#when you was at your lowest tell me where everybody was at?

[misscongeniality18]

Hi! I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH SO I'M HERE AGAIN! This time I would like to ask you to write something about Kaz Brekker and reader where she is like a longtime friend and a member of the Crows. The two have always had feelings for each other but never spoke about it so, when they argue because something dangerous happens, the truth comes out and a smut at the end?! I love this prompt so much. I don't know why but I'm so obsessed with best friends to lovers!

OMG girl yes, I love this trope too! This is my first fic with any smut, but I'll try my best! I also didn't mean to make this so long, but it just sort of happened?

Movement - Kaz Brekker (18+, Minors DNI)

Synopsis ! You and Kaz have been friends forever, but lately, you couldn't help but want something more. When the two of you are put in danger's path, both of your truths are out in the open. Pairing ! Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, angst, fluff, smut Warnings ! Violence, blood, danger, language, reader is the only one who can touch Kaz, maybe slightly ooc Kaz?, kissing, nudity, sexual content (fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex [wrap it up people]) Word Count - 3047

" When you move

I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move

I could never define all that you are to me "

- Movement, Hozier

Masterlist Request Guide

You and Inej ran across the rooftops, jumping from gable to gable. Tonight's heist had a plentiful bounty that sat nestled in Inej's pockets. The two of you had been charged with stealing some pieces of the Ravkan crown jewels that had been taken from the palace and illegally sold.

What did Kaz want with stolen jewels? He may be your best friend, but not even you could read his mind. He had tells, of course, as did almost everybody, but Kaz’s past made him especially skillful at hiding them. You knew this all too well.

After all, you had been the one to pull him out of the harbor.

You had been infected with firepox like Kaz and his brother, but Jordie was the only one who perished out of the three of you. You didn’t know them personally at the time, only in passing. When you and Kaz were both dumped into the harbor with the others who had died, thought to be dead yourselves, you had woken up to same horrors of rotting corpses around you and the feeling of cold, mushy flesh.

While you had been around death and illness before—witnessing your parents die of the disease—Kaz hadn’t seen anything like this until then. He’d had to use his brother’s body as a life raft to swim to shore. You’d grown up swimming in a nearby fishing village, so you swam to shore easily. When you saw Kaz struggling, you’d reached out to him, and he’d hung onto you for dear life.

That night had been traumatizing for him, and for years afterwards, he was unable to touch anyone. It took several more years to get him to touch you, and you’d been patient and worked with Kaz to get used to the feeling of skin on skin again. But it could only be you. Anyone else, and he’d be right back in the water.

You were always there to pull Kaz out of the murky depths, witnessing him at his lowest. You were also there to see him in his triumph of leading his Crows and defeating Pekka Rollins. Finally, he could rest, and Kaz wanted to do it with you.

While planning heists, of course.

Kaz didn’t want you going along, and he’d always try to persuade you to stay behind or at least stay by his side. He always had a soft side for you, so he’d usually meet you halfway. You were in the same boat; your connection to Kaz originated from your soul, and you’d do anything to appease him. But tonight, Kaz wasn’t there, so you took the opportunity to join Inej on the rooftops.

You just didn’t expect anyone to shoot you.

Kaz stormed into your room at the Slat, the door slamming into the wall behind him as he took in your white undershirt lifted just enough to reveal the bloodied gash on the side of your ribs. “What the hell happened?”

You rolled your eyes as Jesper held you down while Nina worked to heal the wound in your side. “It’s a scratch, Kaz. I’m totally fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything serious.”

“Bullet?!” Kaz exclaimed in shock. “I was told you fell off the roof.”

Wylan, from his spot in the corner of the room, hummed in opposition. “That was after she was shot.”

You suddenly let out a groan, squirming in Jesper’s arms. Kaz rushed over as fast as he could, ignoring the searing pain in his leg. “Move, Jes.”

Kaz took Jesper’s spot in keeping you still while Nina finished healing you. “It’s going to leave a scar, but you should be fine by the morning. Good thing the bullet never actually went through you.”

“That will be enough, Nina,” Kaz said lowly, and everyone knew to clear the room as fast as they could.

As soon as the others were gone, you sighed, pulling your undershirt down to cover your bandage. “Say what you’re going to say and get it over with.”

“How the fuck could you be so stupid? Joining Inej on the roof, of all places? Why not be with Nina or Jesper on the ground? We all know how clumsy you are, so it was just a matter of time before you fell off, and oh, look. You did!”

You snorted. “Like Wylan said, that was after I was shot.”

Kaz glared at you as he paced the room, leaning heavily on his cane. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“Nothing ever does. You never let me do anything.” A child-like pout formed on your lips, and Kaz wanted to tuck your bottom lip back in place.

He refrained, however. “I have my reasons.”

“Saints, Kaz,” you huffed, sitting up and carefully standing, trying to keep your bandages in place. “If you’re not going to let me go on jobs, why am I even here?”

Kaz met your eyes, the most intense and unique shade of blue you’d ever seen. “When we were young, we promised to stick together. Don’t you remember?”

You swallowed, memories flashing behind your eyes; pinkies interlocking, teary eyes, and yes, the promise that the two of you had made.

“Of course I remember, you idiot,” you replied, holding out your pinkie finger.

Kaz glanced down at it out of the corner of his eye, dead set on refusing, but he could never say no to you. He sighed, linking your bare finger with his gloved one. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he whispered, deep and low in his throat.

You shook your head, lips turning upwards. “You will never lose me, Kaz. I’m yours forever.”

Something crossed his eyes for a brief moment, something you’d never seen before.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Do you mean that? That you’re mine?”

You furrowed your brow, searching his face, but he turned away. “Kaz? What is it? Why are you asking me this?”

He sighed your name, closing his eyes. “I—I think I…The way that I feel about you…I think it’s…I think…”

Kaz trailed off, his chest rising with every breath, unable to finish his sentence, and he turned away. But his shield dropped, and you were able to see every emotion he was feeling.

Now you recognized what you were seeing. You’d just never seen it in Kaz before. It all made sense. The way he never wanted you in harm’s way, how he would always turn to you for advice, secrets that only you knew, the smiles that appeared only when you were around. Kaz cared for you. He…

He loved you.

Your heart soared because you loved him too. You have for a while now, but you’d never been able to act on it. Yes, Kaz was able to touch you, but in this capacity, you weren’t sure.

Taking the small step to close the distance between you was terrifying, but you were meant for terrifying things.

“Yes, Kaz,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

You looked down at his lips, the palest of pinks. Your breaths intermingled, you were so close. “Are you… Can I…?”

You hated that you couldn’t get the questions out. It was Kaz, but you still felt like you should know him well enough not to ask. But since it was Kaz, you had to. You didn’t want to do anything he wasn’t ready for.

“I’ve never… I don’t know how,” he admitted, turning away from you, cheeks turning the color of his lips.

“It’s okay,” you said, slowly lifting a hand. At your inquiring gaze, Kaz nodded. Your hand was warm against his cool skin. “I’ll follow your move.”

Kaz inched closer, noses brushing. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, eyelids fluttering. “Yes. Are you okay?”

He let out a breath, sending gooseflesh over your skin. “Yes,” he answered, and then his lips touched yours.

It was like no kiss you’ve ever had before. The others you’d kissed had been rushed, a frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth. But Kaz’s kiss, it was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to stop time itself and stay in this moment with you.

All in all, you were seeing a different side of Kaz. He usually had a hard exterior, the ruthless Bastard of the Barrel persona he had created. When he was alone with you, he was more relaxed and open, but still haunted by the ghosts of his past. You’d never gotten to know the boy he was before, only the one you had helped out of the harbor.

Was this who you were seeing? Not Kaz Brekker, but Kaz Rietveld? A boy who was curious and sweet-natured, tender and benevolent?

Then his tongue stroked your bottom lip, and you jumped in surprise.

“Was that wrong?” Kaz asked, panic lighting up his eyes.

“No,” you said, shocked. “It was right.”

Kaz grinned at you, a true smile this time, not the little thing he did as the notorious gang leader, and his gloved hands gingerly touching your waist, careful of your injury. “Can we do it again?”

You returned the smile. “Yes.”

He kissed you again, much more confident and sure than before. When his hands moved across your waist, brushing your bandaged side, you gasped.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your lips between kisses.

You hummed, chills running down your spine when his hands gripped your hips. “It’s okay.”

“I’d like to try something else, if that’s okay?”

You pulled back a hair’s breadth to look into his eyes, his pupils blown wide, and you knew how much your kisses were affecting him. “Are you sure? This isn’t moving too fast for you?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and I don’t want to wait any longer. I just…” He lowered his head, stray bits of his hair brushing against your bare shoulder. “I’ve never done this before.”

You brushed away the hair that had fallen forward, lifting his head to you. Your fingers tangled themselves in his dark locks, silky and fine to the touch. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Kaz leaned forward and kissed your forehead, a simple, gratuitous kiss, and then he brushed his lips across your temple, your cheekbones, your jaw, and then the crook of your neck. He was experimenting, finding each touch a new and thrilling way to explore you. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against your shoulder.

You had your head tilted back, eyes closed. Every single one of Kaz’s kisses tingled against your skin, and your breath came out in pants. “Yes,” you gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Kaz continued to press kisses to your shoulders, across your collarbone, against your throat. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Do whatever you want,” you breathed.

“And if I want to take your shirt off?”

You opened your eyes, lids heavy with want. Kaz’s eyes were blazing with a fire you’d only ever seen when he’d defeated Pekka Rollins, but that had been a sinister and triumphant flame, and this was burning only for you out of desire.

“Then take it off.”

Kaz fingered the hem of your shirt, lifting it ever so slowly. He avoided the bandage on your side, and when the garment was over your head, he tossed it to the floor.

“Saints,” Kaz cursed, gazing at your bare skin and breasts. “You’re so beautiful,”

You pulled him towards you, kissing him feverishly. “Touch me, please.”

Kaz ran a hand over belly, up your ribcage, and lightly trailed his fingers over the swell of your breast, causing you to gasp in his mouth. “Is that good?” He asked, his voice low and coarse.

“Yes.”

“What about this?” He inquired as his thumb brushed against your nipple.

“Yes,” you whined, enjoying his experimentation. He wasn’t trying to be seductive, you knew, but Saints, he was doing a very good job. Your lower belly fluttered, and desire pooled between your legs.

“And if I were to…”

A gasp left your lips as his mouth closed around a nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. One of his hands squeezed the breast not occupied by his mouth, and the other settled low on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass.

Your own hands gripped the collar of Kaz’s shirt, and you pulled him towards your bed. He moved to support you as the two of you lowered to the mattress.

Kaz gazed down at you, bare and flushed for him, glowing in the candlelight. You really were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. If it was between you or mountains of gold, he’d choose you in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d even give the gold to Pekka if it meant keeping you forever.

You trailed your fingers over the expanse of his clothed chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath. Then you undid one button, and then another, and another. You blinked up at him, searching him for hesitation. “Is this okay?”

Kaz nodded, starting to undo some buttons himself, and your fingers met in the middle to slide the fabric over his shoulders together. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to you, feeling his bare chest against yours as your lips met again. Legs opening to accommodate his body, you held him to you, and you never wanted to let go.

Hands were everywhere, to your surprise. Never before has Kaz touched you like this, so unreserved and wanting. Before, he would give you a hand to help you up, or a simple pat on the shoulder for a job well done. But this, you didn’t want him to stop.

His hands brushed against the fastenings of your pants, and the hesitation set it. Kaz’s throat bobbed, and before he could say anything, you reached down and undid the buttons yourself, shimmying the material over your hips and kicking it to the floor.

Kaz raked his gaze over you, a faint blush creeping over his skin. He licked his lips, his fingers sliding down your hip, over your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you felt yourself melting under the intensity of his desire. “Can I?” He asked, and you opened your legs in answer.

One finger ran over your seam, and your breath hitched. Then Kaz spread you, the pad of his finger brushing against the tiny bundle of nerves that made you moan. Kaz looked up at you, mischief gleaming in his eyes, and he touched you there again.

Your head thrown back, you gripped your sheets tightly, the anticipation making you squirm. Kaz followed the trail of your wetness to your entrance, and he drew tiny circles around you, and your hips bucked in search for more. This made Kaz curious, so he slowly pushed his finger into you, and you sighed.

You were so warm and wet, Kaz found. And the more he moved his finger, withdrawing it from you before sliding back in, the wetter you became. The sounds you made stirred something within him, setting his heart to pounding.

Then you moaned his name when he hit a certain spot inside of you.

“Kaz.”

He lifted his head to you, and you were watching him, your pupils so dilated, they covered the beautiful color of your irises. Your chest was rising and falling as you stared at him, and then you sat up, causing his finger to leave your warmth.

You reached for him, pulling his face to yours in a kiss. “I need you,” you whispered against his lips, and your hands were creating a trail down his chest and to his belt. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Kaz said, and his hands joined yours in unbuckling his belt. Together, you removed his pants, and Kaz kicked off his shoes.

You slid a hand between you, touching the hard length of him with your fingertips. A groan left him, and his head dropped to rest against your shoulder. You pressed a kiss to his hair as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving up and down. He grew harder with every stroke, and he began to press kisses to your neck and shoulder.

An idea sparked in your mind, and you hooked one leg around his hips, flipping so you were on top. Kaz’s eyes went wide, and he met yours as excitement and expectation set in. You continued to stroke him, and as you moved to hover over him, you asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he replied, and he crashed his mouth to yours as you slowly lowered onto him.

Saints, this was better than your hand. You were extraordinary. Mouths moving against one another, bodies joined in a way that was so intimate, nothing would ever take its place. This was heaven, and Kaz would never be the same after this.

You moved, sliding your hips away from his before returning back to him. Every stroke of you around him made Kaz’s insides tighten until it felt like he was going to burst. He ran his hands over every inch of you he could reach, over your arms and shoulders, your waist, and following the movement of your hips.

The moans continued to leave your mouth even as you kissed him, and when you muttered that you were close, he felt you tighten around him, and that was his undoing.

Everything within Kaz shattered, as if something snapped within him. He held you against him, not wanting to let you go. When your breath returned, you slid off of him, the evidence of his release sticking to the insides of your thighs.

“Will you hand me my shirt?” You asked, collapsing beside him.

Kaz leaned over the side of the bed, grabbing the thin undershirt you had been wearing. You cleaned him off first, then yourself before throwing the shirt back to the floor. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Kaz held you close, and you tucked your head underneath his chin. Your legs were intertwined, and so were your fingers, the sweat making your bodies stick together.

