasugi is dying, it is revealed that the bonds he shares with Gintoki are stronger than ever, and though Gintoki will ultimately slay his friend alongside the shadow of his mentor, Gintoki will preserve as he always does. This made Utsuro's plan of hollowing Gintoki by forcing him to slay his mentor and friend useless in the end. It is through these sequences of events that Utsuro finally understood what immortality really was, something he tragically never experienced despite being physically, "immortal." The second is when Gintoki reunites with his teacher, Shouyou. It is a beautifully cathartic sequence that feels like the culmination of what the entire series has been building up to. Watching Gintoki share what he has accomplished and the purpose he found within the Yorozuya was incredibly moving. The Yorozuya, a group that helps people no matter what the issue is, whether it is walking someone’s dog or saving the planet, embodies the essence of what Gintoki has become, the little monster who became human.

This leads seamlessly into my third favorite scene, that being “the skies have cleared up,” which I think brilliantly serves as the Final Say of the series, highlighting how Gintoki has let go of all of his burdens, guilt, and pain, fully embracing a life that has been enriched by the countless relationships he has formed. Beautifully showing the idea that it is never too late, that you can still fight your weaknesses, form meaningful connections, and strive to live a life that is colored by the bonds we create. This scene also compliments the scene with Gintoki and Takasugi on the boat so well, because it shows how Gintoki carried on Takasugi's wishes. Letting go of his pain, essentially being 'rebirthed," paralleling to the rebirth of Takasugi shown in the film. Which will make their reunite all the more beautiful.

So that is everything, for now, it is quite evident that Gintama is a special series to me. It is probably my favorite anime at the moment lol. I really hope you guys enjoyed this. These are just my rough thoughts, I may expand on some of the ideas I have brought up here in the near future :)

[jedi-hawkins]

"Strap in, kid. You're not gonna want to miss this view." - Sgt. Hunter

I've seen a few others make a tribute post for the batch and I felt some words pulling at my chest.

I was a latecomer to the fandom, I binged season 1 & 2 in July of last year and it's been a wild ride since. I've laughed and cried and everything in between. It's hard to even articulate what this show means to me.

I began my Star Wars journey like many others, with the original trilogy at some point in childhood (you could consider me a zillenial). I liked them, but I was much more of a Harry Potter nerd at the time, my head was at Hogwarts. The prequels, however captured my heart. I don't remember when I first watched TCW, but it's very clear my heart belongs to the times of the Republic.

Like things often do, other fandoms have faded out of my peak interests, Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Maximum Ride to name a few, but any time I've come back to Star Wars, it feels like coming home. A galaxy far far away so vast and full of hope and love and grief and sorrow.

The last year has been far from easy. For the last few years, that feels like all we've been saying, huh? But in all seriousness, I really did loose myself in the past year, but oddly enough, Star Wars was a constant for me, it was an escape. I joined tumblr right after I binged season 1 & 2 of The Bad Batch and immediately fell in love with the wonderful world of fans and writers and artists here.

At first, I was a lurker, just a name that popped into the reblogs, but I began interacting more and more. I've brushed on this with a couple people (so sorry for repeating myself), but it was actually through reading fanfiction, that I came to terms with the fact that I needed to leave a 2.5 year relationship. It's not that I 'fell out of love' with them or anything, I just realized I didn't trust them as much as I should, I didn't want to share as much as I should, I wasn't being fulfilled in the ways I needed. And for that, fanfic authors, I thank you. Please never stop creating.

I also learned a lot about myself, get ready cause I'm about to get cheesy.

Hunter, you brought me a lot of comfort. I saw how heavy the wellbeing of your squad weighed on your shoulders. How you sacrificed and starved yourself, mentally and emotionally for their safety and benefit. I've lived that more times than I can count and with you, I didn't feel quite as alone in that experience. Even though we never talked, and we never will, I feel like you saw me. Crosshair, you healed some of my faith in humanity. That people can change, they can see the error in their ways and turn against a system they just sort of slipped into. You reminded me that healing isn't linear, and that's okay. You reminded me that courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, but they are going and facing the mountain despite every atom in your body telling you to turn the other way. Echo, you reminded me it's okay to leave a group if your goals don't align. That it's not always an "in or out" situation. They can still be your family, people you rely on and who can rely on you even if you're not sharing bunks or meals anymore. You also reminded me that no matter how dire a situation is, or how grumpy you may be, a little humor goes a long way. Wrecker, you reminded me that people's perception does not define who you are. You can be big and gentle. you can love explosions and destruction and still be very intuitive. You can take some time to process things and still be skilled and intelligent. You reminded me to take joy in the simple things, a Lula, some Mantel mix, an ice cone. Things are always a little better with a full belly. Omega, you brought back some of my childlike innocence. You approached the galaxy with wide eyes full of wonder and always gave people the benefit of the doubt. You never lost hope. Even though you had to grow up too fast, you didn't let it break you, you still opened your heart to anyone who would see it. Tech, dear Tech. You reminded me to never dull myself or apologize for being authentically me. That my interests and skills are a good thing, no matter how niche they are. That I shouldn't be embarrassed or feel annoying for my knowledge or my eagerness to share it. You reminded me that love and humor and kindness and connection come in all shapes and sizes.

I've also made friends in this fandom at a level I wasn't even expecting to. I've made connections beyond the galaxy of Star Wars and found love and support in amazing ways. I was pulled to create more than I have in a long time, writing, drawing, hell even building my own server.

For sake of not clogging people's notifications, fighting with Tumblr's tagging bugs, and inevitably forgetting to tag someone: You all know who you are. Three M's, Havoc Marauder.

I began writing this tribute post before I watched the finale, and I'm finishing it after the finale. I'll end my ramble with this:

Dee and Michelle, thank you for bringing these characters to life over the last four years. You two really were the heart and soul of this project and your voices will forever ring true as Clone Force 99. Filoni, thank you for creating the concepts for this wonderful show that has become such a big part of so many people's lives. Brad, thank you for the immense work you've put into the show, your direction will not be forgotten. Jen, Joel, KinerBros, and Noshir (The Four Horsemen), y'all are a bunch of trolls and I hate you for it. I'm sending you my therapy bills. (I mean thank you for your work too, but you've been playing with my emotions for the past three months so forgive me if I'm a bit bitter)

It has truly been an amazing view. I don't plan on going anywhere, the fandom is just getting started, I am on the edge of my seat for all the wonderful fan creation that are yet to come.

CT-9901 ~ Sergeant Hunter ~ Havoc 1

CT-9902 ~ Tech ~ Havoc 2

CT-9903 ~ Wrecker ~ Havoc 3

CT-9904 ~ Crosshair ~ Havoc 4

ARC-1409 ~ Echo

Omega ~ Havoc 5

Clone Force 99 ~ Signing off 🫡

[saijspellhart]

Tumblr keeps recommending me posts with some of the worst takes on Catra’s character. Always an//ti//Catradora posts. (Like, did we watch the same show? We couldn’t have possibly watched the same show. Why the fuck would anyone compare her trauma to Hordak? Because they are on two entirely different character journeys, at wildly different age ranges and maturity, and with wildly different amounts of time to grow and change. Never mind the constant outside negative authority influences on Catra all the fucking damn time, that Hordak never has to deal with until season 5. And fortunate for Hordak, Prime doesn’t allow him the free will to choose a path, so Hordak gets a free pass, his character growth and budding humanity remain intact.) Don’t get me started on this, I could write a whole critical analysis on why Catra is a wonderfully written complex character, and why comparing her to Hordak is fucking ludicrous. Honestly the lack of comprehension about writing, character, fantasy, narrative and trauma astounds me when I see some of these Catra hate posts pop up in my recommended feed.

