#[ i legitimately burst into tears when i opened it ]

[vampyrial]

thoroughbred. | pt. iii: need

summary: reader takes a drug that makes her unspeakably horny but anyone would think Levi was the one who was on it

warnings: reader deals with some weird unexpected feelings about the outcome of her pregnancy test

contains: nsfw (duh), breeding, aphrodisiacs, a little comfort from Levi, Hange is always right

author’s note: sorry I took so long to update i was in a silly goofy mood

part i/part ii

You had to admit you’d been curious about the little vials that sat on the nightstand. It wasn’t that you needed them but you’d heard their effects were potent, apparently it made your arousal more pressing, turned it into almost tortuous need to cum. That sounded a little appealing to you but you didn’t know how to bring it up to Levi. You didn’t want him thinking that you needed it and you really didn’t trust your own eloquence at expressing your desire. 

However, Levi saw you gaze at them while you laid in bed exhausted and pulled an explanation from you. “What, you think you might need it?” He asked “I’m not asking you to go again if you’ve had enough.” You shook your head. “It’s just…” You slurred. “I wanted…I wanted to know how it feels.” Levi stared at you skeptically, forcing you to further explain even though your brain was melting. “I wanted to know how it felt to be teased after I took it. Everyone says it makes you so aroused it hurts. I…I kinda like the idea of that.” You were too fucked out to even be embarrassed.

You were expecting Levi to call you out for being a pervert but you only heard him laugh which broke you out of the your sleepy haze. Your eyelids which had previously been drooping, shot open to see Levi handing you the vial. “Then go ahead. I’ll help you.” You hesitated for a moment before you smiled gratefully and downed the sickly sweet liquid.

The aphrodisiac took effect fast and soon you were squirming, your body felt so hot and every touch made you twitch. Levi obviously enjoyed this development more than he thought he would. He was more of a tease now, working you up slowly with very light touches. Pulling away each time you try to move to move your hips up, trying to feel more of his touch. Only continuing to touch you when you laid back, allowing him to be solely responsible for your pleasure. You ended up gripping the sheets trying to keep from moving all while you begged him for just a little more. 

“Leave everything to me. I don’t want you doing any work at all.”

Your body was exhausted but you couldn’t help but twitch and writhe under his hands. He took it slowly, working you up only to push your hips back down until you let him do as he wished, uninterrupted. You laid flat on your back, trying to resist riding his fingers as he pressed three of them deep inside you. You whimpered, you begged, you had tears in your eyes. And…he enjoyed all of it. He had an earnest smile on his face, not even a mean smirk, his face lit up at the sight of you like this. He was legitimately having fun. Somewhere in your love drunken mind, you were glad for it even though it felt as though you’d burst into tears if he wouldn’t let you cum.

“Oh, please…please, I can’t…” You begged once more and you saw a flicker of something in his eye, sheer glee.

“You can and you will.” Stern as ever, though his voice was soft. He set a punishing pace with his fingers, trailing kisses down your body starting at your sweaty face. It didn’t seem to bother him how much of a mess you’d become under his touch, in fact, you had every reason to believe it pleased him immensely from the soft groans he made each time you squeezed around his fingers. 

You closed your eyes at some point, the sight of him only exacerbating the throbbing need for more. You could feel his kissing trailing downward until he reached your cunt and seemed to get a bit distracted from teasing you. Your eyes popped open the second his tongue reached your clit. His mouth clinged to your clit and he simply decided to stay there nursing at it, groaning at your sounds, soft vibrations that only bring you closer. He pulls his fingers out of you with a wet smack so that he can trace his tongue over your entrance. 

He becomes so focused there at your cunt, licking up all the slick between your folds, that you think he might not mind if you try to roll your hips again. You’re wrong. The second your hips move up and your hands grasp his hair, he pulls away, seizing your hands and holding them at your sides. He looks up at you, his gaze turned stern again, wet from the nose down with your arousal. It makes you throb with need despite yourself, you’d been so close, so close that time. “I-I’m sorry,” You mumbled, panting.

“No, you aren’t,” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But you will be.”

Before you could even respond, he had dragged you to the end of the bed, pushing your legs back further than you thought you were even capable of. He pushed in with a hard thrust that took your breath away and set an intense pace, uncharacteristically unable to control himself. You came after a few seconds of his feverish thrusts, unable to resist any longer. Levi didn’t stop or slow down even, desperately rutting impossibly deep and nearly growling like an animal as he did so, as he felt the silken squeeze of your orgasm. You were vaguely afraid your cunt had turned him feral. He laced his fingers through yours, holding both your hands so tightly it hurt, pressing them to the bed. 

All the while, you were making the most ungodly noises that might have embarrassed you if only you could hear anything over the wet smacking and the sound of Levi’s breath catching in his throat, his low groans rumbling from deep in his throat. He was finding it difficult to slow down even though you were so sensitive that his smallest movement made your vision go white. Levi came surprisingly quickly this time, not that you were complaining, you didn’t know if it was the drugs or something else that made you feel as though electrified the moment he came inside you. It was euphoric, the stall in his thrusts, his gasp, the way that he buried his face in your neck, his hands lifting your hips slightly so that they’d be flush against him. It was amazing how he never wasted a drop, even like this. Always so dutiful. 

Your head lolled back, your eyes closed and you thought the two of you were finished. But Levi, who hadn’t yet pulled out, began thrusting again this time more languidly. “Again?” His voice raw and a little hoarse. You nodded, struck dumb with pleasure. You would never have denied him anything. That time he was far more gentle, featherlight kisses at the corner of your mouth, whispering in your ear telling you to cum for him again. You were both sticky, sweaty and in complete disarray by the time you were ready to pull away from each other but neither of you really seemed to mind. You let him shower first while you gathered up the strength to get out of bed.

Sometime after your days together ended again but before your next set of meetings, you needed to report to the fertility center to be examined and tested. For some reason, you had butterflies, your heart was racing and you were anticipating bad news. You tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t been trying to get pregnant for very long, but you knew that if you found out that you weren’t you would inevitably be disappointed. 

Hange was your practitioner and greeted you warmly. They were very reassuring all throughout. “Don’t worry about the results, that’s my job,” they said as you waited for the test results to appear. “I’m not really supposed to be talking about Levi with you, in theory, but between you and me; I’m sure he won’t mind if he has to put in some extra time.” It made you smile like an idiot, looking at the floor to try and hide your embarrassment. “Yeah? How would you know?” you asked, trying not to read too much into it. They shrugged. “I just know.”

The results appeared on the paper test. Negative. You sighed. Your stomach dropped. It was ridiculous…as long as you weren’t pregnant, you got to routinely have sex with the man you desired the most. No one would fault you for not being pregnant so soon, it was normal. And it wasn’t as if you had any particular yearning for children before. So why did you feel so disappointed? Maybe there was part of you that wanted to be pregnant with Levi’s child for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with the project. Maybe the things you had babbled out, the things you imagined as Levi toyed with your body so efficiently were not just heat of the moment desires. Maybe your yearning went far deeper than you thought. 

“I’d offer you a hug if I wasn’t just handling your urine,” Hange said in a surprisingly serious tone. “Please don’t look so disappointed. It just takes some time.”

You shake your head, trying to clear away the odd melancholy rising up. “I know, it’s okay.”

Hange gave you a sympathetic look before sighing and cataloging the results. You left quickly, rushing out the front door and bumping into someone. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled before returning to reality and seeing that it was Levi, looking at you with concern. 

“Watch where you’re going next time, what the hell are we going to do if you walk into a door and give yourself a concussion?” He said. “I’m sorry…” you apologized again. “I wasn’t saying it to make you…” He trailed off. Analyzing the dazed look on your face, his concern only grew. He decided to cut the scolding and get straight to the issue at hand. “What happened?”

“I’m not pregnant,” you admitted. “I got the test and it turned out negative. It was just routine but I didn’t expect it was gonna feel this…disappointing.” Levi’s expression softened. Some part of him was disappointed too but it wasn’t at you, it wasn’t because he didn’t believe you couldn’t do it just because you weren’t pregnant right then. It was just that the image of you swollen with his child, plagued him day in and day out. The subject of his wet dreams and the image he found his mind drifting to when he needed to relax, to fall asleep. It was like a touchstone at this point although he knew it was odd and perverse to be imagining something like that, to be wanting you more than he should. It was a little bit bitter to see that it hadn’t yet come to fruition and he was weary of what that meant but in the end, he put that aside. 

“It’s alright,” he tried to assure you. “It’s not like we haven’t been trying. I heard someone say it takes six months on average even for a married couple.” Never mind that he didn’t remember exactly who he heard it from or whether it was true, it seemed like a good thing to say right then. You couldn’t help but smile at how earnestly he was trying to comfort you although it made you feel guilty that he should even need to comfort you over something so silly. 

“Thanks,” You said. “You’re not…disappointed to have to keep trying, are you?” You couldn’t help but ask, you remembered what Hange told you but you wanted to hear it from him. You felt so vulnerable, all of a sudden uncertain in a way you hadn’t been before when pregnancy was a straight path from your point of view. “No. Why? Are you?” He looked at you skeptically, as if he couldn’t fathom why you’d have to ask him something like that. “No, of course not, I just thought…” you trailed off. 

Levi was staring at you with a stern expression. “Thought what?” He asked, almost challenging you to try and deride yourself in front of him. The thought of him scolding you made you realize how stupid it was to presume he didn’t want to keep fucking you. 

“Nothing. It’s just that all of this has unlocked some weird insecurities.”

He sighed. “I get it. The whole fucking thing is weird. But I swear I’ll lose my fucking mind if you don’t get it through your head that I’m not gonna be upset no matter what results you get.”

“What if we’re at this for a year?”

“Then we’ll be at it for a year. And if it still hasn’t happened then, then we’ll be at it for two.” He sounded not only utterly sincere but as if he hadn’t considered anything else. It was obvious. The two of you. 

“Thanks, Levi. I really…I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to comfort me over this. Not this soon at least. I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“Well, I’m sure you also didn’t expect to be assigned to routinely fuck your captain and get prodded like an animal by strangers. I think you can let yourself live,” He said dryly. 

You laughed. He was right. It was all new to both of you but the relief that you got, knowing it was Levi you were doing this with was beyond words. He had become essential. You couldn’t imagine having to do this with anyone else, having to keep everything to yourself and deal with it alone. You were just…really glad to have him. You hoped he felt the same way.

[peppymintdreams]

Trip Down Memory Lane

Girl this story was suppose to be uploaded weeks ago I legitimately forgot to post this one my bad 😅 so I hope you enjoy what I wrote

Luca Pearce x Mc

Luca wiped his tears, chuckling. "But you know what that means now... at some point we need to start plan a wedding…and tell everyone," he said, his nose slightly pink from crying. The proposal had left his mind spinning.

“oh yeah Luca I feel like your parents are gonna whole heartedly cry,” they said laughing holding onto Luca, trying to keep them self from falling

“Oh, my parents are gonna cry for sure, both of them,” Luca agreed, smiling at the memory. “I mean, they love you. Remember when you met them for my birthday?"

Mc burst into more laughter. “Oh, yeah! They were so sweet, and OH MY GOD, when they pulled out the baby book! That had me dead!”

Luca groaned, covering his face. “Ugh, oh god, don’t remind me. I didn't think they’d whip out the baby book. They had everything prepared like they intentionally wanted to embarrass me in front of you! And they had me read the first story I ever wrote.”

“Well, that’s what parents do! You’re acting like they’re evil just for showing you in your purest, most innocent moments as a kid.”

Luca shook his head, laughing. “I mean they're great parents, and all but they really need to read the room. Well, seeing you all laugh together was worth it. I guess I can take some embarrassment if it means all of you getting closer.” He paused.

Mc gave him a reassuring smile. “Honestly, I think it’s kind of adorable. Not everyone’s parents are so proud that they keep every little thing like your first story.” They grinned. “It’s actually kind of amazing to see how much they love you.”

"Yeah and, because I’m their only child, I’m not surprised that they save everything."

As Luca recalled more about that day, Mc's thoughts drifted down memory lane, reliving the sweet and awkward moments of meeting his parents for the first time.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon when Luca and Mc arrived at his childhood home. The warmth of the sun did little to ease the nervous flutter in Mc’s stomach. Today was Luca’s birthday. BUT it was also the day Mc was meeting Luca’s parents for the first time. Luca had tried to calm their nerves on the drive over, but even his sweet reassurances couldn’t completely settle the anxiety of meeting the people who raised the love of their life.

As they pulled up to the house, Luca turned to his partner, his soft brown eyes full of warmth.

already the nerves started to bubble up again. Luca and Mc had been dating for over a year, but this was different. Today, they were heading to Luca’s home to meet his parents for the first time.

“You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about,They’re gonna love you.” Luca said softly, squeezing their hand. Mc smiled, trying to believe him, though their palms were still clammy as they followed Luca to the front door.

Before they could answer, the front door flew open. Luca’s mom appeared with a huge grin, waving them over excitedly. “Luca! You’re here! Happy birthday my little chocolate bunny” she exclaimed, Mc barely had time to blink before Luca’s mom wrapped them in a warm hug too. “And this must be the lucky person we’ve heard so much about!”

Before they could even get a word in, Luca’s mom wrapped them in a warm embrace, immediately setting a tone of familiarity. “We’re so happy to finally meet you, Mc” she said, stepping back to beam at them.

Luca’s dad appeared in the doorway next, wiping his hands on a dish towel, his expression one of soft approval as he shook their hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the name,” he said, his voice kind and steady. “We’ve heard a lot of good things. Luca talks a lot about you, God!”

Luca blushed, glancing away with a sheepish smile. “I might’ve talked about you once or twice…”

Mc chuckled softly, face flushed a tinted pink, feeling a bit more at ease now.

“All wonderful things,” his mom beamed. “Now, come inside! We’ve been looking forward to this!”

Luca gave Mc a reassuring smile as they followed his mom inside. He greeted, walking over and shaking his son’s hand before turning to Mc. “It’s good to finally meet you,” he said with a firm handshake and a smile that was far less intimidating than expected. “It’s nice to meet you too…Mr…Pearce?” They said nervously, feeling their nerves creep in. Luca’s father let out a deep, good-natured chuckle. he said with a grin. “We’re all adults here, right? you don’t need to be so formal, you kids aren’t in highschool anymore “Also,” [Luca’s Dad’s Name] added with a playful smirk, “it might get awkward if you call me Mr. Pearce... especially if that’s what you’ll be calling my son one day, and it’ll be a part of your name.”

Mc blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what?”

[Luca’s Dad’s Name] chuckled, waving a hand. “Nothing, nothing. I’m just messing with you,” he said, laughing at their bewildered expression. “But who knows, right?” He said joking with them earning himself a good smack from his wife.

They laughed softly, a bit of the tension lifting. “Okay, [Luca’s Dad’s Name] . Sorry, just... I guess I’m a little nervous.”

The house smelled of something delicious cooking in the kitchen, and the living room was cozy, filled with framed pictures of Luca from different stages of his life. Mc’s gaze flicked from one to another: Luca in a Little bunny onesie, Luca blowing out birthday candles, Luca in his high school graduation gown.

Luca’s dad noticed their glances and chuckled. “Yep, his mom keeps every single photo.”

Luca’s mom playfully swatted him as she led them into the living room. “You should be proud of your memories,” she teased, pulling out a stack of albums from the bookshelf. “Speaking of, I thought it would be fun to show you a few of Luca’s greatest hits.”

“Oh god, Mom,” Luca groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. Mc shot him an amused look as his mom flipped through the pages, showing them baby pictures and the occasional embarrassing childhood story.

“Come sit, sit!” Luca’s mom insisted, guiding them to the couch. “Luca, honey, help your dad with the food.”

As Luca walked into the kitchen with his dad, he glanced over his shoulder at Mc. They were already deep in conversation with his mom, and he couldn’t help but smile at how easily they fit into his world.

“So,” his dad started as he pulled open the oven to check on the dishes inside, “this is the one, huh?”

Luca blushed a little, grabbing a pair of oven mitts to help. “Yeah, Dad. They’re... they’re pretty special.”

His dad gave him a knowing look, setting the tray of roasted vegetables on the counter. “You’ve always been a bit of a closed book, Luca. But ever since you’ve been with them, you’ve opened up more. It’s nice to see.”

Luca shrugged, feeling a little bashful under his father’s gaze. “They make it easy, you know? I didn’t think it would feel this... right.”

His dad chuckled softly, reaching for the carving knife. “That’s how you know it’s the real deal. When it just feels natural, like you’ve found a piece of yourself you didn’t know was missing. But then again Luca and I are going to quote that show you said they loved watching "Your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece.” He said sounding super proud of himself

Luca nodded, watching as his dad expertly carved the roast. “I think they were more nervous than I was about today,” Luca admitted. “They kept asking if you and Mom would like them.”

“And what did you say?” his dad asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

Luca laughed. “I told them not to worry. That you’d love them.”

His dad paused for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re right. We already do. But it’s more than that, Luca. Your mom and I have always wanted you to find someone who sees you for who you are. Someone who cares about you the way you deserve.” He set the knife down, turning to face Luca. “And it’s clear that they do.”

Luca felt a wave of warmth in his chest. “They really do, Dad. And I... I love them.”

His dad placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m proud of you, son. You’ve grown into someone who knows what he wants, and you’ve found someone who makes you happy. That’s all your mom and I could ever ask for.”

Luca smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad. I was worried you’d be... I don’t know, more protective.”

His dad chuckled. “Well, we are protective, of course. You’re our only child. But we trust your judgment. And seeing how happy you are, how could we not approve?”

Luca felt his heart swell with gratitude, knowing that his parents' acceptance meant everything to him. “We’ve been through a lot together already,” Luca said quietly. “I can see us being together for the long haul.”

His dad gave him a knowing smile. “Good. Hold onto that feeling. Relationships aren’t always easy, but when you find someone worth holding onto, you do whatever it takes.”

Luca nodded, feeling more certain than ever. As he glanced back at the living room, seeing Mc laughing with his mom, he knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Come on,” his dad said, patting his back. “Let’s get this food out before your mom starts telling embarrassing stories about you.”

Luca laughed, grabbing the dish of vegetables and heading back to the living room, feeling lighter and more sure of his future with every step.

As Luca disappeared into the kitchen, Mc found themselves sitting with his mom, who immediately started peppering them with questions. It wasn’t invasive, just her way of getting to know the person who had captured her son’s heart.

“This one,” his mom said, holding up a photo of Luca in a cowboy outfit, “was his favorite costume for three Halloweens in a row.”

A gasp came from the kitchen, with Luca hurdling back into the living room and looking at what photo his mom was showing them, obviously flabbergasted and embarrassed.

Luca’s partner laughed, leaning in closer. “You’re adorable,” they teased, poking him gently.

“Please don’t encourage her,” Luca muttered, cheeks red.

“Oh hush up lulu you were so cute as a baby how could I not keep everything I have of you, you were mommies precious little baby, with the chubbiest most rosiest cheeks” she said acting like she was gonna cry opening her eye and seeing a blank faced Luca

“Go back to helping your father in the kitchen she said, shooing him away again to which he obliged.

You know,” Luca’s mom said after a while, her tone softening as she looked at them, “I can tell how much Luca cares about you. The way he talks about you... you’ve really made an impression on him. He’s always been a bit reserved, but since you’ve been in his life, he’s opened up so much.”

Mc felt their heart swell at her words, a deep warmth spreading through them. “I feel the same about him,” they said quietly. “He’s... well, he’s everything to me.”

Luca’s mom smiled, her eyes glistening with a hint of emotion. “I’m so glad to hear that. He deserves someone who sees how wonderful he is.”

Just then, Luca and his dad emerged from the kitchen, carrying trays of food. Luca’s dad gave his wife a knowing look before setting the dishes down on the table. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said with a grin. “We’ve got enough food here and a big cake to feed an army.”

The meal was filled with laughter and conversation, the easy flow of warmth that comes when people are genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Luca’s parents were everything Mc had hoped they would be kind, welcoming, and clearly proud of their son. They shared stories about Luca’s childhood, much to his embarrassment, and even pulled out an old photo album, complete with baby pictures and Luca’s first attempts at writing.

“Mom, seriously?” Luca groaned as she flipped to a page where his handwriting was barely legible. “You don’t have to show them everything.”

“Oh, but it’s adorable!” his mom protested, laughing. “Look how cute you were!”

As the laughter over baby photos subsided, Luca’s mom suddenly clapped her hands together, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Actually, why don’t you read one of your first stories for us, Luca? It’s right here in the album!”

Luca’s face flushed. “Mom, no I mean, that’s… it’s so old!” he protested, glancing at his partner with a sheepish grin, almost hoping they’d help him out of this. But his parents weren’t letting him off the hook.

“Oh, come on! You were always so creative, even back then,” his dad chimed in, nudging him with a warm, encouraging smile.

With a sigh and an eye roll he couldn’t quite commit to, Luca took the crinkled piece of paper his mom held out. He cleared his throat, casting a nervous look at Mc, who met his gaze with a soft, reassuring smile. The words were scrawled in wobbly, big letters, and Luca began to read, his voice softened as he let himself sink back into the enthusiasm of his younger self.

“Once upon a time,” he started, stifling a smile, “there was a super-duper brave knight named Sir Cupcake. He was the bravest, coolest knight in ALLLL the land! Sir Cupcake had a best friend, a cat named Captain Pickles, who could talk… well, only to Sir Cupcake. Everyone else just thought he said, ‘Meow!’”

Luca’s family chuckled, and Mc’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“One day, Sir Cupcake heard about a HUGE, fire-breathing dragon that was scaring everybody! But he wasn’t scared, not even a little bit!” Luca paused, laughing. “Well… maybe a tiny bit, but he was still very brave. So he put on his shiniest armor and went to the dragon’s cave. Captain Pickles was like, ‘We got this, Sir Cupcake!’”

His family was now fully engaged, their smiles wide as Luca continued.

“Then they found the dragon, who was SUPER big and super scary, but Sir Cupcake said, ‘I’m not scared of you, Dragon!’ And the dragon was like, ‘RAWRRR!’ But Sir Cupcake just stood there, all brave and stuff, and then he realized…” Luca paused dramatically, glancing around the room, “…the dragon wasn’t mean! He was just lonely and wanted friends!”

Mc tried to stifle a giggle, but their heart swelled as they listened to the simple, pure story.

“So Sir Cupcake and Captain Pickles became friends with the dragon, and they all had a big party with, like, tons of cupcakes and a giant marshmallow cake. And then EVERYONE was happy forever! The end!”

The room fell silent for a second, then erupted in laughter and applause. Mc leaned in, brushing his arm softly. “You were adorable,” they whispered, and Luca, cheeks bright red, couldn’t help but grin. That moment sharing his childhood imagination with Mc and family felt like a memory he’d cherish forever.

