#relevant villa

[willkimurashat]

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry😂😂😂😭😭😭 on the one hand it’s so ironic lmao Finn is getting war flashbacks from the word “ex” and Kat is back, on the other- NOBODY ASKED FOR GODFORSAKEN EX IN THE VILLA 2.0😭😭😭

[pinimi]

no wait fuck night island is a mini series 💀💀💀

[archatlas]

The House of Courtyards Studio VDGA

Being Studio VDGA's maiden project in UAE, they tried to be very close to vernacular architecture and give full justice to the context. This design combined the principles of Vastu (Indian architectural guidelines) and the contextual relevance of the project. Set on a footprint of 30500 sft, the villa had elaborate user requirements. Balancing the space planning while creating hiatuses of visually pleasing architectural elements was always considered while designing. The house plan is dotted with courtyards that breathe life into the spaces.

[mrsbsmooth]

Smut writing 101: What I wish someone had told me when I first started.

So a conversation with @queen-of-boops and @longbobmckenzie sparked this post. Sarah already wrote a list of tips for writing a villa fic which was really helpful and people expanded on it a lot, so we thought it might be helpful to share a few tips for writing smut from some of the writers that do it a lot.

This is a long-ass post, because I've learned a lot over the years. So right at the end, there's a mini how-to guide for how to turn your smut from IKEA instruction manual into an explosion of sexual tension.

In addition, I would love for others to add on to this. This fandom is horrifically talented especially in writing brain-melting smut, and this is just what I could come up with in a few hours. But I'd love to hear from other people and have them add on extra bits!

A few resources before we begin:

The Smut Writer's Dictionary

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic [HIGHLY recommend sections ii (Reaction words), iv (sexy alternatives to 'said'), xii (generally acceptable slang terms) and xvi (Some do's and don'ts of smut writing).]

OneLook Thesaurus is much better than other thesauruses at suggesting words for smut (I've found).

Now, on to the advice!

Tip #1 - It's normal to find it difficult and cringe to write. Own it.

Smut can be intimidating. It can feel really cringe and awkward and you might feel like people are judging you for it, and you know what? Sometimes they are. Smut isn't for everyone, and not everyone wants to read it, and that's why ratings and tags exist on Archive of Our Own. But you shouldn't be ashamed of writing it. Smut is fun and awesome and people who do like reading smut often love reading it, and will absolutely eat up whatever you give them. So go nuts. Write what you want to see, write what you want to read. That's advice for everything, but it's especially relevant for writing smut. Because if you feel awkward, it can sometimes show through. Lean into it. Let it happen. If you make yourself blush, you’re doing a fucking awesome job.

Tip #2 - Writer’s block.

I've written hundreds of thousands of words of pure, unadulterated filth, and I still struggle to push into it sometimes. The leadup comes so naturally, the tension builds, they're kissing, they're starting to touch each other, and then-- writer's block. I stare at the page and tap my fingers and go... huh. Same with writing really effectual kisses, or writing orgasms. There's all this pressure to make it the best written orgasm that's ever existed in the English language and it really doesn't need to be. Just put something down. 

If your doc looks like this:She clawed at the wall, knowing she was coming apart at the seams, the pressure building inside her. He didn’t let up. [orgasm bla bla bla]. She took a deep breath. She drew herself off him. She turned around. And she fell to her knees. [blowjob and he's loving it].

Then your doc looks just like mine.

Tip #3 - Pick the right words for everyone’s bits. 

See the resource above for suggestions! People have very different preferences when it comes to what to call a cock or whether or not to use the word ‘cunt’. Adjectives, adverbs– there are so many different opinions. Like personally, I have to physically restrain myself from throwing a fic across the room if it uses the word hole but that is my personal preference, and I am massively in the minority there. But my advice is threefold:

Read widely to find out what you like,

Write what you like,

Know your characters. 

Language will vary by fandom, by character, and by setting, and it’s an opportunity to really solidify their characterisation by carrying this into smut. An arrogant fuckwit who’s bedding his mortal enemy in a fit of hate-sex might use ‘into her slick cunt’, whereas a sweet, wholesome guy who’s desperately in love might say ‘pushed inside her’. But the more you read, and the more you write, the more you’ll find certain words or phrases you’re more comfortable with. 

The more smut you read, the better understanding you’ll have of what you like. The better understanding you have of what you like, the easier it will be to write. 

Tip #4 - POV can help you

Picking the right POV can make your life easier. For example, I once wrote a M/M/M threesome. That fic ended up being my very first ever 'first person POV' fic. Why? Because it turned one set of ‘his hand’ into ‘my hand’. Made it easier to understand the logistics of ‘his hand on his waist’, etc. Maybe it's lazy, maybe it's genius. I thought it was a bit of both. 

Consider whose POV is going to be the most impactful. If you’re not sure, try writing a paragraph from each. You’ll figure it out quite quickly. 

Tip #5 - Dialogue

You don’t have to include dialogue in your smut, but it can really help with pacing things and showing when the ‘end’ is approaching. Anyone who’s ever read any of my smut ever knows I’m a huge fan of cutting people off mid sentence in smut dialogue. 

They start out with “Oh yeah? You think you can make me X?” And the other person goes “Sweetheart, I’m going to make you X so hard you don’t Y for a Z.” 

But then by the end it’s “You feel–” and everyone’s gasping “Oh, fuck–” and sobbing out “I’m so– I’m gonna–” 

To me, this helps to build pacing and tension and show without telling that the end is approaching. But honestly, that’s just me– I enjoy reading people being very vocal in smut, so that’s how I write them. If that’s not your thing, then don’t do it. Simple as that. 

Tip #6 - Don’t skimp on the finale

Orgasms are hard to write. We all know that. There’s all this pressure to write the best most explosive monumental earth-shattering orgasm that’s ever existed in fiction, and honestly, it probably won’t be. But you still need to give it the time it deserves. 

As an avid consumer of smut, there is nothing more frustrating than five pages of buildup, incredible smut, tension rising, rising, rising– and then the orgasm happens in two lines and they’re immediately having a conversation afterwards. This is, no pun intended, the climax of your scene. Give it a paragraph. Hell, give it two paragraphs. Give it four. The climax is something you can write in excruciating detail and it will almost always be better for it. You can decide whether they come at the same time, or whether one comes immediately after the other (personal fav so we get to read two orgasms. Yay! Two cakes!) You can hyper-focus on every single sense. Here are some examples for writing orgasms:

Feel/Touch

The feeling travelling through the character’s body/ zones: up their spine, through their thighs, ‘deep inside them’

Their partner continuing to thrust/move

Their partner’s grip on their body, or maybe a kiss

Fingernails digging into shoulder or raking down a back

Legs squeezing

Smell

Personally I think this works better for the leadup and afterwards, but if you want this in here you absolutely can. Pheremones, cologne, aftershave, perfume, sweat, hair gel– whatever makes them smell like them. 

Sight

Their partner’s face and get detailed! Lips parting, brow scrunched, eyes closed, face in beautiful agony, wax poetic as fuck about their partner's face! What is hotter than making someone come and watching their face while you do it!??!!?

Darkness (blindfolded 👀)

‘White light behind their eyes’ is a cliche for a reason (fucking love this one)

Seeing stars/heaven see above lol

Taste

Harder to put into an orgasm but salty skin, lipgloss/lipstick? Whatever you want really

Sound

Big one. Their partner’s breath or moan as they watch/feel character’s peak

Their own breath/moans (or lack thereof can be just as effective, a ‘sudden silence’ as their breath catches in their throat can work WONDERS)

Bodies slapping together (doesn’t always work but when it does it does)

External sounds, especially rhythmic ones. A train clacking or a club baseline could simulate a heartbeat/shockwaves that you could lean into.

Pick multiple senses and focus on them. This will fill up a good bit of your climax writing. 

But you should also let them come down from it! DON’T SKIMP AFTERCARE (or after-hate??)

Tip #7 - Aftercare!

I missed this so often when I was new to writing smut and I didn’t realise how effective it could be! I always just faded to black immediately afterwards because I didn’t want to deal with the ‘cleanup’. And you don’t have to go into detail, but at the very least, give them a few minutes– a paragraph or so after the sex. The immediate aftermath of the act itself when you can really focus on the relationship. 

If they’re mortal enemies who’ve just fucked and are now horrified? Have them panting into each others’ skin. Their breaths suddenly become sharper and more reserved. They pull back from each other. Someone glares or someone says something snarky or awful. Someone showing aftercare or affection here (or being particularly cruel) reveals a lot about their character.

If they’re deeply in love and it’s comfortable for them to do so, maybe let them just lay there for a second, enjoying the feeling of each others’ bodies and letting breaths fall warmly and smiles tug at cheeks. Soft kisses, laying in silence, affection, etc. 

If they’re best mates who just fucked by accident, have the silence be awkward and have no one breathe at all. It’s tense and awkward and one has to ask the other to go get a towel or something and the other is like ‘oh, yeah, um, right’. 

Don’t skip this! It can be so impactful!

Overall Tip - Beware the ‘IKEA Instruction manual’!

The #1 most common mistake, in my opinion, in writing smut is ‘Insert Tab A into Slot B’. It’s things like, 

He moved his leg A, she touched B. He lifted her arm to C, holding her D’s, before slipping down to cup E. She ran her hands up F, touching his G, feeling his Hs caressing her I as she lifted her J and draped it over his K.

When I read this, I’m not focusing on the smut. I’m doing mental gymnastics trying to keep track of what position they’re in in my head because I’m assuming that it’s important. If you feel yourself doing this, stop. Refocus. Remember whose POV you’re in. This isn’t to say you should never tell the reader what’s happening. Just make sure to break it up a little!

Balance actions with senses. 

Let’s say you start with a basic action. (The example is buildup to smut, not actual smut, but the idea is the same)

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Instead of writing what they’re doing, write what they can sense.

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh” becomes “She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Now, make the phrase active. Instead of ‘she felt’, make it a description.

‘She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh’ becomes ‘Warmth erupted on her skin as his hand slid from her knee to her thigh’.

-> Give it details, and draw focus to them.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thigh as his hand slipped from her knee and moved higher. The silk of her skirt gave way to the warmth of a coarse, rough palm. Her skin seared beneath it. But every other inch of her shivered with anticipation.

In three steps, you’ve gone from IKEA tab A to slot B to a pretty good section for building tension. 

Examples of writing senses:

What can they feel? - ‘She’d never been so pent up, so wired, so on edge, and every flit of his practiced fingers on her waist had goosebumps shooting up her spine’.

What can they taste? - ‘She could taste the sweat on his skin, the coconut suncream on his shoulders, the salt of the ocean on the hints of stubble at his jawline.’

What can they smell? - ‘Her forehead pressed to his, that smokey, heady cologne engulfing her; curling her closer in time with his arms around her.’

What can they hear? - ‘He watched her every move, breathing quickly, so she looked him directly in the eyes as she undid his belt. Belt. Button. Zip purring as she tugged it down towards her.’

What can they see? - “Then, they opened, and he was treated to the sight of her looking up at him from her knees. Her eyes said fuck me. Her mouth said fuck me. Everything about her. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I hope this was helpful in some way. I really would love to hear any other tips and tricks that writers would like to add to this. Obviously Mo and Sarah are already tagged, but this is a full and open free-for-all.

Add your thoughts! Add what you've learned! Add what you wish you knew!

I'd love to hear it <3

[shripscapi]

Recently cleaned up some oc portraits so that I could update their lore post for the few people that are interested <3 I'll give the same disclaimer as before that I'm not a master worldbuilder or even a very good writer tbh. these are just my dolls I play with for fun.

anyways long post ahead here is your introductory guide to the characters of fitaly (fake italy) a fictional duchy set in the early 16th century.

Antonia de' Farona Antonia is the eldest child of the Duke Niccolò de' Farona. Though they interact infrequently, she has a wretched relationship with Andrea Bernardi, her sister's betrothed. She finds him dismissive and condescending and is suspicious of his behavior around her maid, Lucia. When she is wed, she brings Lucia with her to her husband's villa. The marriage lasts roughly 5 years until her husband passes (I haven't worked out from what yet, but it's not particularly integral to the story.) Seeing as they have no children, her husband's family contests her right to retain his properties and she returns to her father's palazzo, Lucia in tow. She is largely reclusive as a widow and prefers to remain in her apartments, despite having more relative freedom than her sisters. She sees Andrea as undeserving of her father's affection and believes that had she not had the "misfortune" to be born a woman it would be her in his place, and truly loathes him after her return. Despite this, there is a brief attempt by her father to offer her hand in marriage to Andrea after the death of Isabella, but she wholly refuses and begins spreading nasty (but not entirely untrue, nor undeserved) rumors about Andrea throughout court to deter further pursuits.

Isabella de' Farona Second child to the Duke Niccolò. She has been betrothed to Andrea Bernardi since they were both children. She finds him less objectionable than her sister Antonia does, but she is certainly not enamored with him. Isabella is a vivacious and charming girl, though Andrea seems entirely immune to her charms. She dies abruptly at the age of 16 (allegedly after suffering an acute illness, but circumstances are suspect) before she and Andrea are ever wed.

Maddelena de' Farona Maddalena is the Duke's third daughter, and she's rather meek but sweet. She's not particularly pivotal to the story, but it IS important to note that she too has already been betrothed, hence why Marietta had to resort to trying to marry Andrea to her widowed sister.

Paulo de' Farona Paulo is also not particularly relevant, but he's currently the Duke's only surviving male heir (thus far), so he's very doted on.

Lorenzo de' Bassani Administrator in the court of Duke Niccolò de' Farona. Lorenzo was instrumental in arranging a marriage between his young nephew Andrea and Isabella de' Farona with the intent that they would wed when they reached maturity. He hosts Andrea more and more frequently as he gets older, and secures him secretarial work at court.

Andrea Bernardi Andrea was betrothed to Isabella as a child as a means of satisfying his mother's political aspirations. Andrea is educated and ambitious but somewhat dour for his age. He leaves his family's villa to seek employment at court when he's 16, which he secures with the help of his uncle Lorenzo. He coerces Antonia's maid, Lucia, whom he is infatuated with into entering a relationship with him while at court, but shortly thereafter Antonia is wed and takes Lucia with her. During this time, he is taken under the wing of Duke Niccolò, who sees his younger self in Andrea's ambition. Several years later, when Lucia returns to the palazzo after the death of Antonia’s husband, he resumes their relationship while Antonia grows even more resentful of him. Isabelle dies before she and Andrea can fulfill the marriage contract. He is in no hurry to find a new match, but his mother immediately proposes that he marry the Duke's eldest, widowed daughter. Niccolò is inclined to agree, but Antonia causes such a fuss about the matter that it's quickly abandoned. Andrea leaves court abruptly, and takes Lucia with him, much to Antonia's dismay. Meanwhile, his mother secures the daughter of a Spanish ambassador to be his wife. The two have a very brief betrothal period before they're wed and Ysabel goes to live with him away from the eyes at court.