Tumblr, hopefully your algorithm gets this, but I LOVE Catra. I love her. I love this tortured mess, I love the writing that went into her character, I love her waffling precarious hold on sanity and reason. I love how she struggles to cope with her trauma. I love the realism put into her character despite the fantasy setting. But I also love that they didn’t push the realism too far, because it is at the end of the day a fantasy story. I love the delicate balance they wove into her character. I love the complexity and thought put into her entire character arc through the whole series. (And before anyone comes to crucify me, I say I love Catra, as a person who suffered immense parental trauma and manipulation. As a victim of some of the worst of it. I shouldn’t even have to mention my own trauma to justify appreciating a FICTIONAL character. But here we are.)

Would I have loved one extra season to really explore her redemption more thoroughly? Yes of course. An extra season would have been delightful to explore a lot of the character relationships more thoroughly. But we didn’t get that, and what the show creators did give us was still wonderful and satisfying. (Even if I have some critiques on some things.) the writing of the show at the end of the day is still smart, and tight, and so so competent. (Looking at the myriad of other story driven cartoons and shows that fall apart in the later seasons or just have an overwhelming amount of inconsistencies and botched writing. **coughs** Voltron, Miraculous, YGO, Netflix Carmen Sandiego, Bleach, many animes in general, just to name a few. Not that I didn’t love and adore most of these shows too.) the fact that She-ra (2018) stayed consistently tight and snappy and smart with their writing, narrative, and characters from beginning to end is a treasure.

Anyway. Catra is great. I could write a character analysis going into why from a writing and storytelling standpoint. But honestly I don’t think anyone cares that deeply, and I don’t exactly have followers who are particularly interested in She-ra. Tumblr, you god forsaken windfall apple, please stop suggesting an//ti//Catra and an//ti//Catradora posts. I don’t want to see them. I support the canon relationships. And I support the non canon ships too. What I do not support is hating on shippers who like other ships. It breeds contempt in a fandom, and leads to a fandom canabalizing itself until there are no fans left. Also letting hate and disdain take up such a large amount of time and space in your brain, leads you down some dark paths mentally.

[skyesdaisys]

Hey Jaiden!! I hope ur doing well today, I wanted to ask if you could write a Robin Buckley x reader where reader has to watch from the sidelines as Robin pines over Vickie and doesn't realize reader is right there. Then reader starts talking to simeone else (to distract herself from Robin because she believes it's a lost cause) and Robin's like maybe i do like reader?

Thanks:)

i'm doing well, thank you for asking <3 and oh my god, of course. i love robin so much, she's everything to me

—

and i despise my jealous eyes

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader, and minor robin x vickie & steve x reader

summary: having a crush on your girl best friend was... complicated. even when knowing that she's attracted to girls, just one girl particularly, and that girl was not you

cw: many cups of angst, one sided pining turned two sided (because they're idiots), jealousy (on both ends), happy ending

a/n: robin is everything to me, she's a version of me as well because i kin her so bad, i just felt like she was created for me (as well as for other neurodivegent sapphics out there). also title is lyrics from lacy by olivia rodrigo and i thought it fit here

you knew and have been friends with robin buckley since middle school and during that time, you've been inseparable. your parents would say how much you're both attached to each others hips, which was quite the understatement.

when the both of you were close enough, she came out to you. trusting you enough with who she really is and has not told anyone else. of course you'd understand, maybe not entirely for your 13 year old brain, but.... how could you hate your best friend, your ONLY friend for who she loves? you thought people hating on someone for that was dumb, yet again, you're young, you don't know much of the world and why they act the way it does. but nothing was ever gonna change on how you viewed robin.

once you started high school together, you've experienced some changes yourself. that you found yourself going through an experience that your friend was a couple years prior, but at the time, it didn't mean anything important. and you though, 'this can't be a coincidence that i'm attracted to girls, as is my best friend' and speaking of that best friend.... through this discovery journey, you started seeing robin a different light. she was still your best friend of course, but these feelings were just growing into more than friendship, and that feeling never went away.

you were unsure about your sexuality for most of your high school experience, up until senior year. robin was in band, and she met this cute girl in band, vickie, and it made your just a little bit angry. and it's not just the fact this girl is taking time away from your best friend, but it was the fact robin was looking at a girl like that, and that girl wasn't you.

it's not like you hated vickie, you don't even know her, it was just possessiveness that got to you. everything was just so fucked and you didn't wanna talk about your feelings because you weren't exactly the best at communicating your emotions. especially when you don't like talking about them to begin with.

so, the second best option was to move on, though that probably would take multiple year and not over a span of a few days. you needed some type of distraction, of course. so you decided to hang out with steve harrington. and you a a freshman would be confused and wouldn't believe they'd be friends with steve harrington during your senior year.

and we'll, you were in luck. steve was looking for someone to take as a date to lucas' championship game so you took the opportunity to volunteer. and getting to know steve, he wasn't exactly your type but he was sweet, and yeah, a bit dumb, but he had heart and cared for others. and obviously this wouldn't be a permanent thing for you, but you felt kind of sad for steve because he's been mentioning about finding a girl who isn't leaving out of state to go to college, to find someone who isn't gonna be some boring one night stand and never speak to you again. you knew he wanted something real with someone, maybe it wasn't you but... you wanted to help.

to be honest, he was a gentleman. it wasn't even a dinner date, it was going to a high school basketball game and the two of you were sitting in the bleachers. he did buy you some food as you watched the game, you weren't overly invested since you didn't know much about basketball, but you wanted to support lucas.

during the game though, you and robin occasionally gave one another glances. this had made your heart beat a little too fast, but you ignored it.

the game was over and you and steve were walking towards his car to take you home, then you made a pretty dumb move and kissed him. obviously you didn't like him like that but... distracting yourself in anyway with anyone felt good, but it made your stomach twist up in knots. that had gotten progressively worse that robin was watching the entire thing by the time you pulled away. and she was walking away heartbroken and you were just standing there frozen til steve snapped you out of it by clapping his hands together to get your attention, "hey!" and you looked at him, and you knew, that he knew, "go after her, okay? i'll be fine."

"i'm sorry, steve." you felt awful for using him like this, he was your friend and you took advantage. but he brushed it off, "it's fine. i'd rather have robin be okay than me." and you smiled at him before running after your long time best friend. and you called out to her, "robin, can we please talk?"

