#{ i am anguished (affectionate) }

[huntershowl]

when mutuals hit the dash with the beautifully written angst

[samodivaa]

Lust looks pretty on you

Bucky x Reader : One Bed Trope. But he is your crush and his body is too close. He can't tell that you are masturbating, right...?

Warnings - soft smut, masturbation Words - 2.5k AN - I want to make a filthy version as well, but this felt just right.

Somehow you cannot help being reminded of a him, you look at him with compassion, sometimes with sympathy—though suddenly in one instant he becomes, as though by chance, lovely and exquisite, you can’t comprehend the power of those pensive eyes flashing with such fire—between the shadow and your soul, you love him, feelings can’t be repressed. But sometimes his eyes, his soft features burn with anguish and you grieve, in silence, that his beauty fades—your eyelashes glisten with tears Bucky never knows of.

When he comes close to you, there is already a gleam of a smile on your lips, faintly blushing and looking down.

“There is a room, but it has only one bed” he says uneasily. “I am okay with that” you say with an indescribable gesture, a gravest face, but your heart begins throbbing. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and-” Bucky speaks timidly in an ingratiating voice. “I assure you” you say in a whisper, full of affection, eyes beaming with delight as you take his human hand.

Finishing your answer, you pause pathetically, because there is an intense desire to force yourself to laugh, already feeling that a malignant demon is stirring inside, making you imagine curtain scenarios and suddenly there is a lump in your throat. You are always so tender, so solicitous with him—your soul is full with loving sympathy. “I can sleep on the floor-” Bucky begins in a plaintive voice, in which there lies a hope, though a very faint one and bends his head. “No, I would never allow that” He is looking at you intently, while a strange curiosity gleams in yours. Bucky stops, with his mouth open, because he can’t speak for delight as you continue to hold his hand. Your lips are quivering and you try to say something as well, but can only convulsively squeeze Bucky's hand in silence. You continue to look affectionately at him as a smile passes over his lips. “Okay” he brings out at last.

When you enter the hotel room, you say tragically “Oh, the bed is small” Your eyes meet, he is gazing at you with a sort of wonder that evidently surprises you. Then, he tilts his head, his thin lips threatening to break into a smile

“But we will manage!” 

You say briskly, quick to add to the previous statement, and, indeed, on the mad idea that flashes on your giddy brain—you will take a long shower in the hopes that he will fall asleep. That position is desperate, but you are hot with shame, because he keeps staring at you, grasping at once that you might be up to some mischief. Bucky always does that—studies every gesture, every movement you make, listens to every vibration of your rich voice, but strange to say, as the result of all his observations tonight, he feels, mixed with a sweet and timid impression, a feeling of intense curiosity. It seems as though he is on the verge of uncovering the mystery of your unusual behavior. But with your masterly acting, trying to keep you together, the whole process goes on in you unconsciously as you approach the other side of the bed in wide steps after having closed the door behind and sit on the mattress. You have purposely chosen this solitary spot, your eyes facing the wall. “You go shower first, I want to call my mom” Bucky grows suddenly confused, and a faint trace of vexation is betrayed in his impatient movement and he is glad that you can’t see it, but he remains quiet, in his heart there is a sort of haunting worry—are you scared of sleeping next to him? Is it because of his nightmares? He is irritated, boiling with indignation and hate, towards himself, for it is the first time that he has felt like that in your presence. Feelings so coarsely handle him—he is reminded of what he truly is. 

The sound of running water echoes as he decides to go and turn the faucet on, adjusting it to a comforting warmth. Heaven. He winces as his back is met with hot water, swapping through his hair, through the curls and then running in streams down his shoulders, muscles protesting with each movement, but the warmth provides a reprieve from the ache that is a companion throughout the whole night. Bucky is analyzing the situation while he showers. His heart leaps and shudders when he exits the bathroom, but he is thankful that you are still talking on the phone so he lays on his side in despair and misery, hiding his face in the pillow, and is alternately feverish and shivery—he will make sure not to sleep, because his mind is too frightened by the the idea of scaring you with his nightmares, in his exhausted state all the emotions of the day come back to him in a rush. Whatever lies hidden in both your secret and behavior, he understands, but it causes moments of anguish of which he won’t forget. You longed to cheer him up, to relieve his anxiety if only by a glance, but when you see him sleeping, you tip-toe to the bathroom as Bucky lays with his eyes shut. When you come back into the room, his eyelashes quiver, but he controls himself and does not open his eyes. Was he that tired?  When you begin pulling up the quilt over you, shame or some other feeling drowns him, wishing to hide from this moment, but he can’t fall asleep so he persisted in lying in bed in silence as you obstinately pull the blanket higher and higher.

A terrible, awful weakness overcomes your senses, you try to lay with your eyes closed, because desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving and you can’t master your need for him—that realization leaves you rather embarrassed, and at once flush crimson. This feels all so humiliating, and then you make that blunder, a very important one—you think about pleasuring yourself. That’s just what makes you so ecstatic, that you have a presentiment.... and though it’s so dreadful, it’s all for the best. In fact, you believe nothing better could have happened, because this is once in a life's opportunity. Involuntarily, you find your eyes scouring the darkness, looking for the outline of his bulky body, but you can only feel the warmth radiating from it. You move your fingers slowly and strainedly, working your way down your torso and swallow when you reach your panties as your nipples harden, poking through your shirt. You swiftly pull your panties to the side, strings of your wetness part from your underwear and you realize—there is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. You breathe meekly and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, because you hate the notion of being reduced to pleasuring yourself merely because of his close proximity, an embarrassing, desperate thing to do, but even so you keep on gently touching yourself.

