#or at least let those of us enjoying it do so without feeling like lesser fans

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 6

If You Told Me To

Azriel Eris x Reader

Eris has a little chat with Azriel. As Y/N braces herself to face her mate for the first time since leaving him - she calls in reinforcements. Eris calls in one of his own.

A/n: This is the second to last chapter of the series. Chapter 7 will be the final chapter followed by an epilogue. I have been excited to share this chapter as, lyrically, the song it’s titled after is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Language

The Shadowsinger sat chained in a cell beneath the Autumn Keep. Comfortably lit, temperature regulated, nothing egregious. There was a dark, selfish part of Eris that would not have minded a bit of suffering to befall the male, a little seemed fair given the hell he’d put Y/N through. But Eris couldn’t do that to her. Certainly there was a small part of the mating instinct that would have left her in pain to see her mate - a title he didn’t deserve - hurting.

Eris begrudgingly placed a glamour over her scent that clung to his skin like fine perfume, such a waste to cover it with his own autumnal blend. It was not his place to explain or unveil anything regarding the relationship between them, Eris would have to tread carefully in his questioning.

He almost, almost said “fuck the glamour” and let that intoxicating-as-hell summer storm scent of hers fill the air and marched straight to the dungeons in his sweats and a linen tee, let him see exactly what Eris had been up to all morning. The look on the Shadowsinger’s face would have been so damned satisfying.

Alas, he chose to play the part of pompous High Lord, dressing in the most lordly of attire.

“Well, well, well, what brings you to my humble abode, Shadowsinger? You could have just knocked.”

Azriel snarled through his gag, nose flaring. To put it lightly, he looked rough. His once golden skin paled, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes, and multiple large purple bruises littered his skin.

“Ah, right.” Eris cleared his throat, giving the tattered male before him a disapproving stare. With a quick flick of his wrist the gag disappeared.

“Just let me fucking talk to her.” Azriel growled, his shadows darkening the cell.

Eris inspected his cuticles, refusing to drop the air of irreverence he’d intentionally given off. “Who would you like to speak with, Shadowsinger?”

“You fucking know.” He growled, rage limning each word.

“Say her name.” Eris replied cooly. Needing to make a point to himself.

“Y/N.”

And in that moment Eris realized just how far gone he was in his desire for Y/N. It was dangerous, the fiery rage that burned through his chest at the sacrilege of her sacred name falling from his desecrated lips.

Though Eris refrained from any external display of that inferno blazing inside of him, the slight tick in his jaw must have given him away to the awaiting Spymaster.

Azriel pulled and jerked with all of his might against the chains and Eris was well aware of his power, the entire Autumn Court was. Eris had backup measures in place that - even with his contempt toward the male - he did not wish to use.

“Stop pulling on the chains, Azriel.” Eris commanded.

The use of his given name instead of Eris’ typical “Shadowsinger” caught Azriel’s attention and the look alone on the his face could have killed a lesser male as Azriel’s furious gaze met Eris’

“If you fucking hurt her, I will rip you apart limb by limb. I will make it slow-“

Eris cut him off. “Was it those theatrics that won her heart, Shadowsinger? Truly, you bore me.” Eris returned to examining his nails.

“Fuck you.” Azriel growled.

Eris would ask Y/N’s forgiveness later for what he was about to say. At least he’d made an honest effort to keep his feelings for her separate from the situation at hand.

Without missing a beat, the High Lord goaded, “Funny you should say that. Was it not your fucking around that put you in this position in the first place?”

Azriel lost it. Eris couldn’t recall a time in his centuries of living that he’d seen such display of rage. He yanked at the chains with all of his might, his centuries of strength training apparent as the sounds of the rage and the grinding of stone on metal filled the cell. His efforts nearly successful in ripping free from the wall.

“I’ve asked you once to quit pulling, Shadowsinger. You are in here with just cause and will answer as such. You can behave like a civil being or continue the brute act and I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.” With that, fire sparked and was contained within his palm.

Azriel banked slightly at the display and for a moment Eris felt a twinge of remorse as his eyes landed on those scarred hands.

“Spare me your pity, High Lord.” Azriel spat the title with venom.

Eris shook his head, pacing alongside the cell. “Oh but I do pity you, Shadowsinger. Not in the way I hold back my fire given your past circumstances, that is basic decency on my part.”

With a mock bow, he continued,

“What I pity is how you wage such concern over Y/N’s well-being within my palace walls while blatantly disregarding the fact that you are the one who broke her with your own two hands. And now that she has built herself back up shard by fractured shard into something far stronger, even more rare than the shining gem she already was, you appear like a thief in the night. What is your plan, Azriel? Are you here to break her again?

Eris stepped closer to the cell. Flame igniting those amber eyes as he crouched down face to face with the bound Shadowsinger, grounding out in a low, predatory tone. “Because you won’t this time. Diamonds don’t crush under pressure.”

And with that, Eris stood back up, placed his hands in his pockets, that casual irreverence once again masking his features. “And I find diamonds to be quite precious, so I’ll be sure to cherish mine with the tender, loving care that she deserves.”

Azriel seethed, shadows raging violently within the cell. And Eris wasn’t certain but he could have sworn that anger was directed at their master himself.

Eris waited for more violence, for the filth that would spill from his mouth but the Shadowsinger only hung his head low, and to Eris’ surprise, large, salty tears began falling from his face.

Eris said nothing as Azriel sobbed. Why kick the male when he’d already downed himself? So Eris stood and waited. Eventually Azriel looked up again, “Please, just let me talk to her.”

Eris paused, taking stock of the broken male before him.

Just when it appeared to Azriel that he’d deny him, Eris replied. “You are fortunate that your mate is far more benevolent than I, she has agreed to speak with you.”

Azriel let out a large, broken sigh of relief.

Eris only smirked. “But she has conditions.”

—————————

I don’t want to look back on these days, knowing all the things you’d never know if I never said a word and let you go.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” Eris spoke softly.

“I do, Eris. What he did, it’s too much. Too far. If you weren’t the ruler that you are, this might have been treated as an act of war.”

Eris shook his head. “You’re right. What he did is not acceptable by any means. But you, you shouldn’t have to deal with this after all you’ve been through.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” She spoke firmly.

He pulled her in closely, resting his chin on her head, those warm arms wrapped tightly around her easing the bitter cold threatening to frost her heart. “He never deserved you.”

Eris knew a mask when he saw one. Knew them far too well. Beneath the strong exterior she was presenting, his brave girl was nervous as hell.

I don't want to steal you away or make you change the things that you believe.

Eris escorted Y/N to a large meeting space by a roaring fire, sitting her at the head of the table, he to her right. One with a lesser sense of hearing might have missed the increase of her heart rate. That mask beginning to slip.

“Look at me, minx.”

Her glassy eyes met his as he reached forward, his hands enveloping hers. “You owe nothing to anyone. Nobody. Not to the Night Court, to my Court, or even to the Summer Court beyond what Tarquin has contracted you to do, and you especially owe nothing to the Shadowsinger.”

Her lip quivered and he spared her the discomfort of replying right away by continuing, “If it is your choice to hear him out, I commend you. You are far more brave and strong than you realize, and the fact that you are giving him your time today is an act of kindness in itself. Do not feel that you are obligated to comfort him or give your forgiveness.”

Eris lightly placed a broad palm on her chest. “What’s in there points true. Follow your heart, little fox. Do not do or say anything for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

Eris gave her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. His thumb brushed soothing strokes over the back of her hand as she composed herself.

Her voice cracked only slightly when she asked, “Is what I’m doing wrong? Are my conditions too harsh?”

Eris took a moment. Her heart racing like the best of a hummingbird’s wings as she awaited his response. He didn’t want to steer her any particular direction. Obviously, he wanted her by his side. Hell, he needed her by his side, she was as essential as water to him at this point. But her happiness and well-being mattered more than his needs.

He didn’t want her to go back to the Night Court as he knew Azriel would try convincing her to do. A selfish part of him begged to take her hand and bow on his knees before her. He was at her will and would serve her for the rest of his days should she only ask. But she needed to make this choice for herself. She was a summer storm, his little fox, who was he to stop her from flowing whatever direction she willed its winds to take her.