Ysabel de Torres y Mendoza Ysabel is the daughter of a Spanish ambassador and overall a very reserved girl. She finds herself somewhat isolated outside of Spain. Initially, she is tentatively pleased by her marriage to Andrea— she assumes he is keeping a respectful distance to allow her to acclimate— but it becomes clear over time that he is genuinely disinterested in her, and she has to fight for any semblance of affection from him. He makes no secret of Lucia as their marriage progresses, and young Ysabel chooses to make Lucia the object of her loathing rather than confront her unfaithful husband. Overall, it is an unhappy marriage from the outset. Despite this, she and Andrea eventually have children together, whom he is similarly uninterested in, except for their son.

Lucia Lucia is my favorite oc I will not even pretend to be unbiased... She is Antonia's servant and a notorious flirt and gossip. Though several years older than Andrea, she unwittingly gets his attention and is pressured into a relationship with him when he first arrives at court. Having been humiliated by the discovery that her former lover was already married with a wife and children at home, she found Andrea's overwhelming attentions a consolation for her wounded ego and a refreshing change of pace. However, by the time of Antonia's marriage, she's grown restless and is ready to leave Andrea's immature behavior behind. During her years away, she takes another lover (with some unexpected complications) but once again leaves him behind when she and Antonia return to the palazzo. Upon her return, she is surprised to find that Andrea even remembers her— even more so that he again pursues her— but she believes he's matured and acquiesces to further relations with him. After Isabella's death and the disastrous marriage negotiations with Antonia, Andrea offers to offers to take Lucia with him away from the palazzo. She accepts, and briefly experiences a honeymoon period where he freely showers her with affection away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, the arrival of his new wife complicates matters, and tensions begin to escalate as Andrea fails to satisfy the wants and needs of both his wife and mistress all under the same roof.

Bartolomea Lucia's mother (and only known relative) and also a palazzo servant. She claims that Lucia's father was a craftsman who died shortly before Lucia's birth, forcing Bartolomea to find work in the palazzo to support herself and the expected child. The story about her father is 100% not true, but Lucia believes it. Neither she nor her daughter are literate.

I think that’s all for now.. it is hard for me to figure out how to introduce them bc I have a lot of lore backlogged but hopefully everything here makes sense <3

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // FIFTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You return to the palace and attempt to tell your brother the truth of the world.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: man i’m really going to miss this arc of the story…vibes have been unmatched so far (ba sing se era >> ursa era imo even if the underlying mystery of the ursa era was rlly fun to write)

“Sokka!” you shouted, kicking the front door. You knew the Avatar’s house was under near-constant surveillance by the Dai Li, and the longer you waited outside, the more likely it was that you’d be caught. Yet for some reason, your last three attempts at knocking politely had proven fruitless, and even this more violent greeting went unanswered. Giving up and ramming your shoulder into the doorway, you flinched when it swung open eerily and without protest.

Why was the villa empty? It didn’t look like it had been abandoned in a methodical fashion; a set of clothes you assumed were Katara’s was tossed over a chair, and there were dishes in the sink. All of this spoke to a hasty exit, one that might not have been entirely willing and was certainly made without an advance warning.

From the corner, there was a chittering sound, and you all but leapt out of your skin before realizing it was a tiny, fluffy creature. Stooping down, you recognized it to be a winged lemur, staring at you with wide viridian eyes. You offered it your hand with a smile, but it only sniffed it delicately before skittering backwards, leaping around a corner and then poking its head back like it was hoping you’d follow.

“What is going on?” you muttered to yourself, deciding you might as well follow the shy animal. It made a cooing noise at you, nudging you with its small, wet nose as you reached the room it was waiting for you in. Once it had ascertained that you were safely with it, it leapt onto your shoulder, nipping your ear when you tried to leave.

You were about to chide it for the rude behavior when you heard the front door creak open. Biting your tongue, you pressed your back to the wall by the door, peering through the crack at the new visitors. Based on the winged lemur’s behavior and your own intuition, it wasn’t the Avatar or any of his friends, and your stomach dropped as you saw men wearing the familiar Dai Li uniform creeping into the villa.

“You really think the Avatar’s the one that kidnapped Princess Y/N?” one of them said.

“Who else could’ve killed Captain Chhay?” his partner said. “That man is a legend in the organization. Long Feng thinks that they kidnapped Princess Y/N so that they have some leverage to enter the palace.”

“Poor girl,” the first agent said with a chuckle. “She’s like a toy for the real political powers to play with.”

His partner scoffed. “Right? It’d be depressing if she actually cared, but she’s not exactly done anything to gain any kind of relevance in her kingdom.”

“Her and that brother of hers are making this far too easy.”

“Did you hear that the Lower Ring citizens rioted just from seeing her?”

“At this rate, a peasant uprising isn’t far off at all. The seeds for revolution have been sown, and as long as things continue in the way they have been, it won’t be long before the monarchy is done away with completely and Long Feng can finally, truly assume power.”

“Shh! What if they overhear you?”

“It’s fine. The Avatar and his friends are busy under Lake Laogai. This is only a cursory inspection. There’s no one around to hear us; when else can we discuss this type of thing?”

“I don’t know. You’re just stressing me out. How much longer do we have to stay here, anyways?”

“We have to check for Princess Y/N. Or, at least, pretend like we did.”

“Honestly, I’d say we’ve done our due diligence.”

The voices were growing closer, and you shoved your fist in your mouth to avoid making a sound, staring wide-eyed at the winged lemur, who did not even blink as it returned your panicked gaze with a steady one of its own.

“True. Who really cares if she lives or dies? It’s all the same to our plans.”

“If she dies, though, people might feel some sympathy for the royal family.”

“Nah, just think about it: as long as we can blame the Avatar and his friends for killing her, then we not only get rid of one of the royal family members, we also shake the public’s faith in the Avatar. It’s actually for the best if we don’t find her.”

“You’re right!”

They were right outside the room now. If they took another step and turned, they would see you. You shrank back even more, wishing you could melt into the shadows, meld with the wall, hide in some way that would ensure they never caught wind of you.

“Let’s just go, then.”

“Wait, what if she isn’t dead, though? If she escapes and comes back to the palace, it’ll make us look horrible.”

They took that step, but still they did not turn. You shivered, wanting to squeeze your eyes shut but knowing you could not be caught off guard in case they saw you.

“If she comes back, we can let Long Feng deal with it. She’s been a real pain in his neck, you know? If Captain Chhay were still around, he’d probably be sent after her by this point.”

One of the agents clicked his tongue. “Good old Chhay. I’d never have said it while he was still around, but he was like a polar bear dog. Who else would be that loyal to a person?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that Long Feng paid him twice the regular salary. I’d be loyal too, for that kind of money.”

They retreated from the room, and you let go of the breath you had been holding, patting the winged lemur on the head, though you were still careful to be silent.

“That so?”

“Maybe one of us will be promoted to take his place now that he’s gone.”

“Now you’re talking!”

The door to the villa slammed shut behind them, leaving you and the winged lemur alone. You buried your face in your hands, breathing in quick, short gasps, gritting your teeth as you tried to regain your composure.

It went deeper than you realized. This wasn’t just incompetency or confusion — the Dai Li were planning on utilizing the citizens of Ba Sing Se for their own means, using them to overthrow the current government and then instating Long Feng as, ostensibly, a dictator. It was only your own fortune — you were still unsure whether that fortune could be considered good or bad — that you had overheard their plot, but what now?

You were presumed to be dead. At first, this horrified you, but as you thought about it, there was a definite bonus. The Dai Li’s efforts would be focused on the Avatar and his friends, and if you were considered a vanished non-issue, then there would be no eyes scanning the city for you. It left you free to operate as you wanted, given that you employed a modicum of caution.

Digging through the wardrobe of the room you were in, which upon investigation revealed itself to most likely be Katara’s, you pulled out a scarf and wrapped it around your neck and head. Though it did nothing about your stained dress, it concealed your identity well enough that you felt more comfortable walking outside than you had before.

“What about you?” you said to the winged lemur, scratching it behind its enormous ears. “You saved my life, I’m pretty sure. Thank you for that. Where will you go now?”

The winged lemur purred at you, rubbing its cheek against your own and tightening its grip on your shoulder. You giggled and rubbed its forehead.

“Alright, then. You can help me. Come along, but be prepared; it might be dangerous. I don’t think there’s time to rendezvous with the Avatar. I’ll have to storm my own palace and demand to see my brother myself,” you said, squaring your shoulders, finding some irony in the fact that you had finally been given leave to live your life how you wanted and yet you were returning to the very place you had tried so desperately, for so many years, to run from.

After all, if Princess Y/N was considered dead, then that meant you could live in disguise and become someone else. You could leave Ba Sing Se entirely and travel the world, see the sights you had thus far only ever read about. The capital of ice in the North Pole, the city of Omashu, which was commonly referred to as Ba Sing Se’s little sister…it was a possibility. There was no one stopping you anymore.

No one, of course, except for your own conscience. You could not leave when you knew that the Dai Li and Long Feng had killed your father and were planning on overthrowing your brother. You could not leave when your people, the ones who you had been born with a duty to, were being manipulated and taxed and abused by the ones that were meant to have their best interests at heart. And, though it was less grand of a reason, you could not leave the city where Lee was. Not without telling him first.

Though you knew the villa was located in the Upper Ring, it took you a moment to regain your bearings and find the palace. After all, it was far more difficult returning without one of Quynh’s doors to serve as a convenient portal or the Dai Li escorting you with their Earthbending. The sun was already high in the sky by the time you made it to the palace gates, but by the time you arrived, you found another problem facing you.

The royal military, which guarded the palace, was in complete disarray. It was as if a tornado had torn through them. Men were strewn about, staggering to their feet, while others used their own Earthbending to fix their formations. Was the palace under attack? Were you too late? Had Long Feng’s rebellion already begun?

“Who goes there?” a guard shouted at you. You did not respond, picking up your speed from a mere walk to a sprint, holding the scarf over your head so that it did not blow off as you ran. You could not know if you trusted the army or if they were in league with the Dai Li, and unless you were forced to, you did not want to reveal who you were.

“Hey! Answer us!” another guard said. You kept running towards the bridge over the moat. You just needed to cross that bridge, and from there, nothing could stop you. They must’ve had that same thought, though, as the stones of the bridge began to recede, leaving a gaping maw where you should’ve crossed.

Then the boulders began to fly. They weren’t trying to hit you, but they were blocking your path, making your entrance far more difficult. You used one hand to cover the winged lemur’s eyes from the dust pluming in front of you, squinting your own so that you were not blinded by it.

If you did not do something, then the guards would go from obstructive efforts to far more deadly methods. Earthbending against this quantity of offensive parties was a suicidal idea, especially when you were on the palace’s doorstep and there was a high chance you’d get caught, but there was one final card you could play, the one you had been unwilling to part with most of all.

Casting the scarf aside, you pointed at the guard who had been lifting another boulder into the air to throw at you. He paused mid-action, and then he pointed back at you, like he could not believe his eyes.

“I am Princess Y/N of the Earth Kingdom, you fool, and what you are doing right now is treason! If you throw even a pebble more at me, I’ll have you hanged!” you said.

“Princess Y/N?” the guard said, the boulder thudding to the ground before him as he dropped into a bow. “We were under the impression that you were — that you were dead!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Reform that bridge at once,” you said. “Did you think that a girl of Shan’s line could be killed that easily? Perhaps I must remind you: I am the princess. As long as my people need me, I cannot die.”

After that, you walked unchallenged towards the steps leading up to the palace. It confirmed one thing, at least: the army was not allied with the Dai Li. If it was, then you would’ve been seized by now and dragged to Long Feng, but all that the soldiers did was shy away when you stalked past, giving you looks that were equal parts questioning and awed, like they could not quite believe that the shy, delicate little princess was capable of such feats.

It was only a matter of time before the Dai Li caught wind of your presence, if they had not already. You had to make it to the throne room by then. At least for now, they were limited in what they could do while Kuei was watching, for he was still the supreme authority of the kingdom. Now that you had gone and announced who you were, they ought to have done everything they could’ve to stop you, but curiously, there was no one that came to block your path.

Even stranger, the route to the throne room was torn apart and devoid of guards. There had clearly been a fight, but who had broken into the palace and managed to overtake it so quickly?

The walls were crumbling, and entire pillars had been torn in half. There were scuff marks on the carpet, and the stone floors glittered with dampness — it had obviously been a massacre. For the first time, you felt like you actually fit in, your ragged appearance matching the ruined entrance hall perfectly.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Kuei’s voice drifted out from the throne room, the door to which was, for some reason, lying on the ground. “I’m sorry, but you have no proof. I’ll have to trust my advisors on this one. Long Feng, what do you say of their claims?”

“Do you think that I could’ve hid a hundred years of war from you?” Long Feng said, his voice cold and flat. “What’s more, I’ve received some disturbing news. It seems that the Dai Li found evidence that the Avatar and his friends were involved in the murder of Captain Chhay, as well as your sister’s abduction.”

“What?” Kuei said.

“What is he talking about?” Katara said.

“I’m an Air Nomad! Killing is against my morals!” Aang said.

“Look, we didn’t kidnap or murder anyone! You have to believe us,” Sokka said. “About that, and about the war. I don’t know why your advisor is lying about all of this, but you have to see through it!”

“Even from the Avatar, this kind of situation is just too fantastical. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to arrest you, at least until Y/N is found and Captain Chhay’s murderer is apprehended,” Kuei said.

“You don’t have to look any further,” you said, pausing in the doorway to catch your breath, hunched over as you wheezed from how much you had pushed yourself. The winged lemur jumped from your shoulder and scampered over to Aang, who made a small noise of surprise at the arrival. “I’m here.”

“Y/N?” Kuei said.

“Your royal highness?” Long Feng said, his innocence clearly feigned, though his surprise likely wasn’t. You glared at him, regaining your composure and straightening before taking the same place as always: below the throne, staring up at those who would always be above you. Your brother, the king. Long Feng, the traitor. You were beneath them both, but this time, you did not allow either of them to intimidate you.

“Where have you been, sister?” Kuei said. “We thought the worst must’ve happened! The servants came in the morning, and all they found was Captain Chhay’s long-dead body. You were gone. Who took you? Did they hurt you?”

“Clearly the princess has been through a horrible ordeal, your majesty,” Long Feng said. “Look at her dress. She needs time to rest and recover from what was no doubt a most harrowing encounter.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “There was nothing harrowing about it. He didn’t even have time to fight back.”

“Of course, you must’ve managed to escape somehow, and thank Quynh for that,” Long Feng said. “But just the mere experience of being kidnapped would’ve been traumatic. Poor princess…I will assign thrice the Dai Li agents to look after you, so that you may rest in peace.”

“I didn’t have to escape, and I wasn’t kidnapped,” you said. “This kind of conduct can be expected of my brother, but I know at least you are smarter than this, Long Feng. In fact, I know a lot of things about you now.”

“No,” Long Feng said.

“Yes,” you said. “You understand, don’t you? I killed him. I killed Captain Chhay.”

Kuei shrieked. “What?”

“It’s true,” you said. “I did it.”

“No way,” Toph said from behind you. “I think I respect you a lot more now.”

“Toph!” Katara hissed.

“Dai Li, seize her at once!” Long Feng said, gesturing towards you impatiently.

“Y/N…how? How did you do that?” Kuei said. “How did you murder someone? No, not just someone — the Captain of the Dai Li himself!”