You begin sliding your index finger between the folds of your entrance, it makes you shiver and your mouth slightly hangs open, heat rushing to your puffy cheeks, eyes halfway shut. The magic that coils through your own touch leaves you breathless, and your back arches a bit into the sensation as a strange euphoria. You struggle slightly to stay motionless, the other hand trails down to your breasts to squeeze them slightly, purposely avoiding your nipples for now. You use the gathered wetness and press your finger firmly against your clit, making your thighs twitch. A sinner who sins boldly—but that makes you freeze. And yes, you have a sordid soul in many ways, but on the contrary, it is full of a fine feeling—of love for him. You are anxious, worrying is using your imagination to create something you don't want —but what if that movement woke him up? What if he somehow knows?

You start to rub slow circles around your clit as you tilt your head to his side, taking a shallow breath in through your nose. You are so aware of your sin that you fully cherish it and your imagination is a wonderful thing, it allows for all manner of undiscoverable thoughts —will he rub your clit like that? Maybe he will eat you out and moan into your cunt as he devours it? The soft flesh of your inner thighs ripples just a little as your legs shake, even though you try to control it, your chest heaves up and down just by thinking about it. You knead violently at the flesh of your right breast, pinching and flicking at your own nipple as you stimulate yourself. Then something unexpected happens. He sneezes. “Sorry” he says quietly, distinctly. It feels like you are caught, tried, and condemned to death. “Bucky? Bless you” you talk with as much composure as you can. And he was not supposed to hear, because It's a horribly private moment, a vulnerable moment on your part and he should be sleeping.

“Are you—” begins Bucky, but pauses in confusion. “No-” you interrupt suddenly, with a look of weariness, focusing on your lungs, on your ability to take a deep breath, to soothe with oxygen as the word rolls off your tongue while a deep blush suffuses your face. “Because I am” He is jerking off—? Well he was sliding across the painfully erect cock slowly through the fabric, making sure he didn't cum. His tone is so natural and respectful that you can't possibly suspect him of any insincerity. He feels instinctively that some such well-sounding humbug, brought out by him, will soothe your worries, and will be specially acceptable to you in such a delicate position. It is clear from his radiant face that he considers his words for the right ones in this moment, despite you not seeing his features in the darkness. Bucky gets up on his elbows, there is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his lust takes over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive need, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state. His hard dick twitches and arousal trickles down his spine, because of his own confession. You feel him shift on the bed and he turns on the light on his nightstand. 

His eyes narrow until they have faint darkish glitter. You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he stares at your face, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze. 

You have curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes, eyes that are very pretty and very nice, he loves when you turn to stare at his blue orbits—but you are fantasizing right now—which is utterly inappropriate for the part of your mind which wants to just hug Bucky all day long. “Were you thinking about me?” He asks innocently as he shamelessly stares—swallowing you whole. Slowly, you nod. He pushes off the blanket and your gaze drops to the outline of his cock, pushing up his heart into his throat—your breathing is eager and exciting—lips are faintly chapple, but soft in the corners. 

And then, his hot mouth is breathing into your ear and before you can even blink, he is on top of you, lips ghost over your earlobe. His hot mouth is breathing into your skin, your chest is pressed against his and he can feel the swell of your breasts through your shirt. You gasp as you feel his broad chest and toned abdomen holding you down as the hard bulge in his boxers rubs deliciously against your clothed pussy lips. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary—he kisses your neck, lips, cheeks, worships your skin, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat. He doesn't want just sex—he seeks passion. “Bucky-”

You keen between short breaths, between his gentle kisses as your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck. He rips your panties down with his metal hand and then reaches into his own to help his cock spring free. Drop of precum lands on your abdomen as he runs his thumb over the veins that run along the underside, barely audible as he drags his fingers across his tip, gathering the wetness before moving his fingers in front of your face. He gently rubs your lower lip, a finger working its way inside of your mouth, pressing on your tongue, eliciting a gag before removing it completely. “God, baby girl” he growls in your ear as his fingers brush up your soaking cunt “You look so innocent yet you were mastrubating right next to me” he goes on as he runs the tip of his finger back and forth, collecting your slick. Your eyes are pinched shut, lips parted ever so slightly, panting softly, a rosy flush coloring your cheeks. If it is the dirty element that gives pleasure to the act of lust, of his words, the dirtier it is, the more pleasurable it is bound to be—you are shameless, he thinks, swallowing the guttural groan that escapes him. You moan when he puts his fingers in his mouth, feverishly licking them, tasting you.

He is eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole, he thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he runs back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. It is a slow, torturous process as your cunt stretches around him, accommodating his girth. Love is something he wants to nurture and grow, a connection that exists within each one of you—he has not missed a single one of your gestures, not one of the indications of your body and now it occurs to him that your eyes themselves have the color of love, they speak the language of both emotions and pleasure.

He breaks the intense eye contact to attack your neck, sucking and lightly biting on your weakest spot. Never have you been more aroused than, more needy as you continue to be relished by him by cock inside of you. "You are so bold sometimes. It's why I love you" he smiles against your hot skin, wondering how on earth he'd been lucky enough to find you. Whiny, stranded pleads leave your lips. His words are so sweet in comparison to the filthy trusts. His lips find yours as he feels you getting closer and he pushes you farther to the edge as he begins to fondle with your clit, your breathing becomes more labored. He keeps circling his finger in just the way that you love it and you can feel the beginning of the orgasm, sending your body into a wave of pleasure. You clenching around him—shuddering against him, as an orgasm washes over his own body. Bucky lose himself in your eyes—in the vocabulary of them as the pleasure goes through your body. The words became unnecessary. He made you feel loved.

