#some guy nest to mare

[imjulia-andilikecats]

Cal and His Way of Displaying Jealousy

As few and far between were the moments when Cal expresses his jealousy and even possessiveness towards Mare. Those scenes are still quite memorable to me, not because "Ahhh, Cal is so cute when he's jealous," but more for how he reacts depending on the character at the scene.

For example:

Cal emitted a warning heat wave when Kilorn was holding Mare's arm, cause he was trying to say something to Mare. He knew that Kilorn was Mare's friend, but it was also their first time meeting, + he was delaying their departure. So, Cal, who was just being "protective" (✌️and not at all developing a crush on Mare✌️), had to make Kilorn back off from her.

We then have this iconic moment in War Storm when Tyton simply placed a gun on Mare's belt, and both immediately felt Cal's signature heat wave. Tyton backed off, amused and Mare absolutely pissed.

Based on these two scenes, it's clear that when Cal gets jealous, he makes it loud and VERY clear that he doesn't want them near her.

However, when Maven and Mare were quietly talking on the balcony moments before the Sun Shooting. Cal interrupted them to inform them that they are being summoned. When she passed by Cal, he only grazed her shoulder. It wasn't even angry jealousy, just sad longing.

When Cal walked in on Maven kissing Mare on the boat. Again, no heat waves, just him being stone-faced and sad.

Cal had no problem keeping other characters away from Mare if he thought they were standing too close to her, but he could never do that to Maven.

As much as Cal is very much in love with Mare and wants her more than anything else on this Earth.

Cal loves Mavey the most.

If Maven told Cal that he had feelings for Mare. Cal would have backed off, kept his distance from Mare. Cause he would rather longed and pined for Mare for the rest of his life than see his baby brother look at him with betrayal and disappointment.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IK UR writING OTHER STUFF RN SO EEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS BUTTTTTTTTTT LIIKE I WANTED TO SHARE MY BRAINROT (idk if u do a/b/o so here's the warning my idea is weird and smutty and dark and if you don't like that or are uncomfortable please don't feel pressured to read further! I completely understand)

i cant get out the idea of being in an a/b/o universe where your rhysand's omega (but like in a pack way and you guys haven't done anything yet) and yk alphas are all about dominance and stuff so imagine one day you accidentally do something in front of cass and az and him like not obeying him to come to him when he asks and he just decides right then and there he needs to make u submit to him which leads to Rhys fucking u into submission Infront of azz and cass but like in a sweet 'i need u to obey me darling" way

anyways ur a great writer and I love ur werewolf works! hope my idea make u stay up at night thinking about it <333

I love getting fic requests! Sometimes I get too hyper focused on finishing a project that I forget to have fun with it and requests help get me out of my head, so send as many as you like! <3 (And yes this one literally kept me up last night thinking about it lmao)

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Claimed

Warnings: Possessive!Rhys, Dominate!Rhys, SMUT, Voyeurism, A/B/O dynamics.

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A blaring base rattles the windows, the cabin shaking under the heavy thrum of music from one of Azriel's club playlists. The sensual beat has the pack pushing the worn furniture in the living room up against the walls to make room for an impromptu dance floor. There's more than one pack here tonight, all cramming into the den for a monthly party that has an endless stream of booze and mirthroot that would put RIta's to shame. The pack likes to party and they don't like to do it alone.

Rhysand has rules in place of course. One: Visiting Alphas have to stay ten feet apart from each other, any hint of a fight equals immediate expulsion from this party and any other future event; usually this keeps the visiting packs in line--there are few places in Illyria that come with this much free booze and a chance for social climbing, they won't risk a misstep. Two: The upstairs bedrooms are off limits for everyone outside the pack; no one else's scent enters his domain. For it is his, and his alone. Don't let the fact that Azriel and Cassian are a rare pair of Alphas allowed to run with the pack fool you, the pack answers to Rhys and Rhys alone. And Third, and most important: Omegas are off limits.

You think he made this one specifically for you, and not just because Azriel had seemed surprised when it had been implemented, but because Rhys always made sure you were close by. You want a drink? Rhys grabs it from the fridge for you, making sure he's the only one that pops the lid off the bottle before it touches your hands. Want to dance? You have three acceptable partners: Amren, Mor, or Rhys. Cassian had asked you once, Rhys had nearly ripped out his throat in response. The poor Alpha had slept outside for a week afterwards.

Which would be an acceptable response if Rhys was your Alpha. If his claiming mark adorned your throat and you'd moved all your stuff into his room, getting your nest ready for your next heat. But he isn't. Yes, he'd found you in the Hewn City, about to be auctioned off like a breeding mare and saved you; had brought you into the pack and made you feel safe and welcome and cared for. All things you were a stranger to, especially without a price. He never asked anything of you. When that first heat had hit you he'd offered you some of his shirts to nest in and brought food and water to your door, but he'd never come in. Never touched you like you wished he would. He was the pack's Alpha, but he'd never claimed you as his Omega.

You've tried to make your peace with it, tried to tell yourself that he just doesn't want you like that, but then he comes up with these rules and gets defensive when anyone gets too close to you. It's infuriating! He can't have it both ways. Either he wants you as a pack mate, or he wants you as his mate. He can't have both.

You cannot take him trying to have both any longer! His scent drives you mad, makes the wolf within you whimper and preen, yearning to be touched and claimed and taken the way you sometimes think he wants to. Sometimes he looks at you like he plans to devour you whole and you'd happily lie down and bare your throat and body to him if only he would make a move.

You've decided tonight's the night. Your heat will be here soon enough. If he's not going to make a claim on you than he needs to let you find someone who will.

You know of course that it won't be Azriel or Cassian. They'd never dare make a move on you with Rhys as protective of you as he is. That doesn't mean you won't have a little fun with it.

You wait, let the night draw out, spending the first part tucked into Rhys's side like a good little Omega. He brings you cold beer whenever you ask, makes sure your part of every conversation he gets pulled into. Then you slip away to dance with Mor, the heavy thrum of the base a pulse that echoes in your veins as you sway and dance along with her. The Beta keeps her hands on your hips, always keeping a respectful gap between your bodies like she too is scared of what Rhys might do to her if she gets any closer. You feel his eyes on you like a brand the entire time.

You wait as long as possible to catch his eye, and feel yourself flush as that violet gaze drags over every inch of your body when you do. He takes his full lip between his teeth as he watches your hips sway to the beat. But he doesn't move away from the wall to come get you, just watches with laser focus to every movement your body makes.

You let him watch for awhile, intentionally shaking your ass when Mor spins you, or making sure you run your hands slowly over your chest when you know he's looking.

Still, he doesn't move to come get you.

So you move into the next phase of your plan. You're poking the beast by doing this. But you walk right up to where Azriel leans against the far wall, chatting animatedly with Cassian about some fight or another with as much confidence as you can muster.

"Need a new dance partner!" You declare.

Azriel shoots Cassian a look, dark brows raised underneath the thick curtain of onyx hair that falls into his face.

"You know the rules," Cassian says, waving a bottle in your face like a disapproving finger. "Go find Amren or Rhys."

You stick out your lower lip. "But I want to dance with you."

"How unfortunate, 'cause you're being summoned," Azriel retorts, gesturing with his chin to where Rhys stands in the kitchen, arms folded over his broad chest.

You can feel the disapproving glare from there, the heat in it making a shiver run down your spine. Rationally, you know that you should give up while you're ahead, but you need a decision to be made. You need to know if he wants you as badly as you want him.

You force yourself not to turn to look at him, your hands shaking as you say, "I don't see why he's being so intense about this. What's the harm? We're friends, aren't we?"

Azriel snorts in disbelief.

"Yes, we are friends," Cassian says tersely.

"Don't tell me you want something more than that, Cass?" You tease, batting your eyelashes at him with more confidence than you feel.

The Alpha's cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

"You're his," Azriel says gruffly, leaving no room for an argument.

You push your hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing over your unmarked throat. "I don't see a claim anywhere, do you?"

"Now you've done it," Cassian mutters, pressing himself flat against the wall like the old wood might open up and swallow him.

You've lost sight of Rhys in your peripherals, so when his hand suddenly locks around your exposed throat and yanks, you're woefully unprepared. His body is hard and warm against your back as he pulls you flush against his chest, breath hot as he brings his lips to your ear.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He growls.

You shiver under the dominance in his tone, under the sheer possessiveness in his touch. This is what you've wanted; this is what you've been waiting for.

"Just having a chat with the boys," you stutter. His hand is large enough that it encircles your throat like a necklace; he fits against you like it's right where he belongs.

"She asked us to dance," Azriel tattles and you shoot him a glare you don't really mean.

"You know the rules, Little One." His lips haven't left the spot next to your ear, mouth so close to where you want him to be. If he would only dip his head just a little and sink his fangs into your throat! He would be yours and you would be his and you would happily surrender to all these stupid rules if it meant you didn't have to question why he constantly left you in limbo about his feelings towards you.

"Maybe I just don't see the point to your stupid rules."

Cassian's eyes widen with a healthy enough dose of fear that your heart skips a beat in your chest.

His hand tightens just enough to make you gasp a little, a mirthless chuckle slipping past his lips. "What was that?"

"That's my queue to leave," Azriel says.

"No, stay. Want you here for this, Az," Rhys returns, but there is a lethal edge in his voice.

"Now, Darling, why don't you tell me exactly what you think about my stupid rules?"

You're in too deep now to get out of it. You swallow the lump in your throat, or try to, the pressure of his hand around your neck makes your head buzz. It's not like he hasn't let you cuddle up against him on the couch, hands tracing shapes into your skin, but he has never held you like this before. It's a heady sort of glee that fills your veins to finally have him touch you in a way that's more than casual. It makes thinking hard; makes that part of you that is so ready to submit rise to the surface. It is an effort to think past the white noise and find your voice. "I think..."

He knows your scent is changing, you can feel it in the way his chest presses into your back, body melding over yours. You're so damn tempted to rock your ass back into him, just to see what he would do to such brazen behavior.

"Go on, don't get shy now. You were so ready to bat those pretty little eyes at Cass a moment ago. Where'd all that attitude go, huh?" His hand slides up under your chin, tilting your head up so he can look at your face.

You're whole body trembles as you take him in, eyes so dark they're almost all pupil.

"Go on, say it." His voice is a deep, husky purr that makes your insides feel molten. The voice made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom, to be used as your bodies tangle in the sheets. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about the images that voice conjures, of all the things you would let him do to you if he asked in that tone.

You clench your thighs together unconsciously, trying to hide the sudden pool of wetness you feel spreading across your panties. He hasn't done anything at all, but you're so ready for him. So willing. You're practically shaking in his grip, your plans for the evening forgotten.

"I was just messing around," you mumble, confidence now lost. "Didn't mean it."

"Seemed like you meant it to me." He retorts. "Didn't it seem like she meant it, Az?"

"Sure did," he says.

You won't open your eyes to look at him, don't even want to think about how pathetic you look right now.

"Do you know what happens, when you break my rules, Omega?"

"I have an idea," you mutter.

"No," his breath dusts over your skin as his hand slides back down your throat, lips brushing over your jaw. It's not quite a kiss, but close enough that heat coils tight in your lower belly. "I don't think you have any idea what you've done."

A whimper slips out of you before you can bite it back down and that same mirthless chuckle rumbles through his chest as his lips dust over your throat. It's pure torture. Not the kiss you want but close enough to the real thing that you can pretend it is.

"Do you know why I have my rules in place?" He whispers.

"No," you whimper.

He nips teasingly at your earlobe. "To keep you safe. You know I want you to be safe, don't you, Darling?"

You'd nod if you could. "Mhm."

He scrapes his teeth along the tender skin beneath your jaw and you could honestly cry over how close he is to your scent glands, right where he needs to bite down to claim you.

"And there isn't an Alpha in here who hasn't thought about fucking you, you know that too, don't you?"

That's honestly news to you. If any of the visiting Alpha's had been paying you any attention, you hadn't noticed. None of them could compare to Rhys anyway.

"N-no," you stutter.

"See, that's why I had to make my rules," he continues, nose nuzzling against your scent gland now, taking in the smell of your budding arousal.

Now you're really shaking in his grip, thighs clenched so tightly together your muscles ache.

"Because I can't have anyone trying to take what's mine."

His. The heady swell of hope in your chest makes you just a bit bolder as you tilt your head back to try and look him in the eyes. This is what you'd been waiting for.

"But am I yours, Rhys?" You sound as small as you feel next to him.

His other hand has been pinning you in place by the hip, but it now trails slowly across your stomach, bunching up the minuscule skirts on your skin tight dress. His lips had been distracting, you don't notice until your flush with his hips just how hard he is behind you. His scent always feels overwhelming, but now it feels like the jasmine and citrus scent of him is seeping into your skin, trying to meld itself into your very being.

His hand drifts lower, parting your legs like there's no resistance, despite how hard you're still clenching them together. You let out a little gasp as his fingers glide over the embarrassing wet patch in your panties.

"You've always been mine," he growls. "From the moment I met you I knew."

The fact that Cassian and Azriel are watching does nothing to stop him from the slow, deliberate strokes he makes along your clothed core.

Pleasure licks it's way up your spine and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to find something to ground yourself in. When you try to close your legs, he uses his knee to part them further, growling as he nips a warning to behave into your neck.

"Then why haven't..." coherent thought is becoming harder and harder the longer you remain in his grip. Cauldron you're going to slip into subspace embarrassingly fast at this rate, your base instincts taking over. "Haven't you claimed me?"

His tongue laves over your scent gland, lips sucking a bruise into your skin. "Wanted you to be comfortable," he murmmers into your skin. "Wanted it to be because you wanted me, not because you were about to go into heat, but now you've gone and made a mess of things, haven't you, Darling?"

"Didn't mean to," you whimper.

"Yes you did," Cassian points out.

Your audience is irrelevant as long as he keeps that pressure between your legs. You're fairly sure if he would pull his hand away now he would be able to see just how wet you really are.

"'m'sorry," you whimper, words jumbling as he applies a little more pressure. Your hips roll on their own accord, chasing the friction of his hands. Cauldron you could cum just like this.

"I don't think you've learned your lesson," he tuts, but he despite the threat you hear in his tone, his fingers doesn't stop moving, he doesn't try and stop you from grinding against his hand, even though he very well could. Perhaps he's always indulged you a little more than he should. "But you will."

"I'll be good, promise!" This position is torture! You can't roll over and expose your throat to him like you should, can't spread your legs and invite him to take whatever he wants from your body. You're at his mercy, chasing his hand like a horny teenager and it's all wrong and muddled in your head.

"We're not going to have this conversation about following my orders again, are we?" He asks.

"No," you assure as his thumb catches the edge of your panties and drags them to the side so he can finally touch you.

The hand holding your throat pulls away so suddenly you fall forward, hands darting out to catch the wall so you don't collapse. Neither Azriel nor Cassian move to catch you, though their eyes seem glued to where Rhys' hand is between your legs.

"No, what?" Rhys growls, the hand no longer holding your throat coming down hard against your ass.

You yelp, the sound just barely covered by the blaring music. The visiting packs still dance and party around you, but you can't focus on anything other than the stinging in your backside and the heat of Rhysand's body so close to yours.

"No, Alpha," you squeak.

His fingers pulls away from your core and you could cry from the loss, but the tears stinging your eyes are the least of your concerns as he slides your panties down your legs, leaving the damp fabric gathered at your ankles. Your dress isn't long enough to hide your exposed flesh, especially not when Rhys pushes the fabric up to your hips to land another well placed blow to your backside.

You bite down on your bottom lip to keep anyone from hearing you. "Say it like you mean it, Darling."

