#she's plagued by the horrors but she pretends not to see them

[gojostan-doodles]

Local farmer/ florist, Amari Vaughn 🌸💐

As a human/ demon hybrid, Amari is gifted with immense physical abilities. When she was a kid, it was very common for her to accidentally break things since she didn't know her own strength. But her affinity for flowers encouraged her to learn how to be delicate with her hands. She realized early on that she wanted to be a florist one day. During her developmental years, she was discreetly monitored by her parents, who looked for other signs of her having supernatural powers. They were relieved to learn that Amari was as normal as everyone else (for the most part). Because of that, they opted out of telling her that she was half demon, thinking that it would only be a source of stress for her if she knew.

Amari grew up in the city without much trouble. She played a lot of sports when she was in school, but it didn't interest her that much. She enjoyed taking care of plants, but found it hard to pursue that kind of work in the city. It's too much of a concrete jungle, y'know? So for a while she gave up on the idea.

Amari worked at a construction company for about 2 years before deciding to go after the life she actually wanted. So she packed her things and took a bus ride to Pelican Town, moving into the farmhouse her grandfather left for her. Settling in took some time, but Amari adjusted to her new lifestyle. She felt right at home surrounded by lots of nature.

But of course, Stardew Valley is a really weird place. So it wasn't long before she encountered the junimos, and later Rasmodius. The "tea" she drank from the wizard not only gave her the ability to communicate with the junimos, but also unlocked her dormant supernatural abilities. She immediately gained a white streak in her hair, and while in a disoriented state, accidentally set herself ablaze and fecking collapsed 💀 Reasonably stunned, the wizard puts out her fire with magic. When she finally wakes up he apologizes, telling her that he'll look into what went wrong and report back to her as soon as he can.

In the meantime, Amari tried to return to her life as a farmer, only to be met with a new set of problems. She struggled with burning her own crops (and many, many other items). During full moons, she would undergo a physical transformation, forcing her to stay home since she stood out like a sore thumb. So yeah, her first year really sucked 🥹 It was clear by her transformation that she was half demon, but it was later confirmed by Rasmodius. Amari was really confused and angry when faced with the reality that her parents didn't bother to tell her something so important.

Things eventually got better though. Over time she figured out that being stressed causes her to combust, so she ended up burning things less often. She made a lot of lovely friends in town too, some who turned out to be just as odd as her. It was really nice knowing she wasn't alone. And eventually she married Sebastian, so things were really great for a change!

About a year into their marriage someone new showed up to the farm, a demon named Uruz. Turns out he and a few others where tasked with searching different realms in order to find Lord Wynn. He's Amari's father, and the king of the demon realm. Uruz accidentally found Amari because her aura is the same as Wynn's (and since it was the night of a full moon, it was more intense). When Uruz learned that Amari knew nothing about her powers, he took it upon himself to stay and teach her everything she needed to know. Apprehensive at first, Amari eventually agreed after talking it over with Sebastian. She felt like she couldn't rely on her dad to tell her anything. So she decided to take this as an opportunity to learn everything, about herself and the demon realm. So currently there's a menace living on their farm that they have to keep in check 😭

Since Amari is only half demon, the abilities and traits she inherited from her dad is a mystery. So when she learns about how long demons usually live, she becomes incredibly anxious about her future. But she tries not to think about it.

[vicioux]

ICHIHIME FIC RECS

i can't believe i've been reading ichihime fanfics for literally 10 years ✌️ my favorite flavor is definitely pining with a touch of angst, but i am also a sucker for just them giggly all over each other! thank you bleach TYBW anime revival for bringing me back to these two cutie patooties and an even bigger thank you to all the writers that have been keeping the fandom alive all these years (especially in the earlier days back in the wild wild west of ff.net and LJ lol) y'all are amazing 💖 happy reading everyone p.s you can find the rest of my fic rec lists here

🍓 alternate universe 🍞

THE BRIDE OF THE DEATH GOD by caledon A plague descended upon the village, and to appease the God of Death they offered him a bride as a sacrifice.

THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING by marshmallowbirb High-schooler Kurosaki Ichigo discovers that he isn't as human as he once thought - and neither is his classmate, Inoue Orihime.

THE RELUCTANT BRIDEGROOM, DEATH by marshmallowbirb On a sunny summer morning, the young goddess Orihime gathers flowers on a hillside.

STARCROSS'D by child of the ashes In the vampire palace of Los Noches, there is no greater curse than beauty, and no greater crime than love.

NEXT VISIT by aurona x She can see him only with autumn comes, that man of the deep blue tree. And over the years, her love for him grows.

MOTHERHOOD by ashe flyght Orihime's family is financially unstable. So when Japan's most in demand actor, Kurosaki Ichigo offers her an unusual job will she accept it?

FINE LINES by lastlynotleast Ichigo is a tattoo artist and Orihime has skin he could draw on forever.

🍓 multichapter 🍞

THE BOND BETWEEN US by ritsu-san Post Ch. 352: Ichigo and Orihime are left to figure out this strange bond they share.

TIL DEATH DO US PART by marshmallowbirb Deemed too powerful, Ichigo is sequestered in Soul Society after defeating Aizen. Ten years later, one of his human friends dies.

THE CLOCKWORK SWITCH by sesamerolls (1 // 2 // 3) “Kurosaki-kun?” She wanted to bite back her words. This person couldn’t be him. He was a few inches taller, broader, and manlier than the youth who gave her daifuku just minutes before.

🍓 oneshots that will make you feeeeel 🍞

DEMAGNETIZE by ghosty If opposites attract, then what does that mean for us?

TACTILE by mrhooty Orihime has accepted that her boundaries will never be respected, but Ichigo is too good of a friend to allow that.

AFFIRMATION by sesamerolls Ichihime from the beginning to the end.

HOME IS WHERE THE SUN SETS by awkwardspaceturtle Using the word ‘beautiful’ didn’t seem like enough; nothing he could ever say out loud would tell her how she really looked in his eyes.

BUILD A HOUSE IN PARADISE by zabiume Ichigo and Orihime move in together.

PAPER HOUSES by zabiume Mostly, he just wanted to know if she was okay, if she was eating well and passing her courses and if, when she went to bed at night, she had someone to smile about.

PROMPTFILL by zabiume Truth serum induced angst.

PROMPTFILL by captainrukias-husband Ichigo writes a poem for Orihime.

TEMPTARE BEAST by mayelisa As Orihime watched in horror as Ichigo took on that form again, she had a sinking feeling that this day wouldn't turn out at all like she had planned.

MEMORIES IN THE RAIN by garden of magnolias If I were the rain, could I connect with someone's heart, as the rain can unite the eternally separated earth and sky?

ALWAYS SUMMER by folle Orihime is calling, calling, and Ichigo doesn't know how to not answer, except in the most important way.

BECOMING WHOLE by lovelycollision He loves her in various ways, during different stages of his life. It's after the war when he realizes that he's in the third stage, otherwise known as the beginning.

🍓 outside POV looking in 🍞

ELEVATING by sesamerolls “Okay, let’s theoretically agree Ichi-nii has a girlfriend,” said Karin, resting her palm underneath her chin.

SIMPLY BY MEASUREMENT by sesamerolls When it first began, he pretended not to notice.

PROMPTFILL by scribblles Ichigo screwed up his befuddlement into a distinctly grumpy expression. “For your information, I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking. Worrying, actually. And it’s about a friend. Who… happens to be a girl.”

🍓 funny fluffy oneshots 🍞

OF MICE AND MEN by garden of magnolias Ichigo realizes that getting rid of a mouse in his and Orihime's apartment is a lot more complicated when it involves his girlfriend.

I REJECT! by scribblles Keigo has a rare moment of inadvertent correctness.

RUMOUR HAS IT by fictionaryplace Ichigo and Orihime have important news, but decide to have a little fun with their friends and family before coming clean.

DELAYED REACTION by crystal dawn Orihime is feeling under the weather. Against his better judgment, Ichigo suggests she visit his father's clinic.

ICED FRAPPUCCINO by hedonysms Ichigo and Orihime get a coffee. Ichigo is simultaneously an emotional sap and a horny, utterly repressed man.

STARTING FRESH by kay sincere Ichigo doesn't have a resolution for the new year himself. But it does come to his attention that his friends could use his help.

NOSEBLEED by deathberryhime Where that little smile would have done more damage than intended to.

OUR BREATHS IN PERFECT HARMONY by iwillhaveamoonbase When Ichigo's friend talks about a cute girl at a bakery, Ichigo agrees to introduce them with no idea that the girl in question is his girlfriend.

WELL WISHERS by adverb_slut It turns out that shinigami are not so great at gift-buying, especially for a four-week-old baby.

THE ART OF SHIPPING by alice hattercandy In which, everyone ships. Even Ichigo.

🍓 anything and everything by these authors 🍞

SESAMEROLLS CAPTAINRUKIAS-HUSBAND ZABIUME (tumblr // ao3) SCRIBBLLES CRYSTALDAWN / MARSHMALLOWBIRB (ffnet // ao3) ORIHIMES RITSU-SAN (more on their LJ sunburnt-wings) TRAGICOMEDY (more on their LJ explicates)

[polaritiesoop]

Gem and Lizzie would make for fun enemies as I think they would make great for a duo. Is it just me? Like better if it's one sided rivalry like with Joel and Scott. Lizzie is confused, Gem is bloodthirsty. Must be just me and my pirate concept with pirate captain Gem and her beef with the ocean and Lizzie as the Ocean Queen.

lemme rant about my concept

Gem is cursed by some ancient entity to shift into an ocean siren hit with the urge to eat people and longing to breathe underwater, she hates it because her siren features are slowly becoming permanent almost replacing her hybrid features of being a deer. Which she is devastated of as she is the sole survivor of her village kind. At some point she and her crew rescued Joel from captivity as he was a prince of a kingdom in the middle of a war. And Joel has the attention of Ocean Queen Lizzie, straight up being courted by her and he has an embarrassing crush on her yet is oblivious. When Gem realizes Joel is connected with her, she keeps Joel captive and demands Lizzie to cure her curse. Lizzie, who was not the one to cast the curse nor is she powerful enough to undo a curse, is confused on why Gem is being so hostile and keeping her from seeing Joel. They would have squabbles in the ocean and Lizzie is just half confused and half annoyed that Gem keeps fighting her. Plus she's embarrassed because Gem wins nearly all the time. Of course it eventually develops into friendship through the different misadventures of Gem and her crew.... And Lizzie is there on the ocean cuz she can't really stay much on land and Gem would aim for her head if she ever tries to take a step on their ship. she really wants to join the crew but Gem keeps refusing. Joel feels like Gem is acting like a parent keeping him away from Lizzie, Taylor Swift's Romeo and Juliet style of goofy lovestory.

Gem's crew consist most of the magical mt. cast that might be also cursed like Gem in diff. ways and so each of them have their own stories. Scar is a wanted criminal and vex hybrid and might/might've not stolen an important artifact from the last cannibal cult he was a part of (triple whammy) and might/might not be threatened every time with death because he got the attention of an ancient entity, I wonder why? Grian is a runaway prince that teenaged Gem had the unfortunate time with when he sneaked into the pirate ship of another crew Gem was once a cabin girl for. Now he is in Gem's crew disguised as a middle aged fisherman that contributes jack shit on the crew, but can't be kicked out cause he's a great fighter and the Snail Colony both cursed Gem and Grian as their servants and they are inseparable by contract. Skizz was supposed to assassinate Joel, but had grown fond of the man while taking on the role as his personal knight, and so was protecting him all the time when Prince Joel was kidnapped and the two of them formed a deeper friendship when they were kept captive . Skizz is definitely an ancient entity that is not aware he is one, has an awful amnesia of his divinity, and will start to remember while having a second go at puberty in the form of wings. Many Many sprouting wings. Impulse has a touch with death, he does not know why but he is happy to see his bestfriend Skizz again! He is plagued by the ghosts that start to randomly haunt their ship but he knows it's because of Scar...because they keep telling him to kill Scar. Oh, and Impulse encounters ghostly Joel clones pretending to be Joel of a variety of killing moods, for whatever reason they are targeting Skizz. Something is not right with Joel.