This moment was perfection, Kaz thought, and he nuzzled your hair.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Your lips turned upwards in a smile as you pressed them lightly to his chest, eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

“I love you, too.

[keruimi]

Her Radiance

Pairing: Giyu Tomioka x reader

Warning: Angst, spoilers I think (Not sure)

Note: Hi everyone! Before all of this, we have reached 50 followers (which is already a lot for me) it meant the world to me. These days, I have been thinking of what to post and since I want to cry, I read the manga again that gave me this idea. There's one request in my inbox for almost two months requesting for a Giyu fluff but I'm having a hard time fulfilling it so I chose Giyu for this oneshot to make it up for them. I hope all of you enjoy it and comment your thoughts about it! (I enjoy reading them)

_____________________________

It has been six years since I met her. A woman whose grace and beauty match up with the swans.

A woman who became the Light Hashira. A title that has been given to her by the people who started to love her.

An unknown woman who just started to light up someone's world like a mother. She, whose status is like an older sibling in the corp.

A woman who made my eyes wander around my surroundings, just to at least catch a glimpse of her comforting beauty.

A person who became my weakness.

It all started when I reached the age of fifteen. Someone who asks for shelter in the pouring rain. A simple request that started everything.

When I first met her, her eyes held an exhausted gaze. A woman I thought wouldn't want to continue to live. Her silent silhoutte around the Ubuyashiki manor didn't move my heart at all.

That's why I thought I wouldn't fall in love with her.

Until she started to change like something came up to her. She started to become someone's comfort. Ranging from the lowest status on the corps till the highest.

Her once dull presence became something so warm and comforting

That I can't get enough of it.

I can't even count how many kakushis and slayers grew up under her wing. Until she became respected by everybody.

Until she got the title of the Light Hashira.

And one thing led to another. Thoughts about her keep appearing out of nowhere.

Until my mind completely has been filled with thoughts about her.

Yet I knew, that she would not see me more than a comrade of hers.

We have no interactions. But my eyes would always be on her form.

Her form where the smile on her lips never leaves. An eye which is filled with happiness.

Anyone would think that she is a fragile person because of her kindness.

But I think that nothing can break a woman who's already broken.

Because I knew, she also had a past like the rest of us. No one ever arrived at the corps with someone they love.

They always arrive alone. And their loved one would follow suit.

The thoughts on her mind remain hidden until she gets drunk after a celebration.

It was the first interaction I ever had with the woman I secretly admire.

"I was a product of my parents' first marriage. We were happy until their divorce occurred in my life"

I heard her mumbling behind me as I kept giving her a ride on my back to the way to her manor.

"They started to have their own family and I got completely left out. Like I never existed in their life" she slurred out but I can fear the emptiness of her tone.

"But my brother..."

"He became the second parent to me" I started to feel liquid on my shoulders making me halt on my steps.

"Until he left this world without me. To every kid or person I met, to the people I became nice with, I never forgot to mention him" she stuttered out as she began to chuckle.

"Like telling them that the person they love, grew up in the care of someone loveable like him." She reaches out her hands to the clear night sky like she is trying to reach the moon.

"I became someone like him to continue his footsteps that became the light in my own world. He is the sole reason why I chose to continue"

"That's why... I will not hesitate on dying, even if I'm scared of it" she rested her head back into my shoulder as I felt how my eyes started to gloss.

"Because I knew he was waiting for me"

And I confirmed that night. No one should love them because they won't be able to learn how to love you back.

Because they have already fulfilled their own goals.

I knew that, but I can't help myself fall in love more. I want to love her, the same way she loves others.

So she will feel again the emotion that she said to have lightened her world.

Yet, I can't fulfill that one simple goal.

When the fight with the demons started. I keep wishing, that the Gods can kill me just for her stead. Just for her to continue living even if she wants to reach her end.

I fought my eyes to keep open and my body to move when I saw her handling Muzan alone when we were thrown to the building.

I need to get up

Because if I don't, I will completely lose her from my grasp.

Get up

Like how I lose the people I love.

But my body won't follow my mind. I watched her fight without faltering, even with many injuries that began to be put in her body.

Get up

And my vision finally turned black. The moment I opened it again, I focused on fighting that my mind completely forgot about her in that one moment.

That one moment its a lot of time that made her slowly slip away from me.

And I'm not aware of it.

Fighting the demon version of Tanjiro made me wear out too.

And after that, I wanted to rest without a doubt.

Until she entered my mind again

"Y/n-san! Quick! Heal her!" I look back faster than I have ever done and saw her being surrounded by a lot of kakushi.

My feet quickly moved on their own accord but it lost its strength when I was close to her.

But I didn't manage to touch her.

"Giyu-san!"

Y/n...

I forced myself to crawl towards her and saw her eyes looking at the morning sky above us.

I quickly reached for her hand and felt her slow pulse that made tears fall from my eyes.

"Y/n, don't leave please" I found myself whispering to her as a Kakushi helped me get closer to her while others tried their best to heal her.

"Giyu" I heard her speak weakly that made me raise my head from the dirt to look at her.

"You were so lonely when I first met you..."

"It reminded me how the world ruined who I am. How my destiny tortured me" she stuttered out as she began to gasp heavy breaths that made me tighten my grasp on her hand.

"We were both lonely people that chose different paths"

"You reminded me who I was back then. You were the reason why I felt like I started to heal the wounds I obtained from those painful battles I fought by myself." The tears that have been built up from her eyes started to escape making me rest my head on her arm to stop myself from crying.

"Thank you, because you made me feel I am not alone. Made me feel like I am no different from others"

"I thought I could heal you... But I couldn't..."

I can feel her slowly losing her breath that made a sob escape my lips.

"That's why..."

"I'm sorry"

I heard the other people around me hold back their own sobs as someone's hand gently closed her eyes that made me break down crying.

As I finally felt her last heartbeat.

[hanzajesthanza]

“what does geralt get from that friendship…”

another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.

the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.

that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.

but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.

I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.

so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.

‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’

this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.

each day is not lived, but endured.

day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.

in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.

without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.

‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’

No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.

because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.

‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’

someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.

and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.

Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.

dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.

while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.

and what else does this friendship save him from?

not only from others, but from himself.

worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.

dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.

and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—

Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!

to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.

'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'

'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'

The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.

'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'

it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?

did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?

by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.

indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.

so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?

an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.

[sysakiddo]

I finally edited chapter 6 of diplomacy au y'all! I struggled a bit with a burnout after getting my degree in january lol but hopefully it won't take so long for another chapter to appear!!

ao3, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“It's like watching the most awkward first date happen in front of your eyes. And you know, of course, that they are not going to fuck.” Max says after taking a long sip of his third gin and tonic. 

Everybody who hears him laughs, already watching the couple standing by the bar. Charles tugs his ear in what seems to be a nervous tick while Sebastian casually leans on the chair, even though he is everything but casual. He watches every move of the man in front of him, shuffling his feet a bit when Charles licks his lips after a sip of his skinny bitch. 

“Pathetic,” Alex laughs, not unkindly. “It seems to me like there is no salvation for them,” George adds, leaning forward on the couch they all squeezed on to see the show in front of them. 

Anne doesn't feel like this is something she can ask them about. That is not to say that she is not terribly curious and confused about how one could refuse Charles Leclerc giving them heart eyes while biting his lips. Instead, she breaches a topic she thinks is a safe zone. “If you think this is tacky, how did you guys meet?” 

Daniel looks at his hands immediately, a nervous huff escaping from his lips. He hates telling that story. He rarely ever thinks about that time now unless he really needs to. The swirling of the ice in his negroni makes a loud noise. 

Because truthfully, Max met Daniel at his lowest. It was in his LA house, where he spent most of his time, the D.C. office vacant more often than not. They turned up just as the sun was setting, Sebastian and Max. It was the older man who insisted on introducing them.

Daniel straight out refused. He didn't care about Sebastian’s little charity project. It went too far, saving aggressive puppies, Jesus. He did not want to meet anyone named Verstappen when he wasn't paid to do so. 

Daniel was barefoot, his swimming trunks still a bit wet. The LV shirt had an obnoxious pink print and it was slipping from his shoulders. It was late enough that he was glowing from the sun, the diamonds on his necklace shining. He looked at the wunderkind, at Max, the youngest ambassador in the US ever. 

Max wore a three-piece suit despite the day being too hot for it. His Berlutis were gleaming, and he was straight-up glaring at Daniel.

“Howdy,” he grinned at them. Sebastian assessed Daniel's pupils, shaky hands and a sheen of sweat on his forehead with a grim face. He gave him the pep talk about easing off the drugs just a few days ago. Max extended his hand, and Daniel shook it. It was a reflex. Max’s palm was warm and soft. 

Sebastian cleared his throat. “As I told you, Max, this is Daniel-” 

“I, of course, know who he is.” Max didn't let Sebastian finish his sentence, coming off unnecessarily rude. Daniel laughed awkwardly. 

“Sounds like I'm famous, baby.” he winked at Sebastian and from the corner of his eye, he saw Max visibly cringe. 

“We met at work, Anne. Sebastian introduced us when we were all in the USA. He is painfully proud of that, calls himself a matchmaker and everything.” Max huffs out a laugh. He knows Daniel feels uneasy and puts the target on his back to protect him. Like usually.

“Who did the first move then?” Anne asks, just as Charles, who lost Sebastian somewhere on the way between the bar and the table, makes it back to them. 

“Oh, Daniel did. It was very romantic.” Max says matter of factly. When Daniel finally looks up, he is surprised to see his eyes foggy, as if he is experiencing the moment for the first time again. 

Nevertheless, Daniel huffs, mad that Max always uses his version of the story. “Romantic? You slapped me!” 

“Well, it is only right I did,” Max shrugs. “I, of course, thought you were making fun of me.”

Charles giggles, which is honestly progress. He was the one who took the fall, consoling Max after he returned from their dinner, fidgeting with his fingers, two red stains high on his cheeks. His voice sounded like he was eating gravel for dinner when he told him Daniel had kissed him. He was rapidly blinking like he was trying too hard not to cry, and Charles still thought it was the best proof of his professionalism, the fact that he hadn’t laughed to his face right there. But. He locked himself in the bathroom after Max somehow calmed down, turned on the faucet, and laughed hysterically. 

Max originally feared Daniel had figured him out and was just playing mind games. He thought Daniel was ridiculing him, or worse, he tried a new technique to manipulate and eventually blackmail him. What enraged him the most was the fact he wasn't prepared for it. He hasn't read a tutorial named what-to-do-when-your-counterpart-kisses-you in any of the assigned readings in the university. 

The only emotion Daniel felt when Max slapped him across the face immediately after the kiss was pure humiliation. He couldn't believe he read the signs wrong, him, Daniel Ricciardo. It was unheard of. Plus, Max did kiss him back for a few seconds. But then. 

And Daniel felt stupid and walked home alone and got drunk alone and fell asleep alone. 

Now, Daniel looks at Max with deep empathy. He squeezes his thigh, smiling. 

“Well, that shitshow was still a lot better than Baku,” Charles says with a grimace. That wasn't Max stuttering and rubbing his red eyes furiously; that was Max throwing random things across the room, his scream ricocheting through the whole hotel floor. 

Daniel snapped at Charles, “No, we’re not talking about Baku!“ Charles smirked, looking at him with a look that meant trouble. But Daniel has never in his life been scared of Charles. He was such a sweet kid before he fell under Seb’s influence. He takes a second to mourn the version of him he knew before he introduced Seb to him. 

“Always you are mad because you don’t want to admit you were wrong. Christian also said you of course did not act according to the protocol.” Max buts in, chronically unable to get over things. 

Daniel turns to Max with a stormy expression, the empathy all but gone. “Christian would also suck your dick if you asked, I don't see how his opinion is valid in this situation.” he spits out.

Charles hums, taking another sip of his skinny bitch. “He does seem to touch you an awful lot, when you are together, Max.” 

“That’s exactly my point, thank you, Charles.” Daniel is done, scoffing. 

Max, however, is just about to start another rant. “But Daniel, I told you your tactic wouldn't work. You pulled out of the negotiations too soon, it was very amateurish from you, you must admit at least that. Who leaves the negotiating table with no backup plan?” he gets into it, flaring his hands around like an octopus. “It just buggs me, you know, that you still blame me. You of course made a mistake, Daniel, and that happens but it was a stupid rookie mistake and you should have apologized-” 

Daniel stands up abruptly. “Hey, Max?” 

For a frightening second, Anne thinks he is going to deck his husband right there.

Max just hums, looking up. “I love you,” Daniel says surprisingly, bending down and giving Max a loud, smacking kiss. Then he turns around and leaves to the bar to stand next to Sebastian who resurfaced in the meantime. 

When Anne looks at Max, he is red as a tomato, glaring at the straw in his drink. “Well, what was I saying-” he stutters, interrupted by the laughter of the men sitting across from him. 

“I can't believe this shit is still working out for him, oh my god.” Alex wheezes. 

“Manipulative bitch,” George quips, still giggling.

Max is unimpressed. “Don't call him that.” he snaps and glares at him, George shutting up immediately. 

Charles looks at Anne and smiles a little. “I think maybe it is time for us to go home. I'm terribly tired. What do you think?”

Anne nods, pointedly not saying anything about noticing how Sebastian kept yawning at his spot beside Daniel. 

||

Daniel doesn't understand why he wakes up at first. It's pitch black, the blackout curtains doing their job properly. He stares at the ceiling for a bit, then closes his eyes to make himself fall back asleep. 

“Ik zal het oplossen.” Max meowls in Dutch next to him. “I just need more time! Ik zal het halen, dat beloof ik. No, no!” 

It clicks for Daniel, Max's rigged breaths, which he has not noticed before. The night air is suddenly too cold. 

He runs his hand up and down Max's forearm, not saying anything but his name to wake him up. When Max snaps out of his dream, his whole body violently twitches, and he slaps Daniel's hand away. 

“Hey, it's okay now,” Daniel isn't deterred, his hand finding a way to Max's hair, waiting him out. “It was just a dream. You are safe.” 

Max's breaths come out staggering like he just returned from his run. After a few minutes, he finally opens his eyes and looks at Daniel. A macabre grimace is on his face, something that wanted to be a smile. 

“I wasn't prepared again, Daniel,” he whispers. Daniel hums, not answering in any way, even though he subconsciously clenches the fist that's not playing with Max's hair. 

“You are safe with me,” Daniel says, trying to ease Max's shivering and make the haunted flicker in his eyes go away. He never shared any gruesome details about his time in military school. But. It's not like he had to. “Do you maybe want to take a shower?” he asks him and Max hesitantly nods.