So, he wouldn’t ask her to stay or think of him at all during this meeting with her mate. However, he would emphasize what she likely already knew, that he had already fallen in love with her. That he fell in love with her spirit the moment that filthy string of curses fell from her pretty mouth when they met that first day. He wouldn’t pressure her by speaking those words aloud just yet, but he could show her in the best way he knew how given the circumstances, by empowering her.

“Y/N,” he broke the silence. “I meant what I told you. What you are doing today is brave. You are strong. To face a male who has not earned your time or presence in front of his own family to hear out his side of things, or whatever it is he wishes to say - you are so much stronger than you realize. Do not worry about what he or anyone at this table will think or feel. You hear him out and you choose what is right for you. The only person owed anything today is you and what you’re owed is peace. You deserve the world, fox.”

Those shining eyes of hers welled up. He lifted her chin with a long finger, “No tears, little one. You go in there and you take your power back. I will be out there.” He nodded toward a corridor to the eastern wing of the keep. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be waiting for you.”

She placed a delicate hand on Eris’ muscled bicep. “Eris…”

“Yes, fox?”

“I don’t want to do this alone.”

I want to drink from the words you say and be everything you need.

The creak of an oak door captured their attention. A sentry entered the room, his steps echoing throughout. “High Lord, Lady, the guests are arriving.” The sentry looked to Eris, “along with the guest you personally requested.”

Y/N turned toward Eris, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Bring her in.” He replied to the sentry, turning to face Y/N. “I thought you may want someone in your corner for this meeting.”

————-

Camila, Y/N’s sister, burst through the door, all bronze skin, bouncing black curls, and smiles. “Sister!!!” She squealed.

Y/N looked to Eris. Immense gratitude radiating from her lovely face. He nodded toward Camila, gesturing to go to her. The sisters ran to eachother, nearly tackling one another to the floor.

Camila giggled, gasping as she fought to catch her breath. “I saw a red-headed male outside with long hair, gorgeous tan skin, a wicked smile, and-“ she whispered not-so-subtly in her sisters ear “worship worthy thighs, handcrafted by the gods themselves.” She dropped the whisper act, continuing, “Oh my gods, Y/N, and a scar over his eye! Giving him that sexy mysterious look that you only ever read about in smutty novels.”

Eris choked as he realized who she was talking about, capturing the attention of Camila. “If I’d known what you were hiding here, High Lord, I’d have ventured over from the Summer Court much sooner.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Camila, but Lucien lives in the Day Court when he’s not at his apartment in Velaris.”

Camila’s mouth dropped into an “O” as she realized who the male was. “Well, onto the next one then. Who else are you hiding around here for me to fall in love with?”

The laughter was broken when the Oak Door opened again, a sentry announcing the next guests. “the High Lord of the Night Court and his general.”

Darkness suddenly overtook the room, and an instinctual part of Y/N caused her to pale. She’d very rarely seen Rhysand’s darkness so adamant, and it was never a good thing. Cassian kept a straight, stoic face, warrior’s stance on full display. This male, this was the Lord of Bloodshed and not the lovable giant she’d known for decades.

She remained frozen, Camila gasping in horror before deciding that she’d rather stare daggers at the brothers of the male who cheated on her little sister. Rhysand took in the room, paying no mind to Camila’s violent glare. When he realized Azriel was not in the room, his eyes landed on Y/N and the darkness immediately faded away. Rhys’ expression softened as he directed his footsteps toward her, opening his mouth to speak, but it was Cassian who yelled, “Y/N babygirl! Look at you!”

The giant male bound right past Rhys, running to her. Leaving no time for Y/N to brace herself as he whisked her up into a bone crushing hug, spinning her in circles. “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Never leave without saying goodbye again.”

As soon as Cassian said it, he faltered, gently setting her back down with his eyes downcast. “I had no idea, Y/N. We only found out the real reason why you left yesterday.”

Eris gave distance to the trio so she could speak with the males, Camila coming to his side. Eris couldn’t help smirking at the glare she gave to the Night Court’s High Lord and Cassian. He leaned in to her ear, his low voice barely a rumble, “I’d never admit this to them but while they are brutes, they’re not so bad.”

Camila only scoffed, waiving a dismissive hand in his direction.

It was true. Rhysand had given her space to heal but regularly sent check-in’s to the Summer and Autumn Court High Lords to ensure her well-being. Both Tarquin and Eris had to swear not to tell her, but Rhysand had contributed significantly to Y/N’s extremely generous salary as emissary between the courts. She didn’t know what emissary’s typically made so she never thought about it, but it certainly was not the substantial amount that she was being paid.

Once Cassian was finished fawning over his “favorite little ass-kicker” Rhys stepped forward.

“Y/N” he said. Eyes roaming up and down her body. She was more filled in and fit than she had been when he last saw her, the radiance had returned to her skin, the light in her eyes shone bright as the stars of Velaris. Gods, he’d forgotten the way his brother’s mate rivaled even the most vibrant of summer sunsets.

She held her chin high, meeting her former High Lord’s violet gaze. Rhys pulled her close and she melted into his arms. Not just her former High Lord but her friend. She knew this. And the warmth of his strong arms embracing her reminded her of exactly that.

That stinging rejection of Azriel’s betrayal had somewhat tainted her view of the Inner Circle’s love for her. They had accepted her into their little family immediately when she and Azriel mated and she thought they’d dismiss her just as quickly when she left.

His breaking of what they had did not change that the inner circle cared for her. Rhys held her close for nearly a minute, burying his face into the top of her head, whispering how sorry he was for not realizing just how awry things had gone with Azriel and Elain. She felt guilty for leaving them.

“Don’t you for one moment regret this, Y/N. You will always have a place in my home but there are bigger things in this world for you.” He nodded toward Eris briefly with a cheeky expression that felt a lot like understanding, approval even.

She swatted at him. “Get out of my head, busybody.”

“It was written all over your face, darling.” He shrugged.

Cassian cut in. “We wanted to come in first to assess the situation. Everyone else is in the entry hall. Are you sure about this, Y/N? You don’t have to see him if you’re not ready.”

Darkness flared around Rhys again as he nodded in agreement.

She stepped to Eris’ side with renewed confidence. “I’m ready.”

Eris commanded his sentries. “Go ahead and bring them in.”

Resisting the urge to press a parting kiss to her forehead, he gave a reassuring brush of his hand against hers and began to step away.

She grabbed his wrist. “Please, stay.”

Her pleading eyes spoke what she couldn’t “I can’t do this without you.”

So, he stayed by her side as they waited for the impending shit show to unfold.

I could be so good at loving you, but only if you told me to.

————————————————-

Tags: @going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious @haechansleafblower @melsunshine @thegirlintheshadows101 @plsfckmern

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Off the Page 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: skinny!Steve

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You take a page out of Maria’s book and sleep on the train. The night at the hotel wasn’t long enough. By the time you ate, you were too tired to enjoy the fancy tub and your alarm woke you well before you were ready. As your stop comes, you’re still groggy and barely ready for your evening meet and greet. 

Isn’t this the dream? Running yourself ragged as a bestselling author? Seeing all the fans who love the words that you wrote? Who see themselves in the characters you created? So much a dream that you feel as if you’re falling asleep again. 

Wake up! You splash water over your face in the bookstore bathroom. It’s not glamourous. You have the small space to refresh before you face the masses. You hoped for a smaller crowd given the time of day and the lesser known location. How wrong you are; you can hear the buzz of fans through the walls. 

“Hey,” Maria enters without knocking. She’s like that. You and your agent have gotten rather cozy in those last weeks. A bit too much at times. “Almost ready?” 

“Yeah, sorry, I... is this blouse okay?” You ask as you touch the satin, patterned with violets, “I don’t even know why I bought this?” 

“It looks fine,” she assures, “you’re not a writer if you’re not at least a little eccentric, right?” 

“Oh, and what about book agents?” You challenge, “are they all so stylish?’ 

“Of course. We’re the face that sells the tour. All you have to do is smile and sacrifice your hand to carpal tunnel syndrome,” she teases, “just you wait until the interview. That's the heavy lifting.” 

“Interview?” You check yourself one last time in the mirror. 

“Didn’t I mention? The local station wants a sit down before we’re off tomorrow,” she explains, “I said yes. It’s a decent check and good business. Any publicity is good publicity. Publisher signed off on it too so... can’t back out.” 

“Oh, and you were going to tell me when?” 

“Right now,” she shrugs, “come on, your adoring fans are waiting for their elf queen.” 