“Does it matter?” you said as earthen cuffs bound your wrists behind your back once again. “The more important question is why. That’s what you should really want to know.”

“Take her to her chambers and ensure she does not leave!” Long Feng said.

“Why did I do it? What cause could your dear sister have to kill a man? Ask!” you said.

“We will decide what to do with you after we have gotten rid of the Avatar and his friends,” Long Feng said.

“Kuei!” you said. Putting him in this position was the worst thing you had ever done to him, but it was necessary. He had to seek out the information, or else he’d cover his ears and hide away as he always did.

His eyes swam with emotions you doubted he had ever been exposed to before, a veritable maelstrom of thoughts and questions and feelings that he likely did not even know how to handle. Dai Li agents appeared at your shoulders, but you did not take your eyes off of your brother. Your brother, who loved you. Your brother, who was the only family you knew. Your brother, who was the Earth King, the supreme authority in all the kingdom. You looked only at him, and you waited.

“Stop! Release her!” he said. The Dai Li hesitated, but though their loyalty might have been to Long Feng, they still had to abide by Kuei’s commands above all else. The stone restraints crumbled away, and the agents bowed before stepping away from you. “Why did you do it, Y/N?”

“Because Captain Chhay killed our father,” you said. “And he did it on Long Feng’s command.”

“What?” Sokka said.

“This is so complicated,” Aang said. Sokka hummed in agreement.

“That — you cannot just accuse people of regicide without proof!” Long Feng said.

“You sent Captain Chhay after me. He tried to kill me multiple times in Ba Sing Se alone. That’s proof enough! He was your little pet, wasn’t he? It’s what your own agents called him, after all. The beast of the Dai Li, sent to do Long Feng’s bidding. Who else but he would’ve been the one to kill the 51st Earth King?” you said.

“You’re being ridiculous! What motivation would I have to assassinate your father?” Long Feng said.

“Stewardship over the Earth Kingdom isn’t a bad prize,” you said. “Though I’ll admit that luck did play a role. After all, if our mother hadn’t died as well, then she’d be Kuei’s regent.”

“What, did he kill her, too?” Sokka said. “This dude just keeps getting eviler and eviler.”

“No, he — actually, wait,” you said. There was no proof, but for some reason, you didn’t find it too far out of the realm of plausibility. “There’s a chance, though I don’t have any proof for that claim as of right now.”

“You’re going on and on about nothing,” Long Feng said. “I’m not the ruler of the Earth Kingdom. Your brother is.”

“Yet he only implements policies that you approve of,” you said. “Policies which, if I might add, are deliberately harming our people! You’re sabotaging his reign so that our family is overthrown for good. You mean to usurp Kuei, and don’t even try to deny it — I overheard your agents discussing it, and, more importantly, I’ve seen the effects of your suggestions firsthand.

“The only city safe from the war charging exorbitant prices to those refugees which try to enter…thank goodness for that unnamed noblewoman allowing passage through the second southeast gate, right? I won’t speculate about her identity, but I’ll give you a hint: she’s someone you’d recognize.”

“You little wench,” Long Feng said. “You wasted your own money on that? I should’ve known.”

“That’s not all. You refuse to acknowledge the disparity between Upper and Lower Ring citizens, and the Dai Li are closer to terrorists than officers of justice. The people of Ba Sing Se are frightened to speak out about anything, because the Dai Li is always watching. No wonder they hate Kuei and I. No wonder they riot in the streets! But that’s exactly what you planned,” you spat. “Because once they revolt, you will pretend to be on their side and then use the same structures you claim to be against to strengthen your power, your grip on this nation. Kuei and I might be uneducated about the reality of this world and its wars, but at least we care about our people! Can you even claim that much? What sort of an advisor are you?”

“Continuing to speak will only incriminate you further,” Long Feng said. “You have gone mad, princess. There’s no other explanation for why you killed the captain meant to protect you, or for why you are saying such things. They are the ravings of a lunatic! King Kuei, I recommend she be arrested and sent to a correctional facility equipped to handle her case at once.”

You had said all you needed to, and so you just pursed your lips and ducked your head. Your part was done; now, it was up to Kuei to do what was right. If he did not make the proper choice now, then it was hopeless. Then they could take you wherever they wanted, because you could not fight back against your own flesh and blood.

“Dai Li, arrest—” You could not help your shoulders from slumping at Kuei’s declaration. Despite everything, it had not been enough. He still did not have any faith in you. “—Long Feng!”

“What? Your royal majesty, what is the meaning of this?” Long Feng said as the Dai Li agents saluted at Kuei before clicking a pair of metal handcuffs around Long Feng’s wrists.

“Did you really think I’d believe you over Y/N? Did you really think that there’s anyone in the world who I value more than her? It would’ve been more suitable for you to pretend like you actually cared about her. I might’ve been more inclined to agree with you then, but no matter your station, if you dare to speak against my dear sister like that, then you must face the harshest of repercussions,” Kuei said, standing and drawing himself to his full height.

“Kuei?” you said softly. You had never thought that he would be the one who would do something like this. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that he would stand up for himself, for you, to this extent. Yet here he was, doing exactly that.

“You are making a mistake! If you do this, you will be remembered as a foolish, empty-minded despot who used his power to rid the kingdom of any who dared to criticize his family,” Long Feng said. “You will be remembered as a tyrant. I swear it to be so!”

“That’s fine,” Kuei said. “They can remember me as a tyrant if that is what they will — as long as I am remembered as a tyrant who loved his sister. Agents, please, take him away at once! I’ve had enough of listening to him. I think it’s time that I take counsel from more qualified parties.”

“You’ll regret this,” Long Feng said over his shoulder. “I can assure you of that!”

“And you’ll regret killing my father,” Kuei said. “I can assure you of that.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Sokka mused, earning him a snort of approval from Toph.

“Are you finally willing to listen to us?” Aang said. Kuei massaged his temples.

“Yes, I am. What’s this talk of war? Who are we at war with?” he said.

“The Fire Nation,” Katara said. “They attacked a hundred years ago. They killed all of the Air Nomads and have been steadily invading the Earth Kingdom; Ba Sing Se is the only place that’s still completely safe from their influence.”

“Because of the walls?” Kuei said.

“Yes, exactly. They haven’t managed to break through yet, which is why so many refugees have been coming here — most of them have lost their homes, and Ba Sing Se is the last hope they have at making new lives,” Aang said.

“The Fire Nation is that strong?” you said.

“That strong, and that dedicated. You know, their prince chased us all of the way here!” Katara said.

“For what reason?” you said.

“Something about capturing the Avatar and restoring his honor, I think,” Sokka said. “I’m not really sure. But! We have a way to defeat them, as long as you lend us your support.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Kuei said. “Right, Y/N?”

“Of course,” you said. Without Long Feng there to guide him, Kuei was like a baby animal whose legs were still wobbly and eyes were still barely opened. It would take time before he could stand on his own; until then, he needed someone who he could rely on, someone who could reassure him that he was doing the right thing. And since you’d rather that person be you than anyone more unsavory, you took the role upon yourself with as much grace as you could muster.

“The day of the black sun is coming up,” Sokka said. “The sun will disappear behind the moon for a window of time, and all Firebenders will lose their power. We have to strike them while they can’t fight back. That’s what we need your armies for — while they take care of the Fire Nation forces, Aang and a small task force will infiltrate the palace directly and defeat Fire Lord Ozai for good.”

Kuei glanced at you. You nodded. If they were telling the truth and this day of the black sun was a real event, then it was probably the best chance you had at turning the tides of a war that you had thus far been losing.

“Say, Katara,” you said as you walked her and Toph to the guest rooms they’d be staying in after they had finished briefing you. “Earlier, you mentioned a Prince Zuko and a Princess Azula. What are they like?”

You were fascinated by the thought that there was another pair of siblings not too dissimilar to you and Kuei, albeit younger, of course. Another pair of siblings who bore the burden of a crown. Another pair of siblings who had the weight of a nation looming over them. Would they understand the sense of duty which prevailed in you? The patriotism, the love for your subjects? You would likely never get to meet them and ask, considering you and they were on opposite sides of a war, so you settled for this, for learning about them through Katara’s words.

“They’re the worst of the worst,” Katara said.

“It’s true. They’re pretty crazy,” Toph said. “Though their uncle isn’t that bad!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say that, considering he did lay siege to her city for six hundred days,” Katara said. “And not too long ago. I mean, it happened in our lifetime.”

It was almost a credit to Long Feng’s dedication, you thought, that he had even managed to hide such a long siege from you and your brother. The fact that Ba Sing Se had been under attack for two of your years of living and yet you had not known a thing about it was actually impressive, if not unfortunate.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that,” Toph said. “He’s pretty nice otherwise, though.”

“Naturally,” you said, bemused.

“We don’t know much about Azula, except that she’s Zuko’s sister and the princess of the Fire Nation, but Zuko’s been on our tail pretty much since Sokka and I found Aang in that iceberg. Apparently, he was banished or something, and the only way he can regain his honor is if he captures the Avatar. That’s what we’ve put together from his random speeches and consistent efforts, anyways,” Katara said.

“Although, we haven’t seen him in a bit,” Toph said. “Maybe he’s settled down somewhere.”

“Or he’s in disguise,” you offered. “You could’ve seen him and not even realized who he truly was.”

Katara shook her head. “No, he’s pretty distinctive looking. He has the giant burn scar covering the left half of his face — it makes him hard to miss. If we had seen him, we would’ve known.”

Your mind blanked, your stomach churning as you tried to process what she had just said. Burn scar. Left half of his face. Where else had you seen that distinctive mark before? You didn’t want to recall, but you did.

“Does he really?” you said to Toph.

“I dunno,” Toph said. “I’m blind.”

“Ah, right,” you said.

“Like I said when we first met, though, I can tell when people are lying, and she’s not. I don’t see what the reason to lie about that would even be,” Toph said. “It’s kind of a really specific thing to make up.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Katara affirmed. “Why, what’s wrong? I guess it’s kind of weird for the prince of the Fire Nation to be have a burn wound, but it was probably a training accident or something.”

“Oh, no,” you said. “Oh, no, no, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Katara said.

You did not want to listen to them, but if they were telling the truth, and you knew in your heart of hearts that they were, then that meant only one thing: Prince Zuko hadn’t settled down. He hadn’t given up on his chase or his war. He had moved on to more strategic maneuvers, that was all. Stealth instead of strength. Infiltration instead of invasion.

“He’s here,” you said, stopping and gripping her shoulders. She blinked at you, her blue eyes wide with uncertainty. “Katara, listen to me. All of you need to leave Ba Sing Se at once. If he gets his hands on Aang, then there’s no chance of our plans succeeding.”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?” Toph said.

“Prince Zuko’s here,” you said. “In Ba Sing Se, under an alias. I’ve seen him. I’ve met him. If the Avatar is his end goal, then the Avatar must leave as soon as possible. It’s not safe here.”

“But isn’t the Earth Palace the safest place in the world? There’s no way he can get past all of those guards all by himself,” Toph said. “He’s not that good of a bender, I’m pretty sure.”

You groaned. “No, he can get in. Anytime he wants.”

“How?” Katara said.

“It’s not important,” you said, too ashamed to admit your mistake. “Look, I trusted you all, didn’t I? Now you must trust me.”

Katara seemed uncertain, but Toph nodded at you, her expression set.

“We’ll just leave early,” she said. “I’ll go see my mother, Katara and Sokka will meet up with their father, and Aang can go visit that guru. Hopefully, by the time we’re finished with those errands, things will be dealt with.”

“I am sure it will not be a problem,” you said. “But just in case, you probably should not return to the capital. Unless Kuei or I appear before you ourselves, it would befit you to assume that any summons are deceptive in nature.”

“Are you sure about this?” Katara said. “If it really is Zuko, then he must have some tricks up his sleeve. Will it be okay for us to leave you alone?”

“If Aang is killed or captured, then it will be many years before the next Avatar reaches the level of training necessary to face the Fire Lord,” you said. “It’s too great of a risk for you to stay when it’s all but confirmed that Prince Zuko is here. As for me, I have the might of the Earth Kingdom behind me. No matter what, I’ll be fine.”

“Odds are that he’ll leave Ba Sing Se once we do, too, so there won’t even be any danger to the palace,” Toph said. “Once we go our separate ways, he’ll have to split his forces up as well, so it’ll also then be easier for us to take him on.”

“There’s also that,” you said.

“You have a point,” Katara said. “Alright. Toph, go tell Aang to get Appa ready. I’ll get Sokka and catch him up.”

“Be safe,” you said.

“You too,” Katara said. Toph punched you in the arm.

“Stay sharp, princess. See you around,” she said. “You’re not as much of an idiot as you could be.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I look forward to seeing you all again — if not in Ba Sing Se, then in the Fire Nation, on the day of the black sun, when we finally bring about their downfall for good.”

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[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 16

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15

Extra Content Warnings for this Chapter: Alcohol, drinking to excess, grief, and passive suicidal ideation

Chapter 16 summary: A few days after the villa mission is completed, Dara is getting along well with the Batch. So why is Crosshair watching her drink herself stupid in some shitty bar?

Crosshair sat moodily in a dark corner of the cantina, swirling his drink around in its glass and chewing on a toothpick. The Batch had wasted their evening drinking in an unsavory bar on an equally unsavory space station, having departed Ord Mantell earlier that day only to be called off by a brief, unhelpful message from Cid when they were halfway to their next destination.

The rest of the squad had returned to the Marauder nearly an hour ago, leaving only himself and Dara behind. Dara had been resolutely ignoring him all night. In fact, she had been more reserved than usual with everyone today, even seeming unusually reticent as he watched her slip through the streets for her regular check in at the antique shop in Ord Mantell City. Now, he wasn’t sure that she was even aware he was still there. Since the others had gone, she had sat quietly at the end of the bar, apparently trying to find the bottom of the bottle of amber liquor the bartender had set in front of her, and Crosshair had left her alone.

She was, Crosshair had realized with some surprise, moping—although over what he couldn’t tell. Despite a few hiccups, ultimately the villa mission had gone fine. The others were getting along well with her and had agreed, after her helpfulness with the infiltration, that she should stick around for their next jobs for Cid. They had exchanged the files for the credits they were due and spent a few uneventful days on planet running nearly useless errands for their employer—a waste of their skills, but a waste that paid—and Dara had cheerfully assisted where she was needed. He hadn’t even had a chance to try to get her riled up today. In fact, what was perhaps most troubling for him was that she didn’t seem angry or irritated—both emotions he had almost obsessively been trying to draw out of her since they first met—but something else, something…empty. Something familiar.

Dara and Crosshair were both interrupted in their isolated reveries when a Weequay bumped quite purposefully into her side, nearly knocking her out of her seat. The alien—a pirate, by the looks of his clothes and excessive number of weapons—then rescued her from his own manufactured crisis by throwing his arm around her shoulders, leering at her lecherously. Crosshair stiffened, watching closely. He couldn’t hear what words were exchanged, but wasn’t particularly surprised when Dara took a swing at the Weequay, her fist connecting with his jaw and sending him sprawling.

