#of course its back to feeling like dying 24/7 of course its wanting to starve myself of course its shing

[bleeding-cyanide]

ugh. vent in tags cuz notes app is too far away just keep scrolling dw abt it

[lollybliz]

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by  Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights.  Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm.  “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

[daddymaks]

No Nut November GC

I saw this tiktok that made me think... what if our capri boys did this.

Setting the scene I think modern au Lazar and Orlant get drunk at a halloween party and this is where the group chat stems from. Orlant thinks that lazar can't go a whole month without sex because that's all that is on his mind 24/7

Obviously Lazar thinks different and more highly of his self control. He doesn’t immediately agree to the bet until Orlant ignores his protests, Ancel makes a smartass comment, and Laurent raises an eyebrow like “really you wanna go there?”

When they get back home piss drunk lazar is in bed mocking what everyone has said about him and making himself more angry and upset.

Before he knocks out he goes to snapchat and creates a group chat with Him, Orlant, Laurent, Damen, Nikandros, Ancel, Berenger, Kallias, and Erasmus and titles it NO NUT NOVEMBER.

the boys are too tired to even acknowledge it so they leave it alone to deal with in the morning

So everyone is awake and lively the next day lazar immediately sends a text along the lines of “GOOD MORNING BITCHES! seems like a good month to enjoy abstain from those sinful delights.”

Everyone immediately tells him to fuck off and why is this even a thing. (They really need to stop making new group chats for everything.)

Ancel is the first one to leave before anything is even explained. When Lazar adds him back he tells them it could be a good way to make some money. To which he replies that he doesn’t need money and he rather fuck when he wants without consequences.

Everyone Nikandros is a betting man but he also worries about his friends boundaries because this does not seem like a normal thing that friends share with one another.

Laurent is game since he is competitive and its not like he hasn’t abstain from sexual activities before.

Damen on the other hand hates this whole thing and is convincing Laurent that this is not fair to him because everyone knows he's the next weakest link.

Laurent says that if they do this then they can have a nice date night with the money they make off their friends. To which Damen mulls over since date nights are always fun but that's still a long time to wait. Eventually he shuts up though since Laurent made up his mind.

Berenger doesn’t talk at all in the gc other than to tell them that this is idiotic and invasion of privacy. Everyone ignores him though. 

He doesn’t last that long in there anyways though because Ancel and his constant devious attention

Kallias and Erasmus are confused at first but also game because it seems like fun. They know no sense of boundaries with one another so it doesn’t bother them. They also make it pretty far into november, except kallias breaks first and then Erasmus quickly follows.

The main contenders are Nikandros, Laurent, Lazar, and Orlant. Which they are all surprised about.

Nikandro is too work focused that he doesn’t have time to nut.

Laurent has been fighting off Damens art of seduction

Orlant is just not having it to piss off Lazar.

Lazar is slowly dying from being touch starved but he’ll be damned if his friends give him shit.

November is almost over and laurent ended up losing the pool when damen and him reconciled after spending some time apart due to work traveling. Orlant loses as well and Lazar hates him because it was after they decided to go to Maks Bar and he got a drunk hookup in the bathroom.

So it’s really up to Lazar and Nikandros. The GC only contains the two of them and Lazar constantly blows it up bothering Nik about questions about how he’s holding up. To which Nik just says he stays busy and doesn’t mind. 

Lazar is of course dramatic and describes how he feels like he's a man lost out in see craving the touch and sight of another person.

Nikandros can't stand the wallowing so he silents the gc. He doesn’t know how he can handle one more week of Lazar bothering him and describing his old sex adventures in too much detail. 

He ends up lying and throwing the bet because if he has to listen to Lazar describe another orgy he will strangle the man.

Lazar is relieved he won and celebrates by fucking two men later that night.

Nik tells Lazar the truth weeks later when Lazar brings up his victory once again over drinks with the guys.

I didn’t go into so much detail as I would like to but this was a quick thought I had that I wanted to share.

Follow me on twitter if you wanna see more hc/aus I have for the guys.

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

Wei Wuxian rolls his hands, flattens them, and presses the seal into the dirt. A flash of scarlet bursts in the air, then a sudden swell of power, prickling, needling— It dissipates, and Wei Wuxian exhales, resting his wrists on his knees. Eyeing him a moment, Jiang Cheng turns back to the wards and reaches out with his spiritual energy to press tentatively at the barrier. It feels…strange. Alive in a way that doesn’t feel quite like spellwork but more like the cool distance Wei Wuxian kept up during the war. “That’s it, then?” he asks. Still crouched down, gaze longsighted, Wei Wuxian gives a slight nod. His hair’s drawn up high off his nape in a style he hasn’t worn since they were kids, and it sharpens the angles of his face, makes the new hollows and tired lines more apparent. Worry shivers in Jiang Cheng’s chest but he presses it down; he was worse during the war. He’s doing better. Jiang Cheng will bully him into getting some sleep now that the shields are done.

“It feels…different,” he admits eventually, turning back to the energy he can only barely sense before them.