“Oof, don’t,” you cringe, “you make it sound so lame.” 

“If it was lame, you wouldn’t be here,” she asserts. 

“Suppose you’re right,” you pack your things up into your bag and shove it in the corner. “Alright, I’m ready.” 

You follow her into the hall and through to the main area of the bookstore. It’s been closed early for the event, a meet and greet exclusive to those who claimed the limited one hundred tickets for sale. Each ticket includes the cost of a free signed edition and bookmark. Funny to think you’d once been on the other side of one of these things. The eager beaver reader aspiring to be the star author. 

As you come into sigh of the audience, they cheer. You’re still not used to that either. You wave and smile out at them. The moderator, an employee of the bookshop chain, calls for their attention over the microphone and introduces you. There’s another softer round of applause. 

You take your seat on the stool and let out a breath. You start with the reading. You try not to do the same chapter, instead cycling through your favourites. Some you even know by rote now. 

Then comes the Q and A session. You know all the answers. You find it’s always the same questions. Besides, you created this world, these characters, if there isn’t anything written, then you get to decide. 

A group a giggly women finish asking their questions about the ‘rumoured’ sequel to which you give your PR friendly deflection. After them, you wait for the next person to appear. There’s some scuffling at the microphone as they lower it. You wait patiently and smile at the slender blond man. He’s vaguely familiar. 

“Hi, um, my question is, whether Emeris is truly the promised knight or if he was just in the right place at the right time?” 

You nod as you listen, your thoughts whirring. It’s not an entirely out-there question. It isn’t what he’s asking that gives you pause. You swear you’ve seen him before. 

“Well, we can’t know for sure. I like to think of the promised knight as not a specific person fated from birth but rather a possibility for all. The promised knight is the one who can step up in that time of need and do what it is needed,” you explain. “I hope that makes sense.” 

The man doesn’t speak right away, himself stalling before he can respond, “yes, I guess it does. Thank you.” 

He lingers at the microphone for a moment as he watches you. He clutches a worn copy to his chest tightly. That’s familiar too. 

Strange. You're sure there’s lots of people who double dip. You have to admit you did it once yourself. Sometimes you just need that thrill.  

The blond man steps back and lets the next person ahead of him but he doesn’t go far. He stays close to the queue of people and you feel him staring you down. Everyone is watching you but his gaze just feels so much more intense. You do your best to focus on the person at the microphone. 

Several others ask their questions or just give their praise. The man remains. You can’t shake the sense of him. He’s like a shadow. You don’t know why you’re so aware of him. 

Finally, you finish up and it’s time to announce the special prize. It’s a raffle set up by ticket number. The package isn’t anything special; a collector’s edition, a mug, and some pens that look like quills. The moderator brings up a box filled with slips and you reach inside. You read out the number and the crowd mutters. 

“Me,” a deep voice rings out, a hand popping up from lower down. The blond man steps forward and waves his ticket, “it’s mine.” 

Strange coincidence. You keep your smile plastered on. You don’t need another Maria lecture about your tired moping. You’re handed the prize basket and you carry it down to meet the man. 

“Congratulations,” you say as he meets you at the lip of the low platform. 

“Thank you,” he beams up brightly, “it’s nice to see you again.” 

You try not to show your surprise, “yeah, uh... you too.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t remember exactly where you saw him and definitely not a name; you hear too many of those to keep track. 

“Really?” He breathes. 

“Er, enjoy your prize. Thank you so much for coming.” 

“Of course. Always. Anytime,” he avows shakily. “’To you, my queen, I bid my blood and breath.’” 

You hesitate. That’s from the book. Emeris proclaims it to the elvish protagonist on her quest to reclaim her stolen homeland. It’s flattering yet slightly unsettling to have it recited to you. 

“Have a good night,” you say gently and turn to walk back across the platform. You’re tired, you need to get out of here. 

[voidsentprinces]

Shadowbringers took Emet-Selch from ARR Lahabrea levels of mustache twirling, Saturday Morning Cartoon villain. All monologue and evil laughter while his evil boobs malevolently boobed down the Post-Stormblood's darker breast boobily and changed him into an actual character. And the first Ascian who actually spent time with us in a more meaningful way. Flipping them from one note, evil that must be defeated. To one we came to understand and a group that connected to our character's literal past reincarnation that we do not recall.

Additionally, atmospherically, Shadowbringers brought us to Post-Apocalypse that wasn't 28 Days Later, Mad Max or Rapture-esque. While pulling from all those series. Its a world 100 years after the Apocalypse was averted but still causes the world to live in its shadow.

This expansion seems to be the beloved darling of the community. Even topping Heavensward in most regards. But, also, personally, I feel like Shadowbringers is only good Shadowbringers for the last three levels of it. And rest is just so much set dressing and putting together the A-Team. For lack of a better comparison, 70 - 79 is our Avengers Infinity War. We get the band back together, fight off the big bad and actually almost win. But then we lose and we lose HARD and we spend a handful of quests somewhat wandering aimlessly until we resolve to go after the one who took victory away from us. That lead up, to me, is alright but the story didn't really HIT, outside of my long winded story analysis reasons, until we reach Amaurot.

Even its Post-Patches seemed to struggle to figure out what to do. Having Elidibus bounce hither and thither without the Scions really trying to stop him because, "We don't know what he is up to." which was counterproductively frustrating to me. You are literally not stopping and banishing the villain so the plot can happen. Alisaie literally kept tabs on the Warriors of Darkness because we were focusing on dealing with Nidhogg. Why the hell couldn't they have kept tracked and harassed Elidibus at least? But no, the sky starts to shower stars and then it is go time. And while To the Edge and the Seat of Sacrifice are awesome. My suspense of disbelief that our Scions would just shrug and only off screen keep tags on lesser Ascians and then just be like, "I dunno fellas, this here Elidibus is tricky." strikes me as dense. Like, this is denser than a dead star. They let things happen for the sake of it happening.

Bottomline, there is some wiggle room here. Shadowbringers may be the community's darling. But I wonder if, its just because we remember the super highs of Amaurot to Seat of Sacrifice. And kind of brush things like; the Ran'jit fights, the Supernatural problem of Lucifer's Cousin's Roommate being the big bad in Lunar Primals, Thancred's treatment of Ryne and Speedrunning him some redemption in the Amh Araeng second half.

I'm rambling now, as a whole. Did you enjoy Shadowbringers? If not why? Vote your answer and leave your opinion in the tags if you'd like.

Note: I am aware that the Post-Patch production was stunted by the COVID Pandemic. Still, I'd like your opinion about anything you felt lacking. Even with that dead whale hanging over the entire thing.

[talldarkandroguesome]

14th of Second Seed, Tirdas

Sildras' nameday was so lovely. Mother managed to hold her tongue. She was far more restrained than usual. She let Father take the lead on celebratory speeches and conversation.

Father looks so much more frail than he once had been. There was a thinness to his face that frightened me on first seeing it.

I did not mention anything about it to him, though. I wanted to keep spirits high for Sildras' sake.

Some of his peers in his art and riding classes were invited. All he invited were in attendance. I think it was something that many of the parents of the invited would not miss. Many of them were lesser nobles who had status to gain from being seen to be invited to our home.

Sildras was so happy to run about with his peers and show off his games and books. I do not know how much the other children were able to appreciate his particular interests or not. It is so hard to know when there are those of lower status, when they show appreciation if it is genuine or if they are trying to be on your good side. Do they want to your favor regardless? Are they appreciating what things you have without understanding the significance of the items to you? And how do you ever know?

Perhaps these are just my own lifetime of fears. I held my tongue and just let Sildras enjoy himself for the day. I will provide more guidance in such matters at a later date. Perhaps I shall have Avon bring it to him. After all, Avon has been on the other side and may have more clear guidance on how to tell.

Gifts were received from dawn to dusk. A good day to be a courier. Actually, there were still parcels being received this morning.

Sildras was very pleased to have something from Tel. Yet by far his favorite gifts were the ones from his sisters. Nabine did not allow them to attend, but I am so grateful that she allowed them to send along something. Kuna used a pelt from her hunt to make a pouch. She stamped into the leather of the inside a rough shape of the Indoril crest. Cariel made a doll of herself for Sildras and said she made one of Sildras that she kept with her, so that it was like they were always together.

He slept in today, very unusual for him. I think he was tired for being up so late last night to read the new books that Plays-With-Fire had gifted him.