"there's nothing to talk about, alright." she didn't turn back to look at you and just kept walking, "i just want you and steve to be happy. i don't wanna get in the way of that." but you managed to catch up to her, making her face you. "that's not what that was, okay? he's not my type." and you got her full attention, "like i won't deny he's easy on the eyes and i think he deserves a girl who'll make him happy, but that's not me. i kissed him because i wanted to distract myself from my feelings. and i'm bad at talking about my feelings. so i just push them down and pray that they'll disappear over time but... some stuff just stays."

robin was trying to understand what you meant, she couldn't exactly understand who you were referring to, "so what are you saying exactly?"

"i like you." you blurted out, "maybe even love you. you're my best friend, and i didn't wanna ruin years of friendship because of how i felt about you. and you have a crush on vickie, which is cool. i'm happy for you, but i just... can't go on without being honest with myself. and i'm sorry if i'm talking too much and i-" but the buckley had cut you off with a kiss. and this time around, it felt great, and it felt real. the feelings and emotions were all there on both ends. she pulled away a few inches to just rest her forehead against yours, "i feel the exact same way. for years, actually."

you gasped in surprised and lightly and playfully punched her shoulder, "are you serious? why didn't you say anything?"

"i didn't think you'd feel the same." and she pulled away from your face with a big smile on her face, "especially since i thought you were straight and i didn't wanna ruin our friendship." and the two of you giggled like idiots. you brought her into another kiss before hugging her tightly, "we're both such idiots."

"yeah, pretty much." she chuckled.

[mpregtales]

Leo & Nate Part 4

As Leo entered his sixth month of pregnancy, he felt enormous. His belly had grown into a massive, round dome that projected far in front of him, making him look as though he were already in his eighth month. The weight of the triplets was taking its toll, and Leo found it increasingly difficult to move around as easily as before. Simple tasks that once took no effort now required careful planning and frequent breaks.

Around this time, Leo began to notice changes in his pecs. The skin felt more tender, and he saw that the color of his nipples was growing darker. His body was beginning to prepare for breastfeeding, another reminder of the incredible journey he was on. Every day brought new sensations, new adjustments, and with them, a growing sense of anticipation.

Leo’s bubble butt, which had been steadily growing throughout his pregnancy, had now blossomed into a sight that took Nate’s breath away. His cheeks were plump, full, and perfectly round, protruding out from behind him in a way that was impossible to ignore. The pillowing cheeks, combined with his thickening thighs and widening hips, created a voluptuous figure that emphasized the life he was carrying. Nate couldn’t help but admire the changes, often finding himself captivated by the sight of Leo’s body as it continued to transform.

One morning, Leo stood in front of the mirror, cradling his belly and feeling the kicks from within. He had initially felt insecure about how much his body had changed, missing the days of his tight muscle butt cheeks and defined abs. His athletic build had always been a source of pride, but now he was carrying something entirely different—a testament to the love he had found and the life he was bringing into the world. He turned to the side, admiring his perfectly shaped, mammoth bubble butt, and gave his left cheek a playful smack, watching it jiggle. The sight made him laugh, and with that, he found a newfound confidence in his body that he hadn’t had before.

He never imagined he’d be here, halfway through his pregnancy with triplets, pregnant by his stunningly beautiful artist fiancé, madly and deeply in love. It was a moment of bliss—something his younger self could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

Given the size his body had grown, Leo decided to take an early paternity leave. It was becoming increasingly tough to take the train and commute to the office in Manhattan. Although he usually encountered kind people on the subway who noticed his pregnancy and offered him a seat, he knew it was time to give his body the rest it needed. He still played music with his band, though with the size of his growing belly, holding his guitar was becoming more challenging. They had a gig tonight, which would be his last for a little while. It felt like the right decision.

As they tuned their instruments and adjusted the microphones, Leo felt a mix of excitement and nostalgia. This venue had seen them through countless performances, and now, it would witness his last one for a while. He looked around at the small stage where they had spent so many nights, pouring their hearts into the music, and he couldn’t help but smile. Tonight would be special.

The crowd trickled in, filling the space with a buzz of anticipation. The band kicked off the night with a high-energy set, diving into some of their favorite rock classics. They opened with Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll,” the driving beat and electrifying guitar riffs setting the tone for the evening. The crowd responded with enthusiasm, swaying and singing along, their energy feeding into the band’s performance.

As the night went on, they moved through a mix of old and new songs, each one a testament to the band’s journey together. They played “Gimme Shelter” by The Rolling Stones, the haunting vocals and powerful rhythm echoing through the room, followed by a cover of “Baba O’Riley” by The Who, the iconic synthesizer intro sending a thrill through the audience.

But it was during one particularly soulful song that Leo felt something extraordinary. The band had just launched into “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd, a song that had always held special meaning for Leo. The gentle strumming of the guitar and the poignant lyrics seemed to resonate deep within him, connecting with something primal and profound.

As he sang, Leo felt the babies move inside him, a soft fluttering that gradually intensified. The rhythm of the music seemed to sync with the movements, as if the little lives growing within him were responding to the melody. It was a surreal moment—standing on stage, feeling so at home, knowing that his children were already sharing in the love for music that he and Nate held so dearly.

The sensation sent a wave of emotion through Leo, his voice growing even more tender as he sang the lyrics that had always touched his soul. The connection between the music and the lives inside him was palpable, and he found himself cradling his belly with one hand, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and love.

As the final notes of the song faded into the air, the crowd erupted into applause, but Leo remained in the moment, his hand still resting on his belly, a smile playing on his lips. The night continued with more songs, but that moment during “Wish You Were Here” lingered in his mind, a beautiful memory he would cherish forever.

For their encore, the band chose “Heroes” by David Bowie, a song that had become something of an anthem for them. The powerful lyrics and driving beat filled the room, and as Leo belted out the chorus, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the journey he was on. He was surrounded by friends, by music, by the love of his life, and by the three little miracles growing inside him. It was more than he had ever dared to hope for, and he savored every second of it.

As they wrapped up the night, Leo felt a sense of fulfillment wash over him. The final gig had been everything he hoped it would be—a celebration of music, of love, and of the life that was soon to come. He knew that he would miss performing, but he also knew that the next chapter of his life would be just as exciting, if not more so.

Meanwhile, Nate continued to work on his paintings, pouring his emotions and energy into each piece. But as Leo’s pregnancy progressed, Nate found himself taking on more tasks around the house—chores that Leo was finding more difficult as his body grew larger. Nate cooked, cleaned, and made sure everything was in order, wanting to ease Leo’s burden as much as possible. Leo appreciated Nate’s support and effort, feeling loved and cared for in ways that words couldn’t fully express.

Yet, as Nate stepped into these new responsibilities, the reality of impending fatherhood weighed heavily on his mind. He was terrified. Having never known his parents, and with no relationship with his father, Nate worried that he didn’t know how to be a good father. What if he messed it up? What if he wasn’t enough for Leo or their children? The fear gnawed at him, making him doubt himself in moments of quiet reflection.

These fears extended beyond fatherhood. Nate was deeply in love with Leo and their unborn children, and that love made everything feel almost too good to be true. His life had been filled with upheaval and struggle, and now that he had finally found happiness, a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. He was scared of unexpectedly losing Leo, of having this newfound happiness ripped away from him.