“Mm,” Wei Wuxian hums as he straightens up. He sways, stumbles back half a step, but catches himself. “The trigger arrays in this one will ping any intruders. They’re really more a warning than a true defense. If someone crosses them when they’re live, they’ll hit the talisman traps and so on.” Nodding, Jiang Cheng crosses his arms over his chest and surveys the work. Nine layers, nine shields of warding and arrays spreading out from the center of Lotus Pier to encompass all the outer buildings and main dock. If there’s another attack, the city itself will still be at some risk, but there’s enough ground covered by these defenses that all the townspeople could take shelter and be protected. The knowledge makes something tighten in his chest, a fanged satisfaction baring its teeth. “It’s under your command but tied to the land,” Wei Wuxian continues, wiping his palms on his skirts. “You can grant authority to others but as long as Lotus Pier stands, the shields will hold.” He’d explained it as he worked, but his explanations tend to get…well, distracted, when he’s multitasking. Channeling resentful energy is still a little shaky as far as Jiang Cheng’s concerned, but he thinks he gets the basic premise. Like using residual spiritual energy, the arrays draw on the resentment naturally released by the dying things throughout the region. Flowers, trees, animals — over the generations, they build up enough that the outer arrays can draw off them without leaching too much vital energy. And for the arrays in the center, the strongest and most vicious — well, there are always bodies in the lakes. “Not the Tiger Seal?” he asks. Wei Wuxian’s face is unwontedly serious, drawn, as he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It’s… Think of it more like Chenqing. They draw from the energy around them but aren’t controlled by it. The only one who can command them is you, and whoever you grant access.” “So you and jiejie and Bujue,” Jiang Cheng suggests. Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose, dropping his hands to his hips. “Maybe just shijie and a-Jue,” he suggests instead. He says it too casually, nonchalant in a way he only is about serious things. Jiang Cheng scowls. “Why shouldn’t our da-shixiong have access?” he asks. “Ah don’t give me that look, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian gripes, shoving at his shoulder. “I just mean the more access you grant, the bigger the holes are. Like a fishing net where you keep widening the weave, pretty soon anything can get through. Anyway, it’s not like I couldn’t figure out a way in if I really needed to. I made the arrays, didn’t I?” Relenting, Jiang Cheng lets it go. It makes sense, he supposes, even if he’s not sure he believes Wei Wuxian fully. “Alright. So I just…tell it who to answer to?” he asks. Wei Wuxian hitches his shoulders in a little shrug as if to say ‘sure.’ Stepping forward and holding his palm flat until he can feel the shivering vibration of the ward, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. He can’t get a hold on this energy like he can his own qi, but he can feel it humming just shy of him. “Jiang Yanli,” he says and feels a ripple, an echo of sensation, course through the wards. “Yu Bujue.” He wants to add the third but holds back for now. Wei Wuxian will kick up a stink and anyway, he can always come back and change permissions now that he knows how. “Well then!” Wei Wuxian says, exhaling. “We’re all set. Ugh I’m starving. Do you think they cooked lunch already?” Jiang Cheng snorts but starts heading back. “Get some sleep tonight,” he says. “You’ve been pushing too hard and you agreed you’d take care of yourself. Last thing we need is a mess at the hunt.” Spinning Chenqing, Wei Wuxian scrunches up his face in annoyance. “I’m fine,” he insists. “The wards needed finished and it’s not like we got much done while Huaisang was here. Anyway, are you sure I have to come to the hunt? I could stay here and keep an eye on things while you and shijie are gone, make sure the defenses are ready, keep up training. The upper talisman class is really coming along, you know. They’re about ready for practical application.” He’s heard some variation of this argument about a dozen times over the last few months, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t hold back his eyeroll. If they were closer to the lake instead of on the far side of Lotus Pier, he’d just shove Wei Wuxian into the water and get it over with. “Yeah because coming to the Phoenix Hunt without our First Disciple and resident war hero won’t feed any rumors,” he retorts. “Anyway, you’ve still got to talk to Lan Wangji, remember?” That sours Wei Wuxian into silence. He kicks idly at a stick in his path, and Jiang Cheng eyes him a little curiously. He doesn’t know what happened between the two of them, and normally he wouldn’t care at all but — well, in those three months, he almost thought they’d be having a wartime wedding once they found Wei Wuxian. Incomprehensible as it was, Lan Wangji’s devotion to finding Wei Wuxian was simultaneously unnerving and deeply relieving. He’d been so sure that the sect leaders, the adults, the ones who actually knew what they were doing, would tell him to leave his hunt and let Wei Wuxian lie with the rest of the dead. When Lan Wangji stepped in at his side to join him, he’d finally been able to exhale a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding at the time. They weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination, but they’d had a common goal and shared fear. It was like they were both searching for their missing piece; Jiang Cheng for his brother and Lan Wangji for his — his something. Jiang Cheng still isn’t sure what, exactly, Wei Wuxian is to Lan Wangji. “I still think it’s a bad plan,” Wei Wuxian says stubbornly. “It’s a-jie’s idea,” Jiang Cheng reminds him in an attempt to end the conversation. “Shijie thinks the best of everyone,” Wei Wuxian points out. Jiang Cheng inclines his head in acknowledgment. On another day maybe, back in Cloud Recesses or before the war or if he weren’t so sick of this argument, he’d let it go with the acknowledgment that jiejie is far too kind for the vast majority of people in the world. But he is tired and he’s sick of Wei Wuxian pouting about this whole plan. “What happened between you two anyway?” he asks. “He was always in your tents playing music at you while you were half-dressed during the war.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Wei Wuxian shoots back, brow furrowed. It’s the frown that makes Jiang Cheng hesitate. He’d only been needling, venting some of his irritation by prodding at this easy opening, but now he pulls back. Wei Wuxian has always been a relentless flirt and overly affectionate with anyone he likes, but Jiang Cheng is almost certain he’s never actually acted on that. For all his irreverence and shamelessness, Wei Wuxian has an at times uncanny deference to morals. He might flirt and tease and drape his arms around shoulders, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t really believe he’d go to bed with someone if they weren’t serious, if they weren’t someone he meant to give himself over to fully. And anything less than that, Jiang Cheng is positive he would’ve heard about: Wei Wuxian would’ve crowed about getting a kiss from a pretty girl until Jiang Cheng beat him to death with a pillow. “Nothing,” he says, sighs. “I just — it was impossible to drag you away from him before the war and now you can’t stand to be around him. Did he say something to you?” They’d have a whole other rumor problem on their hands if Jiang Cheng punched Hanguang-jun in the face, but for his brother, he’s willing to do it. If Lan Wangji said something, hurt Wei Wuxian— “Relax, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, laughs. “You don’t need to go beat up Lan Zhan for me. I’m not some fragile maiden.” Shooting him an annoyed look, Jiang Cheng forces his shoulders and hands to loosen. Wei Wuxian shakes his head before tilting it up toward the sky briefly, drawing in a breath of clean air. “So?” Jiang Cheng prods, elbowing Wei Wuxian in the arm. He scowls at him, rubbing at the spot as if it actually hurt, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “He’s just so — ugh, you know how the Lan are,” Wei Wuxian says. “All he wants to do is drag me back to Gusu to face punishment for my deviant methods. You heard him, all that ‘return to the righteous path’ and ‘I have to exorcise the evil out of you.’ I’m just tired of getting lectured all the time.” It still doesn’t feel quite right, like the explanation’s too shallow. Still, Wei Wuxian had hated all the rules in Cloud Recesses and Lan Wangji had been unusually terse about the cultivation path he walked. “Maybe he’ll relax if you explain it,” Jiang Cheng suggests, trying to sound genuine and not like he wants to shove the two of them in a small room and make them figure themselves out. “Like you’ve talked to me about it. He can’t bother you about returning to sword cultivation if he knows you…you know.” Wei Wuxian breathes out something that’s not quite a laugh, too bitter. There’s a twist to his lips that Jiang Cheng never saw until the war, something dark and ugly under his brother’s amusement. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Maybe.”