Luca’s partner couldn’t help but smile as they watched Luca squirm, their heart full as they realized just how much love and care had gone into raising him. It was clear from the way his parents talked about him every story told with pride and affection that Luca had grown up in a household filled with warmth.

But the evening progressed in a way that felt almost too easy. His parents asked questions about life in London, about their partner’s work, and how they had met Luca. Each answer seemed to solidify the bond growing between them.

At one point, over dinner, Luca’s mom put her fork down and smiled. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I saw Luca this happy,” she said, looking between the two of them. “Ever since he moved to London, we’ve worried. But now that you’re in his life…” She trailed off, dabbing her eyes. “I can tell he’s found something special.”

Luca’s partner looked over at him, their heart swelling with love. “I feel the same way about him,” they said softly. “He’s… he’s everything to me.”

Luca’s dad cleared his throat, though there was no hiding the emotion in his eyes either. “We can see that,” he said gruffly. “You’re good for him. I’m glad he found someone who cares about him the way you do.”

Luca’s hand found Mc’s under the table, squeezing it gently. “Told you they’d love you,” he whispered, flashing that soft smile that had first made them fall for him.

Later, as they were preparing to leave, Luca’s mom pulled Mc aside. “Thank you,” she said quietly, hugging them once more. “Thank you for making my son so happy. He deserves someone like you in his life.”

They hugged her back, feeling a deep sense of belonging and acceptance in her words. “I promise to take care of him,” they whispered, knowing just how much Luca’s parents loved him and just how much they loved him too.

As they drove away, the sun setting on the horizon, Luca glanced over at Mc with a smile. “So… what did you think?”

“They’re wonderful,” Mc said, leaning back in their seat. “And they love you so much.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty great,” Luca said with a fond smile. “But I think their favorite person in that house tonight was you.”

Mc chuckled, feeling the warmth of that truth settle in their chest. “Maybe. But you’ll always be my favorite.”

Luca’s smile softened as he took their hand again, the quiet comfort between them settling in as they drove down the road, back toward the life they’d built together. “I’m just glad you’re part of my family now.”

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Ruined

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Bangladesh Dupree/Vole (discussed), Agatha/Gil (background) Summary: Bang has seen Vole's new look, but only now learns that the man she fell for has changed on the inside, too.

It's clearly all Gil's fault.

Ao3 link

“You ruined him!”

Gil ducks the knife automatically, but is caught enough off guard that Dupree’s foot actually manages to make contact with his jaw. He hits the ground and rolls as another knife pings off the stone floor. With an inelegant but effective twist, he’s on his feet again, but the tears in Dupree’s eyes stop him short.

“He was perfect!” Dupree wails, clutching her knife to her chest. “He was perfect and you ruined him!”

“What are you talking about?” he demands. The next knife barely misses him, and Gil is honestly not sure if Dupree is not putting her all into trying to kill him, or if her aim is affected by her crying.

It’s rather horrifying.

“Wait—Wait, are you…do you mean Vole? That was almost a year ago, why are you mad at me now?”

“Because I didn’t know until now! You made him an even bigger monster than before, but only on the outside!

"Wh—Hang on—"

“I’ve been looking all over for him! And when I finally found him, and I asked him out, do you know what he said? Do you know what he said?”

Gil silently shakes his head, mystified.

“He said he doesn’t like to kill things for fun anymore!” Dupree sobs.

Gil bursts out laughing from sheer surprise, and then immediately takes off running as Dupree hurls herself at him. He serpentines down the hallway, knives zipping past him.

Where does she keep them all? He thinks, wildly.

“Castle! Maybe you’d like to do something about the attempted murder of your lady’s consort?” he shouts at the ceiling.

‘You must know I do not.’

Gil swings around a corner, jumps up, lands on the wall, pushes off, flips over Dupree’s head and takes off back the way he came. Behind him he hears Dupree collide with and be toppled over by something metallic and heavy , but he knows it’ll only stall her.

“Agatha will be really upset.”

‘I think the young lady has a legitimate grievance against you,’ the castle says, primly.

“Oh of course you do!”

Gil makes it as far as the stairs before something hits the back of his head, hard, with a crash of breaking pottery. He goes tumbling halfway down before he manages to grab hold of the banister and stop his fall. Sprawled on the stairs, Gil looks up. Dupree stands at the top of the stairway, glaring down at him, eyes blazing through tears. She looks like she walked off the set of a particularly melodramatic penny opera.

“He was the only man I ever loved,” she says, sounding as histrionic as she looks, “and you ruined him.”

“You knew him for five minutes,” Gil points out. “You didn’t even have a conversation with him, you just listened to him rant about how much he wanted to set Europa on fire!”

“That was all I needed," she snarls.

“What is going on out here?”

Agatha and Zeetha have appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Agatha has her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. Zeetha is finding great amusement in Gil's difficulties, but what else is new.

“Dupree is mad at me because Vole is no longer a ruthless homicidal maniac.”

“Vole?” Zeetha repeats.

Agatha gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. She looks up at Dupree, wide eyed.

“You two would be perfect for each other!” she says.

“Not now! Not after Wulfenbach got done with him!” Dupree cries. “He doesn’t even want to set anything on fire anymore! He said he was tired of fighting!”

Gil watches in open mouthed astonishment as both women walk straight past him to fuss over Dupree. Agatha pulls her into a hug and Dupree sobs against her chest.

“You poor thing,” Zeetha says, with all signs of genuine compassion.

“It’s not fair!” Dupree bawls. Agatha shoots Gil a disapproving look.

“All I did was pull him out of the time stop!” Gil cries in protest. “It’s not my fault that the process put him through a personalized metaphorical hell that caused introspection leading to a changed outlook on life!”   

No one is listening.

“Come on,” Zeetha says, gently. “Let’s get some chocolate in you.”

“He’s not the only bloodthirsty, amoral monster you’ll ever meet,” Agatha reassures Dupree as they guide her down the hallway.

Gil sits up, puts his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his fists, glowering at the far wall.

“I didn’t hear anyone complaining when we used what I learned to get Tarvek out,” he grumbles.

‘I think you should be a little more sympathetic,’ the castle says. Gil chokes.

“Are you serious?”

‘I knew Vole of old,’ the castle says, and adds, mournfully, ‘Their wedding would have been a bloodbath.’

“Oh, shut up.”

[darkpoisonouslove]

Fallen Love Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Griffin wakes up alone. She sets out to bring Valtor back. A new chapter? Already? I'm as surprised as you! Today on the menu we have: panic attacks, disappearing acts, a scavenger hunt and a game of chicken, the occasional pet name and shooting to kill (...a man)*. Complete with LOTS of dialogue - to compensate for last chapter (and the first half of this one). Oh, and Griffin gets to blow something up - as a treat. Valtor will get treats when he learns to shut up. :) *metaphorically speaking Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 Read on AO3 | FFN

The lightness behind her eyelids only seemed to replicate that in her entire body. She was floating, weightless, the sheets and mattress barely palpable against her skin.

She rolled over in search of Valtor. To bring their chests together so that his breathing would move her, too. To bridge the space between them and find herself in his reach, the weight of his arm on top of her centering her into her body again. She didn't mind the reminder that she wasn't omnipresent but instead confined to her physical form that his presence against her would be.

The cold lying in bed with her instantly seared her nerves.

---

Familiar warmth enveloped her like gentle morning sunlight caressing her eyelids.

Sleep had been elusive, her mind always alert, mistrustful of her surroundings, of the pulse of heat in every surface she touched. It drove tears from her eyes like hands around her neck choking her until she failed to recognize its telltale wrongness.

She must have finally succumbed to exhaustion after countless nights of staring at the ceiling. The grief beating in her chest was still a fresh, bleeding wound. The ooze from it stuck to her fingers whenever she reached for her magic or hair.

Words lodged painfully in her throat when she pushed to swallow them back down for the sake of another peaceful moment she could spend basking in the joy bursting in her chest. Her fingers greedily soaked up the warm touch interlaced with them.

Never one to be sated, she opened her eyes in search of glacial blue ones.

The intensity of Faragonda's storm-like gaze was cutting.

The garbled noise that slipped from her lips kept ringing in her ears; it was impossible to convince herself that it didn't resemble a legitimate word when, between her teeth, it tasted just like the name burning on her lips.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Faragonda's voice was a rope plunging to the depths of the panic drowning her.

All she had to do was reach for it and the fairy would pull her out.

Griffin had to stifle the hysterical laughter carving through her chest. It was already petrifying, bloodcurdling, just as it was, echoing on the inside.

The smile on Faragonda's face was only marginally more bearable – as if she were welcoming the sun after a century-long winter when Griffin's touch could set her life aflame.

"How do you feel?" Faragonda settled for rubbing the back of Griffin's hand with her own rather than pressing a palm to her forehead, placated by Griffin's complacency. "Did you get some rest? Would you like a touch of magic to help revitalize you?"

Griffin cringed at the thought that Faragonda might have noticed her avoidance of using her own magic, or that she might have misinterpreted it.

She hurried to cover it up, "I was just thinking about looking all fresh and rested in my little solitary cell. Or even better – to be paraded out in front of your allies"–the venom she imbued in the word didn't faze Faragonda in the slightest–"for yet another very public and humiliating execution of whatever dignity I have left."

That finally landed a punch.

Faragonda had the decency to let go of her hand and look uncomfortable. "This is a tense situation for everyone but with time they'll get used to it."

They could get in line for feeling out of place. At least they were in their own home. Both of Griffin's were a smoking pile of ashes – by her own hand.

"I wouldn't care what they think of me if that didn't dictate how they treat me. They can think me a vile monster or a senseless whore."

Faragonda flinched.

Griffin pretended not to see, pretended it hadn't been her aim to jolt the fairy. "It makes no difference to me so long as they listen to what I have to say."

She was wasted on countless arguments with Marion and Oritel that only ever went one way. She was losing her mind pacing the same trail through the palace only to be met with their disregard again. She was their greatest asset. They had to put her on the battlefield, at the very least give her access to it on paper and listen to all her intimate knowledge of the enemy they had no hope of defeating. It was unthinkable that anyone could forget how closely she knew Valtor, that they could doubt it still after they had seen her perfectly match his movements in battle without even looking in his direction.

"I've asked them to-"

"You shouldn't have to!" Griffin's teeth clattered together when she redirected in the last moment to avoid biting off Faragonda's head. "You'd think their perception of me would only lend credibility to my inside information but they're ready to tear my throat out because they don't like what they hear."

Faragonda's fingers fidgeted in the sheets, "You're not exactly... encouraging a change in their attitude."

Griffin shot up.

"This wasn't a social call, Faragonda! I'm not here to make friends." The mere word tasted vile on her tongue, like poison.

She wanted them afraid of her, wanted them to see only the woman that she had been – powerful and cunning enough to be Valtor's partner. Not the wreck, who could barely get out of bed unless she was feeding on spite, on her own refusal to die, rather than on the hearty meals magically delivered to her room. She'd lived too long like that to go back to it.

She couldn't go back.

Faragonda's eyes glimmered with unshed tears, her voice just as wet with them, "This was the only safe place for you."

"We both know that's not true." The words were tight in her throat, in her chest. "Your mother would have been happy to take me in, would have secured my protection, readily used all my information."

And she could have contacted her if she'd wanted both Valtor and the Company destroyed. It was Faragonda's own fault if she couldn't reason that far.

"You dragged me here to keep an eye on me."

"I didn't-"

Griffin slapped away the hand reaching for her. "You were thinking about what you wanted. Look at you! You're sitting here like a kicked puppy that the owner abandoned at the curb."

Faragonda looked away at that, vacated the chair at Griffin's bedside but only walked further into the room, trapping herself in there, trapping them.

"I'm not the same person from your past!" If she'd learned anything from Valtor, it was how to pick the sharpest words, twist the knife in to spill the most blood and cut deep into the marrow. "How could I be after what you did? Or more accurately, what you didn't do."

Faragonda stiffened. Even with her back turned, her aura was like a concrete wall.

Griffin's skin crawled. Her tongue itched with prayers that her mother would forgive her for weaponizing her death against Faragonda of all people – as if she weren't grieving just as much, as if she hadn't lost someone just as integral to her life.

It was the only way.

It was for Faragonda's own good.

"You're right," her friend's small voice made her doubt herself, who she'd become.

If Faragonda was still the girl for whose sake she'd burn the world, how could she do anything other than let her magic spark and start the fire? How could she look through the flames for someone else's face? How could she feel anything but relief at not finding him anywhere when his very proximity would turn her own fire on her, on Faragonda, and make her the culprit of her own loss again?

"We're both different," Faragonda turned to look at her, tried to meet her halfway as always. "I just don't know how to get used to it."

"I'm sure Hagen won't mind helping you figure that out," Griffin scoffed.

She bit her tongue as soon as the words left her mouth. The bitterness would only be like honey to Faragonda, would draw her in with the implication that she was jealous, that she'd missed her.

Instead, something raw flickered over Faragonda's face. The nature of her restraint shifted–like it wasn't for Griffin's sake anymore–to make the chasm between them painful. As if Griffin had already rolled down to the bottom, scraping and cutting herself on every sharp edge and breaking her bones on the hard stone.

"Of course," Faragonda's voice was quiet to make her lean in just to hear – a trick she'd learned from her mother for delivering a fatal blow. "Anyone but you."

She paused.

Waited for a beat.

Then another one.

When the silence remained unbroken, Faragonda's magic swallowed her to leave Griffin sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the room.

She'd love to blame the way the air grew much colder against her skin on the two majesties torturing her but they wouldn't have that much backbone.

She was starting to think that wasn't such a bad thing.

---

Griffin bolted up.

The sheets fell away from her body, revealing it to the stifling morning air. Sun rays magnified by layers upon layers of glass, every speck of dust sticking to her, even the touch of her own fingers to her body, to each other – they were all like needles in her skin. The plush white carpet tickling her soles was a live wire hooked directly to her nerves.

A sharp pang of hunger sliced through all of that, a weakness in her knees, as if she'd collapse on the floor. With her bones in a heap, knees poking through her ribcage and spine – through her skull, maybe the rising nausea would subside, wouldn't have to splash acid all over her insides just to chase away the emptiness nestled there.

Her magic fired through her body like an instant poison breaking down her cells to hurl them through space in every direction. Upon collision Valtor's presence would pull them back together. The shock wave would pulverize their surroundings as if her need had taken physical form in a bid to match the heat of his being, in a bid to leave nothing that could steal his gaze away from her.

The self-satisfaction that'd waft off him with her clutching his arm like a lifeline was already cloaking her, choking her. He could very well be waiting for her behind the first corner, just far enough for her desperation to slam her into him.

She motioned her magic to map out her surroundings instead and ground her amidst them.

Valtor had deflected her question about their location more out of vanity, to revel in the mindlessness to which he'd driven her. He'd brought her here for a purpose. He wanted her to know – sooner or later. Sooner, apparently, or he would have stayed to continue unraveling her grip on reality.

The room around her was a stunning mosaic of black and green granite – a forest canopy filling the dark void of space, breathing life into the vacuum. Only the windows and cornices, shaped like strings of icicles, were made of dyamond. The reinforced with magic and harder than diamond glass made up the rest of the building almost exclusively but the last floor relied on enchanted stone both for privacy and protection.

The windows were also layered with spells capturing every ray of sunlight and keeping all the warmth inside even when they were open. From her vantage point Griffin could see light dancing over the thin crust of ice covering the famed Diaphanous Lake outside, making it impossible to see anything under the surface. The ridges of the surrounding mountains were streaked with white already to explain all the furs and wool blankets draped over the walls and floor, the chairs and armrests furnished with thick covers. Dyamond was the only planet that had a forewarning of the early winter advancing through the whole solar system, the curses unleashed too powerful to be stopped by mere light-years of space.

Flames started in the fireplace as if by her thought, confirming the nagging realization in the pit of her stomach.

Valtor was toying with her, had been all along – with all of them. He was probably watching her right now, never one to miss reaping the fruits of his labor.

Griffin didn't bother opening the closet doors inlaid with stained glass in intricate patterns. He'd never been in the habit of leaving her clothes to replace the ones he tore off her form until they were nothing more than useless scraps of fabric. Sometimes not even that much survived of her outfits.

Her magic spilled over her body conjuring a fabric that was so dark it could easily be mistaken for black. The blue only revealed itself when light hit the brocade woven in it as if it'd been dipped in stardust. The laces of her cleavage were looped around the buttons she'd stripped off Valtor's shirt the previous night. The lacing in the back was almost too rigid to allow motion – giving her no choice but to remain upright. String-like, the ends of the silver hem of her gloves threaded through slits in her sleeves like starlight spilling from the insides of her wrists.

She liked to remove every tangle from her hair herself, spending up to an hour in a nearly meditative state as the brush would quietly move through her tresses. That was when her hands weren't clammy and shaking, lacking any semblance of dexterity. Now magic was her only viable option for securing her hair into her typical braid to keep it out of her way.

She'd bet on practicality for years but combat boots simply didn't make sense without the threat of war hanging over her head. They would only take her back to the battlefield. Returning to heels was the only natural course of action. In a few days they would no longer make her head spin from just the couple inches they added to her height.

A quick spell confirmed the absence of movements or sounds outside the door.

She slipped into the empty hallway, her steps and breaths absorbed by the thick carpeting and ostentatious tapestries and curtains by the windows. She didn't have the time or inclination to spare them more than a glance as she made her way down the stairs.

She wasn't economical with her magic, using more than strictly necessary to create diversions for the few guards she sensed in her way. The air around her rippled wildly with every burst of power from her, charged as if with electricity, prickling against her skin and heating up as if it'd catch fire. Every spell she cast was a beacon giving away her position. It would be no trouble at all for Valtor to find her.

He'd located her the previous day when the atmosphere around them had been thick and loaded with deadly curses. If he'd not intercepted her yet, then he was either making a fool of her in front of the queen again or he was off-planet, using the chaos that was partially his fault to reshape the dimension to his liking.

It was no matter. He'd run along soon enough.

Griffin made a turn to find herself staring at a vaguely familiar portrait of Dyamond's previous queen hanging on the glass wall. There weren't any guards in sight to differ from last time when a pair had been posted at every three steps ensuring no one strayed from the procession. The transparent doors of the ballroom had closed behind her like a trap springing.

Being able to see everything occurring in the hallways outside, looking at a column or wall and having someone stare at her from the other side of it had been more unnerving than the threat of Lysslis poking around in her head. Dozens if not hundreds of wolves had sunk their teeth into her every word, every part of her to see if anything would tear, ready to call her a liar just because she bled the same as them. And that had been only the beginning of the evening program.

Griffin closed her eyes and forced an exhale from her lungs to kick the past out of there before it could take over her body, start breathing with the life force it was sucking out of her. All she had to do was feel for a magical essence.

In this palace not every surface was imbued with the ancient power that had created the whole universe. It made locating a magical device infinitely easier.

A potent pull compelled her towards massive glass doors overlooking hundreds–thousands–of books appearing to be floating on their dyamond shelves. With Valtor's help the queen's restoration program had been more than successful. Under the guise of retrieving Dyamond's cultural and magical heritage, she'd easily expanded her collection of tomes further than any of her predecessors could have dreamed.

Griffin pressed her palm against the door, the call of the knowledge that was at her fingertips too great to resist. Any self-respecting thief would be tempted by the unlimited arsenal of spells and incantations, potion recipes and coded secrets until they forgot themselves and any other objective they might have had.

She swore she'd be back first chance she got and hurried away.

A different magical current swirled around her once she put some distance between her and the library.

More in the style of the royal apartments, massive doors of white and purple granite guarded the ceremonial chamber. Recently renovated for the naming ceremony of Crown Princess Icy, the masonry depicted a dark purple sky raining sapphires that bloomed into a sea of flowers as soon as they touched the snow-swaddled ground. In the middle of it, two white swans, one on every gate, faced each other, bearing crowns of aquamarine drops. Silver streaked their plumage and their wings ended in sharpened white zircon.

All the gemstones decorating the doors focused the constant energy stream from the supposed centerpiece of the room. Purposely kept a nebulous concept in the eyes of the dimension, the Ice Spring remained shrouded in power and mystery, and thus the object of all manner of wild rumors and speculation.

For Griffin there was nothing of interest behind those doors. If the spring were a weapon or a defense measure, the royal family wouldn't have flaunted its existence for generations.

It was more bait. Just like the library and the vault shuddering with ancient and forbidden power.

Still, Griffin had to concede to the strategy's effectiveness. Standing in front of the vault gates made even her heart pound in her ears with awe and excitement. She, who had seen the native magic of every world, had used the rarest spells that had ever been created by the most knowledgeable and powerful beings, couldn't help herself at the buzz echoing through her bones and moving her limbs.

These gates were forged from a sturdy metal alloy, all of its components tailored to the protective spells guarding the entrance. Even that would have failed if the doors hadn't been inlaid with pieces of bone–human and animal alike from the looks of it–to contain the most destructive of the magic's effects.

Griffin had to remind herself the kind of prize she was after before she could give into curiosity and explore. The artifacts in that vault would have to impress even her if their presence was loud and palpable behind all the enchantments keeping them safe.

Flexing her fingers, she tried to draw the thrill of adrenaline deeper into her body, to her core where she could save it and come back to it when she needed the boost.

She headed into the opposite direction, listening for a whisper of magic that was out of tune with the booming cacophony she'd left behind.

The hallway she'd chosen ended abruptly in front of another dyamond door. Here, like in the other corners of the palace that weren't meant for prying eyes, the walls were composed differently. The glass was thicker and refracted the light hitting it as if it were the precious stone it was named after. It was impossible to see what was behind it but no ordinary lock was a match for her abilities.

Used as a storage room, the space was bursting with old paintings and furniture that was out of style but was too high-grade to throw out. Easily amounting to a fortune or two, none of the objects in here could be the source of the trail she'd followed. She was missing something.

Upon closer inspection, the room's proportions didn't make sense. The paintings in the back end were squished together as if the wall was pushing against them and the ceiling above had a slight curvature to it, the wooden frames braced against open air while the ones against the other walls went all the way up to the ceiling line. The pressure of a spell that was bursting at the seams threatened to pop the room like a cheap balloon.

Griffin conjured a knife. The incantation to animate it was tediously lengthy but allowed her to keep a safe distance while cutting through the glamor. Avoiding the spots where the spell was already distorting was crucial to keep from triggering an explosion.