"Promise, I'll follow all your rules, Alpha!" You squeak.

Instead of another blow, he leans in close, the heat of his body seeping into yours as he presses a tender kiss beneath your jaw. "That's my, Omega."

You relax as you feel some of the tension slide from his body.

"And I know you'll keep that promise," he says in your ear. The music hides the sound of his zipper coming undone, but you feel the shift of him as he pulls away from you for a moment. "Because you know what happens when you obey me, don't you?"

He doesn't give you time to answer as he kicks your legs further apart. There's no time to think about it as the tip of his cock glides through the slick dripping down your thighs. Your mouth drops open, something between a moan and a squeak slipping past your lips as he pushes himself inside you. Your arms shake, hands firmly planted against the wall to try and maintain your balance. You try to rest your head against the worn wood, bracing yourself as he slides deeper and deeper inside you, but he grabs you by the throat again and pulls your head back so he can drag his teeth over your exposed throat.

You moan unabashedly now, the sound loud enough to be a scream.

He chuckles, the sound sweeter than the music shaking the house around. "Good Omegas get to cum."

You've lost count how many heats you've gone through over the years imagining how it would feel to have him inside you, none compare to this. Nothing, no toy, certainly not your own hands, could compare to the stretch of his thick length inside you. He takes you an inch at a time, lips nipping gently at your throat as he goes deeper than you thought possible.

"Fuck me," Cassian whispers, reminding you that he's there. "Look how she takes you."

You try to glance down at what they're seeing, but Rhys holds your chin in place, tutting disapprovingly in your ear when you try and fight him. "Now, now, just focus on me, yeah? This is as much a reminder to them that you're mine as it is to you."

He finally seats himself fully inside you, panting as he braces a hand against the wall to support himself. "Feel so good, Darling."

You lean your head back against his chest as he drags his hand down the wall to lace his fingers with yours, the gesture soft amidst the clear dominance in his every move. You're ready to surrender; you always have been but you've never been more aware of how naturally it comes to you until now.

"I'll be good," it's a chant, a prayer, chest heaving as you whimper and bare your throat best you can around his body as he leans over you. "I'll be your good Omega, promise!"

He pulls out tortuously slow, making sure you feel every inch of loss, until you're sure you'll feel empty forever. You're panting, breath rasping out of you, chest heaving as you babble and beg for him to come back, to fill you again. You think you might just promise anything to have him fully seated inside you again. Someone, you think it's Azriel, but you've lost the presence of mind to see either of the other males, laughs at your neediness. But Rhys merely kisses your throat tenderly before he slams himself back inside you.

You grip tightly to his hand, body jerking so quickly forward your chest brushes the wood of the wall.

He repeats the motion twice more, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly with each thrust.

"Rhys," you whimper.

"Gonna claim you later," he promises as your legs start to shake.

Heat licks up your spine, dances across your skin, you think you might be on fire with every bit of contact you have with his body. He is everywhere, filling all your senses.

"When we're alone and I can really take my time with you."

This isn't him taking his time? Your eyes roll back into your head, muscles tightening to the point of pain. He's so deep inside you, pace leisurely if not punishing. You can feel every thrust in your stomach, tip of his cock easily finding your cervix. You can barely breathe around each rough thrust back inside your dripping cunt.

"Please, Alpha," you whine. "Please, please!" You're so close.

He kisses beneath your jaw again, lips soft and gentle despite how he picks up his pace. "I think you've learned your lesson, Darling." His free hand slides down between your legs again, finding your clit with ease.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the coil in your belly tightens once more before it snaps entirely. You think you might be screaming his name, but you've lost control of your limbs, body going slack. His fingers leave your clit so he can catch you before you fall on your face, body limp as he pumps once, twice, three times more before his own release follows yours.

Even with all the white noise in your skull, the warmth of him inside you makes your base instincts preen. This is what you're made for; this is what you've been waiting months and months for.

You're caught between the wall and his chest, barely standing as he pulls himself out of you and hurriedly pulls his pants back up. "That's my girl!"

As soon as his zipper is back up, he's sweeping you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. "Did so good for me."

You nuzzle into his neck, dragging more of his scent over your skin, as if he hadn't already covered you in it.

"I take it this means you're not down to share?" Cassian asks, his voice sounding strained.

A growl rumbles through Rhys' chest. "I don't think you'll like my punishment for you quite as much as she did if you so much as look at her without my permission."

You giggle as you place a kiss to his throat. "Don't be such a grumpy Alpha, you know I only came over here because I wanted your attention."

"Mission accomplished," Azriel mutters.

Rhys kisses the tip of your nose as he leads you towards the stairs. "You could have just said so."

You find yourself grinning. All things considered, you're plan worked out flawlessly. "Where's the fun in that?"

[apalapucian]

posting my jily hunger games au draft because idk if it's worth continuing lol. under the cut:

when lily's name is called at the reaping, it's petunia she seeks first, and petunia looks at her like—like it makes sense.

besides the pity, which in itself is fucking unbearable, it is this that is damning most of all. this is lily's sentence. this is her death, right here in this courtyard. already shut down before she even steps foot in the capitol. petunia looks at her like it fucking checks out, like it's the best thing lily could ever do in her life. being in the games. dying there. that maybe lily was fucking up so much in life before now because she was meant to do this all along, meant to give the family this level of notoriety and drama.

she marches to the stage and she imagines petunia already planning what to wear and what to say at her funeral. does she think too badly of her sister? probably. is this just games-spurred bitterness? or does she have valid grounds? she doesn't even know anymore.

/

she hated him. the first time she saw james potter, she really thought she hated him.

she watched his reaping video on the train with terrence (the other tribute from twelve) and immediately had—fervid feelings, which she was too quick to identify as hate. dislike. some sort of aversion. she's not entirely sure why; he was doing something incredible in the video, volunteering for the boy who was picked. some unfortunate lanky boy called remus lupin.

although, you know, he's not really unfortunate, is he? lupin. the guy's probably at home right now, eating cheese and tangerines while he watches his friend die. or something like that. lily doesn't know how the rich cope. is he rich? only james and that other friend of theirs seemed rich. sirius black. the other volunteer—look, it's a whole thing. maybe remus lupin and sirius black are snacking together and holding hands right now, eyes glued to some giant screen in some giant mansion.

meanwhile, she's here with james. james potter, the brave and noble, from district seven.

in the video, when remus lupin was called, two people broke ranks to put in their own names for him. chaos erupted. sirius black's volunteering in particular was an outrage, as he was apparently heir to one of those snobby elite families who hold office slash run those highly exclusive, underground hunger games betting clubs. even as he frantically volunteered for lupin (this lupin guy must have significantly changed their lives), even on tv, sirius had a sweeping, authoritative air about him, a regality in his walk and starched collar that screamed money and class. lily supposes she hated him, too. she hated all three of them. it was just generally very easy to hate anyone who had easy access to things like cheese and tangerines and friendships that run that deep.

the way they volunteered that day, immediately and ostentatiously and with zero reservation—people ate it up. until lily's last night in the world—until right before she entered the place of her imminent death, that is—it was the most viewed video of this season. probably even more than most available content on prior games. not even dorcas meadowes attacking caesar flickerman live or cassius mulciber's blatantly racist ass comments or jeanne marchbanks's cleavage close-up beat it. people, including lily, watched and rewatched it, had something to comment about every aspect of it: the unprecedented mare's nest that is two people volunteering, the shock of the people realizing who the volunteers were, the way they all argued, the way sirius's family security eventually all but dragged him from the stage. the way no one came for james, in the end. all right in front of the crowd, all in front of the whole world through the cameras.

lily suspects it's envy, later on. that initial, intense feeling. she envies remus for having two people willingly take his place without thinking twice.

wonder what that's like.

anyway, it's not even about all that now. it's about james. and fervid feelings. and how these stupid, inexplicable feelings held up all the way here, now, somehow with his head on her lap and a dead kid not fifteen feet away from them, james's life—or death, so easily also his death just as much—so heedlessly thrust in her hands.

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie I'm back and this time I've brought some thoughts for Animal Midwife Rhett because it's a headcannon I will never be able to let go of (lol).

-If one of the critters is in labor, Royal is always the first to text you with a message that reads "call the midwife" in all caps and it's always at the weirdest possible timing. Rhett got the message and literally jumped out of the bath.......naked.......butt naked.

-His toughest one yet was a Hereford heifer who was in labor for close to 13 hours and the bull didn't want to be separated from her. It took both Royal and some of the other men of the house to keep him in the pen, but thankfully the calf came without any other issues.

-One of the mares had sired a foal with a prized stallion Royal had acquired from a racetrack in Kentucky and Rhett ended up having to turn the foal who was breached. You had just come home from work and wanted to give Rhett a giant hug but unfortunately he hadn't scrubbed off yet.

-Horses and cows aren't the only critters he's delivered though. You guys had a pair of rabbits that Pastor Jim had dropped off one day and the doe had a litter barely three days later. Rhett was on standby just in case she needed help, but she took care of business pretty quick.

-Zipper and Birdy, Cecelia's barn cats were expecting a litter of kittens shortly before Thanksgiving and you guys thought it would be well before then, but the day of, you got that text from Royal. Rhett unfortunately had been performing some kind of surgery on the turkey since six thirty that morning, so that meant having to scrub off fast and run out to the barn to help. Thankfully there were eight healthy kittens he brought back to the house along with the proud parents and he didn't have to keep messing with the turkey with your help.

-Your dogs had their puppies shortly before Christmas and the spare part of the basement now had become an unofficial animal nursery. Part of that was because there was a woodstove to keep them warm, but also that there was enough room for the cats and dogs to nest in a bed and nurse their babies.

aaaah, animal midwife rhett, my beloved! 🥹 i can absolutely see this for rhett. being with you truly brought out his caring nature. he wants to love and care for all things precious to him, and that includes all of the little critters that come through your doors. thank you for these sweet thoughts, my love! 💌

[kawaiilovepersona]

Ashkore yandere x female reader

• ok that man is a mystery... but he is in love so vontigo would make exceptions... under threats and warning it is worth clarifying that he had surely never felt such an obsession before... except with eliminating eldarya and the great crystal... but Now you arrive and it's like... damn I have to make it mine.

• He literally kills for you without thinking about it and even tortures directly and painfully on some occasions, doing which he sees you a lot or very close to men (if you are bisexual or holy bread he will start to see women as rivals) he simply will not tolerate you being very close or "very friendly" mares in his opinion with people other than him, Chrome or Leiftan in extreme cases

• Interesting or disturbing fact? Whatever the case, the guy is crazy and very obsessed, he will be possessive of you and believe me, he will watch you while you are asleep at night and will even get into bed with you from time to time to smell your scent and on several occasions he will steal "clothes, clothes." interior, blankets, pillows, makeup, perfume, creams among others" to feel you or your smell and make a nest

• He loves to bring you clothes when you are awake and pay you visits... usually most visits are at night if he finds you awake you will ask him to model or dance for him and he will also leave you gifts like "clothes". , candy or just something that you like or want very much"

• Another thing that makes him stand out from the other yanderes, he makes it clear at the beginning and he even tells you and makes it clear that you are his and only his...

• I feel that he can really spoil or pamper you a lot if you really "behave well or have good manners like he says" and admit that you are "his" with everything you want... if he sees you in the distance observing something in Only 5 seconds will be in your room with the object

• The guy, although he doesn't like to admit it, can be soft on you... but he's still a psychopath, be careful, pretty ♥ in short, sometimes he just wants cuddles and asks for them with a thick voice that lasts more than a request, it's an order sometimes he sees you reading he lies on your thighs and asks you to read it out loud for him...he doesn't care about the book just your voice and the feeling of your soft thighs and fuck the good view of your chest that you give him now

• He would never... but really he would never mess with your body, I feel like even if he was angry he wouldn't do it and I would be careful if you have low self-esteem are you chubby? "Damn, a beauty with extra flesh is what he thinks of hugging" thin? "damn doll, I'll squeeze that waist until I leave my marks" acne, small bust or small butt, I'm obsessed with everything about you, he doesn't care, you're a damn beauty and he'll kiss the most insecure parts you have ♥

• If you are jealous or angry for some reason (he will be a little mocking and more affectionate and not so quiet) but in reality inside he is like ("ahhhhh! he finally realizes that he loves me and that she is mine, only mine, my queen ♥) haha it would really be a little cute and I bet what you want that behind the mask he has a smile of pride, mischief and a touch of ego

• He would love you to cook or watch you sew a garment that was torn for some reason, he would see you as his little housewife... and if you don't know how to do those things, he will teach you or he will do them for you or he will leave everything done for you.

• He would undoubtedly kidnap you or take you if you don't want to go...with him, but if you want to and don't fight, he is delighted with that docile and submissive behavior...

• If they have children (you will have them no matter what... unless you basically can't or risk your health but he really wants children with you)

• (nicknames and bonuses for being a good purple baby ♥)

• "disobediences: my beauty I want to have you in my arms Now and listen to you read any book.... don't you want that? cook together? no? okay then dance for me... how can you not? beauty you have already denied yourself three times created You already know what it means... if you wanted me to spank you so badly and I left my mark on your body... you ask me and that's it" (he started hitting your butt and leaving bites and hickeys all over you). your body ♥ as "punishment")

• obedient: "oh my beauty I love it when you are so obedient... that made me horny, you know my queen? I brought you a little gift... it's a lingerie so you can wear it... and skip me my queen ♥"

I'm sorry for the abandonment, the truth is I have no excuses besides my writer's block, personal and secondary life:/ I'm sorry, purple babies...♥ 💜

[kazewhara]

"victor mare is right there... oh, and there's vago mundo!"

kazuha leans on the crow's nest and props his chin in his hand as you point out constellations overhead. you thought that you were going to admire night sky in silence by yourself, but tonight, kazuha decided to keep you company. he reasoned that the night was young, and that the sky was too beautiful to be appreciated by oneself. "and who better to experience this with than you?" he'd said.

you should be used to it by now -- him saying things like that. kazuha often says that he prefers to experience certain things with you and you only. it could be a firework show or a gorgeous sunset, and kazuha would always turn to you and say that he's glad he got to see it with you. why you specifically, you'll probably never know. all you know is that every time -- every single time -- it makes your heart skip a beat.

...or two. sometimes, when he says it, you delude yourself into thinking that he likes more than just the scenery.

but that can't be right, you tell yourself. you fall silent as your thoughts start to wander, and you lower your hand slowly. suddenly, it feels like the stars aren't as bright as they usually are.

kazuha looks at you and furrows his brows. "are you alright?" he asks. he must be worried about you. for some reason, that makes your stomach tighten. "you got quiet all of a sudden."

"hm? yeah, i'm okay." you half-lie. truthfully, you're not sure if you're alright or not. it's not a very good time for these thoughts, but you can't help but wonder why kazuha spends so much time with you. you don't know when it even started, much less why. so, you mirror his expression and face him. "hey, can i ask you something?"

"of course," he nods. "anything."

you wince. whenever he says stuff like that, it makes you feel like he... cares about you. cares more than he should, anyways -- cares in the way you care for him. "why are you here?" you dive headfirst into the problem, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"pardon?"

"why are you up here with me? why do you ever come up here with me?"

kazuha straightens. "does my being here bother you?" he sounds.. hurt? "i can leave if you'd like..."

anything but that. you shake your head. "no, no, that's not why i'm asking." how do you even phrase this without giving yourself away? you sigh. "i'm just curious. why do you... i don't know. why do you spend time with me like this?"

"am i not supposed to spend time with a close friend?" kazuha leans on the mast and folds his arms over his chest. he regards you closely -- maybe too closely. it's like he's trying to read you. you step back subtly, putting a little more distance between the two of you.