[nedxwynert]

Unique | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Hope was very little when you saw that your boyfriend was cheating on you, thinking that there's nothing to live for until you meet a nice man who caught your eye.

Warnings: mentions of a breakup, heartbreak, few swear words, cheesy (I know, I'm sorry)

Word Count: 2,074 (whoops)

Masterlist

(Gif not mine)

-

Your thumbs type over the keyboard of your phone, hearing the clicks it makes whenever a letter was typed as you made your way through the downtown market of Bucharest, passing by people as they weren't in the best clothing, but it was all they had. You felt bad for them, and it always breaks your heart when you saw a child starving and did what you could to give them some cash or the rest of your food that you bought. But today, you just wanted to go pick some food and scurry back to your little destitute apartment. Today was also the day your boyfriend--. Well. Ex boyfriend, had texted you back after a while since you had caught him cheating with some girl who worked at the coffee shop you two went to.

Of course he would. Who would want someone like you? You sit in your room dreaming, drawing, grabbing novels to read almost 24/7 when most people just want to either get in your pants, steal money, or wanted to go out to parties and rub against guys and get drunk off your ass. You only just wanted to smell and paint the roses. You were done with those days of waking up with a hangover and getting in trouble with the law.

But 5 months ago when you walked in on him, smothering his lips all over that girl in the back of that cafe. That was the last you saw him, and that whole month you've spent crying a river over him, it felt like a never ending heartbreak. And the one thing that was hard for you, was to not think of him and just try to man up to it. You'd knew that would happen to you one day, but it hurts to admit it that you would ever think of such a thing.

You did your best of trying to be friends with new people to get the thought of him off your mind, but they turned you away. You tried to drink the thoughts away, but you couldn't try and lacked the money for alcohol. You read books that you got from the library, but they somehow made you think more of him. Weeks you spent on doing every little thing possible to push that bastard you loved out of your mind. And now he's texting you, telling you that he messed up when all you wanted to do is forget about his existence and try to live a normal life without falling in love. Cause all you knew was that someone is just gonna come along and ruin your life even more.

Once another text came in, you felt the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, fumbling with the phone and shook your head while you stuffed it in your coat pocket, searching the fruit stands nearby to clear your mind. You haven't slept in days. Well, not good as you only got a few hours of sleep each night, dark circles around your eyes, nose red from rubbing it with tissues when you were crying and your cloths a slight mess from the lack of energy to go to the laundromat to wash them.

You looked like hell. Felt like hell especially.

Your (eye colour) orbs scanned the fruits that laid out in crates, scanning the prices as your teeth bit at your lower lip. Damn it. How much money did you bring?

"Would you like to purchase some fruit, miss? We got some good tasting local fruit that is picked just for you." The man who ran the stand looked over to you, seeing that he wore a white apron that was a bit dirtied up from dirt, fruit juices, and perhaps age from the looks on the edges of the fabric as it was worn out from how much it was used. You could tell he was trying to get you to buy some from how nice he was trying to be.

A fake smile curled to your lips as you saw the plums that were in front of you, knowing that the money in your purse wouldn't be able to purchase as much as you want. Small plums might waste your money when there might be something else more filling elsewhere. Fuck. Why did prices have to go up?

"No, sir. I don't think th-" A body came up next to you and cut you off from your words. It was a male. Rather tall and wore a dark red shirt, a cap on his head, and a brown coat over him that looked old from its looks.

"A few for the lady and I," the male spoke as he handed over a few plums to the man to bag while he shoved his gloved hand in his coat pocket to get his money to pay while you stood there next to him, looking at him from the side. His hair was jaw length, brown, and he had a slight beard. Then you saw his eyes. Blue as the skies like the pictures you saw of California in your books.

The moment was awkward while he paid for you when you would hear him thank to the man before handing the white bag to you, a soft smile forming his lips as those sky blue eyes looked down at you. God, he was tall.

"I saw that you looked hungry. Here." Hands took the bag as you couldn't part your eyes from the man that just bought you your dinner for tonight.