She had to admit the security measures surpassed her expectations. Suspecting this alliance between Valtor and the queen wasn't a fragile, newly-established one of convenience didn't make it any easier to swallow the confirmation. He had laid out a trap for her and the worst thing wasn't that she'd fallen in it but rather that she hadn't been alone in her failure, that along with herself she'd dragged down-

The paintings crashed back into the wall despite the residue of the spell that whipped her in the face like a particularly violent gust of wind. Frames cracked, pieces of wood breaking off and raining on the floor, canvases folding over or straight up tearing – all to reveal another door.

The air sizzled, all the vulnerable wood and fabrics around slowly blackening and starting to shrivel as if licked by flames. Sweat beaded Griffin's forehead, ran down her back like a shiver. Her own skin turned uncomfortable, clammy and parched at the same time, burning and stretched taut but still wriggling with every tiny gasp as if it were an entity of its own. Her lips cracked despite the sleeve pressed against them and her nose. She had to turn away just to protect her watering eyes.

The growl that escaped her didn't sound like her own voice. Frustration burst through her body, unfocused and white-hot, overwhelming even the grievous heat from outside.

She marched out of the room, the two closest dyamond doors tearing off their hinges with her momentum. She turned them sideways and barricaded the hallway. They wouldn't hold but she only needed them to buy her a second to throw up her own shield.

It took her longer than she would've liked to build a sufficient charge in her palm. The battle with her mother's murderers had taken its toll on her just as much as the emotional roller coaster that had preceded it.

Her jaw clenched painfully at the thought. Her outrage simmered harder than the heat that had already begun devouring the hallway as well. She poured all of it in her own spell before launching it directly at the enchanted door.

She dropped to the floor and curled in a ball. The smaller her shield was, the stronger she could make it without wasting power. Mistakes were not an option against Valtor's spellwork.

Everything quaked. Crystal chandeliers rattled in shrill disharmony like knives in her brain. Her ears were ringing from the shock wave. The racket of furniture hitting the floor was like fists pounding at her skull.

Her heart loosened in her chest, drumming painfully against her ribcage. Her senses sharpened as the ground shook underneath her like it were about to break up into pieces and open the gateway to a pit of volcanic lava. Everything came into focus as if time was stretching around her to accommodate her, to welcome her as she sifted through every detail coming her way, dived eagerly into that flood.

She could see the cinders swirling in the air, carried by a cold breeze, could hear glass shards hitting the floor. A curtain rod crashed down. The purple drapery withered in the heat along with the carpet. Only the patch covered by her shield didn't burn.

Dyamond chunks and the occasional metal shim or mangled spring bombarded her mercilessly. Her barrier hissed every time they drummed against it and flung them back, sometimes repeatedly when some of them ricocheted off the walls.

She forced herself to wait a full minute once things appeared to settle before letting up on her shield. A quick look at her handiwork sated the bloodthirstiness churning in her belly, for now.

Digging her nails into the satisfaction rushing through her veins, Griffin took to the air. Laughter bubbled in her at the sight of the rubble lying harmlessly beneath her on the soot-covered floor.

Amidst raining ashes and smoke the grotesque crater she'd blown in the back wall of the storage room was another flux of strength through her body. A wave of her hand cleared the black, toxic plumes to let her see her prize.

The blast had pulverized the hidden alcove, only jagged edges protruding from the floor left of the dyamond. Behind that the outer wall of the palace was also damaged, hollowed out nearly all the way, daylight streaming in through the gaps and cracks in the stone. Yet, in the midst of the destruction, on an untouched pedestal lay-

Griffin lurched back as if she'd cut herself on the crystals.

Swerving abruptly mid-air, she stirred up a small vortex of ashes. Her velocity swept more of them in the air, spraying them to her sides as she rushed back into the hallway.

She forced herself to land, conserve her magic.

She'd underestimated Valtor's involvement with the security system, and his pettiness if no one had shown up to stop her yet.

Then again, she hadn't accomplished anything necessitating an urgent response. The smoking hole in the palace wall could be fixed at any time and her strategy of following the magical trails of the building had proven futile.

She needed a fresh perspective.

In the centuries since The Point of Salvation had been devised, various conjectures had been made about its location but not one based on any tangible even if flimsy evidence. If her discoveries were anything to go by, Griffin could rule out the last floor of the palace. It was closest to the royal apartments but also the first place any invaders would look for an escaped monarch and their failsafe. No, it would be at the last possible place one could expect, just like the crystal amplifier.

To think that had been a few hallways away from the ballroom the whole time. She would grind her teeth to fine dust if she didn't watch herself.

She had assumed it'd be kept near the war room on the second floor or the armory – for easy defense. While it wasn't The Point of Salvation, its creation had been not just a key moment in Dyamond's history, but also the start of another era of magic. Treating it like a shameful failure to be buried in the back of your closet–or storage room in this case–had certainly deceived others too, not just her.

To have any use for The Point of Salvation, Raina and her children would need to secure themselves safe passage to it first. Relying on the regular hallways that would be swarming with enemies during a vicious raid on the palace wasn't just stupid but suicidal. A secret emergency route was the logical conclusion.

Testing the walls for hidden passageways was useless. She'd have to start all the way back at the royal apartments and follow the whole system of corridors to her target. It'd be a waste, especially since the passageways were most probably cloaked and impossible to detect either via magic or technology. With the crystal amplifier bombarding her with the charge it was sapping away from the wake of the explosion, she wouldn't be able to sense the Dragon Fire itself if Valtor stood right beside her anyway.

If her theory was correct, then the royals could move around the palace freely, get to any part of it undisturbed. The last place anyone would expect them to try to escape to would be the most remote point of the building – the basement. It was perfect for their last line of defense.

Griffin headed to the stairway she'd passed on her way here.

Judging by the pitch-black darkness that accosted her as soon as she rounded the first corner down, the basement was empty. She had to conjure her phone from her pocket dimension to light her way.

The first trace of magic in the air raised her skin into goosebumps like the cold draft carrying from every stone hadn't managed. A device that generations of royalty had fretted over to such extremes was bound to emit a constant charge even when not in use but this was too obvious.

The magic curling around her was invasive. The air hummed with it and it burrowed into her skin as if to reach its clawed fingers underneath and hollow her out. It tugged on her own energy to pry it lose and start siphoning it away. No one could ignore such a threat to their own integrity even if they wanted to.

She turned right at the bottom of the stairs, towards the source.

Struck as if by a lightning bolt, she stopped dead in her tracks.

She couldn't take another step. Her arm shook violently, making the flashlight rove the walls, cast shadows that writhed over them like demons welcoming her. They reached for her to drag her into one of the cells where the enchantments would suffocate the rest of her powers.

Griffin stumbled back, dropped her phone. The returning darkness choked her to strangle the remaining air out of her as memories kicked her in the ribs.

Her magic hadn't been locked away, instead flooding in her hands, rushing in harrowing waves. When she'd refused to release it, it'd gathered in her fingertips, stinging hot and electrifying. Pushing on the underside of her nails, it'd twinged, burned, like someone trying to pluck them off.

Tears had streamed down her face but she hadn't reached to wipe them away. Any movement could have been catastrophic, the agonizing tickle in her nerves already unbearable.

Stopping her leg from bouncing had required inhuman strength. Her teeth had been frantically picking apart the tender inside of her cheek that'd already been a pulpy, chewed mess. Her mouth had reeked of copper; the trickle of blood over her tongue and down her throat had choked her, forced her to hold in coughing fits that'd wracked her whole body.

The guards outside her dyamond prison had stared at her without blinking as if they could have burned holes into her with their eyes alone.

She'd stared back at them. At them and not the automated laser gun pointed at her, poised to strike at the first wisp of magic she summoned.

In hindsight, the trap had been obvious. Catching wind of one of the Coven's operations wasn't unheard of in and of itself but the alleged target should have given her pause. Valtor and the Ancestral Witches would have never had use for the crystal amplifier, their power already exceeding most everyone else's. The descendants had only ever been pawns to be used and discarded as it served their masters. And if that hadn't made the bait obvious, the personal invitation from Raina to her younger daughter's birthday celebration should have given her pause.

It had all been for show. She could have walked out of her cell whenever she’d wanted and exposed Raina’s alliance with Valtor. At the cost of announcing to the world that she was untouchable, that he valued her life more than those of his allies. Unless she’d wanted to fuel the suspicions of their continuing partnership, she’d had to play along with the charade he’d set up for her.

Unknowingly, she’d become her own jailer.

The paralysis released its hold on her. Her chest expanded; her shoulders sagged with relief.

She was in no danger of repeating her mistake now.

She called the phone back into her hand. Turning away from the dungeon, she left all the loathsome memories it'd unearthed to rot in there.

Her hand wobbled without her permission upon casting light on the rest of the corridor.

Her confidence quickly seeped away as an even dozen of doors greeted her. And those were just the ones she could see. It was a given that there were several times as many down the six additional hallways that branched out from the one she was in. She could easily be standing in a maze of rooms that would take far too long to check one by one.

She would have avoided all this trouble if she'd just threatened the queen from the beginning. It would have forced Valtor to return from whatever little excursion he could have gone on. The guard would hardly be able to contain her without any assistance from him and she assumed he'd want to keep his access to the Dyamond palace if nothing else.

Raina herself was useless to him, even in her quality of being queen. She didn't add anything to his arsenal – neither political prowess and connections, nor particular intellect. Following her uncle's abdication in favor of her mother, her startling, unprecedented lack of magical ability had been a cultural shock to her people, threatening to upend the belief upon which their entire monarchy was founded – that they could make a proper ruler out of anyone. All eyes were on the young crown princess now, waiting hungrily for any sign that she wouldn't turn out just like her mother.

Another reason why Griffin had overlooked the trap that'd been set for her – she'd deemed it wasteful even for Valtor to enter such an unfavorable alliance just to spite her. The easiest way to gain all the influence and access to magic he'd want would have been to put his own heir on any throne he wished, inserted himself in any court across the dimension.

She didn't need to raise the topic to know the deep aversion with which he'd meet it. Such a permanent, personal connection to any royal bloodline would be nothing but a liability, leverage to be used against him whether by enemies or even the child's own relatives and court. It was too messy for him and his preference to keep his options open even if he rarely had cause to turn on his allies, his sharp mind letting him spin any situation to his benefit.

If it were someone else's weakness, however, he wouldn't hesitate to exploit it.

Sapphire's father and his wife had been standing next to Raina for the entirety of the celebration, proudly holding the baby. The leaders of certain planets had found the circumstances of the princess' birth scandalous but the people of Dyamond had been overjoyed – just as much as the couple of nobles. Being part of Raina's own court, they wouldn't be any use to Valtor – if he'd noticed them at all.

Things could look very differently where Icy's father was concerned. Raina had refused to divulge his identity even to her own advisors per his wish to remain anonymous. It was possible that she weren't the point of the alliance at all. It didn't make her disposable, however, if she were a means to an end.

Were she wrong and Valtor was still in the palace, tracking down Raina would likely end up leading her directly to him. The last thing she needed was for him to overpower her in front of the queen. She hated to admit it but it would be embarrassingly easy for him to do it after she'd thrown most of her magic on a wild goose chase.

No, she had to make him come to her this time.

Griffin's eyes widened; the breath got stuck in her throat. She spun around on her heel to look at the dungeon again.

She had assumed Raina had held her imprisoned in a see-through cage to let others witness her humiliation. She hadn't had the presence of mind to stop and ask herself why she wasn't the only one that had been caught in the act but had never seen the inside of the cells in the dungeon.

Every time an intruder was captured roaming through the palace, they were hauled away with the excuse that it was safer that way. The truth to it had kept her from asking another logical question – why did the palace have a functioning dungeon if it was never in use? The space could be converted into a more secure vault or at least be used for storage purposes but instead, the Dyamond monarchs had kept wasting the building's energy on enchantments canceling out magic.

Griffin marched down the path between the cells. Her own powers grew fainter, dissipating like mist on her skin but a steady stream was still running in her core like an underground river. Concentrating enough energy in a powerful charge would still allow her to cast spells. It was the confirmation she was looking for.

Running her hand over the bars of several cells proved they were all calibrated to stunt magic but not sever it completely. That served just as well for masking the active power source of the device as it did as a back door in case the royals ever ended up thrown in their own dungeon. There was no way to tell which cell their captors would choose for them so all had to be connected to the secret passageways.

Griffin flung the closest door open, another rush of energy making her dizzy. Or maybe that was just the speed at which she was moving.

The side walls would lead to the neighboring cells so Griffin made her way straight to the one across from her. Any hidden passageway would be locked behind it.

The door didn't slam shut after her as soon as she was through. If Raina wasn't alarmed yet, she had to take another look at the crater in her palace walls. It was unlikely she would have disclosed any information about her failsafe to Valtor either, at least not of her own volition. She was confident in her own security measures and Griffin couldn't wait to make her regret it.

Blood magic was her best guess. A lock defended with it couldn't be forced open with stolen blood or via a coerced hostage. It had to be done out of one's own volition or through a complex, time- and energy-consuming system of spells that corroded the integrity of any magic they came in contact with.

While she wasn't closely familiar with The Point of Salvation, she could deduce it would require maintenance, or at least a periodic check to confirm it was operational. With how paranoid the queen had been about another attempt on her kingdom's sovereign status, she had certainly inspected her insurance policy for her and her daughters' survival before inviting the enemy to her celebration. Probably even more recently before the massive destruction that was about to occur on her neighboring planet.

A person well-versed in magic would know how to remove their blood traces from a once opened lock but Raina was not a magic user. Indeed, when Griffin brought her hand next to the wall, careful to keep a distance between them, and scanned it, Raina's essence was still in there like a fingerprint left on a doorknob. All she had to do was use it like a glove to hide her own essence and deceive the spell.

Quiet fizzling filled the cell as the stones in front of her vanished to leave her staring at a dark niche hidden behind it. Stepping inside triggered another mechanism that restored the wall to its previous state before the niche opened into a claustrophobic antechamber.

Another lock requiring blood didn't slow her down much.

The vanishing granite revealed a relatively larger circular chamber. The soft glow that lit the room had no visible source. It appeared to stream through the stone itself and finally allowed her to return her phone back to her pocket dimension.

The device located in the middle of the otherwise empty chamber was nothing like she'd expected it to be. It would be comical if not for how baffling the design was.

It appeared as nothing more than a dyamond tube with a... She had to stifle a hysterical laughter at the sight of the sliding door. Having been hosted by nobility and royalty all across the dimension, she'd seen infinitely more elaborate shower stalls.

The magical current that the whole charade with the dungeon was supposed to mask was undeniably stronger in here. Palpitations moved the floor under her feet like she was standing on the back of a living, breathing beast. It was probably the source of the light as well.

A more thorough look at the composition of the device revealed the reason for its simplicity. Its power source was dug into the ground along with all the rest of its vital components. A last, desperate and rather useless effort at protecting its integrity. If any enemy made it this far, The Point of Salvation's destruction was ensured.

Still, Griffin carefully examined it for any more security measures only to come up empty-handed. It was possible the thought of a panicked, hasty child reaching their ticket to freedom and being hindered by the very system set in place to protect them had overpowered even the paranoia of the earliest generations of Dyamond royalty.

The inside of the tube was just as simplistic as the outside. Apart from the amethyst crystals lining the parts of it that didn't move, there were no controls. It powered up as soon as Griffin stepped inside and was meant for completely intuitive use, designed for the worst case scenario – having to be operable by the youngest of children.

It would be absurd then to think that Griffin wouldn't figure out how to use it.

If Valtor hadn't shown up yet, there was no point stalling. It had become tiresomely typical of him not to take her seriously and force her hand into something they'd both rather avoid.

She closed the door behind her, the airtight space instantly setting off her nerves. She could try to force a rhythm to her breathing, focus her mind on her goal, but it'd be no use. Another million years wouldn't make this next part easier.

Anticipation coiled inside and around her, familiar and dreaded. It'd been her companion for years, a constant presence in the back of her mind that squeezed around her at the very possibility of Valtor's face appearing to her. She'd been waiting for the moment when she'd fail and crawl back to him just to avoid the feeling anymore, to replace it with the wild rush of having him so near she could always reach her hand out and touch him. Then the fear that everyone else that'd grown dear to her would look at her with hatred wouldn't have mattered.

She'd been such a fool. There was nothing she wouldn't give to see them hate her, nothing she wouldn't give to see them alive.

She closed her eyes and let the image of Sylvia form in her mind. She couldn't be sure where to look for her. Her mansion would be the most logical place but she had no guarantee someone as active on the political scene as Valtor was would be home. She had to focus on the woman herself and let the amethyst crystals boost the psychic waves that were supposed to guide the rest of the process.

The walls disappeared around her, the air moving freely, spinning around her body and yet still stale on her skin. There was nothing solid under her feet; she was floating in the air despite the power surges of the device still rippling under her soles.

Her nails tried to dig into her palms through her gloves. The grayish void she found was surrounding her when she opened her eyes didn't help.

Something had gone wrong.

Her palm slapped against the sliding door of the tube despite all the empty space surrounding her. The glass slid open and the gray in front of her eyes was replaced with the familiar inside of the device and the stone chamber around it.

In all of Raina's paranoia, she couldn't have missed to make sure her last line of defense worked properly. She would have tested it, maintained it, done everything necessary to keep it operational at all times. The mistake must have been hers.

Griffin closed the door again and visualized Sylvia's face carefully behind her eyelids, imagined her voice – never loud but perfectly authoritative. She hated to admit it but Sylvia had intimidated her well into her teenage years. She'd been the epitome of everything Griffin had wanted to be – powerful, respected, feared even, and perfectly unmoved by the greatest powers of the dimension; she was one of them and more often the one that everyone else had to accommodate. Yet, she'd still hated her – not because of Sylvia's treatment of her, but because of her treatment of-

The light behind her eyelids shifted dramatically. Sunbeams hit her in the face, making her raise a hand to protect her eyes.

Her heart leaped in her throat when she opened them to find Sylvia leaning against an ornate, polished desk in a spacious room she didn't recognize. She looked disturbingly smaller than usual, her curly hair loose down her back and unbrushed. It was when she turned around that Griffin jumped back and hit the wall behind her.

Sylvia's hard, sculpted features appeared frozen in place as always. Griffin couldn't identify a single wrinkle that had appeared since she'd known the woman but her eyes were now so wet and red-rimmed. Rather than the arctic blue she was used to seeing, they looked completely ashen and gray, devoid of color. Her lower lip quivered with something unspoken but it was her hunched shoulders that would poke Griffin's eyes out. They made her look like she was trying to curl herself around a piece of her that was no longer there.

Griffin opened her mouth but instantly closed it. It only made her breathing more frantic; the irregular gasps barely kept her conscious as her vision swam, to her relief. It made it impossible to look Sylvia in the eye.

"Griffin," her voice was nothing like she remembered, soft and fragile, a distant echo of the woman she knew. "You're alive. What happened on Domino?"

She didn't sound surprised. If anyone would have reasoned Griffin had gone with Valtor, it was her. Still, Griffin couldn't decide if that was the reason for her disgust or the mention of her other enemy, the one that'd fallen, the one that should have meant nothing to her anymore.

Griffin grappled for her own voice; she wasn't sure what would be worse – for Sylvia to speak again or for her to do it.

"We... I couldn't... I-I... She's dead." She was repeating Valtor's words, had to focus on the memory of his voice, the cold, steel certainty of it carving into her chest, just to be able to utter them.

"The Ancestral Witches?"

She had to bite herself to keep from laughing. She had to bite herself to keep from screaming.

"They're gone too, but Fara-"

She swallowed, then again. If anything came out of her throat, her sanity would escape with it; she wouldn't be able to keep it down.

She couldn't sit still.

If she made one step, she'd leave the device and risk being stuck with Sylvia. She couldn't take the chance of losing her way back to Dyamond and being left only with her own magic that had crawled in the darkest, dirtiest corner of her mind and curled into a small, useless ball.

Her hands found her braid, fingers picking at her hair, pushing to force their way between the tightly held strands and pull them loose. That pain was welcome, grounded her in her body, the sting of it far more tangible than the words she forced herself to fire out while she was distracted.

"You have to find her, bury her. She deserves- Not this. So much better than this... We're certainly not the ones that will give it to her."

How had it come to this? The two of them being the ones left to remember Faragonda – the ones that had failed over and over again to see her for who she truly was, to accept her, to be there for her. This had to be a cruel joke.

"Where exactly should I look for her?"

The question echoed in Griffin's mind like a slap against tiled walls. "I-"

She'd never asked. Had never asked whether there was anything left to be buried at all. No, she would have crawled inside Valtor's ribcage if possible where the only thing that mattered was his heart – beating – for her.

He never found someone to take her place. It roused a grim satisfaction inside her to know she haunted his thoughts, too, that he could not look at another and see anything but her. He'd never taken another partner, another confidante, and any lover after her would have been subjected to brutal, merciless comparison, all of them bound to disappoint. No one would have moaned like her, uttering his name through trembling lips and clutching him closer, her magic spilling for him to kiss over it. She had ruined everyone else for him, had ruined the taste of life unless he was drinking up from her lips.

It was only fair.

"How did my daughter die, Griffin?" Sylvia's voice pierced through her skull like an icicle. "Watching you fuck her– your–mortal enemy? I'm surprised you took a break to call me and arrange her burial. How do you intend to come to her funeral? Hand in hand with her murderer?"

Griffin's fingers clawed at her throat – to open it for more oxygen or to let the blood spill out, it was impossible to tell. Maybe it was to let her soul escape, away from the razor-sharp teeth in it, tearing it apart for sick entertainment. That gleam in Sylvia's eyes...

It wasn't natural.

It wasn't her.

She was talking to an impostor.

Her spell-charged fist hit the dyamond tube around her. All it accomplished was a painful reminder of where she was.

She threw the door open and jumped out, the image of the impostor in front of her popping out of existence like it was nothing more than an ephemeral soap bubble.

She couldn't wrap her mind around any of it.

Sylvia would never be so crude about it. The subtlety of her words always made them that much more brutal. She would have circled around her, Valtor's name hanging heavy in the air like a guillotine that only nicked her flesh, each cut skin-deep. It would have been the itch that would have made Griffin herself reach to tear them open, swallowing her own tears and begging for mercy.

Sylvia would have known that sticking her fingers in Griffin's wounds would only make her retreat to lick them closed – directly into Valtor's arms. He was the only one she could bear to hold her, the only one she hadn't betrayed, at least not worse than he'd betrayed her.

There was only one person who'd know how to hijack the signal of The Point of Salvation, to manipulate it.

She'd been talking to none other than the queen of Dyamond herself, had once again fallen into the trap Raina had set out for her. She could have easily made her way to the device after the explosion that had shaken the whole palace while Griffin had been wracking her brain trying to find it.

It wasn't right. She had no magic...

Valtor did. Had an excess of it to give away.

A volatile charge made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, as if the air had filled with static electricity.