"you consider me a close friend?" the question slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. you never called kazuha anything more than a friend before, mostly for your sanity. it made your situation just a little more tolerable; it kept you from crossing a line. but to hear him say that you two are close friends -- you two have an actual bond that he treasures -- you can't help the way your pulse picks up speed.

but only after a few beats of silence do you realize how hopeful you sounded just now. your face burns as you try to cover up your mistake. "i-- when did you make that decision without me?" you try to joke. kazuha's a smart guy -- he definitely picked up on that just now. you battle the urge to throw yourself over the side. "i don't get a say in this anymore?"

kazuha still says nothing, his eyes still fixed on your face. you hate when he does this -- when he reads you without your consent. then, he finally speaks, "was that wrong of me?"

thankfully, there's a lilt in his tone. you pounce on it, grateful that he's not commenting on your little slip up. "i'd appreciate it if you informed me before you go about making decisions on our relationship." you puff a quiet laugh and lean your back on the railing. crisis averted, you think as you turn your eyes to the sky. "you still didn't answer my question, by the way."

you can't see him, but you hear him. kazuha steps closer to you, but you don't look at him just yet. maybe he just noticed how far away you seemed, is all. "if you must know," he says, his voice soft, "i join you up here because you're so passionate about the stars."

of course that would be all. why did you even bother asking? he's told you more than once that he likes when you tell him about the stars. you hum, hoping your disappointment isn't obvious. "is that right?"

"but if you're asking why i insist on accompanying you specifically..." you hear kazuha take another step towards you. "...then i'm going to have to ask you a question in return."

you look down to face him and startle when you see just how close he is. you think you're going crazy; he's the same distance away from you as he was before, but the way he's looking at you makes you feel like he's examining you from up close. "stop looking at me like that." you jab playfully. "but okay, what's your question?"

"alright," kazuha chuckles. "my question is: if i were to attempt to... edit our relationship, would you be opposed to it?"

you blink and laugh a little, confused. "uh, no, i guess? how are you 'editing' it, exactly?"

kazuha takes another step forward and this time, you startle for real. the crow's nest isn't a very big space; even if you wanted to try and escape this situation, you couldn't. the only way out of this is to launch yourself over the side and when you see his eyes soften, you consider the pros and cons of doing so.

"if i... were to tell you that i'm in love with you," kazuha's voice is soft. always so soft, so delicate with his words. "what would your response be?"

when your heart stops this time, you worry that it won't start again. it does, thankfully, but you're left breathless, struggling to comprehend his confession. say something, you kick yourself mentally. this is it! this is what you've been waiting for! tell him you love him too! but you're so shell-shocked that the words get jumbled in your mind, so much so that you nearly lose them entirely.

"i, um..." you flounder. it's now or never. "i would... tell you that the feeling is mutual."

it's not exactly how you imagined your confession would go, but kazuha visibly brightens at your words. "i see." he seems to be fighting back a smile, biting at the inside of his cheek. "then would you be alright if we became lovers instead?"

this is definitely not how you pictured this moment would go. you always thought it would be some heartfelt moment on a grassy hilltop in liyue as the sun set behind the two of you. instead, you're in the crow's nest of the alcor beneath a starry sky, the sound of the ocean lapping at the ship ringing in your ears despite how far it is from you.

you wouldn't have it any other way.

"i'd love that." unlike kazuha, you don't fight your smile. you must look like a fool, finally smiling at him with all the love you've had stored up for four months, but he doesn't mind. he actually steps even closer to you and brings his hands up to cup your face.

autumn eyes gaze into your own, and you melt. kazuha murmurs, "i have one more question, if you'll allow it."

"of course," you mirror his earlier words. "i'll allow anything."

kazuha leans in close, his lips brushing yours. he's impatient. "may i kiss you?"

"yes--" you barely manage to get your answer out before kazuha's lips cover your own. your eyes slip shut and you sigh into the kiss, bringing a hand up to grab at his clothing. he tilts his head and you step closer, removing any remaining distance between the two of you. and when he murmurs a soft "i love you" into the kiss, you think that no star in the sky can shine as bright as the ones you see behind your eyelids.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,266 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: I didn't do nearly as many read-throughs with this one so there are probably typos. Also YA'LL. ARE. GONNA. LOVE. THIS. A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: After the visit from the Saviors at Hilltop, Daryl and Y/N finally head back to Alexandria, waiting on the edge of war.

Your name: submit What is this?

That night, after the Saviors left, was to be your last in Hilltop before you returned to Alexandria to officialyl kick the hornet nest. You had said something about going to talk to Maggie but after a while you still hadn’t returned and Daryl went to see if there was anything he could help with. He knocked on the door of Jesus’ trailer and Enid pulled open the door. Everyone was there, except for you.

“Hey. Y/N ain’t here?” he drawled. Maggie noticed how his brow drew down low over his eyes, a clear expression of worry.

“She was but she left a while ago,” Jesus said, climbing to his feet. “I assumed she was headed your way.”

“Nah. She ain’t been back.” His stomach twisted a little with anxiety. “Alright… Thanks,” he said, turning to leave.

“Daryl, wait!” Maggie called after him. She got up from her seat at the table and walked over. “You’re leavin’ early in the mornin’, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Headin’ back.”

Maggie nodded. “Alright. Then let us say goodbye to ya now in case we don’t see ya.” She grabbed Daryl into a tight hug before he could protest. He was stiff at first but he soon pressed a hand to her back and returned it. “You be safe. And we’ll see ya soon.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. Sasha grabbed him briefly into a hug. Enid waved from her place on the couch and Jesus strode forward to shake his hand. “Thanks for all your help here,” he said. “It really means a lot.”

Daryl nodded again. “Mhm. We’ll be rid of ‘em for good soon. See ya’ll.” The archer’s broad frame disappeared back outside. He stopped for a minute and scanned the open space for your familiar frame, but he couldn’t see you anywhere. The first places he checked were all the guard posts along the wall but there was no sign of you. He tried Abraham and Glenn’s graves next, but no luck. Then his eyes fell on the stable and he knew you sometimes went there in an attempt to quiet your mind, and after that interaction with Negan today, the things he had said loud enough for everyone to hear, Daryl suspected that your mind needed a little quieting.

His guess was right.

You came into view, leaning up against one of the stall doors, petting a mare who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the attention. There was only the glow of a few lanterns to light the space and your expression was cast in shadow when he came in, the soft hay making his steps nearly silent.

“Hey,” he said, drawing your eyes. “Been lookin’ for ya.”

“Sorry,” you said softly.

“Nah, it’s not¬—nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, crossing the space to you. You didn’t have a smile for him this time and his concern grew. “Ya alright? Today was…” he broke off, not even sure what word to use.

You were usually quick to reassure him that you were fine, but this time you didn’t. You just stared ahead and absently smoothed your hand down the horse’s neck, trying to gather your courage to speak.

Daryl stepped closer to you until he was leaned up right beside you against the stall door. “Hey. C’mon. Talk to me. What is it?”

He watched you gulp and shut your eyes for a moment, gathering yourself. You shook your head a little and let out a shaky exhale before you glanced over at him. “Negan. What he—he said—and… everyone… the rest of the day today, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. And you know that feeling you get when you enter a room and people were just talking about you? It felt like that in all of Hilltop today.” You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the tears burning in your eyes from spilling out. “Everybody here must just think I—”

“Hey, c’mon. Stop that. Nobody thinks anything about it,” he said trying to reassure you. But you turned your eyes down toward your hands.

“The way some of them were looking at me? Yeah. They do, Daryl… Now all of Hilltop knows that I—that I slept with Negan. With him.” It was hard even to get the words out. “And I can’t even really blame them. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I never should have allowed—” you said quietly, breaking off and shuffling your feet back and forth anxiously in the soft bedding on the barn floor. You could no longer stop any of the tears from spilling out and Daryl saw them cascade down your cheeks as you finally looked back up at him and met his blue eyes. “I can’t even blame them for what they probably think of me. What you must think of me…” You hastily wiped the tear streaks from your cheeks. “Hell, a lot of the time—” you shook your head, staring down at your hands again, “I think the worst of it myself…”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. His gaze was intense. He hated that you had been put in that situation. He hated that circumstances had ever collided in just such a way as to put you in a place where your only option was to submit to Negan, to allow him to lay a finger on you. And then you’d gone back. For him. “Ya want to know what I think? Ya were victimized by him. But ya ain’t a victim. You’re a survivor. That’s all ya did. Ya survived. And ya saved my ass! Ya didn’t have a choice. And any of them who are too stupid to figure that out ain’t worth it. They don’t know a damn thing about it. All the rest of us, Maggie, Jesus, Rick, Aaron & Eric, we know. We know. I’m proud to even know ya. And I consider myself lucky that ya’ve chosen me as bein’—as bein’ someone worth yer time.” He watched you wipe another tear off your cheek, your eyes wide and glassy as you looked back at him. He tilted his head gently at you. “C’mere.” His expression was soft and one you never could refuse.

It was all you needed. You fell into him and his strong arms wrapped around you tightly and pressed you into him, like he needed you there against his chest. Daryl breathed in the scent of your hair and settled you against him, smoothing his hands over your back lightly. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and focused on that feeling of safety. “S’alright. I ain’t ever thought less of ya because of what happened to ya. It ain’t your fault. Wasn’t a choice. And if anybody so much as looks at ya sideways, ya just come tell me and I’ll knock them on their ass, alright?”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You pressed your hand flat against his chest, loving how you could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers and the expansion of his lungs as he breathed. You pulled back slightly so you could look up into his handsome face. He looked worried still, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip. But, finally, you gave him a smile, albeit still a little teary, and he relaxed some. His fingers smoothed through your hair and you sighed, feeling a return of the warmth he always gave you. It grew and spread outward in your chest, spilling into your face, and you arched up onto your toes and kissed him.

You were setting your heels back down when his arm snaked around your lower back and pulled your hips into his. You looked up and met his eyes again and he nudged his nose up once. Daryl’s request for another kiss. You gladly acquiesced and this time you both sank into it, breathing each other in. Daryl’s hand clasped your face and his thumb traced the edge of your jaw gently as your lips moved in sync with his, effortless. The sensation of your hands light on his sides was enough to send him reeling with electricity.

“Thanks,” you said softly, after you finally broke apart. Daryl’s hands were landed on your hips and he gave you a questioning look. “Just—for what you said.”

“Ain’t gotta thank me. S’just the truth,” he said. He gave your hip an affectionate squeeze. “C’mon. S’late and we gotta get up early to head home. Let’s get some sleep.” He nudged his head in the direction of the door and you nodded.

You smiled as he laced his fingers with yours and tugged you back to the trailer.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl’s bike rumbled down the road and he pulled it into the garage at Aaron and Eric’s which was standing open. You were still climbing off when the door into the house burst open and Aaron and Eric both came bounding down the stairs.

Aaron reached you first and barreled into you, drawing a laugh from you as you stumbled backward a little before regaining your balance. Daryl watched the interaction with one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Aaron said, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

You patted his back. “You too,” you said fondly, smiling widely.

“Alright, quit hogging her!” Eric said, shaking his head. Aaron pulled back and gave you a warm smile before stepping aside to let Eric wrap his arms around you. “We’ve missed you,” he said.

“Missed you guys, too,” you replied, shutting your eyes and giving Eric a final squeeze.

“How’s Hilltop?” Aaron asked as you finally withdrew, glancing between you and Daryl.

Daryl shrugged. “Ready as they’ll ever be. Maggie’s got it,” he nodded. “How’re things here?”

“Ready,” Aaron said. “For the most part. We’re expecting The Saviors today thanks to your intel.”

You felt your stomach twist and you nodded. “Yeah… Hard to believe we’re really about to do this.”

“It’s time,” Eric said, looking suddenly sad. “You heard about Olivia and—and Spencer?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We heard,” you trailed off. “Olivia was sweet. That shouldn’t have happened to her, of all people. But Spencer? What the hell was he thinking?” you asked, shaking your head sadly. “He put himself right in the line of fire… he was naïve, but nobody deserves what happened to him.”

“He couldn’t handle Rick being in charge after his Mom,” Aaron said. “Thought he could do better.”

“Only someone who was completely clueless about what that means would say that,” Daryl drawled. “Ain’t an easy job, what Rick’s doin’. And he feels responsible for every damn thing that happens to everybody.”

You sighed. “That’s a lot of weight to carry around…”

“Speakin’ of,” Daryl said, glancing back over at you. “I wanna go see everybody. Check in with Rick.”

You nodded. “Go. I’m gonna catch up with these two for a bit.”

“They’re gonna wanna see ya, too,” Daryl said.

You felt your cheeks flush a little, nerves still at the idea of being brought so fully in as part of Daryl’s ‘family’. “Alright. I’ll meet you there in a little while,” you said with a nod. “Promise.”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Alright. See ya soon, then. Aaron. Eric,” he said, nodding at each of them. Daryl disappeared out into the bright morning sun.

Considering what he knew was coming, Alexandria seemed quiet.

But when he pulled open the front door of the house his group shared and paced into the kitchen, he was surrounded by his chosen family. Rick placed Judith in his arms and smiled as Daryl cooed at the little girl. “It’s good to have you back,” Rick said, clasping Daryl’s shoulder when he could.

Daryl nodded. “Yah. Good to be back.” He bounced Judith a couple more times and then glanced at Carl. “Hey. Take her for a minute, would ya? I gotta talk to your dad.”

Carl accepted his baby sister and Daryl straightened Rick’s old hat on the teenager’s head, eliciting a smile.

Once Carl was out of ear shot, Daryl leaned onto the counter with his forearms and sighed heavily. “We really doin’ this?” he drawled. “Ready?”

Rick nodded. “We’re doing it. And we’re ready. Everything is set.”

“And Negan?”

Rick scowled. “I’ll take care of him when the time is right.”

Daryl stared down at the pattern of countertop for a moment. “What if I get the chance first? Or Y/N? We ain’t supposed to take it?” he asked. “If anyone deserves to put that bastard in the ground it’s her. I can’t tell her not to.”

The muscle in Rick’s jaw twitched. “Yeah… I know. But—for now? We need to knock down what he’s built first. Can’t just be him.”

“I know. But if we get a shot at him… Rick, I want him dead,” Daryl growled. “For what he did to Glenn and Abraham. For what he did to all of us. For Hilltop, for the Kingdom… but most of all for her.” The archer straightened up. “If we get the chance, no hesitation. He’s dead.”

Rick eventually nodded, a tentative agreement. He wanted to be the one who pulled the trigger on Negan, but how could he argue for you or Daryl to not get the job done if the opportunity presented itself. “Where is Y/N?” Rick asked.

“Catchin’ up with Aaron and Eric. She said she’d come by in a bit.”

“Good. That’s good…” There was the weight of many cares on his shoulders. “When they get here, I don’t want either of you two anywhere they might be able to see you,” Rick said.

“Why? They saw us yesterday at Hilltop. They already know we’re part of this.”

“I know. I just don’t want to give them an opportunity to take a shot at either of you,” he replied. “And after yesterday, at Hilltop, with what they now know? They might.”

Daryl sighed and anxiously chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Ya, about that… Negan said somethin’ yesterday. He wants Y/N alive.”

Rick stared at his friend, his brow furrowing more deeply. “Alive?”

Daryl nodded, pacing a little restlessly. “That’s what he said to his douchebag lieutenant Simon. It seemed genuine. He wants her prisoner, and I don’t think he’d kill her after he got his hands on her.” Daryl’s face darkened with rage just at the thought. “So, that means that wherever we think Negan is gonna be, Y/N needs to not be…”

Rick considered the grave expression on Daryl’s face. “Will she agree to that?”