"Th-thank you. You didn't have to-"

"No no," he gave out a breathy short chuckle. "Don't thank me. I uh..I just wanted to be nice." Thank goodness. Someone who actually can show some niceness in this city. "Besides, I hope you don't mind sharing." And there was that smile again. It made your cheeks light up.

"No. Um." You couldn't help but look down and giggle softly before fixing your hair to be tucked behind one ear then looks back up to the man. "I really don't mind. Not at all."

"Maybe we could sit down for a bit? You look almost to the brink of passing out." Of course you did. If it wasn't for your fucked up relationship with your asshole of a ex boyfriend, you wouldn't be in this hell. A simple nod from you made him motion you to walk with him as he started to head to where there was a bench available to sit on to eat. Damn it. You swore everyone could hear your dying stomach growl from how hungry you wanted to have what this wonderful man bought you.

You two walked for a while till you found a spot that was quiet and sat down, your muscles relaxing as you didn't know you were so tensed up till you sat down. The skies were clouded over and it made the place even more gloomy, added with the poor people who walked around and begging for food or money. That's when your attention drew to the man who was now sinking his teeth in a juicy plum, his eyes looking ahead of him.

"May I ask. Who are you?" He didn't look at you as he had to pause for a while. Did he even hear you? Or could he be possibly making up a name in his head?

"My name is Bucky." The tone of his voice became deeper while he rested his elbows on his legs, his eyes keeping off you as you kept yours on him. He was so mysterious, you just wanted to know so much about of him.

"Where are you from, Bucky?" That's when you got his attention as he would look down to the floor before moving his head to you, some strands of his hair falling over his face. It looked as if he was asked a difficult math equation in math class.

"Would it uh." He chuckles nervously. "Sound crazy if I said that I don't know, really?" The fuck? How could no one know where they're from? Was he born on the side of a road and just never knew where he was and just walked around till today?

"You don't know where you're from?" You spoke in a bit of shock.

"No. It's uh. How do I put it? Like I can't remember most of my life." His face became more relaxed and his lips formed in a straight line, seeing pain in his eyes as it kinda made you feel bad for the man.

"I'm sorry to hear that. That's sad. Do you even know your parents' names?" Slumping back on the bench, you became even more curious for this man who couldn't remember most of his life.

"No...I don't." Once he took another bite of his plum, it became silent between you two, hearing the birds and the sounds of a city normally makes, but then he looks over at you , a soft look in his eyes that was surely making you melt right there on the bench. "What about you? What's your name?"

"It's (name). Dumb name, I know. Parents named me after one of their ancestors." Precious blue eyes looked at you and smiled when he finally knew what to call you now. This time, he showed some of his perfect teeth which surprised you a bit by how nice they looked for a man who said he doesn't remember most of his life.

"It's beautiful, for a woman like yourself." Beautiful? You? Oh hell no. Now you know he's just trying to flatter you.

"Euh, I disagree with you on that. I'm a complete mess." Your hands pointed to your clothes and the lack of makeup, tangled hair, and the dark circles under your eyes. But it seemed like he didn't care at all to it. Must be used to it from other woman here. "After my stupid boyfriend, I've been even more of a mess than before." God, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Your eyes began to water and you tried to turn your face away from how hurt you looked again at the thought of your horrible heartbreak, but you felt a cool touch like metal on your chin and turned your face to Bucky as his hand had wiped away the tears you didn't realize that had rolled down your cheeks. You just met the man and now you're starting to break down in front of him. Wow. So perfect of you. What else would you do? Start telling him your terrible life you're living? Yeah, cause that'll totally make him want to spend time with you.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to start crying in front of you." Those blue eyes looked at your now red ones as his hand didn't leave your cheek as he was warm and tried your best to not lean too much into his hand as it felt good to be touched in a nice way instead of wanting to get in your pants or slapped at.

You two giggled for a little bit as you looked at each other for a bit as it felt actually nice to be in Bucky's company. He looked like as if he knew exactly how you felt and calmed you down instantly without saying a single word. It became awkward after a few minutes of staring at each other and you saw that he had managed to finish his plum, which you haven't even touched your three others that were in the white plastic bag. "Do you actually like plums or did you just buy them for just me?" You said to break the silence.

"No. I really like them, actually. They're my most favourite and they're like candy to me." There's that smile you adored and you thought of something funny, making you giggle a bit as it made him tilt his head out of curiosity of what could make you giggle since he didn't say anything. Maybe it was what he said? He didn't know.

"You want to hear a secret?" A simple nod came from him as you smiled...a smile you haven't made in a long time, not realizing that you were doing that as the man made you so comfortable that everything you knew of pain vanished from your thoughts.

"I love them too."

Thank you for reading! Did you enjoy? If so, please consider to heart and reblog. Many writers today don’t get much credit for the hard work they put into their writing. And with that, have a wonderful day! :)

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, MALIN! You’ve been accepted for the role of DEATH with the faclaim of ZOE KRAVITZ. Death’s hunger is one of my favorite aspects about their character -- but it can be easily overstated or understated in contrast to their humanity. You struck the perfect chord, and the song you wrote for me with Death was so well-written it made me weep. Zoya has the real potential to be a power-player, as you’ve shown, but her history and humanity gets in the way, and there’s so something undeniably poetic about it. The lore you sketched out for me at the start merely set the stage for a wonderful application that I enjoyed to no end (fantasy Lasik!). I’m fully prepared to serve Zoya a seven-course meal.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

ooc.