[solxamber]

Madly in love with how you write the twst cast its all so good genuinely read the idia x sentient npc one and its SO GOOD I THINK NBJVSD

Tossing in a request since it seems like theyre open,,

How about headcanons oneshot whatever you feel like writing, for Azul in mer form x a reader, who understands what he feels about himself, since before they were frequently bullied too, giving way for reader having a terrible self esteem and image of themselves, so when they happen to see him in merform, with the knowledge of his own opinions of his merform, theyre actively being incredibly encouraging and affectionate towards him maybe moreso than normal, to show they arent gonna hate him for just being himself

Romantic preferred but go with whatever ya wanna if you do end up writin, have a good day ! :]

Good enough - Azul x Reader

Thank you so much!! I'm really glad you liked it! 🫶 and thanks for the request <3 I hope you like it!

Azul had always been self-conscious about his merform. He’d avoid showing it at any cost, especially to you. The sight of his tentacles felt like a reminder of everything he was insecure about. His mind was quick to dredge up memories of those who had ridiculed him—distant echoes that still haunted him.

But today, fate had conspired against him.

You didn’t mean to stumble upon him while he was in his merform, swimming quietly in a private lagoon, seeking solitude. The moment your eyes met his, Azul froze. Panic coursed through him, and his tentacles twitched in agitation. He wanted to flee, to hide, to get out of sight before you said anything that might sting.

Azul immediately tried to disappear beneath the water, a soft ripple marking where he’d submerged. But you could see the tips of his tentacles, still close to the surface, betraying his location.

“Azul?” you called out gently, trying not to spook him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

A few bubbles rose to the surface. Slowly, his head appeared again, water cascading off his shoulders. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, his eyes averted in shame. “I… didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Neither did I,” you said with a light chuckle, settling yourself by the water's edge. “But since I am, why don’t you talk to me?”

He hesitated, tentacles curling around him protectively. His gaze flickered up briefly before darting back down again. It wasn’t like Azul to look so… vulnerable. You waited patiently, giving him the time to collect his thoughts, refusing to press too hard.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he whispered, “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years. I’ve built myself up to be powerful, untouchable.” He paused, his voice trembling slightly. “But… the bullying… it still got to me more than I’d like to admit.”

The admission felt like it had been pulled from deep within him, something he’d kept buried for far too long. It hurt to hear him speak with such anguish, the usually confident Azul now stripped of his armor.

You slid closer, dipping your feet into the water as if bridging the distance between you could make your words sink deeper. “Azul, that doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less than what you’ve become.”

Azul’s eyes flicked up to you, filled with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. His tentacles, once coiled tightly around him, relaxed just slightly.

“Those people—they didn’t define you. You’ve done that for yourself,” you continued, voice steady and firm. “And you’ve built something incredible, something they could never take from you. But it’s okay if it still hurts. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He was silent for a long moment, letting your words sink in. Slowly, his tentacles began to uncurl further, stretching out in the water like a silent surrender.

“You know, I was bullied too when I was younger."

Azul's gaze flickered, his usual composure faltering. He wasn't expecting that. You had always seemed so confident, so at ease. He could scarcely imagine you feeling the same shame he had once felt.

"I get it. People can be cruel, and they don’t need a good reason to tear you down. I thought it was because something was wrong with me… because I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to be kind."

Azul remained silent, but you saw his posture relax ever so slightly. You continued, voice softer, “But I’m starting to realize… that I’m not what they said I was. And neither are you.”

His tentacles curled in close again, an instinctive defense. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. “And what am I, in your eyes?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide. Someone who’s clever, capable… and worth being proud of. Tentacles or not.”

Azul was staring now, looking for any trace of deception or insincerity in your words. But he found none. Instead, he found your gentle gaze, filled with admiration that made his heart race in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re... not disgusted?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking your heart.

"Disgusted?" You laughed gently. "Azul, no way. Actually..." You leaned in conspiratorially, "I think you look beautiful."

Azul looked at you then, truly looked at you. His eyes were wide with surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Slowly, his lips quirked up into a faint smile, tentative but genuine.

“Beautiful, huh?” he asked softly, a touch of amusement in his tone, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something vulnerable and hopeful.

You smiled back at him. “Absolutely. And, Azul… you don’t have to hide from me. I see you. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never expected to hear words like that, not directed at him, not sincerely. And from you? Someone he held in such high regard? Azul wasn’t sure how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he let your words sink in.

As he studied you—his tentacles uncoiling slowly in the water—you reached out, your hand grazing the smooth surface of one of them. His breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your touch was light, affectionate. Comforting.

For the first time in a long while, Azul felt… accepted. He felt like he didn’t need to hide, not from you. The world might still be cruel, but with you by his side, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.

In a quieter voice, you added with a teasing grin, “Plus, if anyone has a problem with your tentacles, you could just... slap them out of the way, right?”

Azul’s laugh bubbled up unexpectedly—rich and genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both shared a warm silence for a moment before he raised one of his hands from the water. His fingers were delicate and graceful as he reached for yours, gently intertwining them. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze, your voice filled with determination. “You don’t have to thank me, Azul. I’m always going to see you.”

As you sat there, your hand intertwined with Azul's, the world seemed to slow down around you. The soft ripple of the water, the gentle warmth of the sun filtering through the lagoon, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a perfect bubble outside of reality. You couldn’t help but notice the way Azul’s fingers fit so naturally with yours, his touch unexpectedly warm and comforting.

Azul’s gaze was locked on you, something unreadable and intense flickering in his deep blue eyes. His tentacles, which had once been so tightly coiled, now drifted lazily in the water, brushing lightly against your legs. There was a new kind of softness to him, a vulnerability that he’d only ever shown to you.

“You really are something special,” he repeated, this time with a weight that made your heart skip a beat.

His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. The smile on your lips faltered for a moment as the air around you seemed to shift, charged with a sudden tension that was anything but uncomfortable. Azul’s eyes flickered down to your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You’re the only one who’s ever seen me like this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The only one who’s ever made me feel… worthy”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. His words, so genuine and vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, hadn’t anticipated the way your own emotions would swell in response.