Nice hit, he couldn’t help thinking. She hopped up off the barstool but swayed dizzily, her drunkenness swiftly catching up with her as the pirate’s comrades advanced in his defense. The moment she took to recuperate was enough for one of them to land a blow to her face.

Crosshair was on them in an instant, throwing the one who’d hit her against the wall with a satisfying crack that left him slumped like a ragdoll. He exchanged a few punches with a second before landing a kick that broke the man’s balance enough to grab hold of his head and knock it hard against the bar top. Meanwhile, Dara recovered and smashed the liquor bottle—which, at this point, was impressively and troublingly empty—over the head of a third. A fourth managed to trap both her arms but was on his back with a broken nose, courtesy of Crosshair, before he could make another move.

Dara had immediately wheeled around when freed, looking almost eager for another opponent, but Crosshair grabbed her by the shoulders and began dragging her out of the bar before anyone else could enter the fray.

“Let me go, I wanna hit something,” Dara slurred as they exited, wriggling in his grip. Her usual composure was completely absent under the effects of the alcohol, reminding him of her concussed state when they had first met.

Crosshair ignored her, forcibly marching her through the streets until they had put several blocks between themselves and the cantina. When he was satisfied that no one had pursued them, he sat her down on a nearby crate.

“Let me see your face,” he commanded. Whether she was too drunk to come back with a smart remark or she had simply lost the fight in her, she listened to him for once, allowing him to take her chin in his hands and gently manipulate it so that he could examine her in the light from a streetlamp. He tutted quietly a little before releasing her. “You might end up with a black eye, but you’ll be fine,” he concluded.

Crosshair got up to continue their walk back to the Marauder, but stopped when he realized Dara wasn’t following. Turning, he saw that she was slumped over, still seated, her head in her hands. He was agitated for a moment—half annoyed at the delay, half concerned that she was hurt worse than he had thought—until the meaning of her expression finally clicked for him.

It was grief.

Sighing, Crosshair sat down next to her. “Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked gruffly, after a few moments of awkward silence. He was out of his element, but he had known back at the bar that the look on Dara’s face felt familiar. Pain. Loneliness. Despair. Loss. He himself wouldn’t have wanted to describe how well he knew those feelings—especially not to her—but he knew that talking could be good for you. He had learned that from Omega.

Dara’s slurred voice was scarcely a whisper. He doubted that she would have told him anything, if she’d had full control of her faculties.

“’S the day she died. Today. So many others…gone now too. For nothing…no point. ’N here I am. Left.” She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes strangely clear and focused for all her drunkenness. “You should’ve just let them kill me.”

Crosshair stared at her for a long moment, taken aback by her honesty, her obvious, unmitigated despair. He thought back to when he’d rescued her—the expression on her face when the stormtrooper lined up his shot, the minute that she was sure she was beaten. Something about her eerie calm at the time had both entranced and troubled him. He had been unable to peg its origin. Was it bravery, acceptance, or transcendence, to embrace the lack of control she had over her fate, there, at the end, when she thought it was already too late to change anything? 

Now, he knew. In that instant, she was ready to die. She had even welcomed it.

He had been trying to find the cracks in her façade, to pry apart her careful control and find what was underneath—but maybe all that her mask was hiding was the hollow shell of a woman who wished for death, but forced herself to keep living anyway. Who let the rage he had caught glimpses of drive her, because otherwise there would be nothing left.

Following an irresistible urge, Crosshair put an arm around Dara’s shoulders, folded her into his chest, and held her, resting his chin on top of her silver hair. She leaned into the embrace, letting him comfort her with his warm, quiet presence.

The raw, yet controlled emotion in her voice, unmarred by tears, the fact that she was just letting him do this—it all disturbed him much more than if she had broken down sobbing or snapped at him or tried to push him away.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good at this.

But he knew how she felt. They were both survivors—though what she had survived he didn’t yet know.

He wanted to argue with her, to tell her she was wrong, that killing the Imperials before they could kill her was one of the few good choices he’d made after a long series of bad decisions. That there was so much red in his ledger that helping her didn’t even begin to make up for it.

They sat like that for a long time before he finally spoke.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Crosshair helped her up, holding her by the waist to steady her stumbling footsteps as they walked. By the time they reached the Marauder, Dara’s eyelids were drooping heavily; she was too far gone to protest when he lifted her in his arms and carried her the final few steps up the ramp. He deposited her in her hammock in the cargo hold, unlaced and removed her soft leather boots, and paused a minute, watching her troubled sleep, before finally crawling into his own bunk.

He doubted she would even remember any of it in the morning.

***

Crosshair was proven right the next day when Dara finally stumbled blearily into the main cabin of the Marauder. The rest of the Batch was lounging about, still waiting to hear more from Cid about their next job. Hunter whistled softly when he noticed the bruising along the side of her face.

“What the hell happened to you?” he wondered, voice tinged with concern.

Dara gently palpated the injury with some mild embarrassment before rubbing her aching forehead. “Some sort of bar fight. Wish I could say the other guy got it worse, but I only remember glimpses. Not even sure how I got back last night,” she admitted.

Tech rose, grabbing the medkit. “Here, for your head.” He offered a few pills in his outstretched hand before carefully beginning to apply bacta gel to her face. Crosshair watched him carefully, thinking that perhaps he should have done that himself when he’d brought her back last night. Seeing her unhappily asleep, wrapped in desolation like a blanket, he’d wanted badly to touch her gently, soothe her wounds.

He’d wanted it too badly, in fact. It was better for both of them that he hadn’t.

Hunter turned to Crosshair, looking for further explanation. “Were you still at the bar by then?”

Crosshair only shrugged unhelpfully and inserted a new toothpick between his lips, earning a sigh of frustration from the Sergeant. It didn’t escape his notice that Crosshair’s knuckles were scraped and bruised, but Hunter didn’t press further. Tech finished treating Dara, and Echo offered her a mug of caf.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Dara said, nodding in thanks at Echo and Tech. “Kriffing pirates. When do we get out of here?”

“We are currently still waiting to hear further information from Cid, although it would seem that perhaps our services are no longer necessary. Her most recent message indicated that the client was potentially seeking an arrangement elsewhere,” Tech updated her.

“Does that mean we can finally go back to get Omega on Pabu?!” Wrecker interjected excitedly. The rest of the team immediately tensed up, glancing pointedly between him and Dara. “Oh…I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he acknowledged sheepishly.

Dara looked between the team members curiously. “Omega?” she inquired.

The Batch was saved from having to explain by the beeping of an incoming holo. With some relief, Echo turned to the console. “It’s Rex,” he reported.

Hunter glanced at Dara briefly before coming to a decision. She had proven trustworthy so far. “Put him through.” 

“It’s good to see you, boys,” Rex greeted warmly as his flickering projection appeared in the cabin. Crosshair noticed Dara stiffen slightly, her eyebrows raising for the briefest moment. The Captain continued, “I was hoping I could bring you in on a quick consult. Could use some of your expertise. Nothing in the field, just strategizing. What do you think—you have the time?”

The squad exchanged looks. “Well, it looks like our next job for Cid is about to fall through. But just in case, you mind meeting us halfway?” Hunter offered. He trusted Dara enough to let her know about Rex, but not quite enough yet to bring a near-stranger to the clones’ base.

“Can do. I’ll send you coordinates.” Rex glanced around, noticing that there was one new face, and one missing one. “How’s the kid?” he asked.

Yet again, the men tensed, all determinedly avoiding looking at Dara. “Everything’s good with us. We’ll spend some time catching up when we get there,” Echo said firmly.

The implication that now was not the time for this discussion wasn’t lost on Rex. “Alright. See you boys soon,” he stated, and the holo disappeared.

Tech and Echo began readying the Marauder for takeoff, while Hunter scrutinized Dara for a moment. “You still look tired. Why don’t you try getting some more sleep?” he suggested.

She nodded and stood up, stretching a little stiffly. “Not a bad idea,” she admitted. Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker all watched as she disappeared into the hold.

“Sorry, guys,” Wrecker muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hunter shook his head. “Let’s just try to keep a lid on the details for a little longer. We’re taking enough of a risk bringing her to meet Rex.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow. “She’ll try to find out. She’s tenacious.”

Echo glanced back with a small smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was actually a compliment, coming from you.”

The sniper folded his arms and glared.

“Speaking of which,” Hunter interjected. “Want to tell us what happened at the cantina last night?”

Crosshair pulled his toothpick out of his mouth, rolling it idly between his thumb and forefinger as he examined the wounds on his knuckles. He did his best to look bored, even as he privately fumed thinking of how the pirates had gone after Dara. Best to keep it brief.

“She was drunk. Pirates started it. I ended it.”

Wrecker clapped him on the shoulder proudly, while Hunter gave him an approving smile. “Nice work,” the Sergeant said. “Guess she’s finally growing on you.”

Crosshair only scowled. The meaningful glance that Tech and Echo shared in the cockpit didn’t escape his notice.

Whatever. They could think what they wanted. Especially if it kept them away from her.

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino

[thecruellestmonth]

Jason Todd 2023 fic recs

Some of the best Jason Todd fics that were posted or updated in the year 2023.

"Beneficiary" by sirsparklepants https://archiveofourown.org/works/44845189 - The beneficiaries of the estate of Jason Todd. Wonderfully bittersweet. A story about "the logistical demands of death" and "the banalities of death and grief".

"The Extremely True Story of the Titans Tower Attack" by Wisetypewriter https://archiveofourown.org/works/45011785 - Red Hood evilly dragged the iron maiden Talia had gifted him in the Titans Tower’s kitchen. He cackled to himself, so deliciously happy to be able to test it on Robin. -- The most "Titans Tower AU" ever of all time. A must-read for anyone who hates or loves fanon.

The Foreigner by somecaveats https://archiveofourown.org/works/44992420 - Jason had played out Bruce’s first words to him again and again, the blame, the disgust, the rejection, and then, sometimes, when he was feeling sentimental, tears and warmth and muttered prayers about the miracle of his return. He had thought he was prepared for anything. --Or; Immediately after the Lazarus Pit, Jason comes back. -- You know those fantasies of Jason returning to the family in a neater and more palatable way? And all his loved ones react so sweetly and supportively and sensitively—as if Jason's own behavior were the singular deciding factor in whether the family is functional and healthy? This isn't that. Or; in which Jason receives a damningly reluctant welcome home, has several ugly ugly panic attacks, and expertly deduces that one of Bruce's Wayne ancestors got it on with John Singer Sargent. [work in progress/incomplete]

"how it feels to be immune" by maangoes https://archiveofourown.org/works/44490682 - He spent a year in a villa in the Hindu Kush. He doesn’t remember most of it. There were people that cleaned and made him food. The whole house smelled like Talia, like rose and jasmine flowers. This is a soothing little vignette, like a calm before a storm. Talia shines in her competence and in her tenderness, while also struggling to make the right choices for Jason's post-resurrection recovery.

whether a beast or a human being by Goldmonger https://archiveofourown.org/series/3417622 - The Red Hood has been recaptured by the Batman and consigned to a private prison, one buried deep beneath Gotham City. The Dark Knight has encountered insane and deadly criminals before, and knows the havoc that can be wreaked from allowing them any kind of freedom. The Red Hood will spend the rest of his life under observation, and will be cared for according to the directives of the Batman. It is unlikely that he will rejoin society, but that is a sacrifice that must be made to protect the citizens of Gotham. Or: "The Wide Sargasso Sea: Jason Todd Edition." Now serendipitously even more relevant after Gotham War! This story contains extreme and unmitigated pain, and severe medical abuse. In the words of the writer: a story "of how even the closest relationship with the most love in the world can fall apart under the right conditions." This is an ongoing/incomplete story, but each installment feels like a satisfying pausing point.

"catch and release" by hellsreluctantheir https://archiveofourown.org/works/50457703 - Dick & Jason hurt/comfort, with POV Dick. In the words of one commenter, this is a sweet story that really appreciates Dick's "constant worrying & planning & trauma and huge sense of responsibility that he’s always got going there" with respect to the ups and downs of his history with Jason.

"Neighbours" by Aingeal98 https://archiveofourown.org/works/40132554 - Bruce loved his son. Bruce was delighted that his son was making new friends. But there was something odd about that family, and no it wasn't just because Cassandra's mother outvoted him at the last PTA meeting, Jason. (That may have played a small part. Sue him, he's human.) PTA AU starring Cass and Shiva, with Jason as a supporting character. A feel-good story with comedy, friendship, family, and tiny pre-teen urban justice crusader Cass as our intrepid hero!

"EURUS" by cowboymater https://archiveofourown.org/works/50555239/chapters/127711369 - "Eurus is a continued interrogation of our own beliefs […] the record seeks to capture the feelings of dark woods, dry branches, dead leaves, and wondering who had migrated — you, or your flock?" OR: Jason Todd, his convictions, his forgiveness, and the cycles of violence and hope (violent hope, sometimes) he may never be free of.

"Ages 12 & Up" by motleyfam https://archiveofourown.org/works/52384984 - See, the real reason that Damian always refuses painkillers is that he cannot swallow a pill. Cute and fun. Damian is a tough little guy, and Jason is an obnoxiously annoying big brother.

"YOU MUST KNOW LIFE TO KNOW DECAY." by orpheusaki @damianbugs https://archiveofourown.org/works/48513616 - For as long as Jason can remember, it's always been raining. Jason's memories of rainy days throughout his life. The rain continues, and so does Jason.

"Get Joker" by chucklesbuckles https://archiveofourown.org/works/49377664 - Harley tries to bond with Jason over their singular shared point of trauma, obsesses over the dead bird's hands, and alienates him by having a platonic hard on for his dad. Jason just wants to make bets over who on their team will bite it first. In which Suicide Squad: Get Joker! is scrapped for parts and melted down. Harley's retrospective on having knowingly loved someone who tortured Barbara Gordon and killed Robin. [POV Harley Quinn.]

"Down to Dust" by Sparkypants https://archiveofourown.org/works/47407291 - It's not the warehouse that Jason has nightmares about. It's Bruce. Bruce deciding to cremate him instead of bury him. Because if he had, what would Jason be now? An infinite number of pieces, cast into the wind. Smoke hanging in the air and never whole or home again, part of him always missing. A spiral of psychological horror, then some hurt/comfort.

"the shadow of violence" by shipyrds https://archiveofourown.org/works/49059019 - Jason shoots someone to protect Damian. Bruce, as usual, has opinions.

"promises" by sunspikes https://archiveofourown.org/series/3413851 - After a nightmarish premonition, young Jason makes Bruce promise not to bury him.

"through death and time" by sparkycap https://archiveofourown.org/works/45733813 - After a mission that takes Batman and Nightwing back twenty years in the past, they end up with time to kill. Bruce does what he does best: he finds a kid. Luckily this one is already his. The fluffiest feel-good fluff available, featuring Bruce & Dick & Jason. Sweeter than WFA.

"The Daughter of the Water" by chucklesbuckles https://archiveofourown.org/works/46605205 - “To walk the world!” it croons, bright gold spilling over it’s cheeks, highlighting the springy white curls crowning it’s head. It bends, cold wet hands cradling Talia’s face, wiping her tears away. It places a soft kiss to her forehead, tucking a loose curl of hair behind her ear, torchlight eyes burning. “Thank you for the body.” The Lazarus Pit takes Jason's body for a long and productive joyride. A creepy and wet story featuring Talia & Jason, with POV Talia.