Leo, ever perceptive, noticed the tension in Nate’s demeanor and knew something was weighing on him. One evening, as they lay in bed, Leo turned to Nate, his voice gentle and reassuring.

“Nate, you’ve been quiet lately,” Leo said softly, reaching out to take Nate’s hand. “What’s on your mind?”

Nate hesitated, but the concern in Leo’s eyes made him open up. “I’m scared, Leo,” he admitted, his voice wavering. “I’m scared that I won’t be a good father. I never knew my parents, and I don’t have a clue what it means to be a dad. What if I mess it all up?”

Leo squeezed Nate’s hand, his heart aching for the man he loved. “Nate, I understand why you’re scared. But you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be there, and I know you will be. You’re already doing so much, taking care of me, taking care of us. You’re going to be an amazing father because you care, because you love us so deeply. That’s all our children will need.”

Nate nodded, though his eyes still held a hint of doubt. “But what if something happens? What if I lose you? I’ve never been this happy, Leo. It feels almost too good to be true, and I’m terrified of losing it.”

Leo’s eyes softened as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Nate’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Nate. We’ve been through so much already, and we’ll face whatever comes our way together. I love you, and I’m not going to let fear take away what we have. We’re going to be okay.”

Nate exhaled, the tension slowly easing from his body as Leo’s words sank in. He wrapped his arms around Leo, holding him close as they lay together, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

“I love you, Leo,” Nate whispered, his voice steadier now. “Thank you for always knowing what to say.”

Leo smiled, his heart swelling with affection. “I love you too, Nate. We’re in this together, and we’re going to make it through, one day at a time.”

They shared a deep, lingering kiss, a reaffirmation of the love and trust they had built together. As they drifted off to sleep, the worries that had weighed on Nate’s mind began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of peace and readiness for the journey ahead.

Soon after, Leo entered his seventh month of pregnancy, and he felt bigger than he ever imagined possible. His belly had expanded to a size that made him look like someone overdue with a single baby, but he knew he still had much more growing to do. The massive, round dome stretched far in front of him, the taut skin gleaming with a healthy glow. His belly was so prominent that it almost seemed to defy gravity, a testament to the three lives he was carrying inside.

But it wasn’t just his belly that had grown. Leo’s glutes had continued their transformation, evolving from their earlier roundness into a full, sumptuous shape that jutted out behind him with a pronounced curve. His cheeks were now plump and firm, creating a striking silhouette that drew the eye wherever he went. The fullness of his backside was complemented by his thickened thighs, which had grown to support the weight of his belly and the expanding width of his hips. Each step he took caused his cheeks to bounce very noticeably.

His hips had widened significantly, giving him a broader, more balanced frame that seemed perfectly suited for the task of carrying triplets. His body had become a striking figure of fertility and strength, every inch of him a testament to the life growing within.

Despite the sheer size of his body, Leo was in awe of what he was experiencing. The sensation of his skin stretching, the pressure of his growing belly, and the subtle shifts in his glutes and thighs all combined to create a unique physical experience that was both overwhelming and beautiful. He could feel his body working tirelessly to nurture his babies, the weight of them pressing down on his pelvis, making each movement deliberate and measured. His pecs had continued to change as well, becoming more tender as his body prepared for the eventual task of breastfeeding. The darkened color of his nipples stood out against the pale skin of his chest, another reminder of the changes yet to come.

As he grew larger, Leo became more aware of the space he occupied. He had to be careful when moving through doorways or navigating around furniture, the sheer size of his belly making it difficult to maneuver with the same ease as before. But with each new challenge, Leo found himself embracing the changes, proud of what his body was doing and eager to meet the three little ones who had brought about such a transformation.

With his seventh month in full swing, it was time for the baby shower—a celebration that Leo and Nate had been looking forward to for weeks. The event was held at their home, which had been carefully decorated with soft pastels, balloons, and streamers. The living room was filled with the warm, welcoming scent of flowers and the laughter of friends and family.

Uncle Jack’s family arrived first, with Jack giving Leo a warm hug, careful not to press too hard against his belly. “Look at you, Leo,” Jack said, a wide grin on his face. “You’re absolutely glowing.”

Aunt Kay and their daughters, Denise and Ash, soon followed, each taking turns to marvel at Leo’s belly and the changes in his body. “You look amazing,” Denise said as she placed a gentle hand on Leo’s belly. “Those babies are going to be so loved.”

The bandmates were next, bringing their own brand of lively energy to the party. They teased Leo about taking a break from performing but were full of genuine happiness for him. “We can’t wait to meet the little rock stars,” Tony, the bassist, joked as he handed Leo a gift-wrapped package.

Nate’s art school friends arrived soon after, their presence adding a creative flair to the gathering. They admired Nate’s latest paintings, which were displayed throughout the house, and took turns congratulating Leo on the impending arrival of the triplets. The mix of people from different parts of their lives created a warm, inclusive atmosphere, making the day feel even more special.

As the afternoon wore on, the guests gathered in the living room for the opening of gifts. Leo and Nate sat together on the couch, surrounded by piles of brightly wrapped presents. The air was filled with laughter and excited chatter as Leo unwrapped tiny onesies, soft blankets, and adorable toys, each one a reminder of the life-changing journey ahead. The outpouring of love and support from their friends and family was overwhelming, and Leo found himself blinking back tears of gratitude more than once.

At one point during the party, Leo felt a familiar flutter in his belly and reached for Nate’s hand, placing it on his stomach. “Feel that?” Leo whispered, his voice full of wonder. “They’re moving.”

Nate smiled, his eyes shining with emotion as he felt the tiny kicks against his palm. He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “I can’t wait to meet them, Leo,” he said softly, his voice thick with love. “You’re incredible.”

Leo turned to look at Nate, their eyes meeting in a moment of deep connection. “I couldn’t do this without you,” Leo replied, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re my rock, Nate. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Leo,” Nate whispered back, his voice barely audible as he leaned in to kiss Leo gently on the lips. The kiss was tender, filled with the unspoken promises of their future together.

After the gifts were opened and the cake was cut, the guests began to mingle, sharing stories and laughter as they moved throughout the house. Nate and Leo took a moment to themselves, stepping into the nursery that they had been preparing for the triplets.

The room was soft and serene, painted in calming shades of green and yellow. Three cribs stood in a row, each one carefully assembled by Nate and lovingly adorned with soft bedding and stuffed animals. The walls were decorated with artwork from Nate’s collection, along with a few pieces he had created specifically for the nursery—paintings of whimsical animals and dreamlike landscapes that would inspire their children’s imaginations.

As they stood together in the nursery, Leo rested his hands on his belly, feeling the gentle kicks of the triplets within. “It’s all starting to feel real now,” Leo said, his voice full of awe. “We’re really going to be parents.”

Nate wrapped his arms around Leo from behind, his hands joining Leo’s on his belly. “We are,” Nate agreed, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “And we’re going to be great parents. We’ve got so much love to give them.”