What about Mumbo? uhhhhh Normal Guy™. Genuinely loves to tend to the ship be it redstone and building. Experiences all the horrors of his friends' curses first hand. Does help them and somehow always at the scene of the crime but also at the resolution of said crime. It's almost suspicious how he keeps surviving....

Yeah, so pirates, lotsa ancient entities and curses and cults and crazy island colonies with more curses. but most importantly. snails. and the moon might start cash landing on earth because for some reason the moon goddess (Pearl duh) is now on earth and her powers are gone and Gem needs to help her. Somehow.

[blooming-violets]

Hold My Hand (sequel to Bring Your Kids to Work Day)

[tasm!peter x fem!reader]

Summary: [link to part one] The trauma of a fire scars more than just the flesh. A sequel to the “Dragging themselves along the ground” prompt.

A/N: This is for @moonyslove78​ only but I suppose you can read it too if you’d like.  

Six months. 

That’s how long it had been since the incident. 

Not fire. 

Incident. 

You couldn’t say the word “fire” anymore. You couldn’t think of it. You couldn’t hear it. That word no longer existed in the English language. Peter knew that. Anything involving the incident was off limits. The last time he had mentioned it was when he asked if you wanted to attend Harrison’s funeral. The way your eyes widened, blurring out of focus, the way your hands started to tremble, the way your breath caught in your throat, made him immediately retract that question. You had been transported back to a time that he couldn’t see, a memory he could only imagine from what was told to him, and one he wished he could steal from your brain to claim as his own. He knew he couldn’t lift your burden. He couldn’t take on your trauma.

It didn’t stop him from trying, though. 

Peter was supposed to fix things. He was a protector. He was supposed to keep you safe. He had saved your body from the burning building but your mind had been left behind. It had incinerated in the flames like the charred, blackened corpse of Harrison. 

He attended the funeral on your behalf. It was a closed casket. Obviously. Some bodies are not meant to be shown after death. Peter had smiled politely and sent your regards to his family. He tried not to stare too long at the young man’s weeping sister. She looked no older than thirteen. She gripped tightly onto her mother’s hand. He received his own flashbacks of Gwen’s younger brothers’ clinging to their mother, unable to fully comprehend the weight of what was occurring before them. 

If he had to pretend like the fire never happened, for your sake, then he would do his best. The weeks after, any newspaper article, any internet post, any television story was banned from your apartment. He made no mention of what happened. The only time it was referenced was when you needed to have the burns, seared into your skin, looked after. Your right hand was no longer able to open and extend fully from the scarring on your palm and fingers. You would have permanent scarring along your arm, as well. They were a constant visual reminder of what happened that afternoon and he often found you with your right arm hidden behind your back to keep it out of view. 

You hated the heat now. Even throughout the winter you kept your air conditioning on. Peter spent his winter with a persistent, unshakable cold from being constantly exposed to the frigid air. Anything to keep you happy. He tried to keep your days as normal as possible. You didn’t like to go outside because you felt like you had to be on constant alert around other people but you hated the feeling of being trapped indoors. Peter found a happy compromise by breaking open the lock to your apartment roof and letting you find solace outdoors without the wandering eyes of curious strangers. He hauled two old armchairs up there that May no longer needed. It gave you two some place to sit and stare down at the city street. 

You were up there now. You always were. During the day, his duty was to keep your mind occupied. During the night, his duty was to hold you tightly for every night terror that plagued your screaming mind. He would fend off the horrors and keep you safe any way he could. 

“You can’t keep pretending like it never happened,” May whispered across the small, round table to her nephew. She had stopped by this morning to drop off leftovers and check in on how things were going. She was appalled at him when he told her the truth. “This is no life for her, Peter.” 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and staring out your kitchen window. She had no need to whisper. You couldn’t hear her up on the roof. 

“She’s not ready,” he replied.

“She’ll never be ready. No one is ever ready to face their trauma. It’s reaching the six month anniversary. It’s time you started talking about it. She needs to get it out,” May reached a hand across the table to pat his arm. “When Ben left us, I wanted to pretend like it was all a terrible dream. I wanted to disappear into the safest parts of my mind where he still existed and block out the rest of the world. But you can’t heal like that. To heal, you must talk about it. You have to get her talking, Peter, before she slips away forever. She needs you to listen to her and hold her hand while she battles her demons. She doesn’t need you to play pretend with fake smiles and act like everything is wonderful.” 

Peter closed his eyes. The only time he was able to heal from Gwen was when he started talking about it. May had been the one to listen. She had been the one to hold his hand and guide him through the loss. He should be strong enough to pass that on to the person he loved. 

“I’m scared,” he mumbled. “I’m scared it will hurt her too much.” 

“It will,” she replied. “It will be painful. It will be hard. But she needs to face what happened. She can’t live on the roof forever, honey. She needs your help to find her way again.” 

He gave a solemn nod, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hey,” Peter whispered as he came up behind you. 

The sun was starting to set over the buildings. Spring was bringing in warmer weather but dusk was still chilly. You wore nothing but short sleeves as you started out into the horizon. When he looked at you now, you felt empty to him, like your very essence had been stolen from your body. His eyes traveled down to your right arm. The skin was wrinkled and leathery. Your fist was partially closed as it rested against the ledge you leaned on. He reached out to place his hand over your closed one. 

“It’s getting chilly out here. Do you want my coat?” 

When you didn’t respond, he shrugged off his coat and tucked it around your shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Still nothing. He might as well be speaking to a mannequin. He took a deep breath to brace himself for his next sentence. His arm reached out in front of you to subconsciously block your path should you decide to suddenly throw yourself off the building. 

“I just got off the phone with Jenny. She told me all about the kids.” 

Peter watched carefully for your reaction. After May left, he made a call to your former coworker. It had been too long since he checked on Ollie and Ellie. He spoke to Jenny for over an hour. She told him all about her kids’ healing process. They seemed to be doing alright. Ollie was completely back to his usual self and Ellie had her good and bad days. Both kids had been asking about you for months now. 

You blinked a few times as the news set in. Your head tilted to the side.

“I don’t know a Jenny,” you mumbled under your breath.  

Peter shuffled closer, standing his ground, “Yes. You do. She’s the mother of Ollie and Ellie. You worked with her. She shared a desk beside you.” 

Your shoulders tensed and you shook your head, “No. I don’t know those people. You’re confused.” 

He sighed, stepping forward to gently capture your cheek in his palm, turning your head to face him, “Look at me. You know them. Ellie’s been asking for you. She wants to see you.” 

You whimpered, trying to turn your head away from him, but he held you steady, “No…I don’t…” 

“Yes.” Peter’s voice was firm but his eyes shone with tears. “You know them. You saved them. From the fire.” 

You flinched, stumbling back out of his grasp, “No. Stop.” 

“You were in a fire. You were trapped in a burning building.”

Your hands clasped against your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut, “Stop it, Peter!” 

He gently pulled your arms back down to his side, wrapping them around his waist, “No. You stop it. You were trapped inside a building with two children. Ellie and Ollie. You took care of them. You got them out. You saved them. It happened. It wasn’t pretend. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.”

Tears streamed down your face. You tighten your grip around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, “No…you saved them…” 

“Not me,” Peter whispered. He nuzzled his face against the side of your head, holding you protectively in his arms. “I didn’t know where you were. You got Ellie to safety. You called me. You told me where to go. All I did was break a wall. You saved those kids. And those kids want to see you again. Jenny told me Ellie talks about you every night. She’s…struggling with what happened. I think seeing you again would really help her. You’re the only other person who understands what that little girl went through. I think you can help each other.” 

You were silent for a long time. He didn’t press any further for now. Baby steps. You cried softly into his shirt while he stroked your hair. He whispered how much he loved you and how strong he thought you were into your ear. He waited until you were ready. 

You took a shaky breath followed by a coughing spell. Your lungs were weaker after the fire. Your voice often suffered from hoarseness and you would fall into coughing fits every so often. He waited until you were finished before pulling back slightly, grasping onto your shoulders, and looking into your watery eyes. 

You were still in there. Somewhere. 

He would find you and pull you free. 

“Please,” Peter rested his forehead against yours. “I need you to do this with me. I want you to meet those kids. I need you to start healing. If you can’t start healing for yourself then start with helping a sweet, scared, little girl with her own healing. They need you. I need you. I’m afraid you’re slipping away from me.” 

You lifted your good hand up to his cheek and wiped away a tear. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying. You gave him a soft smile. It was the first one he saw since the day he pulled you from the flames. 

“I’m not going anywhere, P. I’m here. I’m not leaving you. Promise.”

“It was so nice of you to agree to this,” Jenny led you and Peter into their family's town house. 

You two agreed to babysit the kids while their parents went out for a quick dinner. It was about a month after your rooftop talk. Peter wanted to bring you more back down to earth before exposing you to the children. You weren’t in a perfect place but you were coherent enough to not frighten them. Jenny and her husband were aware of your situation. They agreed to let you watch them for only an hour or two while they were just down the street. If there were any troubles, they would be back in less than five minutes. Jenny was struggling with getting through to Ellie. According to her, Ollie’s excitement over meeting Spider-Man overtook any fear he had from being trapped in a bathroom during the fire but Ellie was silent. She was withdrawn and short tempered. She suffered from nightmares and bed wetting. Jenny was worried she couldn’t reach her daughter as much as she’d like. That’s where you could come in. You were there. You knew what she went through. You could answer the child’s questions better than anyone. 

“They’re in the playroom. They’ve already eaten dinner and are in their pjs. You won’t need to put them to bed. We can do that when we get home. Just…play with them and keep them safe. I’m sure Ollie will talk your ear off.” Jenny paused, mulling over something in her mind. “You know, before the fire, it was always Ellie who never stopped talking. Now…well…now it seems like Ollie feels the need to pick up the slack and fill her silence. They sleep in the same bed every night. He wants to protect her. I won’t let him sleep with his Spider-Man mask on so he keeps it tucked under his pillow instead. He said it helps keep Ellie safe from the nightmares.” 

Peter glanced over at you. Your jaw was locked tight and your body was stiff. Talking about the fire was still difficult for you. Hearing so much about the twins was starting to overload your emotions. He wondered if this was a mistake. It might be too soon. 

“It’s okay,” he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Hold my hand. I’m right here.”

You took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He tried to imagine his own strength leaving his body and entering into you where your hands connected. 

Jenny paused at the door to the playroom to give the two lovers a sad smile, “Like we said earlier, if you need us to come home early, please don’t hesitate to ask. We know this is a big deal. If Ellie asks anything you don’t feel comfortable answering, just tell her to ask us when we get home. You can talk openly with them. Their therapist says that it’s good to speak the truth instead of sugar coating everything. They might be young but their trauma is real and they should be able to talk about it however they need to. They don’t need adults to downplay what they went through.” She steadied herself and put on a smile for show, opening the playroom door. “Look who’s here, guys!” 

Ollie looked up from his spot on the floor where he was building a block tower and smiled, “I know you! You gave us lollipops.” 