If he feels up to it, I have promised him that we will go out and forage for some alchemy reagents. He only asked for me to teach him more alchemy for his nameday and I told him we would.

I am blessed that the Council, as a reaction to our awful weather, has taken a short hiatus to check in on the impact of the weather upon the lands both within the city limits and in our House's lands stretching from Deshaan to Stonefalls.

As such, I have been granted my prayers of having time to plan out my next lessons for the Nest. Maybe more important than that, I have the time to spend with my son. I know Sildras has shown his displeasure with how little time we have spent together lately. It is the least I can do to make up for all that has happened to him.

[aquilamage]

Rain world is really good but the difficulty is defo one of my biggest gripes. Like, it sets out to be a hard game, and it is, but there are straight up some areas you may fall into that are so hard to get out of people suggest just restarting! Which feels weird and bad, to me at least. The wall jumping also drives me crazy, I feel like I can only sometimes get the rhythm right for it. I’ve found tho that if possible, putting a stick in the wall as a kind of ‘check point’ helps (you may already be doing that tho haha)

I am all for a game being designed to challenge the player in whatever ways because you can genuinely get some cool things out of it, and it's fine if that's considered the 'default' mode. But there's two caveats to that.

There's a difference between well-balanced and reasonable difficult and stuff that's hard either just for its own sake without thinking about whether it's enjoyable to play/overcome or hard because it's not designed as well as it could be. I'm by no means an expert on game design but having parts of the game where the common advice is just "yeah if you end up here just restart the game" that's not like. a glitch. Doesn't seem the greatest to me.

People have said this way more eloquently than me but even if the intended experience is for the game to be difficult, even extremely so, putting in features you can select that make the game literally as easy as possible should just be the default because that just means there are now more people who can or will play the game and it doesn't actually take anything away from people who want to play it with the highest difficulty.

Literally I think my game experience would be so much improved if there was just an option for more forgiving wall-jumps or even just a plain wall-climbing option. (I don't have that much platformer game experience overall but like. I've done all of Hollow Knight's platforming challenges except the White Palace and I'm almost done with chapter 7 of Celeste and iirc those are at least considered somewhat challenging as platformers. So I think I'm allowed a little bit of saying this is related to how this game's mechanic works). And if there were other options to make things easier I might take those too and that's fine! Because otherwise you have me sitting here contemplating whether I can keep playing a game I genuinely like because of it just being too much stress on me to be healthy probably! And y'know, maybe not fun enough to be worth it, I don't know yet.

It's like how about halfway through playing Subnautica I got too frustrated with being attacked and just put in the cheat code that let me not be attacked by the monsters. Even turned off oxygen a couple times when watching that made me too claustrophobic and it was great because then I just got to concentrate on playing the game and enjoying it; and it didn't feel like a lesser experience.

And yeah depending on how popular the game is overall and how many people might feel the same there may be a mod for this kind of stuff out there. But! As I said I have the switch version and I shouldn't have to buy the game again and play on a platform that doesn't work as well for me (or at all depending on how much it demands of a computer) just to get a version that's more accessible!

All that aside I do still think it's a neat game with some great design aspects to its gameplay. Wouldn't be talking about this so much if not or contemplating other options to experience it; I would've probably just dropped it.

(Oh yeah I definitely have been doing the spears-in-the-wall to facilitate climbing. All the time, including some spots where I made a ladder of several because searching for more spears was easier than doing the climbing. Super appreciate the tip though because if I hadn't that would've been SO useful to know)

[beevean]

No worries about tangent-ing! I think you raise good points; I didn't think much of it when issue 8 came out, but with other people on Tumblr pointing out the oddness of a canon character from the 'main' medium (the games) extensively gushing about a newly-introduced one in a new medium (the comics), I've increasingly found myself also considering it a ploy to hype up Whisper more than anything else. At the very least, it paints quite the negative picture of Silver, or at least greatly undoes how powerful he is supposed to be. But then again, he seems like the type of person who would absolutely destroy himself to help others (like at the end of 06 where he tries to seal Iblis into his soul), so with some suspension of disbelief I could imagine that in the Forces!war he got in over his head and got into life-threatening scrapes and had to get helped out there. (On the other hand, iirc Sonic plus the Avatar easily broke one of those massive grey Death Egg robots or whatever they're called with a spindash through the face, sooooo... But then again, in that game little got done without Sonic for six whole months anyway. I personally enjoy Forces, but that aspect of the Resistance imo definitely is odd.) Still, I think it is strange that Silver's fanboying is getting dragged up again after it should have gotten resolved at the end of the MV saga. He had his fight with Whisper at his side, they succeeded (twice, if you count the Metal Sonic stuff early on and MV afterwards), he's gotten to know her as a person who is just as fallible and flawed as anyone else, so why does the comic insist that he still has this amazingly high view of her after it has not gotten brought up since like... issue 8 and a VERY minor mention in issue 26? It doesn't come out of nowhere, but to me it feels displaced.

Furthermore, now that I think about it, Sonic's snarky reply about Whisper being Whisper's name when Silver actually whispers during her true introduction ("No, genius. Whisper is her name.") absolutely is him being a dick! That has always bothered me. As well as that whole "Couldn't even play along, had to bring the mood down." part. Maybe some concern about the world you are living getting imminently ruined, Sonic? Hmm...

I guess sorry for my long tangents in your askbox too, but I actually find it quite interesting to think about it all and analyse it in such a way!

Yeah, it gives an odd impression. I know that calling comic-exclusive characters "OCs" is controversial :P but it really feels like that. It's a lot of telling and hyping up a character that belongs to a "lesser" canon by using a character that belongs to the "main" canon.

(also, friendly reminder that Flynn back in the day explained his decision to create Tangle by putting down all canonical female Sonic characters. That's also not a good move.)

It feels like they don't know what to do with Silver and they've also ran out of characters to use, so they're bringing back one trait they had established about him to create Conflict. To be cynical, they may be not putting in much effort to be more creative since the comic is in severe danger of being cancelled :P

Boy, I re-read those few pages of #8 to put them in the post, and geez Sonic is just so unlikeable. "My over-eager friend here is Silver" dude, c'mon! Imagine if your "friend" introduced you like this to someone you admired! This is not like Sonic calling Knuckles a knucklehead after being tricked and losing them two Emeralds, it's just making fun of a guy for being awkward, I refuse to believe that Sonic would be so insensitive! Man, if I think of all the things we let slide from early IDW because of the hype... :\

(Team Sonic Racing, which came out a year after #8, had a similar chemistry between Sonic and Silver, but it came off as more endearing, and also more befitting the context because it was during a race so Sonic was expecting some trash talk lol)

[searchenginesjournal]

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Waiting for the right person to come around and treat us the way we want to be treated sounds exhausting. In the era of modernisation, dating is seen as a necessity rather than a source of happiness and joy. When we get into a relationship with someone, we accept them as they are with their flaws and imperfections. However, it is indeed important to look out for some major green flags in the person you are dating for a smooth and happy love life. Therefore, we have compiled a list of some important green flags that are important to formulate a healthy and long-lasting relationship.

Don’t…limit yourself. Keep your options open and remember one way of finding a date is not necessarily right for everyone. There are so many options, including online dating sites, apps, recommendations, blind dates, meeting someone when socialising and more. The world is your oyster. Do…remember to have fun and that dating should be exciting. Although the end goal is to find a perfect partner, it’s important to enjoy the journey. Plan fun dates and do things you both like. If your date isn’t ‘the one’, at least you will have some fun experiences.

Do you have an ex who has been hanging around for years or a f*ckboy that’s been messing with your head? What about those people you text when you’re feeling lonely or bored or who you think you might be interested in someday? I call these people the “maybes:” the exes, previous dates, and “it’s complicated” relationships that didn’t work out the first time around, but you keep their number in your phone “just in case” or are hoping something will change.

You go out with a girl, you both seem to have great chemistry. After your date, you both go home happy and satisfied. Now you think things could only get better. But after a few days, she begins to pull away. And because you have no idea what you’ve done wrong, you become confused and frustrated, making even bigger mistakes that only push her further away. Or, maybe you’re a decent-looking guy who just never has any luck getting beautiful girls to pay attention to you. Whatever the problem may be for you, this article will help you understand some key things you might have been overlooking. When it comes to dating, there are some untold rules that many guys are unknowingly falling short on. And when you make these same mistakes for too long without any luck, dating can become just another frustrating game for you. That said, let’s look at ten mistakes that some guys may not even know they are making. If you’ve been having a rough time dating, take note of these. You might be faltering.