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. But she’s gonna have to. I ain’t puttin’ her somewhere he might be able to get his hands on her again.”

“Not sure any of us can boss Y/N around,” Rick said, a small smile curving his lips despite the grim topic.

Daryl let out an amused exhale in place of a laugh. “Ya… tell me about it.”

As if on cue, Daryl and Rick heard the front door open and soft footsteps up the hall and into the kitchen. You had a small smile for Rick and the others who were gathered in the living room. Rick returned it as you came to stand beside Daryl. “Good to see you,” Rick said. “We sorely missed having both of you around. And not just because you two can get supply runs done in record time.”

You laughed a little lightly, exchanging a look with Daryl, and nodded. “We missed being home too.”

“Listen, I was just telling Daryl—” Rick hesitated. “I don’t want either of you anywhere near the gate when they show up. I don’t want him knowing you’re here.”

You straightened up and looked at Daryl briefly. His blue eyes met yours and he nodded once to show he was onboard. “Alright,” you said, turning back to look at Rick. “We’ll hang back.” Inside, you were hoping that if Negan didn’t see you there wouldn’t be a repeat of what he had divulged loudly for everyone at Hilltop the previous day. You sighed and looked at Rick. “Once you do this today, there’s no going back. And people are going to die. Our people.”

Rick’s expression was grave, but he nodded. “I know. But if we leave it be, more people will die anyway. At his hands.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “I just want to make sure you really understand what we’re all getting into. Negan, he’s—” You broke off, unable to continue and sighed.

“I know,” Rick said forcefully. “We’ve all seen it with our own eyes.” You weren’t looking up at him. “Hey—” he said, forcing your eyes back to his. “Whatever happens isn’t gonna be on you. You told us all you had to tell. You stopped us from rushing in unprepared. And you didn’t even have to do any of that. We owe you. More than I can say. And I—” Rick pressed his hand over the center of his chest, “I’m so grateful.”

At length, you nodded. “We’ll get it done. We will. I know it.”

Daryl was looking at you in awe of your strength and he watched with a swell of happiness as Rosita grinned at you and waved from her place in the other room and you went striding over to greet her.

“Daryl.” Rick’s voice drew his eyes again. “Whatever happens… we’re fighting the good fight.” And it was then that Daryl suddenly realized that Rick was worried that perhaps you might not make it through this. And he was worried about what that would mean for the archer. It was war. Anything could happen.

Daryl straightened up to his full height and chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. “Ain’t gotta worry. Y/N and I are both making it through this. Rick, she’s—” he paused and glanced back over at you, feeling himself soften as he watched you laugh at something Rosita had said, tossing your head back, your eyes crinkled closed. “She’s stronger than me. And she makes me strong. We’re gonna be just fine.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was surprised when he woke the next morning and realized you weren’t beside him. He shot straight up in bed, his heart pounding, and that’s when he realized that he could hear the shower running and the gentle sound of you humming to yourself over the pattering of the water. He flopped back down onto the pillow and reached over to your side, wanting to see if the warmth of you was still there.

Your side of the bed was cool but Daryl could still see the shape of your body in the sheets and the impression of your head on the pillow. He heard the shower turn off in the bathroom and the sound of you opening the door and stepping out. The archer climbed out of bed and made his way over to the doorway. He leaned against the door frame, taking in the shape of your figure wrapped in a towel, a comb in your hands as you ran it through your wet hair. You finally caught sight of him in the mirror and you gave him that megawatt smile that always sent electricity jumping up his spine and his heart skipping a beat.

“Hey. Morning,” you said, turning to look at him leaning up against the doorframe.

“Ya left me alone in bed?” he drawled. “Real nice…”

A small smile still curved you lips. “I’m sorry. You were really deeply asleep still. Must have needed it. I couldn’t sleep anymore and I just really wanted a hot shower.”

Daryl left his place leaning against the doorway and walked over to you in front of the mirror. His hands landed on your hips and you felt a flush of heat in your chest and face at the contact.

“Yah. Ya didn’t invite me to that either,” he joked quietly.

One of your eyebrows quirked down low over your eyes and you gave him a look, obviously trying to read what was on his mind. “Should I have?” you asked, turning around again to glance in the mirror. Daryl’s hands stayed on your hips and you soon felt his body pressing up against yours.

“Always,” he said, his voice deep and a little gruff with sleep still. He bent and kissed the bare skin on the side of your neck. The stubble on his face was exhilarating and you felt goosebumps rising on your skin immediately. He next pressed his lips to the skin on your shoulder. He thought you smelled of lavender and vanilla. His fingers gave your hips a gentle squeeze.

You bit your bottom lip. “Daryl Dixon…” you said softly. Your tone was smoky, silky, and it drew his eyes to yours in the mirror. “What are you doing?” you asked him playfully.

One corner of his mouth twitched up but then his expression was almost serious. He gently gathered the wet strands of your hair, his fingertips sweeping your neck softly, sending another electric jolt through you. He pressed his lips to the back of your neck and pulled you back against him more tightly.

You felt your lips part slightly of their own accord and your eyes closed. You let out a small exhale and Daryl straightened up again, taking in your expression in the mirror and feeling a flame of heat growing in his chest. After a moment your eyes opened again and met his once more. “Do you know what you’re doing?” you asked quietly. Your breath and heart were increasing in pace and the tingles running through you were becoming impossible to ignore.

Daryl ducked his head a little bashfully for a moment, but only for a moment. When he caught your eyes again, he tilted his head back toward the doorway into the bedroom.

Now your heart was absolutely pounding. You broke from your gaze in the mirror and spun to face him, your brilliantly colored eyes searching his face. You peered up at him and once again Daryl was taken aback by the vulnerability he saw in your eyes. All he wanted in that moment was to wrap you up and make you truly his, show you exactly how goddamn head over heels he was for you. “Are you sure?” you said, and then you hesitated. “I mean, am I—am I reading this right?”

One of Daryl’s hands lifted from your hip and clasped your face gently. And he swept you in against him, his other hand on the small of your back, kissing you deeply and insistently. You felt your knees start to go weak but there was no chance of falling with Daryl’s arm around you, pressing your hips into his. His tongue flicked over your bottom lip and you granted him entrance, letting out a small noise of pleasure as he deepened the kiss even more.

You suddenly pulled back, your hand landing flush against his strong chest. “Wait. Wait…” you breathed, looking up into his handsome face, his blue eyes connected with yours. “Are you—is this—”

Daryl studied your expression and smiled at your hesitation as he realized you were worrying about him. He clasped your face again in both of his hands delicately, his eyes flickering between both of yours. “I’ve wanted this with ya for a long time. I just—I needed there to be other things first… I didn’t want to—to risk ruinin’ this because I rushed anythin’.”

You nodded though there was some mixture of confusion and disbelief on your face. You gently rested your hands on his sides. The lightness, the delicate quality of your touch drove him crazy…

“Hey, I—” he paused for a moment and licked his lips anxiously, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/N, ‘M in love with you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Daryl’s heart was pounding as he waited for your response.

The confusion and disbelief in your eyes was suddenly replaced with a wild happiness that grew, like your smile, by the moment. He felt your fingers curl more tightly into his shirt. “I love you, too,” you said. You let out a joyful laugh as you looked up at him and then immediately arched up onto your toes, crashing your lips into his again.

Daryl kissed you back eagerly, feverishly, but he pulled back suddenly leaving you wanting more. He stared down at you and you gave him a questioning look again, but were unable to stop smiling. “Can you, uhh—could ya just say that again?” he asked, a little self-consciously.

You grinned at him and looped your arms around his neck, looking deeply into his eyes. “Daryl Dixon. I’m so in love with you.”

His heart leapt to hear those words leave your lips and he crashed into you again, his arms pulling you into him and lifting you off your feet. When he set you back down, your lips didn’t separate and you pressed your hands into his strong chest, pushing him backwards into the bedroom again. You pulled his bottom lip in between your teeth, dragging them lightly over it, and smiled into the kiss as the action elicited a chesty growl from him. His fingers dug more deeply into your hips.

He broke from you for a brief moment and looked into your face. His eyes were intense, wanting. “Are ya ready for this? This okay? We don’t have to—”

You grinned at his sweetness and captured him in another fiery kiss briefly before pulling back again. “Get your damn clothes off right now,” you said breathily, grinning at him. “How is this fair? I’m already in just a towel.”

His pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth briefly and shook his head at you like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You grinned and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Your eyes wandered over his strong shoulders and bare chest down to the V of his hips, hitching again on the scars crisscrossing his skin.

Your hands went to him immediately and you leaned into him. He gulped a little nervously, staring down at the unmistakable desire in your eyes. You wrapped your arms around him and arched up onto your toes again, your lips meeting his hungrily, and Daryl happily sank into it. Suddenly he felt your fingernails raking gently down his back and he almost shivered at the sensation. He felt the overwhelming warmth in his chest blooming outward, causing his head to go vaguely fuzzy.

Before he could even think about doing it himself, he felt the towel wrapped around you fall to the floor and suddenly his fingers were wandering over the bare shape of you, unimpeded by distracting or cumbersome fabric.

He smoothed his hands from the flared curve of your hips up the narrowing of your waist and onto the angles of your ribs. His fingers reached around your frame and felt the sharpness of your shoulder blades. You felt small beneath his hands, delicate, despite the fact that he knew you were no wilted daylily. His lips wandered from yours to leave a trail along your jaw and down your neck to your collarbone. You heaved in a small breath at the sensation. Your fingers found his waistband and soon both of you were only skin, completely reeling with the sensations of one another.

A moment later you let out a surprised gasp as Daryl picked you up as if you weighed nothing and laid you down in the bed beneath him. He leaned over you, propped up on one elbow, moving aside a strand of your hair with the other hand. You stared up at him wantingly, your lips parted and waiting again for his. His hands, a little rough but so gentle, clasped your face as he kissed you before tracing the line of your collarbone and wandering down to explore all your curves and angles. You pulled his lips back to yours and tangled your legs with his, gasping in pleasure as the two of you became one and moved in sync together effortlessly.

Daryl was sweet and gentle but needy and fiery all at once and you were both just bounding hearts and sensations, curling toes and waves of rising pleasure. He kept one hand laced with yours and couldn’t take his eyes off you beneath him as you moved together unless it was to press kisses to every part of you. You relished the feeling of his strong muscles moving beneath your fingers, and when you both finally reached the peak his lips on yours were insistent before they softened. He drew back to watch the expression on your face as the two of you came down from your high, rushing breaths and a heartbeat that was loud in your ears.

Daryl settled down beside you, his chest heaving and an arm draped over you which you rested your hand on.

“Oh my God,” you gasped breathily, glancing over at him with a starry smile on your face. You turned onto your side so you were facing him, knowing your face and cheeks were flushed. Your fingers traced over the scars on his chest and despite the afterglow you were basking in you felt a twinge of anger and sadness at what he had gone through.

“Yah,” he agreed, a smile curving his lips. “I can’t even tell ya how long I’ve wanted that.” You thought you saw a blush in his cheeks too. His hands smoothed up and down your side from your shoulder to your hip, memorizing the feeling of you.

You sighed contentedly. “Same.”

Daryl nudged his nose up at you and you gladly acquiesced and pressed your lips to his softly, clasping his face and running your thumb along the line of his strong jaw. You watched his blue eyes open and you drank in the softness in them. His hand came to rest on your hip and his thumb drew absent strokes on your soft skin. You pressed a hand flat to his chest so you could feel the racing of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath.

“Wish we could stay here like this forever,” you said softly.

“Mhm. Me too. We can for a while though at least,” he drawled, moving closer to you again so he could feel your weight and your warmth. You draped your arm over him, the tips of your fingers brushing his back. Daryl watched you fondly as you settled in against him and closed your eyes.

At that moment, it was hard to believe anything could ever break the sense of fulfillment and peace both of you had.

[sashi-ya]

Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥

[thelaithlyworm]

DMBJ Rare Pair Exchange Reveals (2)

(“Slice of Life”, “A Bucket of Water, Well Chilled”, “Tongues”)

I was interested in the mare’s nest implied by the Hei Xiazi and Wu Xie’s training relationship when I was making prompts, and so were some other people, and a lot of folk did fic or art on that. Nice!

When I was considering writing Treats I had a few ideas for those two, most of which got sorted into Slice of Life and Bucket. Then, while writing the middle scene of Bucket, it ducked its head bashfully, touched its forefingers together and asked, “But what if… sexy?” and the resulting bunny wouldn’t leave me alone until I finished writing Tongues.

(I want it known that, however dark things might get in these fics, I could totally have made them worse and I chose not to. I saw the path of Sin and I turned away. I turned away!)

Note: All of these fics take place a little before Sand Sea, and deal extensively with spoiler information therein.

“Slice of Life”

Something about Hei Xiazi is that, for all his pragmatism, he’s a compassionate guy. Which gives him an interesting perspective on Wu Xie’s extremely self-destructive arc. If Hei Xiazi trains him, he’s helping him get further into dangerous situations. If he doesn’t, the kid’ll probably dive in bitter waters anyway, with less ability to swim.

And. So. There are a few hints that Grandad Wu was a lot deeper into the snake thing and the conspiracy thing and the everything thing than he let on, and I wanted to explore that. What better perspective than a tired immortal who’s in deeper than he wants to be? And after all, didn’t Hei Xiazi bring Wu Xie the message-snake that got him started on the venom thing? If he just… hadn’t quite done his job, if, in that long trek through the desert, the snake just… died, things would have been a lot different for Wu Xie. I wonder if Hei Xiazi ever thinks about that.)

Anyway, it’s called Slice of Life, and there are fairly mundane scenes of gathering and eating snails (as a snack) because, well, life just happens around the weird shit. And it made a nice soft ground for when the violence erupted.

I did not mean for Slice of Life to be so symmetrical, it just sort of happened, and when I realised that I helped it along a little bit. I’m still fond of two lines from the start and end:

“You still think,” Hei Xiazi said levelly, “that I won’t really hurt you.”

“What I know,” [Wu Xie] breathed, intimate as a lover, “is you won’t ever stop me.”

Mirrored statements, metrically identical. I’m very proud!

I think I might have gotten the headcanon from ilgaksu, but I kind of think Hei Xiazi was studying medicine in Berlin at the height of the Weimar Republic, and that somehow morphed into the dream he has in the centre scene - Weimar Republic music in a fancy-house in Old Changsha. (And “Die solistiche Orchester” was both quite hard to track down an audio recording of, and an insane ear-worm once I had. I put it in the podfic I did of this fic: you’re welcome.) Blue-and-White Porcelain was mentioned very briefly in one of the main-arc novels and the name hella stuck with me. (One day I’m going to write a fic consisting of Blue-and-White Porcelain, Phoenix from the New Years Fantasy Extra, and oh, maybe Mo Ce from the M9 drama for good leavening. It may make the tag wranglers twitch.)

I really enjoyed putting in mundane details, like the colour of the bucket of snails, or the old-fashioned wooden crutch - they really help bring a scene to life, for me, anyway.

“A Bucket of Water, Well Chilled”

I’m not sure how much I have to say about this one, really. It’s loosely based on one of the side-stories, wherein Hei Xiazi dares Wu Xie to throw ice water on Xiaoge, soon after he comes down from Mt Changbai, with similar results to the fic.

It was certainly interesting to show a progression of their relationship. From, “I can’t fix your problem I can only curb the most maladaptive part of it” through “everything is awful and nothing is okay” to… “everybody is with their sweetie(s) and there’s room to make a joke”. I’m not sure Hei Xiazi really needed to lick the water-pistol in the first sc-  Wait, he just tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a note: he totally did need to lick the water-pistol and if I were more aware of tropes and thematic expression this would be obvious to me. Okay, okay, I’m not going to argue.