“And you…” Azul’s voice softened even more as he met your gaze again, his eyes glinting with something that made your pulse quicken. “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel truly seen.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat where neither of you moved, and yet everything seemed to change. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, the distance between you was closing, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of his presence.

Azul’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light as though you were something fragile, precious. He studied your face with an intensity that made your cheeks heat, his expression soft but filled with something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

Then, before you could process it, Azul gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, almost hesitant at first, as though he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, it felt like everything around you disappeared—the lagoon, the past, the pain of old memories—none of it mattered in that moment.

You responded in kind, leaning into the kiss, your hand tightening around his as if to ground yourself in the reality of it all. His lips were warm against yours, soft and reassuring, and the taste of the sea lingered faintly on them. It was a quiet, tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises and a vulnerability that neither of you had dared show the world before now.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared the same space, the same air. Azul’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes dark and warm with a depth of affection you hadn’t expected to see there.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but unwavering. “Inside and out.”

Azul closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath. When he opened them again, they were filled with something warm and tender, something that made your heart feel like it was swelling in your chest.

“And you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion, “are more than I ever deserved.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Azul, you deserve everything.”

Azul smiled at you, the expression soft and genuine in a way that made your heart flutter. His hand still cradled your cheek, and as he leaned in again, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, you both had finally found something—someone—worth holding onto.

And in that soft, intimate moment, beneath the soft sunlight, it felt as though the walls he’d carefully built around himself were beginning to fall. Not entirely gone, but for the first time, Azul felt he didn’t need them quite as much—not with you here, not with the way you looked at him, like he was something precious.

Masterlist

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun

Previously known as In Times Of Flaring: Here is the official Part one to the series! You can also find it on AO3 I finally made an account!

Take Me To The Sun (846 words) by leftmeinwonderland

The quadrant is in chaos. Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - and all I can think about is they aren’t back. He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me, and for a moment I feel guilty that I feel so out of sorts for not being able to focus on shielding my emotions from her. Her talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlett colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth in agitation. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. 

I reach out to clutch her nose to my chest, needing to feel the warmth of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

I can’t help but think of the moments I last saw him - the fight, the anger. 

****

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. I try to ignore the sting in my chest, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of unshed tears. 

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them” I hiss at him, shrugging my arm away from his hold. Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation she feels at watching me get hurt is almost enough to make her snap her teeth at them both. Garrick’s jaw clenches, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh, snapping as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take when all I want is to want him. To love him.

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts, Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though,” Turning around to follow my Squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my Squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. 

I make my way towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. I shakily smile at her, making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. I can’t bare to watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, but at the same time wanting to protect myself from more heartbreak. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” I quickly scale up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

[orcasoul]

I'll Come Back For You

Summary: Letting go is hard to do for both of you. But as they say, if you love someone, you have to let them go.

Warnings: Death, Grieving, Mention of Injury, Swearing, No Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Word Count: 3,966

Joel sat on the porch swing, staring lovingly at how the late evening rays illuminated the varying deep shades of your hair, how it flowed down past your shoulders and blew gently in the summer breeze. God you're a work of art. He'd taken so much for granted before, but now, every time he casts his gaze upon you he savours each and every second.

The slope of your nose, the faint lines at the corners of your eyes, the few strands that have began to turn grey, even the way you hold yourself. If Joel had his way, these moments would never end. These are the moments when his life makes sense. Where he can breathe and just.... be. Where the gnarled roots of wretched sorrow and anger briefly release their strangling grip on his tormented soul.

In these precious moments, in your presence he can once again feel a spark of life ignite inside him, can almost feel the broken shards of his heart piecing themselves back together. He doesn't care how many times Tommy and Ellie have expressed their concern for his mental well being, or how they've begged him to open up to them and not shut them out. He doesn't need their pity or 'support'. You're all he needs.

"You're staring again," you chuckle, while turning to stare at Joel's warm eyes. A fond smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I guess I am," he replies softly, but his tone is anything but apologetic. "I just can't help it. You're so beautiful." You smile sadly, looking down at Joel's hand. You reach over, instinct and love propelling you to take hold and lace your fingers with his.

But at the last moment, you stop and drop your hand to your lap. There was no need to look at Joel to know the anguish and longing written all over his face. Hell, you feel it too. The deep rooted need to feel each other's skin and warmth is overwhelming for you both. But it's no use. It can't happen now.

"So are you," you whisper affectionately. Your smile fades and Joel furrows his brow in confusion. "You've been awful quiet this evening, sweetheart. Something on your mind?" Joel asks, his voice laced with concern. You close your eyes and sigh. You don't want to answer. You don't want to have to do this, but it's for the best.

This cannot be ignored anymore. You refuse to sit by and watch the man you love retreat further and further into himself, downing in a sea of sorrow. As long as you are here, you are a painful reminder. You had hoped your presence would have helped Joel to come to terms with what happened, reassuring him that it was beyond his control.

There was nothing anyone could have done. But for all your efforts, you can see now that your being here means Joel is stuck in limbo. He needs to find a way forward, to find something to keep fighting for, and you fear that can't happen unless you give him the space grieve and heal.

"Joel...," your voice wobbles as you struggle against the lump in your throat. "It's time. You need to let me go. You have to allow yourself to move on." Joel's soulful brown eyes meet yours, glistening with unshed tears and you feel your heart breaking for him. 'I... I can't," his voice almost sounds pleading, "I can't do this without you."

He desperately wants to hold you, to keep you in his arms forever. He's never loved any woman the way he loves you. Love isn't a strong enough word to describe the depth of his devotion and affection for you. You are (were) his life, his joy, the very beat of his heart, a missing piece of his soul.

He can't do this, not again. How can he even put one foot in front of the other if you are not in step with him? Without you he will remain hollow, aimless, just a simple lifeform existing from one day to the next. You take a shuddering breath, hoping your next words can convince him.