She whipped around and nearly slammed into his chest, their faces mere inches apart. His quick spell steadied her just in time.

It was a miracle his proximity didn't singe the hair right off her body. Only his intent rendered the sizzling aura around him harmless to her.

She refused to move. He'd been the one to decide the current distance between them didn't work. He'd have to bridge or broaden it.

This close to him, she could only take in separate, little fragments of his appearance – the ruffles of his shirt, completely identical to the one she'd destroyed, his unmoving throat clearly implying he found nothing to correct in their current position, his blond locks falling about his face as if he'd just stepped off the set of a hair product commercial.

His power had settled into his skin again to leave the stage all to his flawless composure. His posture was always that of someone who owned the whole world as if his height alone weren't imposing. Now it was too stiff, his shoulders pinned back to mask the restlessness that shadowed his every movement, looking for an opening to possess his muscles and ruin his carefully crafted image. It was why his gaze was trained on one single spot, perfectly poised to meet hers once she looked him in the eyes.

He had been on the hunt. The only thing that had his blood boiling beyond his control was an unfinished business, especially when he was chasing someone. Someone that wasn't her.

An ugly thing rose in her chest, hissed like a snake that'd been crushed under someone's boot, maimed but still surviving. She had to restrain herself from attacking him, latching to his mouth until he was too busy mapping out her body with his hands and kisses to remember anyone else existed.

Because she was staring so intently at his lips, she saw the sigh leaving them in a grand performance.

"I was hoping this all could be avoided. Yet, I come back to find that you've already provoked our hostess," he pressed his fingers into his temple, the image of a tortured diplomat. "I reasoned that you'd at least behave yourself long enough for me to return, if you noticed my absence at all."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Griffin seethed despite her best efforts.

"I suppose not. After all, you exhausted all this magic for absolutely no reason at all. But you can take comfort in the assurance that all my efforts were invested in a posthaste return to you, starlight," he abandoned his theatrics to take her hand, his fingers twisting the silver strings of her glove around them to tie her to him.

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Whatever power her scowl might have had was demolished by the tremble of her lips at the sound of the endearment. Heat was rising in her sides–apparently so if she were to judge by his smirk–as if he were a sun nestled inside her chest. His response to her ironic "sunshine" never failed to disarm her. Of course, he wouldn't hesitate to use it now.

She could play his game.

"Why, I find the discovery I made to be more than worth it, wouldn't you agree?" Griffin looked over her shoulder at The Point of Salvation. "You can reach any part of the dimension, find anyone you're looking for."

It was better that she didn't draw his attention back to whom specifically she'd been trying to contact but she could always remind him there were still people out there that she could go to and leave him to stew in the implications as he liked to do to her so often.

Valtor's lips tickled the shell of her ear insistently, demanding that she spare no thought to anything but him, "Were you going to hunt me down, dearest? Come join me in my affairs?"

The moment she raised her hand to slap him, he'd snatch her wrist and pull her glove off, bring her fingers to his lips. All her rage, her indignation and her resolve would slip right between them and she'd fall into his bed again, without a single thought spared on how she'd be setting herself up for a repeat of events.

"I must admit that your devotion to bringing me back here is immensely flattering," he cupped her cheek and turned her face towards him again.

Griffin had to bite back a grin at how quickly his patience unraveled the moment his ego took over. It would cut that much deeper when he realized he'd set himself up for the crushing blow.

"Oh," her eyes widened to accompany the exaggerated way her lips shaped the sound, "I rather thought that since you were out there taking care of your affairs, I should do the same. You see, when I found you gone-"

His lips curled around a vicious snarl, baring his teeth – involuntarily. It settled as soon as she faltered, giving the impression of capitulation.

She could already taste his magic souring, prickling into her mouth with every breath. It'd turn to knives in her flesh if she relayed to him her conversation with Raina but she'd have wrested it from his control, would have turned it on him as much as on herself.

He'd had to fight for her undivided attention for years and settle for failure when she walked away again, hand in hand with the fairy she'd returned to, the fairy that'd had everything he wanted. Just hearing her name would set him off like a bomb that would take out the entire palace, blow a crater straight through to the core of Dyamond.

Her heart shuddered in dark, delighted vindictiveness but her jaw trembled before Faragonda's name could start forming in her mouth. Her vision flickered, losing him for a moment only to find nothing else in the gray emptiness he left behind.

"We all have to make sacrifices in our line of work, regrettably," the yearning in his voice was so potent it guided her like a lighthouse in the dark.

His warmth against her skin grounded her; his face came into focus again. The back of his fingers stroked her cheek and there it was – the ice of his gaze melted for her.

"That blue looks stunning on you," his arm slid around her waist and pulled her closer, too close for him to be able to see anything other than her face.

The light around them burned brighter than it had before, making her dress shine against her skin rather than let her be lost, engulfed, in the dark fabric and the matching insides of her mind.

Valtor's lips sealed hers like fire scorching the ground, cleansing it for new sprouts to take root – a whole garden in the making.

She leaned into him, burying her hands under his coat, under his vest to clutch at his shirt. It was bathed in the heat that had long evaporated from the sheets when she'd stirred awake, sent little thrills shooting through her as if she were holding real flames in her hands and they only licked at her skin without burning her.

It wasn't enough.

She'd have to wrap herself in it to chase away the bitter taste of smoke and lies on her tongue, to be able to stomach his words again. He should have awakened her himself, lips and hands on her skin and a hunger in him that could only be sated when matched with her own. He should have trembled with sheer offense at the very possibility of her mind straying from him for a single moment, of her body–her whole being– not trembling for him.

A single kiss was just a cruel reminder that he'd failed to prioritize her.

Valtor was quick to dive in for another one as soon as she'd drawn the one gasping breath he was willing to allow her.

Her palm against his chest only earned her a second to deter him from distracting her again. "Are you sure you won't accuse me again of provoking our hostess?"

Valtor let go of her and stepped back, allowing cold to consume her when he was the warmest thing in the room, the warmest thing in existence. His gaze abandoned her as well, moved over her shoulder to The Point of Salvation behind her.

Her heart twisted. She had to clench her fists to subdue her magic, bite her lip to tame the hexes on it that would explode the dyamond tube behind her into silica dust raining over them like snow.

"As long as I remove you from her precious device, she'd be content. Though," the corner of his mouth twitched up, "I'm sure her appreciation will grow exponentially if I deign to employ a silencing spell this time."

He looked at her, an eyebrow arched delicately as if seeking her input when the moment he decided he'd had enough of this silliness, his name would be the only word left on her lips – for the whole world to hear.

Griffin suffocated the desire to get ahead of him, "Too bad for her."

"Indeed," Valtor purred, satisfied with her acquiescence. "You can see how dangerous you are to her, Griffin. You could ruin her."

He circled her casually, knowing she'd turn after him as if magnetized, his words just as much a pull on her as his presence.

"All you have to do," he motioned for the dyamond tube in front of him, "is contact the Council, warn them of her alliance with me."

Valtor turned towards her again as if he couldn't bear to leave her out of his sight, every moment his eyes weren't on her excruciating.

Delight flared in her chest rather than the appropriate fury. The craving for violence that possessed her was only directed at his clothes and the space between them.

With his hands clasped behind his back and a solemn, subservient expression on his face, he seemed to place himself at her feet. If not for the gleam in his eyes, even she could believe he was doing that rather than taunting her.

She was only useful to the Council dead. They'd always considered her Valtor's spy; a single trace of her survival would instantly renew the interplanetary hunt for her head. No information was worth more than dispensing justice and crippling any plan of his that relied on her involvement. In their eyes she was only a tool in his arsenal, the only type of weapon he wielded on the regular and with pleasure.

"They are desperate beyond reason, scrambling to find a scapegoat to take the fall for their own incompetence." Valtor moved closer, his gait that of a predator cornering his wounded dinner. "Dyamond is just the perfect candidate that they've overlooked... until someone sheds light on my patronage of the queen."

Griffin couldn't fight off the shiver quaking her. If he could do this to her with just words, he wouldn't even need his mark to ensure Raina's compliance with his every whim. It took two to keep a secret, yet she alone would suffer the consequences if hers was revealed.

She'd made her antagonism towards Domino public every day of her reign, the fallout between her and Marion an obscene spectacle for the whole dimension to witness. Pinning the blame on her would pacify the other monarchs and all concerns they'd have for the safety of their own kingdoms. A personal grudge only succeeding with the help of a now-extinct faction was much less troubling than a conquest of a universal scope that was not entirely fruitless.

"Fear drives people to excessive, extreme measures," Valtor's voice startled her like the cracking of a whip. "I gave her the means to protect herself, provided her with security to minimize the potential for rash decisions but, apparently, she still finds you intimidating. Can you really blame her?"

Griffin pursed her lips. He couldn't expect her to fall for such a sloppy attempt to get a rise out of her, could he? She weren't Raina. She deserved more effort.

"You have always been formidable, especially to someone who has only just discovered the possibilities of magic. She's but a child playing with her new toy while you with your impeccable mastery of your craft and your reputation alone, not to mention my respect for you were bound to be imposing and draw her caution. She's not foolish enough to think herself a match for you just because I looked at her twice."

When she didn't immediately crumble at his feet or lift herself on tiptoes to bestow the kiss she'd denied him before, he added, "You did also aid those who'd colonized her planet once already in a plot against her kingdom."

The effect was instant.

The words ripped through her throat like a dagger slicing it open, "The plot was against you!"

Her ragged, heavy breathing filled the room, stuffed her chest with a clawing panic.

There wasn't space inside her for the onslaught of memories, of voices screeching in her head, fighting to take over.

They will have multiple times the firepower that they do now.

No one can know what we're doing there.

What was the nature of your relationship with Valtor?

There are intruders in the palace.

Members of your court were caught in the act, or do you deny it?

I'm sorry, Griffin.

I'm sorry. I'msorryimsorryimsorry

She was choking. Her mind was unraveling not thread by thread but all at once. Her body followed, shaking-

Valtor's hand seizing her wrist pulled her to safety, into his soothing presence. His breath was a warm breeze over her face that chased away the water from her eyes. She could focus on his.

They bored into her like she was a butterfly pinned in his gaze, paralyzed and exposed, wings fluttering helplessly. "She doesn't like being collateral damage anymore than she does like being betrayed."

The one drawback of him seeing her betrayal in everything was that it was the one thing he saw when he looked at her too.

She couldn't take it back.

She'd known that when she'd left.

She'd never been prepared for it. Especially not now that she was by his side again, in his arms and the triumphant relief of their reunion was so fragile under their feet, wailing at every step and threatening to send them crashing into the rage bubbling underneath like an active volcano.

"I'm sure she'd warm up to you if you put a little effort into showing remorse," Valtor tucked an invisible lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture more a warning than an olive branch.

Something burst inside her. Not so much a dam as it was a fuse, overloaded from years and years' worth of his veiled threats and her own regrets, anticipation and the horrible, crippling anxiety of having him so near only to lose him for good.

" Fuck her!"

Valtor's eyes flashed ominously. His jaw worked – to grind to dust the words erupting from him and replace them with other, measured ones.

"Now how would that make you feel, dearest? I'd never be so careless with your feelings." He had to love the taste of her blood to always twist the knife as viciously as possible. "We wouldn't want you to blow up the rest of the palace, now would we?"

It had to bother her more. But as long as she was in his mouth, he would never learn to live without her.

It helped her keep the petulance out of her voice, "Raina was quick to run to you with all of her problems."

"Thanks to your handiwork," Valtor gave her fingers a squeeze, "a thick smoke curtain has claimed the first floor. All the ash you've trailed down the stairs hardly compares with that but was rather useful. How do you think I found you?"

Of course. She hadn't been using any of her own magic.

Judging from his words, Raina hadn't told him where to find her, had hoped he would drag her away from her hidden failsafe with his mere return. And he would have if she hadn't left him such a convenient trail to follow. So much for Raina's secret.

"I trust you can refrain from causing further destruction to our new home," Valtor continued as if she hadn't just provided him with a–grossly unneeded–advantage.

"Where are you going?" the words tumbled out before she could catch herself, her fingers flexing, forcing him to release her.

To his credit, Valtor had the decency to look annoyed rather than smirk at her. "You have created work for me, dearest. Someone has to fix all the property damage you've left in your wake."

Instead of her jaws clenching together, her mouth fell open. The hiss on its way to leave her morphed into a rush of air that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief when Valtor pressed his lips to her forehead in an unexpectedly tender kiss.

"The library is yours to explore at your discretion and so is the rest of the palace," his thumb stroked her cheek to completely offset her balance alongside the wistful look her gave her.

She had to grasp at his wrist with both hands to remain upright. She didn't miss the wave of smugness rolling off him, his eyes already dissecting every twitch of her fingers in his sleeve and the fluttering of her lashes.

She had to take him down a peg.

The look she gave him was made all the more cocky by her poorly feigned demure act, her fingers toying with the hem of his sleeve, "You're leaving me to gallivant around unsupervised?"

"You are a guest here, after all. The guest of honor," Valtor fired out in contrast with how stiff his fingers had grown on her cheek. "Do try a more amicable approach when it comes to weathering the queen's moods, won't you?"

Griffin made a show of intertwining their fingers and turning to kiss his palm despite his glove.

Then, in the most level, innocent voice she could manage, she asked, "That would mean, of course, that I could roam further than the palace grounds?"

Valtor frowned, nearly pouted at the mere mention.

"Within reason." Always one to recover quickly, he leaned in like his next words were only for her ears – a love confession to tug on her heartstrings and bind her in his orbit. "Your face is not as anonymous as it used to be. You'd be putting yourself and the queen in danger if you're noticed in the heart of her home."

Griffin pulled back to meet his eyes, "There's a simple solution to eliminate the risk to Her Majesty."

The moment she dropped his hand, his magic spiked as if she'd thrown a stone in a lake and awoken the creatures in the deep. Turning her back on him was the equivalent of pouring oil in the fire.

It burst in the room, dropped the pressure and made the air crackle with static as if they were in the middle of a storm. It clawed at her form, compelling, demanding that she turn around to look at him or it would slither inside her and make her.

It shivered in delight when small charges trickled in her fingertips. Wisps of his power gathered around her hands to urge more of hers out, coaxing, cajoling her to join him, give him everything she had.

She forced herself to ignore them and focused on picking a destination. The Point of Salvation wouldn't take her anywhere but she weren't Raina. She could do it herself.

She could swear the tiniest gasp of alarm broke through the chaos in her thoughts only for him to cover it up just as quickly.

"Where are you headed to, starlight?"

His voice was an arrow through her chest. It pierced in and out to pin her heart to the wall across from her. An excessive, underhanded attempt to keep her from leaving.

She turned to look at him, to return the favor.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably Solaria. I could use the sunshine if we are to have a... shortage of it in the next few months." She feigned contemplation, "On the other hand, no one would expect me on Magix and I haven't been on a decent book hunt in ages. I can easily think of fifteen bookshops I could tour just off the top of my head."

Valtor's expression slowly changed – from furrowed eyebrows and a storming gaze to a fond, saccharine smile, "If you do end up shopping, I trust you to surprise me with an appropriate gift, for all my assistance in your relations with the queen."

A moment of silence settled between them before her heart threatened to detonate in her chest. He could certainly hear its pounding against her ribs, trigger it with a simple gesture, a single look even. Her magic dripped too slowly into her palms to provide a real outlet. He must have taken her depleted reserves to mean hesitation.

Fine. Her absence would strike him that much harder when she disappeared – this time right in front of his eyes.

Denying him her company was her last bargaining chip. She wasn't really denying him, more like delaying him, spiting him. The power she had was so little, practically nothing, but she couldn't let go of it. He'd already robbed her of so much, even now that she was defeated, completely at his mercy.

Valtor didn't budge despite her building spell.

He could find her on the other end of the universe.

She had to count on it.

Her magic ran the length of her body like little shock waves, resounding echoes of a disaster that had already happened. She hardly heard Valtor's voice over it.

"Stay out of trouble."

His gaze easily cut through the haze taking over her, drove the air out of her lungs.

She was stuck on the cold of it – frozen in place.

The shiver running through her kicked her spell into motion.

Valtor disappeared.

Her body crumbled into the depths of her magic. The pieces of her launched through space and her mind followed in a smooth jump with none of the impact of rattling around in her physical form.

White-hot agony tore through her to split her in half – one continuing to hurtle forward and the other flung back and spat out in the stone chamber again.

She was yanked backwards, each of her atoms crushing the rest, melding them into one again. The force of it rang through her bones like she'd hit a wall.

Valtor's grip on her wrist was brutal, searing through both their gloves. There was no magic to it, only his devastating fury.

Her own power was silenced; everything around them had fallen still. The air between them was charged with unbearable tension. One hair moved by her inhale was all the friction needed for a spark, for an explosion that would char them to ash.

She didn't dare breathe. Her lungs strained, burned, but she only looked at him, waited.

He could lean in and kiss her, or he'd finally go for it and choke her.

Valtor grabbed her chin instead of her neck – as if she weren't fully gripped by him already.

The quiver of her lips drained the blood thirst from his gaze and touch, made the pressure around them crumble in shards. Her shoulders sagged along with it but her eyes never left his.

"You've never been wasteful with magic," Valtor's voice unfurled through her body, from her head to the pit of her stomach, dropping heavy in there like a sinking stone. "Don't start now."

Griffin had to catch herself when his grip disappeared. It couldn't have taken her more than a second to steady herself on her feet but he was already halfway across the chamber, standing next to the exit.

He turned to her and offered his hand, "Where would you even go?"

Anywhere.

It wouldn't make a difference. Without him by her side or at least pursuing her savagely it wouldn't matter one bit if she were walking the lush forests of Linphea teeming with plant life extinct elsewhere or infiltrating the vaults bursting with all the secrets of the black arts underneath the ruins of Spheria. It would only ever feel one way – deafening, oppressive stillness that with time only mellowed out to a dull emptiness when she was alone with her thoughts.

"I didn't want to leave. I never would have if..."

The first months after had been excruciating. The smallest of charges in her fingertips had echoed back at her tenfold, tearing at her own flesh when there'd been no answer. Uttering the simplest of spells had been a death wish, a suicide. Instead of a cautious step inching forward, it had been a fall off a half-standing bridge. Yet, you couldn't see where the stone ended until you'd dropped off.

Only when she'd met him in battle, she had started recovering with the slowness of rehabilitating a broken spine, and just because Faragonda hadn't let her do it alone.

"If what?" Valtor's voice whipped against the stone walls as if he'd seen the name written all over her in the way Faragonda had nursed her back to functionality.

He bridged the distance between them again when she didn't answer, attempted to pull it out of her with his mere presence, with the mirage of it.

Like a hound to blood, Griffin latched onto that one weakness she had forced on him.

He stalked over to her before she could take her second step back. He took her chin in his hand. The firmness of his touch echoed in her body when the hard wall met her back.

He'd teleported them just to have her cornered. A clear message to pick her words carefully but not make him wait any longer, lest he decided to take them straight from her head.

It was the perfect payback – his own strategy turned on him in retribution for his silence about her friends' demise. He had to be dying to brag about his cunning and skill in outsmarting them, taking their lives in his hands and crushing them into nothingness. But he wanted her to ask, wanted her to be complicit in the pain he got to cause her. Now she had the power to make him wonder in turn, ache for the truth, for a reason she could give him to put his mind at ease, stop it from tearing apart every little memory of her for hints and clues just to have something definitive, something tangible to explain the worst part of his life.

It didn't feel like a victory, or even like an advantage of any kind. Just another fall deeper into the pit of misery they were burying themselves in. It was a miracle they were both still breathing.

Griffin raised her hand to cup his face, her glove melting away, but Valtor swatted it away like her caress was an annoying pest.

His eyes were throwing sparks, the words shredding through his teeth, "I found no trace of you where you were supposed to greet me. I found you on enemy territory – not as a captive, but worse – as a traitor, an informant, their ally."

She couldn't help but shrink away, his vulnerability always the sharpest weapon he could aim at her throat, but his fingers under her chin held her in place for the onslaught.

"How many times have I watched you choose to walk away from me and whimper after them like a stray animal half out of its mind with starvation? Was that my fault? Did I cast you aside, shove you into their arms? Was I the one to push you away?"

The cold amidst which she'd woken flared inside her chest, spread through her body to make her frigid like a stone. If she tried to beat him over the head with his own mistakes, he'd spin it around, put the blame on her again.

The realization that she didn't care settled in her bones like a chill she couldn't shake off. As long as she could spit venom in his face in turn, it was worth getting burned by him.

Valtor forced her jaws closed, trapping her tongue between her teeth. "You were wanting for nothing. You had my respect and my trust to execute plans as you deemed fit. I offered support to any agenda you had, ensured your access to magic no other witch had been allowed to witness, let alone use for herself. Did I ever meet you with judgment for your heart's desires or any act you've committed in my name or your own? I have only ever granted you the freedom to be yourself, to speak your mind without having to bow down to people who hate your guts."

Not just her mind but her heart, her feelings for him that had been denounced as more abominable than the corpses she had created with her own ha-

Griffin bit her tongue until she tasted blood, the sharp tang of it severing her thought.

His palms were feather-light on her skin when he cupped her cheeks – as if she would set him ablaze with the mere contact between them.

His voice came out guttural, growling, like he was digging deep into his core just to get it out, "I have proven time and time again that I would give you everything, that I would stop at nothing for you, even after what you did."

His shoulders shuddered just barely, his eyes stabbing through her. His breaths were too fast and shallow, like he couldn't draw in a deeper one without flinching... like he was in pain.

Griffin swallowed her blood, the taste of it soaking her insides like there was a monster there thirsting for it, making her feral – to match him.

Calculation had played no part in his disappearing act, only self-preservation. Keeping her an arm's length away had been the only solution he'd come up with to the gnawing hunger that had ravaged them both for years. Yet his fingers pressed into her skin, hard, to erase the possibility of her existing on her own, without being marked by him. His control was slipping through the fissures running across his mask from the gut-punch that was her proximity.

A sharp inhale rattled her whole body when Valtor leaned in, lips just shy of covering hers.

"I told you, Griffin," the way he rasped her name made her weak in the knees. "I am not careless with your feelings."

She blinked and he was gone, a respectable distance away from her and perfectly composed once more, smirking at her obvious need to brace herself against the wall now that the support of his body had disappeared. She'd lost count of how many times he'd subjected her to that kind of bait-and-switch just today.

"No, I could never call you careless," she crossed her arms, leaning fully against the wall, determined not to be the first one to budge. "You invested two years in this charade of an alliance just to... irritate me."

The words were small on her tongue, tasteless.

She wouldn't give him more.

The glint in his eyes was... troubling. She'd seen it enough times not to begrudge herself for the buckling of her knees, for her nails digging into her arms in a desperate bid to hold her together.