Lollipops. Out of everything that happened that afternoon, that’s how he remembered you. Peter almost laughed at the beautiful innocence of it but held it in. He could feel you tensing up beside him. He gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You must be Ollie,” he stepped in to cover for you while you better composed yourself. Seeing the twins again must have brought back a flood of memories. “My name’s Peter. I’m going to help watch you guys tonight, if that’s okay with you.” They had only ever met Spider-Man, not Peter. He was much less exciting without a mask. 

Ollie looked at him suspiciously, “I dunno. Do you like Spider-Man? What about Paw Patrol?” 

Peter smiled. From the corner of his eye he saw you give a tug of a smile too. 

“I’m Spider-Man’s second biggest fan. I heard you’re his number one. I don’t know much about Paw Patrol but I’m sure you could teach me everything you know.”

Ollie beamed, “Then you can stay with us. He likes Spider-Man, Ellie!” 

He looked over to his sister. Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot curled up on the couch. She was staring up at the ceiling with a picture book resting over her chest. She hadn’t made any acknowledgment towards them since they entered. It was like she was stuck in a daydream. It was a look Peter had become all too familiar with these past months. 

Ollie waved his hand at her, “Ellie! Hello? I’m talkin’ to you.” His tiny shoulders sagged when he got no response. “She’s too busy thinking right now. She’ll be back later.” 

From beside Peter, you finally stirred to life, “It’s okay. I get lost thinking too much, too. We can wait until she finds her way back.” You dug into your pocket and pulled out two lollipops. “I knew I couldn’t show up today empty handed. Would you like some dessert?” 

Ollie ran over to you to snatch one out of your hand as you offered it to him, “Thank you!” He looked to his mother for approval before digging into the treat. 

Jenny sighed, “I think we’ll be off. We’ll be just down the street. You have both our numbers. Oliver, you be on your best behavior. Show your guests where everything is in the house if they need anything. Ellie, darling…” She walked over to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “You be good, sweetie. Mommy will be back really soon. If you need me for anything, you ask for the phone to call me, okay?” She turned around to smile at Peter. “Thank you. We’ll text you in about twenty minutes to make sure everything is going well.” 

He smiled back, “We’ll be fine. You guys have fun.” 

He watched as they left the room and he listened to the front door click locked behind them. He turned his attention to you. Your muscles had lost some of their tension but you still stood rigidly beside him, clinging onto his hand. Your eyes were trained on Ellie as she stared up at the ceiling. He followed your gaze. The young girl’s blonde hair was splayed out over the couch cushion. She looked lost in thought. It was nearly the exact same look you had worn for the last six months. The fire had aged the child faster than anyone was prepared for. Her eyes held the secrets and horrors only you could understand. 

Peter gave your shoulder a nudge. He nodded in Ellie’s direction, signaling with his eyes that you should go talk to her. A look of panic flashed across your face. He brushed his thumb over your hand. 

“It’s okay,” he silently mouthed. “You can do this.” 

You took a deep breath and slipped your hand from his. He watched as you slowly made your way over to Ellie and kneel down beside her. 

“Hi,” your voice was soft and gentle. Peter could detect the hint of sadness in it. “You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to. I’m sure seeing my face might bring back a lot of painful memories. I have them, too. The painful memories. Sometimes they feel so big that I feel like I can’t breathe and they’re choking all the air out of my lungs. Other times they make me feel lost inside my own mind. Like I’m wandering a dark hallway forever and can’t find my way out. You don’t have to look at me, Ellie, if it makes you feel like that, but I want you to know that I’m here. For you. I’m here for you. And I will sit quietly beside you until you feel ready.” 

You sat down with your back leaning against the couch. Peter gave you a soft smile, his eyes trying to convey how proud of you he felt. 

“I was saved by Spider-Man, you know.” Ollie popped the lollipop out of his mouth and tugged at Peter’s hand. “He punched through a wall and flew through the air with us. He kissed Ellie on the mouth to make her come back to life.” 

Peter grinned and plopped down onto the ground in front of him, “I don’t think he was kissing her, Ol. He was probably giving her CPR. That’s when someone helps blow air into someone else’s lungs when they need help breathing.” 

Ollie mimicked his crossed legged position on the ground, “Oh. I never heard of CRP before. The lollipop girl was there, too. Spider-Man didn’t like when she wouldn’t open her eyes.” 

Your back was straighter than usual as Peter carefully watched you from the corner of his eye. Your breaths were getting heavy but you seemed to be able to keep them under control. 

He smiled over at Ollie, “Spider-Man likes to save people. I’m sure he was just worried that someone he was supposed to save wasn’t feeling very well.” 

Ellie shot up from her spot on the couch. Her hair was knotted in the back and stuck out at crazy angles as if she’d been laying in that spot for a very long time. She turned dark eyes to glare at Peter. 

“Spider-Man is bad at his job,” she huffed. “He didn’t come soon enough. We almost got dead like that one man. He should of helped us sooner. I hate him. He’s not a hero. He’s a bad guy.”  

Before Peter could speak, you shifted in your spot to turn around and face the young girl. He watched as you studied her face in silence for a bit. Ellie wasn’t the same person she was before the fire. She was hardened. Angry. You could relate. 

You reached your hand out and placed it gently over hers, “It’s not Spider-Man’s fault. There were a lot of people who needed saving that day. He came right when he needed to. I think we made a pretty good team before he got there, don’t you think? You held my hand the whole time even when you were scared. You stayed right by my side and we made it all the way across the office to find Ollie. It was you who reminded me to go get him, Ellie. You helped save yourself and your brother just as much as Spider-Man did.” 

Her little face softened and she slumped back into the cousins of the couch, “It was too scary. I didn’t like it.” 

“Me either,” you sighed. “I really didn’t like it. It hurt and it was scary and I wish it never happened. But it did. It happened and that’s okay. Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. We just keep pushing forward and doing our best with what we have. I think we did the best job we could have in that situation. I’m so proud of what we were able to do. Look at us. We made it. We’re alive. Everyone who was locked in that bathroom is still here in this room.” 

“...Not Spider-Man,” Ollie spoke under his breath, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but still wanting to throw in his two cents. 

You grinned, glancing over your shoulder at him, “You’d be surprised, kid.” 

Peter laughed. He knew what you had said would go over both children’s heads. The sound of his laughter made you laugh along with him. It was the first time in half a year that he got to hear that beautiful sound. It flooded his body with a warm light and brought joyful tears to his eyes. He quickly tried to brush them away before anyone would notice but you were already staring straight at him. 

“I love you,” you silently mouthed in his direction. 

This was working. Seeing the twins was doing more good than it was harm. He gave a deep sigh and released months of pent up anxiety. 

“What’s so funny?” Ellie asked, glancing between the two of you. 

You chuckled to yourself, “Nothing. You babies are just too cute.” 

“We are not babies!” Both Ellie and Ollie shouted at the same time. 

The twins glanced at each other in shock and then fell into their own fit of laughter. Ollie leapt onto the couch to tackle his sister, jumping on top of her, and smothering her with rough hugs. 

“Hey, cut it out!” She cried through her laughs. “That tickles!” 

Peter scooted closer to you. His fingers grazed lightly down your spine until they rested on your hip. You turned your attention to him. There was something softer about your edges now. A part of who you used to be was returning back into your soul as your walls slowly came down. 

“How you doing?” He spoke softly so only you could hear. 

You smiled, a genuine one, and nodded, “I’m okay. Really. I’m okay.” 

“I knew you would be,” he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I never doubted you for a second.” 

Ollie leaped off the couch towards the two of you without warning. Peter managed to grab him midair before he crash landed into your side. In one, singular, swoop he tucked the boy under his arm like a football and jumped to his feet, spinning them both around to the sound of over-tired giggles. 

“Pretend that I’m Spidey!” He shouted. “I’m swinging through the air with my web shooters. Pew! Pew!” He mimicked the motion of Spider-Man shooting off his webs with his hands. 

“Alright, Spidey, a bad guy just robbed a bank. It’s your job to stop him before he gets away!” Peter held Ollie in his arms and lifted him to the ceiling to make it look like he was crawling upside down. 

Ollie squealed with joy and scurried across to the wall where Peter pretended to slowly lower him by some imaginary webs. 

“There’s the robbers,” Ollie whispered to new best friend. He pointed to you and his sister. “They have the pirate jewels and we gotta get ‘em back.”

You gave Ellie a glance to see if she was willing to play along. She brushed her hair out of her eyes with a look of determination and rolled behind you. 

“Hurry,” she shouted. “We have to make a run for it! Spider-Man is coming!” She leapt to her feet and held up an imaginary bag. “You’ll never catch us! We have a secret hide-a-away. Quick, let’s go.” Ellie grabbed your hand and the two of you took off out the playroom and down the hall. 

What followed could be considered the cutest Spider-Man chase Peter had ever participated in. He easily held Ollie up while he jumped him from wall to wall and swung from Peter’s arms. You and Ellie threw crumpled paper balls and stuffed animals at them as they tried to approach. Peter would weave and dodge with the child in his arms, even going so far as to perfectly tuck and roll with him to avoid the attack of a flying stuffed pig. If the kids were any older than they might feel the need to question where those reflexes came from but, being so young, it only enhanced their already vivid imaginations. There was out of breath panting, delighted screams, and enough laughter to heal every damaged, broken heart under this roof. 

By the time Jenny and her husband came home, the four of you were tucked under a freshly made blanket fort while Peter told stories about the adventures of Spider-Man that he “made up” as he went along. The twins were both snuggled to either side of you, Ellie’s hand clutched tightly in your scarred one, as their wide eyes took in everything Peter was saying. You rested your cheek against the top of her head. She didn’t need to talk in depth about her experience in the fire. Not now, at least. All she needed was a little reassurance that it happened and that it was terrible but that she got through it. Seeing your face was the reminder she needed to know that things would be okay in the end. If you could be okay, the person who kept her safe and stayed by her side during the events, then maybe she could be okay too. What Ellie didn’t know is that was exactly what you were searching for, as well. Seeing Ellie be able to laugh and play like a normal child put everything into perspective. Trauma can break a person but it can also build you up from the ashes. You can come out stronger than you ever thought possible. You were no longer just a normal person. You were a survivor. You survived. It took everything inside of you to get there but you did it. 

A blanket fort full of people who had beaten the odds and survived tragedy, all being able to laugh together, was a perfect representation of that. 

It wasn’t the first time Peter had stood between a child and death, it wouldn’t be the last, but this time was special. This time you were there beside him. He had a flash of the future, one where you were older and holding a baby of your own in your arms while you both cheered on Ellie and Ollie as they graduated from high school with their entire life ahead of them. The thought made him smile. 

“Well, isn’t this a happy sight!” Jenny explained as she peeked her head in under the fort. 

Ollie leapt up, “Mommy!” He threw his arms around his mother in a big hug. 

“It’s too soon,” Ellie complained. “We’re not ready! I don’t want them to go yet. I want them to stay.” 

“It’s already past your bedtime,” Jenny scolded her but when she reached out her hand, Ellie happily took it, and she was pulled into a hug. “I take it that means things went well?” 

“They were great,” you replied. “I don’t think they could have gone better. I think this was exactly what everyone needed.” 

Jenny looked visibly relieved, “And there weren’t any…problems?” 

Peter helped you duck out of the fort, “Nope. There was a little talk about it but, in true Spider-Man fashion, Ollie managed to save the day and get everyone lost in a game of bank robbers.” 

“I’m so glad to hear it. Thank you two so much. I’m sure we’ll be hearing all about your adventures as we try to wrestle them to sleep.” She helped walk you to the front door. “Kids! If you want to say goodbye to your guests, now is the time!” 