"Yes, you can, baby. You're the strongest person I know. I know it will be hard and I'm sorry... "I"m so sorry it has to be like this-," "Don't," Joel cut you off gently, shaking his head, "You have nothing to apologise for," "Neither do you," you reply, matter of factly. Joel looked straight ahead, his jaw ticking as he tries to tamp down the anger festering away inside of him.

The self loathing he deserves for failing another person he loves. "I should have been there to protect you." "Oh Joel," you sigh, sadly, "How many times do I have to say it? We cannot control everything around us. You need to accept that life has it's own plan and what will happen, will happen. It's. Not. Your. Fault." You enunciate the last sentence with conviction, tears threatening to chock you at the obvious ruination haunting Joel's visage.

Even from his side profile the pain is clearly evident. A moment of silence follows, after which, Joel turns to face you, eyes redened, tears now trailing the curve of his cheeks. "I love you so much," his pained words are barely above a whisper, as if his grief is physically crushing his windpipe. "And I love you. I always have," you reply softly as your own tears begin to fall.

You want nothing more than to comfort him, to take him in your arms and shield him from his suffering, to wipe his tears away and kiss his soft salt and pepper curls. But it's impossible and you feel so helpless, so useless.... and you hate that. How cruel its, to be so close and yet, so far away.

"And that's why...," you take a deep breath, your own sorrow weighing heavily on you with what you now have to do. "I have to go." Joel's eyes widen but before he can protest, you continue, "I'm sorry," the regret choking you is stifling, "I wanted to help you find a way through this, but I can see now that I'm doing more harm than good. You need to be able to mourn, Joel. And you need to accept the love and support of those around you. You still have family here and they want so desperately to help you, but you've pushed them away. I can't bare to see you wasting away like this."

Somewhere, deep down Joel knew that this time would come, he knew you couldn't stay here forever, but how the hell can he let you go? It would be like expecting him to live without breath in his lungs. "Please, y... you can't go..." Joel's voice wavered as he continued., "I... I can't lose you again, sweetheart." You try to reassure him with a gentle smile, "You'll never never truly lose me, darling."

A sad sigh escapes you, "But you will lose yourself if you continue down this path, and I won't let that happen. Ellie and Tommy are so worried about you. You need them, even if you don' realise it." "How am I supposed to live every day without you? I just...," Joel lets out a shaky breath, rubbing his hand over his face, "I Cant. I've lost too much. I can't do it again."

The defeat in Joel's voice, his eyes, his posture causes your gut to twist up. You want to stay, it's tearing you apart inside, feeling as though you're abandoning him in his hour of need. But staying would only make things worse in the long run. Sometimes you have to make difficult decisions for the greater good. It will be hard for him, but he still has so much to live for, so much love to give, even if he's blind to it right now.

"Joel," you began, voice gentle but firm, "You can. The Joel Miller I know can do anything he puts his mind too." A barely visible smile appears at one corner of Joel's mouth, but as soon as it appears, it's gone. "I want you to do something for me, darling," " anything!" Joel replies in earnest. If you could physically caress his cheek right now, you would. It feels so wrong to not be able to touch him. All you can do is shuffle closer and lean into his tired face.

"I want you to promise me that you'll keep going, that you'll allow yourself to feel everything you need to, and that you'll lean on your family. Promise me that you'll live the best life that you can for yourself, for them... and for me, please." Joel is lost for words. He's done a lot of bad things in his life, but he must have done something good at some point for the universe to bring you to him. He doesn't deserve the endless love and concern you continue to bestow upon him, even in death.

Your bright and hopeful eyes bring Joel a sense of clarity. This is the last thing he can do for you, the last thing you'll ever ask of him, and he will do it, for you. No matter how difficult it will be. He suddenly doesn't feel so lost and adrift anymore. You have given him a new purpose. He will honour your last request until his dying breath. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, Joel whispers, "I promise."

You release a sigh of relief, a heavy weight lifted from your shoulders at Joel's reassurance. He'll be alright. "And I promise you, when the time comes, I'll come back for you. One day, we'll be together again. But I have to go now," you pause, trying to fight the tears that threaten to fall again, "I won't say goodbye, cause this isn't goodbye. It's see you later."

Joel swallows the sob trying to climb up his throat. His heart is screaming at him to beg you to stay, but he knows when your mind is made up, it's made up. And you've decided he needs this. As much as he can't fathom not seeing you again for god knows how long, he takes comfort in knowing this separation is temporary. He will hold you again, laugh with you again and spend eternity by your side.

"I love you," Joel sniffled, knowing this is it, woe burying itself deeper into his soul. "I love you too," you declare, devotedly. "see ya later?" The words leave Joel's lips as a hopeful question. "See ya later," you confirm lovingly, and with that you fade into the soft golden twilight.

6 Years Later...

Joel couldn't focus, his eyelids like lead and his body trembling. The voices around him seemed distant and muffled one second, then loud and sharp the next. Throbbing pain bloomed through his torso, exacerbated by each breath he took. "What do you mean there's nothing more you can do?" Was that Tommy? "You can't just give up on him!" Tommy shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and fear.

"I'm so sorry, but all we can do now is try to make him as comfortable as we can." Darkness encompassed Joel as the voices began to fade once more. When his eyes opened again, he's met with the grave faces of Ellie and Tommy. He tries to sit up but his limbs feel too heavy, even turning his head is a challenge, and the oppressive atmosphere shrouding the room tells Joel the situation is... bad.

"What-" "Shhh...," soothed Ellie with tears in her eyes. "You're in the hospital." Joel swallowed thickly, wincing as his body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He slowly turned his head to see Tommy standing at the other side of his bed. His blotchy, tear streaked face caused Joel's stomach to twist up in knots. At that moment, it all came rushing back to him.