NAME: Malin PRONOUNS: she/hers & they/them AGE: 25 TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT+1. Currently, I’m at about a 6-7 out of 10, I would say? I’m hoping for my own sake that I somehow nab a new job during summer sometime, which might push that activity down some – but I will still be here! ANYTHING ELSE? 1. i invented some in-game folklore. as a little treat. 2. listen, I gave a bitch haunted Lasik. 3. i did some MORE fuckshit regarding her body regenerating freakishly quick for a while after her resurrection (it has since gone away.) ALL OF THESE ARE DEFINITELY NEGOTIABLE if you feel it’s too much! but if you DON’T feel it’s Too Much though and you like it? ……………… let me do some fuckshit. 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

in character.

SKELETON: Death

NAME: Zoya Nathair, daughter of Duke Nathair, the Duke of Serpents – thus giving her the title of lady while at court. The hefty mouthful you’ll find on legal documents has her down as Zoya Casimira Lucem Zilvinas Nathair. Informal names given through the years include the moniker Prince of Snakes, as given to her by the people of Lowtown – an insult turned pet name with time, if you will – and the Gaunter of Hightown, a ghost story she accidentally caused in her youth.

FACECLAIM: Zoë Kravitz, Jessica Parker Kennedy, Crystal Reed, Keira Knightley, Jodie Comer  (would want to change the age depending on the backup FC!)

AGE: 31-32

DETAILS: Zoya is a collection of contradictions: she died once, yet she lives; she’s Hightown-born and yet has her hands in Lowtown dealings – and the face she puts on and whom most know is a mask.

Calculating, impulsive; ruthless, caring; selfish, loyal. She crafted a lie she could live, and now she’s caught in it – and yet she finds herself both relishing and resisting that lie. Her outspoken nature among the upper echelon began as a game, Zoya courting consequence for her own amusement – but the longer it’s gone on for, the truer it rings. But Koldam has been razed, and if there ever was a time to kill a king, it’s now.

At the start of the game, she is a woman considering all the choices that have led her to where she is, and she will need to reconcile the gnawing hunger within herself – the parts of her she sees as self-serving and ignoble – with the parts that recognize the injustice being done, the same parts she’s spent years drowning out.

CHARACTER DEATH: Yes, I’m comfortable with it! As a woman who has already died once, she knows it’s coming – just not how, or when. Considering she’s also out here being vocal about TREASON, it’s uhhhh [will wright voice] pretty likely, innit. I think her dying could be interesting, though I’d like it to have the right weight, storywise, and to have a hand in it myself, should it come down to it!

CONTENT WARNING – brief mentions of self-harm in the section “skins shed; lives lost, lives given”!

biography.

THE WOLF WHO BECAME DUKE OF SERPENTS.

A wolf saves an adder from the claws of a hawk; its snarling, hungry teeth scaring away the kestrel. With the hawk gone, the wolf advances on the adder, slobbering spit from its maw. “Do not eat me,” hisses the adder, “for I am little more to you than a morsel. Let me instead return the debt I owe you.”

Intrigued, the wolf agrees – for the snake is right; its sullen, sorry skin will hardly feed the wolf. And perhaps wolves are hungry creatures, and perhaps hunger is an ancient feeling – but there are more things in this world to be hungry for than meat, and wolves themselves are ancient.

And so it is that the two of them venture into the gleaming halls of the Serpent Queen, far below the earth. Her den of snakes have hollowed out the primordial passages, which coil and twist through stone and bedrock. Rivers of emerald and sapphire greet them as they enter her labyrinth; the air is suffused with the rich scent of loam and ferns that grow in the dark. It is there, in a cavern bled through with silver, that the Serpent Queen sits upon her throne, her glittering scales carved from obsidian and lapis lazuli, quartz and tiger's eye.

The hiss of her court is silenced as she speaks, her voice the whisper of wind through grass.  “What do you wish for?” she asks the wolf, and the wolf answers that he would like the comfort of a rich man’s life. “No more would I need to starve through winter,” he says. “No more would I need to roam the woods for meagre prey.”

“So it shall be,” the Serpent Queen says, and so it is. She grants him a name, for he has none; a title, for he does not have that either; enough wealth that he may buy land wherever he pleases. Finally, she grants him his new form: she teaches him the secret of snakes, how to shed his fur for skin – but once it is done, you may never go back.

And so it is that the wolves of House Nathair never again ran on all fours through the Volkan woods; rising instead on two to walk among men. That first wolf was named Zilvinas, and so they would all take the name in his honor. Their head of house is forever known as the Duke of Serpents, for it is to that scaled queen below the earth they owe their riches and land.

† † †

It’s a strange story, even among the varied gentry of Tyrholm; an odd fairytale from a long-gone era. As a child, she spent much time contemplating the skin and the claws and the fangs that were shed. Now, in her cups, she does much the same. Sober, she pretends she doesn’t. The crest of her family – a wolf’s head circled by a snake eating its own tail – is more entrenched in her mind than she wants to admit. But let her brothers be the wolves: she has shed her skin more than once, and she will do it again, and again, and again.

THE GAUNTER OF HIGHTOWN.

In Hightown, there is a certain manor. Its stonework is decked in reliefs of beasts ready to spring to life: wolves chase stags through marble woodlands, beautiful serpents hide in the leaves. Amidst well-lit streets and manicured gardens, it is easy to forget the ghosts that haunt Tyrholm – but as the saying goes, not all corpses sink in the Tear. No apparitions are ever gone for long. As servants from neighboring homes passed through the ginnels and alleyways near it, they would often feel as though they were being watched… and at odd hours of the day, they would look up and see a gaunt face staring back at them from the manor tower, before fading into darkness once more.

At dawn, one might catch her from the east, staring from between the hallway curtains, and some even said they saw her gazing down at them from the parapets after midnight – her bony hands curved across the stone, pin-prick eyes boring holes into them. The Gaunter, they called it, the strange creature that watched and waited.