They came barreling down the hallway. Ollie crashed into Peter’s arms and was lifted up to wrap his arms around his neck. 

“I think you’re better than Spider-Man!” He gave Peter a sloppy kiss on the cheek then proceeded to be held upside down and swung back and forth to an explosion of laughter. 

Ellie inched her way closer to you. She wiggled her finger to indicate that you should bend down to her level. You happily obliged. Peter carefully dropped Ollie back to his feet and let his ears pick up what Ellie was whispering softly to you. 

“Thank you for coming to play with me today,” she breathed in your ear so only you…and Peter…could hear. “You’re my Spider-Man. You’re my hero.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes but you held them at bay, “You’re my hero too, Ellie. I’ve never met anyone braver than you. You crawled through a room full of fire to save your brother. You’re the real Spider-Man.” 

She gave a bashful giggle and sprinted away down the hall with Ollie on her heels. You stood up as Peter led you out the front door after saying goodbye to Jenny. 

The night was dark and the air was crisp. The two of you walked in silence for a few blocks. Peter wanted to let you digest your night. It was a big moment for you, having to face your past head on. 

You gave a loud, long sigh, tilting your head to the dark sky and closing your eyes, “I think we did good today. Don’t you?”

“Very much so. You, especially.” 

“I want this night to end on a happy note. I want this night to feel normal. I miss normal,” you reached out your hand for Peter. “Hold my hand.”

He gladly accepted, locking his fingers with you, “I’ll never say no that. Let’s go be normal together.” 

“Normal and boring. What could possibly be better than that?” 

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter IV

Hey guys! Sorry for taking such a long break, I had a lot of fsmily events over the last few weeks and had a hard time juggling time.

I do hope you enjoy the update, though. I think this chapter will be the last for this series unless there's specific prompts/ideas you want to see. (If so, let me know in the comments or asks! I'd be v happy to write them <33)

TW: implied SA, slight violence

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist

Geralt had searched for months, the days scraping by as he looked for Andromeda in every shadow, in every smile, in every laugh that haunted him on his travels.

He had left his friends - left them all so he could find her.

Cirilla was safe with Yennefer at Aretuza, and Jaskier had wandered to distant lands, his heart full of broken ballads of an unfinished journey.

Geralt and Yennefer had kept a tentative friendship, ever so cautious to not overstep the boundaries Geralt had so diligently drawn up. Friendship came to them with ease, but every interaction was soured by guilt from one party and longing from the other.

Geralt ventured through the continents, unsure of what guided him and where. His mind was bare of thoughts and his heart burning with emotions he had never been taught to deal with. He was a mess.

He had barely slept since Andromeda had left, living off the scarcest meals as his stomach turned to lead at the idea she may be starving in some backwashed village all because he had messed up and sent her running.

Andromeda was a princess. She was not made for the life he lives. Yet she still followed him into danger, still healed his every wound, and still stood bravely in the face of death if it meant Cirilla would be okay.

She trusted Geralt, trusted him to help them survive, to help them live and find a purpose. Now she was alone, far from them all. And he did not even know if she was safe.

Andromeda was an enigma, a presence so addicting he felt his skin crawl at the realisation he had been so far apart from her for so long. His heart would burn as it longed for her. His mind was plagued with the sound of her voice, his skin imprinted with the sensation of her hands brushing against his skin as she took care to treat his wounds after every battle, his eyes tracing her silohuette in the shadows as he forced himself to sleep at night.

Months.

Months of searching and no success.

Geralt was laid back in a bed, facing the ceiling as he laid an arm over his forehead and scrunched his eyes closed in defeat. He couldn't get her out of his head, her eyes burned into his mind, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he would pretend she was watching him as he slept. Ever a watchful eye, a caring friend, a loving mate.

Perhaps that was why this situation took him by surprise.

He smelt it - a deep and honeyed scent of orange blossoms and jasmine tickling his senses as he leapt up from his place on the bed.

He inhaled deeply, a wild beast searching for its prey. His shoulders tensed as he leapt up to replace his sword and dagger into their respective belts, hands rummaging through blankets and over furniture to collect trinkets and vials he had thrown carelessly across the tavern room as he lost himself in his grief.

Geralt marched through the tavern he had taken residence in, deaf to the cries of indignation of drunk patrons he barged past and eyes seeking a familiar head of hair in the crowd.

His senses led him far from the tavern he hoped Andromeda was hidden in, pushing him to march towards the outskirts of town.

Geralt had never found himself fearing for his life, never had he faced a creature he could not slay and never had he doubted the skills instilled upon him from infancy.

Yet, in this moment now, as he tore through the wilderness in the careful embrace of the night sky, the air thick with fear and horror as the smell he had been craving - the smell he had been fantasising about for months - made itself known to him and grew stronger as he drew closer, he felt a shred of fear wedge itself in his heart.

He could hear a stuttered heartbeat, ragged breaths, and a cloying scent of terror threatened to burn his eyes.

He dared not speak a word, fearful even the faintest whisper would turn his trail into phantom sensations, and he would be following nothing but an echo. A ghost of the woman he had lost.

Still, his shoulders were raised in determination, eyes narrow as he searched through overgrown shrubs and low-hanging trees, head on a swivel as the hand on his right side twitched, ready to reach for his sword if a threat made itself known.

"Please..."

It was a quiet whisper, a pleading whine. And that's how Geralt knew.

It was her.

He would recognise the melody of her voice anywhere. He could be holding onto this life by a thread, and her voice would the only thing he wanted. Needed.

Geralt broke out into a sprint, hand drawing out his sword as he feared what creature could have her so subdued by fear.

He came to a stumbled halt as he took the scene in ahead of his, hand tightening around his sword as a threatening sneer painted itself across his face.

There she stood with her back to him, she was dressed in leathers. They looked clean, neat. Next to her foot laid a single dagger, the hand that seemingly held it before had blood flowing from it, ruby pearls cascading down her fingers to seep into the damp soil.

The sight reminded him of the night with the ghouls, of how he had bled similarly before running to find her, only to miss her by a hair's breadth.

He had found her now.

But she was not safe.

Her back was to him, but he could see how her figure trembled in fear, a calloused hand twisted itself into the careless waves her hair had been flowing down her back in, a knife held to her throat as a man threatened her with a painful death, and forsaken torture.

It didn't take long for the pair to realise someone had joined them, and as the assailant took in Geralt's presence he twisted the girl harshly so her back was against his chest, the hand in her hair tugging her head back so he could press the knife harshly into her skin.

"Geralt."

Andromeda's eyes were wide, pupils blown by fear and mouth parted in surprise.

She looked... good.

She looked healthy, and had it not been for this moment he had stumbled upon, Geralt was sure she had been safe too. The hollows of her face had filled slightly over the months she had been gone. Her eyes no longer held an ache and were not weighed down by pain and longing. As though she had been eating properly, and was able to sleep through the night despite her fear of the dark.

"Rory..."

Her face shuttered at his whisper, drawing in a sharp breath as she ignored the threat of the man behind her and focused on taking in the man who stood in front of her.

Despite all his betrayals, all the hurt he had inflicted upon her, despite his harsh words and unprovoked actions, she found a weight lifting from her shoulders at the sight of him.

He looked ragged, as though he was worn down and tired. And some part of Andromeda was selfish enough to hope she was the cause of it.

A wince escaped her as the man pressed the knife harder against her throat, feeling a warm trickle down her throat, pooling at the hollow at the base of her nack.

A growl ripped from Geralt's throat, "let her go and I'll give you a quick death."

The man scoffed, "an' why should I do that? She's mine, I found 'er first. Get lost Witcher, we don' want y'r lot 'round here."

Geralt huffed in amusement, taking a step foward as he raised his sword higher in a show of promise, "what do you want? If not a quick death."

The man's eyes narrowed, his dark, bushy brows drawing into a frown and peeking past the strands of ebony hair that fell over his face in rivulets. His face had paled when he caught sight of the Witcher, but now it began to redden at the reminder of the cause of his indignation, "this bitch stole me silver. I need repayment, so 'm here t' get it. Been huntin' her down for weeks now, quick little brat, this one. Think I deserve a reward."

A leering smile stretched across the face of the gaunt man, the hand in her hair leaving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her further into him, pressing and feeling.

Andromeda screwed her eyes shut as nausea threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Geralt twisted his head, his heart roaring at the scent of fear that rolled off her in crashing waves, at her quiet whimpers and horrified glances.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a hefty bag he had been rewarded for a recent job he had been successful in. He threw it at the man's feet, wary to give into violence so soon, afraid his need for vengeance would only cause Andromeda more hurt.

No, first she had to be safe. Then he would do what his mind was screaming for him to when he first came upon the scene.

The man looked towards the bag in amusement, eyes dragging their way back to Geralt - "no amount of silvers goin' t' gimme what I need."

"And what do you need?"

"Her. Or her bits at least."

Geralt's heart thudded at his lecherous smile and travelling hands, face grim as he tried to think of a way to help without risking Andromeda getting hurt.

Andromeda spoke then, "then you'll let me go?"

Her voice was quiet, tainted with despair and dread. Geralt screwed his face up in anger and cut off the man with conviction before he spoke, "you won't touch her."

The man laughed unashamedly, head thrown back in glee, "already am Witcher, see."

His hands roved over her, dragging harshly from her waist to her stomach, spanning up to the valley of her breasts and tracing her throat before winding itself in her hair once more. All the while, Andromeda screwed her eyes shut, her stomach roiling in protest at the feel of his touch.

"It's okay, Geralt," there was a whisper of defeat as she looked at him, her eyes glittered as they pooled with expectant tears. The situation was too precarious, too unpredictable. She knew Geralt couldn't help her without risking her life, and a part of her felt envious when she thought of how he had succeeded in helping those who had been in much more vile situations than her own. A traiterous voice told her that if Yennefer had been in her place, he would have fought endlessly for her safety without hesitation.

But Andromeda was not Yennefer, and she didn't hold the same place in Geralt's heart that Yennefer did.

"It's okay," she repeated, her voice stronger despite the fact she felt herself breaking as the seconds passed. She would accept the fate ahead of her. She would pray for her survival and beg the Fates to allow her the strength to move past it and be better.

But if she were to succumb to death, she would walk into its welcoming arms with a relieved smile, "it's okay, Geralt," tears flowed down her face freely now, shoulders lowering as she forced her body to relax, "you'll be free." To love Yennefer, to be with her without guilt.

She had expected to find silent relief in his eyes or a sigh of understanding to escape past his lips. Instead, her words seemed to anger him. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to give her body and free will away simply because she thought he would be happy, ignited a blazing fire within him.

Geralt would fight endlessly for Yennefer. But he would wage wars for Andromeda. He would level cities and burn worlds in her name.

It was Andromeda who he pined for all these years, Andromeda whom he wished to pick but felt undeserving of, Andromeda who he was tied to so intricately that he revered the bonds which attached them with unadulterated adoration.

It was Andromeda. It has always been Andromeda.

Geralt nodded, his face expressionless as he lowered the arm holding his sword. The assailant fould himself straightening in surprise, baffled at how the Witcher had given up so easily.

Andromeda's face crumpled in a mixture of understanding and disbelief. It was what she had expected. She wasn't Yennefer.

Geralt lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees as he placatingly spoke, "I'm going to put the sword down, then I will leave."

The man didn't understand why Geralt would discard his sword before leaving. If Geralt accepted the assailant's terms, then he could leave freely with his weapon if he so wished.