Oh! So why does Wu Xie quote part of the Heart Sutra in the middle? The “no eyes, no ears, no mind” part? Another of the sides describes Xiaoge’s perception of behind the Gate as very dark and very quiet. It seemed close enough to that particular sutra that Wu Xie might jump to it if he let his mind wander.

… I’ve got a theory that all the snake mines Wu Xie devoured contained, as well as some ancient ancient history, a collection of sutras and religious-and-philosophical texts that people tending the mine, say, a monastery up in Motuo, might want remembered as well as simply writing things down. There’s a line in one of the post-Reboot novels that he knows a *lot* of sutras and I suppose he might have memorised them the old-fashioned way but, y’know, when there’s a bizarre mechanism for transmitting information around, why not go hard?

My other theory, and I’m not sure it’s so much a theory as just saying things out loud, is that with all the extra information sitting in his brain, plus the emotional bleed the novels say happens with snake pheromones, Wu Xie is essentially playing with the kind of three-or-four-deck card stack that casinos use - difficult to predict by outsiders because there’s so much extra information, but also so many cards that it’s unwieldy for the owner. And that he keeps himself functioning on the day to day by just… taking a smaller handful to use and trying to forget the rest of the pile exists until he needs it. (Wu Xie’s emotional affect can be, ah, fluid.)

“Tongues”

And this is where we take the snake venom mind-wandering up to 11.

(Incidentally, about a month after writing these, the Travelling Notes arc popped up some chapters that involved a lot of snail-cookery, and Wu Xie saying something that Pangzi tells him sounds *weird* which Wu Xie just brushes off with an off-hand explanation and… was probably not, from context, the mundane bilingual slip-up that he thinks it is - it was close enough to what I’d written that I was a little shook.)

I loved the mad swings in this - coupons to pinning someone against the wall, to sweaty sex, to giggling at the prospect that the landlady might hear, to tender, bittersweet cuddling - I always do enjoy a fic that binds extremes. 

For what it’s worth, I borrowed the little room papered with newspaper and a board bed running down one wall from the Lost Tomb 1 drama. (It had some really vivid mundane scenery, that show.) Hei Xiazi wearing a sarong in Reboot was, it was memorable okay? He looked good. So I extrapolated a little for the fic.

And… so I was reading a meta about the descriptive language used in sex scenes, and it got me thinking about this one, which is a whole lot more E-rated than I usually do, and the choices I’d made in how things got described. And partly that’s because I’m just not a ‘weeping cock-slit’ kind of a girl, and partly… I was really tight in Hei Xiazi’s POV and it turns out he - the version that exists in my head - just wasn’t interested in that kind of detail. He was interested in the mechanics, and what needed to be done (and coupons) and how his partner was reacting, but he’s lived a long time and some things just don’t need a lot of describing in his internal narrative. Anatomy is an open book to him; orgasms are nice but easy; you don’t get to kiss someone’s fluttering eyelid every day!

... Perhaps that has something to do with his Romance vs ‘Real’ distinction. Hmm.

This also got podded, with the theme music “Adam a Eva”, similar era to “Das solistiche Orchester”, and if I knew how the lyrics went I would tell you.

[rococospade]

Fic update stuff

Hey, this week’s Mare’s Nest update might be late, I’ve got a few comms plus I’m finishing up my illustration for @vermilionzines “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (it’s a bloodborne NPC zine and it’s so, so cool, every time I see the wips I almost vibrate out of my skin, everyone in here is insanely talented and hardworking and I’m making eyes at most of the artists to please make prints of your works after the zine please please please, I am looking at you Starry) and looking over something with a friend for their submission.

Synchrony needs to be updated soon because @moniesmonsters is staring at me about it, and since I was talking to someone about swans, I should really note something that I’d like to edit in the first chapter of Synchrony:

For anyone who has never been around swans, swans are fucking terrifying. They have bone clubs built into their wings. They are extremely territorial. They will drown you, and bite you, and chase you down to beat you with their wings. They are also a lot bigger than you think. Picture a goose and double that, and you’ve got a swan.

The idea that the Aust family kills these things for augury wasn’t just for an allegory about murdering beauty and fidelity — it’s also because the very concept of killing a swan for fortune telling is something only someone obscenely rich and obsessed with violence would come up with. Either you have to convince them to trust you and then betray that trust (turning any others on you in the process, swans are not stupid. They are dinosaurs that survived) or you have to solo a boss monster and hope it doesn’t summon help :x good luck!

Anyway Laurence really needs to comment on that, so, I think I’ll edit that chapter soon to fold it in. 

I have almost finished updates for a bunch of the fics I have posted, it’s mostly a matter of getting to focus on one, writing the last scenes needed, then corralling Monie and myself into editing it.

Some other things: Yes, you guys are welcome to send me stuff on tumblr <3 Private message, @ me, or send it as an ask, all of those are okay, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m looking forward to responding to comments on ao3, but right now my plate is full and I wanna give those my full attention, so… please be patient with me!

(And lastly, in regards to a question I got on Mare’s Nest: I keep using Izzy as a villain because he’s fun, I like him, and it’s convenient. I actually do my best to make as few new characters per story as I can, it’s faster and it makes my life easier and it’s a nice bonus for people who like the character in other works. Or, sometimes it terrifies them for no reason, like Xenia’s inclusion in Synchrony.) 

Okay, I… think that’s everything? Thanks so much for reading, and I hope everyone’s August is good so far! If you’re in the part of the world suffering extreme heat, may that pass soon. Please stay out of the sun if you can and alternate water with something that restores electrolytes, like tea or a sports’ drink. If you can’t get those, google ‘electrolyte drink recipe’. It helps with the heat fatigue and makes it a little less likely that you’ll pass out. When you’re sweating a lot, you need more than water to hydrate properly. Don’t be me and pass out because you weren’t drinking enough ^^;

[iamvegorott]

Mare comforting mad during an intense thunderstorm ⚡️

I feel it’s appropriate that people are still setting off fireworks as I write this --------------------------------------------

“Well, that looks lovely,” Mare commented, looking at the sky through the living room’s windows. The sky was covered in dark gray clouds and soon a soft rumbling of thunder was heard. “Hopefully it’s just rain.” He added, blinking and there now being a downpour. “Rude.” Mare blinked as a much louder roar of thunder almost shook the house. “Really rude.” Mare sighed and started walking for the kitchen.

Phantom and Blank had gone over to the Sepitceyes for the evening, meaning it was just him and Mad. Mad was working on a project so Mare was letting him have some alone time before butting in. Mare froze when another drumming of thunder hit, giving Mare a slap as well as he remembered how Mad was during storms.

Mare went to Mad’s room and wasn’t surprised by what he saw. Mad was curled up at his desk, hands over his ears and flinching at the next clap of thunder. Mare went over to the desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out two pairs of headphones, one with thicker padding than the other. He placed a hand on Mad’s back, giving it two quick taps.

“Mare?” Mad turned his head, hands still over his ears.

“Bones or Criminal Minds?” Mare asked with a smile.

“Bones.” Mad smiled back and got up, making a face when Mare put the thicker headphones on him. “I can put them on myself.”

“Not when I’m taking care of you.” Mare chuckled, pressing a kiss to Mad’s forehead. “This is when I get to spoil you.” Mare slipped the other headphones over his own ears. Mad thought for a second before grinning and holding out his arms, turning that grin into an exaggerated pout.

“Carry me?” Mad couldn’t keep the pout for long when Mare just looked at him and he broke out in a laugh.

“Don’t get bratty on me when I’m trying to be nice.” Mare joked but he did grab Mad and pick him up, earning a yelp. “You wanted to be carried.” Mare loved that Mad laughed so much that he didn’t even react to the newest rumble of thunder. Mare plopped Mad down on the bed. Mad laughed a little more before stretching out, squeaking when he was done.

“Shut up,” Mad said when he noticed Mare looking at him.

“Adorable.”

“Shut up,” Mad said again and rolled away to the best of his abilities, the large headphones getting in the way a bit. Mare chuckled himself and finished setting up the show and connecting both headphones to the TV’s Bluetooth. He didn’t press play just yet, thankfully the headphones on their own were pretty good at muffling. Yes, Mare had to practically shout to talk to Mad, but that was better than Mad almost breaking down. Mare then went to the chest that was at the end of the bed and popped it open, tossing the extra pillows and blankets to Mad, knowing he would set up a little ‘nest’ for the two to use.

“I could quote half of these episodes on my own,” Mare said, closing the lid to the chest.

“It’s a fun show.” Mad placed the final pillow in place, gesturing for Mare to get into the pile.

“I think one could make a comparison to us,” Mare said, sliding into his spot.

“How’s that?” Mad waited until Mare was comfortable before tucking himself in, pressing his back against Mare’s chest and hugging Mare’s arm to his own chest when it was wrapped around him.

“Sarcastic tough guy and blunt genius,” Mare said.

“I’m not that sarcastic.” Mad looked over his shoulder with a smirk.

“And my point is proven.” Mare gave Mad a kiss, tapping his headphones twice to get the show playing, getting it going just in time to prevent Mad from hearing a sickeningly loud crack of thunder, the lightning flashing from the window told them that had happened.

“I hate storms.” Mad groaned, curling up a bit.

“I know, but I got you.” Mare wasn’t sure if Mad heard him, but he pressed a kiss to the back of his head, knowing that would say enough.

[butterflies-dragons]

Sansa, Jon and Sweetness

I know that “sweetness” could be a bad omen for other characters in different contexts, but in these quotes of Jon and Sansa “sweetness” means innocence, family, dreams, beauty, desires and love.     

Sweet Lady

Remember when Jon Snow called his mare “Sweet Lady”?

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IX

As I said before, there are so many things to say about this quote:

Jon Snow, the guy who is supposed to like the warrior woman type, whispered to his mare “Easy, sweet lady”. He could’ve said “Easy, girl”, but he said: “Easy, sweet lady”. Oh Jon, you are such a romantic dork.  

Lady is also the name of Sansa’s direwolf.    

Lady and Ghost are mentioned together and linked in many passages of the Books. I love it.

At this point Lady is dead, so she is literally a ghost.

Later in the Books Jon also dies. So we have a direwolf with a dead master and a master with a dead direwolf.

And guess who is the female character that is called ‘sweet lady’ the most? Yes, the answer is Sansa.   

Red haired girls calling Jon Snow “Sweet” & Jon Snow calling red haired girls “Sweet” 

Ygritte:

Tormund frowned down at Jon. "Best go, if it's the Mance who's wanting you."

Ygritte helped pull him up. "He's bleeding like a butchered boar. Look what Orell did t' his sweet face."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Sansa:

“There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

"Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose."

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Jon:

Blood meant little and less amongst the free folk, Jon knew. Ygritte had taught him that. Gerrick's daughters shared her same flame-red hair, though hers had been a tangle of curls and theirs hung long and straight. Kissed by fire. "Three princesses, each lovelier than the last," he told their father. "I will see that they are presented to the queen." Selyse Baratheon would take to these three better than she had to Val, he suspected; they were younger and considerably more cowed. Sweet enough to look at them, though their father seems a fool.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

Red Hair exists Jon Snow: Lovely! Sweet!

Sweet Dreams of Winterfell

Jon and Sansa really want to go back to Winterfell, their home:

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so . . .

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

Sweet flowery smelling

Jon is OK with sweet flowery smells:

"Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa smells sweet like flowers:

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. He felt as though he was back on the bridge of boats, the deck shifting beneath his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

On the morning her new gown was to be ready, the serving girls filled Sansa's tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her head to toe until she glowed pink. Cersei's own bedmaid trimmed her nails and brushed and curled her auburn hair so it fell down her back in soft ringlets. She brought a dozen of the queen's favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sweet as Song

Jon seems fond of sweet voices and singing:

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

With their black hoods and thick black cowls, the six might have been carved from shadow. Their voices rose together, small against the vastness of the night. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins," they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin's voice was sweet as song, Horse's hoarse and halting, Arron's a nervous squeak. "It shall not end until my death."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa sings sweetly:

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. 

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

Sweet Bran

Jon and Sansa remembering Bran’s sweetness: 

When the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. "The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. "Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?"

"Bran?" The question confused her. "Before he fell, you mean?" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. "Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

When nine-and-ninety hostages had shuffled by them to pass beneath the Wall, Tormund Giantsbane produced the last one. "My son Dryn. You'll see he's well taken care of, crow, or I'll cook your black liver up and eat it."

Jon gave the boy a close inspection. Bran's age, or the age he would have been if Theon had not killed him. Dryn had none of Bran's sweetness, though. He was a chunky boy, with short legs, thick arms, and a wide red face—a miniature version of his father, with a shock of dark brown hair. "He'll serve as my own page," Jon promised Tormund.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

This post was so sweet to write ♡  

[copias-thrall]

This is Halloween (Halloween)

Mary expands Suey's world by taking her to a crazy art party.

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9)

It’s one of the stretches where you actually haven’t seen Mary in a few days. He’d apparently been by your apartment—dishes were done and he took out your trash—but you’d spent that day hunkered down at a coffee shop so you could have sandwiches with a friend who got a job downtown. And while Mary can be lyrical when he wants to be, his texts are usually brief and full of letters that only make sense to him in his shorthand … so you’re not ever going to get any missives from the front lines from him.

Which is fine: you’re super-busy and full of your own hobbies. Like napping. And complaining. Occasionally you’ll round that out with chip-eating. You’ve never been particularly creative—which makes Mary wince at you every now and then (you love art, you’re just not … adept, and sometimes it seems unfair that he can write music AND lyrics AND doodle great sketches)—but you are a voracious reader. You’d been shocked to find out that not only had Mary read Austen, but he also had a love of Persuasion—a novel you yourself found superior to Pride & Prejudice. He’d been similarly chuffed when he’d realized you liked Chuck Palahniuk for more than just Fight Club. 

Which is all to say that when Mary’s not around, you like to combine your hobbies—a little chip eating while you read, only to fall asleep with the book on your face. 

Tonight is no exception.

It’s nearly Halloween (it’s tomorrow actually, and you’re only slightly bummed that Mary has to work), so in honor of the holiday you’re working your way through an anthology of Lovecraft. Unexpectedly, there's a knock at your door. You check your phone, but there are no texts.

Hmm.

There’s another knock, so you set down the book and sprint to your bedroom to take up what Mary has dubbed your “Masher Hammer.” You make it back to your apartment door just in time for a third series of knocks. When you look out the peephole, however, it’s clear that whoever’s on the other side is blocking the viewer.

Gripping your hammer tight—ready for swing mode—you unlatch your door and open it.

You’re met with the sight of a Jack O’Lantern. 

No—

Not a Jack O’Lantern … some guy with a carved pumpkin on his head.

“Ta-d—Jesus Christ, Suey … put Masher down,” says a muffled voice.

“Mary?”

Mary lifts the pumpkin—a real pumpkin, not a plastic basket from the dollar store—a little off his head enough for you to make out his face. You lower your swinging arm.

“Why is there a pumpkin on your head? What are you doing here?” 

He spreads his arms out and does jazz hands. “Mischief Night!” 

When you just stand there squinting at him, he finally takes the pumpkin fully off his head. His hair is squashed, and he’s only wearing some light makeup around his eyes and on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me in, or … should I duck?”

“Oh, right,” you say as you step back.

As Mary suanters in, you can see his eyes sweep to the couch where you’ve made a nest of blankets and pillows—your book lying face down, and the open bag chips positioned at an optimal angle on the coffee table.