"Confessional" by Temeritous https://archiveofourown.org/works/45307363 - Jason gets hit with a truth spell and uses it in an inadvisable manner. Ooh, the emotional pain here is exquisite. It's like helplessly watching a glass bottle of olive oil drop and shatter and spill all over the floor.

"Oracle Movie Trailer" by centreoftheselights https://archiveofourown.org/works/47940070 - A screenplay for a trailer for a Oracle: Year One origin movie, featuring Robin II as a supporting character. We love the idea of a movie following Barbara's recovery and journey to becoming Oracle.

Red X by ilovelegendsalot https://archiveofourown.org/series/1211157 - Mostly following the canon events of the Teen Titans cartoon, from the perspective of the second Red X, Jason Todd.

"salt in the wound (and a kiss on my cheek)" by pseudonym123 https://archiveofourown.org/works/52471159/ - A RHATO #25 canon divergence fic where Roy doesn't come to Jason's rescue that night on the rooftop. Bruce and Jason deal with the fall out. [incomplete/work in progress]

[2022]

[mariacallous]

Alexei Navalny returned to Russia in January 2021. Right before he boarded the plane, he posted a film titled “Putin’s Palace: The Story of the World’s Largest Bribe” on YouTube. The video, nearly two hours long, was an extraordinary feat of investigative reporting. Using secret plans, drone footage, 3-D visualizations, and the testimony of construction workers, Navalny’s video told the story of a hideous $1.3 billion Black Sea villa containing every luxury that a dictator could imagine: a hookah bar, a hockey rink, a helipad, a vineyard, an oyster farm, a church. The video also described the eye-watering costs and the financial trickery that had gone into the construction of the palace on behalf of its true owner, Vladimir Putin.

But the power of the film was not just in the pictures, or even in the descriptions of money spent. The power was in the style, the humor, and the Hollywood-level professionalism of the film, much of which was imparted by Navalny himself. This was his extraordinary gift: He could take the dry facts of kleptocracy—the numbers and statistics that usually bog down even the best financial journalists—and make them entertaining. On-screen, he was just an ordinary Russian, sometimes shocked by the scale of the graft, sometimes mocking the bad taste. He seemed real to other ordinary Russians, and he told stories that had relevance to their lives. You have bad roads and poor health care, he told Russians, because they have hockey rinks and hookah bars.

And Russians listened. A poll conducted in Russia a month after the video appeared revealed that one in four Russians had seen it. Another 40 percent had heard about it. It’s safe to guess that in the three years that have elapsed since then, those numbers have risen. To date, that video has been viewed 129 million times.

Navalny is now presumed dead. The Russian prison system has said he collapsed after months of ill health. Perhaps he was murdered more directly, but the details don’t matter: The Russian state killed him. Putin killed him—because of his political success, because of his ability to reach people with the truth, and because of his talent for breaking through the fog of propaganda that now blinds his countrymen, and some of ours as well.

He is also dead because he returned to Russia from exile in 2021, having already been poisoned twice, knowing he would be arrested. By doing so he turned himself from an ordinary Russian into something else: a model of what civic courage can look like, in a country that has very little of it. Not only did he tell the truth, but he wanted to do so inside Russia, where Russians could hear him. This is what I wrote at the time: “If Navalny is showing his countrymen how to be courageous, Putin wants to show them that courage is useless.”

That Putin still feared Navalny was clear in December, when the regime moved him to a distant arctic prison to stop him from communicating with his friends and his family. He had been in touch with many people; I have seen some of his prison messages, sent secretly via lawyers, policemen, and guards, just as Gulag prisoners once sent messages in Stalin’s Soviet Union. He remained the spirit behind the Anti-Corruption Foundation, a team of Russian exiles who continue to investigate Russian corruption and tell the truth to Russians, even from abroad. (I have served on the foundation’s advisory board.) Earlier this week, before his alleged collapse, he sent a Valentine’s Day message to his wife, Yulia, on Telegram: “I feel that you are there every second, and I love you more and more.”

Navalny’s decision to return to Russia and go to jail inspired respect even among people who didn’t like him, didn’t agree with him, or found fault with him. He was also a model for other dissidents in other violent autocracies around the world. Only minutes after his death was announced, I spoke with Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, the Belarusian opposition leader. “We are worried for our people too,” she told me. If Putin can kill Navalny with impunity, then dictators elsewhere might feel empowered to kill other brave people.

The enormous contrast between Navalny’s civic courage and the corruption of Putin’s regime will remain. Putin is fighting a bloody, lawless, unnecessary war, in which hundreds of thousands of ordinary Russians have been killed or wounded, for no reason other than to serve his own egotistical vision. He is running a cowardly, micromanaged reelection campaign, one in which all real opponents are eliminated and the only candidate who gets airtime is himself. Instead of facing real questions or challenges, he meets tame propagandists such as Tucker Carlson, to whom he offers nothing more than lengthy, circular, and completely false versions of history.

Even behind bars Navalny was a real threat to Putin, because he was living proof that courage is possible, that truth exists, that Russia could be a different kind of country. For a dictator who survives thanks to lies and violence, that kind of challenge was intolerable. Now Putin will be forced to fight against Navalny’s memory, and that is a battle he will never win.

[simplyreveries]

hi, it's nice to find a TWST blog with creative and personal writing. Normally the blogs I come across follow some kind of embarrassing rule in all their fics.

with the characters malleus, rook, silver and jade. with a gn reader who somehow gets enough money, and what he wants to do is go get new experiences, like adventures, and live a life in peace since he doesn't believe he will return to his original world (I guess here grim maybe exists but is not relevant to the plot). and the reader has friends and all that, but he is not satisfied with all that about the overblots and the director. so reader decides that he is going to live his life however he wants.

I hope this request seems comfortable to you. and have a nice day.

wanting to leave and explore; malleus, rook, silver, and jade

thank you<33

malleus draconia

when you had confessed and told malleus, opening up a bit to him during one of your nightly conversations with each other he was intrigued and quite surprised. he’s curious as to knowing the reason more to behind your decisions. he inquires if it's because of crowleys unhelpfulness and avoidance of seeking much of an answer to your situation.

he’ll likes the spark of adventure seeking in you. he realizes how different and so much new of an experience twisted wonderland may be in comparison to your original home and world. he’ll tell you a lot about what he knows, mostly of briar valley— because even malleus himself still has a lot to learn despite being centuries old. but he may tell you about lilias travels as well and what he's heard from him— and he believes that you’ll learn to love it.

malleus wants to be someone that can support you, even though you've found a way to provide a lot for yourself- he’s really willing to give a lot to someone like you that has randomly appeared in his life and now holds a really special place in his heart. I mean, once you're ready to go explore why not start in his home kingdom? you’ll receive the best treatment he has to offer his favorite human.

rook hunt

oh? he finds your sense of adventure and desire to just explore twisted wonderland quite fascinating. he’ll tell you all about the beauty twisted wonderland has to offer, that it should be something to be excited about to learn all about and see. rook will also tell you about his family's villas that they own all around twisted wonderland! and though you seem well prepared yourself you're welcome to have a place to be.

if you can, he would love to hear and know about everything you see and learned— he's always interested in knowing more about the beauty of the world around him so considered him highly curious.

rook feels disheartened when he hears about your own disappointment and dejection about not being able to find a way home-! he had always personally admired and was ever so intrigued by your own story and predicament you've found yourself into. he’ll give you some words of encouragement.

silver

he seems to be pretty worried about you and your well-being. though he does have a sense of some understanding of what you must be feeling with the situation you're in he does know some of the danger twisted wonderland entails- you must know too, after experiencing what a crazy and dangerous thing overblots are… his own protective instincts come out wanting to make sure you fully know what you're getting into when adventuring about this world.

if you're dead set on your decision and know what you're doing from now on here in twisted wonderland- like malleus, he’d recommend you come by briar valley. he feels a bit upset for you because of your unfortunate situation regarding your home world, though there is a hope of meeting someone who can help you when exploring.

silver only wishes for what's best for you. and he understands how rough twisted wonderland in itself can be, but if you feel like that's what you need to do then as long as you are content. silver will give you some advice to help you, various books too so you have some knowledge on things you may run into.

jade leech

he tilts his head and peers at you curiously when you tell him about your ideas. he’s a little intrigued on how exactly you were able to sustain yourself and provide abundance of madol in such a period of time and especially since you're so new to how this world still works. he can't help but wonder and suggest playfully if you've made some deal with azul about it.

jade will hear you out on your issues concerning getting back to your original world and nods, he shakes his head and laughs knowing how crowley is… he isn't surprised that man hasn't been able to do really anything regarding your world and helping you get back. it truly is a pity.

nevertheless, jade does understand the sheer desire to explore this land, as he's only accustomed to life in the oceans, he dedicates a lot of his time to studying and taking care of various plants and fungi on land. and hey, he’ll even point out and tell you which types you should be on the lookout for when travelling.

[lephamquynhnhu]

Panacea

Chapter 7 (End): Beyond the Promised Sky

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC, mentioned blood, violence. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: 3k4

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: For the first line, I express my special thanks to Dr.Lecter in the Hannibal series for being a valuable reference in this chapter. Secondly, I am glad I finished Panacea at another crucial moment since I got an offer letter as a Villa host in a five-star resort. Finally, thank you for following this fanfic.

Do you like...depression?

From the pitch-dark space emerged a pair of brunette eyes dotted with a brightened yellow hue. The monster stinks like grave soil and corpses, causing a death emanation marries with a cunning aura that gives off those pupils, making cold sweat cascade along his spine like a dewdrop.

"I can smell your fear, little dragon." - The prison starts when his whole body comes to light. A gigantic embodiment with six raven wings, limbs full of sharp claws like cathedral spears, and scales on his torso play as invincible armor.

"I am not afraid of you." - Dan Feng calmly places the document on the table and settles his seat, staring back with his bleak green eyes. By guaranteeing the current heart pulse is eighty per second, Imbibitor Lunae ascertains that his condition matches the requirements.

"I didn't claim that; instead, you fear losing someone." - "The scent of Mimosa accompanied by Stephania for a tranquilizer and mistletoe plus Datura metel for the patient with epilepsy. Besides, I can sniff a vague blood smell on your sleeves. You must be absolutely desperate to wield the traditional approach to lengthen their lifespan when Cloudhymm is powerless." - The monster sniggers, his sinister smile spreading unto the earlobes to unravel abnormal canines. Primus Immortus may be evil, yet he is still an excellent apothecary with sensitive olfaction. Therefore, he can detect advantageous traces. However, Dan Feng remains silent with decorum, and his stern expression behind the cell is unreadable.

On the other hand, Primus Immortus is pleased with the end of his filthy soul because he has never drunk anything sublime like the sorrow of the High Cloud quintet. His nutrition is savoring people's misery. Like a hound, Immortus can sniff woes from the High Elder's irises handily obscured beneath the solemn mantle. He would like to play around the bush and pull more strings, yet his other side stops him punctually to secure the plan he is brewing. Primus Immortus decides to cooperate and comply with Dan Feng's testimony in exchange for the spanking sip he took because he knows he is the controller.

After the chaotic occurrence, Dan Feng received a poem that followed him via a micrometer of the security door. Echoing every corner of the shadowy corridor is a sarcastic treble.

"Amaranthine dawn shines through

Blushing clouds,

O willow-silk rain,

Blasting confederate roses."

The Long Scion exasperatedly slams the document on the table, and his chair shrieks in displeased noise as he takes the seat. Dan Feng has long forgotten the last time he was infuriated like this, and those cursed eyes keep haunting his mind when he is writing the report. That doomed prison was manipulating his emotions like a puppet while Dan Feng received a dump of garbage. Nonetheless, the topic Immortus mentioned hitting at Imbibor Lunae's bullseye just by a whiff nay, he hates to admit that Primus Immortus was right. He is hopeless.

After a couple of weeks, your condition has increased to a critical point, and the current treatment barely satisfies his purpose. Your aging process arises tremendously combined with Alzheimer and age-related macular degeneration. Moreover, you are even incapable of changing clothes or doing daily tasks, and the epilepsy is now unable to be depressed. The scenario of withered begonia beside your dressing table compared with your aging complexion beneath the pale moonlight. Those things lead him to a dead end.

The black ink spreads bolder and bolder, contrasting with underneath white papers as the High Elder immersed in wandering thought, then a pair of brunette irises with a light amber hue reappears and blends into the hollow void until his brush pan breaks in half as a token to snap him back to reality. In the dim light of his office, a sliver of thin incense smoke undulates around the space and tenderly swirls at his untouched document with a parallel line "North obligation. Absolute death is reverse." Imbibitor Lunae leaves a heavy sigh to review the conversation between him and Dan Shu at the medicine library. She handed the High Elder an ancient scroll of practicing black arts - an approach to ascend Zhen Ren, a higher being that can reach Nirvana to obtain an elixir without concocting.

"How do you...know?" - He clenched his sleeve, hiding his astonishment behind the limitless bookshelves while Dan Shu feigned to browse her file along the Braille, her snowy skin tone fingertips kissed book spines like a scanner as she relied.

"We handicapped always have other summit senses when losing another. Thus, I am able to read your energy. It is turbulent as an abyssal despair. You are going to lose someone, and you can't do anything. The search statistic of Liberian shows that you are trying to look for a unique recipe even though you attempted to deceive the system."

She stopped her line and pulled out a large book covered with leather and golden letters. "Your aura reminds me of my old wound, so I decided to help you. However, this is as far as I could help, and may good fortune always find your journey. " - Dan Shu then left like the wind.

On the last day of Primus Immortus, he probably is sick of the testimony questions and does not cooperate with Dan Feng anymore. Instead, he suggests a quid-pro-quo to gain "dignified" answers that Imbibitor Lunae accepts abruptly. Behind the ironic bars, Immortus seems to enjoy every moment of this trade-off game since his raven swings shaking and massive claws rake at the tense atmosphere when he listens to Dan Feng's childhood.

"What a tragic fate." - Primus Immortus monologues and eyes the opposite person - "Growing up with the destined mission and carrying the name of the High Elder through countless ages. Building up and bringing out the name of the High-Cloud quintet to this cosmos, plus witnessing its fall. But alas, you will eventually lose the one who sees you as Dan Feng."

"Does she remember your name? How does it feel when you kiss her?" - The monster adjusts his volume as the Long Scion is still busy scribbling his precedent answers, and the vibe changes rapidly. Cyan orbs sparkling like a torch illuminate all features of his countenance, a warning to remind Immortus has crossed the line because the marshall or a judge might hear their little play-game. Nonetheless, he is pleased with Dan Feng's reaction as his saliva rolls down and drops to the ground. Moreover, if there were not Celest Gold restraining his swings, people could hear the sound of swings behind the cell. Primus Immortus vigilantly stares back to watch how deep his string roots at the High Elder's soul.