"Oh, Griffin," Valtor crooned like he meant to soothe a scared prey animal. He was leading her like a lamb to the slaughter. "You of all people should be aware I never play on a single front. Raina has been much more useful to me than you could imagine."

The dagger landed perfectly, a sharp point straight through her chest. A confirmation that he was lying would only force it deeper, would make it hollow out her sternum as well, not just slice her flesh open.

It would be much preferable to hearing about all the alleged uses he'd had for Raina of all people.

All the time they'd spent fighting each other he'd claimed his anger had been on her behalf – partly at least. Yet, instead of gunning for the heads of those he'd insisted were beneath her, he'd sunk even lower – for the sake of rubbing her face in it.

"I am well aware," the words shook off her lips and shattered at her feet but he couldn't ignore them if he wanted to close in on her. "No one in this entire universe knows you better than I do so don't even try to play your games with me."

Valtor's lips parted like he was eating up her performance, like he only delighted in her adorable attitude.

"You wouldn't have looked at her twice if you couldn't use her to spite me," Griffin spat out to keep the words from sanding her tongue down to a pulpy mess. "If she knew even half of what I did for you, she would have fled into another fucking dimension!"

The mirth drained from his expression, replaced by a grim seriousness that would frighten away a thunderstorm. "If I wanted you jealous, I would have given you thousands to be jealous of."

Valtor slipped to the other end of the room upon the sight of her bared teeth. His pace was unhurried as he circled from afar, leaving the device between them, to separate them and hide him from her gaze, only his disembodied words flocking to her side to haunt her.

"Everyone you ever met you would hate. In your mind I would have replaced you with every – one – of them."

The force in her clenched fists would be enough to pluck every ounce of magic straight out of Raina with her bare hands. Let's see how useful she'd be when stripped down only to her own strength and abilities.

"Not every one."

Three steps and she was facing the outline of her own body in the diamond tube. Another fraction of a second was all it took for a devastating spell to pool into her fist, make her fingers shake with the power of it.

Valtor snatched her wrist before it could connect with the dyamond surface, her strength failing to eat away at his... just according to plan.

She grabbed the ruffles of his shirt to pull his face down to hers. Now he was the one that had nowhere to go.

"You like to think you do everything with class, including spiting me. You wouldn't consider most people worth it even as the face of your retribution."

Valtor tilted his head like she was finally making sense, like she was finally worth listening to.

Twisting her arm only had his grip tighten like a vise around it. Her heart unclenched and she could dismiss her spell at last.

She had to bite back her grin. "You know what I think?"

Valtor raised an eyebrow at the shift in her tone, the up-and-down stroke of her palm against his chest.

"If you'd replaced me with anyone else, you would have bragged, would have listed all the reasons why they grabbed your attention – how masterful they are with their magic, how sharp a tongue theirs is, how you had to have them because everything you want, you get."

Griffin yanked her arm again – to prove her point.

His reaction was instant; he tugged her closer, threw her off balance.

Their chests collided, her breath tickling his earlobe. Her smirk had to graze his skin a certain way to cause the shiver he couldn't disguise.

She sighed theatrically, her free hand playing with the buttons on his shirt, "And if nothing else, you would have held back for the sake of appearances."

His initial anger had shifted, melded into something different by their third-fourth meeting on the battlefield. His threats had remained just as abhorrent but he'd no longer been the catalyst bringing them into fruition. He'd burdened her with that role, had never missed a chance to remind her and her friends that she would be the Company's undoing, and her own, that one day she would wake up as if from a dream and would want to take back the problem between the two of them that she'd imagined into existence. Then she'd sacrifice anything and anyone on the alter of their love.

He wouldn't have turned around and destroyed all his work just to make her eat her heart out when he touched someone else, pretended he had forgotten the taste of her name.

"You didn't replace me with anyone," Griffin stepped back, eyes on his face but she still sensed the twitch of his free hand to snake around her and cage her to him. "You just wanted to use my imagination against me."

"And here you are!" Valtor fired out, his voice swallowing hers.

Her lungs stuttered when he let go of her instead and clasped his hands behind his back, the image of restraint. A mockery, once again.

"You've blown up a part of Raina's palace and you're in her dungeons, desperately doing everything you can to lure me back here. Jealous," he spat out as if the mere idea was poison twisting up his insides, "of a woman that you yourself said I only ever allied with to get to you."

The fury in his eyes was overflowing, so much so that they looked wet with tears.

His shoulders tensed; he was clearly fighting the impulse to grab at her, shake her, clutch her to his chest and never let go. "What could she possibly have that you don't, that I haven't given you already or shown my willingness to provide for you?"

Yes! Yes, she was getting to him. Let's see him leave her behind now.

Her satisfaction had to have shown for Valtor homed in on it with laser precision. His palm cupped the side of her neck where her telltale pulse gave him an unfair advantage.

"Any magic I have given her pales in comparison with the impressive abilities you had already developed when I first met you. I have spent years," the weight he put in that one word was a sharp contrast with the centuries he'd shouldered with but a shrug, " fighting to return you to your rightful place at my side. I had you weak with bliss in my bed and disturbing her whole palace with your screams."

"And you were gone before I woke up," Griffin fired out to stop him from kissing her, " gone to scheme with her again."

She had her finger on his trigger. All she had to do was keep pushing until he let something slip, anything that would give her a clue of his plans, of who he was after. If not that, at least spur him to continue declaring his devotion for her.

Valtor's thumb pressed into her windpipe.

The real alarm was the look in his eyes – a bottomless coldness that had her teeth chatter, froze the breath right into her lungs. It was unnatural on him, completely antithetical to his being.

"A momentary taste of your own medicine is too much, isn't it?"

Griffin shoved him back, his presence crowding her, calling back to the beginning of this farce. She was so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion draining all her willpower and any bite there might have been to her point.

"After you preferred to sit back and watch as she poked and prodded me for most intimate details about us? I have to admit that it's becoming a lot, yes," she turned away.

She was sick of talking about Raina. The mere mention of her tasted like rot in her mouth, like she was eating the corpse of him – the old Valtor she'd left behind. The man that had taken his place was more alert, more driven, eager to cross any line just to rid himself of the very memory of pain now that he'd come to know loss. He hadn't stepped in when Raina had demanded that she spill her soul in front of her entire court, had allowed it just to watch her flay herself alive and drown in her own blood.

"You were the one who chose to proceed with it, to attend the celebration at all," Valtor's comeback was quick. Too quick, too clipped.

Instead of smothering her arguments before they could form in her mind, it let her imagine he had regrets about that night as well.

A cruel irony. An ouroboros eating its tail, then failing to retch with the rest of its own body still in its mouth, they were.

"Yes, and you allowed it, planned for it even!" her voice burned in her throat, every sound inflamed and agonizing, forcing her to force it out. "You gave precedence to Raina's agenda over me, over us."

He could kill every person that'd been in that ballroom and it wouldn't even begin to make up for what he'd subjected her to.

She didn't react to his steps but his hands on her shoulders jolted her. The only magic in the touch was the one his whole being was made of and still, she couldn't shut her breath in, behind her teeth. It was drawn to him like the rest of her body leaning backwards, seeking to bridge the distance between them, to soak up the flux of power flowing from him into her.

"No, Griffin," his lips moved in her hair, tingles running from her scalp to the tips of her fingers, to her toes. "If you're jealous of the queen," he squeezed her upper arms, cutting her outburst out at the root, "then it is your own doing."

One of his palms slipped to the nape of her neck, the other tracing over her collarbones as he circled her. The hard line his mouth was set in, the penetrating look in his eyes demanded her attention the same way a complex incantation did – one misstep would be fatal.

"I have killed for you," his fingers settled in the hollow of her throat, the pressure of them delicate, subtle but making her aware of every breath, every beat of her heart. "Do I have to kill her? Is that what you want?" Valtor purred, eyes already half-lidded in lazy enjoyment.

There was no way for her to hide or mask the wild spikes in her pulse, the teeth worrying her lip to carve out some space, a moment of quiet for her to figure out his offer.

He weren't above sacrificing her dignity for the sake of his plans but he was also painfully familiar with her tendency to double down in an argument, had over three and a half years of proof. He had to know that aside from the occasional quip, making her second-guess herself wasn't a viable strategy for him, would only run the risk of exacerbating the situation.

It would have cost him nothing to sacrifice the whole world to her. Raina didn't matter more than any of his underlings had, had been just as much a means to an end, just as much bait as the notion that he would put weeks of planning towards aiding anyone but himself. Eliminating anyone–whether ally or enemy–that could steal her time and attention away from him was a foolproof way to have her all to himself. In his hands those who'd dared lay a finger on her mother wouldn't have died for their sins, but for the sake of his possessiveness. He wouldn't have hesitated if he'd found them before she had.

If she asked of him to kill a pawn he couldn't be bothered to care about, she'd prove she was just the same as him, worse even. He'd be justified in having murdered the people with whom she'd shared a roof, the people with whom she'd shared her life when she herself wanted one of countless footnotes to his schemes to be removed, erased. He could twist it all to make the gruesome fate of her friends his tribute to her, an expression of his devotion.

Griffin pulled his hand away lest it hooked a gasp from her he could interpret as a confirmation, "Maybe."

A shadow passed over his face, the barest twitch moving the corner of his mouth but he banished any disappointment away, instead giving her a knowing look and a squeeze to her fingers. "Tell me when you've decided. She's just an ally – nothing more, nothing less."

He leaned in just a tiny bit and... Oh, that was rich!

Valtor, Heir of the Ancient Coven, cast his eyes downwards and played at being a shy, insecure lover.

"Valtor..." Incredulity got the best of her and the rest of her thoughts remained stuck in her throat, tied in a knot she couldn't pick with her hand still in his.

"No one has claimed the honor of being my partner."

Her heart skipped a beat.

She licked her lips.

A scream was building in her mouth but she managed to wrestle it into coherent words, "Is that... a proposal?"

She held her breath, half expected him to laugh at her.

He wasn't quite as generous.

"Do you have the stomach for it?" His grin bared pearly-white teeth but that wasn't right. They had just been in her flesh, again and again, tearing chunks out and swallowing them just to have her crawling back to him to put her together again.

All the force she would have put in strangling him barely managed to move her lips to shape something akin to a smile.

It had been a plot, after all. Maybe not from the start. Not when he'd woken next to her and stumbled out of bed, his heart pounding in his chest not with a panic but with acute need for her that had only grown along with the distance he'd put between them.

But once he'd been out of the palace, the razor-sharp awareness that her body in his bed was a chain pulling him back, digging in his tender belly, in his throat, he had figured he could keep it at bay if he had control of it. If he chose when to yank her closer and when to strand her away, when to drag her to him on her knees, begging for the respite only his company could provide.

She couldn't win that tug of war but she could make his victory bitter, incomplete. He'd grown used to ignoring her absence but in the process, he'd forgotten how her closeness even felt – the touch of her hand, the ghost of her lips on his skin, her voice calling his name. The moment he included her in his plans, he would fail to shut her out of his mind. She would always be there even when he wasn't with her. He would not be able to escape her or vice versa – she would be his.

Griffin swallowed. "I do."

Triumph set his eyes ablaze, drew his features into something manic, something unhinged.

He had forgotten – he'd returned to hunt her down, had pulled her back as if she would have taken his heart from his chest along with her, had proclaimed his undying devotion to her – all on her cue. She had made him give in.

Why should she stop now?

"I've simply outgrown the position," she pulled her hand out of his. Chin raised, she only answered his warning glare with a challenge of her own.

The tendons in his neck bulged under the collar of his shirt from how hard he was clenching his jaw, his eyes boring holes into her face, the only sound coming out of him his heavy breathing.

For the first time since she'd known him, Valtor couldn't come into a single word.

[aikoiya]

LoZ: TotK - Sky Island Fruit

I wonder what Fire Fruit, Ice Fruit, Dazzle Fruit, & Splash Fruit taste like.

I'm pretty sure we all know that Shock Fruit tastes like lemon. No, Starry or Ghost Citrus! And I think it'd tingle on the tongue like pop rocks, but what about the rest?

For the sake of worldbuilding, I need to figure this out.

Guaranteed, Splash Fruit is juicy af. Like, watermelon juicy. Maybe it tastes like a combination of apples soaked in white grape juice & white grapes soaked in lemon juice. It's the relative shape & color of a calabash, so it has a slightly bitter edge to it & a scent of squash & coconut water. - I've sort of renamed it in my head to Calasplash.

Fire Fruit are inspired by uchuva, Chinese lantern fruits, a/o cape gooseberries, so they'd likely taste like them too. So, sweet, yet tart & tangy when ripe, but sour when not. Possibly has a flavor profile a bit like spiced mandarin oranges, tomatoes, & cherries. The fruit has a similar texture to a cherry tomato. I do also think that if you were to remove the lattice leaf protecting the fruit inside & tear the actual fruit open, the juice that'd spill out would be on fire. Just liquid fire or napalm, but edible. I remember in the Wrinkle in Time movie that Disney did (the 2004 one, not the remake), Mrs. Whatsit pries open a fig-looking fruit (I think) to spill its contents on a bundle of wood, the juice was on fire, which starts the wood on fire. That's sort of what I think it'd be like. The juice would also sizzle on your tongue but wouldn't burn. Instead, it's pleasantly hot. Not warm, hot. Like a hot bath or a hearth. - Named it Fuegochuvá.

Ice Fruit, I just learned, might be in some way inspired by the ice apple. Which, the heck?? Why am I only just learning about this mess??? But whatever; they'd likely take cues from that. So, Ice Fruit would actually be legitimately transparent to a degree. Known to be mildly sweet, often compared to the flavor of coconut. Their flesh has been described as jelly-like in consistency & biting into the center results in a burst of sugary-sweet juice. - Beyond that, I'd make them actually cold & refreshing, they are mildly sweet & per a really good suggestion I got, they'd taste like champaign grapes, but also a little bit like white grapes with a hint of Palm Fruit (as noted above). Their flesh would be gelatinous with a thin skin like a frost bubble (think a dry ice bubble used in mixology). And, because I wanna insert a tiny bit of wonder into this, you can literally do that breathing frost thing that you can do when it's really cold, but at any time of year or temperature every time you take a sip. Kids & grown-up children (gestures to oneself) would most likely love them. - Also, evidently, if you get a cooler, put any sort of small fruit inside with some dry ice for 20 minutes, then the dry ice sublimates, the fruit absorbs it, & you'll get a type of carbonated frozen fruit! I'm thinking to find one that I can use to add onto the flavor profile of the Ice Fruit. It just seems like too "cool" of an idea to pass up. Problem is, I'm not quite sure what kind of words to use to describe it in a more "literary" way yet.

For a bit more information on these IRL ice apples (Borassus flabellifer), it's a tropical fruit that grows on sugar palm trees in India. The ice apple is also known as Tadgola in Marathi & Hindi, & Nungu in Tamil. They are found inside a coconut-like fruit that grows on sugar palm trees & acts as a coolant. They are fleshy & transparent with yellowish jelly-like flesh & a slightly square-ish shape. - So, now it's Frostangola.

I'm still not sure what Dazzlefruit would taste like, though. And no clue what it's inspired by. It'd probably have a bright, light flavor, hmm?? Still no clue, but they look a little like guanabanas, so I might use that. - It's a Dazzlebana.

If anyone has any ideas, I'm all ears.

LoZ Wild Masterlist

[quotidian-oblivion]

GUYS I'M GOING THROUGH A CRISIS!

You know how I'm a fandom writer for DC, right? I have like 15+ works so far and 15+ more coming. I write exclusively for DC, right? And mainly Batfamily, right?

Can someone, please, tell me, why the fuck are my sister and her friends joining the Marvel fandom?

It's not that I'm against Marvel, I'm in that fandom too among several others, but dude-

DUDE-

MY SISTER. MY PRETEEN SISTER. IS IN THE MARVEL FANDOM. WHILE HER OLDER SISTER. WRITES DC FANFICTION.

I'm sorry I cannot accept this, where are the disowning papers? (/j)

I mean, granted, she doesn't know that I write fanfiction, but she knows that I'm into DC atm!

And her friends and her are getting together to remake Endgame. Together. What the fuckkkk. Why can't I have irl friends who dont bully me for my hyperfixationsssss 😭

No, but earlier, I revealed that I write fanfiction to my irl friends before any of them could go "Hey, what are you doing always tapping away at your laptop instead of doing work?" and then see it for themselves, and when we were out one day, I took a deep breath and said, "Okay, guys, I have to come out with something."

Them: "You're gay!"

Me: "What? No. It's something else."

Them: "What is it?"

Me: *Takes a deep breath* "I write fanfiction."

As soon as the words left my mouth, their jaws flung open and fell to the floor and one of the burst into tears.

Actually. Completely. Really. Burst. Into. Tears.

Who the fuck bursts into tears when they hear that one of their friends writes fanfiction? WHO THE FUCK. I'm gonna cryyyyy. Why? Whyyyyyyyyyy. WHY.

One of them was so shocked that she legitimately burst into fucking tears what the actual shit.

Granted, they have a history of reading bad fanfiction on wattpad, but I don't write in wattpad anymore! I write on ao3! And I don't write smut! I'm allergic to it! So tell me, why are you crying please what the fuck shit do you need a tissue what's got you crying about?

This is why you never reveal that you're a fanfic writer to a group of people who think theater kids are weird. THEY THINK. THEATER KIDS. ARE WEIRD. (the different type of weird which they hate). I'M A THEATER KID. (backstage and minor character but it still counts) GVBFILCOFHIEUKB

At least I have one (1) irl friend who doesn't think fanfiction is bad. In fact, she reads it every fucking day and openly declares it and I'm proud of her for being that brave. Coincidentally, she was also the one who introduced fanfiction to me (unintentionally, i just happened to be there when she started reading it out loud to our cabin at camp. oh God, someone ask me about the camp, I have stories). And she offered to beta read fics for me as well as work on a collaborative fic. And I have multiple online friends who beta my works and co-write stuff with me and i beta back and are just lovely + readers and commenters who actually like my fics and writing and I love them all so much. So there's that!

BUT WHY THE FUCK SHE GO AND BURST INTO FUCKING TEARS? WHAT'S SO SAD ABOUT THAT IM GONNA CRY.

[fictionplumis]

Some progress has been made!

I saw a Cardiologist yesterday and almost broke my "did not cry during a doctor's appointment" streak. (We are up to 3 now, woot!)

So basically, my heart is doing one of two things. Either it's going, "I need to emulate my hero and savior Sonic the Hedgehog," and is always beating so fast for no legitimate reason. Like with POTS. Or it's going, "Oh shit, this place is fucked, I gotta beat faster to make sure all the blood goes to the right places." This would be my heart reacting to another factor in the body and feeling like it's necessary to speed up, like if I had some underlying rheumatalogical condition.

I already knew things like POTS could really fuck up your system, and I've never been officially diagnosed but I've been pretty sure I've had it since high school, when I mentioned to my mom that I get tunnel vision everytime I stand up and she immediately took me to get an MRI. I didn't think it would make just existing doing the bare minimum to live such a hell.

Anyway, he's putting me on meds to slow my heart down. Either these meds will work and I'll feel weird for a bit and then start feeling better as my body adjusts, meaning it IS my heart deciding to go 130 BMP for funsies while I'm doing literally nothing, or the meds will work but I'll feel much, much worse because my heart does, in fact, need to go that fast because this place is fucked.

And by this place, I mean my body.

Now, he did mention working out! He explained that he would usually start treatments for something like this without medication first, but unlike the rheumatologist, he took my struggles seriously and said that since simple, daily tasks are such a struggle, and my heart rate is so high at rest, the medication needs to come first so I can get to the point that I CAN start low effort physical therapy.

He also asked if I had researched my symptoms online and if there was anything I've found or heard of that I felt matched my symptoms best, which god fucking bless dude, that's one hell of a green flag for a doctor.

The hardest part about dealing with doctors for me is that I have this defense mechanism where I am "an open book" and speak honestly and openly about my struggles, but in a very friendly and humorous tone. Like, "I'm so emotionally exhausted that I can't concentrate on much anymore. I've beaten Baldur's Gate like twelve times because I know everything that happens and it's low effort now. I'm so tired of playing Baldur's Gate, man." It's true! My tone usually implies humor and a joke, and I guess that makes people go, "Oh, things are difficult for her but she's okay enough to make light of them."

And I don't know how to not do that?

Even the nice doctors that took me "seriously" still didn't seem to quite understand the full scope of me saying, "I haven't left the house for eight months for anything but doctor's appointments. I haven't seen my friends in eight months. My family goes to eat dinner without me and brings me home lukewarm, soggy food in a takeout container. I've had to stop my sewing projects because my arm gets tired so quick holding down a sewing pattern that I can't trace around it without taking a break, and then the pattern gets misaligned and I get frustrated and start crying. I'm on antidepressants because I can't do any of my hobbies, I have nothing to distract me from this hell where simply reaching up for a cup in the cabinet feels like a herculean task, my room is a mess because I can't clean it up, and I was crying three to four times a day. Now I only cry once or twice a week. I am scared, and lonely, and everyone in my house works full time so it's hard for them to help, and I try not to ask them for much. When I do need to ask for help, I often spend a few hours having an anxiety attack before working up the nerve, and if they say no, I feel guilty for immediately bursting into tears over it and making them feel bad about it. My hair looks awful because I usually keep it short but I can't go through the effort of getting dressed and leaving the house for a haircut, so I took a pair of scissors to it in a Britney Spears style meltdown and you know what? She had the right idea!"

I guess something in my tone just implies hyperbole? Or maybe I don't come across as distressed enough while saying it, so they think it can't be possibly be this awful, life-ruining thing? Unfortunately, breaking down crying doesn't convince them either, I've tried that already. So IDK how to get doctors to understand what I'm feeling.

This guy, though?

I front of his two student shadows, this motherfucker, who is the softest spoken person I've ever met, by the way, leans over his knees and looks me dead in the eye to say, "I want you to know that you're an amazing person. I can't imagine the kind of strength it takes to deal with this for as long as you have with no answers, and still be pushing yourself to come to appointments like this when everything is so difficult for you. If this is cardiac related, I want you to know that we're going to figure this out and get you back out there in the world. At your age, you should be out with your friends, having fun and living your life, not isolated and struggling like this. Do you have a support group? Who all is in it?"

Man. There is something about sincere compassion and genuine concern that hits right to the core, and I could barely keep myself from bursting into tears.

For all my jaded bullshit with the doctors and the American medical system, sometimes you end up finding a gem.

So either these new pills will work and in the next couple of months I can start a long path to recovery, or they won't but I'll be able to tell every other specialist I see that we 100% know my fast heart rate is a symptom of something else, not everything else being a symptom of a cardiac issue.