The ambush while on patrol with Tommy, the broken baseball bat protruding from him (again), Tommy heaving his battered body onto his own horse so he could keep him upright on the journey back. He's been in dire situations more times than he'd like to remember but this time it's... different, both Tommy and Ellie's sombre mien thickening the atmosphere as every second passes.

And that's when it dawned on Joel; This isn't just bad, this is something he won't come back from. "Tell me...," Joel mumbled, weakly. Tommy cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even, "The uh... the doctor..," Tommy lowered his head, shaking it as if in disbelief. Normally, Joel would snap at Tommy to 'spit it out' whenever he fumbled his words, but not this time. Not when his baby brother is clearly struggling to keep it together.

Tommy sighed, lifting his gaze to meet Joel's. "The doctor said you have internal bleeding and uh... there's nothing more they can do." Nothing more they can do. The words echo loudly in Joel's ears. He's had many close calls over the years. He'd used up his nine lives a long time ago and now his number was up. Our luck had to run out sooner or later. Tess' last words return as a grim reminder of the fragility of life in this world.

A part of Joel always knew he'd meet his end sooner rather than later, but being faced with that reality now.... well, nothing could have ever truly prepared him for this moment, the finality of his tumultuous life. Joel remained still, staring up at the ceiling while it sank in, a barrage of emotions crashing over him, simultaneously; Fear of the unknown, worry for the family he'll leave behind, regret for so many past mistakes, but also... acceptance. After everything he feels unexpectedly ready.

He'd kept his promise to you everyday for the past six years. He'd rebuilt his fragile relationship with Ellie. It took many deep and uncomfortable conversations and he always gave her space when she needed it, but slowly the cracks disappeared and the two became closer than ever, he even became a doting grandpa to JJ and a devoted uncle to Dylan.

The past mistakes with Tommy could never truly be erased, but he and Tommy both came to realise that they couldn't and more importantly, didn't want to dwell on it anymore, even Maria had come to accept Joel and gave him a second chance to start over with no animosity between them. He'd done that for you, just as you'd asked of him. Everyday Joel had kept your memory alive as he'd lived the best life he could, and now he's reached the end.

"Joel...," Ellie's quivering voice broke through Joel's hazy mind. The woefulness behind her tears caused Joel's heart to clench. "Come here, kiddo," comforted Joel as he slowly lifted an arm to embrace his adopted daughter. Her warm tears fell onto his neck as he gently rubbed the back of her head. "It's...okay. It'll be okay," he gulped while trying to be strong for her. "How can it be okay? How will any of us be okay without you?" Ellie wept, voice shaking with each breath.

"You're strong and you h... have people who care about you. Don't make the sa... same mistake I did," Joel told her as he thought about how he spent so long pushing people away. "I love you," she breathed out quietly into his ear, and Joel closed his eyes, sighing in contentment. "I love you too, baby girl. You take good... care of JJ... you hear me?" "I will," Ellie promised. Joel then looked to Tommy, who's head hung low in shame and remorse. "This is my fault," his jaw clenched in anger, the same way Joel's always does, "I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been quicker, should have killed that bastard sooner!"

"Hey...," Joel gently interrupted, "It's not your... fault. We were outnumbered." Tommy shook his head, seemingly unable to accept his failure. "Tommy," Joel began, in a no nonsense tone, causing his brothers' eyes to meet his own, "You got us out... of there and got us home. That's what... matters! So don't you dare b... blame yourself for th... this.

Tommy was speechless for a moment. He grabbed Joel's hand and asksed, "Who's gonna keep my ass in check around here now?" "I'm s...sure Maria has that covered...," it was becoming more difficult for Joel to talk, "and if not this one will do the job," he quipped, pointing to Ellie with a small chuckle but he immediately winced as shooting pains radiated around his lower abdomen. "Easy...," Tommy rested a comforting hand on Joel's shoulder.

As the hours wore on, Joel became weaker, his breathing more laboured. Medication helped to ease the worst of the pain, even though, at first he refused it, insisting that it was pointless to waste it on him. It was only after Ellie had begged him to take it, that he finally relented. Maria and Dina came to say a teary farewell but left the children with a babysitter, as Joel didn't want their last memories of him to be a bruised and bloodied man on his deathbed.

Day bled into night. Ellie and Tommy kept vigil at Joel's bedside while he slipped in and out of consciousness. Joel became even more breathless, his golden hue became pale and clammy. It wouldn't be long now. A sombre silence filled the air, holding more weight than any words could. But even if Joel wanted to speak, he found he suddenly lacked the strength to even open his mouth. An exhaustion he'd never experienced before swept over him like a warm blanket, along with a bone deep, desperate need to sleep. Just for a bit. I'll sleep just for a bit.

"Joel?..." a warm hand on his cheek and a soft voice he'd know anywhere, resounded in his ears like a sweet melody. His eyes shot open and he gasped in shock as he took in the image of you standing beside him and... touching him! Maybe he's dreaming? "Hi, baby," you smiled down at him with tears in your eyes, stroking his patchy jaw, tenderly. "You're here," he sputtered in disbelief.

"I promise I'd come back for you," you replied soothingly. And that's when Joel knew without a doubt he's not dreaming. As if on instinct Joel reached for your hand, clasping it in his own, bringing it to his mouth and pressed his lips to your soft palm. "I missed you," he cried, unable to believe that the moment he's waited years for is finally upon him. How he missed your delicate touch.

He'd dreamed of your embrace every night for the past six years, and now at long last, it's real. Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling himself up, the absence of pain and the rejuvenation of his 'body', another confirmation of his new reality. Joel wastes no time pulling you into his broad chest and you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You breathe in his woodsy and coffee scent, while at the same time Joel's nose buries itself in your hair, slowly inhaling your scent, one hand splayed across your back and the other cupping the back of your head. Tears stream down both of your faces as years of longing and loneliness come to an end. Now only forever awaits. "I missed you too," you wept, "So much." "I did it, darling. I did it all for you, every day," Joel whispered into your ear. You pull back, enough to look into his eyes, eyes filled with relief and love.