"I have the last needed element to aid you in achieving your wish, Little Dragon. It will grant you the primal power equals Permanence." - He lowers his voice with vicious eyes glowing under the dark bangs and awaits the crackling spirit. Conversely, Imbibitor Lunae closes his tabs and readily leaves the cell, indicating that his heart is as solid as Marmorean. Looking at Dan Feng's retreating figure blending into the corridor, the monster reveals his last trump card:

"What if I said Zhen Ren could drink up the four seas?"

To Primus Immortus' expectation, the High Elder's footstep gives a halt as his heart pulse is immovable for a millisecond when hearing that sentence. He knows love affairs may not be enough to convince Imbibitor's fall, yet it will make a difference with the topic of compatriot.

Saving the Vidyadhara race is a proper reason to unlock the black arts.

However, Dan Feng merely breathes out and marches toward the security door without a glance, leaving behind his resonating footsteps from afar.

"How wick." - a familiar metallic voice reverberates at the unfathomable depth of the Premilinary Prison as Primus Immortus amuses himself without looking up at the frontal man. His white chignon is tied hard by a Dalbergia hairpin and remains motionless like a marble monument while a scarlet pupil glows amidst unstable light. Although half of his face emerges in the pitch-black dark, no one is unaware of his position.

Yinxing from the High-Cloud Quintet demanded an informal appointment with Primus Immortus.

He slowly detaches an electronic bug at the table's edge and smashes his hand-made device into dust: "What is in exchange for your 'last element'?"

The monster looks excited as hearing another member of the legendary team exploit his secret. A group of esteemed figures created illustrious feats and miracles for everyone but themselves, so their misery is holly nectar to Immortus, and occurrences are flowing as his scheme. The ivory canines spread across his twisted face when he speaks.

"What a pity. You are ineligible to operate 'that thing' properly. Only a descendant with a divine bloodline grants the privilege of touching it, and I already have had my things. However, if you successfully convince Little Dragon, you both may attain your joint target."  

Just as Primus Immortus expected, Yinxing's mind wavers like a dribble of water to cause a micro crackle in his spirit, and a triumphant smile stretches on his maniacal face. After the blink of an eye, everything is upside down as the blurring surroundings are confused into another timeline. Standing beside him are the rest of the High-Cloud Quintet, and Yinxing could say they are different yet the same people simultaneously. They wear unusual uniforms while idly chattering about ordinary topics under the cement ground with crowded transportation. To Yinxing, this scene seems peaceful, a surreal life that is too good to be true. As a result, he swings his sword to tear the unfolding illusion, but a flow of smoke lingers at his blade.

The girl who shares Bai Heng features said they nestle in the body of an Outer God, and she is the Paradox Guardian - named Dao Zhen - a doppelganger of Bai Heng from the other world. She exposes that this timeline used to exist but was erased because the history selected and ramified. Immortus possesses a kind of mystic eyes playing the role of an alien door leading to another Dimension by hypnotizing Yinxing and extracting a fragment of his conscience into an Outer God's body.

"If you stay with me permanently, we can live in any possible context." - She whispers beside Yinxing's earlobe and intertwines her fingers - "You love this face, don't you?'' - A cold exhale sweeps through as Dao Zhen grazes her nose against his collar, she tries to orientate him to become a second Guardian; as for Yinxing perspective, he finds it is a dilemma yet he decides to bare the sword to clarify his decision.

"Fight me if you dare! I will resurrect her and rebuild the High-Cloud Quintet. Not living in your cheap illusion arts." - He conceded Dan Feng in testimony privilege since he has never been into mundane activities in prison. Hence, Yinxing vaguely learned his unpublished situation. They can become an antagonist duo like Primus Immortus suggested.

The blade slashes Dao Zhen's afterimage and causes a space-shifting while his sword tip points at her and eventually claims his victory after an intense battle. Yinxing sees Dao Zhen vomit a wooden box and turns into black mud flowing toward his heels.

Abruptly, a recognizable ceiling of a clinic appears in front of his eyesight while gripping an exquisite carving box.

Light still shines brightly at the Artisanship Commission despite the darkness covering the sky in a black mantle because there will be a massive parade to welcome a new Yaoqing general called Feixiao. The former presider was assassinated when he traveled with his wife in a hot spring, but Her Ladyship is missing. Many rumors vine around and wander in their vicinity, yet Feixiao apropos quenched and controlled them.

Listing ordnance, checking the quality of gunpowder, and solidifying human resources remain coursing vibrantly before the kick-off event. People even could hear the sledgehammer of blacksmiths from afar.

Meanwhile, Yinxing and Dan Feng are discreetly confronting each other at the Fyxestroll Garden.

"You don't wish the High-Cloud Quintet to return to its renaissance?" - his reprimanded voice arouses the placid serenity between them since Imbibitor Lunae selected another path.

"It is a part of history, and we must respect the past. Stop striving to rewrite it like a moth to a flame because death cannot resurrect. Seeking immortality is illegal." - the Long Scion intends to turn his back and march forth, yet his heels halt when Yinxing reveals his buried secret.

"Although the Yaoqing has forfeited their wanted poster, they will pay seven trillion credits for Bai Lin's head, plus executioners will continuously send out to chase her to every galaxy corner. Furthermore, Feixiao is also here."

"I don't know what are you... " - an explosion swiftly roars through the inky sky from the Artisanship Commission, interrupting Dan Feng's sentence. A red-orange hue burns radiantly at a corner, and charcoal fumes flare up violently. Neither do they present punctually, nor do they put out the fire with ordinary water. The oil and gas will aggravate the situation; in addition to this plight, numerous Vidyadhara people assemble crowdedly for the parade - the last straw of limit breakthrough.  

"Zhen Ren can drink up the four seas." - the High Elder stares at the Paradox box in his hand while Yinxing repeats an accustomed clause.

They are standing at the center of an invisible hexagon made from six Suppression Towers and ready to practice black arts. Inside the Paradox box is a pair of Mystic Eyes of a deceased Abundance Emanator, which is eligible to open the Supremacy Boundary to ascend the Long Scion and become a higher being. The left eye is a mirror to look through the past, and the right one is the key to unlocking the pruning future. To rewrite reality and unleash that power, they need to feed it with all heliobi in the Suppression Towers.

Dan Feng and Yinxing should have succeeded if they had complied with the Five Element Order.

"North obligation. Absolute death is reverse."

The hexagon's apex must face northward, yet they did not notice the line in Dan Feng's ancient scroll that led to a retrorse geometry against the feng shui order, causing the Grand Calamity to befall Loufu. The supposed door turned into a mirror that reflects the Backside of this world, drawing fantastic monsters to come through. Thousands of mythological creatures, demonic monsters, even Abundance abominations belligerent and wild beasts with Evil Dragons acting as their leader, descended upon Xianzhou, and the mirror is like a black hole hanging over the firmament with lethal levin.

On that day, no one dares to reminisce or talk about that appalling scene, and nobody records the precise duration of the catastrophe. They only remember the death toll with injured victims was unbearable, thousands of missing people. On top of that, the monsters' blood caused acid rain, melting agricultural fields and paralyzing their trading traffic, which caused all economic activities to stagnate. To mobilize all resources, Jing Yuan procrastinated the Ten-Lords Commission's warrant and approved the duel culprits Yinxing - Dan Feng temporarily attending Luofu's frontier. Additionally, he requested military assistance from other Xianzhou ships to block the Backside mirror.

"I have another personal affair to do. Please, leave me three hours, then I will present before the judges." Imbibitor Lunae grits his teeth to press each word as if gathering the last ounce of his strength to prevent crumbling.

Under the lonesome Exalting Sanctum's ruin, Hanya and Xueyi only stay still amidst the sound of silence.

Until the Long Scion intends to throw away his pride and kneels before two sisters, they timely stop him and accept his favor. As a result, the twisted fate between you two is going to its epilogue.

A feather noise accidentally wakes you up from your slumber, which is followed by a soft fabric rustle. You attempt to mouth your words, but none of the names lingers in your mind, and the fragileness sounds weaker than you expected. All your vital energy seemingly ebbs away as you watch inky shadow prints on the wall. Dan Feng's countenance quickly shifts from concern to rest assured as a dissipating cloud when he sees you are safe and sound after the turmoil (Maybe the forest's mythopedia is true). You wonder why he acts so weirdly as rushing to capture your wilt frame into his embrace, and the nose bridge presses against your nap coldly while Dan Feng's hot breath fans over your baby hair unstably. Although you no longer recognize this man, a comfortable warmth radiating from him is half acquainted, half foreign, and you realize the High Elder is quivering.

His clothed back soaks with sweat as your hand brushes the long locks, fingertips gently touching the fancy fabric pattern. A short-lived memory enlightens your foggy mind after a few stroking, bringing back a feeble sunray in your opaque irises.

"Ah...I remember who you are. Dan Feng, isn't it? It looks like I just woke up from a long dream." - He does not answer or proceed to any conversation, or in other words, his throat is stuck with a fiery lump, just inhaling the mild white tea fragrance in your hair as though mesmerizing it into his soul.

"I want to watch the dawn with you." - Your respiratory is getting weaker and unstable when resting your head against his firm chest.

"Can we wait until you get better?" - Dan Feng contemplates the gray sky beyond your window as a flock of birds flies across the hermitical horizon. However, he quickly surrenders your stubbornness afterward. The High Elder carries you towards the usual spot - an eminence used to sightseeing in your pasture.

The coziness from his exhale thawing the thin frost on your senile face wakes you up from a short nap. The purplish canvas tinge with a rosy hue and pastel orange color while dewy grass dances in morning winds, you two quietly await the rising sun. Your eyes shimmer in amazement when seeing old comrades standing afar and wavering hands toward your side. The sun shines around them like crowning a laurel halo.

"It...is impossible. Regardless of your wraith, I am happy to see you guys again." - You mutter under your breath as Irene wags her wedding bouquet, and Huang Yuan offers his hand to you while Pumpkin shakes his tail.

Nevertheless, your jubilance does not last long after a blink of an eye when the surroundings disappear into voidness, rendering your sightless eyes in which you do not feel any regrets backlog in your heart.

"Why do you look so sad, Feng?" - Your wilt hands full of freckles like a root trace his features to sense his sentiment.

"No, I am just..." - your hopeless motion abruptly intercepts the Long Scion's half-baked lie as you draw closer to give him one last kiss - "I couldn't wait for the next Autumn..." - However, you never get a chance to complete the line because your soul leaving even faster and the kiss forever falling on his shoulder.

Dan Feng dumbfoundedly gazes at the dazzling dawn and needs several seconds to process what is happening.

He desperately calls your name to wake you up but does not receive any response. Like a madman, Imbibitor Lunae carries your limp body toward the hydrangea garden and finally collapses from exhaustion. Amidst the sea of shriveling flowers, a useless person cradles his lover in anguish while the browny flower balls waver in soft breezes.

"Somebody....Somebody please save my Bai Lin!"

But alas, only the cricket chirping and leaves rustling sing your requiem. The sky is getting brighter, plus cotton clouds nonchalantly trekking across a pair of emerald orbs, and it is not raining. But why does water keep cascading on his face? Why can he not save his loved one even though he committed Ten Unpardonable Sins? Individuals often pray to them to be endowed with grace, but whom will he pray to?

After your death, the man who sees the world possesses an unparalleled power to traverse clouds and bestow rain, shaping forms as the world's of essence beckon, has already decided his fate. If he can not save you, Dan Feng will die with you.

Endnote: Alright! Who dies next? Gepard or Argenti?

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #503 - "Home Is Where The Laser Core Is"

Originally posted on June 16th, 2010

Story - Juan Pablo Osorio Art - Oscar Choquecota Letters - Franco Villa Edits - Zac DeBoard Diaclone designs - Benjamin Galley

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005 | BotTalk

Later revised and annotated for Transformers: The Lost Seasons

wada sez: The first of three strips written to bring a Transformers Animated character into Sunbow continuity; I've bumped up the other two, which were originally posted not long after, for a better reading experience. Bulkhead’s group here has a mixture of origins, as explained in the comments on deviantART, but includes a couple of Diaclone bots, who were slightly redesigned by Galley for the sake of variety. The blue bot is actually a Brazilian character, Camaro, who was renamed "Sprint" after Windcharger's preliminary name. In the final panel, the bots present are the main cast of Animated, and to cement the homage Ratchet is seen fixing his forehead chevron, a cheeky reference inserted by Choquecota. Bulkhead’s original design was done by Choquecota, and Osorio wrote the whole story based on it; later, Osorio would create a separate character model for Bulkhead along similar lines for The Lost Seasons, which was widely shared online and seems very likely to have inspired the later official release of the G1-style Legacy Bulkhead. See below for all of this relevant artwork.

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume! there was too much spotlight on kat vs. uma, eddie trying to be relevant, and the guys going on a date with sienna (??) the screen time that all of this nonsense took up could’ve been allocated to actually spending time with our endgame LI

first up, we have the talent show 💤 i know everybody was saying they didn’t want it to be like the S4 musical episode, but honestly i would’ve preferred that 😭 (don’t get me wrong, it’s the bane of my S4 replay existence, i just think the newer seasons desperately need character developing moments/islander interactions that aren’t boring in a clearly AI written way) dog ears hamish is adorable tho

i kinda wish we could keep the epaulettes as an accessory because my girl ateeeee . utena tenjou realness (& it would make up for the fact that MC choosing her talent was a last minute cash grab lol)

i wish FB would stop having the Lovebomber LI do grand gestures when you’re not coupled up with them. at the very least let us choose who does the gesture, i picked the shower scene with zeph just to avoid chen and he still did a gesture for MC 🫠 the second hand embarrassment is unbearable

in what universe is suresh the fan favourite ?😭 i don’t think there’s a single boy that’s likeable in s5, but finn would be the best of a bad bunch

the whole thing with sienna was just a bad attempt at last minute drama (i can’t believe angie is apparently friends with her, that’s definitely out of character but moving on…)

the final recoupling ! the speech was underwhelming ngl but im finally with my girllll

this season certainly has the coding of all time ! 😃

i saw that kat and her partner can get dumped, and unfortunately for me she’s still here (same thing happened last season with sienna) WLW playthroughs are already torture enough ! 😐 the final couples are tasia/natasha, kelly/zeph, uma/hamish, and kat/jude

i thought eddie was supposed to expose MC but he didn’t, and he just got booted from the villa so…whatever (maybe he’ll try at the after party, if there is one)

next up is the last volume! i hope this season doesn’t have a reunion, they need to pull the plug here

[writing-with-gremworm]

The Winter Duke

Notes:

Mentions of/implied abuse

Unhealthy relationship dynamic

Obsessive behavior

Yandere!Wriothesley

A little slow to start

The Duke of the North is a terrifying and cold figure. He is said to have slaughtered thousands and abandoned many to the monsters plaguing the snows. So it came as a surprise to you when he seemed like an ordinary guy during your first conversation.

"You must be (Y/N). I'm sorry you had to come here on such short notice, but I can assure you that this arranged marriage will not be permanent." The cold Duke states, motioning for me to sit down, "In the meantime, we have much to discuss. I don't expect your help for free."