[fadedelegance]

Hey, look, it’s the reasons I’m quitting my job!

Let me get into what it’s been like working for this financial institution while neurodivergent.

My boss has been a complete twat to me, and that is the only reason I can think of why. One time when I had a social gaffe, she acted like I cussed someone out or said something racist, something legitimately awful like that, when all I did was talk too loudly. When she called me into her office, she said, “Do you want to tell me what you were thinking when you said that?” I felt so ashamed and embarrassed that I burst into tears and had to leave early. What fucking right did she have to make me feel that way when I had no ill intent and didn’t insult anyone on purpose or accidentally?

About 9 months ago, she wrote me up because a coworker completely misunderstood something I said and told her manager she didn’t want to work with me anymore—even though we’d worked together dozens of times without any problems. She was actually one of my favorite people to work with, and we both suffer from anxiety, so we understood that about each other. I was telling her about some anxious thoughts I was having about work, and she thought I was accusing her of causing it, when that wasn’t the case at all. My manager just presented me with the write up and told me why it was happening, right then and there. I was given no forewarning whatsoever—no chance to apologize to that coworker to her face, no chance to tell my side to anyone. Everything was done behind my back because apparently managers being passive-aggressive is perfectly normal and not at all petty and unprofessional. 🙃🙃🙃 That was also my second write up within a month, which led me to believe that this was an attempt at constructive termination. (The first write up I got was for not following a rule that I didn’t even know was a rule. And I didn’t even remember what I did that would have constituted breaking that rule. But yes, just escalate it to a write up. Don’t take the time to explain to me that that’s a rule, and here was how I broke it, and give me the verbal warning not do it again. Just immediately escalate it to a write up. Because that’s fair and makes sense.🙃)

I suspect the reason I wasn’t allowed to train on opening new accounts is because she thinks I’m too socially awkward to be in public, which isn’t at all true. I may be on the spectrum, but there are customers who always come to me when they stop by. I had great rapport with the regulars at my previous job. But no, just ask the bully I work for: I’m horribly socially inept and shouldn’t be unleashed upon the poor, unsuspecting public.

She has made me feel like I don’t belong and don’t fit in and like there’s something seriously fucked up and offensive about me. I have never truly understood what her problem with me is, so that’s all I can think of: she thinks I’m repulsive for being autistic. Of course, she can’t say that because that’s illegal. But she’s immature, unprofessional, and petty enough that that probably is the reason why.

The last straw for me was yesterday morning when she yelled at me in front of a branch full of customers, while I was in the middle of helping a customer myself. I could tell by the customer’s demeanor after that that she thought she got me in trouble and was inconveniencing us somehow. It was sad because she was a really nice lady. I made sure to reassure her that she was just fine and hadn’t done anything wrong. I could also sense that she felt secondhand embarrassment. I know that if I had said that my boss had just made an ass of herself, she would’ve agreed with me. I actually felt worse for that customer than I did for myself. I felt embarrassed in front of her, too, because I was working and therefore representing the organization just like my boss. I felt embarrassed on behalf of our organization. 

This is not an exaggeration: out of all the jobs I’ve had over the years, I have never been treated this way by an employer. And, of course, they pay lip service to diversity and inclusion, which, in my experience, is a complete joke. They’re fine with a bisexual woman working for them as long as she’s not autistic. 

I typed up my two weeks notice yesterday. We’re off on Monday because we’re closed for Memorial Day, so I will be submitting that two weeks notice on Tuesday. This job has caused me more severe anxiety then the pandemic did when I was in my previous job. I can’t keep living like this. She crossed a line by trying to humiliate me in front of a room full of people, so that’s why I decided that I’m going to quit. I don’t have another job lined up at the moment, but I have a whole list of places to apply to. I’m also trying to see if I can’t get my previous job back. I enjoyed being a Barista, and I was good at it.

I’m terrified about not having steady income for a little while, and not knowing when I’ll get a new job, but like I said, my anxiety has been so bad over the past 14 or 15 months, that I can’t keep living like this. If you don’t have your health—mental, physical, social (and spiritual, if that’s your thing)—what the fuck do you have?

[flower-zombie-rob]

Hello flowers! Just gotta tell you something.

You are one of my favorite artists on tumblr, i enjoy seeing any art you post while joining on the chaos without feeling like im being too weird and it's a lot of fun when this blog just bursts into chaos and seeing you have a good time out of this and question all of the anon's sanity is very enjoyable. I hope you continue to make art and chaos!

I have a very similar sentiment myself!!!

As someone who definitly had a hard time coming to terms with niche intrests and still struggles a lot with self confidence off the internet, its been really nice and fun to meet so many funny and likeminded people. Not only that, but getting the chance to chat and be mutuals and friends with creators who are really huge and talented in this community has been amazing, its even lead to me meeting some irl! I really feel like im kind of known in the jse fandom(on tumblr at least) and its lead me to this feeling of creating my own follower community. I feel like ive tried hard to make my blog a safe space for people like me (or who were like me when i was a younger user). I dont like to tear people down or call them cringe(unless they do something legitimately that makes me uncomfortable) because the chaos is fun and quirky and its a thing i feel my blog embodies that other bigger jse blogs cant or dont. My cutesy art style serves as a way to welcome people to my blog, but i love the dynamics i get to form between you guys and the fact that youre always so open with my in my ask box and dms is really sweet and makes me feel like ive really gathered a kind and sweet collection of people who now get to meet and interract with each other through my blog as a platform, encouraging them to interract with others more too. I love you guys snd this friendly and supporting mini-community we've made around my blog and i hope it stays like that because this blog really is safe for anyone from all walks of life to enjoy if they want to without fear of judgement.

Just dont be getting all parasocial on me guys thats the only thing im affraid of with this little vibe we have. Remember you dont know me and i dont know you so dont blindly follow and agree with me on everything and definitly dont confide in me as this therapust friend for venting and traumadumping and such. But i havent had that happen too often due to how dearly you all respect me and i respect you all the same!

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 202 Rundown

Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture: We start out with a cold open of CC and Lelouch in a place that looks remarkably like Ahch To from the Force Awakens, guess they’re off in the land of banished original series characters with Luke Skywalker, doesn’t really tell us much except ‘hey shit’s happening’ and I still haven’t seen Resurrection so idk how that’s even possible and I’m kind of ideologically opposed to resurrecting Lelouch especially if he’s just here to be an emotionless guide like CC. Meanwhile Cornelia meets with the other Black Knights and turns out THE DAMOCLES AND FLEJA ARE STILL AROUND!? I thought the first objective of destroying Lelouch’s reign of terror would be dismantling the giant nuke satellite that nearly plunged the world into Authoritarian Terror but that’s just me. While everyone’s debating whether Fake Sakuya will have a Britanian or Japanese allegiance, Rozé shows them the evidence that Sakuya is a figurehead and while she won’t be of much help to the cause as Empress, their real enemy is the Char Aznable knockoff pulling the strings. The new Knights flush the remnants of the other resistance groups towards the Seven Stars so they have no choice but to join forces in an uneasy alliance, planning to use their bickering and the Fleija to wipe them all out at once. Rozé finally decides that purple-haired girl will be the ace pilot since the machine will bring out her hidden strength but none of these side characters have been developed enough for me to particularly care about that decision, personally I was just rooting for Discount Alexis Rhodes because titites. Nina arrives to show off the new Anti-Fleija tech which makes it so they don’t have to do Lelouch’s insane typing shit anymore and they just have to get it within 100 meters which they still say is really hard but considering Lelouch did noclip speedrunner frame perfect typing to do it the first time this is a hell of a lot easier. I’m kind of on the fence about Nina like I like that she’s doing her best to help but I feel like the pace of the show doesn’t really let her explore her feelings about it because they just have her burst into tears at the drop of a hat about all the blood on her hands, with as much time has passed I feel like she should be on a more solemn quiet determination route and not just bawling every time she thinks about it but I’m not the trauma police. Britannia reveals its goal of bombing the same ghetto for like the third time and keeping the Japanese inside in the most telegraphed trap in the world but hey, gotta beat the Nuke Satellite sometime so might as well. This is legitimately the same thing they did when they found out Ohgi’s group came from there before except they didn’t announce it so everyone just died, like is there even anyone left in that area?

Ranma ½: It’s time for another arc and after Pig!Ryoga is left in an ice skating ring he gets abducted by a bratty figure skating pair who quickly get on Akane and Ranma’s respective bad sides and apparently you can just slap martial arts into anything because they’re also ice skating martial artists and prove it by doing a 100-man Kumite (whacha wah). Only problem is Ranma doesn’t know how to skate so he turns into a girl to try and learn since he’s more comfortable being clumsy without his toxic masculinity getting in the way. And this just makes me wonder shouldn’t he turn into a girl as soon as he falls on the ice and his body heat melts some of it? How much water is needed to transform him because it’s probably a thin layer but it’s across several points of his body but he also obviously doesn’t work when he sweats or cries or anything so they say he has to be “splashed” with water to transform, does the splashing motion actually contribute something, does it have to be enough water to make a splash? Either way the guy figure skater hits on Girl!Ranma and Ranma ends up joining Naruto and Sasuke in the club of having a quirky technically gay first kiss. Was figure skating really this big in the nineties because Sailor Moon did an episode basically exactly like this, I guess that was around the time of the whole Tonya Harding thing so maybe? Either way Ranma and skater boi fight and even though Ranma can’t skate he still gets enough hits in to knock the guy out while getting tossed around. Akane and Ranma do have a nice little heart to heart about kissing and almost kiss before quirky shenanigans ensue, it goes to show they’ve advanced from genuinely begrudging allies to more deep into awkward tsundere territory.

Arcane: It’s timeskip time, apparently about seven years or so is all the time Piltover needs to basically use instant transmission to warp shit across the globe in what I can assume the gates from Cowboy Bebop were supposed to look like before they fucking exploded, but I’m sure the radical technology all the wise old elders are worried about will not cause any devastating problems and everything will be fine because that’s how these series work. Jayce has gone from guy everyone wants locked in his room to the new Steve Jobs ready to give a speech about the new Hexphone 7, Cait has gone from basically not existing narratively to cool CSI lady and I am enjoying her greatly, and Jinx is… ummm doing kinda rough. Like she’s gotten a lot better at fighting and has fallen into her Harley Quinn archetype pretty well complete with awkwardly intimate connection to her boss but she’s also gone full Gollum when talking to herself and botches a hijacking when someone reminds her of a much less jacked Vi. Either way Jayce has made NEW orbs of destruction that are less explody and more powerful than the old crystallized nitroglycerin and Professor Porg gives a projected estimate that reflects his Yoda-like lifespan which doesn’t exactly sit well with him despite there clearly being some bugs, like maybe split the difference and go with a two year rollout instead of ten years, like it took SEVEN years from creating the shit to making the whole city run on magic wifi so I think upgrading to the next model shouldn’t take more than half that. In the end though Jayce does agree to not unveil the new super orbs even though if video games have taught us anything it’s that you can reveal a number floating in space and say “comes out whenever” and people will still be hyped, you’d think a video game property of all things would know that. Still Jinx’s daddy issues get the better of her and she blows up the place containing the new shit and steals them just like she did before, murdering dozens of people in the process. Jayce’s reaction to tis is so humble and reserved they promote him on the spot given he is kind of the science guy that has the workings of all the shit their city runs on so that’s probably fair. Cait’s caught up in the explosion and it only redoubles everyone around her trying to put her in a lame duck job where she won’t actually do anything despite her being the cop trope of “I GOTTA BE ON THE BEAT, ON THE STREETS BRO THE STREEEETS!” and given that Jinx has literally painted her calling card all over all of her shit, she’s able to follow the trail and go visit the guy they captured from the botched robbery only to find Prison Vi has already beaten the shit out of him and is currently sexily punching shit in a jail cell as you do.

Dandadan: Now that things with the Silky are cleared up, Aira still thinks everyone involved are demons but has fallen in love with Okarun and thinks she’s in Inuyasha and vows to wrest control of him from Momo. Meanwhile they also play baseball to get him his first ball back but are quickly out of leads on the second. Okarun makes excuses to get out of hanging with Momo because he wants to do his Deku nerd to jock transformation as quickly as possible and unfortunately ends up in a falling on top of Aira situation when she wants to reenact porn with him. Momo sees this at JUST the wrong time and ends up getting pissy about it despite not actually being in a relationship with him yet, though it’s understandable she is also mad he lied to her and even though Okarun doesn’t get to explain he at least admits that part was wrong but it doesn’t change much except flipping the ‘train more’ switch in his brain. While experimenting on Super Shrimp, Momo, Okarun and Aira are all transported to a pocket dimension of the school where the water’s about ankle deep and rising, Momo getting stalked by a Nessy that’s firin’ its lazor and the other two combating a boxing shrimp and the Pixie Aliens from before, convinced of the worth of Okarun’s dick because of his transformation. Just when they have him on the ropes, Aira activates her own Silky transformation and is ready to combine skillful acrobatics with her own unique brand of sociopathy to save the day.

Gleipnir: The gang find Shuuichi and Chihro out in the woods and it’s quickly obvious Shuuichi doesn’t remember going all Hollow but Chihiro does, and there are several blank patches in Shuuichi’s past regarding Claire��s sister and their friend group that only become more obvious the more people he talks to from Sayaka’s group. Claire confronts Chihiro about it but she’s kinda cold and just tells her that since they work more like a ying and yang than being on the same wavelength they’ll never be able to transform like that. Claire brings a lot of her sexual baggage into this exchange and says some weird stuff but I’m kind of used to that from this show by now. Shuuichi is slowly coming to terms with the fact that between his powers not fitting his personality and now the new transformation, he’s not someone with superpowers but someone to be used as a superpower by others, he’s basically a projection board for anyone he can sync up with and that’s kind of a neat angle on it, like I don’t expect it to actually play out with anybody except a handful of the hot girls of the show because of the sexual metaphor he’s not gonna be doing it with any of the dudes but it is a mildly interesting angle to take it on. Chihiro calls Claire’s sister because… she didn’t change phones after joining Organization XIII I guess, like she said she never even gave Claire her number but Chihiro got the number from Shuuichi’s memories so anyone who had the number, few and far between they may be, still has it. You’d think the first thing you’d do after becoming a domestic terrorist would be get a burner phone but okay. Chihiro tells her about the blanks in Shuuichi’s memories and believes she’s the one he needs to combine with in order to be complete and I was just kidding with the Organization XIII stuff but this did get all Kingdom Hearts very quickly. She says she’s gone full villain now so she’s not going to hesitate to kill even him now which I highly doubt given she basically creamed herself the first time they saw each other and saved him the last time so it’s pretty doubtful she’ll be kill on sight this time regardless of how she fronts to the Organization.

Trigun: Vash kinda walks right in on a hostage situation because he has his airpods in and as always it’s hard to tell how much is cloaked instinct and how much is dumb luck with Vash. The mayor’s daughter is the main hostage while Milly and Meryl are along for the ride as always. They send in a bunch of psycho mercenaries who shoot first and ask questions later but Vash takes them out while notably not shooting them and Milly gets to fire her claw gatling gun thing and it’s really pretty cool. It’s always really hard to do gun anime with a pacifist protagonist but if Lycoris Recoil can do it then Trigun can do it, and at least Milly says she’s glad he didn’t shoot too. The head robber reveals he just wants to hurt the mayor since he killed everyone who built the town after taking over so he had sole rights to the place and his daughter’s mostly an innocent spoiled child in all this. Vash negotiates the demands and the robber gets to draw on the mayor to get his revenge but both he and the sheriff note he’s not the same man anymore and time and love for his daughter have changed him and orphaning a girl as revenge for being orphaned isn’t right, so he lets him off with a shot in the shoulder. The sheriff tries to turn this into a police escalation case and Meryl reveals she’s fucking STRAPPED with dozens of noisy cricket sized guns and disarms everyone so Vash can gloat over the sherrif about love and peace and how this was all solved without bloodshed. Good episode, I like that we finally have Milly and Meryl’s skillsets set up and that they too are designed for non-lethal gunplay probably even better so than Vash’s weapons, starting to lean more into the themes of pacifism despite an unjust world and I’m enjoying it.

Revolutionary Girl Utena: So Juri’s old crush Shiori is back at the school and keeps trying to make up with her, with Utena even telling Juri to forgive her since she did that thing where she sits in the girl’s room and talks and now they’re friends forever. Meanwhile Nanami has taken over for Touga and actually starts investigating the whole ‘Miki got a sword yanked out of him’ case two episodes too late but to be fair last episode she was busy being a cow. Juri finally tells Shiori she’s not mad about the boy because she never liked him anyway, no one knows that it’s actually Shiori Juri loved. With this reintroduction, Juri’s pain is too much to bear and she tosses her locket with Shiori’s picture into the lake, only for it to mysteriously show up on Shiori’s desk still wet from the lake. And then we get to what’s probably my favorite Interview sequence so far, so Shiori is FUCKED FUCKED, since Juri was the talented and strong one that always protected her, she wanted to take the love of someone she perceived she liked to equal their dynamic by being better than her at something, but now that she knows it’s herself that Juri loves, she holds Juri’s heart in the palm of her hand with all the sadistic glee that entails. Now instead of hurting her by stealing something away from her, she can hurt her just by existing because she is Juri’s most precious thing and that gets Shiori off HARD, it’s unclear how much of this is true and how much is the black rose’s manipulation but it’s kind of unsettling to watch as she takes pleasure in making Juri’s stoic demeanor crack and making her vulnerable and in pain. She gets the sword out of Juri and fights Utena and you know how that goes, blah blah absosulte destiny apocalypse, gold-plated Shangri-la, Dios Thrust. Shiori and Juri recover and are at least on speaking terms but not as close as before and Juri can’t bring herself to cut Shiori off and their toxic-ass relationship is free to continue another day and I am kinda here for it.

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 47 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

My body pulses with adrenaline as I burst into the room.

"Lucien," I exclaim, tearing up at the sight of him sitting up in the bed, leaning weakly back against the mountain of pillows Wren and I arranged for him.

I haven't seen him with his eyes open in so long.

He cracks a smile.

"There you are," I break out into a sob, running to him and practically collapsing on him as I bury him in a hug.

"Lucien..." I cry, sniveling into his rumpled hospital gown.

He pats my back, chuckling.

"Easy on the hugs, my boy. Tristan's got me plugged with all types of wires."

I jolt off of him, remembering his less-than-ideal state and sniffle as I apologize.

"S-So you know about everything? About what's happened with Theo?" I ask.

A grave look comes to his face as he nods.

"Yes, Tristan informed me. I apologize deeply for what Theo did. I didn't think... I had more faith in my son than I should have. Him poisoning me to become the Pack Alpha isn't something I ever thought would happen. Goes to show how blinded you can be when it comes to your children."

"I-It's not your fault," I shake my head.

"He never showed you... his other side."

"Ah, he was good at hiding it, wasn't he?" Lucien sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yeah..." I trail off, wanting to ask and say so many things all at once but I don't know where to start.

So I just say...

"Why did you want to speak with me?"

Lucien leans back into the pillows with a small grunt, folding his hands together.

"Yes, where do I start?" he thinks for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. "Do you want to know the real reason I kept you here in my pack?"

"W-what?" I thought it was because he didn't want me to return to Dark Moon.

"I know what you're thinking. That I kept you because a wolf from Dark Moon would be a breach of pack security and that I needed to keep an eye on you. I'm surprised you and Daemon actually believed that," he laughs. "I could have sent you to a different pack to be housed and cared for. I didn't have to take the risk of taking in an enemy. It was a dangerous bargain, what I did."

I sit there quietly, confused.

"Then what was the real reason..?"

"I knew you were Daemon's mate."

'My eyes widen. What?'

"But how?" I question.

Lucien's eyes twinkle in mystery.

"Hmm, Alphas intuition, you could call it," he smiles.

I raise a questioning eyebrow at him and he chuckles again.

"Just kidding. Hmm... I don't think I ever told you this but my mate, my Luna, was very talented. She had abilities that allowed her to... see things, passed down from her mother's side. That's actually the reason we met. Young dumb nineteen-year-old me was brought along to her family's shop, which was esteemed for their 'visions', said to come to them through the power of the moon. I thought it was BS, quite frankly but my mother loved to get his spiritual readings done there. That's when I saw my beautiful Rose for the first time, the shop owner's daughter who was hiding behind the bookshelves, watching me shyly as I waited for my mother." he smiles to himself, eyes looking far off, happy to reminisce the good old days.

"The rest was history, of course. She was happy to become my Luna. She also proved to me that these 'visions' that she and her family had were legitimate, not the BS I had previously thought them to be. Her gift of sight helped us greatly as we gained power and took over the roles of my parents," he takes a deep breath.

"When we first found Daemon, not long after she had a vision. It wasn't very clear but... she saw a snapshot of Daemon's future. He was older, a man, almost unrecognizable from how huge he'd grown. But what piqued Rose's curiosity the most was that he was carrying a small white wolf in from the forest. Holding that wolf close to his chest, like it meant everything to him. We knew it must be his mate."

I'm stunned.

Too stunned to even wrap my head around this. Is that what Theo was referring to when he said I was his mother's 'gift'?

That I was sent by Rose, somehow?

"It was worrying to me, this vision. I knew there had to be a reason why it came to Rose because her visions were selective. They also didn't show us everything or give much detail. But she calmed my fears and told me that love would overcome everything."

I look down, my heart tight.

But how does he know Rose was right?

I mean, Daemon completely abandoned me just few months ago.

How could that be...?

"I know there are a lot of thoughts clouding your mind right now, Ash. But I will explain everything, I promise. That's what I told you when you first came here, didn't I?"

And then I remember.

When I'd asked him why he was taking me in so willingly.

He'd said...

"I'm going to tell you everything soon, Ash. All in good time."

My brain feels like it's going to explode.

[hausofmamadas]

You’re a fucking genius. Whatever, I don’t even care anymore. I have nothing left in me.

═

✷ He’s probably dead, right? You probably left him to die. Shirt splattered with red, arm stretched across the concrete. Gun just out of reach.

Me at the end of the last fic skdjdjdjd not realizing there was a part 2, like there is no way that mf is still alive except when I remember your Lalo fic and how you tricked me into thinking that mf was totally alive for half the fic when it turns out he was fuckifnsjhrhreheb dead the whole time, it’s fine. I’m not concerned about the potential psychological warfare I’m wading into, nopenopenope

✷ The last you saw of him, he was alive. In control. Not scared in the slightest, as far as you could tell, so that’s what you’ll remember. What you’ll cement as fact. Alive, uninjured. Unrecognisable to the man you thought you knew, but not dead, at least.