Leo leaned back into Nate’s embrace, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of the moment wash over him. “I’m so glad we’re in this together,” he murmured.

“Me too,” Nate replied, his lips brushing against Leo’s ear. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The rest of the baby shower passed in a blur of joy and celebration, with friends and family sharing in the excitement of the upcoming arrival. As the day drew to a close and the last of the guests said their goodbyes, Leo and Nate were left alone in their quiet home, the energy of the day still lingering in the air.

They sat together on the couch, surrounded by the gifts and decorations from the shower, their hearts full of love and anticipation. “We’ve got a lot to do to get ready,” Nate said, glancing around at the nursery. “But we’ve got time.”

Leo nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “We’ll get there,” he said confidently. “We’re already halfway there.”

And with that, they settled into the evening, ready to continue their journey together, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them as a team, bound by the love they had for each other and the family they were about to create.

As much as Leo found satisfaction and newfound confidence in his body, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unusually large for this stage of his pregnancy. Leo also began to notice a certain tenderness between his cheeks, accompanied by a subtle, pulsating sensation deep within his hole. It was a peculiar feeling, a blend of pressure and anticipation, as if his body were instinctively preparing itself for the stretch and strain of labor. The sensation, though unfamiliar, wasn’t entirely unwelcome; in fact, it had an unexpectedly arousing effect on Leo, leaving him both intrigued and slightly unsettled.

Later that week, it was time for Leo’s scheduled checkup. Given the changes he had been experiencing, Leo decided to ask the doctor to examine his entire body, particularly the areas where he had felt the pulsing sensation. He was eager for reassurance and to better understand what his body was going through.

In the examination room, the doctor, a seasoned professional who had guided Leo through his pregnancy thus far, instructed him to undress and get on all fours for a thorough check-up. Leo did as asked, positioning himself on the table, arching his back slightly to accommodate his massive belly, which hung low, almost touching the surface. His mountainous bubble butt jutted out prominently, a striking testament to the physical changes his body had undergone.

The doctor approached with a calm, reassuring demeanor, beginning the examination by gently placing his hands on Leo’s glutes. “Your glutes are filling in perfectly,” the doctor remarked, his voice steady and composed. “Your hips are widening just as they should be, preparing your body for birth.”

Leo, still feeling self-conscious about his size, decided to voice his concerns. “Doctor, I feel like I’m much larger than I should be at this stage. Is that normal?”

The doctor paused in his examination, offering Leo a warm, understanding smile. “It’s not uncommon for someone carrying triplets to be larger than average, especially as you progress into the later stages of pregnancy. Your body is adapting to accommodate three growing babies, which means your belly, hips, and glutes will all expand more than they would in a single pregnancy. What you’re experiencing is expected, even if it feels overwhelming.”

Reassured by the doctor’s explanation, Leo nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. The doctor then continued with the examination, gently parting Leo’s cheeks to assess the area more closely. His movements were careful and precise, ensuring Leo’s comfort.

“Everything looks good here,” the doctor continued after a moment, his tone reassuring. “The muscles in your pelvic region, particularly around your anus, are beginning to prepare for the stretching that will happen during birth. The pulsing sensation you’ve been feeling is your body’s natural way of getting ready for delivery. It’s a sign that everything is progressing as it should.”

Leo listened intently, a mix of relief and understanding washing over him. The doctor’s words were comforting, easing his concerns.

“The tenderness you’ve noticed,” the doctor added, “is likely due to the skin between your cheeks becoming more sensitive. As your glutes have grown larger, there’s increased pressure and friction in that area, which can cause some discomfort. It’s all part of your body’s adjustment to the changes happening.”

Leo nodded again, absorbing the information. Knowing that what he was experiencing was a normal part of his body’s preparation for birth brought him a sense of peace. It wasn’t just random discomfort—it was his body doing exactly what it needed to do.

As Leo reached his eighth month of pregnancy, his body had transformed into a stunning embodiment of life and strength. His belly had grown into an impressive, rounded dome that extended far in front of him, taut and full, the skin smooth and stretched to accommodate the triplets growing inside. It was a sight that commanded attention, a clear and beautiful testament to the new life he was nurturing. Every movement he made was accompanied by the gentle swaying of his belly, its size and weight creating a sense of both power and grace.

Leo's pecs had also become fuller, their roundness undeniable, adding to the overall voluptuousness of his form. The once-subtle curves of his chest had developed into a soft, robust shape that filled out his shirts, making each piece of clothing cling to him in a way that accentuated his pregnancy. His glutes, already generous, had grown even larger to support the extra weight he was carrying. The added roundness to his hips gave his walk a graceful sway, each step a testament to the changes his body had embraced.

The fullness of Leo’s body was something Nate couldn’t help but admire. The way Leo's belly stretched out before him, the way his pecs filled out his shirts—it was all a testament to the strength, resilience, and beauty of the man he loved. Nate often found himself captivated by the sight, his admiration for Leo deepening with each passing day.

There was something mesmerizing about the way Leo’s body had changed, a powerful reminder of the life they had created together. Nate’s eyes would linger on Leo as he moved, whether he was simply walking across the room or resting with his hands cradling his belly. The love and reverence Nate felt for Leo grew with every glance, every shared moment, the connection between them strengthened by the journey they were on together.

As Leo's body grew, so did the intensity of his pregnancy hormones, and with them, the depth of his connection to Nate. One night, as they lay together in bed, a profound sense of closeness enveloped them—both emotional and physical. Nate’s hands moved over Leo’s body with reverence, tracing the new curves and contours that had formed as his pregnancy progressed. The touch ignited a passion between them that was impossible to ignore, their intimacy now deepened by the life growing within Leo.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private sanctuary. Nate’s hands glided gently over Leo’s massive belly, feeling the subtle kicks of their triplets in response to his touch. The sensation stirred something deep within Leo, a desire that built with every caress. Nate’s hands traveled back to Leo’s pillowing glutes, the fullness of which had become even more pronounced as his pregnancy advanced.

Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss, the wetness and gentle scrape of Nate’s scruff sending shivers down Leo’s spine. The pulsing sensation in his hole returned, more intense than before, causing Leo to moan softly, his pregnancy hormones reaching a fevered pitch.

“Nate, I’m feeling that pulse again—it’s so intense,” Leo whispered, his voice tinged with both excitement and need.

Nate’s eyes darkened with desire as he responded, his voice husky, “Any ideas of how we can take care of that? ”

Overcome by the surge of emotion and desire, Leo rolled onto all fours, his enormous, triplet-filled belly resting gently against the bed. He arched his back, thrusting his generous cheeks out, presenting himself to Nate with a mix of vulnerability and confidence.

Nate’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of Leo’s transformed body. The evidence of Leo’s pregnancy was fully on display, and it left him speechless, his admiration quickly turning into an overwhelming desire. As Leo subtly thrust his hips back, the rhythmic motion caused his cheeks to bounce, each movement sending a surge of longing through Nate, drawing him closer with an irresistible pull. Nate had always loved Leo’s body, but seeing him like this brought his admiration to a whole new level.