They only fall back asleep when the birds are already chirping outside.

[teentoospoiled]

How & Why Celibacy Works

Ussy Costs Funds, Ick is Free

Level Up Lecture: Xesual Economics 101

Disclaimer: I am an adult cisgender woman targeting a teen audience. I encourage all teens to share and/or include their parents in the conversation of our posts for the sake of transparency on my adult end. Thank you for your engagement.

The Walmarts keep the Targets in business. The Family Dollars / Dollar Generals fill in the gaps where the Walmarts fall flat

Target: Celibate

Walmart: Xesually Active Singles

Family Dollar / DG: Xes Workers or Misc.

I’m not saying if you’re a xesually active single, you’re cheap as a person. I am highlighting how celibacy is the premium product that’s preferred by customers in the market.

There are people who would drive to another Target if their local one is out of something versus heading to the Walmart or Family Dollar within their location.

POV: You’re selling ussy (p or b in front ;)

Everybody sells ussy even if they are poor businessmen. I’m gonna teach you how to market and leverage your coochie correctly.

Men (masculines) marry for the main incentive: in-house ussy.

Pick Up This Gem: This is why you do not move in with them until you’ve at least received an engagement ring.

You are aware of the fact that all masculines want access to your ussy…eventually. Now that you know this, you are going to dangle it over their heads until they give you the things (or lifestyle) you want.

Marriage

Gifts

Business or personal investments, etc.

Choose which ussy you have:

Target Ussy - higher prices, Starbucks, target customer is not on a tight budget seeking steals, strong brand loyalty (driving to another Target versus visiting competitors)

Walmart Ussy - mid range prices, hit or miss with consumers and their affordability thus the wide range of products

Family Dollar / DG -lowest prices, accessible for low income buyers (girls with cheap bfs or baby daddy’s, not SWers) accessible for buyers seeking instant gratification which is affordability.

Answer Now!: Who is your target customer?

MY TARGET CUSTOMER

Disposable income

Regular shopper

Money management, but generous spending

Most likely you listed something that aligns with Target’s target audience, right? It’s ok if you feel like it’s a Target / Walmart (hit or miss remember?).

This is how the Walmarts (xesually active singles) keep the Targets (abstinence and celibates) in business; Target has a competitor to leverage their premium product against.

If you don’t like it, go to our competitors (Walmart / DG). Why?

Because the fact that you can’t afford / don’t prefer Target (no xes until marriage) is the reason why our regular customers shop here, and many of them spend a lot each Target trip.

Customers= Masculines

There are plenty of high spending, high quality, high earning people who shop exclusively at Walmart or rotate stores for the best prices. This is how Walmart balances the market, allowing Target to market as the premium place to shop.

If you chose NO:

Quick Breakdown

This is the best time to remain abstinent or practice celibacy because the market is saturated with free / easy access opportunities for xes. It’s a marketing strategy to reserve your body for exclusive access, especially if you’ve never had xes b4.

Exclusive access has the leverage to insist on getting what they want before entry is allowed.

This leverage is lacked or lessened when you allow xesual access prior to securing your goal(s) at hand-marriage, gifts, investment, etc.

You’re not reserved, which means access to you is not exclusive even if you are rarely used. This is where the leverage of abstinence and celibacy comes in.

Bluntly: the (high quality) masculines who can offer the most fun and funds usually prefer exclusive access. Most people prefer exclusivity to feel special. Dare to tell me I’m wrong

This leverage allows you to make a luxury sale, similar to fashion houses or upscale lounges.

POV: You are a nightclub

You require patrons to book a table and a bottle of champagne before being allowed into the club.

Your “table” and “champagne” is equivalent to requiring a masculine to marry you before gaining entry into your body.

If they don’t like it, point the person to the BYOB or the club that’s more of their style.

Exclusive Access = The premium, preferred product by a higher class/ quality / spending group of consumers.

Now, I hope that made sense.

TIP 2 TEEN SELF: Learn about proper hypergamy early on. Not the SB/ SW stuff even amongst hypergamy content. Take the time out to learn how to date up and build yourself into becoming the woman who thrives in high quality environments instead of shying away or fumbling.

Homework: Listen to this Science of Birds podcast. Take notes on how the “choosy” female bird chooses which male to make babies with

BuyMeACoffee, but I prefer wine ;)

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Stormkpr's writing!

Socials: @stormkpr (Tumblr) | Stormkpr (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today?

A: I’ve been doing this a long time. Got into reading and writing fanfic after one of the X-men movies, and I felt  a huge rush when I posted my first fic – and realized I don’t have to keep pestering my real life friends to read them! As for motivation, that is a strength for me and it just seems to come from within.

Q: Have you had a chance to interact with the SAB cast? Tell us about your experience(s).

A: I was very, very lucky to get to go to Into the Fold in March of this year! I could spend 3,000 words on a recap, but I’ll just try to give the highlights. I loved that on the first day, all the attendees were sitting at round tables in a large hotel room. Then the cast comes in. They rotate each member of the cast to each table. It was so well-organized and I felt like we got a decent amount of time with everybody. I also loved some of the tidbits we got later on in the conference, such as Jack telling us about the deleted Wesper scene and how there was more to it. Wylan had made tea, and Jesper commented that it’s great to have a chemist make your tea. And I love that Jack said how good of a scene partner Kit was, and the way he made him comfortable during the scene where Jack is actually driving a real carriage.

Q: Tell us about something in your fics that you’re proud of and wish would get more notice.

A: I love that many of my fics have plots. Nothing wrong with a fic that is more about ‘all the feels’ and I have written my share of fics that contain mostly smut. But I love creating storylines and thinking of a few twists.

❀

Part Two: Selected Works

How to Train Your Gladiator

Explicit | 72.8K | Wesper, Kanej, Helnik Historical Fiction (Ancient Rome), Romance

This is my highest kudo-ed Crows fic so I am starting with this one. We have a world of gladiators and arena battles, and each Crow must find a way to survive and to love. I had a blast thinking up storylines and how each ship would ultimately get together, stay together, and triumph.

A Feral Yearning

Teen | 3.4K | Wesper Oneshot, Modern AU, Vampire AU

From my highest to my lowest kudo-ed Wesper fic. It didn’t get much traction but I loved wrapping up this vampire AU in a one-shot. I liked that it kind of kept you guessing, and writing Vampire Jesper was a blast!

I Am He That Aches With Love

Explicit | 15K | Wesper Canon compliant, Revealing Your Truth, Light Smut

Things are getting serious between Wylan and Jesper. They’ve just taken part in Kaz’s successful revenge scheme against Pekka Rollins and are ready to relax – perhaps going together to Poppy’s show. Or perhaps something more intimate, just the two of them. But before anything more intimate can happen, Wylan has something important that he has to tell Jesper – and he’s scared to do so.

❀

Part Three: Author's Recs

To Live In Color by @sixofcrowdaydreams

Explicit | 39K+ (WIP) | Wesper Cinderella AU, Child Abuse, Wylan-centric, Angst w/ Happy Ending

Perfect mix of plot and writing and all the Wesper feels! I could go on and on. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

What's truth but what we with say it is? by @hotpinkmurex

Explicit | 93.8K | Wesper Modern AU, Romance, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort

The Pretty Woman Wesper AU you’ve always needed

Hot and Heavy by @magicandpizza

Explicit | 3,400 (Complete) | Wesper PWP, Shameless Smut, Sassy Wylan, Bottom!Wylan, Top!Jesper

Really, really good smut. It's hot, Jesper is a tease and Wylan is horny. That's it, that's the plot. (And what more do we need?)

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

[amweaver]

Okay, this has been bothering me since my first playthrough of Stardew Valley. Lewis is a complete shitheel of a human being, which the player finds out over time spent exploring, fixing the community center, talking to the citizens, and doing side quests.

He embezzled tax money to make a solid gold statue of himself instead of fixing up the community center. He yells at Sam for daring to skateboard on the paved sidewalk. He doesn't like fish, so he always gives Willy the lowest score during the Fair. He is actively stringing along Marnie into having a secret affair instead of a relationship out in the open because he fears the town's reaction. Any time you put his dirty laundry on display (sometimes literally), he pays you off and tells you to mind your business. When the Luau is underway, he is snappish to you and the rest of the town, but is polite to the Governor, and if the soup isn't good enough, he will chastise the townsfolk, implying blame everywhere but to himself. He is a corrupt politician, point blank.

One of his dialog options is the following when you chat with him: "I've been Mayor of Pelican Town for over twenty years! No one ever runs against me when it's time for an election. I like to think that it means I'm doing my job well. I like being Mayor.”

There is no Election Day event in Stardew Valley.

I understand that this game has to have a certain amount of cozy small-town charm where little things change, but overall things stay the same. However, it would be great to have an Election Day in the vanilla version of the game so that we can have more development in that area, if for no other reason than to vote for somebody other than Lewis as a write-in, if it turns out that nobody runs against him...or to nominate myself once I have full hearts of everybody in town.

[lexygabe]

queen bee aka elmatagirl critical post

i know this appeal will be useless as hell but i felt an urge to do it so i will try to explain to you how stupid "how me being straight woman has anything to do with my [gay] ships" argument is. and maybe not stupid per se but definitely harmful.

and before we start i am fully aware of the whole defense line elmatagirl will use to justify herself, so even if there are some lgbtq people that followed you and support you and don't perceive what you do as problematic it doesn't mean that my opinions and opinions of most of the supablr are less important. so pls don't use "but my lgbtq followers like what i do and they are not touched by what i say" argument bcs it's not an argument in this case. let's use example of your beloved feminism which isn't a thing we are talking about but you like to bring this up whenever somebody calls you out on what you've done wrong. if there are women who are saying that something is very misogynistic and man replies with: "but i have multiple female friends and they are not offended by that" it doesn't change the fact that by some people it will be seen as misogynistic. it's about finding the golden middle.

the next argument elmatagirl will probably use is that "she has depression and she has severe depression" and i'm sorry but for me it doesn't change anything. for me even if she had multiple other disorders it wouldn't stop me from telling her: miss, you speak bullshit. and maybe now i will be perceived as heartless but idc everybody who lives more than one year in internet know that NOBODY cares what you are suffer from. and i mean nobody. if somebody will like to criticize you (in more radical spacies pour out hate on you) they will do it and nobody cares if you are at your lowest or not and i also don't care. i just think that if somebody is making 0 sense about particular topic they are talking about i have this power as a rando from internet to tell this person they are wrong.

and the last argument that isn't argument but i know elmatagirl will want to use it is anything feminism related. we are not talking about this. we are not talking about what you witnessed as a feminist. bcs it's not conversation we are having now. for me you could even be the one of them the first suffragists but if you were doing something that is considered as slightly homophobic i wouldn't care.

so since we have everything explained i can back to what i wanted to say.

"how me being straight woman has anything to do with my gay ships" i think you all are familiar with phrases: "male gaze" and "female gaze" and it has very good reflection in our case but instead of "male/female" we have "straight gaze" and "gay gaze".

for me and for the other people i know "straight gaze for straight women" are in most cases mlm ships with two attractive men included. and where is the problem? the problem is right there, because said ship was supposed to be for this two male characters (let's not start conversation if this two characters have good relationship/toxic relationship/or fall under proshipping line, bcs that's what i'm gonna talk about in next paragraphs of my essay) AND FOR TARGET GROUPS but instead of being made for target group (let's say lgbtq community by default and if we want to be even more specific so it is for other mlm people) it become pair to make straight women comfortable. and this is the problem because whole the gay couples finally represented in media wasn't made for straight women to feel comfortable in their little cozy beds to think: "oh gay people are not so different than us/oh why gay people are always the most attractive ones", i would even say if you are straight and cis and you are obsessed with gay ships and projecting everything what you feel on these characters (yeah it also applies to making hundreds of fanarts when you are strangely always in the middle, between this two characters), when one of them you headcanon as homosexual (in elmatagirl case this is el matador), then you are fetishizing it.

and what is fetishization? fetishization is excessive fascination/sexual fantasies about things that aren't sexual by definition for example: identity, race, religion or body parts that aren't private. and we are focusing on the first instance.

oh my gosh we have a lot of to talk about here. firstly, i would like to focus on... weird fanarts of elmatagirl and i'm not talking about nsfw ones bcs yeah they are nsfw and even if i don't like them i'm not gonna talking about them here.

there was a famous redrawing of - i don't remember now if this was comic panel or scene from the show but it doesn't matter - el matador.... i don't even know how to put this in words, el matador tied in... el marador tied in this position......

(gabe and their digital painting skills)

and what can i say.... if she just idk make joke about it, then it's okay i probably also made comment about this kind of scene BUT ALSO MOVE ON AS SOON AS THIS JOKE MET WITH LAUGHTER FROM MY AUDIENCE and not started making whole ass fanart with sexual subtext of my favourite gay boys because from context of the show this scene wasn't made to be sexual, it was meant to be funny/visual gag etc.

"why gay men are always the most attractive men?"

it may sound innocent and yeah it is, because i also can say that some gay man is in my eyes attractive and deal with the fact that he doesn't look at me as his possible partner bcs i'm non binary who doesn't identify with - let's call it - "male gender role". but again i move on from this interaction and not run whole page with my two little gay boiiis suggestive content bcs it's suspicious

and again my fellow gay men of supablr can correct me because i'm not mlm, but i think that meeting with this kind of excitement from straight women would be very weird. i can't make example of my situation bcs im bisexual but if i was ever in established relationship with a woman and some dude would say to me that women in lesbian relationships are the hottest ones and then i would discover that he runs whole social media profile with only wlw ships in which he also includes himself i would give him a fucking stroke like man, you are super weird. i don't see you as an ally, i see you as a weirdo.

proshipping/toxic mlm

now we will be walkin on a thin ice so if someone doesn't feel comfortable with this kind of content i want you to scroll till next point written in bold font

proshipping is when a person supports shipping in general. no matter if two or more characters have huge age gap, are related to each other(it also applies to adoptive families), have bully/victim | abuser/victim type of relationship or one of them or more are minors in relationship with an adult(s)

and i want to talk about dingarra here. dingarra is ship between skarra and dingaan and like i said in one of my prev posts this is clearly an abuser&a victim relationship and i'm sorry no matter how many headcanons you made about it it's still abusive relationship. and if somebody make an argument that idk they have each others phone numbers or skarra handed dingaan a fucking toilet paper in episode 293719191 - i'm gonna get violent. i'm not joking i'm gonna get violent.

and if it's wrong to ship toxic ships? surprisingly no, BUT ONLY if you are aware of the fact that they are toxic. like people for a reason ship hannigram and i don't know batman and joker because they like their fucked up dynamic, are into character study or just think that in weird VERY VERY WEIRD way they match each others energy.... BUT NOBODY ROMANTICIZE THIS. ofc there are some people that think these type of relationships are the height of romanticism but still there is common belief that this ship is toxic for fuck's sake

............................

and shador

i don't know where el matador in rookie season is looking like 18 or 19 year old. i seriously can't see that but ofc i am the delusional one

and at the end of the day

being over excited because two fictional males is super duper weird

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 34

(Final chapter!! Huge thank you to everybody who has read/enjoyed this fic. There will be an epilogue to follow...)