GODDDDDDDDD THE FACT THAT THEYRE TRTING TO WILL HIM ALIVE LIKE LYING AWAKE IN BED AT NIGHT, LITERALLT NOTHING IS WORSE THAN WISHING THAT SOMEONE WHO’S NOT AROUND ANYMORE COULD STILL BE AROUND, LIKE NOTHINT IS MORE INDICATIVE OF GUT WRENCHING LOSS AND ITS ONLY MADE WORSE BY THE FACT THAT READER AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WTF HAPPENED TO HIM ugggghhhdhdhdhhs also honorable mention: slapping you back and forth like we’re in a novela for the “what you’ll cement as fact” bc how very fuckign dare you

✷ A lifetime of wondering, then. That’s what you’ve been cursed with.

actually PHYSICALLYYYYY clutched my chest reading this

✷ You won’t sleep all night, wondering if he’s alive, wondering if it was a mistake to try and know him, and then in the morning, you’ll dress. Open the shop. Sell string bags and sunglasses to tourists, then go home and wonder again.

Can you see how well I’m doing not copy/pasting the entire fucking fic rn??!??????? LIKE REALLY DOING SO GREAT AT IT, A+ FOR ME this is not what failure looks like but the selling string bags and sunglasses to tourists, like once again, just trying to muscle thru a loss like that, and specifically an ambiguous loss where you’re liek “am I even allowed to be upset about this? ... probably not” so you’re just sweating and cringe smiling for Jesus bc if you allow the muscles of your face to relax into any other expression, you’ll literally burst into tears and send perfect strangers fleeing for the exit to avoid the sobbing basket case who supposedly owns this store. I mean do I personally have any experience with anything like this??? Ofc course not. But can I see how, maaaayyybeeee, possiblyyyyyyyyt, a person could pooteeeeentialllyyy feel that way. 10000% 🤫 these are not falsehoods in any way whatsoever

✷ You were half a breath away from falling for him. And the whole time, he was entwined in something dangerous enough to put you at risk. Real, true harm, only a car crash away.

AREEEEEEEEEEEEYOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFUUUUCKINGKGGJTJJRJRJRKIIIIIIIDDDINGMMMEE YOU WERE HALF A BREATH AWAY FROM FALLING FOR HIM????????!!!;!;!4!!44 LEGITIMATELY FUCKING DISGUSTED AT HOW FIRE OF A LINE THAT IS, LIKR AVTUAL GENUINE DISGUST, I ALMOST CHUCKED MY PHONE LIKE IT WAS A HOT POTATO, I AM NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING

✷ It was cowardice, really, keeping it from you for his own sake. It made him a coward. Or stupid. Head so far in the clouds, he thought you’d never see the ground.

SKSKSKSKKSS I snorted so loud at this roast bc as dreamy as Moi is, tbis is also him, to a fucking tee

✷ Prolonged, this time, because whoever’s pressing it, down on street level, isn’t relenting. They’re just holding it and holding it, and it’s echoing off the walls either side of you, so loud it’s making you cringe. Wince.

Okay, I’m there right now bc this is monstrously descriptive (cariñoso) and I have a headache already

✷ 'Cariño,’ he replies, tinny through the box. It sounds like he’s panting, hissing the words out. It could be the connection. You can’t remember how it sounded before now, how people besides him, right now, spoke through it. ‘Let me in.’

YOU CANT REMMEBER HOW IT SOUNDED BEFORE NOWWWWWJDJDIEINESBSIEJWOXOSNNW9/&2&293&4 I SWEAR TO CHRIST IMMACRUALLY GOING TO MURDER FOR THIS BC ONCE AGAIN, SUCH TANGIBLE LITTLE MOMENTS LOKE CORNERSTONES OF AMBIGUOUS LOSS, LIKE ARE YOU TRYING TO HURT ME!!!!!!!!!!:$:&3!3&3 HAVENT YKU DONE ENOUGH IN THE YEAR WEVE BEEN FRIENDS GOOD GODDAMN

✷ You’re swinging from the door before he can ask again. Leave it open, to save time when you come back. It’s late enough in the night that you don’t have to worry about neighbours, and you’re only on the first floor, only one communal stairwell away from him.

nononononononooooooononono don’t do that, don’t leave it open, like I completely get the logic but Romeo whoever is after him is probably an actual fucking psycho, dontdoitdontdoit plsplspls, god I am grinding my teeth, THE SHEER DREAD

✷ The t-shirt and gym shorts you’re wearing were never meant to leave the home, were never meant to be seen, by him of all people, riddled with moth holes and paint. It doesn’t matter. He needs you.

The funny thing about this is I actually think the domestic, regular?ness of this? Moi would be so fucking hot for sosksksks like it’s just so completely outside what he sees all the time, like taking a field trip to a place you’ve never been, and yes, in the real world, we wear big ass t shirts and boxers to sleep in

✷ The latch on door at the bottom sticks, for a moment. You rattle it free, desperate, then lug the huge timber open to get at him.

So, I’ve like never been to Spain before but I can picture exactly what this looks like and I just love the attention to detail, that you’ve like captured the different architecture that a flat in Spain would have vs like the US, or Mexico, or the UK, like where most of the other fandoms you write for take place. Bien hecho, mi comadre, lo ves bien

✷ He’s alive, standing in front of you, and alive. You can’t wait until the door’s shut again, you have to hug him, have to feel his heartbeat against your own.

YOUUUUUDHDIEHWBWNSOKSMAPWMENE HAVETOFEELHISHEARTBEATAGAINSTYOUROWN LIKE FUCKKKKKKKKKK OOOOOOFFFFFFFFFF WITH IT OKAYYY?????BBBSJSJSJE

✷ He pushes a shaky breath, taking a half-step into the entry way. ‘Please.’ His cleaner hand shifts from your collar, to sit on your shoulder for support. ‘Upstairs, cariño.’

So likeksskeksksksks when I take this sentence entirely out of context, like so, can we all just moment of silence at how actually blindingly sexy the description of his hand sliding from collarbone to shoulder is *bows head, closes eyes* ...... and amen

✷ You can only hope he’s making the right decision again, choosing you over the medical staff he so obviously needs.

SKKPPPPPDFTTTTTTTKDKDKDK IM ACTUALLTKTJFJD FUCKIGN CHOKING BC THIS JUST SMACKS SO MUCH OF “wait, come again???? So, you’re picking me over the hospital?? God fucking help you, my dude” SKSKS

✷ He’s heavier than you expected, all limp, tired muscle, that fights you with every step. If you didn’t have to, life or death, you wouldn’t manage it.

Idk what it is about the tacit self-awareness that liek were it not a life-or-death-scenario, this rock solid hunk of muscle would probably be an immovable obstacle just grounds this in so much reality a way that makes me angry bc it’s so well-written and snaps me into the urgency of the situation in a way that is actively causing a nervous system reaction despite the fact that I know none of it is real

✷ Your door is in sight, wide open and ready for you.

GODDDDDKDJDJ NOT THE DOOR WIDE OPEN, IM MUCH AFEARED

✷ There’s blood on his chin, streaking down his neck. Everything he touches is marked with it.

What is wrong with me don’t answer that, we already know it’s everything that I read this and immediately was like ................. aight, hot. KEKW

✷ There’s a hole in his stomach, staring back at you, leaking blood that’s almost black.

GODDDDSSSMJJJJJJJJJJJ SHUTT TF UPPPPPPPPOO I HATE YOU THIS IS SO FUCKINGKDJDJEJEHWBEJDHDBE VISCERAL AND TANGIBLE AND INSPIRED AND I LOVE YOU AND I HATE YOU AND I LOVE YOU AND I HATE YOUUUUUUUVSHEB

✷ He tries to smile, nodding. ‘It’s easy, okay? I’ll talk you through it.’

I can fuuuuullllyyyyyyyy fucking see this so clearly and it’s the most charming smile, to the point I want to slap it off his face bc no, despite his efforts to console Reader DIGGING A FUCKINT BULLET OUT OF SOMEONE’S ABDOMEN WITHOUT PUNCTURING A MAJOR ARTERY IS NOT ALL HAHAHAHAHA EASY, ESE MENSO ME ESTÁS BROMANDO????

✷ No matter how thorough you are, it still won’t work, you still won’t be clean enough to root about in his stomach.

See, Reader knows what’s real

✷ 'Tranquilo,’ he sighs. ‘Tenemos tiempo.’

‘Do we?’ you bark back at him, flicking water as you shut off the tap. ‘You look like you’re fucking dying, Moisés.’

ONCE AFAINSKSKSJSJDDJ READER KNOWS

✷ 'If it was going to kill me, it would have.’

You don’t have to be medically trained to know that that’s bullshit. It could have damaged him elsewhere, somewhere deeper than surface level. He could drop dead in a day, or a week, regardless of how well you manage things right now.

I love this more than anythingjsjdjdjdjdjdjejd bc it’s so me, but also like the fact that it’s making me think Reader is for some reason, super into true crime, like listens to a lot of true crime podcasts or is like an avid fan of Grey’s Anatomy of Dr. G, Medical Examiner or some shit like that sksjejejeje like the fact that they understand how deeply unqualified they are to do this jobsksksksje like in my head, they’re going, “bitch, you telling me this as if I don’t watch prestige TV, okay?!? Like I have HBO, I have seen Breaking Bad, I have seen The Sopranos.”

✷ ... wet thumb slipping from the wheel, again and again, before you finally catch the spark.

GODDDDDJDJDUEJEHEVEB ONCE AGAIN FUCKKKKKKKK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF THE WAY THIS IS SO PERFEXTLY DESCRIBED ACTUALLYYYYYY LOKE IM TAKING NOTES ON THE SKILL/TECHNIQUE AND ALSO PLOTTING YOUR DEMISE

✷ The knife is wobbling in his hold, because he’s shaking more than you are. Red fingers unable to grip the thing tight enough to start. It’s not going to work. He won’t be able to do it himself.

‘Damelo.’ You pluck it from him without waiting for an answer. ‘What do I do?’

THE WAY RHIS ENTIRE FUCKING THINGGGTTT HAD ME ON THE WDGE OF MY SEATTTTTTT AND THE BOOM, READER RISES TO THE OCCASION AND CUE ME JUMPING UP, FLINGING MY BUCKET OF POPCORN IN THE AIR, LIKE IF I WAS IN A SPORTSBALL STADIUM ID BE ON THE JUMBOTRON AS LIKE THAT MEGAFAN

✷ His stomach tenses beneath you, his thighs pincer around your hips—it’s all impulse, subconscious reactions that he can’t stop. The body trying to protect itself from the intruder.

First off, hot. Secondly, disgusting. What specifically is disgusting?? No, it’s not the blood or the gore, it’s the fact that this is so concrete and real and raw and vivid, and skilled and IMJUSTTTTTTTTTTTJJ BITING MY ACTUAL FIST OUT OF FEAR AND PERHAPS MINOR AROUSAL AND THEN YOU GOT CLOCK ME WITH A LEFT HOOK WOTH THAT “the body trying to protect itself from the intruder” AS IF IM NOT ALREADY UNCONSCIOUS FROM THE REPEATED BLOWS IVE BEEN DEALT READING THIS WHOLE ASS THING

✷ The end beneath the bullet. You press down without warning, because it wouldn’t have helped anyway, and force it out. Right back the way it had come.

Pfftttkdjdj the nerdy physicist in me is like fully thinking about the fluid mechanics and nodding at Reader like 😌 yes, that’s how one should go about doing that, despite the fact that it’s probably blindingly, agonizingly painful

✷ You’re beyond words now, the both of you. He doesn’t need to guide you through it. Can’t, really. And you don’t need to lie to him that it’ll only be a little longer, only be a little pinch. It’s just time to get it over with. Sew the skin together as best you can, hope the damage isn’t enough to kill him. Toes over the edge, and jump.

UGGGHHHHHHHHHHSJDJDHSJDJDJDBSJXJSJSLWOEKEMRNT TNTOROTN RMEE I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN bc in like every movie and tv show where this happens, like this is a list of all the cliches, ways characters reassure each other but it MAKES SO MUCH SENSE that actually this would be done in total silence, like Reader needs to concentrate, Moi is just shy of passing out so ofc neither of them is trying to placate the other with like words of encouragement and something about that, like eschewing all the cinematic cliches makes this feel MORE CINEMATIC TO ME???????????? To the point THAT I AVTUALLT WANT TO FUCKING FILM THE DAMN THING MYSELF I CAN SEE IT THAT CLESRYLDKDKDKDKDJENR

✷ You’d stitched the wound as best you could, but it won’t hold. It won’t do him any good in the long run.

UHHHHHHH BEG PARDON, IS HE FUCKINGKSKDJDJDJDJDNE DYINGG, HES TOTALLY DYING ISNT HE, JUST WHEN YOU LULLED ME INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY EXCEPT ITS MY OWN DAMN FAULT FOR LETTING MY GUARD DOWN AROUND A KNOWN TERRORIST

✷ His face isn’t streaked with blood anymore.

The way I read this and went “boooooo” sksksks

✷ You didn’t mind missing out on your own sleep just to watch him.

Uhhhhhhh— I mean— this is just— sisjebwhfiisnaksdnnwnwoxmssksoddkenene this is legitimately so wholesome and romantic I want to fucking throw my phone on the ground so hard, my screen shatters

✷ The room is dim still, lit with the in-between blue of night and sunrise.

OHHHHHHFUCJJJJJJJKKKKKKKKKOFFFFFFFFFFFF THE IN- BETWEEN BLUE OF NIGHT AND SUNRISE, ITS GENIUS, I HATE YOU, IM SOBBING

✷ ‘So, thank-you, for not doing that. Don’t think I could explain a dead man in my bed.’

KSKSKSKSKSK the way Reader is lowkey like “half a breath away from loving you Moi, yes. So glad you’re not dead, but I also would not be able to explain this mess if you’d died, so double thank you” very pragmatic sksks

✷ He wouldn’t have come, he means, if he thought he would die. But what would he have done instead? Crawled off into the bush like animals do, found somewhere quiet to die on his own?

UGHHHHHHHHMYWHOLEHEARTTTTTT BC ACTUALLT YES THIS IS PROBABLY EXACTLY WHAT HE’D DO, LIKE THIS MF IS AN APEX PREDATOR, HE’D COMPLETELY STALK INTO THE BUSHES TO DIE ALONE LIKE A CAT DOES AND ITD BE SO HEARTBREAKINT BC HED THINK THAT’S EXAVTLY HOW HE DESERVES TO DIE AND UGJDODIDISJDODIKSOWOSK

✷ ‘You have a lot of questions,’ he says ... Ask them.’ He’s tired, you can tell, not only from the day before, the injuries, but from the combination of it all. From the weight on his back, the cost of folding mystery over his life. He wants out. Wants the truth between you, no matter the consequence.

Literally I have no breath or thumb strength rather to scream further, like I am as tired as Moi no I’m not, I’m just dramatic sksjs but this is so fucking poignant and beautifully written and heartbreaking and I JUSTTTTTTJFJDJDJDJEHEHDH LIKE I DONT INOW WHAT TO SAY, I AM SPEECHLESS LIKE I AM FULLY WITHOUT SPEECH TO ARTICULATE THE DEPTH OF WOW THAT I FEEL READING THSI FUCKINGKDJDJDDJR PARAGRAPH

✷ 'If you want me to leave…I’ll go. You won’t see me again.’ The knee jerk reaction is to tell him that you don’t want that, that you would’t send him away ... just because of who he is. What he does. But you know that’s a self-laid trap, waiting to be stepped in. He could say anything. He could be anyone.

'Okay,’ you reply, accepting his deal. ‘Let’s start at the beginning.’

HE COULD SAY ANYTHING. HE COULD BE ANYONE. You wanna know what you’ve done to me? This.

This is what you’ve done. These are the crimes you have committed, bc this??????b. THIIISSSSSSSS??????!!!!!!!!!!!!:&:&:Bbbbbwbebejjejenr IS SOME OF YOUR BEST SHIT TO DATE, AND IM NOT FUCJINT JOKING IN THE SLIGHTEST OR BLOWING SMOKE UP YOIR ASS OR EXAGERATTING FOR EFFECT which yes .... I have been known to do THIS IS ACTUALYYYYYYYYYYYY ONE OF THE MOST FIRE ENDINFS TO ANY FIC IVE EVER READ, ITS BESUTIFUL, ITS PERFECT, ITS LINDA EVANGELISTA OKAYYYY????????? And I love you and hate you and love you and hate you for it, nunca lo olvides que has hecho en ese día, acciones terroristas, guerra psicológica, dañó permanente y duradero de la shingada pues

the other man, pt. 2

moisés (sky rojo) x gn!reader, 3406 words

warnings for blood, gunshot wounds, DIY medical treatment

for day 17 of whumpril: cry for help | self treatment | ‘i can’t do this.’

a/n: the way this poor guy has no (?) fics on here at all, and im already maiming him. my god

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc​

part one here

You left him there. You left him there, and it’s been hours, sun sinking beneath the horizon, warmth slipping into cold. He hasn’t rang you. Not even a text. He’s probably dead, right? You probably left him to die. Shirt splattered with red, arm stretched across the concrete. Gun just out of reach.

You groan, turning to push your face into the pillow. It doesn’t help to imagine it. Even if he’s alive, you might never see him again. What if’s won’t do anything but torment you, if there’s never any closure, no evidence of the alternative.

The last you saw of him, he was alive. In control. Not scared in the slightest, as far as you could tell, so that’s what you’ll remember. What you’ll cement as fact. Alive, uninjured. Unrecognisable to the man you thought you knew, but not dead, at least.

Go away with me, he said. He knew they were coming. He tried to get out, you with him, hand in hand, before they got there. That meant something, right? The Moisés you knew was holding out still, before the gunfire. Putting you and him in the sun.

Keep reading

[sataniquepanique]

Do It. 

Summary: Eddie's rude neighbor threatens him, and little does she know you are 100% ready to fight for him (and it really turns Eddie on).

Genre: fluff, light smut, standing up for Eddie, 18+ only.

Warnings: cursing, anger, light violence (choking), light smut.

A/N: Writing this because of a real situation that happened recently with myself and my fiancé, only it didn't end exactly like this lol

“Eddie!” You squeal as he tears his van into the trailer park. “Stop making me laugh, I have to pee so bad!” You try to stop giggling, tears rimming your eyes from laughing so hard at some dumb joke Eddie kept running with. 

The van lurches to a stop in front of his trailer, both of you still heavily breathing trying to recover from your laughing fits. You wrench the passenger side door open letting the deafening sounds of W.A.S.P. echo into the night. Leaping out, you sprint to the front door. “Eddie! Open the fucking door or I will legitimately piss my pants on your doorstep!” You yell at him, watching him kill the engine and slowly exit the van, pretending to not know what key he needs to open the front door. The second he unlocks it, you rush past him to the bathroom, silently chastising yourself for drinking a large diet coke right before you left the movie theater. 

You emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, noticing how quiet the trailer was. Eddie is a bull in a china shop, and you can always hear him no matter what he’s doing. Practicing guitar? Loud. Doing dishes? Loud. Changing the channel on the tv? Fucking loud. He’s incapable of being quiet, so its suspicious that he seemingly followed you into the trailer yet it’s this quiet. 

You peer into his room, scanning the stacks of tapes, piles of clothes and other random shit lying about. He’s not in here. You walk down the hall to the kitchen and can see he’s clearly not in the trailer anymore. 

He did follow you inside, right? You can’t even remember, with how preoccupied you had been with trying to not piss yourself. That’s when you heard it. There was muffled talking coming from out front. You go to the front door and peer out the window, seeing Eddie talking to a woman you recognize as his neighbor on the corner. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the look on her face is far from friendly. Eddie seems calm though, smoking a cigarette with one hand in his jacket pocket. The woman says something and Eddie starts to talk with his hands, which he tends to do when he gets emotional. And then you see it. The spark that ignites something inside of your brain, something that makes you see nothing but crimson fucking red. The woman has her finger pointed at Eddie, right at his face, millimeters from his nose, and she’s snarling something at him. You burst through the door, stalking across the yard. 

“…ALL HOURS OF THE FUCKING NIGHT! YOU NEED TO KEEP THE GODDAMN MUSIC DOWN OR SO HELP ME GOD…” the woman spits at Eddie as you push past him and stand between them. Her finger that was pointed at his nose, is now touching your forehead as you stare daggers at her, never moving your eyes from hers. 

“Is there a problem?” you growl, narrowing your gaze. You can feel Eddie’s presence behind you, and can smell the smoke he’s nervously blowing over your head. He might be loud and abrasive, but the kid is incredibly passive. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and doesn’t enjoy unnecessary confrontation, unless it’s with some dumb jock at school. You on the other hand, love to match people’s energy, especially when they deserved to get absolutely fucked. 

“Why don’t you go back to your house.” You warn her, clenching your fists at your side. 

“Why don’t you tell your little trailer trash boyfriend to keep his fucking music down?” She sneers at you, lowering her finger. 

Ding, ding, bitch.

You step towards her and she puts her hand on your throat, fingers splayed across your jawbone. 

You lean into her hand, forcing her to push on your windpipe. Her eyes dart from your face to Eddie’s behind you, and you can see a flash of fear in them. 

Leaning in harder you clench your teeth, “do it bitch. Fucking. Do. It.” You feel her elbow cave as she pulls her hand away from you. 

You give her the most satanic smile, as you are quickly lifted into the air from behind. Eddie has thrown you over his shoulder and is now carrying you back towards his trailer. The woman yells while walking away, “Redneck pieces of shit!” And you lift your head to see her face as you give her two middle fingers. 

Eddie dumps you onto the couch inside the trailer and stands in front of you, one hand on his hip while the other cards through his hair. You can’t read his face, but suddenly you have an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. “Eddie…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like that, I just saw her being so aggressive towards you and I blacked out.” You look at him apologetically while he stares at the kitchen avoiding your gaze. 

A few seconds pass, and he hasn’t said anything.

“Eddie…talk to me please…” you whisper, standing up and touching his arm.

He gives a dark chuckle and turns to face you.

“That was…without a doubt…the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He stares at you, giving you a wry half smile. 

This was far from the reaction you had expected.

Eddie’s dark eyes are boring into yours, his smile has turned sinister, as he snakes one arm around your waist. His other hand grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you into a ferocious kiss, while you brace yourself against his chest by clutching handfuls of his shirt. He wasn’t joking, you could feel how hard he was as you pushed your hips into his.

The hand that is holding the back of your hair in a vice grip smooths it’s way down to your cheek, and then trails to your neck. You shiver at the coolness of Eddie’s rings as they trace your skin. He stops at your throat and squeezes slightly, pulling away from the kiss. 

You look up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. “…do it bitch.” 

Eddie’s eyes close as he rolls them back. “Jesus Christ….” He growls as he grabs the back of your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back into his bedroom. You trail hot kisses down the side of his neck, feeling his hands squeezing your ass right before he throws you back onto his bed. 