Nate moved closer, his hands gently parting Leo’s cheeks, revealing his vulnerable, intimate, pulsing entrance. His breath caught as he admired the view before him. The desire between them was palpable, and Leo’s body responded instinctively, his full, rounded cheeks subtly jiggling as he adjusted his position, creating a visual that made Nate’s pulse quicken.

With a careful, loving touch, Nate positioned himself behind Leo, the moment filled with tenderness and anticipation. In one fluid motion, Nate discarded his boxers, revealing his hardened length. He slowly guided himself between Leo’s cheeks, entering him with care, as Leo moaned at the sensation of being stretched and filled by his fiance’s impressive girth. The stretching sensation was intense, but it filled Leo with a profound sense of satisfaction and connection.

Every part of Leo’s body seemed to fit perfectly with Nate’s, each movement bringing them closer, both physically and emotionally. The weight of Leo’s belly, the life they had created together, made the experience even more profound. As Nate’s thrusts picked up speed, their moans grew louder, the intensity of the moment enveloping them both. Leo wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy, but this was the most satisfying sex of his life. It fulfilled him in every way, making him feel whole.

Nate leaned forward, planting soft kisses along Leo’s neck, his hand reaching down to cradle Leo’s rocking belly. Leo’s huge, ripe glutes bounced in rhythm with Nate’s thrusts, each movement a reminder of the love and life they had created together. The sensation of Leo’s pregnancy-thickened, plump cheeks against him, the way they moved with a natural rhythm, intensified the moment for Nate, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy.

As they reached their climax, a wave of pleasure and love washed over them, leaving them trembling in its wake. Nate dismounted gently, and they lay on their sides, their bodies still intertwined, tenderly kissing each other, their hands cradling Leo’s growing belly. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated connection, one that solidified their bond in ways words could never describe.

Breathless and overwhelmed with emotion, Nate whispered, “I love you, Leo. More than anything.”

Leo smiled, his heart full as he replied, “I love you too, Nate. You and our babies—you’re my everything.”

They lay together in the quiet of the night, their bodies still humming with the afterglow of their lovemaking, secure in the knowledge that the love they shared would guide them through whatever the future held.

Leo & Nate Part 5

[epicthemusical]

A Man with a Trail of Bodies

WARNING THUNDER SAGA SPOILERS

@theultimatenonbinarynerd here is the prompt you sent me!

“Choose, you or your crew.” Eurylochus watches as Odysseus is given the choice and he already knows who they would choose. Why would he die for the crew after everything they have done?

No it's not the crew's fault but his. He is the one that opened the wind bag and openly argued with Odysseus in front of the crew. He is the one who led the mutiny and the crew followed him, stabbing his brother in the back. Even after all that they had been through He is the one that decided to ignore Odysseus’ begging to leave the blasted cows alone. The longer the silence goes on the heavier he feels the guilt weighing on him.

“Eurylochus, will you swear to keep my family safe?” It takes a bit to process the question

“…Captain? What do you mean?” He couldn't really be choosing to die right? He watches Odysseus grit his teeth with tears in his eyes.

“The prophet said there will be a man with a trail of bodies near my wife and I need to know you will do anything in your power to keep my son and wife safe. Please swear to me that you will not let them be harmed!”

“I swear I will keep them safe.” No wonder Odysseus was different after the talk with the prophet. The one thing that would cause Odysseus to disregard the lives of the crew to get home would be him knowing his family was in danger. The only thing that would have him change so drastically.

“But Captain, what about you? Wouldn't they need their husband and father there?” That's the one thing he can't understand. Why is he choosing the crew now after what they had done? Why would he not fight to get home to his family?

Odysseus turns to face Eurylochus and he is obviously fighting back tears and his eyes are full of guilt and exhaustion.

“Because… I have become a monster. I can't let them see what I have become. I am worried that I will end up hurting them. It's best they never know about the blood on my hands. I'm sorry..for everything.”

Eurylochus grits his teeth and blinks away tears. “Okay Captain….. I swear I will take care of your family like they were my own. Thank you for everything Captain.” Odysseus nods with a grateful smile and takes a deep breath before turning back to Zeus.

“I choose myself to die.” Zeus looks shocked at his decision before an amused smirk spread across his face

“Very well then Odysseus of Ithaca. You shall die for the sins of your crew.” Zeus forms a lightning bolt and throws it at Odysseus. The crew looks away from the blinding light, the sound just barely covering the screams.

Zeus leaves at last his job done leaving the crew to grieve for their Captain. Their Captain, in the end, chose to save them.

---------

They cremate Odysseus on the next island they reach making sure to show him the respect he deserves. There are no storms on the way to Ithaca, Poseiden having been satisfied with Odysseus' death.

When they finally return to Ithaca they all head to the palace. Along the way they hear whispers of the terrible suitors polluting the palace and they frown. They reach the palace and are shocked to see just how many suitors there are.

After listening and watching their fury grows at the disgusting men that wish to claim Penelope like she was a prize to be won. They are all in agreement as they slaughter them all making sure to leave none alive. Before long Eurylochus finds himself kneeling before Penelope.

“Queen Penelope, I regret to inform you that your husband, Odysseus has passed away on his journey home.” Eurylochus hands the urn with Odysseus ashes to her.

“I would like to know how he died…. but first I will have the servant girls set up rooms for you so you can clean up.” Eurylochus nods in understanding. She was obviously trying to stay strong.

“Of course I swore to Odysseus to keep you safe so I intend to make good on that oath.Both me and the remaining crew will give our lives to keep you and your son safe. Thank you for your hospitality and we are sorry for your loss.”

The men are each assigned a room and Eurylochus sends away the servants before starting to wash off all the blood and grime. As he stares at the red and grey tinted water a realization hits him.

HE Is the man with his captain's wife, the one with a trail of bodies. The guilt and grief become overwhelming, feeling like it is choking him. He breaks down in the bath letting out all the emotions that had been locked away.

Once he calms down he finishes bathing and he swears, to himself this time, to keep Penelope and Telemachus safe in Odysseus' place. It's the least he could do after all.

[shineemoon]

SHINee ✨ CLASH Magazine (August 2023) FULL Interview → HERE

As humans we’re constantly evolving; how have the members’ identities shifted since the release of ‘Don’t Call Me’ (2021), and how is this change reflected on ‘Hard’? KEY: After ‘Don’t Call Me’, I’ve personally gained more confidence, and had the opportunity to experience many new things. With that said, I feel honoured and grateful to have received even more love. TAEMIN: I decided to give myself a break and not to be so hard on myself. I wanted to focus more on the feelings of happiness and the positive energy that people give me from recognizing my work instead of contemplating what I’m lacking and overanalyzing my shortcomings. And because I was able to take a different approach and attitude toward this album, I was able to enjoy this promotion and feel more comfortable. MINHO: I feel that we took another step forward through ‘Don’t Call Me’ and also showcased a new side to SHINee with our eighth full-length album. I do want to express that we haven’t changed after ‘Don’t Call Me’ – I’d word it that we’re continuously growing and evolving.