Kind people are charming. You’ve probably heard the idea that if you want to get a good understanding of someone’s true nature, watch how they treat those who are in a lesser position, like service staff, waiters, etc. Everyone responds well to kindness. We all want someone who has a good heart, who is caring and empathetic. A man who treats others with kindness and respect shows his woman that he isn’t just nice to her because she’s pretty or because he wants something from her. It’s his nature, and she can count on him to be that to her anytime any day. And this assurance will make her feel safe with him. As the saying goes, your looks might capture people’s attention, but it’s your character that will keep them interested. Nothing on this list has to do with looks. Meaning, they are all learnable if you’re not implementing them already.

Treat every date like it’s special: Okay, we know. Not every date is going to include sparks and fireworks. Sometimes it’s just plain boring or what you thought was going to be a great match turns out to be a total clash. But the important thing to remember is that every single date no matter the outcome is an opportunity for growth. You’re making a connection with another human, after all, and there’s always something to learn and something to share. Be curious, ask questions, find qualities about that person to appreciate, and after each date, even the duds. Take a moment to recognize how the experience contributes to your self-growth.

Repeat after me: Dating should be fun. It should not feel forced, boring, painful, or sad. If it’s not enjoyable, you’re either putting too much pressure on each date, feeling self-conscious about dating, or focusing on the wrong things. Remember that dating is not intended to have only one outcome. Every experience—whether it’s a date, Tinder conversation, or a few months of dating—brings you closer to clarity.

Ditch the loser who doesn’t make you happy. Newsflash: If the person you’re with constantly disappoints you, consistently can’t meet your needs, or refuses to commit to you, it’s time to cut them loose. Hanging on to someone who isn’t making you happy because you’re hoping they’ll suddenly change is going to waste a lot of your precious time — time you could spend meeting and getting to know someone who is a good fit for you. You’ll never meet “the one” if you’re hung up on the wrong one. So, as they say — out with the old and in with the new. Breaking up is hard to do, but trust me on this one: the only regret you’ll have when looking back is that you didn’t split sooner.

Communication skills can make or break any dating situation. Case in point: if the fact that a date hasn’t introduced you to their friends is bothering you, and you don’t say anything to them about it, you’ll probably end up building resentment until you explode — and then they’ll be blindsided. So, once again, make it a point to start sharing your needs, wants, and feelings with the people you’re dating. It may feel scary at first, but it’ll pay off in the long run by helping you to A) better evaluate your compatibility with someone early on and B) avoid unnecessary conflicts.

[pinersandiego]

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[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Finally watched Nightmare of the Wolf! Here are my thoughts in two memes:

Basically it was ridiculous, doesn’t fit in any known existing canon, and I loved the shit out of it. XD

[satorugojooo]

Can I ask an anemo vision holder and she has already lost a loved one and she doesn't want to lose al haitham also if you don't mind

A/n: ohhh yess I feel like this would turn out so niceee thank you for the request! I hope you will enjoy this and I hope that it will make your day better <3

Pairings: Al haitham x fem!reader

Warnings: sensitive themes? There will be mentioned losing a loved one so if it makes you uncomfortable please don't read it, also some speculations on what the archon quest may hold about Dottore and that tree from the trailer

You were currently searching for some informations about those devices that everyone owns. You knew that they were made to connect every citizen of Sumeru, and that because of them people couldn't dream at night, but these days something very weird was happening with these devices. It was as if someone tried to control them, the citizens were all very tense, they started arguing and Sumeru was in a huge chaos.

The traveler was working together with Lesser Lord Kusanali, Cyno and everyone else on finding out what happened, but you wanted to help as well.

"Hmm these devices are born from the Irminsul tree... Maybe something had happened to that tree? But I do not own a dendro vision, it would be hard to figure that out on my own... I think I'll contact Tighnari." you mumbled and you searched more informations.

All of a sudden the door burst open with a loud thud and you raised your head alarmed. Collei rushed in with a worried look.

"Y/N!" she yelled and ran to you as you stood up quickly.

"Collei, what's happening?" you said and tried to calm the girl down.

"I-... Had a vision these days about... A fatui but turns out that... He's actually, the Irminsul tree is on fire!" she said out of breath and you tried to catch what she was trying to say.

"What?? The tree is on fire?? But how did this happen, and the fatui? And someone went to the tree or?" you asked quickly and she nodded.

"Master Tighnari went these with the traveler, Al haitham and Nahida... I do not know what's happening but, I know wich fatui is there y/n... It's the one who did experiments on me... He's named Dottore." she said very worried and you looked at her shocked.

A harbinger?? And one of the most cruel ones for sure? And the traveler went to fight it with the others but Al haitham? Will he be alright? You both were in a relationship for some time but you were worried for him.

"We have to get there at once too, I'm sure we could help at least to capture that harbinger." you said seriously and Collei nodded.

"Okay! Dori is waiting for us outside together with Dehya and Nilou, everyone is worried for the fate of Sumeru right now." Collei said and you both rushed outside. After meeting with the other girls you all ran to the place where the tree used to be. You couldn't think straight anymore, memories flooded your mind, you remembered your best friend and how he died being killed by a Pyro regisvine. You both were small and you just found this huge plant in Liyue when your parents were on a business trip. Without having time to react, the plant attacked your best friend and not even ashes remained. You swore that you wouldn't let anyone else die that you cared for, and now your boyfriend was facing one of the most dangerous harbingers. You were terrified.

As you arrived at the tree you saw it burn very strongly. You looked around only to see that no harbinger was around but a lot of fatui were fighting with the guards and Al haitham, Cyno and Tighnari.

"Master Tighnari! Where is the traveler??" Collei asked as she threw her boomerang at the fatui agent.

The boys looked at you all and Tighnari answered while knocking off a Mirror maiden.

"They went to fight the harbinger with Nahida, Dottore tried to escape after he set the tree on fire but the traveler caught him."

"Al haitham are you alright??" you said as you used a wind current to blow the agents away from his back. As you raised your head you realized you were back to back with him and he smiled at you while slashing some fatui's.

"Don't you know what I'm capable of? Some fatui's can't just hurt me." he said and you smiled at him.

"Then let's show them just with who they messed this time." you said preparing your catalyst.

After knocking most of the enemies down Nilou started using her vision on the tree.

"This may be more complicated than I thought, this fire isn't the normal kind of one, that harbinger knew all too well what he was doing. Even if I save the tree, the devices connected to it won't be usable anymore..." she said and Tighnari nodded.

"Now the most important thing is to stop this fire, after we can figure something out." he said and she nodded. After many tries you managed to put down the fire and Al haitham came to you.

"How are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" he asked and you nodded.

"I'm fine Haitham, as long as I know your safe I'm fine..." you said relieved and when you closed your eyes you felt yourself being pushed in a chest. You replied to the hug by putting your hands around Al haithams waist.

"You don't have to worry about me, you won't lose me... I know what happened to you in the past, but I will always stay by your side." he said in a soft tone and you hummed.

"Yes, I try to convince myself that you will be fine but when I heard a harbinger was involved I just... Lost rationality." you said and he rubbed your back.

"It's all okay now, everything will be fine." he said and you smiled as he kissed you softly on the lips.

[cheesus-doodles]

Yo is it just me or does it make sense for yandere kokonoi (and maybe inui too) to keep a very close eye on darling's medical appointments and physical health? Cuz he definitely was traumatized when he lost akane... so i'm thinking he'd be the type to run them to the doctor's over a small fever- since he has those resources now, he'd want to use them every chance he can.

(idk it just reminded me of how i have an uncle who grew up in an area where it was really hard to find/buy shoes, so now that he lives in a better place, at least once a month he'll try to buy shoes for me. I think that koko might develop similar behavior but with medical stuff instead of shoes)

ah I do love me some Koko love. I've been feeling kind down this week :/ back here to escape again - hopefully life has been kind to yall :)

Masterlist

‎

Ahh definitely sounds like Koko (and to a lesser extent, Inupi, no matter how much this boy denies it). Being unable to pull through for Akane all those years ago, now that Koko had the means, this boy was determined that he would never fail you the same way. He was your bestfriend after all, and he would make sure that you were well-cared for at all times, that you would never have to suffer even a single moment (or rather, he would never have to suffer through the potential mental trauma of losing someone so precious to him again).