Gently holding his cheek, you reply, "I know. And I'm so proud of you. Now you can rest, my love." As the tears begin to dry and emotions calm somewhat, Joel realises you two weren't the only one's crying. Turning around his heart sinks and chest tightens as he has to witness Tommy holding a sobbing Ellie, while his own tears silently fall. On the bed, Joel's body lies motionless, drained of colour but with a serene peace adorning his relaxed features.

He remains frozen to the spot, wide eyed until you slip your hand into his, giving him a supportive 'I'm here' squeeze. "They'll be okay." You smooth your other hand up and down his arm. "They have each other and their families. They'll take care of them. And when the time comes, we'll all be together again." Joel answers with a silent nod, squeezing your hand in return. You know Joel through and through, and you know that he's always taken it upon himself to care for and protect those he loves.

But now that responsibility is his his no more. It'll be hard for Joel to relinquish said responsibility, which has been the staple in his life, but he has faith in Tommy, knowing he'll look after Ellie. They're family, blood or not. He can rest in that knowledge. "Joel...," he brings his attention back to you, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the smile plastered across your face. "I brought someone with me. Someone who has been waiting a long time to see you again."

Realisation of whom you are referring to flashes across Joel's face, but before the name can pass his lips, he hears the sweetest, most perfect voice say the word he hasn't been called in over twenty years. "Dad...," With bated breath, Joel slowly turned around, his mind struggling to function properly. There she is! His baby girl, standing in front of him, just as beautiful as he'd remembered her.

"Sarah...," Joel whispered in awe, frozen to the spot where he stood. 'Hi, old man," she smiled as she closed the gap between them. Her close proximity snapped Joel out of his statue like stance, quickly pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly to his chest. "I missed you," she cried into his chest, while wrapping her arms around his waist. "I missed you too," Joel choked out, "It's okay baby girl, I'm here, I'm here," he comforted her as his own tears joined hers.

He tenderly drew her head back, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes absorbing every beautiful inch of her features; Her expressive eyes that has passed onto her, that killer smile he'd always thought of so fondly, the blush of pink that always tinted her cheeks. God how he'd missed her. "You're grey," Sarah teased through her tears, running her fingers through his soft curls.

Joel chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth and admiration. "Your beautiful." He pulls her in for another hug and turns his head to you. You are crying silent, happy tears for them both. Joel reaches out, silently beckoning you over. With his daughter under one arm and the woman he loves under the other, he now feels complete.

His post cordyceps life has led to this very moment, to be with the people he loves the most. Of course his heart aches at the thought of leaving Tommy and Ellie behind, but it won't be forever. You're right. It's his time to rest. Sarah takes his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing over the scars on his knuckles. "Let's go home," she said, softly, "We have much to talk about."

With one last glance over his shoulder and a nod of confirmation, Joel is ready. A bright mist hovers where a wall should be, a calm and quiet ambience emanating from within. Together, with linked hands the three of you slowly disappear as you walk through the veil into forever.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

you’re so evil. i have to draw him now. i have to. it would be a betrayal of my very being if i didnt. i’ll never forgive you for this /lh /j

affectionately throwing error!nine in the salad spinner with dream and nightmare

I am very glad I get to cause you such mental anguish :D

[stedefxckingbonnet]

hello hello! i don’t think i’ve seen anything like this yet, so may i request izzy x gn!reader who’s a bit insecure?

maybe they struggle with body image or something and izzy is basically like “how are they so blind??” but he struggles to express it because he’s never had to be so soft for anyone?

of course, ignore it if you’re not comfortable with it! :)

Hi, everyone!!

So, it's been a while. And I mean, a while. Longer than I wanted to step away from writing, and I never really wanted to step away from it in the first place but some stuff happened and yada yada. But I'm truly, truly hoping to be back and writing again to some capacity, I have truly missed writing for Izzy and for you all and I feel as though the world needs Izzy Hands content now more than ever! I truly do hope to be back.

I hope you don't mind that I put my own spin onto this, anon! You provided the lovely central plot and idea, and I simply provided an atmosphere and story to go with. Body image/insecurity is something I struggle with too, no matter how many times people tell me that I am beautiful, and I tried to channel that in this one. I am also not trying to send the message that other people's validation is what can make a person feel better about themself! I am more so trying to convey that the one(s) we love can often show us things about ourselves that we didn't know were there or didn't see before, and that they help us to love and appreciate these things about ourselves, and ourselves in general. You all who are reading this are so, so wonderful and beautiful and extraordinary even if you have a hard time believing it, and maybe your comfort character can help you to believe it a bit more in this little fic♡

Anyhow, please, request! Don't hesitate! My messages are also always open for anyone who needs anything but also just to say hi or talk about anything really. Thank you all for your everlasting support, patience, and kindness especially through my sort of absence ♡ Also, please, if I have used your gif or you know who created it, please credit yourself or them! I am not always good at figuring that sort of stuff out, but I want to give credit where credit is due. Have a wonderful day (or night), everyone!

Love,

Lavinia

What I See | Izzy Hands x Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, slight swearing, struggles with body image and insecurity, very direct izzy (in a good, affectionate way but may be inaccurate ish? but i believe it isn't)

Word Count: 2525

"I just don't understand it!" the first mate angrily threw his hands up in the air. "I just don't understand why Bonnet is dragging us to one of those stupid...fancy people gatherings."

You couldn't help but laugh at such a sight, seeing Izzy Hands so distraught, though his usual cloud of anguish didn't seem to surround him. This was different, something you couldn't exactly place, but it was endearing nonetheless. "A ball, you mean?" your lips curled into a playful smile.

"I don't care what it's called," Izzy grumbled. "All I know is that I don't want to be there."