Being the lady of the court turned out to be just as tedious as Nesta thought it would be. She was glad the title of high lady would not be thrust upon her – but was there any difference between the two? It was nice to a degree; people were always glad to make her acquaintance but it went on and on and on. Servants and courtiers trailed her every move; they copied her fashion so nearly all of the females now wore their hair in coronets or were seeking ways to lighten it to her shade of burnished gold; she could not walk down the corridor without a gaggle whispering behind her. Eris found it all very funny.  He had taken to calling her mother goose.

When her darling husband offered her the chance to flit away for a few hours in secret, Nesta nearly snapped his hand off in anticipation. No servants, no guards, just smokehounds.

They were returned to the lake that she had once knocked him into. Her lips curled at the memory.

They lay out a thick, red tartan blanket onto a patch of grass. Being near the lake still invoked some fear in Nesta, but a comforting hand from Eris smoothed away her fears. The dogs tore off, one after the other, chasing dragonflies or leaping into the water with no care at all. For a time, Nesta watched them. She held her breath, anticipating one of their smokehounds being pulled to the lakebed by a kelpie. When nothing bad happened, she loosed the breath she’d been holding.

It felt like weeks since she had seen Eris properly – but, in reality, it had only been a week. One week since Beron had died. In that week, Eris had wasted no time in scourging his filth from every corner of the Autumn Court. It was no longer a court of decay and rot, but one of new beginnings and fresh chances. Nearly all of the secret pockets that he had cultivated for many years were unturned so that his followers could be in the open, ushering in change. Lucien had not agreed to re-join the court, but had agreed to a weekly meal with his family, much to his mother’s delight.

They feasted on rolls that were still warm with thick wedges of butter and cheese on top. To ensure she didn’t want to kiss him, Eris gorged himself on pickled onions too.

A brilliant blue sky remained above their head as Nesta forced herself to eat another sticky bun rather than waste it.

‘Do you trust me?’

The question caught Nesta off guard. She paused mid-bite, frowning slightly. Yes, she trusted him. Eris had never given a reason to be doubted so she told him as much.

His hand wound through her hair – the only person she’d allow to do such a thing. ‘There may be a time soon where I will do things where I need you to trust me without question. Know that everything I do is for you.’

‘Follow you blindly?’

She moved onto her knees on the blanket, feeling the slight divots in the earth beneath. His jaw was rigid, mouth a flat line. Although Nesta recognised the cunning in those amber eyes, she still waited for the teasing grin or mischief to brighten his features. When it didn’t come, she pressed, ‘What do you mean?’

‘For innocence’s sake, I won’t tell you. I only ask for your trust.’

It unsettled her, but that reasonable part of her reassured her that Eris was responsible.

‘Thank you for having faith in me.’

‘I always do.’

If only the day could be eternal. He was a high lord and she his wife, but amongst the swaying trees beside the lake, they were just two who were madly in love. She had thought of his words from a few nights earlier – the declaration that their love mattered more because they had chosen each other – and it still had heat blooming in her chest. And it did matter more. Eris had come to her at one of her lowest points and been the steady hand that reached for her, guiding her, comforting her. Love had been an afterthought. Right from the beginning, he had been driven only by a need to see happiness radiate from her once more. Had she ever been happy like this? Every day in Eris’ presence as his wife felt like she was shedding another layer, removing all of the defences that she had built for years and years. Only he knew the real her hidden beneath it – only he deserved to know her. Only he had seen somebody else underneath. Sometimes she felt like a princess trapped in a tower; any prince who had showed interest found the tower too high, too arduous to climb, not worth the effort to try and reach her. Not her Eris.

Her husband had a hand underneath his auburn head, with eyes closed as the sun kissed his pale skin. Nesta had met many types of fae now; some blue with shimmering skin, others with wings or tails. Eris still struck her as the most faerie of all. He was ethereal in a way; those sharp features would be so at odds compared to human men, his keen amber eyes were unlike any she had ever seen before, and the calculation, the ability to always be ahead of anybody else even when it wasn’t his game, was so purely fae.

‘I am very proud of you,’ she murmured, stroking against the smooth skin of his forehead.

He peeped open one eye then shielded his face from the sun shining behind her. ‘What have I done?’

‘Everything. You have done everything. And you do it all before anybody else can even notice. You have the quickest mind of anybody I know and a heart that should never have been allowed to be hidden.’

For centuries, Eris had waded through the taunts as the cruel heir to the Autumn Court throne, relished in it even. But Eris did love, and he loved deeply. He had never been allowed to chance to show it.

Eris tugged her down beside him so they could doze together beside their abandoned picnic.

She extended a hand to keep the hounds from trying to lick her as she cosied up beside Eris. ‘The council want you to have an heir.’

‘I don’t care what they want. My father wanted me to have an heir too. If that’s not a good sign to do the opposite then I do not know what is.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘But you do need an heir.’

Warily, he turned to look at her. He exhaled a long breath. ‘Are you offering your services or do you have something to tell me?’

The hesitation in his expression made Nesta wish she had never broached the subject, but with that intense gaze upon her skin, she had to answer. ‘I want children. Not yet. But I do.’ She swallowed again because her throat was suddenly dry and painful. ‘You do not want children?’

Resting on his elbows, Eris squinted out towards the forest. His eyes tracked a leaf as it broke free from its branch and caught on a light wind. ‘And run the risk I become like him?’

Though he tried to mask it, Nesta saw the raw wound beneath. It was a fear she shared, not for him, but for herself. A cold mother who saw her daughter as a tool to climb the social ranks with. A grandmother who beat her for not meeting their strict standards of perfection.

‘You can be the one to be different. You already are different.’

‘He was once. I have memories of him taking me hunting, teaching me to ride, laughing and lifting me into the air when he caught me sitting on his throne.’ Eris shook his head. ‘It was long ago. I wonder sometimes if they were real – if I made them up because I wanted a father’s love, not his fists.’

She wound her fingers into his. ‘I won’t ever pressure you. If it’s not something you want then-’

‘I do. It’s a fear that will always be there, but I would love to have children with you. Not yet – I plan to enjoy my wife for at least three hundred years because I don’t think I could possibly share you.’ Eris swooped upon her, pressing sloppy kisses on her neck. ‘The idea of you loving someone more than me? Abhorrent.’

‘Can you imagine a smaller version of you? I don’t think I’d be able to cope with two of you. I’d never get a chance to speak.’

It made him chuckle. ‘Imagine my beauty and your brains. Prythian wouldn’t stand a chance with that child.’

He was ridiculous and she loved him for it. Eris rummaged through their basket, eyes brightening with joy at the sight of more smoked cheese hidden at the bottom. He ate it from the block like a mouse.

As a child, with her head filled with dreams, Nesta always imagined herself with two daughters. Two miniature versions of her with the same grey eyes and golden hair. They’d sit and sew and she’d send them off to kind men when they were older. Now in her imaginings, it was a son walking beside her with his own smokehound. A boy with his father’s auburn hair and the same quick talking to get out of trouble. A little boy to share her stories with and spend time in the forest with.

The future wasn’t scary anymore. It was something to look forward to.

‘How private is this place?’

‘Very. Why do you ask?’

Nesta gave a slight smirk. ‘Would you like to undress your wife, high lord?’

It was a summons that Eris could not ignore. He slipped her dress from her shoulder, kissing the bare skin that was exposed then the other so her dress fell around her waist.

‘You next.’

He wasted no time in pulling off his umber, silk waistcoat and unbuttoning the shirt beneath. His eyes trailed from hers down her body. ‘Your turn.’

At the first moments of Nesta removing her shoes, Eris could not resist jumping in. The straps were loosened, the shoes slipped off, then her stockings.

‘Everything?’ His amber eyes canvassed the ivory slip covering her modesty.

Nesta sprawled out on the blanket, tucking her hands beneath her head. ‘I am yours to command, high lord.’

In a practised movement, he yanked his leather belt from his trousers then removed them too. He loved to be naked. Even in the woods.

As the air blew over her bare skin, Nesta gave a little shiver. ‘Cover me.’

His body was always so deliciously warm, but Eris flipped them, so she lay, as bare as the day she was born, on top of him.

‘Your high lord has been working far too hard. You can be on top.’

‘What an honour to bestow on me, oh benevolent one.’

She spread her thighs and guided him inside of her. The contented feeling of being full had Nesta letting out a soft moan. Eris gazed up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, perfectly happy to lay back and let her ride. Nesta raised her hips up and down, feeling his length sliding in and out. The glide was made easy by her arousal. Her hands pressed against his smooth chest, giving her an anchor to brace her weight against. The warmth of his body around her thighs coupled with the whispering wind stroking her back gave into new sensations.  

Eris was lost to her body. His eyes remained fixed on her breasts as they bounced then a warm hand had to be filled by one. He never could resist, despite the shows he made of keeping his attention on her face.

His hips began rising up from the blanket to fill her with all of him. From their hours spent cavorting in the forest, Nesta had shed any hesitations long ago. Her moans came unrestrained, even when Eris pulled her down and clutched onto her. She could do nothing but press her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, until all the sense was gone and there was only him.

‘Eris?’

 At the sound of a male’s voice calling through the woods, Nesta flew from her husband as if she had been shocked by a bolt of lightning.

‘Very private?’ She hissed.

With heat burning in her cheeks, Nesta scrambled to turn her clothes the right way round and pull them on hurriedly.

The smokehounds had followed the source of the voice. Their barks shifted to excited whining and yipping.

Eris groaned, pulling on his trousers. ‘Remind me why I removed Lucien’s exile.’

‘It’s Lucien? How does he know about this place?’ Nesta turned for Eris to button the back of her dress up.

‘Who do you think taught him to catch a fish with his bare hands?’

The male jogged towards them, face pale. He made no comment on what he had interrupted in the woods. ‘Feyre. The baby.’

***

The secret city unfurled before them. It wasn’t the sculpted mountains of Illyria or the hard, black stone of the Hewn City. The city was flanked by a winding river that sparkled under the spring sunshine with deepest sapphire. Beyond, lay the sea. There were mountains here, but they were flat-topped and red stone, so unlike the behemoths of Illyria. He filtered through information Nesta had told him and located the home she was imprisoned in, carved into the dizzying height of the mountain. An expanse of buildings built from marble or sandstone covered the city. Eris spied green copper roofs and white chimneys. And not enough trees. It made him shudder. A secret, special city it might have been, but he felt woefully uncomfortable in it.

Lucien had already set off crossing a bridge towards a large estate near the river. Nesta held onto the crook of Eris’ elbow to lead him in pursuit. He tried to examine every inch of the city, to commit it all to memory to record later.

A wraith opened the door before they reached it. She blinked in apparent shyness then slunk away.

‘Fetch your healer,’ came a voice from above.

Mor raced down the stairs then leaped the last couple.

Eris gripped Nesta’s hand tightly. Imploring her to trust him. ‘Where is Cassian?’

‘Eris.’

‘Cassian,’ he repeated to his once-betrothed, without a single care in the world.

The brute lumbered down the stairs at the summons. His hazel eyes washed over Nesta in a familiarity that he had not earned. Eris took another step forward, shielding Nesta slightly.

‘Fetch the healer,’ snapped Mor once more.

Eris held up a finger. ‘No. I don’t think I will bring Orla here.’

He gave a gloating grin though he enjoyed none of this. The trust that Nesta put in him was hanging by a thread and he knew he could not keep pushing it with her sister’s life on the line. Trust me, he wished he could say to her. Trust that I will make this right.

‘I gain nothing from this.’

Beside him, Nesta kept her jaw clenched together. The hand holding his was growing increasingly tighter too, almost painful which he was sure was deliberate.

‘Let’s strike a deal. I bring my wonderful healer. The high lady is saved. The high lord is saved. The heir to the Night Court is saved. And then I want nothing more to do with this court.’

‘With pleasure,’ snarled Mor.

Eris tutted. ‘You didn’t let me finish, Morrigan. In return, Cassian must sever the bond with my wife.’

***

The absolute bastard.

He’d hold Feyre’s life ransom for this. He hated the male. Hated that either way, Cassian lost. Choose Feyre’s life and he’d lost his mate. Choose Nesta and he’d still lose her for picking her over her sister’s life, then lose Feyre and Rhys too. There really was only one option, but it would ruin him.

‘Tick tock, Cassian,’ said Eris, a slow smile spreading across his sharp face, knowing the battle that raged inside of his head.  

Cassian turned to Nesta, begged her to at least look at him rather than looking through them. She did not even notice his attention. Eris did. His spine stiffened then he said, ‘Sever the bond or we go home. Your high lady will die.’

Mor turned her attention on Nesta. ‘She is your fucking sister, you heartless bitch.’

‘Stop,’ Cassian said, voice hard and firm before Eris could inevitably defend his wife. Indeed, the male’s lip was pulled back, ready to spit vitriol towards Mor.

Cassian knew he should have said stop long ago. Should never have let Mor speak badly of Nesta to him, never have entertained her need to put a buffer between herself and Azriel by using him. Every time that he let Mor chip away at Nesta, it put distance between him and his mate. She was too far to reach now. The comfort that she had needed had been found in a different male’s arms. The gentle care he should have given her was offered by a different male; one who appreciated every part of her.  

Eris had won long ago. The bastard changed the rules at every turn, did things that only he had the slipperiness to do. He had out-manoeuvred Cassian at every turn.

Rhys would never ask him to break a bond, would never put that on him. But his high lord was going to die. His high lady was dying now. How could Cassian live with himself if he let them die for the sake of a bond that Nesta didn’t even want?

His world felt as if it was collapsing in on itself. He should never have taken her on the hike. Should have gone to her straight after the war and been the male she needed.

‘I’ll sever the bond.’

‘Took a little time for your mind to calculate that,’ said Eris with another false smile. ‘Normal with so many blows to the head. I want it done officially. Forgive me for not trusting an Illyrian’s word. Make a deal with me; a magical vow that you cannot circumvent.’