He opened his mouth to speak as such, but a vicious roar escaped Geralt, one filled with grief and guilt and anger as his left hand was thrown forward from behind his back and a knife lodged into the dark-haired man's kneecap.

The assailant let out a wail of agony, falling to the ground harshly. He hadn't expected the pain, hadn't expected Geralt's harsh attack, so the knife fell freely from his hands without causing Andromeda much hurt.

She fell to the floor with the injured man, but before he could reach for her once more she leapt away from him, eyes wide in fear as she saw how he frothed at the mouth and spewed off slurs at both herself and Geralt.

Geralt didn't wait a moment longer, leaving his sword behind he lauched himself at the man. Geralt burned with rage, every scent and every sound a reminder of how close he was to losing Andromeda all over again.

He continued wailing on the man, every hit harder than the last, and his anger did not wane until the man took a rattled last breath. It was then he looked up to find Andromeda staring at him in stunned silence.

Andromeda should have been wary and fearful of Geralt. Her heart should have trembled as he stood to step over the crumpled corpse to stalk his way to her. She should have trembled and cried at the sight of him inhaling deeply, refamiliarising himself with her scent and the overwhelming bounds of emotions that spurted from her uncontrollably.

But as she reached towards his hand that was stretched towards her, palm up - staring at his raw and bleeding knuckles, at the spurts of blood which speckled across his face and the greasy strands of hair that fell across his face - she found herself bubbling in desire.

He had done this for her. To protect her.

She glanced towards the motionless body behind Geralt, hand finally enclosed in his own as he tugged her up to stand - he had killed for her.

He had killed for her.

Andromeda didn't have a chance to look into his eyes, to see the passion and fear and love that drowned his amber eyes. Instead, Geralt drew her into a shaky embrace, as though he couldn't believe she was standing in front of him, as though he couldn't believe he had found her.

When Andromeda didn't rear back from his gentle touches, he tightened his arms around her as a shuddered breath escaped him. He buried his head in the tresses of her hair, finding solace in the familiar scent of orange blossoms and jasmine as he i haled deeply. He tried commiting her form to memory, tried to memorise how her body melded into his own, how it fit against him.

But Geralt could spend an eternity with her in his embrace, and he would still yearn to hold her for longer.

Geralt stiffened at the feeling of a light caress against his back, it was a hesitant touch he soon recognised as Andromeda returning his embrace.

He could no longer help it.

Geralt of Rivia. Butcher of Blaviken. The White Wolf. The Witcher.

All of these twisted parts of his were warriors, stripped of emotions and imbued with skills and tactics.

Yet, in her warm embrace, his eyes began to burn as traiterous tears escaped.

Andromeda closed her eyes in quiet relief at the feeling of his tears against her head, hoping to cherish the moment before Geralt of Rivia replaced her Geralt.

Before Yennefer's Geralt took the place of her own.

"Come back."

Yennefer's Geralt never did come back, and Andromeda found herself wondering if he had even existed in the first play or if he had simply been a mask to hide Geralt's deeper feelings.

His voice was raw, it was quiet. Almost child-like, tinged with desperation as he held onto her tighter, fearful she would slip between his fingers once more.

"Come back, Rory," he pleaded, "come back to me. Come back with me."

She shut her eyes in agony, knowing every inch of her being begged her to say yes. But she knew better, after all this time, she knew better than to blindly say yes.

The truth was, over the last few months that she had been gone, there were no burning sensations that plagued her. There was no sign through her bond to Geralt displaying that he was laying with another.

Not even a burn of the lips like the one she had felt so many moons ago.

But she knew better.

"Do you love her?"

She had to know. She couldn't leave him without knowing, and she couldn't stay when she thought he did.

Geralt pulled back, hands reaching to cup her face as he pulled her face up to look at him, his eyes earnest as he spoke, "I did. Perhaps a part of me still does."

He saw the way her face crumpled at that, but he forced himself to continue, "but it's a thing of the past. I picked you. I pick you. I have every day since that night by the fire"

A harsh laugh escaped her as she tried to pull away unsuccessfully, "then why did you kiss her that night?"

He closed his eyes as he was overcome with guilt, "I didn't do it because I love her. I told her I wanted you, I needed you. She wanted to say goodbye. And it was wrong of me, I know, and I am so sorry, little one. But it is over, never to happen again."

"How can I believe you? You lied to me once already."

Her words were spoken defeatedly, but it caused determination to rise in Geralt. He brought a hand to reach for her own, placing her palm against his chest, against his heart - "ask me."

She looked at him in confusion, a small frown tugging at her lips, "what?"

"Ask me."

She knew what he meant, of course she did and she found herself breaking into a sweat as she tried to string her words together.

"Do- do you love me, Geralt?"

"Only you, only ever you." Andromeda could feel his thudding heart, the way it beat against its cage as he confessed the truth after so long, begging to bare himself to the girl. To show all his scars and faults, and plead with her to accept him and love him as he is.

She found her own heart began to beat in sync.

"It's only ever been you, Rory. You're all I ever want," he leaned closer to her, nose brushing against her own as his breath fanned over her mouth, the sensation causing blood to rush and tint her face a darkened pink. "I love you," the whispered confession came out at a rushing pace. He began echoing his words as he teetered between kissing her or letting her go.

Thankfully, heart satiated by the confession, spirits reignited, and doubts diminished, she looked at Geralt with eyes full of adoration. Her hands skimmed up the leathers of his arm, carressing over his broad shoulders before tickling up his neck as they took their place at the edge of his jaw, close enough to tug a few strands of hair as she dragged him closer.

Her tongue flicked out her mouth, lightly tracing the shape of his lips only a breath away, every accidental brush against his lips caused Geralt to flush red until his impatience got the better of him, "kiss me."

The demand was fulfilled with vigour as Andromeda soared up on her toes as Geralt leaned down. They met with a soft kiss, their lips gliding against each other as hesitance melted into passion, and they began to pour eons' worth of unreminisced desires into a single kiss.

The kiss caused their souls to brighten, a pleasurable burn racing through their body as the claim Geralt had made all those years ago sang harmoniously at their union.

Andromeda wasn't sure how long they had been kissing, but when she pulled back to gasp for air she found herself tucking back some loose strands of hair behind his ear, a shy smile bracing her face as she confessed, "I love you too."

"Come home, little love."

Home was where her heart lived, with her family. With a grumpy Witcher, a runaway princess, and a boisterous bard.

"Take me home, Geralt. Take me whever you go."

They stood there for some time, their heads leaning against one another, eyes closed as they basked in each other's presence.

Andromeda's hand found its way back to Geralt's chest, finding solace in the racing beats of his heart.

Geralt's hands had never left Andromeda's face, absentmindedly tracing the contours of her face, following every blemish and scar that graced her skin.

Soon night turned into dawn, and they looked at each other with renewed vigour in the golden light, drinking in the site of each other hungrily.

Geralt had found Andromeda.

Andromeda had found Geralt.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

[obstinaterixatrix]

Michi, plagued forever by her ability to see ghosts, pretends like she can't in order to avoid them at all costs. But recently she found a ghost she just can't ignore: Aizawa Honami, ex-classmate and ex-member of the famous idol group De:LPhinus, hanging around school from some lingering attachment.

Still, no matter what ghost it is, Michi's not getting involved. Though while she steels her heart, her eyes keep coming back to Honami's bizarre antics and passionate fanservice...(?)

happy femslash february, here’s an ongoing series about a dead idol. this is an interesting one, it’s 90% silly hi-jinx and 10% Grief/Horror™️—the first 5 pages do a great job of showing the range in tone for the series

it’s pretty cute and can be really funny, since the michi is Very Determined not to directly interact with ghosts, she ends up having to deal with. this.

michi sticks with the No Direct Interaction rule pretty strictly, so there’s a lot of focus on developing her relationship with other classmates. I think the writer balances everything very well—even when michi’s focused on other characters, aizawa’s always Very Relevant. and recently there’s been focus on how the other girls in the idol group are coping with grief, which has been super interesting

since the majority of the series is stupid shenanigans, the tonal contrast can hit insanely well—there was a page in chapters 12 and 16 that had me going like WOAH! SICK! but I don’t want to spoil it, so here’s an example that’s not too spoilery or disturbing

whatever’s going on, I’m prepared for something sad and fucked up to happen at some point. I mean, aizawa’s already dead, but things can always get worse!

[inhelluv]

❛⠀Famished 🫀

fic Hannibal Lecter × OC [ chapter 1 ]

tw for fic: cannibalism, horror, nsfw, gore, smut;

A woman needs to go through a tough psychological evaluation before she can get the freedom she longs for, but her 'psychiatrist' seems bent on bringing out the worst in her.

At some point during her adolescence, Rose was officially deemed a lost cause. On an ostensibly tranquil morning, one could find the girl bloodied in front of the principal’s office because she had violently bitten a classmate’s ear during a fight, or perhaps because she had stabbed another girl with a pen.

For reasons unknown to her, Rose was almost always angry. She would be angry at people for being happy, angry for being underestimated, and —mostly— angry for being alone. Even if it was her own fault.

The girl concluded that there was a 'monster' inside her, something evil that had possessed her body. Perhaps like Jekyll and Hyde?

Well, whether in the orphanage or at school, people always avoided her like the plague, and Rose certainly preferred it that way. At some point, she was committed against her will to a psychiatric facility; the girl despised that place, feeling like a caged animal time and again.

Rose had to learn to contain herself, to behave, to pretend she felt nothing in order to finally escape from what lay within her. She passed all the tests, swallowed all the pills they gave her, and smiled whenever it seemed necessary. Her last challenge now was a... psychiatrist?

Hannibal Lecter, some sort of renowned man who constantly aided the police in capturing psychopaths, serial killers, and other types of criminals. People like the thing 'inside' her.

( . . . )

"Rose? Are you ready?" whispered the nurse who accompanied her, standing before the door of the beautiful office of her unknown evaluator.

She glanced briefly at the policeman in the corner, standing tall and awaiting the potential 'outburst' that Rosa might have.

"I am."

The door opened. Rose couldn't contain her surprise. She had imagined her psychiatrist to be an old, bald man, perhaps grumpy and repulsive like the others she had met.

What she saw before her was a tall, elegant person in a suit, kind and curiously handsome. He smiled upon seeing her, and something in her chest resonated with the feeling of danger.

"Miss Rose, I presume. Please, come in," he said in a velvety tone, gesturing for her to enter.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Are you Doctor Hannibal?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow as she saw him blink softly.

"Most of the time, Miss."

Did psychiatrists really need to be so enigmatic? A genuine doubt arose, and she pressed her lips together to avoid saying anything petulant in front of them.

Once they were alone in the room, she sat in the chair, feeling the strange sensation of danger resurface.

"I read that you had some incidents in your youth. You bit off a classmate's ear..."

"I was angry. I regret what I did."

"Oh, you regret it?" Hannibal looked at her, a short smile on his lips.

"Do you find this amusing?" she asked, her gaze narrowing involuntarily.

"I do."

"I regret what I did back then," repeated, almost as if affirming it to herself.

He resumed reading, subtly curling his lip to one side, remaining silent as he tapped his foot lightly on the floor.

"You ate the boy's ear."

"I vomited seconds later."

"But you tried."

Rose gritted her teeth, clenching her fists in irritation. She had already said she regretted it; why did he keep bothering her with something that happened years ago?

"What kind of session is this?!"

"I want to help you, Rose."

A simple response, adorned with a smile from someone who gazed at her like a sage. They remained silent for the rest of the session, staring at each other in silent scrutiny, she had no idea what was going on in his mind, while Hannibal Lecter seemed determined to uncover what was happening in hers.