You glance up at the wall next to his bed, and then back at him. “Can we use the cuffs tonight?”

He gives you a devilish grin as he rips his shirt over his head, “oh sweetheart…we’re going to be doing everything tonight.” 

[babyboibucky]

Angel on Her Knees

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You give Bucky the TLC he deserves.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: SMUT, an overly eager blowjob 😏

A/N: So this is the first blowjob fic I’ve ever done and this is all thanks to @borikenlove sending me ideas with encouragements from my nasty babes @bitchassbucky and @sarge-barnes-sir okay tbh I didn’t proofread this because I’m super excited to post this filth 😌 I hope this reached y’alls expectations 😬

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s had a long and rough day, judging by his heavy footsteps and soft grunts when he arrived home.

You were in the kitchen washing the dishes, eyeing Bucky warily and gauging his mood.

“Rough day, babe?” You called out sweetly, your eyes following Bucky as he sat on the couch.

He merely groaned in response, throwing his head back against the back of the couch, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in deep thought.

The scowl on Bucky’s face was supposed to make you feel bad for him, he looked tired and worked up— exhausted actually. Would it be inconsiderate of you if you were legitimately turned on by how your boyfriend looked right now?

You found yourself tilting your head to get a better view of Bucky on the couch. His legs were wide open, stretching out the garment of his jeans across those thick thighs of his; the rapid movement of his chest as he heavily breathed out through his nose, the black shirt he had on only accentuating his pecs.

And his face, did he really have to have that expression when exhausted?

Licking your lips, you turned off the faucet and wiped your hands dry. Your eyes never left Bucky the entire time as you silently waltzed into the living room.

For a super soldier with enhanced hearing, Bucky sure wasn’t attentive enough to notice you when you knelt down on the ground, positioning yourself in between his legs.

“How tired are you, baby?” You purred, holding onto Bucky’s knees.

Bucky jolted in his seat, eyes snapping open when you spoke. He lifted his head up and saw you looking up at him and the sight alone instantly made him forget what he was stressing over.

You on your knees in between his thighs, looking so innocent yet devilish at the same time. How could Bucky say no to you when you were gazing up at him like an angel who looked more than ready to sin?

“Not too tired for whatever it is going on in that head.” Bucky rasped out and lovingly caressed your hair.

You took your lower lip in between your teeth, your hands immediately sliding up from Bucky’s knees towards his thighs. Bucky watched you with half-lidded eyes and his mouth parted as you impatiently fumbled with his zipper.

“Just sit back, baby. Let me do all the work.” You whispered before taking Bucky’s semi-hard cock out of the confines of his boxers.

Bucky let out a hiss when you pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the tip as you wrapped a hand around his shaft. It only took him a couple of kitten licks on the head for his cock to fully harden and you moaned out loud when you felt it pulse against your palm.

His cock was hot and heavy, red and already seeping with pre-cum. And you haven’t even taken him into your mouth yet. Bucky’s hands found purchase on the edge of the couch as he watched you flatten your tongue against his shaft, licking your way back up to the tip and then sucking the head into your mouth.

“Jesus fuck...” Bucky grunted, hips thrusting upwards with need.

You tutted and pulled back, “Stay still and keep your hands on the couch, babe.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose and nodded, letting out a growl when you started pumping his cock in your hand. Your strokes were slow, too slow for Bucky’s liking and good god, the way you were staring up at him was making it hard for Bucky to hold back.

He wanted to take your head and fuck your mouth, wanted to feel you gag around his cock, wanted to see you look up at him with tears in your eyes.

Obviously, that can wait until next time because as much as Bucky loved to take control, seeing you take the wheels on this one was something else.

Bucky’s knuckles turned white when he gripped the couch tighter than ever, his thighs trembling when you finally took his cock into your mouth.

You didn’t go slow, that was for sure. You went straight to it, taking him deep into your throat and keeping him there until you choked. You released him with a gasp, moaning when you saw how Bucky was looking down at you with feral eyes.

“Keep watching me.” You said, darting your tongue out to scoop some of his pre-cum and humming at his taste.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, sweetheart.” Bucky grunted, scrunching his face in pleasure.

You grinned up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, hands curling around his knees for support as you went to town. You bobbed your head up and down, letting your tongue swirl around the crown of Bucky’s cock every once in a while.

A mixture of spit and pre-cum started dribbling from your lips as you sucked his cock, humming whenever you felt him hit the back of your throat.

Bucky’s jaw tensed as he watched you, your cheeks hollowing whenever you pulled back. His neck and ears were red as opposed to his hands that were turning white as they clutched onto the edge of the couch so tight, his fingers were close to digging holes through the fabric. He was fighting so hard not to lift his hips up, he felt like he was going to combust any time now.

The vulgar slurping sounds of your mouth as it does wonders to Bucky’s dick rang through the air, coupled with the low growls reverberating from his chest.

“God, baby...fuck...you’re sucking my cock so well.” Bucky moaned, throwing his head back as he focused on how your mouth felt so fucking good around him.

“Watch me, Bucky.” You preened and started pumping his cock with both your hands.

“Wanna see your face when I suck your cock.” You moaned and waited for Bucky to meet your eyes before sucking him back into your mouth.

Bucky let out a growl when your hand squeezed his balls, fondling it in your palm as you continued to bob your head.

The whirring sound of his vibranium arm caught your attention. Bucky was so close, so so close and he was holding back from lifting his hips up that the plates on his arm moved on their own.

You smirked, mouth full of Bucky’s cock and then you sucked him so hard that he came without warning. Ropes of his cum filled your mouth, some escaping from your lips and dripping down to your chin.

“Goddammit!” Bucky grunted and grabbed your head, trying to push you back when you continued to suck.

Bucky was moving his hips away but you refused to let him go, pressing your hands down on his thighs to keep him in place. You sucked and flicked your tongue, ignoring the string of curses that left Bucky’s mouth.

“Baby...jesus...s-stop babe...” Bucky’s moan was never like this, high-pitched and so wanton and it spurred you to keep going, curious to see how long Bucky could take.

Bucky’s toes curled inside his shoes, his entire body feeling tingly from how you kept sucking his cock. His head was spinning and yet he couldn’t look away from you as you continued working him up as you eagerly sucked him.

Bucky’s legs began to tremble, pleasure and pain mixing into a certain sensation that he couldn’t even describe.

It was too much but so good at the same time.

Bucky hissed, his lower lip quivering as he let out a loud groan. You slowly pulled back, lips dragging against his softening shaft and tongue flickering on his slit.

You hummed and wiped your chin clean with the back of your hand. Bucky let out a deep, long sigh before relaxing onto the couch. Resting his head against it as he tried to catch his breath.

You could see the aftershocks course through Bucky, his cock stirring oh so slightly whenever he shuddered.

“Good god, woman.” He breathed out with a chuckle.

He looked divine like that, his forehead sweaty and entire face red. His brows were furrowed, lips pink and swollen from being bitten down whenever he held back on his moans— it made your pussy clench around nothing.

“How are you feeling now?” You teased and moved on top of Bucky, straddling him.

Bucky lifted his head to give you a kiss, “I don’t think I can even remember my own name. Fuck, I thought you weren’t going to stop.” He said, his hands caressing your thighs.

You giggled, “I wouldn’t if you hadn’t moaned so wantonly like that.”

Bucky burst out laughing, “That was my soul leaving my body.”

You hummed and took Bucky’s vibranium hand, bringing it down to your clothed cunt and letting Bucky feel how drenched you already were.

Bucky growled and stroked your pussy through your damp panties, “How about I let you experience what it’s like for your soul to leave your body?”

It was your turn to elicit a moan so wanton and needy, you were sure that you wouldn’t even have a soul left in your body by the time Bucky’s finished with you.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni @girlfriday007​ @5-seconds-of-mendes @whoth3hellisbucky​​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03

[my-amygdala-is-synthetic]

okay I'm spewing my thoughts into a text post (there sure are a lot of them)

like I said I had seen almost ZERO spoilers for this movie, somehow, I was going in blind and that made it SUCH a treat. the only spoilers I knew were that Ned Does Magic and the other spidermen + Otto were there. I didn't even know about the villains, I figured Norman shows up but I deadass thought it would be like, a cameo

anyways lets start out with why it sucked

No Way Home is... not a good movie. it is objectively a pretty bad movie, in fact. there is zero substance beyond pandering fanservice.

and even then. the fanservice is kind of bad! everyone is painfully out of character! it is so obvious that they all just showed up for a disney paycheck. it hurts my heart to hear Alfred Molina doing mcu quips. the "throwback lines" were stupid asf I groaned out loud every time except when Tobey said mY bAcK but sorry im a simp

I think Flint Marco was the most in character but even then he had some questionable writing. yassified Electro was so fucking funny, I can't even complain about his glowup, Jamie Foxx rly said yeah I'll be in the movie but you gotta right some wrongs. I respect that

I have never like Doctor Strange, Benderbump Cumdumpass has SUCH A HORRIBLE american accent it pisses me off so badly. and why was he so smooth in this? he looked like he was from a video game? it was very odd. thankfully he wasn't in it as much as I feared, and he had like two lines that made me giggle so I'll accept it

Marvel movies have set feminism back by 30 years on god. there's no reason for there to be only three women in a cast this size. Zendaya at least had better characterization in this than in HC/FFH. but mcu Aunt May is done so dirty. it is legitimately offensive how she's made into a one-note AUNT MAY IS HOT NOW joke. the purpose of her character is supposed to be Peter's rock to rely on. they did not lean to that dynamic enough and it made her death so much less impactful, I kinda dgaf about it honestly! I thought Gwen's death was more emotional and I despised TASM2!

the action was not good, poorly choreographed, very boring, CGI :/

ALL THAT ASIDE, THE SHIT I LIKED!!!

because YES, it is a bad movie, BUT FUCK THAT WAS SUCH A FUN THEATER EXPERIENCE, not QUITE as much fun as I had in the theater with Spiderman 3, but such a cool vibe that I haven't felt since Endgame (sorry to be marvel's little bitch but yeah seeing that movie opening night was one of the coolest things ever)

Peter/Ned/MJ are such a cute polycule, sure it's no raimiverse throuple but who could ever live up to that.

when Connors was like "THAT'S his gf???" I laughed so hard cus I am also constantly wondering how Tom pulled her

I would also jump off the statue of liberty to save Zendaya, I really liked that Garf got to catch her I may have cheered

the old man yaoi with Otto and Norman was fun, I get why everyone ships them now, not quite my bag but I do see the appeal.

getting any reference at all to Harry was such a treat. I really thought they were just gonna pretend he didn't exist lol. fuck janco I hope he rots but it's for the best... mcu would have massacred his character. that being said "I had a best friend once, he died in my arms after he tried to kill me" I was simultaneously bursting into tears and laughing my ass off

WHERE THE FUCK WAS DANE DEHAAN THO... HELLO. I actually liked his version of Harry sorry!!

so at first I thought that the other Peters were also kind of ooc, Garf and Tobey should NOT be speaking in complete sentences!! but I thought about it and I think that actually they do feel like more matured versions of their characters.

the Mary Jane reference was nice but wow you really couldn't have Kirsten Dunst show up for just a second :( pay her some RESPECT as the first mistreated marvel girlie...

and the spideycest... WELL... I'm not going to draw yaoi of the three peters, I'm not, I'M NOT, but, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. lol. I gave this movie 3 stars on letterboxd and it would have been FUCKING TWO if it was not for the webshooter discussion. that was insane. that was out of pocket. that was beautiful and brave and they did that for the freaks like me out there.

anyways that was so much fun, I got so tipsed off canned cocktails and I did cry ONE tear at the end and I am extra sad that it's all over, I wish I could go see all the Spidermans in theaters again, this has made my fucking year and I'm so glad I did this!

^Ten times I saw the Bad Boys Ride Or Die trailer. I can recite that mf from memory now.

Now it is time to draw weird things yay bye. sorry if you read all this lol.

GUYS IM IN THE THEATER RIGHT NOW TO SEE NO WAY HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME

I have a feeling I won't like it I'm gonna be booing Doctor Strange and I'm only here for Tobey

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic were both JZX and Jiang Yanli are trans? I imagine the engagement would get complicated.

The More Things Change - ao3

“My lady,” the midwife said. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Madame Jin shook her head. “I need a son,” she said.

“My lady –”

“I’m not doing that again,” Madame Jin said, her voice getting stronger. “I need a son.”

“But –”

She looked at her loyal maid, who inclined her head.

A knife flashed.

“Congratulations, my lady,” her maid said, pushing aside the midwife’s body with her foot. “You have a son.”

Madame Jin smiled.

-

“I’m glad you survived the birth of your child,” Madame Yu said to her old childhood friend, wondering why she’d been invited over to visit Lanling City quite so quickly – it hadn’t even been a month. “Were you thinking –”

“I have a son,” her friend said.

“Congratulations.”

“You don’t understand,” her friend said. “There’s a problem.”

-

“A-Li,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said in a strange tone. “Do you like wearing dresses?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Yanli said, trying to see if she could stick her fist into her mouth. She’d always worn frocks, the way all children her age did, but at some point soon her mother had been warning her that she’d need to switch over to wearing proper robes for boys. Jiang Yanli had burst into tears, saying she didn’t want to be a boy at all – that she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side, that she didn’t want to join the world of men, she didn’t, she didn’t.

“And you really don’t want to go be a boy? Really, you’re sure?”

Jiang Yanli nodded.

“What if I said you didn’t have to be? You could be a girl, just the way you like.”

“Really?”

“Mm. But you’d have to be a girl forever.”

“Okay,” Jiang Yanli said happily. “I wanna be a girl forever.”

“Good,” her mother said, and picked her up. “Just keep saying that.”

-

“What do you think we are,” Jiang Fengmian asked his wife blankly. “Qinghe Nie?”

His wife glared daggers at him.

“Attempt the impossible,” she said stiffly. “A-Li has been claiming to be a girl consistently for a year. Would you deny her the chance to follow her dreams?”

Well, when she put it that way…

Jiang Fengmian hesitated.

“It does create a problem,” his wife said, and he looked at her. She smiled faintly and leaned forward, showing her curves to their best advantage. “If she’s a girl, she’ll marry out, won’t she? We need a boy.”

Jiang Fengmian swallowed. A boy sounded – nice, he thought vaguely, eyes caught on what he was being offered. A little boy, lively and bright, with a happy smile always on his face…yes, that sounded rather nice.

Wei Changze’s letter upstairs said that his wife had announced that they had conceived, and that she had divined that it would be a son – it was frightfully early to make such predictions, less than a month in, but apparently disciples of the immortal mountain were able to determine such things early. A boy like that, who could be friends with their boy, a reason for them to come to visit and maybe even to stay…

Yes, he thought. That sounded rather good.

“All right,” he said. “A-Li can be a girl, I guess.”

-

Madame Yu and Madame Jin let news of the engagement seep out as rumor for months before telling their husbands. When they did, they took different approaches: Madame Jin pointed out the strategic benefits of an alliance with Yunmeng Jiang and the unlikelihood of Jin Guangshan finding a match for their son that would give him so much more influence in the cultivation world, which had made her husband stop his grumbling and look upon the match with a favorable eye.

Madame Yu stared at her husband, for whom she had just born a son three weeks premature and very nearly died in the process, and said, “What’s your problem?”

“A-Li can’t marry the Jin sect heir! She’s not –” He waved his hands. “The possibility of children –”

“I would have thought that would be a selling point,” Madame Yu said, and he blinked at her. “He’s Guangshan’s son. There will be children enough.”

After some further arguing, Jiang Fengmian begrudgingly backed down.

Madame Yu smiled to herself, and thought of grandchildren.

-

Everyone said that Jin Zixuan was a spoiled brat and incredibly lucky, but he didn’t think he was. Sure, he was rich and legitimate; his father valued him, while his mother loved him and would defend him against any challengers to his position as heir, but privately…

“Why do I have to work so hard?” Jin Zixuan asked, panting. “I’m already cultivating, and my teachers say I’m not bad with the sword –”

“Not bad isn’t good enough,” his mother said sharply. “You have to keep up with all the rest of them, and that means getting ahead now.”

“The rest of who?” he asked. “Do you mean…”

He hesitated, not knowing if he was also included in his mother’s taboo against mentioning the results of his father’s philandering.

“All of the cultivation world’s young gentlemen,” she said, to his surprise. “You have to keep up with them. No, you need to exceed them. You must!”

“But – why?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

-

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. She was clutching a book in her hands. “Mother, can we talk?”

Her mother frowned at her, looking disapproving – and then she saw the book.

Jiang Yanli thought she would yell at her, but she didn’t; her mother only gestured for her to come into her room, ordering her maids to close the doors and windows.

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. “Mother, the book –”

“How did you get a spring book?” her mother asked. She looked tired. “Surely you’re still too young?”

Jiang Yanli bowed her head.

It was true, she was too young. And yet…

“Mother, the pictures in the book…”

“I know.” Her mother sighed. “All right. Let me explain.”

-

Jin Zixuan stared at his mother. He felt sick.

“But,” he said, and swallowed. “But what about…?”

“I’ve handled it,” she said harshly. “But that is why you must not allow your father to take you to a brothel. Is that understood?”

-

“Who do you think is the best girl? Zixuan-xiong?”

“Oh, don’t ask him! He has a fiancée, so his answer will be her!”

“A fiancée? Really? What sect is she from? She must be extremely talented!”

“Forget it,” Jin Zixuan said.

“What do you mean by that?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, and suddenly he was getting into his face. “Say that again if you dare!”

Jin Zixuan opened his mouth, hating him – hating the whole situation, being stuck not making any decisions for himself, his whole life mapped out for him by others – but then hesitated.

Jiang Yanli is the only one fit for you, his mother said. Do you understand? The only one.

“I haven’t met her since I was five,” he said instead of what he wanted, rolling his eyes. “So how could I dare to boast about her in your presence? You all want to know about her, ask Jiang-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him, the wind suddenly taken out of his sails.

Jin Zixuan escaped.

He felt like shit, thought. She was his fiancée, and he didn’t know anything about her – he didn’t want to hear about her, think about her. And yet…

The only one.

He went back to his room and wrote her a letter. It was a mess, the worst thing he’d ever written, nothing at all like the polite and careful phrasing, elegant and beautiful, that he’d been trying to put together, something worthy of his name.

He sent it before he could think better of it.

-

Jiang Yanli held the letter to her chest and smiled.

-

They’d exchanged a few dozen letters. Jin Zixuan knew that his intended was smart and witty, empathetic and kind, observant and well-meaning, but he didn’t know that she was beautiful until after they escaped from the indoctrination camp and the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

He’d just accompanied Jiang Cheng for the entire seven days it took to get to the Lotus Pier, collapsing right alongside him, and while Jiang Cheng had – somehow – gotten back on his feet and immediately led his father and mother out the door to go rescue Wei Wuxian, he’d stayed down on the floor until someone knelt down in front of him and smiled.

“Can I get you something to eat, Jin-gongzi?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, and turned bright red. He could sure think of some things he’d like to eat – living as his father’s son had certainly given him an education (however theoretical) about that.

“Food,” Jiang Yanli clarified, giggling into her sleeve. “Let me get you some food.”

-

This was probably a bad idea, Jiang Yanli thought, looking down at the head tucked against her chest. I probably should’ve just stuck to food. What if he gets with child? What will we do then?

She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, though.

“A-Xuan,” she whispered, and Jin Ziuxan stirred a little. “Can we do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

That wasn’t a refusal.

-

“A-Li!” Jin Zixuan shouted, rushing forward. “A-Li, A-Li…!”

She collapsed into his arms.

He looked at the retainers from Meishan Yu, stubborn but pale. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s my fiancée. I can take care of her.”

“The Jin sect walks in the center path,” one of the retainers said. “Never quite committing to the Sunshot Campaign. How do we know this isn’t a trick to get into the Wen sect’s good books?”

Jin Zixuan bit his lip. He’d pushed his father time and time again, and even that had only gotten them to participate half-heartedly in the fight against the Wen sect. What could he say? What worth was his word?

“It’s all right,” Jiang Yanli said. “I trust him.”

-

“You could do so much better, you know,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not too late!”

Jiang Yanli smiled down at her wedding outfit, but thinking instead of the panicked expression on Jin Zixuan’s face a week before when he’d unexpectedly thrown up in the morning when he was supposed to be preparing for the Phoenix Mountain hunt.

“Oh, it’s too late,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “On that note, you pick the name.”

“The name…?”

“For our upcoming nephew.”

“Shijie! You didn’t!”

Jiang Yanli’s grin widened.

-

“Wei Wuxian has committed a crime in attacking our camp and taking the Wen remnants,” Jin Zixuan’s father announced. “We should –”

“Let it go, Father.”

“…what?!”

“I’m getting married, and he’s A-Li’s shidi,” Jin Zixuan reminded his father. “It would be inauspicious to start a marriage by breaking such a relationship.”

His father looked like he was planning on ignoring that, so Jin Zixuan used his trump card.

“We can’t afford anything inauspicious right now,” he said. “Not when there’s a child on the way.”

His mother dropped her cup.

-

“I have to go,” Jin Zixuan said. “You don’t understand. I have to.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed his hair. “You’re supposed to be in seclusion,” she reminded him. “As am I.”

“I’ve been throwing up every morning for two months, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “I can order them to clear the kitchen. No one would know we were there!”

Jiang Yanli laughed a little. “The craving’s that bad, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, all right. We’ll give it a shot…”

It would have worked, too, if Jin Guangyao hadn’t noticed that too many people were in the wrong place and taken it upon himself to investigate.

“…Jiang-guniang?” He stared at her flat waist, then turned his eyes slowly towards the roundness at Jin Zixuan’s. “Jin-gongzi…?!”

“It’s all right, it’s A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan said to Jiang Yanli. “He won’t tell anyone. Right?”

Jin Guangyao shook his head mutely.

“Seclusion,” he muttered. “No wonder…everyone said it was bad timing that you went into seclusion right before Mistress Jiang announced her pregnancy. But it wasn’t, was it..?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“We’re in your debt,” Jin Zixuan said, and thought Jin Guangyao’s eyes upon him were softer than they’d ever been before. “You’ll be a good uncle.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “One question, if I may. Who’s the father?”

Jiang Yanli wrapped an arm around Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and beamed.

Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped again.

-

“Your son needs you,” Jiang Yanli said to Madame Jin. “Go.”

-

“Jin Ling,” Madame Jin said, looking down at the baby in her arms. A son, her grandson…a miracle. “Well. You’re – not what I expected.”

If her husband ever found out…

Well.

She’d just have to make sure he wouldn’t, now, wouldn’t she?