"Ah, yes, that is only fair." Your voice quivers slightly. You were surprised he offered you such a deal. Generally speaking, you were seen as useless given what your power was. You had an affinity for minor mimicry. This meant you could make ice cubes after someone made a glacier, or a glass of water after someone made it rain. The power itself was weak, so it was dismissed. Especially since you came from a long line of saints. The (L/N) family were known as some of the greatest healers. Though how that healing was developed was a family secret and one that made you want to throw up when you thought about it. Your skin itches a bit at the thought.

"First, allow me to make a proper introduction. My name is Wriothesley, the Duke of North Fontaine."

"You've already gathered my name ... um, Rizzley."

"Wriothesley."

"Rizzley, what exactly do you expect of me? I know you seek the (L/N) name because of its ties to previous saints, do you seek a healer? If so, I can not help you." You state simply, looking at Wriothesley with a shakey gaze. Your heart was racing, he was said to be the coldest man in the empire, how could you not shiver?

"No, I already know you're the black sheep of your family. What I seek is your ability to move freely. I am confined to this place, as such, I need eyes. One who is as, and forgive me for this, generic as you will go unnoticed." You wince a bit and sigh. You were glad he wasn't going to kiss up to you because of your title, but it still stung to be told so blatantly you were boring.

"No, that's a fair assessment." You smile, Wriothesley's lips flatten more, but you don't notice, "But why can't you just leave? I know the social world has cast you in a ... less than positive light ... but you're not trapped here are you?"

"We'll discuss that when it becomes relevant. For now, just know I can not leave the North."

"... Cryptic. But okay. So, what will you offer me?" You swallow, looking at him with feigned courage. Your heart beat so quickly it felt like a hammer was bashing against the burdensome ribcage acting as a wall.

"If you help me, I will help you. This means you can ask for anything. A villa, money, even fame." Was he serious? You couldn't sense any change in tone, and he didn't put on a fake smile like your father did when he wanted something. Maybe you wanted to believe him. Maybe you should.

"Money ... sounds reasonable." You start, taking a shallow breath before continuing, "But you'll have to compensate me appropriately. Let's write a contract detailing what you want from me and what you think it's worth. I'll adjust it as needed to fit my conditions."

"... Alright. I can do that. Louis, escort Mx. (L/N) to their room." Wriothesley looks to his attendant and gestures toward me.

"Of course, Your Grace." Louis states with a polite smile, "Come with me Mx. (L/N)."

-- After the door closes Wriothesley smiles a bit before quickly covering his mouth.

"They're even better in person ... Ah, I hope you stay for a very long time (Y/N)" Wriothesley mutters to himself.

In truth, Wriothesley has been watching them for a long time. Fleur, his assistant, helped curate rumors to make the (L/N) family give in to his wishes. --

Louis opens the door to your room and you're surprised by its grandeur. It's a stark contrast to the attic you'd lived in before this. In the (L/N) family you aren't permitted to live in the second-floor rooms until you've awaked holy power. As you did not awaken said power, you were forced to remain in the attic. This attic was designed to test the limits of your body to encourage the propagation of holy power. Though, no matter how much you were tested, not a speck of holy light flowed through your fingertips.

Laying on the fluffy bed you close your eyes. If your bed had been like this, would you have been less tired? You don't know, but you can feel the exhaustion setting in. The distance between the Duke's estate and your own was several weeks without a magic portal. Given the prowess of both families, you only had to spend a few days on the road. The trip was still unpleasant. As part of the (L/N) tradition, you had to ride in the most frugal of carriages and fast daily.

"I'm scared." You admit, hugging your pillow tightly as your heartbeat lulls you to sleep. The familiar racing pace creates a frame to justify rest. After all, you already knew the pattern, it was too tiresome to punish someone half asleep, they never seemed to remember properly.

--

"So this is all?" You look at the contract, surprised it is so short.

"Yes, that is all. It is simple and to the point. I'm quite certain you'll be happy with the terms." Wriothesley states simply, leaning onto his hand as he glances over you. His silver eyes seem to pierce through you. You avert your gaze and quickly read the contract.

"So you wish for me to be your face?" This was troublesome. Your face in the social world was not well known, but your name was the current gossip of high society. Would you really be okay if you became his face? Surely Wriothesley, someone of Ducal status, already knew this. So why?

"That's ... one way to phrase it. Yes, as stated there, you'll be taking my place in socials and surveying the territory while I am still bound to my place." Wriothesley's expression shifts slightly, a hint of annoyance clouding his eyes before his gaze returns to a neutral state. You flinch without realizing it, it would be too much to ask him more now. It was safer to accept this.

"This ... is too much Mora. Besides, this contract doesn't detail the marriage aspect. I thought that was part of this." This much was reasonable, it didn't make you seem weak, and you could still get more information.

"The marriage is set to last until I'm no longer stuck in this place. I will write that down if you need."

"... Alright. I didn't realize you were the forgetful type. I thought that was my role." You write down that and alter the amount of Mora you'll receive before handing the document back to Wriothesley. You swear he smiles a little when you pass it over.

"Well, now that the contract is settled, I'll have Louis fill you in on your first task."

"Right, right, you're probably busy since you still have to do all of the paperwork." You nod and look over to Louis who has the same polite smile as yesterday. Besides, this was a great excuse to leave the room.

-- "Fleur, I have a task for you. Can you do some research into the secrets of the (L/N) family? Ah, and look into Transfer Relics." Wriothesley had a feeling his reports were missing something, while he liked this malleable version of (Y/N), they seemed different from what he'd been told.

"Transfer Relics- but aren't those only effective at moving curses?"

"Exactly." Fleur knew what that meant. She thought (Y/N) was fragile, a glass bird riddled with imperfections. Maybe that is why Wriothesley had taken an interest in them.

"... Understood, Your Grace." Fleur was sure now, Wriothesley's interest in (Y/N) would act as their cage, and she had no intention of saving them. At least in a cage, the glass might not break. --

"Eh? Wait, I have to attend the Royal Assembly? I guess that's why this marriage was so rushed." You mutter. You swallow nervously and place a hand to your chin. Your eyes dart to the nearest vase so you look preoccupied with thought.

"That is correct Mx. The Duke's family was required to go this time, however, as you can see, only Wriothesley remains of the main bloodline and until you, he had no spouse."

"Ah ... because of the rumors right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Louis pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes, "Ah, forgive me, I'm a little emotional. It's been so long since Wriothesley had someone to call family, however temporary this is." Something about the way he said it made you feel a little bad.

But, this was temporary, and you all knew that. Though, staying here for a while doesn't seem like a bad thing. At least you get to eat multiple times a day instead of just once. Your bed was soft too, it felt much warmer than the firm attic one at the (L/N) residence.

--

Attending Empress Furina's Assembly is something you never expected to do. Your oldest sister and father attended regularly, but you were never qualified to attend. Even now, you were taking Wriothesley's place, so it felt like you didn't belong. You may have accepted it with open arms, but the doubts you had were so loud. They screamed at you, tearing at your hair and reminding you of what happens when you don't listen.

You make it to the assembly room before your mind traps you in the background. You hear your name announced, but you can't even move your lips.

You try to step out of your head, but something drags you back in. The tendrils of cold and hot wrap around your body and remind you of the torn flesh and the inability to breathe. You try to scream, but nothing comes out. You try to look around, but the only colours surrounding you are black and red. They cover your vision and the red creeps outward. You finally move your hands, only to see them covered in a deep crimson that has started to flake.

"Mx. Are you alright?" A cool voice cuts through the screaming silence.

"A-Ah ..." Your mouth opens, but only weak sounds escape it.

"My liege, I'll escort this guest to a rest chamber, please continue the tea ceremony without us." The man with silver hair tells Empress Furina calmly. The blue streaks reminded you of the water, or maybe of a dragon's horns. Your eyes widen when you realize who is escorting you away from the Royal Assembly.

"Justice Neuvillette ... You need not have left to escort me ... but I ... thank you. I am in no place to berate you for attending to my needs. That would be rude." Your throat hurts, but at least the words seem to sound normal, maybe no one would be able to tell you'd just frozen up. Unfortunately, your legs and hands were shaking noticeably, so it was clear you shouldn't be left alone. The red still faintly overlaid your fingers, it made you want to puke.

You look at your hand and notice Neuvillette holding it. Maybe he thought you wouldn't be able to follow along without guidance. It was sweet in its own right. Neuvillette, too, had a reputation that preceded him so this gentle side was new. Maybe that difference made you feel a sense of calm.

"Think nothing of it. I simply wanted to help my friend's spouse." Neuvillette dismisses it with amusement colouring his words.

"Did you two bond over scary reputations-" You start before covering your mouth with your free hand. Why did your tongue move so freely with this man?

"No, though said rumors are one thing we seem to have in common. If that were a tell, then you'd be my friend too, no?"

"Huh? But I- don't have much of a reputation, do I? As the black sheep maybe, but nothing more."

"Ah, I suppose you're not aware of the other rumors. Then pay me no mind, if such things have not tainted your ears, it is better to leave it here." Neuvillette states, clearing his throat and opening the door for you to step inside the resting area. You furrow your brow.

"But if it is about me, then shouldn't I be aware?"

"Some things are better left unknown. Though, if you wish to know, I will ask you something first. Why weren't your sister and Father with us at the assembly Today?" You look surprised. You hadn't had time to register anyone's faces, just the flood of anxiety that threatened to eat you alive.

"I ..." You start, but you realize quickly your answer wouldn't have made sense. You could have suggested they were both ill or otherwise wished to avoid you, but in public, they always pretended to adore you and they were healers who had excellent natural constitutions, "Someone prevented them from being here today."

"... In a sense, they were prevented from being able to attend," Neuvillette confirms, though his phrasing concerns you a bit.

"I ... see. What does this have to do with the rumors?" You ask pointedly.

"They imply that you're the person who ... barred the attendance of your family." Neuvillette pauses in the middle, clearly thinking about something else before deciding on this phrasing.

"But it doesn't make sense for them to avoid me ..."

"Regardless, you should take a seat and breathe. I'll return to the assembly if you do not wish for me to stay."

"I'll be fine. Thank you." You say certain that you could find your way back when you were sure you were okay.

--

"Fleur, you've done exceptionally this time. The (L/N) family was keeping this sort of thing, hm? Well, I suppose as a family of healers, it's only right they once held something so precious." Wriothesley smiles, his lips forming a tight curve as he holds a glowing sphere.

"Your Grace, this has caused rumors to spread about your spouse. Should I handle those?"

"... No, rather, we should use them to our advantage, no?" Rumors are what brought them here, so rumors would bring them closer.

"Understood."

--

"I apologize for earlier, your highness." You bow before Furina once you get a chance to speak with her.

"Hm, well I suppose you should. It's only right." Furina starts before Neuvillette clears his throat quietly, "Ahem, I graciously accept your apology! But to make up for this transgression, you must attend my next Tea Party!" Furina insists, throwing her hand out to point at me. You blink, a little surprised this is the only reprimand someone of her stature is giving you.

In the (L/N) household you had to isolate and pray for several days for your wrongs, especially with something of this caliber. Your knees start to tense up, and your calves pulse with phantom pain at the thought of it. You notice Furina's gaze and realize you haven't responded.

"Oh- yes, of course, Your Highness." You promptly reply with a polite smile. Neuvillette notices something in your demeanor that concerns him. Perhaps, he thought, Wriothesley's words were correct.

--

Wriothesley was displeased when he heard (Y/N) was invited back to the palace. He was well aware of why, (Y/N) was his spouse, so they should stay nearer to him, but it wasn't time to let them see that side of him. After all, wouldn't they run away? There were moments, little flickers of their gaze, a slight alteration in the way they breathed, a change in stance, or even something they forgot in their routine that told him they were afraid of something, but their smile remained.

He recognized that smile, it was something he had grown tired of using. The mask to deter those who would pray on sorrow. It was the mask someone deeply hurt would use. It was the reason he'd orchestrated the death of the (L/N) family.

"They need me. They need my hand." He mutters. Wriothesley closes his eyes and imagines holding their fragile body in his arms. In this fantasy, one hand was on their fragile neck, the other wrapped around their waist. He imagined how warm they would feel in his arms, how delicate their lips would look as they trembled. His breath hitched as he thought about kissing them, taking their soft lips with his own. The petal-like touch and spring warmth would surely be addicting. He knew, of course, that he was the one who needed them most. Though, he didn't understand how he'd come to adore this fragile being.

Wriothesley opened his eyes and peered at the artifact. He smiled, knowing it was almost time to put it to use.

--

The day you were to attend Furina's Tea Party approached more quickly than you imagined. You sigh as you look out the window. You wondered if it would be like last time- if you would freeze in place and be unable to speak. Your fingers trembled, so you gripped your dress clothes tightly.

The carriage rattles and thrusts you against its door. You take a moment to reorient yourself before you see the window is looking up into the sky, not the treeline. Your carriage had fallen over.

"Assassins." You mutter. You knew some hated you, but you never thought it was to the point they'd want you dead. Though, did you mind? Before this, hadn't you wished for death?

"I need someone as my eyes and ears." But you were needed now. Even so, was it a position only you could fill? Surely not.

"Found you~ Now, why don't you let your Godfather take you home, hm?" A strange and yet familiar voice coos, accompanied by sullied blue hair and a crow-like mask.

"Godfather- then- Father has died?" You ask, looking at the man, confused. You're not sure if he heard you. Your throat feels stuffy, so the volume of your words is minimal.

"Yep! You have no idea how long I've waited. So, (Y/N), will you come with me willingly? You have nothing to lose, do you?" The man, claiming to be your godfather, whispers cruelly. Your hands shook, and his grin seemed to widen. Did your fear excite him? Who was this? It hit you. This was the 'God' that Father prayed to. But he was no God, not really. His essence was too cruel to be the benevolent God Father claimed to love.

"Y-Your name." You stutter.

"Hm? Well, I suppose I can tell you that, under the pretense, I get to know something from you first. Tell me, (Y/N), what do you think I am?" Did he know what you were thinking? Could he read your face? You didn't know, but your mouth refused to move. His presence felt like a thick ooze, sinking and slipping over your skin, entangling your flesh and clothes in its putrid fluidity.

"I asked a question. Do I need to ask again?" His hand touched your chin, his skin freezing to the touch.

"A false God." You manage. Though you hadn't intended to be so honest.

"A false God? Hahaha! Good, then you don't expect me to be gentle. I am Il Dottore." The man smiled widely, his sharp, shark-like teeth catching light on the edges as shadow cascaded over his face and mask. You press your back against the carriage door instinctually, your body shaking. Why did that scare you? Why did that name sound so familiar? It wasn't the name of a God, no, it was the title of something far worse, far more mortal.

"The Wings of Revolution-"

"Oh? You know of us? Well, that makes it easier." Dottore grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the carriage, "Ah, minor mimicry, what a fascinating skill. I'm excited to learn all about it."

Just like that, it felt like your world was being consumed. How would you escape this? You were frozen in place. A stream of water replaces the spot Dottore's head used to be.

"It looks like I got here on time. I'll escort you back to the Wriothesley Estate. I'm afraid it would be too dangerous to finish the journey to the palace." Neuvillette states with a sigh, "Worry not about Furina, I will discuss this with her." You nod without thinking and look down at the headless body in front of you. Instead of viscera, you notice wood.