How was she supposed to convince him that she was sane?

( 🫀 )

It's been a while since I last wrote a fanfic, and I thought I could mix my little obsession with Hannibal into this project.

English isn't my first language, so please excuse any mistakes you might see in my writing T - T

[rkart221]

This will make no sense but eventually it will I promise

For context bc this is my first post, I have 3 tma ocs, Fletcher, Alice and Ivy, more lore will eventually come out about them though it will not be in order, like the Lyf tag Alice and Fletcher's relationship It's a very tricky one, and not the most healthy. The first time they met she hated him, seeing him just as a slob and wanting him to get out of her house. Within the events of TMA, he's all she has, her magnum opus, all she loves and all she needs but her biggest failure too. So! Let's discuss it! Alice is an interesting one. She was raised around the concept of fears and knows of them all too well. She, for this reason, knows how being aware of their existence effects someone. She's a very jealous person, jealous of all that got to live a normal life, have a normal childhood. Though she initially despised Fletcher, she grew to be almost obsessive with his normalness. She loved it. He was a breath of fresh air. A man untouched by the horrors that plagued the world and blissfully unaware of what hid within the shadows. When Fletcher first asked about her parents, and she lied with her response, he did not question her. All her life, being around other avatars, being apart of this giant chess game of the mind, his lack of suspicion, of any sort of reaction except taking it at face value. She loved it. Then later, when she had to admit she was lying about her parents he did not retaliate, understanding there was probably a reason behind her lack of truthfulness and never asking why she did what she did or who they were. It was almost addictive. She finds Fletcher's normallness, his lack of curiosity or suspicion somewhat contagious. When she's around him the fears do not exist, avatars do not exist. When she truly allows herself to relax in the moment Fletcher is the only one that makes her feel normal. Though this develops into a very strong poison. She is very defensive of Fletchers innocence. She tries very hard to not let him know anything of what she does and hides any affiliation with him in her work very well. The problem arises when Fletcher should very much know of whats happening. Her line of work is dangerous, and she's making enemy's with very powerful, very dangerous people. Though she knows its not hard to find Fletcher she pretends not to see, trying ti block out that thought fot the sake of protecting her delusional state of freedom when shes around him. This also doesnt help when she views him as less than. She loves Fletcher, very much there's no denying that but she does not see him as equal. She sees him more as a tool in a way, a means to release the stress of work and the horrors of the world. She cares about him but never enough to tell him. If it got between making him happy and comfortable and revealing her secret or letting unknowingly die, she would let him die. When she saves him from the notthem, or at least tries to it is more so for the sake of their child then Fletcher and she very much does not want to be around when he finds out so tries to save him in a way that means bailing herself. When they finally reunite in s5 they do not work out for this very reason. Alice cannot stand Fletcher knowing and understanding and constantly subconsciously undermines/ still conceals information from him even now he knows. It's more so a defense mechanism, trying desperately to make it go back to how it was before and when Fletcher finally stands his ground/ argues with her word, her opinion on him only sours.

Ty for reading, here she is for compensation

[preservationofnormalcy]

I think I got a curse cast on me.

It started about a month ago. I took the last jug of milk and some entitled prick asks me for it. Really getting up in my face and screaming at me. I kind of run off with the milk to the checkout and the prick screams something I don’t remember.

Come the next day, something is Wrong! I am a natural blonde. Imagine my shock when I look in the mirror and see my reflection staring right at me with wide eyes, and smiling blankly as she sings Barbie Girl. I quickly found out that I perceive all natural blondes (and their reflections) as staring at me with wide eyes and smiling blankly while they sing Barbie Girl. At first I thought it was a noosphere indent thing, so I took a month off work, and got rid of all my mirrors, and didn’t go outside to avoid making it worse. It didn’t help. Though it didn’t make it worse either, which is a relief. So, I’m asking you guys for help.

If I seem calm I am not. I am pretending to be calm.

Yeeep, that's a curse! And not just any curse.

This is a wizard or witch that remembers the late 90's Eurodance Plagues. In the cutthroat world of Eurodance in the early 90's, a lot of groups were turning to secretly baking memetic undertones into their music to be the catchiest and most dance-able. It was an underground arms race - the horror stories from His Majesty's Esoteric Services busting British extranormal dance halls after a full week of victims dancing nonstop are a hell of a thing.

There were so many novel cognitohazards flying around the airwaves as Eurodance made it to North America that the Office and Canada's RCOE worked together on what we now call the Scramblers - algorithms utilizing quantum random number generation to scramble the memetic undertones and render them undetectable to most human minds. They were installed on every radio broadcast tower, music production hall, and cassette manufacturer on the continent, and became fairly standard worldwide. Nowadays they’re a little outdated. Extranormal music is hard to fully control, what with Limewire and later Soundcloud, but I shudder to think of what would we do with another Haddaway on our hands without at least a base level of Scrambling.

Sorry, I ramble. Extranormal music is kind of fascinating. This curse is utilizing some of the same techniques, but should be pretty simple to remove. Not covered by most insurance though, sorry.

[rphelperblog]

Stalking Jack the ripper book quote rp meme

book series by Kerri Maniscalco - feel free to change or edit change pronouns for rp purposes

“Roses have both petals and thorns, my dark flower. You needn’t believe something weak because it appears delicate. Show the world your bravery.”

“I think you’ve broken one of my ribs. Was that really necessary? Next time you tackle me, be sure it’s in one of our bedchambers.”

“Everyone deserved to live freely and in honor of themselves. A basic right should not be a luxury.”

“She’s the muscle. I’m clearly the charm.”

“Curiosity was a disease that plagued me, and I'd yet to find a cure.”

“Hearts were beautifully fierce yet fragile things.”

“One fact was slowly taking shape: I was in jeopardy of admiring him against my better judgment.”

“If you can dream without limits, you can soar to great heights. Let the magic of your imagination set you free.”

“No matter how much death and horror existed, there were still things of beauty left to find.”

“You’re both so intelligent in matters involving the mind, but the heart? It’s as if beings from other galaxies are puzzling out fried potatoes.”

“Sometimes you need to stand out in order to blend in.”

“Life was beautiful even during the darkest hours.”

“Mistakes were a learning experience, not the end of the universe.”

“Monsters were supposed to be scary and ugly. They weren't supposed to hide behind friendly smiles and well-trimmed hair.”

“What is a man's soul made of that a woman's is not?”

“Diamonds were everything I hoped to be; beautiful, yet containing unimaginable strength.”

“The world is neither kind nor is it cruel. It simply exists. We have the ability to view it however we choose.”

“Our hearts are curious things. So sentimental and easily misguided. Pull the right strings or snap the correct cords, and poof!”

“Most stories are too good to be true. That's what makes them enchanting.”

“Magic is science. It’s simply a fancier term for showing people the impossible is attainable.”

“Let's play act a murder,”

“I’d like to see you carry on with a corset digging its bones into your rib cage, and manage a skirt still covering most of your breeches and whipping around your thighs in this wind.”

“Always foster and grow that unquenchable curiosity of yours."

“Perhaps you should comment on the excellent cut of my suit. I look rather handsome today as well. Don’t you think?”

“Pretend I am as capable as a man? Please, sir, do not value me so little!”

“Passion and annoyance were fire, and fire was alive and crackling with power.”

“I wondered how I could appear so whole and serene on the outside when inside I was thrashing with turbulence.”

“Do not turn your back on a love that could jump the barrier between life and death.”

How exceptionally wonderful for him. I wished them both a lifetime of misery with ill-mannered children. I swallowed my annoyance down and plastered on a smile. “

“Pretending a monster wasn't there didn't make it go away. It only made one vulnerable to its attack.”

“Let’s have some wine and dance inappropriately. You’ve already dressed the part for me—let’s take advantage.”

“For there are no limits to the stars; their numbers are infinite. Which is precisely why I measure my love for you by them. An amount too boundless to count.”

“Love strangles intelligence, even in the best of us.”

“Humans were the true monsters and villains, more real than any novel or fantasy could invent.”

“Monsters were in the eye of the beholder. And no one wanted to discover their hero was the true villain of the story.”

“I refuse to believe you've misinterpreted my affections. I am wholly in love with you. And it is permanent.”

“Monsters are only as real as the stories that grant them life. And they only live for as long as we tell those tales.”

“You are yours to give.”

“I’ve already fallen hard. Perhaps you should have warned me sooner.”

Most people ignore what’s right before their eyes. They believe they see, but oftentimes only view what they want

“Those who deserve respect are given it freely. If one must demand such a thing, he'll never truly command it.”

“There’s nothing better than a little danger dashed with some romance.”

“Fear is a hungry beast. The more you feed it, the more it grows.”

“I love you... More than all the stars in the universe. In this life and ever after. I love you.”

“Wield your assets like a blade. No man has invented a corset for our brains. Let them think they rule the world. It’s a queen who sits on that throne. Never forget that.”

“The dead speak to those who listen. Be quieter than even them.”

“Some ghosts should remain good and buried,”

“Seeing the truth was never easy, especially when it revealed those closest to us could be monsters hidden in plain sight.”

“People were always providing in death what they would not do in life, it seemed.”

“Someone screamed; perhaps it was me. Though it would have made me happier if it were him.”

“Death was not prejudiced by mortal things such as station or gender. It came for kings and queens and prostitutes alike, often leaving the living with regrets.”

So there will be no children or any beautiful paradise in our future. Most of the time I cannot even tolerate his presence. His arrogance is… I don’t know. Annoying.”

Your association with me is growing more beneficial by the hour. Your intelligence is quite… attractive,”

“Sit here and I’ll rock you gently until you or I or both fall asleep.”

“Why don’t you talk to me about what’s really troubling you? What emotional dilemma needs sorting out?”

No man has invented a corset for our brains. Let them think they rule the world. It’s a queen who sits on that throne. Never forget that. There’s no reason you can’t wear a simple frock to work, then don the finest gown and dance the night away. But only if it pleases you.”

“I needed no man to empower me. I had my father to thank for that much; his absence in most everyday things had prepared me well enough to stand on my own.”

“Whenever I scared him, he turned into some foreign person. One who was both frightening and frightened at once.”

“One needn’t be strong in only physical matters—a strong mind and will were fierce to behold as well. “

“Most people ignore what's right before their eyes. They believe they see, but oftentimes only view what they want.”

“If you wish to go, I’ll never make you stay. I might not do and say the proper thing all the time, but I do know that I love you enough to set you free.”

“We women could be called creatures, if only the men who said such careless words accepted our claws were fearsome things when we decided to scratch.”

[winterpinetrees]

Ishtar deals with other people (The Gap Years part 22)

July 3rd 2019

The elven capital

Ishtar Mercuralis has an empire to run, a conquest to plan, and three children to parent. Some other people in her life are making those things a bit more complicated. Not necessarily worse, but more complicated.

……………………………

“That would have been a simpler resolution, yes? Anticlimactic, but we’ve bigger plans”.  

Apex Ishtar Mercuralis and her High Council are back in the Problem Room, discussing what succeeded and what failed about the last ambush. She tries not to scowl at Devana for her bloodlust. The elf has a hatred of the human world, despite having hardly been. She briefly pretended to be a soldier and fought alongside a Soviet battalion during the Second World War. Apparently she enjoyed it, despite the horrors of industrialized war and being far too magically powerful to hold her vodka well. She still sometimes mutters in Russian or Kazakh but doesn’t like others mentioning it. Devana’s loyalties are towards keeping humans in their place, not trying to drag their society out of Lazarus’s dead hands and into a kinder future. However, she gave that woman a council seat for a reason. Devana has a genuine talent for reducing other people to problems that need to be solved. Marin is a problem, but Ishtar would prefer if they could capture him alive. 