Started out as just him pouring over you, anxiously wringing his hands whenever you have a sniffle even if its after coming out of an air-conditioned environment - you go along with it and allow Koko to indulge, dragging you to the doctor's whenever, because you don't want him to have another nervous breakdown like when you refuse. Somehow manages to pull Inupi into this as well when he finally gets to meet you - you and your mannerisms and the way you treated him remind this boy too much of Akane for him not to get involved in your life.

Koko definitely has a team of private doctors on his retainer and on call 24/7, all of whom are very well certified and come highly recommended, yet even still he can't quite trust them to see you without him or Inupi present. What if they didn't know how to properly handle someone as fragile as you? What if these "doctors" tried to fool around with you, or tell you all sorts of lies about him and Inupi, or tried to help you run away? The two of them make sure that they are there the whole check-up session, insisting that they can help to remember what was said, that they were making sure the doctor treated you right, honestly anything to convince you to let them sit in. And if words didn't work, crying always did the trick.

But when you start insisting that you were okay, that you really didn't need all the fussing and would like to stop having to see doctors every other day so you had time to attend school and do literally anything else, Koko would instead very guiltily start making you feel sick. Nothing serious of course, just enough to make you feel maybe weak in the limbs, or giddy in the head, enough to 'help' you to agree to yet another doctor's visit. A mild case of vitamins or sugar deficiency, some stomach discomfort - symptoms that are easy to induce and easy to resolve. The two definitely do collude to make you weaker as time goes on though - still nothing that could actually harm you. But you were a lot more agreeable and malleable when you didn't have the strength to do much more than sleep and eat, plus Koko had the opportunity to get you to see even more doctors and have more check ups.

And Koko and Inupi 100% absolutely loves it when you were so dependent on him - Koko especially loves helping to draw your blood every day for all the various blood tests that he orders under the watchful eye of a trained nurse (and then later on by himself), loves helping you swallow the variety of pills that you get prescribed for your various symptoms together combined with all the supplements he makes you take. Inupi secretly enjoying helping to spoon feed you and gently lifting you out of bed and into a wheelchair (refusing to let you walk even if you said you were feeling okay after that one time you fell over), pushing you around wherever you needed to go. And you were happy to repay them in anyway you could, letting the boys cuddle with you whenever they wanted (since you spend most of the days sleeping anyway), freely handing out affection and attention.

Once you "started getting better" and recovered your strength, Koko and Inupi definitely throw you an enormous party to celebrate - a cause to celebrate given that you were also finally starting to listen to them and give in to their strict supervision and close monitoring of your health.

[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[girlnextmorgue]

Who I Think Creepypastas Kill

NOTICE: This post is a reupload from my old Creepypasta fanfiction blog (now my main blog). If you’ve seen it before, that’s probably because it was posted there first! I pinky promise that I’m not stealing anything, simply moving my old work here for organization purposes.

ORIGINALLY POSTED 5/3/21

-

so im a bit of a true crime junkie and by that i mean i used to binge watch criminal minds and am an avid viewer of miss bailey sarian's murder mystery & makeup monday series. this means that like... i have the basic knowledge about serial killer signatures and motivations that most true crime nerds have

but anyway i was out running errands and i was like hmmm... what if the creepypastas didnt kill random people... what if they actually had signatures.. And Boom New Headcanon Post

as always, requests/asks are very open and i encourage you all to send one in if you like my writing & headcanons :) enjoy!

––––––––

Jeff generally only kills randomly and sporadically when he's having breakdowns. This doesn't happen often, and he only gets this upset when he lets himself spiral without acknowledging it for weeks or months at a time. When he targets people, he looks into abusive or neglectful parents (usually the latter because he can relate better). Though this usually ends up with kids being put into the shitty American foster system, Jeff sees it as the lesser of two evils.

BEN will screw with anyone; he's a ghost computer virus, come on. To be honest, he's less of a killer and more of someone that fucks around and ruins people's lives for fun. He's probably at least a little based because of all of the content he consumes by just existing through the internet, so I can see him deleting important things from political databases and messing up technology that billionaires spend millions on perfecting.

Since Toby, Tim, and Brian are all proxies, they kill whoever Slenderman directs them to. These people are usually perceived as threats to Slender himself, the mansion, or the world as Slender prefers it. He also has the proxies patrol the areas around the mansion's main locations in order to keep people away from it. Sometimes they're also sent to assist other Creepypastas on their endeavors should Slender deem it necessary.

Jane targets shitty people that the system doesn't punish. This usually means murderers, abusers, rapists, and the occasional radical bigot. She tries to make life better for people that are targeted and taken advantage of.

Clockwork goes after abusive people and/or families. Unlike Jeff, she does her best to make sure the affected people move on to better lives, whether that means kids getting adopted or widow(er)s moving past their abusive relationship. If they don't get that, she does her best to give it to them, even if they don't know she's helping them.

Nina began as a Jeff copycat, targeting the same people that he did. Eventually, she developed her own style. She now goes after people who remind her of the kids who harassed her and her brother, usually school bullies, but sometimes general bullies outside of school environments.

Eyeless Jack doesn't kill people very often. He started out that way, but only because he was starving and needed to eat. Eventually, he grew into a less brutal way of getting food. He now performs quick surgeries on sleeping people and takes one of their two kidneys. It's illegal and horrible, but it makes him feel better that he isn't killing anyone.

LJ kills kids. There's no way around it. It's just what he does.

Helen, like Nina, targets people that remind him of those that tormented him in school. Sometimes he also robs craft stores, but that's less because he can't afford it and more because he thinks breaking and entering into closed stores is a fun little pastime.

Liu takes a similar route to Nina and Helen, going after people that remind him of the asshole kids that bullied him and Jeff in school. He also follows up on the kids that Jeff leaves orphaned, doing his best to make sure they end up living safe and happy lives. Way to pick up on Jeff's slack, Liu.

[martuzzio]

The idea of Ren joining the Amputees-Only club sounds so bittersweet... cuz before he knew they were having fun, but also knew that they were allowed to have a bond like that. He never expected to join them.

I can honestly imagine in his first few meetings there's a few times where Ren just cries, poor guy...

Rendog's first Amputee's Only Club Meeting (written under the cut because this one is longer than normal)

Despite what the universe seems to think, Doc is a pretty easygoing guy. Yes, he does look scary as hell and yes, he was a mob boss at one point, but that doesn’t mean he’s a violent person. Well, he’s violent when he needs to be, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. In reality, his favorite moments are all from quiet parts of his normal, boring, daily life as a hermit.

In these everyday moments, Doc likes to process things. He likes to sit in the greenhouse and watch the bio bees work alongside the robot bees. He likes to brush his fingers on the plants and let his half-robotic brain process the data into something that resembles touch. He likes to listen to Grian and Etho chat as they work.

He observes small moments like these because that’s all he really does. He takes in data and processes it. He uses the processed information to judge his surroundings and react accordingly. Sometimes this means that he uses his data to laugh at his friends who make dumb jokes. But sometimes he uses the data to run, hide, or fight back. When all you do is process data to keep yourself alive, it becomes very hard to ignore incoming information.

This is how Doc eventually locates Ren. He wasn’t planning on finding where his longtime friend wheeled off to, much less go searching for him, but Doc unfortunately decided to take a more leisurely route to the bridge and his camera eye caught the slight movement anyway. Doc has to give it to him; the man knows how to hide. The werewolf is in a lesser-used community room, curled into a dusty couch that’s been shoved into the corner. The chrome wheels of his temporary mobility aid reflect off of the window overlooking deep space. Ren has his left leg drawn up to this chest. His stump of a right leg rests on the couch cushion, shunned. Ren’s obviously hid because he doesn’t want to be found, but unluckily for him, Doc was specifically altered to notice things.

Ren’s flinch when Doc claps his hand on his shoulder is almost unnoticeable. Ren looks like he’s either been crying or had a bad allergic reaction to the dust. Doc assumes the former.

“Cub was working on your new parts earlier today. They look pretty sick,” he ventures.

Ren looks like he has the entire universe on his shoulders. “That’s wonderful,” he mumbles. He opens his mouth as if to say more, but instead sighs and slides his eyes shut.