Mor seethed beside them and even Lucien appeared uncomfortable by this arrangement. Cassian still looked to Nesta, imploring her to look at him, just once. The female remained with her grey eyes down at the floor even when Eris extended a hand to Cassian to confirm their deal. Ink sizzled against his skin – the golden burn of autumn wrapped around his wrist in four coils of ivy.

‘Darling, will you fetch Orla. I’ll remain here.’

Nesta’s hand slipped out of Eris’ then she was gone, winnowed away. He had not known she even possessed the ability to do it. They’d been more focused on thrusting a blade into her hand than to recognise the weapons already in her arsenal.

‘You are a fucking bastard, Eris. You always have been. Always will be.’ Mor’s face was white with fury.

‘Do you know why I left you in those woods?’

Her face blanched then. Cassian took a step closer to her. ‘We’re not talking about-’

‘You know,’ he said softly, almost tenderly. ‘You’ve always known why. You would have fallen to rot and ruin in my court. The kindest thing I could do was push you away. You won’t ever admit that I could be kind to you.’

A tear dropped down her cheek. ‘You call leaving me bleeding in the woods kindness?’

‘What did you want, Morrigan? For me to gallantly carry you to the Forest House and present you to my father? You know that Beron has always been worse than Kier. You know what he would have done to you.’ The intensity of his stare was alarming. Cassian had never seen the male so white-hot with his anger. It was quiet but not powerless. The breath before the storm. For five hundred years, he had weathered being the cruel betrothed who had left Mor bleeding in his forest. ‘If you want me to be the villain, that’s who I will be. I would have been kind to you, make no mistake, but I did what was best for you, even if you cannot accept that. I would never have hurt you, but do not think for one second that I will not bring down the sky on anybody who dares to make my wife unhappy – and that includes you. You will not speak badly of her again.’

All of them were in a stark silence when Nesta finally winnowed back to them with the healer. A heavy bag was in her hand, her hair drawn into a long braid. Wasting no time, or to break the stalemate, Lucien gave a nod then led the way up the stairs.

‘How long has she been bleeding?’

‘Long enough,’ came Mor’s sharp reply.

In a plush bedroom, the high lady lay on the bed, face as pale as the grave. Sweat mottled her brow. Rhys had his head in his hands beside her, bereft with worry and Elain gripped Feyre’s frail hand. Both Amren and Azriel stood against a wall, faces equally grave.

Madja hovered over her, sending waves of magic to manage the pain. ‘She’s very weak.’

‘Why didn’t you do something sooner?’ The Autumn healer spat. ‘Before it got this far.’

‘A babe is treasured.’

‘Not above its mother. Move.’

The healer’s hands went to Feyre’s stomach, feeling the position of the babe. Her brow pulled downwards and Cassian felt his stomach tighten in horror.

‘I need to cut her and it needs to be now.’

There was a battle to be heard amongst the voices. It suddenly seemed like a terrifying idea to have a healer from the Autumn Court near Feyre. Rhys made that fact known. As did Mor and Amren, who called her a butcher. Eris retaliated.  Lucien called for peace. Then Nesta wrapped the room in her unholy silver fire and demanded that anybody who did not want to be incinerated should leave at once to give Orla peace.

All of them waited in the hallway outside, sick to their stomachs – bar one. Eris kept his eyes fixed upon the door as if he could see through it, face calm. Azriel paced. Other than that, they were silent. Only the Archerons, Rhys, and the healers remained in the bedroom.

The enduring silence went on and on, echoing through the halls of the river estate.

Then, the smallest cry rang out.

Cassian felt his heart tighten at the sound. The siphons on his leathers pulsed in answer to it.

Their boy was born.

Only time would tell about Feyre.

Mor’s hand gripped his in the quiet hallway. The cry only came once – a tiny, delicate thing.

‘If she’s died because you delayed-’

Eris waved a hand through the air. ‘She was going to die without Orla’s help regardless. Tell Rhysand not to fuck his wife when she has wings.’ His eyes flitted to Cassian. Disgust flashed on his face at the sight of his wings. ‘Thank goodness Nesta will never be in this situation.’

‘She is his mate,’ came Amren’s voice.

Eris snorted. ‘Not for much longer.’

***

It had been the most terrifying thing that Nesta had ever witnessed. A cold fear had gripped her throughout. At one point, Elain had even snatched Rhysand’s hand while Madja pressed a hand over her mouth.

Nothing seemed to scare Orla though. That steadfastness prevailed. Always calm, always steady.  She worked with precision, issuing clear orders to Nesta to follow. Her entire mind shut down and just listened to the healer’s commands. Applied pressure where she was told to. Held gauze where Orla pointed to.

When the babe was born, Madja took him, which left Orla to guide Feyre through the land of the living. Her hands never tired as she stitched the skin together. She pressed Nesta constantly to inform her on Feyre’s breathing – how shallow, how quick – or to count her pulse.

Then it was done.

Feyre slept in an enchanted sleep, but Orla was happy that she was stable. The healer’s fire leapt up in the hearth, flooding the room with a warmth that felt unnecessary for such a beautiful spring day, but she insisted that Feyre must be kept warm.

The babe was in Elain’s arms now, slumbering already.

‘A difficult pregnancy makes for an easy baby,’ said Orla, a smile quirking on her lips.

Nesta wasn’t sure if Rhysand had even looked at the child. All of his attention had been on his mate. The horror still hadn’t quite left his expression. One of her hands remained clasped between hers as she slept.

‘Congratulations,’ said Nesta. ‘You have a son, high lord.’

Madja cleared her throat. ‘You have a daughter, actually.’

A crop of dark hair was just visible beneath the blanket the babe had been swaddled in as well as two soft peaks from her wings. A girl. That was unexpected.

Surprise flooded his expression as he took his daughter into his arms. He gently tilted her towards Feyre, as if she might suddenly wake.

‘I hear Orla is an excellent name,’ said Nesta, giving the female a true smile.

In the quiet surrounding them, the two healers cleaned up. Nesta peered over Rhys’ shoulder to inspect her niece. A new born was always quite strange. Her nose was a little squashed still and her face was wrinkled in slumber, but she was a tiny thing, born a few months too soon. Nesta stroked against the tiny fingernails, marvelling over something so little.

‘Do you want to hold her?’

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met Rhysand’s strange coloured ones. Carefully, she took the precious bundle into her arms as she sat beside him at Feyre’s bedside. The room fell into a different sort of quiet, a relaxed hush.

After a time, Rhysand said, ‘Thank you.’

Nesta shrugged. ‘It was all Orla.’

But his hand settled on hers, covering it where she held his child. ‘Thank you.’

Eventually, she gave the babe back to her father although she could have held onto her forever. Her lips had parted as she slept and Nesta found it increasingly different to tear her gaze away.

‘Shall I let them know that we’re all okay?’ Elain wrung her hands together.

One by one they filed into the room in reverent silence, even Eris. He didn’t go to Nesta; instead, the male went straight to Orla and brought her into a bone-crunching embrace. ‘You magnificent thing.’

‘She really was,’ emphasised Rhys. The babe was still cradled to his chest and he seemed unwilling to let her go to anybody else again.

‘I’d feel better if I could stay the night for observations.’

With the hope still burning in his eyes, Nesta thought Rhysand might offer to build Orla a house there and then to house her in and keep her close.

‘I’m not comfortable with that,’ interjected Eris. ‘Unless she has a guard from my court. Orla is too precious to leave in this city.’

Opposite her, Nesta saw Azriel recoil because he knew exactly who that guard would be though he was too good to say anything when Eris raised the topic of bringing Niamh into Velaris. Mother help them all with her on the loose.

Both Nesta and Orla had blood on their clothes. She wanted to scrub her sister’s blood off of her person. The blood of Hybern’s king hadn’t even registered with her when it had showered her body, but because these stains belonged to her younger sister, Nesta wanted to be away – as much as she wanted to stay at her bedside. Sensing her discomfort, the way she plucked at her gown and pulled it away from her body, Eris spoke.

‘Orla will return soon with her guard,’ explained Eris. ‘We must return to our court. You never know who might try and sit on my throne while I’m gone. Congratulations, Rhysand.’

‘We’ll finish our deal another time,’ said Nesta, catching Cassian’s eyes. The pain lancing down the bond from his end almost brought her to her knees. He gave a muted nod in response.

Elain looked between them. ‘What deal?’  

Nobody gave her an answer, not even Mor. Nesta was sure it would be the topic of discussion once they departed.

Orla swept a hand across Feyre’s forehead. ‘She’ll be asleep for some time. Bed rest for at least two weeks. And I mean that. The babe must be placed into her arms, taken from them. No movement. No lifting. No twisting. Rest. I’ve stitched her as if she was mortal. Her body will heal quicker than a mortal’s would, but rest is essential.’ She gave a stern look to Rhysand; rather than speaking to one of the most powerful high lords in history, it almost looked as if a mother was telling off her naughty child. ‘And I suppose I do not need to warn you never to conceive in an Illyrian form again?’

‘Certainly not,’ he replied.

***

A week blew by then a second. Orla had spent two nights in Velaris as well as frequent visits to ensure both mother and child were well. They were, thankfully. Although the girl was small, she was strong. Feyre had woken and was sorely disappointed to not be able to leave the bed. Niamh had it worse. She lamented to Eris that they had been on house arrest so she could not truly explore the city for him.

‘I went to the bathroom and Azriel demanded I keep the door open an inch because he didn’t trust me.’

‘In case you climbed out of the window,’ he offered.

Niamh grunted. ‘Well, I would have – but he didn’t know that.’

Tea dribbled from the spout as Nesta poured tea for them. ‘Did you really urinate with Azriel waiting by the door? I think I wouldn’t be able to.’

Niamh flashed a grin. ‘For his cheek, I left the door wide open so he had no choice but to watch.’

‘Why must you torment that kind male?’ Orla shook her head in dismay then sliced up the cake she’d made that day for them.

‘Speaking of kind males, how many more gifts have arrived?’

A blush spread across Orla’s freckled cheeks and Lucien rolled his eyes. ‘I had to bring another bouquet of flowers and a locket with rubies encrusted in it with me.’

There had been a black gelding, new supplies for healing and baking, a lot of expensive jewellery, perfume, and offers of a new house from the High Lord of the Night Court. It seemed that Rhysand couldn’t quite work out the equivalent value in gifts for his, his mate’s and his daughter’s life.

Nesta frowned. ‘He better not be trying to poach you from us.’

‘Let’s do a swap,’ suggested Niamh. ‘They get Orla, we get Lucien permanently.’

Eris shook his head. ‘Little Lucien is slowly being coaxed back by his mama.’ At this, Lucien groaned. ‘And Orla is too precious. I will never ever let her leave.’

‘I’m contemplating it. When was the last time you bought me a horse, Eris?’

He threw out his hands. ‘I’ll buy you one of Helion’s pegasi if that’s what you desire.’

‘You can’t go. We’ll need you to deliver our baby.’

At Nesta’s words, a ripple of excitement went around the healer’s kitchen. Eris couldn’t breathe.

‘You’re pregnant?’ Orla got to her feet, ready to pull Nesta into an embrace.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ replied Eris, heart still not beating properly.

Poor Nesta had gone scarlet. ‘No, I meant in the future. In the future, we will need you, Orla. Not any time soon.’

She wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing out a breath.

‘In three hundred years,’ added Eris.

Niamh let out a long cackle. ‘Will it take you that long to figure out what to do with that thing in your pants, Eris?’

‘I think you all forget that I am your high lord and I can quite easily have you executed for mocking me.’

The wild female covered her mouth then whispered loudly, ‘He doesn’t know what to do with it.’

He eyed her closely. ‘I might trade you for Lucien to be rid of you.’

‘Don’t do that to Azriel,’ said Nesta, smirking.

Considering where they were headed that day, Nesta was doing remarkably well. The ink on Eris’ wrist itched more each day that it wasn’t fulfilled and Cassian likely felt the same. It had been arranged by Lucien though he had been good enough not spill any of the nasty things that had likely been said of them. They were permitted to return to Velaris for it, perhaps to protect the Illyrian so he could grieve the bond there rather than Illyria or the Hewn City. It had to be done by somebody who knew spell-work, so Helion would be the one to do it. Eris didn’t trust him, but he just wanted rid of the bond so wasn’t about to be picky. As long as it got done.

When the time came, they readied themselves in the Forest House. Ashur and some of his trusted males would be ready to guard the Forest House in case Cassian reacted badly to the separation. After a battle, Eris had relented to the whims of females and his mother would also come to offer support to Nesta. As much as they loved each other, sometimes a female needed another female. Sometimes they just needed a mother to comfort them. He was glad his could be both to Nesta. They had become close, spending time together when he was busy – or even when he wasn’t. Sometimes they sought each other out without him. He knew Nesta needed more friends in this court, but the two she wanted would not be available for this. Nesta could not rely on Emerie and Gwyn in their court because it was too close to Cassian whilst the wound was recent.   

‘Nervous?’

‘Yes. And excited. Relieved. Worried. All of it. All at once.’

‘You’re sure?’

Nesta heaved out a sigh as she adjusted her gown in the mirror. ‘Absolutely.’

They winnowed again to the vast river estate. It was oddly formal as they were accepted by one of the wraiths into a drawing room then tea was offered. Lucien tried hard to give off a casual demeanour, but he kept close to their mother’s side.

It wasn’t Beron that Eris got his cleverness from. Since her husband’s death, his mother’s confidence had grown once more. It had been her who had suggested to Nesta that she could accompany them. As her russet eyes blinked around the room, Eris had to wonder if she was on the lookout for a different Archeron sister. Poor Lucien had endured many questions about his elusive mate. To all of them, he had skirted the truth, even when she had asked when Elain would be brought home for dinner.

‘Hurrah, I am allowed out of bed.’

A pale Feyre Archeron stepped into the room. There were shadows beneath her eyes, but she managed a smile. Nesta went to her and gave her a gentle embrace that surprised both of them.

‘Where is Elin?’

Elin. Named after the high lord’s deceased sister.

‘She has produced something that smells like it came from hell and it’s all over her back so Rhys is dealing with that. It’s too strenuous for me.’ She tapped her abdomen lightly then winked.

They sat in a strange silence. Nobody seemed able to think of any topics of conversation. Thankfully, voices filtered in as they approached.

Helion entered first. His dazzling white clothes had Eris wanting to shield his eyes. Coupled with it, were a golden crown and a band around his muscled upper arm. ‘Nesta Archeron, more beautiful every time...’