I watched videos taken from the latest concert – SHINee World VI – and could hear how much fans enjoyed your older tracks and watching you enjoy performing them. Recently, On MBC World’s I Live Alone, however, Key was looking back on the difficulties of performing such songs as four members, and I wondered when that feeling began to ease and the members grew to love performing their classics again. ALL: Being SHINee allows us to share our past, present, and future vision together. Although it’s not always easy, we hope that those who watch our performances never feel a gap or emptiness. The unwavering support and love from our fans have been instrumental in helping us recover and strengthen our bond with them. We’re truly grateful and fortunate, and always genuinely wish for our voices to reach the skies and the heavens when we sing.

The words ‘icons’ and ‘legends’ get thrown around too easily these days but SHINee really are both. Does it seem real for you, especially as you’re still an active, progressive group? Do you ever consider the band’s legacy and what you’d like that, ultimately, to be? KEY: I believe that we’re currently shaping SHINee ourselves. I feel that it wasn’t wrong for us to try to create and shape our own path and, actually, I’m curious about where this journey will lead us to in the end. MINHO: Rather than focusing on a specific end goal, we’ll always strive to fill our days with happiness alongside our members, staff, and our beloved fans. But I’m always grateful for the compliments we receive, and although it may feel challenging to live up to those descriptors, we’ll make it happen. TAEMIN: One of my juniors once said to me, ‘I feel like idols’ careers are extending because you continue to be active. Thank you.’ Hearing those words made me feel proud because it seems like we’re pioneering something, and when I see friends who consider me as their role model, it also helps me release all the built-up stress inside of me. Because of that, I feel a sense of motivation, I want to work even harder to inspire people, and I hope SHINee will be remembered as a group that continues to shine and remains in people’s hearts for generations to come.

[lyaswriting]

A Second Chance

Childe x Female!God!reader Reincarnation AU

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, no beta we die like Rex Lapis

„I will return to you. Pinky promise.“

The whispered promise still lingered in her mind, where it had been for centuries, as Y/N walked through the park outside of a changed Mondstadt, quickly looking before crossing the street so she wouldn‘t be hit by a car, while taking a sip from her coffee. So she entered the park, that looked like it was a bit of a window into a past she sometimes barely remembered for how long it had been. Yet here she could still sometimes sit down and remember, occasionally still having to defend from a few slimes or other elemental beings, but to Y/N it was worth it, if only for the memories. Y/N had watched, as the times had changed after the fall of Celestia, after visions were no longer necessary to control elemental powers and after humanity decided to take matters into their own hands. She had watched as civilizations had risen and fallen, as people had embarked on journeys greater than they could imagine, as lovers had found their way back to each other, proving themselves that true love does exist.

And yet, Y/N thought, mine is the exception. As her lover had never returned, even though he promised. But he had tried, oh how he had fought to come back to her, but in the end it hadn‘t been enough.

And so, to make peace with the past or to not forget it, she didn‘t really know, she began writing down the stories, and adventures she had seen and lived. And she had written many about her once friends, as she felt each of their stories deserved to be told. And yet, as if to mock her once more, none sold better than the Story about the True Love between the Harbinger and the Goddess of Dreams. Although people often complained about the story having such a grim ending. But that was the harsh truth, that some stories did not have a happy ending.

If she listened into herself she could still remember their first meeting as if it had been merely days ago. She had just awoken from a slumber the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles had put her under, so she had decided to join Aether, the brave outlander, in his cause and traveled the world. That was when she had met the ginger haired Harbinger in Liyue, before the Rite of Descension.

In the Guili Plains she had fought some vishaps that had attacked her, she remembered, and was close to winning the fight, growing confident in her powers, as someone jumped into the middle of the fight, flashing two identical hydro blades, and before she knew it, the vishaps lay dead before them.

„Excuse me, but I had that under control!“, Y/N told the young man a bit rudely, who in return only put away the blades, and turned around slowly, grinning.

„Is that so?“, he said, looking her over before looking at her mildly enraged face.

„Yes. I was testing my fighting abilities, not to mention cutting in, jumping in without asking if I need help is rude.“

„I‘m sorry then. I can see now that you are perfectly capable of handling yourself. Maybe I can take you out to dinner, as an apology?“, he offered, while trying to look guilty, and failing.

„Do you always ask out women this way? Try to charm them after saving their lives?“

„So you do admit I saved your life?“, and he‘d smirked, oh that smirk.

„I did not mean it that way.“

„Of course you didn‘t“

„You didn‘t even tell me your name yet“, she bit back then, which he countered„And you didn‘t give me an answer“

„Fine, if you insist.“

„Perfect, I‘m Ajax by the way.“, he said, a dashing smile on his face, and equally smiling she answered,„Y/N“.

A little smile snuck onto her face, before it faded and she remembered how the whole story had ended. It had been centuries, and yet her heart had not healed. Some people you love so much that they leave a mark behind when they go, Zhongli had once said after the Battle against Celestia, familiar of the pain Y/N felt. And sometimes, he had said, they refuse to leave either, returning one way or another. But that was only wishful thinking, she knew, as she looked down at her hands, still almost seeing the blood that had stained them so long ago.

She‘d found the Harbinger after the battle, but instead of being fine like he promised, there was a gaping wound in his stomach, leaking blood just like the dozens of cuts on his body. His eyes had lighted up at seeing her, even if his smile was more melancholic as she kneeled next to him.

„Hey girlie.“

„What… you‘ll be fine. We‘ll get you to Barbara or Baizhu. You‘ll be fine.“

At that, he raised a hand to cup her cheek, making her look at him.

„Girlie, it‘s too late. Even if you…“, he coughed at this moment, she remembered, and he‘d coughed up blood, „even if they come… I used Foul Legacy for too long… my life is spent.“

„No, no, no… This cannot be. There has to be a way, I‘m a goddess, that has to count for something… I can figure something out, I just need time…“, Tears streamed down her face at this point violently shaking her, as she felt his breathing slow down, his voice raspy, „I wish we‘d have that time. But you, Y/N, were the best thing I could have hoped for. You were my dream.“

„Please don‘t leave me, I can‘t… I can‘t…“

„I will return to you. Pinky promise.“

Those had been the last words the Harbinger had ever said. And since then, every year she had returned to the park, to the same tree he had leaned against in his final moments, as if it could somehow make her feel closer to him.

That was when she heard it in the distance by the lake, fighting noices near the lake.

„If it is those damn hydro slimes again, I swear…“, she muttered under her breath, as she ran to the lake, already summoning her powers in her hand, throwing it at the slimes as soon as she saw them, apparently much to the dismay of their opponent.

„And here I thought I‘d get a little practice, but I guess not…“, the guy muttered.

That voice, that voice she had heard in her own dreams for a few hundred years now. It couldn‘t be, could it?

Y/N turned around, her heart beating so fast she would be scared if she weren‘t a goddess. And there he stood, as if he had never been gone, ginger hair tousled from the fight, hydro blades still in his hands.

„Anything particular you are staring at? Wanna spar perhaps after you destroyed my guinea pigs?“

He still had a playful tone, she noticed, but one look told her, that he didn‘t know who she was. Her heart sank a bit, before she caught herself, nearly laughing at the irony of their meeting.