What worked about the ambush: Amedi used their tracker’s mark to find the exact location of the party,  mostly by seeing a sign through the human girl’s eyes. They then spread out their troops to block every exit, and confronted the heirs once they left the next morning. 

What did not work: The five of them easily fought off their attackers. 

In addition, the last soldier, a commoner with minimal training, shot Marin with a concussion rifle set to kill. The prince is alive, but if he’d ducked at the last second they’d have a corpse to deal with instead of a missing royal. It would certainly have been simpler that way. 

“The ambush was only about a hundred miles away from old gens Adust territory,” Amedi adds. “Do we think that they’ll hide with Zerada’s family?”

“Who’s even left?” Devana replies with a signature fanged grin. She’s been overseeing the keeping of prisoners, and knows full well who they’ve left free. 

“Many people, actually. We didn’t bother with most of the elves cut from the line of succession by the last renewal,” Ryn has a very matter-of-fact way of talking about noble matters, like it’s still foreign to him. The old Voyager quite literally could not get closer to noble matters. He sired a prince. “The scions will likely be more problematic, and all of the commoners who have gotten attached to the human world and aren’t thrilled about a plan to cull the population like they’re invasive sea urchins”. 

Ishtar winces theatrically. The plague is a plan they’ve inherited and all agreed to keep.

They turn back to other matters, but Ishtar’s mind continues to circle around their plans. She’s been reading and watching human speculative fiction since Ryn gave her a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. (The novel was in French, which apparently all Storm Coast Voyagers knew but she didn’t. Her new position was slow compared to the Conservatory though, and with magic it wasn’t too difficult to learn). The alien invasion stories came a few decades after. There were shapeshifters who could assume human forms like ancient human stories of changelings and gods, or like the elves who helped inspire those myths. There were stories centered around sheer firepower, no doubt inspired by brutal human conquests of their own world. Then there was plague. 

She pointed the frequency of stories about disease out to Gullin when they first decided to risk a coup. He’d been working in his own laboratory then, smoothing out a few new mutations. She’d vaguely mentioned a time travel film and asked if all these movies would be a sort of cultural practice against a real plague. He’d laughed -genuinely laughed because while Devana can see anyone as a problem to be solved, Gullin sees all humans as data points and toys- and in turn vaguely mentioned the sheer scale of the HIV/AIDS pandemic to shut her down. 

Gullin is a conscientious councilor, probably because he wanted nothing to do with the nobility in his youth. The doctor likely only survived the coup that destroyed Ishtar’s family because he was off practicing medicine with commoners and no one, himself included, imagined that he would ever hold power. He didn’t begin this plague scheme, though he would have loved to, but he’s been with it since it was renamed to Project Diasu to please traditionalists. All he does is oversee the project. Well, he’s been refining a breed of domesticated human for the past several centuries, but Ryn might punch him if he mentions that or any of his less legal hobbies, so that topic usually stays out of the Problem Room. She’s starting to think that Ryn loves Amedi so much because they’re the only other councilor with politics he can stand.

With perfect timing, the youngest councilor swears and slams a fist on the table. Ryn mutters to be careful around the projectors. Any tech that can last around palace magic is a pain to fix. 

“Someone is trying to break my spell!” 

Ishtar turns to look at them. Amedi’s eyes are a violent red and their face is twisted with effort. 

 “Someone?” 

“An old elf. Powerful. Warm colored magic”. They glare at the papers strewn across the table. “Probably an Adust. I’m going to use psychological warfare”.

Ryn blinks “What?”

“I am going to make that old man regret messing with politics that so kindly left him alone,”

“Amedi, projecting a traumatic mental image will also hurt you,” Devana says, keeping her voice level and disinterested. 

“It’s been in my brain for thirty years. I’ll be fine!”

Ishtar waves to Alyse, their middle-aged seneschal, and tells her to have Arjuna make an extra pot of tea tonight. They should also go fetch Esther. The High Council are a few steps behind the missing heirs, but her family are also a few steps behind the raging wildfire that is Amedi’s mind. She adds her voice to the shouting match trying to get Amedi to do anything else and sighs when they grit their teeth and unleash something horrible across their mental link. Amedi slumps back into their seat, looking satisfied as though this was a legendary sacrifice instead of bad planning. 

“It worked!”

The four of them clarify they should never do it again. 

Ishtar takes a breath. Was she like this in her hundred-twenties? (She was teaching herself French to read a book her crush gave her). Ishtar sends Amedi out of the Problem Room as soon as Esther arrives. They are being sent on an apex-mandated break. Esther must not let them drink any more coffee until tomorrow morning. The rest of the council, in all their worlds-shaping glory, only laugh a little. 

It’s not worth it to bother chasing the heirs now. Humans may be endurance hunters, but elves know to wait for opportunities. The heir has lost his momentum. They’ll catch him soon. 

……….

Alyse is too secretive for an ideal seneschal. Maybe she wasn’t socialized properly or maybe it was a matter of genetics, but Ishtar thought the girl would grow out of it when she chose her twenty years ago. Alyse didn’t, but she can relay orders and keep an empire running. Her husband gets the message to make an extra pot of tea. It’s not for guests. Amedi is surely sulking in their quarters or practicing archery to feel productive. It’s for her, because life and death she’s had a day and her family are going to hear as much as they can. 

They all sit around the table where they sometimes play games. It’s an ancestral piece of furniture, and a bit taller than it should be to fit colossal Mercurali. The three kids sit on mismatched cushions on the carved chairs, and Devana carried over a higher chair the one night she came to join them. Gullin is a more frequent visitor. He lost all of his own children, one way or another.

Amedi might as well be another cousin for the kids, and they’re all amused to hear that they’d been put in timeout. She skips over anything too boring or disturbing for children (warnings issued to Betrayed enclaves who refused to follow the new edicts), and shares the story of how the prince got himself shot. The three of them are going to grow up as the first generation to rule the human world. Wilders are fanatical and easily swayed, but the first few centuries of unification are going to be rough. She needs them to know that humans, like all animals, are most dangerous when cornered. That’s the excuse she gives about all the human media she watches. It’s educational and shows how wild humans view themselves and imagined conquerors. 

“What’s going to happen to the soldier?” Chandra asks. He’s her older son, quiet except when he’s befriending enemies. He has his father’s silver eyes, but Ishtar doesn’t think his kindness comes from blood. 

His younger brother, Fen, is more in tune with how things are. “If he’s a commoner, well, not a noble commoner like Pa, but a common commoner, he’ll just get sent home,”

If he’d killed Marin, his unknown name would be published on a casualty list, and some Lazarin loyalist would probably kill him by the end of the year. Luckily for the soldier, the heirs are alive and he’ll just be discharged for failing to stay calm under pressure. 

“Tar, you should send for him once the unification really gets going. No one will mind a few accidental casualties then,” Arjuna says. 

Everyone turns to stare. Ryn sets his tea down on the table. “Now that isn’t very nice”.

“We’re not very nice,” Arjuna curls his hands into claws and growls like a cat (a skill that every member of a Genus with a feline symbol learns). The children laugh. They distantly know about his old job, but he’s a father first and a killer second. His past was hardly in the picture at all until a few months ago, but he earned a dozen more marks for his vambrace in the coup that he couldn’t explain away with elaborate stories. She also decided to be honest about the stakes of the coup before they attacked, no matter how much the conversation hurt. 

She sighs. Her husband is many things. He is graceful and loving and knows every birdcall around their home. He is not good at talking. “Your dad is right. It’s not always good to be nice. Someone can be nice, but hide awful things. Lazarus did that, and everyone followed him. You need to be kind, and strong”. Arjuna and Ryn look at each other sheepishly.

Fen elbows his brother. “ ‘Ra is too nice. He’s spending all his time with Maven”

“You could come with me? Mav is nice too”. 

Suen giggles and points. “That means he’s trying to trick you!”

Chandra looks betrayed (hurt, not betrayed. Do not even think about one of them being Betrayed). “No! he’s not! He’s my friend!”

Ishtar starts to wonder whether she should break this up. He continues. “Maybe Hierax is trying to trick you into falling off the roof!” Suen's eyes flare indigo with some complex preteen girl emotion, and all three adults move with all of their elven speed. 

There is a reason why high nobility try to not have more than one child a decade. Maybe the advice should be wider. Three kids learning magic at once is not something she’d recommend. 

………

The time travel plague film that Ishtar once watched is 12 Monkeys. 

Arjuna is Ishtar's husband and Ryn is Ishtar's best friend who also fathered one of her children. This is normal enough by noble standards.

[yuripoll]

KNOCKOUTS: I See You, Aizawa-san! (2022 - ?)

I See You, Aizawa-san! is a comedy series by Odoroo Dorothy about a girl who can see ghosts and her teen idol classmate who recently died.

Michi, plagued forever by her ability to see ghosts, pretends like she can't in order to avoid them at all costs. But recently she found a ghost she just can't ignore: Aizawa Honami, ex-classmate and ex-member of the famous idol group De:LPhinus, hanging around school from some lingering attachment. Still, no matter what ghost it is, Michi's not getting involved. Though while she steels her heart, her eyes keep coming back to Honami's bizarre antics and passionate fanservice...(?) - Mangadex

No ENG release (yet) & JP available at Comic Valkyrie.

CWs under the cut. General severity rating: mild to mod.

no sexual content (its ongoing, so obligatory "yet", but i don't get the impression its going there)

horror elements, particularly some relatively tame gore/body horror with ghost designs

non-consensual kiss in ch8

mention of animal (cat) death in ch9

while the series is, at this point, generally light-hearted, there's the suggestion of darker themes, and you get the impression it will touch on more serious themes as it does on.

[vickyvicarious]

i don't know what specific moment this reminds me of, BUT: everything goes on - porter robinson

"When you meet me in the daylight like we did before Then I felt you on my shoulder, and you weren't suffering anymore You said, "I'm sorry that you worry", but don't apologize I told you to forget me, but you stayed by my side" i can't quite put my finger on it but, despite the melody, this song's lyrics have SOME dracula vibe that i just don't know which set of characters to pin down on.

Oh, I know exactly which set of characters: Lucy and Arthur.

At least, those are the vibes I'm getting. You could make some of it work well for Jonathan and Mina too, but I think it fits these two near perfectly. There's a kind of sad, wistful resignation to the feel of the song which fits with Lucy knowing she's getting worse and perhaps won't make it to their wedding. Admittedly the singer is the same all throughout and the lyrics alternate a bit between who fits best as their POV.

The "don't try to make yourself remember" can be Lucy to herself in a way, about the horrors lurking just outside her reach. But it can also be something she wants to tell Arthur about her after her death, a kind of 'please find happiness without me' wish. The lines "well, you were staring at the window / and I said, "I wanna take you to the sea, / and when I'm better we'll do everything" / (I gotta stop making promises I can't keep" fit so well with Arthur not having been able to join them at Whitby, and Lucy trying to so hard in the early days in London to hide/ignore her own illness and wanting to go out and do things with him. "Someday I'll be overcast / but you won't have to cry / cause we'll do the grieving / while I'm by your side" is so sad because that's exactly what they didn't get to do! He didn't get to be by her side as she was dying, not right up until the very end when she was too weak to really speak. But a part of me imagines Lucy saying that to herself about the feeling that Arthur is with her when she's got his blood transfused in. She was feeling better afterwards but may still have been scared about the future, and comforting herself a little like this, I don't know...