“That looks nice.” He sidles up to you to squeeze your tits through your hoodie. “Almost makes me want to call it a night and get cozy in those blankets … I could crush those chips and lick them off you before I eat you out.”

His hand slides down to your crotch.

You’re trying to take him seriously, but he’s holding a pumpkin under his arm. You snap at his face.

“Mary—focus. What the hell?”

He gives you a put out look, exaggeratedly pushing out his bottom lip—but it’s soon replaced with a wicked grin.

“Mischief Night! Do you wanna go to a weird-ass art party?”

“An art party?” you ask dubiously.

“No, not what you’re thinking.”

He sets down the carved pumpkin on your table and walks to your fridge, rummaging around before pulling out the pisswater beer he keeps around.

“Think of it as a teen-movie house party—but on steroids and no one there got laid in high school. With, you know: art.”

“That’s … very specific.”

He walks back over to you, cradling the beer in one hand, and puts the other on your shoulder.

“We are under no obligation to participate in the orgy.”

You don’t think he’s joking.

He gives you a once over. “It’s also a—hmm—masquerade, so we gotta get you outfitted.”

Your mind darts.

“I only have those stupid headband cat ears my friend got me as a joke.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You’re gonna go as me.”

It had been a fun little party of two as you’d put on a YouTube Halloween playlist from your phone. Mary’d given you a dramatic mohawk with his precious airplane glue, then fished around in the pink makeup bag with hearts (that you’d put his stash in as a joke and he’d kept) to give you his iconic look—blood and all.

There was no way you were going to fit in his skinny jeans, but you’d been able to pair one of his well-worn tees (that you hadn’t already stolen) with your favorite denim skirt. Mary had taken off one of his studded belts to wrap around you—it’d needed a couple of safety pins to act as extensions, but Mary had assured you that that just made the style more authentic. Upon Mary’s request, you’d put on your ripped fishnets, and you had your own worn Docs to complete the look.

“Do I get to be a sex-crazed jerk all night?” you’d asked as you’d admired yourself in the corroded full-length you had propped up by the bathroom.

“You say that as if that’s something new and different for you—fuck ow,” said Mary as you’d tapped his balls.

“So where is this place?” you ask as Mary and you head to the train. 

It’s in the old factory district, which means it’s a ways away, but still subway accessible.

“It’s actually in a converted co-op. I think they started out as squatters—unclear—but now it’s above board as a residence and shit. I used to know a guy who lived there for a while—they had sectioned off areas with screens—and he had a corner so he slept in a hammock. Most of the space is for their art, though. What a fucking life to live.”

You look at him, incredulous. “Mare. You live in a 2 bedroom with 4 other dudes.”

He scoffs at you. “We also have a couch. It’s a whole ‘nother level.”

You just hum at him.

When you finally get there—after a few mis-turns in this silent neighborhood full of abandoned brick factories—you’re surprised (despite Mary’s description) to see that the place is lit. There’s a guy standing at the entrance to the parking lot (that slopes dangerously toward the river) checking attendees; it becomes clear that not only is he checking for 21+, but for alcohol and toilet paper. Those without either have to “donate” $10.

“Oh—” says Mary right before it’s about to be your turn. “I’m not Mary tonight.”

“What should I call, then? The ‘Great Pumpkin’?”

“Just not Mary,” he hisses as you shore up to the “bouncer.”

The guy is not in any kind of costume—just grey sweats and a sports team hat. He’s sitting on a bar stool, and he has a little flashlight he’s using to check IDs.

“Hey, guys!” he says cheerily. “Welcome to Magical Mischief Mystery at the Factory. IDs? Ah! TP and suds? Cool, cool.”

He checks your IDs, then looks at you, then your IDs … then at Mary’s pumpkin face, then at you.

“OH MY GOD,” he starts chortling and slips off the stool to grab Mary’s arm. “Mary, you old bastard—I haven’t seen you since Dusty left to get hitched.”

You take a deep breath and—in your best screamo voice—you say, “I’m fucking Mary Goore,” (not a lie) “and he’s ‘Late for Dinner’.”

The pumpkin head turns to you. You can feel Mary’s unamused gaze.

The bouncer starts wheezing so hard that you’re afraid he might expire from laughing.

“Fuck, fuck,” gasps the dude. He shakes his head, eyes watery from mirth, and waves the two of you through.

“I hate you,” says Mary.

“I didn’t call you ‘Mary’, though,” you quip as you slip your arm through his.

“Why do I have to carry all the shit? Here. Pull your fucking weight.”

Mary hands you the toilet paper roll he heisted from your bathroom.

“Are we going to TP something?” you ask as you take the roll from him.

“Heh. No, it’s purely functional. This many people? It’s so the bathrooms don’t run out.”

The two of you enter with another mass of people, traveling through the miasma of secondhand smoke from the smokers. You cough, but Mary inhales deep, sighing. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you gape as you look around.

You and Mary stand on an open floor—which is what 5 or so floors look out onto all the way up. The place is crowded, but not jam packed. There’s a makeshift kitchen area where a dude in a bare chest and suspenders is accepting the toilet paper and libations. Above him is a white sheet that’s stretched out, on which an Art Film is being projected. The film has no sound because in the far corner there’s a DJ spinning, and a group of people are “dancing” to his jams. Mary was right: it’s like some kind of frat party for the artsy set. Because of the theme, most everyone is in a mask of some sort, and people—or groups of people—are making out in corners in various states of undress. 

Mary grabs two beers, then leads you to a staircase—there’s a freight elevator by it, but it’s got cheesy Halloween “do not enter” tape blocking it.

“The first year too many people loaded into it, and it dropped 3 floors before the emergency brakes kicked in,” says Mary as he notices where you’re looking.

In a loft on the second floor you and Mary watch a woman—nude and covered in white paint—become the canvas to her girlfriend’s landscape painting.

In what’s clearly a shared bedroom, you and Mary peruse some really great paintings and sketches from what must be a number of the co-op residents.

“You should have told me to bring cash,” you say.

“We can always come back. I know a guy.”

You imagine Mary’s probably winking at you.

On the third floor there’s an inexplicable open-air kitchen attached to a bathroom. In it there’s a dude doling out beer from a keg.

“What’s this,” Mary asks him.

“It’s my homemade IPA, dude! Pumpkin for the season!”

He hands Mary a business card.

“We have a small space in the boonies, but we’re trying to get a brewery up and running in the city. Red tape though, man.”

“I fucking hear that.” Mary takes a sip. “Good shit, dude.”

The guy high-fives Mary.

“One for your girl?”

Mary hands you the solo cup, and you take a sip. You were expecting something grassy and hoppy—but the pumpkin actually balances it out nicely without it itself being cloyingly sweet. When you nod, Mary just lets you have his and indicates to the brewer to pump another cup.

The two of you enter what you think might usually be a studio space, but instead there’s a burlesque performance going on. There are some people making out, but Mary and you watch, rapt, praising the skill of the performers to each other.

The fourth floor has the least amount of people. Someone is doing a reading in one corner, and across the way there’s some sort of performance art going on. A woman stands in a white shift and gauze. Every time a dude who looks like a Nazgul rings a bell, she contorts herself to a different pose with a dancer’s ease.

You roll your eyes, but Mary begs your patience—watching solemnly as she continues.

“What is it?” you ask when the set is clearly over.

“Did you not feel it?”

“Uh …”

Even through the pumpkin you can feel his eyes on you.

“She’s a dancing monkey. Bound and constrained, only ever allowed to perform at the whim of her faceless master.”

“Mary …”

“No—don’t scoff. That was meant for you. It’s an allegory for the patriarchy, and I for one found it quite moving.”

You guess you can see it now that Mary’s pointed it out to you. He takes off the pumpkin, and you hold it while he goes over to talk to the woman. You shift uncomfortably as they engage, and she grabs his hands, shaking them profusely. Mary suddenly points over at you, and the woman waves and motions you over.

“Oh my god, look at you!” she squeals. She turns back to Mary. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—she looks just like you.”

“I liked your patriarchal allegory,” you say.

Mary twists his mouth at you, but the woman just presses her hands to her chest.

“Thank you so much. I’m testing it out here as a protest piece. A bunch of us are going to travel to different cities and perform outside of big corporations.” She grabs Mary’s wrist. “Your boyfriend is wonderful. His song about—”

“—my band’s song—”

“—the nature of performative gender roles is one of my favs.”

You have no idea which song she’s talking about, but Mary looks pleased. So you’re pleased. You wrap your arm around his waist.

“He is pretty great.”

She lifts her veil to chug the glass of water Nazgul hands her.

“It was so nice to meet you person to person, Mary. I’m going to find the ladies before my next performance.”

“Love your work, Lizzy. I’ll put you on the list for our shows. Show up anytime!”

She bows and shuffles backwards as Mary leads you away.

“You have no idea what song she’s talking about do you?”

“I—” you sputter. “Uh. Dead Things?”

Mary looks at you indulgently.

“I’ll let you think about it.”

It turns out that the 5th floor is off limits to party goers, so Mary—back in his Jack O’Lantern—and you wander down to ground level to acquire more beer and to join the crowd of dancers. At some point the two of you take a break to pee, then hydrate as you add your own dialogue to the film on loop above you.

Back on the dance floor, there’s some skanking, some goth writhing, and some line dancing as the DJ spins his own set and sprinkles in some crowd requests. At this point in the night, most of the attendees have already made passes through the upper floors and are now all on the dance floor. Mary does some goth stomping (his pumpkin abandoned and now being passed around), and you do a silly skank until you slip on a slick spot and fall on your ass. After that, Mary pulls you close and grinds against you, his thigh between yours, both of you buzzed from multiple trips to the bar.

“Do you wanna find a corner?” he whispers into your ear.

In any other situation you’d probably say no … but—for all the crowd is packed—this is clearly a private party, one whose hosts don’t frown upon a little bit of lechery. You guess he wasn’t kidding about the orgy, after all.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

It takes a little investigation, but Mary and you find a room that seems to have been either designated or usurped as the makeout room. There’s a writhing mass in one corner, and the bed is covered in rolling bodies. There’re some breathy invitations—and a hand or two lightly caresses your calf as you walk by—but no one insists on participation further than that. 

Mary yanks a pillow from the bed and tosses it to the floor. He pulls you down so that you’re both on your knees, his mouth capturing yours and his hands alighting everywhere. A hand of his sneaks down your skirt, and yours slithers down his jeans—the roving fingers of you each more a prelude than anything, stoking you both up to what’s next.

“Can I fuck you?” huffs Mary.

“Kinda drunk,” you say.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—just not gonna be very useful,” you giggle.

Because you wore the fishnets you’re not wearing underwear, so all Mary has to do is rip a hole in the crotch area—they’re not even good fishnets, so it’s not like there’s a liner to contend with. He grunts at your wetness.

“You sure?”

“Fuck me, Mary.”

He fumbles with his dick, finally managing to sink it into you. It’s a very awkward fuck—you’re lolling all about the place, and Mary isn’t being particularly steady.

At one point a light turns on only for a Sorry! to squeal out as it turns off again.

You try to swallow your laugh, but your jiggling belly can’t hide your reaction, and soon Mary is laughing too.

“Fuck … shut up … fuck,” he giggles. “I’m trying to get off here.”

You’re just catapulted into further fits, and before long Mary’s soft cock is slipping out of you as he joins you in snickering.

“Crap. I might be too drunk for this too.”

The two of you lay like that for a bit, a feedback loop of laughter, until your belly muscles ache.

“Fuck. Take me home, Suey.”

“Yeah, ok,” you say. 

After some readjusting, you both stumble out of the room. The crowd has thinned, but that’s not to say the dance party isn’t still going strong.

“We should get a cab,” you say.

“Cash?” Mary asks as you guys shuffle out of the building.

“App,” you say as you hold up your phone to poke at your cab app. “My card s’on file.”

“Fancy.”

“S’for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “Like staying too late at a factory party.”

There’s a comedy of errors when the cab can’t find you and cancels, and you have to rebook—only to have the same cab automatically cancel your order again. Mary calls the number for dispatch, and they direct you out to a main street. The cab that picks you up is the same cab that voided your reservation twice, and he yells at you for giving him the wrong address.

You let Mary argue with him (content to doze on his shoulder)—the conclusion seeming to be that while you put in the correct address, the app didn’t like it and spit out a close, but different, pickup address.

By the end of the trip, however, the cabbie and Mary seem to be old friends. He lingers even after the driver validates your card, talking with the guy about where he’s from, until you tug on his arm.

“Sleepy,” you grumble into him.

The cab driver laughs.

“We are beholden to our women, yes?”

“Happily,” says Mary as he wraps an arm around you.

“Have a good night,” says the cabbie, and Mary just raps on the car, waving as it pulls away.

 “What a cool dude,” he says as the two of you shuffle toward your building.

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“Jesus, you’re useless when you’re drunk.”

There’s a lot of fumbling and stumbling, but you both finally make it into your apartment. Somehow Mary gets you into the shower, which you don’t even realize until it turns on, and you shriek when the cold water smacks you in the face before it has the chance to warm up.

“Why am I still in my clothes?!” you whine.

Mary pokes his head in.

“You fucking serious? You almost bit off my fingers when I tried to undress you!”

“I’m more than just sex!” you yell.

“Just fucking wash your face.”

“Kay.”

You fall asleep sitting in the shower, waking only when the water turns cold. It seems to have had a sobering effect, because you definitely feel more clear headed than when you entered—it’s not as funny to be slightly sober and peeling off your cold, wet clothes. Usually you give your teeth the full experience, but tonight (this morning?), you just give them a quick brush.

For all he seemed soberer of you two, Mary doesn’t seem to have fared much better. He managed to get his shirt off, but he’s lying on your bedroom floor—curled in a ball—still in his unbuckled jeans. It would be amusing—and maybe after sleep it will be—if you weren’t so wrecked. It’s a struggle tugging off his jeans, and he semi-wakes halfway through and starts to shiver.

“Wha—?”

He looks at you blearily.

“Help me get your pants off, Mare bear.”

He blinks down at his legs, then sort of squirms his legs to help you wiggle him out of the black denim. Luckily—disorientated as he is—he’s able to assist you in getting him into your bed; he conks out again the minute you trundle him under the covers. The night outside is lightening, and you know there’s no way you can work tomorrow. Today.

Whatever.

You shuffle into your living room and start up your laptop, blinking rapidly as it boots up. When it finally loads, you send off a missive to your supervisor about potential food poisoning you’ve contracted, but how you’ll check your email later this afternoon. You preemptively down some ibuprofen and sneak some of Mary’s Pedialyte.

Mary seems dead to the world when you climb into your bed, but he’s rolling over and wrapped around you as soon as you’re settled, huffing into your neck.

“Took the morning off,” you mumble.

He hums.

You’re in a good doze when he speaks, jarring you back awake.

“Had fun?”

“Yeah, Mare. Now, shh.”

He mumbles something into your neck, but it’s too incoherent and you’re too knackered to decipher it. You just relax into his koala embrace and let sleep take you.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

[jinmukangwrites]

(Don’t) Remember

Prompt

Summary: Wild was completely content going the rest of his life not remembering the past.

-o-o-o-o-

The first time Link has ever gained a memory, he vowed it would be the last. He climbed up to the base of Mount Lanayru and oh so innocently opened his Sheikah Slate to look at the picture, the memory. He remembers being excited. He had nothing back then, nothing but the few days he had gained since waking up at the shrine. There was a odd feeling that took over him as he compared the scenery to the picture, then he blinked and he found himself one hundred years in the past.