They say if you aren't careful, the Gaunter will catch you - wrap its spider-fingers around your neck, and squeeze until you're as gaunt as it is. They say it caught a chambermaid, once, after dark. They found her by the bridge leading to the Isle of the Dead, her brown hair gone grey overnight, her cheeks hollowed out.

† † †

From birth, Zoya was an ill child – prone to spells of sickness that would leave her bedridden and housebound for weeks, even months, at a time. Tonics and ointments and even the occasional visit from a Vitalus got her back on her feet, for a while – but nothing ever healed her; not truly. From the windows, she would observe the world passing her by, and the sight of her sickly face peering out gave rise to a considerable number of ghost stories among gentry and servants alike.

Tenth-born and the only daughter; half-dead from her first breath – easily forgotten, among her pack of older brothers, too young and frail and fragile to be heard in all the noise. Another girl might have been cowed by her circumstances – but that girl was not Zoya. Forget the blood in her mouth and the way her limbs threatened to give out when she pushed herself too hard, too fast, too much – she was stubborn; clung to life like she had since birth.

She was tutored in much the same way as her brothers before her, but where they were strong enough in body to wield a sword, and healthy enough to leave the manor,  Zoya was decidedly not. It meant she was left to her own devices, and she divided those hours between books and the staff of servants, making friends with the scullery maids and stable hands. They told her stories and tall tales and gossip, explained the intricacies of Lowtown to her, taught her card games, how to spot a cheater and how to hide your nature as one – and if they ever pitied her, they had the good sense not to show it. (For that, she was forever grateful.)

When her health confined her to her room, she would read – voraciously so, head lost in tales of Faerûn’s fall and the glory of Hypatos, stories from beyond the Sahrnian Sea describing horror and wonder alike. And when she could, she would sneak out from her chambers to roam the hallways like a spectre. Under cover of darkness, she would make her way out and up, peering down at the Hightown streets; wondering what it might look like, should she ever get there.

The world continued passing her by, and though she grew older, she never got well. The year she turned fifteen, her health sharply declined for the worse. As spring began, Zoya was sent to the Nathair estate in the countryside to live out her last months – no doubt both because it would be a finer place to die, but also because she’s certain her parents wouldn’t want the stench of death to taint their Hightown manor.

As spring became summer, her family joined her for her living wake; Zoya’s body still warm, but not for long. Soon after, a flash flood rendered the nearby roads unusable, and the threat of summer storms meant travelers had to be wary. It wasn’t a surprise, then, that someone came knocking, invoking the law of hospitality – but their two missing fingers certainly were. A necromancer had come calling, and her father let them in.

† † †

Perhaps it was pity, or guilt, that made her parents leave her to her roaming. She’s certain that had they known where she went, they would have stopped her – but they didn’t.

She spent the fragile remainder of that summer in the furthest corner of the rose garden, and her company was largely silent, yet magnetically present. The necromancer would rarely speak, unless it was pressing, but they never chased her away. For hours, the two of them would sit there, one near death and the other beyond it, the roses slowly wilting. The sweet scent of rot permeated the air, fragrant and earthen, and it remains a strange, hazy memory on the periphery of her consciousness, even now.

Slowly – and then quick as a slap – she began to wilt, too.

The night she died is a haze, but she thinks she remembers the necromancer’s strange, quiet voice as they spoke to her father: “You have shown me kindness. Let me offer you mine.” She remembers the last breath she drew. She does not remember the face of her resurrector, but she swears she feels the touch of their hands, on occasion, phantom traces of memory.

It was as if she had been woken from the longest slumber. Her saviour was gone, like a ghost fleeing the dawn; had left right before sunrise. Already, she felt it – life. She had been a desert, and now she was a river: not until she could feel strength in her limbs for the first time did she understand just how parched she’d been.

She hobbled to the garden, and found a wasteland in its stead. The rosarium was rotting, that scent rising from the ruin left behind. And then, of course, there was the matter of her right eye.

Before, they had both been the shade of burnt umber, a lovely rich brown – but after she rose, her right eye was yellow as amber; her pupil no longer round, but a serpentine slit. It distressed her parents greatly: undeath is holy, but the flesh is weak. Her strange eye seemed fit as proof of some inner flaw, no matter the blessing bestowed. A sacrilege of a holy gift. It did not help matters that she began to see things, out of the corner of her eye – shadows and silhouettes, strange motes of light. Sometimes, she even swore she heard them whisper. Necromancy may be holy, but not all magic is, and whatever had been left behind in her – or woken up – was decidedly not holy. The eye drops were a compromise: her father wanted to have a Vitalus heal her eye, in the hopes that it might banish whatever ill fortune had befallen her, and Zoya staunchly refused. It was her mark, her scar, she would do with it as she pleased. But she could not deny that the strange visions bothered her, and in time, took to covering it with cloth. It made her realize that simply removing the sight from her right eye seemed to stem the problem – and so she agreed to her father’s solution. He commissioned eye drops brewed from belladonna and other strange components, and she has kept a vial of it on her at all times ever since.

† † †

SKINS SHED; LIVES LOST, LIVES GIVEN.

It was as if whatever force had eluded her in her first life had begun pouring out of her in her second. She took to fencing, took to the city, took to anything and everything she could get her hands on: I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It echoed in her, a fervor unlike anything else she’d ever felt. She could tell it almost frightened her family: it must have been uncanny, she knows, to see her spend fifteen years half-dead, only to lie there a corpse and then be brought back. To see her right eye become something else, something not-her, to see her be so viciously alive after what had transpired.

And so, when she scratched herself on the thorns of a bramble in their Hightown garden, and found the scar knitting itself together, she kept it from them.