The repeated "don't look for me, I'm just a story you've been told" alters to Lucy not wanting Arthur to have to face the truth of what she's become at the end - a vampire. It would kind of fit with her wanting Van Helsing to protect Arthur and a final sad match of trying to spare a loved one pain which has plagued her storyline throughout. "When we're gone / everything goes on" again for him moving on after her death...

After that point I feel like the lyrics shift to Arthur's POV for the next few lines. He's the one who sees her "tethered in your room", he's the one who would want to "bring the sea to you"... "Will you meet me in the daylight / like we did before? / then I felt you on my shoulder / and you weren't suffering anymore" becomes a really sad lyric about his thoughts after staking vampire!Lucy. But then it kind of shifts back to Lucy again apologizing for making him worry, she's the one telling him to forget her, he's the one remembering and wanting to pretend a little longer after she's dead, but everything goes on still and he has to carry on living without her...

[moodr1ng]

like prev post is one example i happen to be talking about for once but ig what i mean is like. every little small inconsequential thing that my mind could turn into "you look suspicious right now", that i could possibly suspect means someone thinks poorly of me (w no evidence of that whatsoever), that i can possibly twist into somehow being about how Everyone Secretly Hates Me And Thinks Im A Liar And A Fraud, i will. the most minor things. every day of my life. i am plagued by a constant fear that everyone thinks im always lying, that everyone is always suspecting me of Something, all the time.

every time i go to the pharmacy to pick up my completely normal mental health medications i think "the pharmacist thinks im a malingerer whos faking mental illness to try and get drugs". when they ask "thats two boxes right?" im terrified of saying "yes", even though yeah, my prescription is for two boxes of these meds, bc if i say "yes, give me two boxes and not one", its gonna be confirmation that im a liar whos just trying to get more meds. even though thats. literally just what im prescribed.

its like that about everything. i have to overperform truthfulness at all times, because just knowing im telling the truth isnt enough, i also have to convince everyone else that im telling the truth, all the time, because Everyone Always Thinks Im A Liar in my mind. if i, like, tell a friend on discord "going to bed now!" and then while getting ready for bed i make one last post on tumblr like 5 minutes later i think "my friend is gonna see this and think i lied about going to bed and that i was trying to avoid them on purpose because im a bad friend". if i tell someone about a condition i have i assume they doubt i actually have it and think im lying for attention. if i tell people im bigender and they react with total acceptance i think "theyre actually thinking im obviously just a binary man who is lying about being bigender so i can intrude upon women in some way, but they cant say it bc they dont want to look transphobic". if i tell people about abuse i suffered as a child and they react with horror and compassion i think "theyre thinking im making it up or exaggerating so i can get pity, theyre just forced to pretend they believe me to not be rude". if im having a mental health episode and someone is concerned about my well being i think "they think im doing this on purpose and putting on a show to force them to take care of me". and if i try to tell my therapist about symptoms im experiencing i think "he thinks literally everything i say about my mental health is a lie i tell so i can get on disability and get meds, so i have to hide part of my symptoms from him because the less i tell the less suspicious i am". i literally cant discuss this very belief w my therapist because i am convinced that if i told him "im constantly terrified that everyone, including you, thinks im lying about everything so i can get attention or some other benefit" he would think "ah, my liar patient is claiming that hes afraid of being seen as a liar to throw me off his scent. this is actually more proof that hes lying, hes laying down the precedent that hes not a liar in order to cover further lies".

all the time. all the time. and i cant make it stop. and i cant talk about it because i think anyone i tell about this is going to think "ah, yes, The Liar is insisting shes not a liar, which only a liar would do". i literally think anyone reading this very post is going to think "youre talking about this too much, youre trying too hard to come off as truthful, obviously youre trying to cover up your lies, in fact this very post proves you do lie about being mentally ill and abused and you lie to your therapist to get drugs and you probably stole that girls bonnet too, everything you say you didnt do is just a preemptive cover for having done it".

but well. if i keep refusing to talk about it im only feeding it. because the more i avoid talking about it to not trigger it, the more i reinforce the idea that "if i talk about it, everyone will turn against me" as legitimate. so, whatever, i guess. im just very tired, you know. i wish it would stop sometimes. i wish i could trust that anyone regards me in good faith. i think it also sucks of me to assume the worst out of everyone like this - to just think everyone is out to get me or always regarding me in the worst possible light. idk. i just wish i could make it stop. ill make an effort to finally tell my therapist tomorrow. but idk if ill have the guts yet.

[antihibikase2]

Velveteen Rabbit

Out of all the stories you were told as a child, the tale of the Velveteen Lopunny was one that always brought you to tears- a beautiful story of a beloved toy, one that turns grim at the mention of an illness befalling one of its main characters. 

You hated that story.

You hated it so much that you didn’t know how it ended.

You did not care if it made the Velveteen Lopunny real.

It needn’t suffer for such a thing to be accomplished. 

All you knew was that, eventually, the stuffed doll had to be taken away from the child who owned it, to be burned to ashes as to prevent the spread of the plague.

Just thinking about it made your body tremble, in hatred of the cruelties of the world and all its injustices- to subject a faultless being to such a fate, as if punishing them for a crime they did not commit..

It sickened you to your stomach.

So much so that you recall refusing to leave your house the day after you were told that story in daycare. It upset you so much that your teacher had to come over and formally apologize.

But it was not enough. 

She was only the messenger, she could not alter the fate of the Velveteen Lopunny, the fate you wished to change.

Embarrassing as it may be to remember now, you remember your parents humbly requesting for that story to never be repeated.

And little Cheri was such a quiet child, always so behaved, never making too much of a fuss. 

Ideal, compliant, obedient.

Like a little doll. 

Like the little toy from the story.

Accepting of its fate. 

Unquestioning. 

Innocent.

Your parents’ request was honored as a result. 

Anything for little Cheri, who did not ask for too much.

Looking back now, you felt awful for the way you reacted, but you could still feel your heart drop when you think of faux velvet burning to a pile of ashes, never to be held or to be loved again.

Even when you were a young teen, when you pretended to be understanding of the velveteen Lopunny’s fate, tried to argue with yourself that it was for the best- you knew that was not what you wanted deep down, no matter how logical it may be.

And perhaps, it was not just because your heart was soft.

Deep down, maybe you were aware of the horrors you would be subjected to, the role you were forced to play.

And just like the stuffed rabbit, beloved and real, you would be taken away from those who adored you.

You would not be given a quick and easy death, to be discarded into the flames.

Why would that be the case? 

You were special after all.

The narrative’s beloved gift.

The favorite.

The stitches that hold the seams together are slowly cut, one by one, until you unravel like a present and bare your insides for the world to see; the pure white cotton stuffing, almost like snow, spills onto the floor and melts into a puddle.

And you find that your velveteen skin is not velveteen at all, but pretty porcelain not meant to be loved or to be cherished, only to be worshiped as an ornament, away from prying hands. 

Your cotton stuffing slips through your fingers, unlike gentle and soft pieces of cloud, and you find that your cotton stuffing is a liquid that stains your fingers with a deep dark red.

For all your heartbreak and sentimentalities that laid with the beloved toy, you found yourself as nothing more than an accessory for all of eternity, your mere existence to be admired rather than to be loved.

And if you were not meant to be loved, you were not meant to be real.

When you hear of the tale of the Velveteen Lopunny once more, a hushed story whispered to your students, you wished you hadn’t been so upset when the ending is revealed to you, just as the truth had.

You find yourself only regretting that now, as you stare at your blood-stained hands, hands that turned a deathly white.

...

Even if the doll was taken away from the child, to be burned to ashes with the rest of their belongings, its wish had come true and it was reborn.

The same could not be said for pretty porcelain dolls, whose value and existence vanished the sooner that cracks started to show on their perfect forms.

[lynnarang]

A Family Found 6

Fleeing from home and love, a hunter spends her final mortal days stifling her bloodlust and drowning out the voices from beneath her skin.

Days turned into weeks turned into months of solitude. After escaping the witch's estate, she had set off to travel as far as she could manage in as little time as possible. She couldn't risk any of them seeing what she was becoming.

Part of her still pretended it was because she was afraid she'd hurt them, and while that fear wasn't nonexistent, the main thing driving her was… shame. She'd entered their lives, become someone they felt they could grow close to and rely on, and now she was falling apart.

So she ran, avoiding the main roads and all signs of civilization, eating meager meals of small game and foraged berries each evening, all while the whispers scratching at the insides of her skin steadily grew louder.

The voices spoke truths and lies that would break a mortal mind.

Her sleep was restless, each evening plagued by nightmares of unfathomable landscapes populated with horrors far worse than any she had hunted…

Horrors she sometimes glimpsed in her own reflection

She'd been warned of such dreams during her apprenticeship, by the graying huntress with the confident smile she once called teacher.

The Old Blood gave great power to those who partook in it, but it also demanded a heft toll in return.

Witchblood.

A powerful witch could keep a hunter's thirst sated for a decade or longer, but it was rare for a hunter to be desperate enough to go after one and even rarer for them to succeed. Most chased witchlings or hunted in packs, merely staving off the inevitable.

When a hunter of the Old Blood failed to drink sufficient Witchblood, their mind deteriorated while their body… What was it she had said would happen to their body?

It was so hard to think these days. What had once been mere whispers now sounded like constant chatter.

Claws around her stomach dragged the hunter back down to reality. The thirst had grown so strong, even though her body was physically healthy she felt like she was dying with each step. She needed to drink, needed to bite into a witch's jugular and gorge herself on their warmth.

It wouldn't be so hard. She knew the way past the wards, the dolls wouldn't raise an alarm, and somehow she knew that even if she realized what was happening the witch wouldn't even resist as her teeth sunk in. She just had to-

With a loud crunch, the hunter realized she was standing over a hastily cleaned campsite, her own from some nights ago. How long had she been lost in her hunger that she'd turned around completely and made it this far back? Hours, days, longer?

"It's no good…"

She mumbled aloud to herself, her tired voice slippery and wrong. If she continued traveling who knows how long it would be until she found herself turned around again. This would have to be far enough. She reached back to take off her travel pack and froze.

Her arm, if it was even hers any longer, was much larger than it should have been, covered in coarse matted fur. Blood dripped from claws that should have been where her fingers were located.

When, how, where…?

She screamed, but it came out as bloodcurdling roar.

Everything was wrong. So wrong.

Hadn't the sun been up moments earlier? Whose blood was she covered in? What was this hideous scent waving through two sets of nostrils? She reached for the game she had been roasting moments earlier, and felt her mind and stomach lurch in unison.

When she had skewered this and put it over the fire it had been a rabbit, but now she clearly saw a human arm, blood glistening in the moonlight. Nononono, that was wrong, wrong wrong wrong.

She couldn't- that wasn't what she-

The voices grew louder, shouting over her thoughts.

One and many, many and one. A language she shouldn't know, words that her throat shouldn't be able to form, and yet, and yet, and yet.

Everything broke at once.

A beast wailed and lamented for reasons it couldn't remember, teeth sinking into flesh that was nowhere near enough.

In the inn of a nearby town, a terrified merchant bolts inside, covered in the blood of the rest of his caravan.

"A beast! A horrible, foul beast lives in the duskwood forest!"

"A beast? Here?!"

"Someone get the doctor!"

"Call the hunters! Don't let it get away!"

The beast knows it will be hunted, but it does not flee. Its body is not done metamorphosing, its mind not fully restructured. A harmonious chorus strings itself through its thoughts now, emitting from its throat whenever its flesh parts to let it sing freely.

A song of rebirth.

Somewhere and nowhere, both close and far, a witch hums along to the tune, a pair of dolls trailing behind her on each side.

Finally, she was on the right track.