The memory was only a minute or two, but the moment he was back to reality, back in his own body, he kneeled over the vomited. He remembers feeling useless and terrified. He was that hero? He was supposed to stop that evil? It made him sick to his stomach, it made him tremble and shake and sob into the the cool dirt beneath him. He panicked and cried and stayed there for a very long time, trying to get ahold of himself. It was by luck the Lynel on the other side of the wall didn't hear him. He wouldn't have been able to defend himself.

He went back to Kakariko when he had finally gotten himself under some sort of control. He marched into Impa's house and told her he will save the princess, he will destroy ganon, but he does not need his memories to do so. Impa looked surprised, shocked even, that Link would refuse to remember any of the past, though she probably knew that there would be no changing his mind, so she simply nodded and told him to go free the Divine Beasts.

That too became difficult for Link to do. He remembers standing at a Zora girls stature and falling unwillingly into a memory about her healing him, about the hope she had that Calamity Ganon would be a simple story to tell to the future generations. Link tumbled back into his body and panicked right there in front of Sidon and that Muzu. He doesn't know if he lost respect that day, but he still was able to go to Vah Ruta and free it.

Then he was looking at a beautiful helmet sitting on the head of Riju and he could feel the memory coming. He couldn't prepare himself for when it smashed into him. He was forced inside the memory, forced to watch Urbosa and Zelda bond as he, the unwanted soldier, stood by. Urbosa had faith in him. She shouldn't have. He was just barely able to control himself when he returned to the present. After agreeing with Riju that they should head over to free Vah Naboris as soon as possible, he stumbled over to a quiet alleyway and let out the contents of his stomach and stayed there a long time, dry heaving and just barely managing to hold back tears.

And it was the same when he went to the Gorons and he saw that statue of Daruk. The same when he visited the Rito and looked at the landing pad. He was dragged into memories and he came out terrified and trembling and wishing he could forget. The memories were all too painful. They weren't worth it. He could swing a sword, the Master Sword even, just fine without them. He avoided the spots where his other memories laid and he continued his journey, his quest to get stronger, and finally he went to defeat Ganon.

He did it just fine without his memories.

"Tell me, do you really remember me?" She asked, and Link replied no, he didn't.

She seemed sad at that, but Link tried to comfort her to the best of his abilities. The old hero from a hundred years ago was dead, but Link now is alive and he would like to get to know her on his own terms.

And he did, and he never regretted it.

But, little did he know, there was another surprise memory waiting to be stumbled upon. The worst one.

The one of how he died.

-o-o-o-o-

They are at the Dueling Peaks Stable. After traveling for so long, the simple stable seems like such a blessing. Wild certainly is relieved to see it. Everyone are in low moods from the large amount of traveling they have just suffered through, most of them are starting to get snappy and full of complaint. Thankfully, just a few minutes of sitting and resting at the stable improves the spirits of the group dramatically.

Wild sits down at the campfire and happily begins to set up for dinner. Wind, Sky, and Hyrule follow after the stable master where he shows them how to care for the sheep. Four is laying in the grass, smiling joyfully as his eyes close contently. Warrior and Legend are enjoying a passive aggressive game of cards. Twilight and Time are inside the stable, setting it up with the second stable master of how to arrange beds and blankets with the sudden amount of guests, or more like trying to discuss how to pay for that. They're being demanded to pay more money because of their excessive amount of numbers. The stable isn't even relenting to Wild being there.

"Did you think you'd get a discount just because you have Link with you! Hah!"

Wild isn't surprised by it at all, in fact, he expected that to happen. Hyrule now is ran by survivors, if they see an opportunity to make a quick rupee, they'll take it. Time and the others aren't used to that. They're used to order, to something having a set value, and Wild will admit that even though they are going to get cheated, he still finds it amusing how much the dirty methods of his Hyrule throw everyone off.

The day passes lazily, yet no one complains about it. Soon enough, Wild has finished a rather large batch of smoked Hyrule bass for everyone in the stable (except for the stable masters of course, they'll have to give them a fair price if they want food). Since there are not enough tables for everyone, Twilight, Time, and Warrior all dragged large pieces of firewood out into the field and set them up around a campfire. The group sat in a circle together as a cool breeze began to blow across the land, as the blue sky began to turn darker and the first stars dare to show.

Wild stuffed a bite of fish in his mouth and sighed in content. It's hard being the cook because you get to smell the food while it's cooking and not get to eat it.

"So, Hyrule and I were walking around," Sky says suddenly and everyone looks up to him except for Hyrule himself; he's a bit busy taking large bites of his fish, so he just nods, "and we saw a herd of wild horses."

"There's a lot of them here," Wild replies. "They're rather tame here too, easy to catch."

"That's why Hyrule and I were thinking we try to catch a few, it would make traveling quicker."

"And easier," Wind mumbled and took a bite of his meal.

"That's a good idea," Time says as he wipes his mouth of the miniscule amount of grease that got on his lip.

"It's going to cost us some more rupees," Wild points out, "the stable can harness the ones we catch."

"We can afford it, you're fish saved us a lot of rupees," Twilight says, grinning. Wild grins back and looks back at the stable where the two stable masters are begrudgingly eating their own meals inside with the rest of the stable dwellers.

They talk a bit more about their plans for the next day and how much time they will need to capture nine horses, Wild says he can catch one per minute and no one believes him. They decide to head to Kakariko Village, it is the closest bit of civilization to them and Kakariko is something most of them have in common. The sun is completely gone now and the moon is beginning to rise as they chat.

They call it a night and gather into the stable. The stable masters have pulled out extra mattresses and every blanket they had so they could make enough sleeping spaces for everyone. Wild lets the stable dwellers get the beds and the group of heroes fall asleep, content, on the absurd amount of blankets on the floor. Well, except Warrior and Wind, they were hoping for beds. Time also is a bit grumbly about it, but that's just because he played the price for nine beds, not nine blanket nests.

-o-o-o-o-

"HYLIA, CURSE IT!" Legend screams as a beautiful blue and white stallion notices him sneaking up on it before running away.

Wild chuckles as he pets the nose of the black mare he had just tamed. In under a minute even. Twilight also managed to tame a horse, though his method was a bit barbaric. He wasn't expecting Twilight to full on wrestle with a horse while wearing iron boots. The mad man. Time at least had the decency to tame his horse normally.

"This place is creepy," Twilight says as he looks around the field around them. His newly captured brown and white spotted horse flicks its ear and he pats it's shoulder.

Wild hums in agreement and glances at their surroundings as well. The field itself is beautiful, it is large and filled with lovely and healthy green grass and hundreds of colorful wildflowers. What made it creepy is the maybe hundreds of lifeless guardian corpses that littered the land. They have no explanation, none of the stable dwellers know how they got there or what has killed them all. Wild didn't really care about it, whatever happened occurred a hundred years ago. Before his time.

The sound of Legend's cursing breaks through the air as Warrior gallops past on a beautiful white steed. He's grinning smugly, as if he's already planning how to rub it in Legend's face that he caught a horse first. Another Horse gallops up and Wild can see Hyrule riding on it with Wind sitting behind him. Wild hopes that their plan to get Wind a horse wasn't to launch Wind off the back of a running one, but judging by their determined looks as they got ever closer to a horse innocently munching on some wild flowers... It is clear that that is their plan exactly.

Four walks up to Wild and sits down next to him breathing hard. "I'm too small," he says, panting. Sky joins them, chest heaving as well.

"They're.… Too fast…." He says between breaths.

Wild rolls his eyes. "You guys aren't doing it right." He walks his horse over to where Time is grooming out the tangles of his horses mane. "I'll show you how it's done," he says.

Time agrees to watch Wild's horse as Wild takes off towards where a beautiful cream colored horse was nipping at the grass. Sky and Four follow along.

Legend swears again and the mare he's been chasing for the past hour streaks further away. "Legend!" Four calls out, "Wild's going to help us! You should come too!"

Legend shoots a glare over to Four and Four wears a satisfied smirk. Wild scoffs at the banter and tries not to laugh.

"Go!" Time calls out, smirking just a little.

Legend looks like he's about to refuse, but then he looks back at his runaway horse and his shoulders sink. Just like that Legend, Four, and Sky are following Wild over to the next hose.

Wild stops a small distance from the horse and crouches down ever so slightly. "Okay, first you have to make sure the horse isn't facing you."

Four elbows Legend in the stomach playfully and Legend mumbles curses under his breath. "Make sure you remember that," Four snarks.

Legend looks like he's about to argue, but then Wild hushes him with a raised eyebrow. Once it was quiet, Wild continues.

"Now, you would sneak slowly up to them, and when you're close enough you jump on. Then, comfort it so it doesn't buck you off. It's easy. Watch-"

He begins to move slowly and silently through the grass, but the horse snaps its neck behind it when Sky accidentally steps on a twig. The horse makes a distressed neigh and sprints off in the opposite direction.

"Sorry," Sky mumbles.

Wild smiles and stands up. "C'mon, let's go find it."

He runs off over to where the horse disappeared to. With the others following behind, he runs over a hill and is about to run down it when he sees the horse still again as it sniffs the flowers, but… something suddenly feels off about the area. More off than normal.

He looks down to where two guardian husks are innocently enough lying toppled on the ground and he finds himself breaking off from the others.

"Wild, the horse is that way," Legend grumbles but Wild is now ignoring them. Something… something was off. Very, very off.

He stops at the bottom of the small hill and looks at the two guardians and his mind starts to go blank. He panics when he realizes what's happening. How has he stumbled upon a memory? He has pictures of them all, and they're all places he had found so he can purposely avoid running into them. This one isn't in there.

He wants out. He wants to scream and scramble backwards because he doesn't want to know what happened here. He doesn't want to know what happened one hundred years ago. He doesn't want to know but his body is stuck, his eyes are staring at the husks and grass is tickling at his shins and Four is asking if he's alright. He would cry no, he's far from okay, if he could find his tongue. The edges of his vision is turning white and he has one final thought of terror before he's plunged into a world of fire.

-o-o-o-o-

He aches. That's the plainest way to say it. His whole body just aches. It aches as he deflects another Guardian from hitting Zelda behind him. It aches as his shield shatters. It aches as a deadly laser explodes along his side and sends him tumbling to the ground.

"Link!" Zelda screams. He can't... He can't fail her now. Not after all they have worked for. "Link, run! Get away from here, I'll be fine…"

He coughs blood into the ground but forces himself to his feet once again with his sword held out. The fire licks at his legs and his whole left side is burning like it's on fire. He can't feel his left ear. He vaguely realizes that it's been melted off.

"Link," Zelda says again, probably through tears, but he can't turn and look because there's another Guardian climbing on top of two dead ones and it's glaring it them.

He can feel his heart jump to his throat and he desperately tries to blink blood out from his eyes as the Guardian rears up and activates it's laser. Link will take this, he will take this blow for Zelda so she can run. She's too important, so important. So, so very important.

The guardian is about to fire and Link is about to close his eyes to accept his fate, but Zelda pushes him out of the way, screaming. The world tips below him and he desperately tries to find his footing. Everything explodes into beautiful golden and Link stares wide eyes at Zelda who has a glowing mark on her hand, who is killing every guardian with each pulse of golden light that erupts from her palm. He sees the guardian flicker sadly before it collapses. Zelda relaxes her posture and looks at her hand like she's surprised.

Link has just a second to think how proud of her he is, how he's not surprised, before he collapses too.

"Link? Link!"

He can feel his body being shaken and it takes all of his strength to keep his eyes open long enough to see her face, begging him not to go. To stay. To help her. "You're going to be okay, Link, we'll get help, we'll-"

Link can only smile a fraction at her before his consciousness is ripped away from him with the sound of her horrified gasp. Everything goes black.

-o-o-o-o-

"Wild?"

He's forced back into the present and he can feel every last scar on his body burn. He stumbles back, looking at the fallen Guardians in a new light that he did not want.

A hand touches his shoulder and he flinches back violently as the realization of what has happened hits him. He's just remembered something, he remembers his death. He bends over and pukes.

"Woah! Wild?!"

He tries to take a deep breath but he can't. His scars are on fire, he can feel each tendril of scarred tissue along his whole body painfully clear. He forgets to stand, and he falls to his knees and bends forward so he's leaning on his elbows, his forehead touching the ground. He's heaving for breaths and everything is so quiet but so loud at the same time.

For a second, he thinks it's like the first time, but then his stomach rebels again and a whimper is forced from his throat as his whole body twinges in agony. The air is too thick, he can't take any in, but he's desperately trying to. He hacks acid from his throat, his breakfast already out of his stomach, and he's about to continue to dry heave until he feels something touch his shoulder.

He flinches. Danger. There's danger. He has to fight- he's always fighting-

He scrambles onto his feet and pulls out his sword, facing the blurry figures in from of him. He blinks and they're Guardians, he blinks again and it's Calamity Ganon, then is Bokoblins and with each breath the enemy shifts and Wild... Link is terrified.

He swings his sword when a figure gets to close, but his weapon is instantly blocked. He can hear yelling through the ringing in his ears and he continues to fight. He has to fight. Protect Zelda. Don't die don't die don't die.

Arms wrap his arms and chest from behind and he's forced to drop his sword. He's locked against the chest of the surprise attacker and it sends his fear through the roof. He screams and kicks his legs back desperately but the restraining hold doesn't relent, it just gets tighter.

Everything is spinning and his body feels so heavy. He unwillingly slumps against his captor. He tries and fails to keep tears at bay. He can feel himself losing consciousness and he wants to fight it, he really does, but… the blackness sounds more comforting than reality.

-o-o-o-o-

Wild wakes up slowly, likes he's trying to swim through mud. Everything hurts, his chest, his head, his arms, and he almost wants to give back into sleep, but there's someone holding onto his hand.

"Wild? Are you awake, cub?"

Wild opens his eyes and blinks at the stable ceiling. He doesn't recall falling asleep here. He groans and lifts his hands to his eyes, rubbing at them until he could see clearly.

"Wild?"

"Hmm?"

He turns his head and sees Twilight sitting at the side of the bed, worry pulling his eyebrows together.

"What happened?" Wild asks. He holds back a hiss of pain as he begins to pull himself up so he's sitting.

"You tell me," Twilight says through a half-hearted chuckle. Wild gives him a look and Twilight clears his throat, sadness overtaking his features. "You… were attacking Legend, Sky, and Wind."

"W-what."

Twilight sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Wild… do you remember what happened at all?"

Wild remains silent for a few seconds, wracking his brain, until he does remember.

He remembers everything.

"Oh," he chokes. "Oh."

"No- cub, don't cry-"

But Wild is. He can feel the tears running down his cheeks as he his whole body loses strength. He slumps back down so he's lying and he brings his hands to his face. He silently let's his tears fall.

"Cub, it's okay, you're okay-" Twilight's hand goes down gently on Wild's shoulder but Wild flinches. He hates that he flinches, especially to a touch from Twilight, but the thought of touch sends nausea bubbling into his stomach. Twilight's hand whips back like he's been burned. Wild doesn't know why that hurts him so much.

"What happened?" Twilight whispers.

Wild shakes his head against the back of the pillow.

"I'm sorry."

[inkribbon796]

Useless Bravery

Summary: Virgil wants to be a real hero despite his fears and past. So he decides that, if he’s going to be a good guy, he needs to stop working with the bad guys. Something that gets complicated when the villain life isn’t quite done with him.

A/N: I like to imagine Dark sees a bit of himself in Virgil, hence the excessive force and tough love.

Virgil knew he had to face him eventually, the rest of the heroes already knew. He just had to look Dark in the eye and . . .

. . . Virgil was already getting sweaty palms. He was pretty sure this was going to end with Dark trying to stab him in the heart, and he was torn between bringing someone with him and sneaking off.

But he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt, so he decided to go alone.