For weeks, she tested the limits of her resurrection – with thorns and knives, even a red-hot poker. If they were simple cuts, they would heal within the day. But if she exceeded her body’s strange, nebulous limit, they would often be bloodless – like a desiccated body, despite the glow in her cheeks and the fact that she was conscious. That fervor – that hunger – began to scare Zoya, too. But she had always been stubborn, and she would be damned if she let go then, after years of clinging to a half-life. So, like always, she pushed forward. If she hungered, she would have it – she needn’t think about that nagging thought in the back of her head, so long as she kept going.

( Am I alive, or am I a corpse? She would slip her hands into leather gloves, and tell no one why; would steal her mother’s perfume and fasten flowers to her lapel in the hopes that it might cover up the rot she was so certain she could smell. )

These days, all scars stay, whatever errant magical remnants the necromancer left in her long-gone. She wears the first scar that stuck with pride – a nasty gash in her left thigh, an anchor to remind her that she’s a living, breathing person. ( But sometimes, it’s hard to remember. )

SKINS SHED; LIVES LOST, LIVES TAKEN.

At 25, Zoya won the Rosewood Maiden in a game of cards, and the previous owner has sorely regretted it since. Already, she had been entrenched in certain Lowtown dealings, but it was the Maiden that would truly cinch her presence there. It became her way in, after a handful of years spent on the periphery, slowly working her way in. It would be easy, to say she wanted power – but the truth of it is that in her mind, power goes hand in hand with freedom. (Funny, then, that she has tied herself so strongly to a place, despite her childhood dreams of seeing what lay beyond her windowsill. –– But she did spend those fifteen years dreaming of simply seeing Tyrholm, and while she’s still curious about the rest of the world, Tyrholm is hers.)

Her “purchase” of the brothel marked a turning point: no longer was she an outsider, peering at the commonfolk from her ivory tower – no, she was one of them, now, with real stakes in Lowtown dealings. It made it easier for them to accept her, and her nickname, once spoken as an insult, became something else. She was theirs, now, and she enjoyed the idea of it – belonging. A pack of her own.

She snuck her metaphorical hand into the metaphorical pockets of the upper echelon, and used that gold to fund an expansion of her business – and in time, someone wrote a little ditty, one she hums if only to unnerve when the occasion calls for it:

Duke of Serpents; Prince of Snakes, king of liars, thieves and rakes– ruby, diamond, pearl and stone: rob you blind of blood and bone.

The nobles can say whatever they like. She’ll take what she wants in due time.

miscellaneous.

The Rosewood Maiden Architecture and design Rather than two, I headcanon that the Rosewood Maiden has three official floors and one hidden one - the top floor, which hosts Zoya's office as well as some sundry guest rooms for hire and storage space; the entry level, which hosts the tavern proper; the brothel quarter below; and underneath the brothel, a cavernous passage into an old smuggler's route.

The tavern and brothel are lavishly decorated with carved serpents and roses - and the occasional wolf and unicorn stag.

Faith She keeps a shrine to the Undying, as well as a scattering of more "heathen" ones - the Serpent Queen among them, and I imagine what deities would pass for good luck, fortune, and thieves in this world.

Sight & eyedrops After she was raised from the dead, her right eye became serpentine: a physical mark of her resurrection. She keeps two small bottles of an alchemical solution at all times: one to cloud the eye over, leaving only the faintest trace of yellow right at the edge of her iris, and another to undo the first. I think she gets these from Wyrmwood's, primarily, but I think seeing her approach the Moon for it could be neat! something akin to the historical drops of belladonna used to enlargen pupils, but [tyra banks vc] make it fantasy.

In addition to the uncanny appearance of her eye, there is also the issue of what she sees with it. When left "untreated", whether by eye drops or eye patch, Zoya sees shadowy figures and strange lights - traces of something else, beyond mortal ken. I headcanon that it's maybe a mix of the sheer cost of resurrecting her for the necromancer – an especially noticeable chunk of magic was infused/intertwined with Zoya – and maybe there's a touch of something latent within her? Who Can Say. I enjoy leaving it ambiguous!

Underdogs She has a soft spot for underdogs and unlikely victors - she tells herself it's mostly narcissistic, as it's a simple fact that they mirror her – but truth is there's empathy involved, though she often elects to ignore it. (It’s easier, that way.)

Delusion As a result of her resurrection, and the curious circumstances surrounding it, Zoya has struggled with the occasional delusion / compulsive thought that she is dead – a walking, talking corpse. It's gotten better over the years, but she will wear gloves for comfort when it's at its worst, and is always wearing perfume - a light touch on good days, and a heavier layer on bad ones.

She has a love/hate relationship with the scent of rot: it can set her off, especially meat that's gone bad.

Scent & flowers Both as a result of her delusion, and simply because she likes it, Zoya has an extensive collection of perfume oils to wear - florals, amber, spice; scents that tickle and intrigue.

In addition, she always keeps a large amount of flower arrangements wherever she is staying, whether it's in the Rosewood Maiden, or her home. Again, it serves many purposes - she likes flowers; she feels the scent masks her own when she struggles with thinking that she's dead; she associates them with the necromancer that brought her back, and she feels it keeps other necromancers "at bay" – the flowers will wilt before she does, essentially. They serve as a measuring tool, in that sense, as well as passive lifeforce for the eventual necromancer.

Magpie She has certain magpie tendencies – she enjoys the spoils of wealth, the security of it, to be sure, but she has an eye for the strange. A favorite are supposedly enchanted or cursed objects – she still remembers the stories she read as a child, and she feels a certain kinship to them, in an odd way. (She, too, is a cursed thing.)

extras.

† character tag † playlist † pinterest

plot ideas.

connections.