Doc plops down on the couch and slings his arm over the back of the rest. The action makes Ren recoil again, this time more visibly, and Doc pointedly ignores it. Instead, he says, “As much as I want you to come see what Cub is making, you will go to him when you feel like it. There is nothing you need to do right now besides heal.”

Ren barks out a wet laugh. “Bro, I appreciate you so much, but how can stumps heal?”

Doc’s cybernetic hand twitches in sympathy. “You know what I mean, man, and we both know it.” Doc replies. He looks down at the sliver of space between his leg and Ren’s and chews his words. Ren shifts his gaze to Doc’s arm, then to gaze directly at the creeper’s face.

Doc feels uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before. All of the other amputee hermits were already amputees when they joined the crew. They had time to heal, be angry, and let go in their own ways. He did, too. But now, with Ren sitting next to him, suffering through the same kind of anguish Doc felt when he first woke up from being operated on, Doc suddenly doesn’t know how to act. How do you comfort someone who literally lost a third of their body? As much as Doc knows what that feels like and as much as he wants to help his friend, he might not be able to. He might not ever be able to.

It’s the single most heartbreaking thing that Doc’s realized in a long, long time.

This revelation causes the duo to sit in silence for a long while. Then, Doc gets an idea. His eye shifts to look at his friend. Ren narrows his eyes tiredly but waits anyway.

“The Amputees-Only Club meeting is in a few minutes.” Doc murmurs. Ren is silent, but he plows on. “I think you should come,” he pleads. “I think everyone would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I’m sure they would.”

“I would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s eyelids squeeze together. “I know you would.”

“Then let’s go,” Doc insists as he pushes himself to his feet. He turns around and smiles as much as he can at his friend, still curled up on the couch. Ren gazes exhaustedly back. “I think it would be a good idea.” He wishes his smile weren’t so frightening.

Ren moves to rub his eyes with his hands but remembers he’s missing one of his arms a little too late. The resulting crumpled expression immediately burns into Doc’s deep storage memory. “I don’t know, Doc.” The werewolf manages after a long moment. “I appreciate you trying to help, but…”

Doc understands. Of course he does. When he first joined the hermits, the idea of a weekly club meeting exclusively for amputees sounded farfetched at best and belittling at worst. Hell, he didn’t even think there were enough amputees on the team to warrant a club. Imagine his surprise when three other people showed up to his first session, all excited he was there to hang out with them.

With this in mind, all he can do is repeat, “I think it would be a good idea.”

Ren stares up at him, and in that moment, he looks as old as Xisuma. But then he gently closes his eyes, inhales slowly and shallowly, and motions for Doc to drag his mobility aid closer. Doc complies immediately.

The journey to the meeting room, like every other journey on the Hermit Craft, is long. It’s made even longer because of Ren’s inexperience with his aid, but Doc doesn’t dare to offer his help. They eventually end up in front of the elevator that Doc remotely called beforehand with his brain chip. When the doors open, Doc lets Ren wheel in first.

Ren is silent in the elevator. Doc tries to catch his expression, but his friend’s unruly hair blocks his vision. “We’re playing cards tonight.” He mentions.

“That’s what you do at every Amputee-Only Club meeting.”

Doc shifts his eye back to the elevator door. “…Correct.”

Ren doesn’t reply.

When the duo finally reaches the Club meeting room, Doc pauses outside for a moment instead of directing his brain to open the door like normal. He glances down at Ren again and murmurs, “if you don’t want to go back, or to your room or something, that’s—”

“It’s fine,” Ren interrupts. He sounds defeated. “We walked all the way here, so we may as well go.”

Doc activates the door without another thought.

The door slides open and reveals the club room. It’s small, smaller than the average community space on the Hermit Craft, but it feels warm. The soft yellow color painted on the walls matches pleasantly with the yellow of the couch cushions. Joe definitely was the one to orchestrate that. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner that’s set up to have nice views of outer space. Various game tables fill the rest of the room, a few surrounded by five chairs. Doc wonders if Ren will notice the new chair addition. Maybe he already had.

The most interesting part of the space, though, is the people within it. TFC is bundled up on the couch, snoring pleasantly and covered in at least ten blankets. His usual plate of cookies is already half eaten. Iskall is standing at the kitchen counter, fiddling with a teacup filled with a mysterious bright pink liquid. His outfit has a few suspicious-looking singe marks at the hem. Finally, Scar is sat at the poker table in the middle of the room, crossed legs resting on an adjacent chair. He’s sorting through a pile of yellow and orange chips. To Doc’s continued wonder, the stack of bright blue cards resting near Scar’s elbow have miraculously not been knocked onto the floor yet.

When the doors open, Scar and Iskall look over. Ren immediately shifts at Doc’s elbow. Doc waits a moment to let Ren speak if he wants to, but when his shorter friend remains silent, he clears his throat in a grinding noise and announces, unnecessarily, “We’re here.”

Scar is so excited that his eyes have turned into little slivers of green. “Ren, I’m so happy you decided to tag along!” He kicks one of the chairs out from the table and clonks his foot on it for emphasis. The blue cards wobble on the edge of the table but still refuse to fall. “Sit down! Iskall can get you something to drink. Have you ever played poker?” He leans forward with the question. “It’s difficult, but I think it’s fun!”

“Uh, I haven’t.” Ren replies awkwardly, still at the door alongside Doc. “I’ve never even heard of it before.”

“Yeah, I would be surprised if you knew about it. It’s one of those old-timey games from TFC’s era.” Iskall says from across the room. He is now by the couch and is gently patting TFC’s fluffy hair to wake him. “Don’t worry that you don’t know. We’ll teach you.”

Ren tries and fails to make a pointed noise of interest, but he still seems intrigued. Doc feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He rolls his shoulders to relieve some tension and moves to sit down. By the time he turns his head to look back, Ren is already wheeling forward to join him but looks lost as to where he should sit.

“Howdy, Ren. Sit next to me so I can teach you, but I’ll only teach if you’re willing to listen.” TFC, now awake, grumbles good-naturedly as he heaves himself off the couch. With his large frame still wrapped in a dozen blankets, he looks like a huge bear compared to Iskall. Which is impressive, Doc thinks, since Iskall is nowhere near frail. TFC’s metal prosthetic clonks on the floor as he walks over to the poker table. As he sits down across from Scar, he says, “There’s no point in just sitting there and gawking at us. Grab a seat.” He uses his leg to nudge the chair to his left.

Ren blinks and maneuvers his aid to let him sit down next to the astronaut. TFC procures a blanket from his pile and offers one to him. Ren, after slowly settling in his chair, accepts the pink fuzzy blanket. Doc accepts a purple one.

TFC lances over to Ren as he saves the blue cards from the edge of the table. “Poker’s good fun. You’ll get it in no time.” He snorts and flicks his gaze to Scar, who is busy stacking the chips into a pyramid. “This one always makes sure we have a great, long game.”

Scar looks up and winces minutely in a false apology. “Sorry about that.”

TFC chuckles. “Boy, I’ve never had better games than when I play with you.”

Scar’s grin almost sparkles. TFC and Doc grin back and Iskall hides his laugh in his shoulder.

“Anyway, ready for your first game with us amputees?” TFC brings the conversation back to Ren, who suddenly looks a lot more uncomfortable.

“I,” he begins, his eyes flicking to TFC, then Doc, before looking down. “I, well, uh…”

The table is silent. Iskall is staring at the table with his hands in his lap. TFC sighs and begins shuffling the cards. Doc, as much as he wants to clear the air somehow, can’t seem to find a way to do so. Scar just looks sad. He looks right at Ren, almost through him.

Ren stares back, eyes wide.

“You don’t want to be here.” Scar says quietly, finally. It’s not a question. Ren’s choked response makes the ex-convex smile slightly. “You can say so, Ren. You’re not going to hurt our feelings. None of us want to be here. But, as much as we may want to, we can’t change what happened to us.” He falls silent again as he looks at a particularly twisted scar on the back of his left hand. He rubs at it harshly with the pad of his thumb before Iskall stops him. “This might be selfish,” Scar continues, softly, “but I’m happy that I at least don’t have to sit in here alone.”

For a long moment, the table is silent. Then, with a rush of noise, Ren makes a sound like he’s dying. In a certain way, Doc thinks, he is.

“I don’t want to be here,” Ren confesses as his open mouth contorts and tears roll down his face. “I don’t want to be here.”