"It wasn't ... him ... Then what was that ominous feeling?"

"... Yes, it was Puppet Magic. The real culprit remains intact." Neuvillette confirms your suspicions in an instant. Puppet magic is well known as cruel magic. It is a manipulation of the soul and body. That magic is most commonly used like this, as an extension of the creator's will. In this case, it was a doll made to host a piece of the soul and memory of the creator. Of course, this likely means that the creator knows what happened here since those memories return once the exterior unit is destroyed.

"Then he will come back ..." You realize, your gaze blurring as a rush of nausea grasps your neck and stomach.

"I can not deny that. However, I can assure you that Wriothesley, within his Domain, will stand by you." Neuvillette tries to comfort you. He sounds so sure. You want to believe him. But is it safe? Puppet Master's manipulate the soul. His strangely soothing presence could be a result of that. You nod quietly. Did you have anywhere to go? You had no friends, your family wasn't an option, and Wriothesley was the only one with his arms open to you. Did you have a choice?

Yes. You told yourself. Of course, I have a choice. It's just a bad one. Truthfully, you only had one choice to survive. Despite your prior thoughts on the matter you weren't willing to actively choose demise, it had to take you itself.

--

"... I have a way to guarantee your safety, but it means giving up your freedom," Wriothesley tells you. His voice is softer than usual, and his eyes look tired. You falter.

"That is the only way. That is what you mean." You mutter, biting your lip. Did you have freedom? Was that a right you felt was worth the risk? You close your eyes and think. The creeping shadows and cold touch creep through your thoughts, scrapping at your mind and digging into you. You stop breathing for a moment before opening your eyes. The world is slightly blurred and you feel unsteady. You came to a decision. Wriothesley was generous compared to his rumors. You knew that the safest option was to be near him in this house. It still felt suffocating, but you knew it was the right choice.

"I'm sorry that this is the choice I can offer you. A binding to this place." What you didn't know was that Wriothesley's heart was racing. His lips had shifted into a subtle smile covered by a thoughtful cup of tea.

"I ... accept. So tell me what to do." Your voice shakes despite your wishes to sound confident. Wriothesley doesn't comment on this, instead he asks you to close your eyes and hold out your hand. There was no other option, so you did as he said. It was only when the whispers of a curse settled in that you understood what he had done. He had given you the same curse he bears. This curse was cold, like steel cuffs clinging to your wrists.

"Don't cry, I'll protect you." Were you crying? The hot tears fall down your cheeks, falling pleasantly into the hungry carpet beneath you. Wriothesley sounds happier than normal, but maybe you're mistaking his kind consolation as something more. He offered you a hug, a gesture you were not well acquainted with. Maybe that is what drew you to it, why you accept his arms so willingly around your smaller frame. His breath tickles your ear as he whispers gentle consolation. His breath feels strangely cold, but not unpleasant.

"I will make sure no one takes you away carelessly." His words were surely meant to be sweet. You knew he was trying to be kind. You just felt a strange sense of sickness twist in your stomach.

...

...

--

"I don't take kindly to false promises Wriothesley."

"I did not lie, you have done well to aid me. In return, here are the artifacts you wanted. You may do as you please with them according to our deal."

"I'm sure you'll need my help again soon. You know how to contact me."

"Of course, Doctor, I hope you weren't too bored. You even sent a puppet alone."

"Minor Mimicry. You know that 'minor' mimicry doesn't exist don't you?"

"Of course I do."

...

...

[maxybabyy]

Sequel to this maxiel ‘too hot to handle’ au (soft cw for COVID mention and implied unsafe travelling)

Daniel has been living in Max’s London apartment for four months when Max signs on as a Red Bull affiliate sim racer. And Daniel is so happy for him, of course he is. With his newfound celebrity status back in the Netherlands and now this, Max is free to do whatever the hell he wants. But Daniel. Daniel hasn’t really been doing much since ‘too hot to handle’ wrapped up. He does the the odd appearance at events, started up a cameo account, but with Max’s recent breakout, he starts to feel a bit lost, envious that he isn’t getting the same opportunities.

So when he’s offered a spot on the newest season of ‘The Circle’, he accepts.

Max freaks out when he tells him. They’re in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, and if Daniel leaves now, he won’t get back into the country, won’t come back. It causes the biggest fight they’ve ever had.

Max doesn’t yell, but it’s a hard conversation to have, and when Max leaves in frustration, Daniel doesn’t know what to do with himself. Because he has to leave, he can’t not go. He’s in his fucking thirties, and for an influencer like him, that’s pretty much ancient.

Max drives him to the airport, kisses him too wet and tearful. He tells Daniel that he loves him, begs him not to go, and when Daniel doesn’t, turns on his heels and leaves.

Quarantining for the show is tough.

Before Max, Daniel lived on his own in LA, but somehow, the last year has made him unable to be alone. Max still texts him, pictures of the cats, his set-up at the Red Bull facilities, his latest attempt at culinary disaster, but they don’t call.

To make matters worse, Daniel doesn’t win the show. His alliances are quick to get picked apart, and while Jesse – a gorgeous model from Austin, Texas – keeps flirting with him, it doesn’t feel right to flirt back even though he and Max aren’t together anymore. In the end, they call him a catfish and vote him out – a shitty end to an even shittier situation.

He’s offered some gigs around LA, nothing huge but enough to get him on the right lists. And then Netflix approaches him again, this time with their latest dating show – ‘Perfect match’.

He doesn’t say yes right away, knows the implications it will have for his and Max’s relationship, how obvious it will become that they’ve broken up. But like, Daniel isn’t looking for love – already knows where it is, where it was – this is just something that he has to do if he wants to stay relevant.

When you've been on one dating show, you’ve been on them all, Daniel reckons. The cast reminds him too much of the people they met on ‘Too Hot to Handle’ with the added bonus of inflated egos. Even the villa looks the same too, nice but bland with all cultural influence stripped away.

At the end of the first night, he matches with Gabby, a marketing lead from Seattle who has three brothers and loves to surf. She’s sweet and very pretty, touches his arm with her tiny hand when he makes her laugh, and Daniel thinks he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the weeks getting to know her.

They’re hanging out by the pool, day drinking and chatting. It’s freeing in a way Daniel hasn’t felt since ‘too hot to handle’, since before COVID hit. He loved hanging with Max, with the cats in their apartment and late-night Zoom sessions with Blake and Scotty. But it’s different like this, being around people. 

He’s only loosely paying attention when the conversation picks up, “Gabby, you were on ‘Love is blind’, right?” Amy, from a season of ‘The Circle’ before Daniel’s, asks. “So you’re like ready for the real deal, huh? Marriage and all.”

“I mean, that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” Gabby says and laughs. “To find our perfect match of course.” Her hand has found its way to Daniel’s leg, slim fingers loose around his ankle, and Daniel doesn’t think, he can’t –

He forces himself to breathe, to laugh along with the crowd and not jerk his leg out of her grip. He waits another few minutes – at least one, it has to be – before he gets up to get another drink. If he lets himself be pulled into a game of beer pong inside, then no one has to know.

With his mind back in the game, Daniel and Gabby win the second challenge of the show and have to send two people off on dates. Daniel is still stuck on the hot peppers he had to eat when Gabby says, “Oh, this guy is cute, in like. An odd sort of way.”

Her nose crinkles when Daniel looks over, laughs at the way it transforms her entire face. “I don’t think that’s a –“ he starts to say when his mouth suddenly slams shut. Because the guy that she’s pointing to, this odd but beautiful creature is Max. His Max. Max Verstappen who is supposed to be back in the UK, test driving fucking Formula One cars.

They don’t pick Max, settles on some guy from a show Daniel hasn’t watched. But it doesn’t matter in the end; Max checks in two challenges later, on the heels of a date with another ‘too hot to handle’ contestant.

They don’t talk.

Max doesn’t approach him, doesn’t even look at him as his date introduces him to the rest of the house. Daniel wouldn’t even know where to start, so he doesn’t. Their season is still new enough that a lot of the people haven’t watched it, don’t know how big of a deal it is that Max isn’t glued to his side.

Gabby kisses his cheek, says, “I’m going to bed, don’t be too late, okay?” and Daniel nods, smiles and takes another sip of his beer, “I’ll be right up, yeah?”

Max isn’t around, but Daniel cannot imagine he’s matched with anyone here, and maybe that’s for the best too. He’ll be sent home, and maybe – maybe then when they’re both back in London, they can talk.

He’s halfway up the stairs when there’s a shout from one of the rooms, the one he’s been living in with Gabby, so he speeds up, takes the stairs two steps of the time until he’s out of breath and leaning against the door frame.

Max is staring at him from the corner of the room, and he looks fucking pissed. Pissed that he had to come all the way over here to get Daniel home, pissed that Daniel agreed to yet another dating show to find his fucking ‘perfect match’ when Max is right here waiting for him.

Daniel doesn’t know what to say. Max still hasn’t said a word to him, staring at him like he’s livid, but a producer is hovering awkwardly around in case it gets violet.

The producer is about to pull Max away when Daniel turns to Gabby and tells her that he chooses Max.

Everyone but Max is stunned. The poor woman, who just wanted to go to sleep, reaches for his hand, tells him softly: “That’s not how this works, Dan. It’s the girls choosing tonight. This is my room, you know this.” Gabby actually genuinely likes him, knows if she doesn’t choose him tonight, they will have to send him home.

But Daniel can’t not choose Max, so he lets himself be pulled from the room, Max’s hand firm on his wrist as they make it down the stairs. The producer doesn’t know what to do with them either, so they point them in the direction of the couch and tell them they’ll figure it out in the morning.

They aren’t sent home.

Max is still pissed, but he is of course Daniel’s perfect match, knows him better than most of these people even know themselves, so they crush all the compatibility challenges. (“This is of course Daniel’s tweet.” “’Tripping balls.’ Always Daniel will say this.” “These emojis are Daniel’s also.”)

They still don’t talk. Daniel is getting increasingly skittish because he doesn’t know where they stand, or how to act around Max.

Then they lose a challenge.

The host tells them they’re playing a version of Seven Minutes in Heaven, that they all have to kiss each other and rate each other’s kisses and the couple with the highest aggregated score will win. Daniel is too distracted to kiss anyone, barely shakes through it when it’s finally his and Max’s turn – their eyes are covered, but Daniel would know him blind, by the way he tastes and the shape of his lips – the worst kiss they’ve ever shared, and it’s still better than any of the other people Daniel’s kissed. Max’s score was equally terrible, reflected only by the fact that he had to be judged by straight guys.

With Maxiel’s streak of winning everything they touch, the couple sees it as their opportunity to split them up, so they send Max off on a date with someone new.

And Daniel’s not. He isn’t worried. Max has made it clear that he is Daniel’s match. He doesn’t watch reality television, and this human centipede of washed-up influencers won’t affect him. Except when Max gets back, it isn’t some ‘Ultimatum’ reject or a celebrity realtor on his arm.

As seen on some Monaco-based dating show, but intimately more known by the two for his presence on ‘Drive to Survive’ because of his brother, Charles looks absolutely enamoured with Max as they walk through the house together.

Max, who’s been starved for any conversation that wasn’t about who could name-drop the biggest celebrity, glues himself to Charles’ side and doesn’t let go.

He still comes back to Daniel’s bed at night, and suddenly Daniel cannot wait any longer. “What are you even doing, Maxy?” He asks, head held in frustrated hands. “Why are you here? Why are you – what are you doing flirting with Charles Leclerc? This has to be the pettiest – “

“This is of course what you want, no?” Max says, too calm for the fucking mood in the room. “Always you want to win, and this I can do.”

“Max, what?” Daniel says, “I don’t just want to win. That’s not –“

“Because if you’re here to find your perfect match, but did not tell me, there is of course no reason I’m here also.”

Daniel is not about to have an emotional breakdown on television (his mum and sister watch everything he does, and they don’t need to see him cry), so he drags Max to a dead spot one of the other matches had found looking for hook-up spots.

Max is still pissed but he listens to Daniel explain how he’d felt back then, lost in their relationship and envious of the offers Max had gotten, how: “I’m getting old, Maxy.”

“You’re not old,” Max says, quick and indignant, natural in his defence of Daniel.

“I am, Maxy.” He says, laughs in a way that’s supposed to be fun and cute, but must drip of self-deprecation. “I’m the oldest one here, and soon they won’t want me anymore. Then what am I supposed to do?”

Max has given little thought to Daniel’s crippling fear of getting older because he of course wants Daniel always, will always think he is handsome. He also doesn’t understand Daniel’s obsession with being famous – an influencer, as the fucking Netflix producer had called him when he contacted him to say Daniel was coming on the show, and would he like to come too? –  but he knows Daniel loves what he does, and feeling like he’s failing at that must be terrible.

“Always you should tell me this,” Max says softly, reaches for him until Daniel falls into him. “If it was this important to you, then of course I will support you.”

Daniel breathes out, lets the last of his tension bleed from his body. “I know, Maxy. I was just, I don’t know. Maybe I was embarrassed? You had all this going for you, and I was just at home playing with the cats.”

“Never you should feel like this, Daniel.” Max says and hugs him tighter. “I am so proud of you, and if this is what you want, then you should have it always.”

“While I was in LA, after I did ‘the circle’, someone told me they might have a job for me. Like a pilot season or some shit,” Daniel tells him softly, rests his head on Max’s chest to listen to his heart beating. “It would be out in Austin, but like, it should only be a month, maybe two. But I thought like, maybe if it made sense with Red Bull, you could come with me?”

“Of course, Daniel.” Max is quick to say. “This long-distance thing, I think, is not for us. Always I want to be with you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel says and kisses Max, long and deep just like that first time. “Love you, Maxy.”

“I love you too, Daniel.” Max says, kisses him again before he stands up. “Now, let’s go so we can win this show also.”

[iamnotawomanimagod]

The best unhinged traits/moments for the characters in The Decameron:

When faced with violence that saves herself or her friends, Licisca almost always lets out a deranged cackle.

There are multiple moments where things are a little scary but going mostly fine, and then Filomena opens her mouth and says something she thinks will fix everything but actually dooms them. ("Licisca killed a bad cardinal! For God!")

Sirisco and his love for the little duck. Made better when the duck abandons him at first chance.

Stratilia mostly staying out of the way for the first half of the season because she's too busy trying to keep the villa running - but when the bandits attack in the first episode, her response is to wander around the chaos in the background, watching everyone panic while she laughs and eats an apple.

Panfilo being the most level-headed person in the villa, and therefore learning pretty much everyone else's secrets by like episode 3. (But he never reveals them, b/c he's perfect.)

Dioneo's entire existence as a Hot Doctor who is also poisoning his primary patient, so Tindaro has to stay in his chambers while Dioneo gets to go and enjoy the riches of a nobleman. Dioneo is far and away the more likeable and honorable person out of the two of them.

Tindaro info-dumping about the Romans every chance he gets, giving major autistic energy. (He's also a pompous asshole, but that's not relevant to the autism, that's a symptom of Nobleism.)

Licisca sees wriggling fish still alive in the stream and cries out like she's been presented with a delicious pastry. Then she smacks one against a rock to kill it while in her fancy noblewoman costume.

Everything Neifile does.

Feel free to add more!