THE CHARIOT Her relationship with the Chariot is two-fold: on one hand, she very much enjoys the little deal they’ve struck, though she’s well-aware she may need a contingency plan should they try to back out. On the other, she roots for underdogs, much as it pains her.

There is a part of her that sees herself mirrored in them – and perhaps the Chariot is nobler, or at least better at acting the part of someone with morals, but they are both of them still tied to that nebulous nothing, and she wonders what they would do if put on the throne.

I would like to see a certain tension, maybe a twisted understanding, between the two of them! She enjoys the idea of what she could do if only they #let her in, and I think she could provide an interesting counter to their more tragi-heroic energy.

THE LOVERS While Zoya spends a lot (a lot) of time adding to her tapestry of reputation at court, she can be both charming and kind in turns – when she wants to be. I think the Lovers maybe remind her of her childhood friendships, in a strange sense. I think she’s curious about their standing and relationship to the World, but there remains a simplicity to the kindness she displays around them, regardless – she isn’t only using them, but the cogs still turn in her head. I think this relationship could be a good fostering for a side of Zoya that few get to see, which excites me! I also very much enjoy the potential of the Lovers talking to her about their thoughts re: the king.

THE MOON Again, she enjoys the relative power she has over them – and I think a more cruel part of her maybe enjoys toying with them. They owe her a debt, and she won’t let them forget it: they have a little foothold in the castle, now, and one day, she might have use for it.

I think the intersection between Zoya, Armel and the Moon could be really fun, that’s it that’s the pitch. JK. I also have some #thoughts on her maybe commissioning them for eye drops, which could provide an interesting back-and-forth between Zoya and the Moon, especially if they feel that it levels the playing field some.

STRENGTH Strength is absolutely someone she enjoys toying with – and they make it so easy that it almost isn’t fun. (But only almost.)

I would like to expand upon their possible past dealings, concerning Strength’s mercenary company, and also I’m a sucker for the bear & wolf imagery, NGL.

THE TOWER She wonders deeply what exactly hides beneath the Tower’s exterior. The part of her that simply likes stoking chaos to see how far she can push it finds itself circling the Tower – as does the part of her that might in fact like to see justice done to the king.

I headcanon that depending on the timeline, she may not have been present for the Tower’s Incident at Court, but I think she’s definitely heard about it – most likely from one of her brothers. It’s fascinating to her – morbidly so – that the Tower now works for the king, despite what they’ve been through. Yet again, she wants to prod, as is her nature.

suggested connections.

THE STAR He is talented, and she appreciates as much - and he is utterly wasted on the court, who no more respect him than they appreciate him. WE LOVE A BARD JULIE. WE LOVE HIM. dark mirror to Armel re: stories!

wanted connections.

NECROMANCER the necromancer who brought her back Yolo

FENCING TUTOR idfk seems sensible

COMPATRIOTS Her little host of underbelly compatriots! Criminals who help her with her dealings, people loyal to her.

future plots.

CRIMINAL EXPANSION.

I have some headcanons about the Rosewood Maiden, and I also have some suggestions for future ventures for the good ol' Prince of Snakes - namely, fighting pits, betting rings, and potentially an underground tributary river and an old smugglers' cove right beneath the Rosewood Maiden.

– i just want criminal shit and could also see this working in the favour of the rebellion – smugglers route used to ferry supplies and people in and out of Tyrholm? hell yeah baby

– masquerade balls and Events. zoya got CASH she’s gonna host PARTIES and talk about KILLING THE KING (maybe)

– the initial focus is DEFFO on the rebellion but like listen i………. am simply a sucker for fantasy crime.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

Internal-- I think that Zoya's internal arc will largely be a battle of her dual drives: her greed/gluttony versus the parts of her that see injustice being done. It's a moral conflict that I think has seeped into every aspect of her life – the things she has done and the lengths she is willing to go to, versus the part of her that knows it's morally reprehensible and even fucked up. Duality & paradox is an abstract concept that I return to for Zoya – she is both calculating and impulsive, which means she has the potential to do stupid shit despite knowing how stupid it is.

I think I'd like to push her in a direction of having to fight with her impulse to use people while caring for them – because the two cannot coexist for long, IMO! And I think that that particular internal conflict can get Juicy

writing sample.

IN WINTER, DEAD THINGS FREEZE. She wrapped her coat tight around herself, the fur-lined collar warm against her neck. Fresh snow lined the cobblestone streets of Hightown like a fine dusting of powdered sugar, little candied houses on parade with cream-tiled roofs. Bells tolled the hour in the distance, their chorus echoing across Tyrholm, midnight, midnight, midnight–

Midnight was a witching hour, or so the stories said. What was strange became stranger, and in dark woods, a traveler might strike a bargain with a hag. But there were few hags to be found, in Tyrholm proper, at least of the magical variety. (None that wished to be found, at least. She'd looked.)

The air smelled pleasant: it was the scent of cold, brilliant and ruthless; strangely sweet.

Her hands clenched into fists, leather gloves creaking.

She breathed in – rough, eyes fixed on the nearest torch. She could picture it in her mind’s eye – the rosarium, rotting; sweet and acrid all at once. Her boot dug down into the fresh layer of snow, crunching it beneath her heel. In winter, rot and death all froze, just like the Tear. Alive, alive, alive.

She curled her mouth into a smile.

IN SPRING, DEAD THINGS THAW. Ilarion Nathair was, unlike his sister, not a frivolous creature. Once, he came close – though his close-cropped head of black curls and the noble set of his shoulders might certainly convince passersby that he had never so much as stumbled upon a mischievous thought in his entire life, let alone acted on it.

But Zoya knew better. Zoya knew him.

"Ilya," she said, and as though they were weights levied by the same pulley, his brows swept into a frown as she grinned, wide and incorrigible.