All Doc can do is wrap his arms around everyone else, encasing Ren and his other amputee friends in his embrace, and wish he could do more.

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

[venicebixch]

Devil in Miami part 3

this part is not as exciting but it’s crucial to the story line. i appreciate you guys. enjoy!

key terms for those unfamiliar:

Money laundering/washing - basically you take the money you make from illegal activities and funnel it through a legitimate source (like a legal business) so that you can disguise the money as legal profit and spend it without raising suspicion from the government. if you ever watched breaking bad, that’s what they were doing with the car wash.

Grey market - where authentic products are sold through an unauthorized source. not technically illegal but it is frowned upon.

Black market - most know this one but it’s basically illegal selling and trading of all kinds of stuff

i recommend looking them up if you’re still not sure, you can get more in depth explanations. :) but hopefully this makes sense as these will be recurring terms.

I start to panic. I have no fucking explanation. No lie is going to get me out of this. I’m caught red handed.

I feel my cheeks flush red from adrenaline. “I uhm… I was just looking at it.”

He starts laughing and the draws his brows together. “Yeah? You broke into my safe to look at my watch?”

“Yes,” I barely squeak out.

“Come on. I’m not fucking stupid… despite what you say about me when you think no one can hear,” he pushes the gun harder against me. “What were you doing?”

Should I just be honest? Maybe if I’m honest he’ll just let me leave.

I swallow. “I was gonna take it,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You were gonna steal from me?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I need the money,” I say quietly.

He puts the gun down, and stares at me for a moment like he’s thinking. “This is your job, isn’t it? What you said was your sales job?”

“Yeah.”

“How often do you do this?”

“Twice a week at least.”

He scoffs and grabs my wrist, pulling me out into the living room. “Sit down,” he demands.

I obey and sit on the couch, looking down at my hands.

“So what’s your strategy?” He asks, crossing his arms and sitting in the chair across from me with the gun sitting on the arm rest next to him.

“Like how do I do it?”

“Yeah. Who are your targets, what’s your game plan going into this shit? Is it just people? Do you rob stores too?”

“It’s just people. Men.”

“Mhmm,” he eggs me on.

“We look for -“

“We?” He asks.

I sigh. “Me and my friend Madison. We look for guys who are drunk and have something expensive on them. Like nice clothes, or shoes -“

“Or a 120,000 dollar watch,” he smirks.

$120,000? Fuck me.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Things that can be taken easily.”

“And then what? You sell them?”

“Yeah.”

“To who?”

“Anyone who will buy them. Lesser, untraceable things like a Gucci jacket can go on eBay or even Facebook marketplace for anywhere from 100-500. Truly big ticket items are rare… like your watch. But for any jewelry or higher end speciality item worth more than 2,500 dollars, I have a guy.”

“A guy?”

“Yeah. He works at this place that functions like a business on the surface but does a lot of grey and black market trading under the table,” I say.

“How much would you have gotten for this?” He asks, holding the watch up.

“If that’s truly worth 120,000 then I would have gotten around 30,000.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How much money do you make in an average week then?”

“Anywhere from a few hundred dollars to 18,000. 18,000 was our biggest score, that was a couple months ago,” I glance down at his watch then back up at him. “We average around 6,000 a week, though. But it’s split between us, 60/40. 60% of the profit to whichever one of us scored the item or items, 40% to the other. It’s a team effort.”

“And how do you typically go about getting these items? Because I know they’re not just handing the shit over. Do you have sex with all of them?”

“Oh god no,” I shake my head. “I’m not a fucking prostitute.”

“Oh, so I was special?” He smirks at me.

I roll my eyes. “You’re handsome and nice enough. Or so I thought. And… it’s been a few months. I thought why not? No different than a normal one night stand.”

“Except for the part where you try to rob me of my favorite piece of jewelry.”

I smile. “Yeah, except for that part.”

“So how do you get the shit then?”

“We usually drug the men once we get them alone. When they’re knocked out, we clean them out for whatever they’ve got.”

His eyes widen. “Damn.”

“Yeah. But sometimes we get lucky and they leave the room to do something like take a shower, for example, and we snag what we can and run. I know it’s ironic but we try to do things as ethically as possible. We avoid physical interventions and harm where we can.”

“You’ve never been caught?” He asks.

“No.”

“How?”

“We only hit up very specific clubs in a sort of cycle. Most of the time we’re not even in Miami. We have to travel far.”

“The men you rob don’t report you?”

“Even if they do, I give them a fake name and I’m from out of town. Police don’t really care about thieves as much as you’d think. They’re not gonna send out a search party for some guy’s Louis V fanny pack.”

He chuckles.

“But honestly most men are too embarrassed to make a police report the next day anyway, so it usually slides,” I say.

“So what’s your real name then?”

I hesitate to tell him.

He sighs and points the gun at me, raising his eyebrows.

I look away and roll my eyes. “Y/n.”

“Do you even live in Miami then?”

“I do.”

“Okay… and 6,000 dollars a week. You said you split that 60/40?”

“Yeah.”

“So, let’s make it simple and split that evenly. So you personally make an average of 3,000 dollars a week. 12,000 a month. We’ll round and say about 140,000 a year. All untaxed, of course.”

I never realized it was so much.

“Yeah. I guess so,” I shrug.

“That’s actually pretty impressive, little lady,” he smiles at me.

This confuses me. “You’re impressed?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “How do you launder it?”

“Launder it?” I ask.

“Yeah. And do you work an actual job or is this really all you do?”

“I don’t launder it. And this is all I do.”

“How do you spend it, then?”

“Um… honestly, I don’t really. I just pay the basic bills. I still live with my step mom, Lisa. I do buy myself little things here and there. Nice shoes, a nice dress. I take little vacations. Things that don’t require paperwork.”

He stares at me for a moment as if he’s in shock. “So you’re content just living with your step mom?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Do you wanna spend your money? Be able to do things like get a nice place of your own?”

“Well, yeah.”

He thinks for a moment and then smiles at me. “I can help with that.”

I furrow my brows and cock my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Remember how I said I help rich people manage their money?”

“Mhmm,” I nod.

“Well…” he shrugs.

It suddenly hits me. “Oh! What? You launder money?”

“Usually for people far, far wealthier than you. But, I really like you,” he says, smiling. “So I’d be willing to help you if you’re interested.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Mhmm.”

I sit back and think for a minute. “How can I trust you?”

“I could be asking you the same thing,” he says.

I stare at him for a moment. His demeanor is relaxed, patiently waiting on my decision.

“And if I say no?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You’d be stupid to say no but that’s your choice.”

I glance at the gun, then back up at him.

He looks down at it. “I’m not going to use this unless I have to. You’re free to say no and leave now,” he looks back up at me. “But I hope you say yes. You won’t regret it. I could do a lot for you, y/n.”

I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.”

I nod. “Okay. I’m um… I’m gonna leave then. I’ll let you know in a few days.”

He sighs and looks slightly disappointed. “Okay.”

I stand up. “My bag is in your office.”

“Be my guest,” he says, gesturing toward the hallway.

I grab my bag and come back out, slipping my heels back on by the front door.

“You got a ride or something?” He asks, walking over to me.

“Yeah. Madison is a few streets over waiting on me.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Team effort, huh?”

“Yeah. We never do this alone.”

He steps a little closer to me and grabs my hand, opening it. He hands me a folded piece of paper. “Call this number if you decide to.”

“Who’s number is it?” I ask.

“My burner,” he says softly. As he looks down at me, I can feel his breath against my face.

I put the piece of paper in the side zipper of my purse.

“I do hope you say yes. And even if you don’t, I’d still love to see you sometime. Maybe I can take you on a proper date. Hopefully you don’t try to rob me again,” he chuckles. “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

His hand comes up and moves my hair to rest behind my shoulder and he places his hand on the side of my neck. His eye contact and touch make my core start to throb again. I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

I take a deep breath, smiling at him. “Maybe.”

I turn around and open the front door.

“You want me to walk you to her car? It’s late, and there are crazy people on the streets. Someone might try to rob you or something,” he says in a serious tone.

I roll my eyes playfully and smile. “Oh you’re real funny.”

He starts laughing and I pull my gun out of my purse, pushing it against his chest, catching him off guard. He freezes. The fearful look he’s giving me makes me giggle.

“I think I’ll be fine. Thank you though,” I say softly. I kiss his cheek and the close door behind me.