Anxiety was hardly the only one to do so, Eric made a habit of sneaking off like a rebellious teenager every so often, and hell knew where Marvin disappeared off to sometimes.

In the end, Virgil put on his dark cloak and picked a time during the day, a point where him slipping off for a “breath of fresh air'' wouldn’t be questioned by anyone. He started wandering, not sure how to approach Dark without being shot by one of his flunkies.

After some thought and wandering, and what felt like eyes from the dark abyss boring into his soul, he stopped in front of a traditional Korean restaurant that Dark used as a front for “business meetings” and Virgil figured Dark would see him coming.

Awkwardly, Virgil walked into the restaurant, already noticing one of the waiters spotting him as he was talking to a patron and leaning into his collar to whisper something.

“Hey,” Virgil said to the hostess who didn’t seem to bat an eye at his presence. She just looked him up and down.

“Do you have a reservation?” She asked curtly.

Virgil mentally stalled a bit, but he managed, “Well the big guy wanted to talk to me, so I guess I do.”

“Right this way, Sir,” she smiled at him and led him to the same upstairs room he’d last met Dark in. The only difference was that Dark was waiting for him, sitting in a comfy dining chair across a table, his aura lightly ringing at the edge of Virgil’s hearing.

“Anxiety,” Dark smiled as Virgil walked in. “How nice to see you again. I was half afraid you’d forgotten our little arrangement.”

Dark gestured to the chair across from him, “Take a seat, a waiter will be along shortly.”

Virgil already felt the need to run, or jump out the window, “I don’t think I’ll be here long enough for that.”

The mob boss stood, the slim shadow — or a mockery — of a smile at the corners of his mouth, “I suppose you’re right.”

“An’ I didn’t forget,” Virgil tried to act braver than he was, trying to channel Logan or Janus a bit. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Of?” Dark urged, taking a couple of steps forward so he was closer, Virgil yelped and felt his heart trying to drop out of his chest and run away when he felt something curling around his left ankle.

Virgil took a couple deep breaths, trying to control his racing heart. Finally he blurted out, “Arthur’s dead.”

Then he braced to get hit, screwing his eyes just.

But that didn’t happen. Not even close.

Dark just let out this amused little cackle, the grip around his ankle tightening just a little, “Oh little Anxiety, I might not remember all the little details of our last encounter at the base, but my enforcer is alive and well.”

“Hate to tell you you’re barking up the wrong tree, but you are,” Virgil said, shaking his ankle free. He wasn’t lying, not technically. The guy was dead as a doornail, but the Host still breathed and walked anyways. “You’re mistaking someone else for him.”

“Who?” Dark seemed way too happy for someone who was most likely furious at Virgil. All kinds of red flags were waving in Virgil’s mind.

“Like I’d give you another hero’s identity,” Virgil told him, then summoning up every brave fiber in his body, he proclaimed, “Look if you’re going to kill me, just do it already. Not like it’s going to change the fact that the guy’s dead.”

“Kill you?” Dark let out this chilling cackle that just unnerved the anxious Side down to the bone. “Now why would I kill a useful little Trojan horse like you?”

Something in Virgil felt like he’d been stabbed, “What?”

Dark’s smile seemed to become twisted, inhuman. “Use that brain of yours for five seconds, Virgil, why would I let an opportunity like you go? It was obvious from even the first second that you didn’t belong with us and initially I’d planned to let you go with nothing more than a bloodied back and some lacerations. Then I had two of my own disappear and there you were, just needing a little push out of the nest.”

“What—” Virgil felt like the world was caving in on him. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh nothing,” Dark grinned. “Nothing short of shaving all the skin off your body won’t solve. I just infused you with a spell that discreetly went off when Anti and Mare used that device to possess you. So that every time you entered or left the base, my aura would be left behind. So I could get in easier. That last encounter at the base I was so close, I can feel it. J.J’s never had to reset me seven times before. Either he’s been getting more powerful, or I’ve been slacking.”

“You fucker!” Virgil shouted. “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“You don’t make open deals with the devil, sweetheart,” Dark scoffed.

“I didn’t make an open deal, I promised to find someone, not sneak you in!” Virgil shouted in an angry panic.

“I do have to congratulate you on such an authentic performance, I knew that kicked puppy dog look would do wonders on them,” Dark smiled, clearly ignoring Virgil’s outburst.

“You bastard!” Virgil spat. “You lying son of a bitch!”

He got punched in the gut by Dark’s aura for that last one.

“A pity no one ever taught you manners,” Dark warned, watching Virgil cough violently. “Deceit was always the best you four had to offer.”

“You lied to me,” Virgil accused. “They were all lies, weren’t they?”

Dark had the gall to look like a proud cat that had been caught devouring a cage full of prized birds. “Did you like it, maybe I should lay on the grief and betrayal more? Do you think the other heroes would buy it?”

“You monster,” Virgil snarled. “Don’t you dare touch them.”

“If they hadn’t been harboring my enforcers, they would be minding their own business and chasing their tails, but no they had to steal from me!” Dark threatened, his aura and echoes shattering briefly to remind Virgil that Dark was actually furious.

“I told you he’s dead,” Virgil insisted.

Dark’s aura started to slowly envelope the room, the ringing hurt Virgil’s ears to the point he was afraid they’d start bleeding. “I wonder how much I have to hurt you before you tell me the truth? And best of all I can just dump your unconscious body in front of their base and they’d just take you back in a heartbeat.”

“No!” Virgil felt a pulse of fear whip out of him before he could decide to use it, Dark seemed unaffected.

“I’m all but immune to you now,” Dark warned proudly. “Your little magic trick barely worked on me to begin with.”

“Get away from me!” Virgil tried to back out of Dark’s aura but it seemed to be everywhere. “Get away—”

He was spiraling into a panic attack, realizing how thoroughly trapped he was. He berated himself on coming alone. “What kind of idiot comes alone to talk to Dark?” he thought to himself critically.

“Now,” Dark took another step, Virgil panicked and tried to keep some kind of distance between them.

“Where,” he took another step, forcing Virgil to take a second retreating step or two.

“Are,” Dark’s next step made Virgil’s back hit the wall, “they?”

“He’s not,” Virgil’s voice caught in his throat, “I don’t.”

“Shame that Deceit never taught you how to lie properly,” Dark’s hand gripped onto the bottom of his chin, his black nails digging into Virgil’s skin, producing a squeak of terror from him. “You will tell me what I want to know, Virgil.”

At that second Virgil felt something like hands grip his ankles and Virgil screamed so loud his voice almost went completely hoarse as he was pulled down into what looked like complete darkness. He closed his eyes and hit the side of something hard.

Virgil was in a full panic at this point, screaming and curling himself into a tight ball, his eyes closed tightly.

“—going to bring down the neighborhood.”

Virgil felt a hand on his back and started whimpering, trying to get whoever was touching him to let go. Mental sirens going off. Let go! Let go! I’m going to die! He’s going to kill me!

Mercifully the hand pulled away from him but the sheer knowledge that Dark lurking around him had him still spiraling.

“Virgil?”

They’re not going to find my body! Do Sides even leave bodies? What idiot comes alone to meet Dark?

“Virgil?”

That time the voice got through to him, and Virgil looked through tear-blurry eyes, sure that his eyeliner and eye shadow was running, and saw the black and yellow of Janus’s cloak.

“Virgil, it’s just me,” Janus reassured. “Can I touch you?”

“Dee,” Virgil chokes out, so relieved to see another Side. He threw himself at Janus, feeling so elated he started crying again.

Janus startled at the unexpected lunge but let Virgil hug him, rubbing circles into his back. “We have you now.”

“Dark!” Virgil suddenly remembered, still worked up into a panic. “We have to get out of here.”

“I need you to calm down, you remember your breathing right?” Janus reminded. “Would you like me to get you some ice.”

“No he’s here and he’s going to kill everyone,” Virgil told him.

“Virgil, where do you think you are?” Deceit asked, a bowl of ice chunks suddenly in his hand.

Startled a little, Virgil looked around and saw he was in the apartment he used to live in with the others.

“I need to get out of here,” Virgil blurted. “He can’t find me here.”

“Anxiety should relax,” the Host announced himself from where he was standing in the Sides’ kitchen. There was blood dripping from beneath his bandages. “So long as the Host is here, Anxiety and his friends are safe.”

“You!” Virgil growled, his voice echoing a bit. “Why don’t you own up to Dark for leaving instead of letting the heroes do it?”

“The Host cannot strike before things are ready,” the Host tried to reassure but Virgil was just so angry at him.

“We could have died!” Virgil shouted. “Why not just fight Dark if you’re so powerful?”

“Because the Host is selfish and knows when to pick his battles,” the Host answered. “The city has bigger problems than the Entity’s rogue parental instincts.”

“Did you know I was being tracked?” Virgil demanded.

“Honestly the Host didn’t expect it to keep being a problem, once Anxiety begins fusing ag—”

“No!” Virgil shouted. “I’m not going back there, I’ll let Dark in.”

The Host quiet for a bit, “Anxiety is fighting against the tides of fate and time, regardless of how long it takes, Virgil will rejoin the heroes.”

“Yeah well you also told Eric he was going to spill his coffee and then he didn’t,” Virgil accused. “I can’t keep betraying them if I never go back. You knew, you knew and never told me!”

“Anxiety is a constant unpredictable variable, and the Host will not apologize for doing what he thought was right,” the Host countered.

Maybe it was because he was rattled and angry, but the Host just reminded him so much of Dark in that moment. “You’re just selling all of them out. You want us all to die?”

“Anxiety is incorrect,” the Host responded, sounding angry. “The Host is interested in protecting his doctor. He will try to save those he considers allies and friends, but the Host’s Doctor is the Host’s top priority.”

“Get out!” Janus ordered.

Virgil flinched at Janus’s yell, taking a step away from him.

“You can take that care and consideration and walk back to Dark and the heroes and tell them all to fuck off,” Deceit hissed, glaring at the Host. “You don’t get to use him like that.”

“The Host has done no such thing,” the Host defended. “Anxiety was actually in danger and so the Host removed him, the Host would have not allowed actual harm to come to Anxiety. However, if his presence is undesirable, he will take his leave.”

“You should,” Janus agreed.

The Host’s narrations began to get more hushed and cluttered, his eyes starting to bleed again, then he was gone.

Immediately Janus turned back to Virgil, looking him over, “Are you hurt?”

Virgil shook his head, “Not really.”

Janus let out an angry hiss, “I’m going to find Logan and give him a piece of my mind. Logical one my ass.”

“No! No! No!” Virgil pleaded desperately. “I can’t go back. Dark put some tracker on me and I’ll kill everyone.”

“Where is it?” Janus asked, walking over to the closet and pulling out a dark purple weighted blanket, draping it over Virgil.

“I don’t know, but he’s using it to get into their base,” Virgil rambled, pulling the blanket closer around him and over his head. “I don’t want to help him. I don’t want to be the bad guy.”

Janus felt uncomfortable and heartbroken, but did his best to hide that. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do, if you don’t mind the fact that your bedroom might have been turned into Remus’s new art studio.”

“Ugh, I’ll sleep on the floor,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “The sooner I get this curse off me the better.”

“Oh trust me,” Janus smiled snakishly. “You obviously impose and your presence is clearly not welcome.”

“Shut up,” Virgil chuckled, punching Janus’s arm. The serpentine Side chuckled a bit, and Virgil looked away hesitantly. “Hey do you guys still have that shitty, awful knock-off Dr. Pepper?”

“What type of household do you think this is, young man?” Janus sounded scandalized as he walked over to the fridge and the whole thing shook when Janus pulled the door handle and shook again when Janus closed it. He did underhand a can of soda to the anxious Side. “What are they even feeding you over there?”

“Fruits and vegetables?” Virgil carefully held the can away from him, and more importantly his blanket, in case Remus had maliciously shaken all the cans. He looked around to see the couch oddly vacant of its usual occupant. “Where’s Agent Orange?”

“Hell if I know,” Janus dismissed, grabbing himself a drink as well. “Hopefully not getting into trouble, he’s been walking off a lot lately.”

“I hope he does get arrested, sometimes he creeps me out,” Virgil admitted. “Means I can crash on his couch without him standing over me and watching me sleep.”

“Just get some rest, Mr. Hero,” Janus told him. “When you wake up we’ll try and see if we can find that tracking spell.”

“What if Dark comes back?” Virgil asked.

“He won’t,” Janus promised, desperately hoping this one didn’t turn out to be the lie. “Sleep, rest, and everything will be better soon.”

It took awhile for Virgil to calm down enough to take a nap. It wasn’t that it was late in the day, but the anxious Side was exhausted and Janus wanted him and calm and rested for they tried anything involving Dark.

[gascon-en-exil]

Joining the Game Late: S1E5 “The Wolf and the Lion”

Synopsis

Robert opines that it is not in fact good to be the king. Time for the token(ish) gay couple, yay! Arya does some convenient eavesdropping, the local pasttime of King’s Landing. Theon gets more awkwardly delivered backstory, now with penis. Tyrion gets his first kill. Catelyn’s sister has Issues. Ned and Robert break up, and Robert and Cersei’s marriage sucks in a complicated way. Jaime kills Ned’s #2 for Tyrion’s kidnapping, and the violence just keeps getting more circular. Jon and Dany are Lord and Lady Not Appearing in this Episode.

Commentary

Hold my wine, because five episodes in and we’re finally introduced to the first not!French character and his relationship with the youngest Baratheon brother. Loras Tyrell gets a pretty flashy introduction, unseating that Mountain guy from the last episode in a joust by taking advantage of his opponent’s mount being a mare in heat (which...why would you use it in a tournament then?) all the while decked out in shining armor with flowing accents and making eyes at his boyfriend in the stands. Then they get a follow-up scene where Loras reveals that he doesn’t like otters but does like kings, and it’s a good scene to demonstrate that he and Renly have actual chemistry as a couple while also conveying the political advantages of taking a king’s younger brother as a lover, even a gay one. Loras apparently also gives really messy head, but that could just be for the sound effects since they can’t actually show it. We do however get a second or so of Theon Greyjoy’s cock as he’s fucking a woman who might be the famed Ros of Winterfell, but that scene feels comparatively pointless because Theon himself has yet to have a point.

Onward to other people. The Starks find themselves increasingly in conflict with the other great families of Westeros, not just the Lannisters as suggested by the title after Catelyn took Tyrion captive but also the Baratheons since Robert wants to kill Daenerys and her baby before they pose a threat to his reign. I don’t quite understand the politics behind Robert’s falling out with Ned and Ned’s resignation - if the king and all the rest of his council are in agreement that they should kill Dany, why does it matter so much if the Hand opposes? - but it’s good character drama that further builds up King’s Landing as this nest of treachery and false friends. Jaime escalating the situation into armed combat at the end of the episode over a different matter entirely all the while Ned is still digging into Jon Arryn’s death keeps the various wheels of the plot moving right along while keeping audience attention on what appears to be the most important storyline at the moment. I know it takes Dany and the Dothraki something like six seasons to cross the Narrow Sea, and it’s not a baby that’s driving them.

I joked above about how this episode cut away from most of the plot threads outside King’s Landing, but I think it works to its credit. Scenes like the confrontation between Littlefinger and Varys, or Arya eavesdropping inside a dragon skull, or especially the fraught marriage drama between Robert and Cersei really work well even if there’s not a lot of action in between. The few times that cut away from King’s Landing are effective in their rarity too, such as Bran expressing his resentment over his mother’s departure or the scene introducing the imposing Eyrie and the clearly unhinged Lysa Arryn. There’s even an offhand remark in the council scene linking Dany’s servant/advisor Jorah Mormont to the spy networks of Westeros, which I found handy to know since until now I haven’t found him very compelling.