„I… I‘m sorry, that was rude. I just thought someone might need help again and then I jumped in, completely disregarding your apparent dislike for help… I‘m sorry.“

„Apology accepted.“

„Even though, with those blades you wouldn‘t have gotten far against them, you know that right? Hydro vs Hydro and all.“

„Opinion noted.“

She laughed at that, an idea forming in her head.

„Opinion? You‘re welcome. But if you insist, may I take you out on dinner, to make it up?“

He studied her then, something seemingly pulling him in.

„I‘m sorry, I didn‘t get your name, did I? I‘m Ajax.“, and with that he stretched out his hand to her, which she shook, and smiled.

„I‘m Y/N“.

Ajax paused for a second, a feeling gnawing at him, as if he should remember something he doesn‘t, it was easy to read for Y/N, after all she had known him once before.

„Have we met once before?“, he asked, staring at her curiously.

„We kind of did. But I think you wouldn‘t believe me if I told you, it‘s apparently kind of a neverending story…“, she answered truthfully, looking into his blue eyes, full of life this time, and more mesmerizing than ever.

„Try me“, he said then, „maybe at that dinner you offered?“

And he smirked, oh that smirk.

And Y/N smiled too.

Maybe Zhongli had been right, that some people are bound to each other, and maybe Ajax had kept his promise too, he had found a way to return to Y/N.

[limbus-limousine]

Keep saying this but I loooove how relationships are talked about and portrayed in Demian (1919). Like. To an insane degree that I can barely put into words. It bothers me how overlooked it is sometimes? People always have a tendency to shove fictional relationships into very cramped, defined little boxes and then fight over the plastic label.

The way relationships are seen in Demian is one of the main reasons why I hold this book so close to my heart, because it was the first time I saw my thoughts put into words that I could analyze and study. That and the whole premise of how growing up in a religiously oppressive environment disguised with love and purity will inevitably affect how you process your feelings toward others... Makes me relate to Sinclair a lot. And it feels like a gross oversimplification to restrict his feelings as platonic or romantic.

I've talked about how I see Demian and Eva as extremely related entities before, how they are essentially the same. But I think their distinction as physical characters is very useful for the storytelling and symbolism. As I see it, Demian (the book) is all about love. It's not just about finding love in someone else but also finding love in yourself, in what you do and where you are in your life. This might be more of a personal interpretation, but to me, Eva represents a very, very specific feeling, in a way it's a culmination, a point where you finally stop to think and say to yourself "maybe I am okay. This is what okay feels like to me". Freudian influence aside... The motherly themes hit me really hard for this very reason:

When I read how Sinclair slowly fell out with his family, it spoke of a very specific experience. A very specific realization. "This deal isn't that of a bad friendship or acquaintance. I won't have a second chance. Simply because of how I was born, where I was born, there are human experiences that I'll never be able to know, and I am powerless to change that", you cannot choose your family, your mother, right? It's what you get, and you see around you what could've been but never was, and it makes you feel weak.

That's why Frau Eva is such an important figure. Because that is when Sinclair finds his family again, in a way. Why should blood matter so much? Sure, there's a biological connection, it's also been studied that romantic relationships reach their "high" during their earlier days due to hormones and neurotransmitters, right, "love at first sight", but those will eventually cease production as all does. It is your choice to nurture that relationship and to cherish it, to keep and to care for it. Blood does not matter, home is a person and it's right next to me, right now. I think that is what Frau Eva is, as a whole. And allowing that feeling to coexist with the platonic and the romantic is very important as I see it. One of the main problems of this motherly dynamic is the power difference, what makes Sinclair struggle in his childhood is the constant sensation of being watched, of being subjected to severe judgement. Frau Eva is supposed to remove that factor, she listens and she welcomes any thought or idea, there isn't fear of rejection or punishment, that's what makes it feel "like home". That was, kind of, the last step to reach the fulfillment Sinclair needed. I see Eva as the "destination" of this whole thing.

And Demian, he is the journey. One of the biggest mistakes one can make is to dismiss the process and work that goes into an achievement, because it is important. There is no Eva without Demian, they are intrinsic by nature. And journey is something that never leaves you. Even when Sinclair reaches his destination, he never stops caring about Demian. He visits Eva and he visits Demian, even if he has to walk through horrible weather, he speaks of his dreams to them, and he sits at the table and eats with them. Because during your journey you gain so many things you never expected, and at the end of the road, they become part of your fulfillment and needs as much as the main achievement is.

What Sinclair obtains from Demian and Eva, and everything in between them, is a unique relationship, deeply fulfilling, trusting, reassuring, a place where you know you can come to, even when you're at your lowest. Eva capitalizes on the genuine care, nurturing qualities, but Demian, too is a mentor, although I find falconer to be a better comparison. He helps the sparrowhawk grow its clipped wings, but in turn, he shall not stop it from flying, only the bird itself can choose to return the falconer's affections. But at the end of the day, all the falconer wishes for is to see him take flight. Sinclair obtains everything: friendship, camaraderie, acceptance, relief of a deep rooted guilt, no judgement for his human desires, the care and trust he lost from his mother, and something to look forward to after waking up in the mornings.

At the end of the book, Sinclair is separated from both of them, as I've said, they are intrinsic. But of course, they don't fully leave. As I see it, the kiss being from Eva means that your achievement is and will always be a sweet thought. Something you hold dear, that you can think of to comfort yourself. But Demian is there to deliver it and to fix Sinclair's wounds because journey is experience. It is what strengthens you and gives you the tools to face future endeavors. And it feels safe... You are finally safe within yourself.

But what about the scary factor, though? Because that is present too in both Demian and Eva (which I happen to really enjoy, as well). As always, I think it's a balance. It's good to know fear, it's a human emotion like any other. But the fear that radiates from them is more... Animal-like. The fear Sinclair once felt was a deep rooted terror that was born from something divine. You're being watched. You're being judged. You're wrong. You're a sinner. That's scary. Because it's telling you that the danger comes from yourself. When you see a beast staring into you, you don't feel self conscious, you don't feel repulsed, you feel the most natural shape that fear has. Beautiful things are scary. A snake can be scary. The stars can be scary. But it's not their fault, and it's not your fault either, it's just how it's meant to be. Because all feelings —love, anger, fear, sadness— and more, they are all important, they are all natural. But natural feelings can be beautiful. Artificial feelings make you fear something you've never witnessed, they make your stomach churn at the thought of yourself and they make you cry for something you haven't done. And most people around you live holding onto relationships that are, fundamentally, held by artificial feelings.

That is... Most of what I interpret from this book. And, god. It feels more like the book read me and not the other way around. I think I've truly found a bigger respite in art thanks to this novel. I have wanted to see the same beauty in the naturally grotesque... Learn about myself until rotting, flesh, maggots become just as beautiful and full of meaning as spring rivers and flowering plains, and for anger and fear to turn into something I can love and cherish like I do my inner child. Although they, too, have surely grown up.

That's it. I wanna play toysssss