The high lord’s voice trailed away as his gaze snagged on a different female.

‘Eliška.’

‘Helion,’ came the curt reply. ‘You were saying how beautiful my daughter is.’

‘Yes.’

But the high lord could not move. Could not speak. He was rooted to the spot, staring at Eris’ mother – much to his annoyance. Maybe it was not Elain Archeron she had planned to meet at all. In that moment, Helion did not look like a swaggering high lord who ploughed his way through countless courts with his charm and appearance. To Eris, he looked like a lovestruck puppy who couldn’t pick his jaw off the floor.

Eris had taken it as a given that Helion would be besotted with Nesta, but his mother too? He and Lucien exchanged a grimace.

The others had stopped behind Helion, wondering what had attracted his attention. Elain shuffled forwards, her pink gown sweeping around the floor.

Lucien swallowed. ‘Mother, this is my Elain. My mat-. Elain.’

Eris felt an elbow in his ribs then Nesta murmured, ‘What the hell is going in this room?’

‘I wish I knew.’

The Illyrians followed in then the high lord with a now-clean babe against his chest, making the room feel a lot smaller than it was.

‘Shall we do this?’ Cassian said it as if it was no more a burden than tidying up. A simple thing that wouldn’t have everlasting repercussions on any of them.

Nesta hooked a finger against his. ‘The trust I gave you here – return it to me.’ She swallowed, then in a louder voice announced, ‘There doesn’t need to be an audience for this. Only me and Cassian need to be there. And, you, of course, Helion.’

The male was hardly listening. Dark eyes were still unbearably staring at Eris’ mother. He’d known they had once been friends. They were the same age. Their fathers had traded goods. She’d mentioned him a handful of times many years earlier, cried even when he became high lord under the mountain after his family’s slaughter. But this was something else. Something Eris did not like. Nor did he like his wife being alone with either of those two males.

Let her do this, sweetheart.

It was his mother’s voice broaching the walls of his mind.

Give them privacy in such an intimate moment.

Mother knows best, I suppose? He replied.

Always.

***

Nesta could not fight the tremble in her hands. Her mood had been jittery all morning, unable to settle fully in anticipation of what lay ahead. And nobody truly knew what did lay ahead. Eris had found dozens of accounts across history of mates who had lost their other half and it never fared well, but for those who chose to end the bond, it was marginally better for the females. Despite everything that had happened between them, Nesta still worried for Cassian. Worried about how he would take this rejection. She knew he’d had nobody growing up until Rhysand stepped in. Knew this was special to him. It was silly to care so much for him when it wasn’t shared. If he had put her first, maybe they would never have gotten here.

His gaze was painful. She’d tried not to look at him the last time she was here, delivering Feyre’s child. It hurt too much to be near him. Despite the best intentions of not letting emotions in, they found a way to creep into every crack that Nesta hadn’t managed to plug. From reading the accounts provided by Eris, she understood what mates were – their rarity, the uniqueness of a bond. To take that from Cassian seemed cruel even for her. But Nesta did not want that. She did not want to be tied to him any longer. Maybe if the bond had never been there, he’d never have looked twice at her. Maybe he’d have loved her for who she was and not who he wanted her to be.

‘High lady soon then, Nes?’

She stiffened at the address. There was no warmth in Cassian’s expression either.

‘No. I do not want that.’

‘I’m sure Eris does.’

Nesta swallowed against the dryness of her throat. ‘No. He respects my wishes.’

That’s why we are in this situation, she wanted to add, because I have a mate who does not and a husband who does.

‘This is what you want? If Eris has forced you into it, we’ll break the deal somehow. I’ll find a way to do it, Nes. Just come home to me. I don’t care about the last few months with Eris. It doesn’t matter.’ Cassian swallowed. ‘I want you to come home.’

Her brow pinched. It was all about him. Him needing her home. Wanting her home. Not because he loved her – had he ever said it? Not because of who she was. Couldn’t he see the changes in her since leaving the Night Court?  

‘This was never my home.’

‘Yes, it was.’

She gave him a wilting smile. ‘When I had been forced into the Cauldron or when you trapped me in the House of Wind? You have never wanted to see me grow.’

Cassian frowned, eyes narrowing. ‘I didn’t want to see you hurting anymore.’

There was no anger in her voice, no rising tones. Just a realisation that this was how it should be. ‘You put me in a box and decided that was how I should be. You cut off all of my thorns rather than be careful around them. Eris is the sun who caused me to grow and even to bloom. He didn’t know who I’d become, but he’s happy with whoever I am. I’m not Morrigan. I’m not Feyre. Maybe if you had realised that sooner, you wouldn’t have hurt me for not being them.’

Helion began his spell work; firstly, he sought their bond by teasing it out from the depths then came the arduous process of unravelling it.

‘Every bond is unique. They differ in their makeup, making it more difficult sometimes to break it. There are some bonds – I’d wager Azriel’s would be if he finds a mate – that are like smoke, unable to be touched properly, harder to find. Some are like spun threads, tangled together.’ Helion gave a soft chuckle. ‘Yours, unsurprisingly, is like steel.’

‘Can you break it?’

Was that hope in Cassian’s voice? A promise that maybe Nesta would remain tied to him for an eternity. The thought made Nesta sick to her stomach. She never wanted to be owned.

‘I’ll manage, but it will take some time.’

Time was something that Nesta had centuries of. It didn’t matter how long it took as long as it was done.

It was odd and unpleasant. There was a constant tug against her ribs and chest like something being forcibly pulled or dislodged. Occasionally, Nesta noticed a slight grimace on Cassian’s lips to match the wrench of magic through their bodies.

Although it was brutal of Eris to demand the end of the bond for saving Feyre, only he could be bold enough to do it – and she would always thank him for it. Eris did what needed to be done. He always did. The thought of a lifetime with him, at his side – never behind – was the sunshine that pulled Nesta through this process. Every tug of magic, every white-hot lance of pain, was a step closer to a future with her husband. No Cassian. No Beron. No scheming. Well, maybe a little scheming because Eris would struggle to give it up. No matter what happened with Briallyn or Koschei, she had a husband who would stop the world from turning to protect her.

Nesta knew it was done before Helion announced it. Something was missing. She couldn’t say what, only that her body knew that something had been taken away. There was a dull ache in its place where Helion had sawed and unravelled the bond. Cassian, too, was rubbing beneath his ribs as if trying to soothe a pain.

Helion departed quietly, giving them a moment to decompress.

‘I hope you’re happy now,’ muttered Cassian.

It was only relief that flooded Nesta’s body.

‘If you think me so vindictive, why did you want me to keep the bond? You paint me as a villain at every turn and then wonder why I can’t love you.’

‘You’d never have loved a bastard-born Illyrian anyway.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘I wanted to. I wanted you so badly it hurt sometimes.’

It was dangerous to push like this when the bond had been wrenched away from him against his will, but Nesta struggled to play nice and jail her tongue, not when Cassian and Morrigan would peck from her at every turn.

‘You should have loved me, Cassian. You should have loved me like I deserved.’

Anger simmered in his hazel eyes. ‘If Eris hadn’t stolen you-’

Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing him. ‘You had me march behind you until I collapsed then you left me outside of your tent. Anything could have hurt me, Cassian. Anything could have taken me. Do not blame Eris that you were a terrible partner who wanted me to suffer to please your high lord.’ Nesta did not know why she was telling Cassian this. Perhaps because this would be the last time they’d have to meet this way. ‘Do you know why I married Eris? So that I wouldn’t be forced back to this court. He put himself in danger from his father and all of you to protect me. It wasn’t love until the Winter Court ball when I realised that he didn’t expect anything from me except to be happy.’

Without realising it, Nesta had got to her feet and loomed over Cassian who still sat on the low-slung couch.

‘So don’t you dare blame him for ruining us when it was all your doing. The bond is severed, Cassian. I hope this is the last time I’m forced to endure your company. Goodbye.’

Colour likely dotted her cheeks as she exited back to the living room. She tried to hold on as long as she could – past the people gathered in the living room – told herself she was the Lady of the Autumn Court now and crying or breaking down in front of the Night Court was not an option.

‘Let’s go home,’ she managed to say as she reached for Eris’ hand. Her mother-in-law stood too, sweeping her head into a graceful incline then took Eris’ other hand.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the gaps in the broad canopies and Nesta let out her sigh of relief to be back in the Autumn Court. Eris’ grip on her hand was tight as if he was scared that she might disappear.

Ashur lingered by the gates to the Autumn Court ready to escort them back inside the grounds, but instead he lifted a bundle from the ground and passed it to Eris then extended an elbow for Eliška. ‘See you later.’

Whatever Eris had planned, Nesta did not want it. She wanted to bury her head beneath the blankets and hide from the encroaching bad mood. A thumb swept against her cheek. His eyes were forlorn, but still he did not speak, only pulled an arm around her to winnow them somewhere.

A wind nipped at her cheeks. They stood upon a stone bridge leading to an island. Atop it was a weathered, stone castle. It wasn’t beautiful like one from a story; it reminded Nesta of a gnarled, old man that had withstood the test of time. Rugged hills stretched out beyond the water, tucking the island away from view.

‘What is this place?’

Eris kissed her temple. ‘Home.’

Her eyes sharpened on the quiet hills. The song of birds soaked into her skin. The landscape was gorgeous, with purple heather streaking the inclines and the sun reflecting off the rippling blue ocean.

‘It was once a residence of the high lords of this court, but my father loathed it. Said it was too isolated – a place for cowards to hide.’ He took Nesta by the hand, leading her over the stone walkway. She realised then that Ashur had presented them with another picnic after their previous one had been interrupted. ‘It is isolated. Apart from a handful of sleepy villages, it’s unknown. It is not on any map because the wards are as good as Velaris’. It is a place for peace. I know the Forest House can be overwhelming, so if you desire a place for privacy then this can be our home.’

When Nesta tried to speak, Eris brushed his thumb against her lips. ‘We can both winnow. It is no issue to return to the Forest House for council meetings. I just want you to be somewhere where you’re comfortable and happy and where you feel safest.’

A castle. Her strange mood had shifted to disbelief. Not because Eris had presented a castle to her, but because he appeared bashful and nervous for once.

They walked through the lofty halls whilst Eris suggested changes they could make, if she approved them, if there were rooms she desired. The stables had already been cleaned ready to bring the horses and there were kennels on the land so the dogs did not have to live in the house though she was sure Safera would not be happy with the arrangement. There was a library which peaked her interest, but the part that made her love him even more was when Eris stopped in a large room that was high enough in the castle to peer out at the snow-capped peaks of the Winter Court in the distance.

‘And this one is large enough for three beds for when we manage to coax Emerie and Gwyneth here.’

Her bottom lip began wobbling.

‘Don’t cry,’ Eris murmured, drawing her close and cupping her cheek. ‘Please, don’t cry. Was it painful with Helion and-’

‘Nobody has ever loved me like you.’

His amber eyes canvassed her face then a lingering kiss was pressed to her forehead. ‘Then more fool them for not appreciating how utterly spectacular you are. From the moment that you stood up against every high lord to tell your story – to make them all listen – I was enchanted by you.’

‘I want to live here with you. I would live in a world without the sun if it was at your side.’ Nesta gave a small laugh as she held onto his arm. ‘Eris, I would follow you into the dark just to hold your hand.’

The nervousness came over him again. He nodded, swallowing audibly, as he peeled himself out of her grip. In his pocket, he reached for something then knelt onto one knee.

‘Will you marry me?’

Nesta’s fingers tangled within his hair. ‘We’re already married.’

‘It was under duress. A rushed ceremony in a nightgown. You deserve better. I know this is the mortal way. Will you marry me again? Marry me properly?’

‘Yes. In every lifetime.’  

Ahhhh it's over. Once again, thank you so much for reading. I hope I've given Neris a worthy story. The castle at the end is based upon Eilean Donan Castle in the Scottish Highlands which is just gorgeous. Rhys might build Feyre a fancy estate but Eris got his princess a castle.

Tags: @owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

[thefuseoftemptation]

—STUCK IN THE MUD

‘Reader is struggling through depression though Eddie refuses to leave their side, even under such a time.’

EDDIE MUNSON X GN!READER

WARNING(S): cussing, brief mentions/implied depression, struggling reader, hurt/comfort? Let me know if there are more. Please don’t read if depression is triggering for you. NOT PROOFREAD.

. . .

The grass stroked your forehead as you lied there in its wet hug, just to the side where it met with the concrete curb in front of your lot.

There was no urge to get up, no urge to move from the uncomfortable and grey setting, but to be honest, it all was grey. And it had been like that for a while.

Everything seemed like that to you.

The tears that were once tucked at your tear ducts fell fluently just like the drops from the sky. Both of them sliding together as one as they slid ‘cross the curves of your cheeks. It was pelting out, but it went unheard.

You could hardly see what was before you, though it might’ve been too from the tears and lack of trying. You lied there slumped and still, your arm extended out as you tried to feel for the tips of the grass with your hand, but nothing. Then moved it to the little puddles of mud there.

That’s how it felt—like being stuck in mud. Your feet couldn’t be seen with how much further below they were—buried underneath it. And every time you tried to move, every time you tried to breathe, you sunk further and further, and before you knew it—the heaviness of the mud was pushing you down to where you couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, and couldn’t breathe no more.

It was just never ending.

And you could only shut your eyes and cry. Though the time was brief, as you heard tires, and then the shut of the door.

“Christ!” And sure you might’ve not been fully there, you know well enough of whose voice it was. Knowing that that name doesn’t just come from everybody’s mouths.

Eddie.

Sure, he had become quite used to your lack of show once a few days went by and still no word from you but he just figured it was you being you—you’d go days without telling others where you were and then just show up as if it was nothing. Though it still never kept the guy from worrying every second he went without you.

But when he hadn’t seen or heard from you in weeks, he just ‘bout had it.

Every time he’d keep watch of your seat only for it to be empty throughout class, how he’d stop by your locker as per usual but was never met with a nudge, the thrums to the door that were never opened to, his visits to your window late at night or even in the wee hours of the morning only to be greeted by it locked, or his every call that was made but never picked up because you couldn’t get out of your current state.

Not even a few steps from where he suddenly stopped the vehicle to where he stood before you and he was all wet. His curls stuck to his forehead as he looked down at you before crouching to his knees. He knew.

Eddie’s known you for years, so he’s seen you at your lowest of lows. But never has he ever seen it to this extent. To where it looked like you weren’t even there.

His knuckles stroked your cheeks as he watched you, your eyes hadn’t even left where they were staring—still looking at the mud.

“Oh, Y/L/N…” He murmured. It was so gentle, so quiet. He could feel himself suddenly solemn, much like you were then. “I’m here, yeah? I’m here, and m’not leaving.” He hadn’t even taken the keys out of the ignition, and the headlights were still on but he couldn’t seem to be bothered by it.

So wet, Eddie slowly lied next to you in the grass. One arm tucked under yours as the other extended out too until his hand was on top of your hand, fingers intertwining. The mud that was once covering the tips of your fingers now smeared onto his—little flecks here and there as he held your hands up together.

Eddie set his chin on top of your shoulder from where he was, nudging the side of your neck with his nose as he tried to take in your scent. Trying not to forget it as he’d been weeks without you, a length of time in which you were by yourself, struggling.

“M’so sorry.” He was murmuring into your shoulder, it was ‘bout nothing really, just trying to get your head in the proper state, trying to keep you leveled.

And Eddie was nothing if not a talker. Never being able to keep quiet, much less keep still. So there he was too, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

The drops from the sky had yet to cease, still pelting as you two lied there, and he knew you guys would be getting sick from it but as long as you were together then all was well.

Eddie stopped his murmurs when he felt you squeeze his hand twice. There was no verbality, but there was a way of showing response through other languages—often used too when it came to these types of times. The simple gesture was a sign, it was a ‘thank you.’

He released a sigh into your neck before pecking the side of your temple and pulling your back into his chest. By then, your tears had stopped much like the sky stopped its.

Even though Eddie couldn’t have known, it never stopped him from thinking he could’ve tried more to get to you. Sure, he couldn’t help you through everything, he sure as hell could be there for you through everything.

And if it meant lying in the grass under the grey sky, wet and muddy, so be it.

. . .

A/N: Feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[rohoenergy]

VESPER

When I made the first tape I didn’t know what the plan was I kinda just wanted to put out a tape for me and my friends. Even internally trying to harvest my potential in areas where I felt like seeds were planted for me and they were not entirely my own. Nothing can prepare you for the things that come with this music shit when you’re a small town boy and a virgin to the the city. EPHEMERAL was the root chakra, a moment in time that is frozen forever. A starting and referencing point. On occasion I still go back and visit that version of me for solace and guidance. 

I spent 2years after that in and out of love, in and out of vices, in and out the city, around and away from home…trying to make something of my myself even if to simply just make sense of my own life and it’s intended form. 

I had many studio sessions with MARS in 2021 even some virtual ones with EARL trying to create something and nothing would came out of my body. Nothing came out of my vocal cords either, I lost and fuckedup my singing voice, quite literally gave up on the idea of pursuing music for a while. (Wasn’t being “mysterious” lol. Was just going thru some things). But this life I swear, something about this life is so intricately designed that things are always in their place even when they feel out of place. VESPER came to me in a meditation. At night. And even the irony of a “vesper” being a literal night prayer. When VERSPER came to me that night it came with a new voice box, a new body and a new form. I kept a black leather journal these past two years and in one of the pages there’s some doodles with “ARCHANGEL” written in jet-black ink that held the formula for the entire project. I’ve been working subconsciously on this album for 3years without knowing it. 

This year I came back home to my mother’s house, I was hesitant on returning and starting from zero—especially after creating habits and new ways. She would hug me on my lowest days and tell me that I possess more power than I actually credit myself for and just like everybody else I needed to evaluate the shadow and embrace it because it won’t always be daytime. VESPER is nighttime. Venus in the night sky. It is redemption, for myself and for my conscious. I spent a portion of my life’s prime years around muses and amazing things and amazing people and we all seemed to come alive in the night, the most vulnerable time of day. VESPER is my shadow work in the most intensive way, goin through life’s darkest alleyways and venues. It is the realisation of your solitude even in the crowd, it is the most annoying and intrusive thoughts, it is emotional venom and sex…lots of it. VESPER is a scorpio, the sacral chakra. The divine feminine, my very own Lilith. VESPER is also the alchemy of redirecting all my misfortunes into shit I can scream out loud on stage to a crowd of open hearts as a form of therapy and healing. But most importantly, VESPER is me enjoying myself in the presence of everybody else. A beam of selenite glow on a new moon. The other side…

[milkflavouredchair]

Im curious, how does Randy interact with everybody else? or how would you describe his personality in this AU? I'm very fond of dinamic changes and I need to know how the "having no friends" affected him

I'm a sucker for AUs I wish I had time to draw them all together YOUR AU ROCKSS

THANKS!! I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT, AND IM GLAD OTHERS LIKE IT AS WELL!!!

Randy I'd say is still his upbeat self, just a little more... Crazy... And even though he didn't have friends growing up, instead of it making him socially awkward and unable to talk to people, I think it just made him REALLY bad at telling his own and others emotions (think entrapta from She-Ra).

I'd also like to list his interactions with others and what he thinks of them/what they think of him. (Little bit of a long list)

Viceroy - Randy sees Viceroy as a father figure of sorts. Viceroy was the one to pick him up when he was at his lowest, and for that he feels indebted to him (much to Viceroy's displeasure. Because to Viceroy, Randy also feels like his son, and he doesn't want him feeling like he's OBLIGATED to stay with him and work for McFist).

They have a good and strong relationship, and their idea of bonding is building robots to destroy the Ninja while laughing manically + bitching about McFist.

McFist - I already talked about their relationship, but they don't get along swimmingly, especially at first. They ATTEMPT to have a professional relationship, and they manage half the time.

Marci - Marci and Randy get along really well (which pisses McFist off) when they're together, which isn't much actually. Randy mainly visited the McFists when he was young (about 12) and Viceroy dragged him along. Now they really only see eachother sparingly during work hours (they love to chit-chat and catch up though).

Bash - They don't really know much about each other, but they know OF each other. The most they've ever really spoken was when McFist got tired of having to babysit Bash and just left him with Randy for a "playdate". (McFist deeply regretted this later, as Randy had managed to convince Bash to slip Turmeric into all his fancy soaps)

Howard - Howard and Randy are still VERY good friends in my AU. They first met eachother at "Greg's Game Hole" (or more accurately the "Food Hole") where they manage to strike up a conversation. Howard actually manages to find out Randy's homeschooled because of his attitude and weird questions.

After this revelation, Howard starts telling Randy EXTREMELY exaggerated things about what school like. They quickly exchanged numbers and become close friends. (And Viceroy is ECSTATIC that he's made a friend)

Julian - Randy got introduced to Julian through Howard. They both bond quickly because they both aren't really considered "normal" by most peoples standards. They were also both (in a sense) raised by the Internet, and know dumb, niche references Howard does not (he's not too happy to be left out of the joke).

(And because I'm a sucker for juliandy) I think Julian would develop a crush on Randy after some time, but because of Randy's stupid, lizard brain, Julian could literally be like "You're like the sun, your smile is so warm it could warm up even the coldest of hearts, and for that, I love you" and then Randy would say some shit like "Aww, you're my best friend too, Julian!" (He's trying, but his skull is EMPTY)

Julian was also VERY surprised to not only learn that his crushes dad was the one who kept trying to destroy him, but his crush TOO was trying to destroy him. (He gets along with Viceroy for Randy's sake)

Ninja - I feel like he wouldn't really have a hatred towards the ninja, more like "strange fixation" as he describes it (his ass does NOT know how a celebrity crush works).

And his love language is sending out killer robots <3

(ask if you want me to explain his relationship with someone who's not here, I will gladly do so)

[fionaapplerocks]

I read I was dead on the Internet.

POP QUIZ -- Q & A With Fiona Apple Published 4:00 am PST, Sunday, Dec 7, 1997

Q: Was this a good year to be Fiona Apple?

A: This was the best year. For me, the best times are always going to be the most intense, the ones with the highest highs and the lowest lows. I was so pissed off that I was misunderstood on this whole worldwide level for a while that it discouraged me. Because I don't feel that way anymore, I can use those experiences and think they're wonderful. If I had the worst of times this year and I had the best times, that means I really kicked ass because I got past those worst times.

Q: Any reflections on your acceptance speech at the MTV Awards?

A: That was a big step for me, and it had nothing to do with the content of my speech, or lack thereof. It was the fact that I said what I wanted to say. If I can't show everybody out there that I'm willing to go up there and make an a-- out of myself and be inarticulate and be nervous and be angry, then I have no right speaking because I have nothing to offer that hasn't been seen before.

Q: Do you feel old now that you have turned 20?

A: I don't know how I would feel old or young. I don't understand how people can really answer questions like that. I have no basis of comparison. I've never been anyone else.

Q: Do you feel more mature?

A: I was just telling my sister yesterday that I feel like I'm 6 years old. Everything I do with my free time is absurdly kindergartenlike. All I do in hotel rooms is, I lay out the blanket on the floor and get a bunch of magazines and make collages. I had a day off yesterday and that's all I did.

Q: Are you worried your next album will lack the intimate quality of your debut?

A: A lot of times when you're surrounded by all these people it can be even lonelier than when you're by yourself. It can be a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anybody or talk to anybody, then you feel like you're really alone. I have a very steadfast tendency to parent myself, to monitor my development into the person I want to be. I've tried to keep the corruption minimal. I try not to pay too much attention to what goes on around me. It's like when you see those horses pulling carriages in Central Park and they've got those blinders on so they don't get spooked by the traffic outside. I feel like I'm in a place where I don't feel too comfortable, so I'm just going to keep my eyes on the road ahead of me and not look around and not get spooked or brought down by anything.

Q: What's the best rumor you've heard about yourself?

A: I read I was dead on the Internet.

Q: How did you die?

A: I don't know. I just heard about it yesterday.

Q: It must be your a𝑛or𝑒xia.

A: Yeah, that's great. I dare anybody to look at me and I say I'm a𝑛or𝑒xic. I'm so totally not.

Q: Does it bother you that people make out to your music?

A: Hell, no. I don't care what people do. Honestly, I don't care how people remember my first album. I did it for my own reasons. I don't have a big thing with leaving my mark or being historic. It made me feel good. It made some other people feel good.

Q: What do you listen to when you make out?

A: What's really good is African drum music.

Q: Did your boyfriend (magician David Blaine) really get your name tattooed on his shoulder?

A: Yes. He did it as a surprise. He had talked about it, but I kept telling him not to do it. I would feel stupid if somebody had to get me removed. It's not like he'll ever have to get it removed, though, because we'll always stay best friends.

Q: What did you do to show your devotion to him?

A: I have a tattoo and part of it says "kin" on it, because I call him my kin. He's my best friend. I'm a writer so, of course, I'm going to find something a little more poetic than just somebody's name.

Q: Are you going drinking when you turn 21?

A: Come on. I got drunk when I was 5. Everybody gets drunk before they're 21.

Q: Do you really believe that you will die young, as you said in a recent Spin article?

A: I was being sarcastic, but the writer just didn't get it. I wasn't misquoted or anything. I don't think anyone had it out for me or anything, but I was just misunderstood. I had been fighting all day about what I was going to wear and how I was going to look at the photo shoot. I just got p -- off and was in a weird mood. I was being deadpan and the man didn't get it. I got into therapy in the fifth grade because I said I was going to kill myself in a sarcastic way and they didn't get it then. Nothing's changed.

By Aidin Vaziri

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 10

Also on Ao3 :)

Find Ch. 10 here!

Tamlin shifted Penny around and set her on the ground beside him. She tried and failed to fix her hair and calm the blush that was buzzing around her face and ears. 

“Hello!” She ventured, having to stop to clear her throat. “Uh, welcome back! We weren’t expecting you for a few days.” 

Hiding what appeared to be surprise and unbridled amusement, Rhysand sketched a shallow bow. “Apologies, lady. We did not mean to interrupt. But we had reason to believe time was of the essence, and we had to shift our timetable a bit.” 

The four drew closer, and Tamlin moved forward to greet them in front of the entryway. Doing his best to appear unruffled by Rhysand’s presence, he extended a hand to the open foyer. “Let’s convene in my study. There are plenty of seats where we can talk.” Everyone followed Tamlin and Penny deeper into the house and then the study. Lucien surveyed the area that she knew he must have been intimately familiar with with a pang of sorrow plainly on his face. As he brushed past her, she noted his smell was a bit different this time. The same sun-warmed apple and cinnamon, but maybe a hint of pear and honey, too? Whatever immortal smelling sense she’d adopted in this world was strange. She needed to stop huffing everybody who passed her. 

The group found their way to the chairs within the study, and Rhys wasted no time in sharing his reasons for being there. 

“Penny, I would like to be able to see into your mind. As I stated, I think it’ll be a much easier way for you to show me what you know. We can always go from there to form additional questions, but I think this will save everyone the most time.” She could practically hear Tamlin gritting his teeth, but he was doing a remarkably good job keeping it together for her. 

“Alright. Will it hurt?” She asked. Rhys laughed softly, but she could all but feel Tamlin vibrating with rage.

“No, it will be very gentle if you don’t resist when I go into your head.” The lowest growl possible came from Tamlin, barely a whisper, but Azriel and Cassian angled their bodies slightly towards him. 

“Okay. It’s fine. I think you’re right. Do I…do I just sit here?”

“Yes, you’ll feel a gentle scraping against the outer edges of your mind. That’s me there.” She closed her eyes, nodding, and reached blindly out for Tamlin’s hand. He took it immediately, though she didn’t open her eyes to see the looks that she knew the males in the room were exchanging. Let them see that Tamlin wasn’t the monster they believed. She only knew she needed him connected to her for this. 

Rhys was right, and she felt the gentlest of touches on what she imagined was the inside of her mind. She waited for them to move inside in some way, but they seemed to hesitate. It almost felt like they were poking and prodding a bit. She giggled. 

“That tickles a bit.” 

“Penny, I need you to raise your walls.”

“Raise my what? What do you mean?”

“Your mental walls. They’re up and…I can’t get through them. That’s not typically the case. Can you lift them so I can get in?”

“I would if I had any idea what you meant, I swear. I have no idea what a mental wall even looks like.” She opened one of her eyes to varied looks of interest to curiosity to concern. “Can you tell me how?”

He arched brow at her. “You mean you aren’t doing this intentionally? I just assumed Tamlin had shown you how.” She turned to Tamlin and found his own puzzled stare meeting hers. 

“No, I’ve never had anyone look in my head. They don’t do that where I’m from.” 

“Very interesting indeed….Alright. Picture your mind like a fortress. Imagine the walls that guard it hold and protect all your thoughts and dreams and memories inside. I want you to visualize what that looks like to you.” Penny immediately pictured the manor. Not like I have much experience visualizing fortresses. Rhys laughed. 

“Could you hear that?”

“Yes, you projected that thought rather loudly.” She focused on the manor, with vines of all varieties creeping up the walls. Flowers covered entire portions of the house, and she imagined them weaving together to protect all the windows and doors in a beautiful but solid display of protectiveness. 

“Hmm, Springy. Nice touch.” Rhys quipped. She laughed. “Can you feel my presence there?” She looked in her mind again, where, in front of her mind-manor, there was a presence of inky starlight touching the vine-woven door gently. 

“Yes. You’re at the front door.”

“Alright, can you unweave those vines and allow me to come in?” She did as he said, imagining the winding vines covering the door peeling back little by little until they unveiled the large swinging french doors to the manor. She felt the presence slip inside her mind and gasped lightly. 

Suddenly, it was as though the manor had disappeared and she was seeing all of her memories sifted through like a slideshow. Her mother laughing, her father staring at her mother with love in his eyes and ruffling Penny’s hair. Her mother’s funeral, then her father in a hospital bed as she held his hand and rested her head on the makeshift cot beside him. Desperately looking out the lone window down the one hallway of her job. Coming home to sit alone, eat alone, sleep alone, and wish for more. She could feel the tears prickling the backs of her eyes as she gripped Tamlin’s hand more firmly. He didn’t hesitate to put another hand on hers and she felt him begin to draw gentle circles on her wrist.

The pictures shifted to the books she read, flying at light speed before her eyes. She saw both words and pictures as she flew through her memories of each of the three series, finishing on all the books that pertained to them. She could feel him smirking in her head at the descriptions of him from Feyre’s perspective. 

“Don’t get cocky, or your ego won’t fit in the manor any longer,” she murmured and heard Cassian chuckle on the couch to her left. 

He continued to look through the information she’d garnered about the series, as well as theories she’d discussed in online groups late into the night. If he was confused by any of the technology, he didn’t stop to elaborate, perhaps saving the questions for later. Penny herself was finding it odd that her memories didn’t seem as clear to her as they once had. It was like seeing the world as she once had, but fuzzier, blurry around the edges. She wondered if her time here might be doing something to her memories of her previous life the longer she stayed, or if this was a consequence of the magic. The memories, weirdly, almost didn’t feel like her own anymore when she saw them through Rhys’ eyes. 

He continued to speed through until he landed on her arrival in the Spring Court, her first night and the subsequent day with Tamlin. Felt his amusement as she watched her tell him off for his attitude. Watched as a passenger as he flipped through their budding friendship, and saw it bloom into something more on her end. Felt her terror at seeing him in danger when the naga attacked, and her protectiveness as she battled them off, seeing nothing but rage and the safety of the one she cared for. 

Then, as quickly as it started, his presence departed from her head. It hadn’t been painful, but her head was reeling. She leaned back in the chair as Rhys shook his head across from her. 

“That was…a lot.” He murmured, leaning back. 

“I’ll say.” Her head was swimming, but he’d been right. Looking back on that it would have taken years to tell him everything, and there’s no way she would have remembered to tell him everything. She wondered how much he could possibly retain from such a brief flip-through. She looked up to him, but he was looking at Tamlin like he was seeing him for the first time. She blushed mildly, recalling he had seen a few of their more private moments just now. She decided to change the topic. 

“So, how does this work? You managed to understand all that?”

“Somewhat. It’ll take a bit for me to understand and put together all I saw. I will need a bit and then I can formulate some more in-depth questions once I have everything understood.” He paused, as if in thought. “I do think, however, that we should be thinking more about the short term implications of having you here in our world. This information might help us in the long run, but I think your presence here now is of much more vital precedence.” She furrowed her brow. 

“What do you mean? Like my magic?”

“I think that you have no idea how powerful you could be. I don’t think I've ever come across anyone who can do what you’ve shown you can. And it’s rare I’ve met anyone who can shield that fully without having ever been taught, let alone without knowing they’re doing it at all. Have you considered training your powers? Seeing how far they might stretch?” Her eyes shot to Tamlin. 

“Yes! That’s actually what we were doing just before you showed up.” Cassian snorted and ribbed Azriel, who rolled his eyes. She cut them a look. “He’s been training me in combat since shortly after I arrived, but he was helping me with my magic this morning.” Lucien was the one who looked the most startled by this information, likely since he was around when Feyre was trying to learn more about her power. The look wasn’t missed by Tamlin, who appeared to shrink back a bit, knowing what everyone was surely thinking. Rhys broke the silence. 

“Penny, I would like to offer my court to help Tamlin train you. I think that, between the different powers and specializations, we could help you learn more about your own magic, as well as prepare you for anything that may come, should that be of interest to you.” 

She nodded readily. Her first instinct was to look to Tamlin. “You can still train me, though, right?” She looked around to the others in the room. “I’m obviously the most comfortable with him, no offense, but I would like him to keep being the one training me primarily, at least in hand-to-hand.” She noticed him straighten up a few inches in her periphery at this. She turned and smiled reassuringly at him. 

“Of course. I figured I could send a person or two at a time. Aside from Tamlin, Cassian can also help with any combat or strength-related training. Feyre and I–” Tamlin flinched.”--can help with any mind-shielding. Azriel can continue to allow her to use his power and see how far she can push it, if she can manipulate it the way he can. Same for Lucien and his fire.” A thought occurred to her suddenly. 

“Oh, the fire! That’s why I almost burned the gazebo down after you were here! I touched your arm to lead you out!” Lucien began cackling as the others shared entertained looks. “I thought that just might be a cool new thing I was doing. I had no idea I was borrowing it from someone!” 

Rhys turned back to Tamlin and Penny in turn. “I know that this is not ideal for you, Tamlin, but this is for her protection.” 

“Is it?” He snapped back, a bit too quickly. “Are you going to turn her into a weapon for your own use?” Penny put her hand onto his forearm in a caress she hopes sent a reassuring message. 

“I won’t do anything I’m not comfortable with. And you’ll be there with me, right?” She asked, eyes pleading. She hoped she could convey that this was not in any way an attempt to undermine him or put distance between them. In fact, the thought of being without him felt like a knife to her heart in its wrongness. 

He softened immediately. “Of course, I will be. Every step of the way,” he breathed, his demeanor calm again, eyes only focused on her. 

“Alright then, it’s settled. I will begin training, and you can establish any questions you have for me to answer. It would be helpful to know at each training session who will be coming for the next one, and I would suggest we phase them a few days apart so that we still have time to take care of the day-to-day things here,” She didn’t miss Tamlin’s beaming smile as she referred to Spring in a way that implied it was her home to take care of, too. “If that’s all okay with everyone, I would say we have a deal.”

Rhysand rose and took her hand. “Maybe we can make it a bargain.” He smiled at her wolfishly. 

“You really are a huge ass,” she laughed, but jerked her hand back nonetheless and heard a growl growing in Tamlin’s throat. 

They walked the rest of them out, back to the pathway leading to the gardens.

“Cassian will be back tomorrow, just to monitor what you’ve already learned with Tamlin, if that’s alright. We want to see where your fighting levels are and what you can achieve in terms of shifting. He’ll report back, and we can go from there.” At that moment, a sentry came up to get Tamlin’s approval on something, so Penny turned back to the group on his behalf.

“Sounds good to me. Wonderful to see you all. Cassian, good to meet you.” She gave a mock salute, then lowering her voice a bit, she spoke”: “You better play nice with him, Rhysand. I mean it.” His grin returned–his teeth sharp and the smile that of a predator.

“I underestimated you, Penny Briggs. Though I get the feeling that’s not an uncommon occurrence for you.” She smirked and raised a brow. The rest of the group winnowed as Rhys sketched a final bow to her. “I am very glad that you’re here, Penny.” And then he blinked away into crisp starlight.

[mizkit]

new blog post: critical for author websites - summary!

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/critical-for-author-websites-summary/

critical for author websites - summary!

So I got about forty responses from my question a few weeks ago about what was critical to have on an author website, and the overwhelming response was that these, in more or less this order, are what readers are looking for:

What’s New

What’s Next

ALL THE BOOKS

Reading Order, particularly if that’s different from the publication order

CURRENT! INFORMATION!

Okay, so this was pretty interesting! I’m gonna go into some of these more, and then touch on some of the less-widely-asked-for-but-still-requested features!

WHAT’S NEW – well, this is pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it? Readers want this front and centre.

WHAT’S NEXT – the most interesting thing about this to me was people asking for as much lead time as possible on this. It’s probable that people who are coming to your author website are the most likely to preorder things, so if something’s available for them to preorder, they want to do that NOW!

ALL THE BOOKS – also pretty self-explanatory, but subclasses of this include:

Books listed by series

Notification of whether a series is complete! I wouldn’t have thought of this, probably because I know, but this makes sense. Readers want to know whether there are more stories coming or whether a series has wrapped up, or perhaps ended prematurely.

Maybe short blurbs for each title, to remind readers where they are in a series

READING ORDER – Listed by series is clearly great, but a lot of readers would like actual reading order, particularly if the author’s recommended reading order isn’t the same as the publication order.

This includes short stories/bonus material/etc at the correct chronological points, and if series intertwine, a notification of when and where this happens along with a recommended reading order (ie, the author recommends you start with Series X, read up to Book 5, read Series Y up through book 7 where they cross over, and then continue with whichever series you want to, or whatever).

CURRENT INFORMATION – this is really critical. A lot of respondees said it was incredibly frustrating to go to an author’s website to discover the last time it was updated was 4 books ago, which, of course, yeah. I also get really frustrated when I go to an author’s site and find out it’s not current. :)

Beyond those things, other things that readers said would be nice to see were:

Social media links – including newsletters and patreons! – one reader specifically said, “If there’s ways to get bonus content, tell me about it. So I’d add a link to your Patreon with a copy/paste of the lowest tier description that includes bonus/early content access. Then tell me what I get by signing up for your newsletter. You’ve posted a pitch elsewhere, copy/paste it to the sign up page here.”

Other bonus material – maps, short stories; for writers who do sprawling things across a lot of books and a long timeline, maybe a timeline (which dovetails with ‘reading order’), ‘drabbles’

Blog posts, but really only if they’re current

Author appearances, ideally with as much lead time as possible

There was also clearly a strong preference for authors having websites that were updated regularly so people could just go there to find out what they were missing. Readers (correctly, IMHO) felt that a regularly-updated website is much, much more reliable than anything Goodreads, Amazon, Wiki, whatever, might provide in terms of this kind of information, and by all appearances everybody responding really appreciated author websites.

Another writer did suggest that the “what’s new” especially should be an invitation/link/insisting on JOINING OUR NEWSLETTERS (that’s a subtle link to mine!), which is a very, very good idea, because our newsletters are the one way we have to absolutely for sure at least GET information to you (whether you read it or not, that’s between you and your gods, and let’s be real, between me and mine for the newsletters I’m signed up for), but also, look, the truth is, I personally am in fact more likely to go to a writer’s website than sign up for their newsletter, so I’m going to look for a happy medium on that one somehow, because I don’t want to punish readers who aren’t on my newsletter. So I’ll think on that one.

Anyway, overall, this was REALLY HELPFUL and interesting, and I really appreciate everybody who took the time to respond!

[cxncordia]

On another note, but somewhat related to the last thing I posted.

I am tired of the white gayness on screen.

Which is also another thing I will miss from Tarlos.

Let me explain.

Just like there is White Feminism, —a branch of Feminism that often times overlooks the intersection of feminism, race and gender—, there is also white gayness. The term does not exist (well, I don't know if it does). But I will act like I'm coining it.

White Gayness is the idea that we all homosexuals all live under the same rainbow of conditions that a white cisgender homosexual lives in developed countries. More importantly, is the idea that we all look like that and that we all want the same steep vertical relationships.

This is a conversation that started this week because I have been exchanging notes and news articles about Guadagnino's Queer with a friend of mine. She is a cinephile, she loves everything that has to do with movies. Me? I'm just horny for Drew Starkey.

That said, yesterday that the movie was presented, we noticed how most of the press was focused on Starkey's performance and how he was this "new undiscovered talent" and how amazing he had been in the movie. As if he simply appeared out of nowhere and it was the magic touch of Guadagnino that made him fulfill the role that was expected of him.

Yeah, I hated it. Because the movie circle jerk have a lot of time praising shit like Poor Things or Saltburn and very little time to actually live where we humans live. If they would have, they would have noticed Starkey as a powerhouse since his apparition in Outer Banks or Hellraiser. Granted, those are roles that offer very little range, but it's funny how this is the same shit that happened to Charles Melton at the start of the year. Context: back then on Award Season, Melton was rumored to be competing for an Oscar last year for his participation in May December. And I remember clearly how the news wasn't that Melton did a superb work on the movie, but the fact that he was coming from, -dramatic gasp- RIVERDALE!

And that's the whole thing here: news media, specially when conforming around movies, seems to be this hyper critical circle jerk where they all have these high brow opinions on their darlings. I was telling my friend how it angered me that for Drew to actually be considered it mattered not his hard work, but rather the fact that he was chosen by Guadagnino. Also it irked me how they kept mentioning that he was going to be new Chalamet, in comparison of how Call Me By Your Name (directed by Guadagnino) was the movie that put TIMOTHEEEEE CHALAMEEEEEET (read that as the famous TikTok meme) on the radar.

And in this high brow prose the news media outlets keep describing how Guadagnino is actually this superb director that is redefining gay romances on screen because he's presenting two white cisgendered and hegemonic male leads in a gay relationship. Just like the press kept praising Harry Styles and my compadre Alejandro Speitzer for being so brave by wearing skirts and going against the norm.

No. That is actually the lowest of the bar.

The real effort is living as a gay person outside the privilege and the hegemony. Have you tried gay dating near your 40's and as a heavy-set person? Oh trust me, we are the ones redefining the gay experience. Not them. They are just lucky to be hot.

And just like how everybody seemed to miss the context on the fact that Melton's character in May December not only was a minor but also, an Asian-American male. The privilege blinded the characters in the movie that they were scorning a victim and also a person that will be fighting systemic oppression at the same time.

And I hate it. I hate it with a passion that they are crowning Guadagnino for directing the most basic and bland thing. And I hate that they are pulling the plug on one of the most interesting interracial gay couples we have had on a long time.

And I hate that there will be tons of blogs in a year inspired by the movie and wishing to have their own Drew Starkey inspired muse.

I will play with them, because I am just as basic and weak for that FC (and a total hypocrite, albeit self-conscious). But I can still hate it.