"It could be fun!" you suggested, your smile growing larger.

"Has Bonnet brainwashed you somehow?" Izzy rolled his eyes, but for just a moment, maybe, you could have sworn you saw a smile on the first mate's visage.

"If worse comes to worse, there'll be plenty of alcohol to drink," you laughed, softly squeezing Izzy's shoulder. Subtle touches like these between the two of you were second nature, almost instinctual, yet you were certain Izzy didn't make much of it and plainly saw them as something friendly. You almost sighed at such a thought.

And perhaps you had your own motives for wanting to drag Israel Hands along to such an event. Perhaps it gave you an excuse to hold him close to you without him suspecting a single thing, just that it was all custom meant to be followed in such a setting. You thought maybe, just maybe, it would be the opportune night to spend some more time with Izzy, just the two of you in the moonlight, dancing and chatting the night away, cheek to cheek...

"Fancy people alcohol," Izzy groaned in response, snapping you out of your daydream, to which luckily, he didn't notice you had slipped into in the first place.

"It's better than nothing," you rolled your eyes playfully. "Now, come on. Bonnet's got some fabrics for us to borrow, he says. I've come to fetch you," you now smiled teasingly.

"Oh, joy!" Izzy exclaimed sarcastically, yet he still followed your lead.

The only reason he was even remotely tolerating the night ahead was to be able to find himself closer to you, away from the chaos of The Revenge and all else it had to offer. Spending a night with you wouldn't be dreadful in the slightest for Izzy, and had you not been attending at all, he wouldn't even hesitate to let Ed and Stede go off to this awful event by themselves. But even Stede knew that your presence was enough to get Izzy to agree to such a thing, and really, what could be more convincing than you?

Before Izzy could comprehend it, your figure was wrapped in an ethereal ensemble. You studied yourself in the mirror, a frown naturally falling upon your face, though it quickly faltered as he came into view.

By the sea gods, you looked astonishing. Izzy already knew you would be the most bewitching of the ball, and that perhaps he would have to compete with other awful suitors of high society to even just get a moment alone with you. He almost became troubled at the thought, but your unmatched beauty was enough to distract him from such a notion. You had taken his breath away and this wasn't exactly a feeling he was used to, though it wasn't one that he disliked. No, not at all. In fact, he could get used to this, and he wanted to. Even though his own reflection stood right before him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He never could have fathomed until he met you that someone could be so breathtaking, so...alluring.

But all you were thinking about is how your clothing seemed to accentuate all of the wrong features, in your eyes.

'And the color—it washes me out, doesn't it?' you thought to yourself, almost fighting back tears.

Finally, Izzy spoke, though he immediately regret doing so. "Will you be comfortable?" He almost began to scold himself. 'That's all you have to say? This attractive person is standing right beside you and that's all you can manage to say?'

"Oh, yes. I've got plenty of moving room," you assured him, doing your best to step out of your own head for a moment. You even tried to shoot him a convincing smile. "I'll be just fine."

Finally, your eyes wandered over to his image, instead of focusing either at your own reflection or onto the ground. You felt your face becoming warm as you caught a glimpse of the man before you—how he was transformed, yet, still the Izzy Hands you knew and loved. Only elevated, and even more enchanting than usual. Your jaw almost dropped to the ground.

"What? I look fucking dumb, don't I?" Izzy laughed annoyedly.

"No! No, Izzy, you look..."

Before you could finish your statement, Stede rushed in. "You two ready to go? Oh, look at the two of you! You look divine!"

You looked over at Izzy, sending a supportive, yet spirited smile his way. Izzy couldn't help but return the sentiment as the two of you were ushered off of the ship and into another realm unbeknownst to the both of you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Some of the sweetest melodies you had ever heard began to surround you as you stepped into the ornately decorated room. You could hardly believe how much space there was in just one part of this residence, and that it was dedicated for dancing and other sorts of happenings similar to these. Before you knew it, for just a moment, you succumbed to your wonder of what having a life like this would entail, though you were quickly reminded of your distaste towards it when you saw a woman weeping and being chased out of the room by a man screaming extreme obscenities toward her. You and Izzy slowly looked toward one another in disbelief, the both of you fighting off laughter.

"It's not too late to get out of here," Izzy whispered.

You rolled your eyes with that same familiar grin this action always seemed to come with. "We're hardly even here."

Defeated, Izzy sighed and slumped against a wall, though quickly coming off it as soon as he spotted Stede glaring daggers at him from across the room. Another sigh escaped his lips, and you burst into a fit of laughter, unable to contain yourself. As annoyed as Izzy was at what just happened, your laughter was an antidote, and he was certainly taking it in.

Though, his newfound smile quickly faltered when he noticed a handsome stranger eyeing you from a few feet away. But you didn't even notice that someone else had noticed you—you only cared if the man in front of you had, and he seemed to be occupied by something else.

"Iz?" you asked in confusion. "What is it?"

Without another word, Izzy motioned his head to the side, to which you finally noticed the attention of another that you had captured.

"And?" you shook your head, unsure of what Izzy had been insinuating.

"He wants to dance with you," Izzy pointed out, rolling his eyes without realizing. "And you should have some fun. Don't let me hold you back."

You opened your mouth to speak in protest, but quickly closed it once again. How would you admit, in the midst of a stuffy room with a plethora of people you don't know who are all dancing and speaking at the top of their lungs, that all you had looked forward to this evening was to sharing a dance with Izzy Hands and no one else? That it was the only reason you even considered forcing yourself into an outfit that made you feel bad about yourself, even worse than you already do, and surrounding yourself with a million strangers whilst doing it? The thought alone sounded like a nightmare, but with Izzy by your side, it sounded like a dream come true. But Izzy was pushing you toward this stranger before you could comprehend it, and then you watched Izzy's figure disappear slowly into the distance as you were whisked away.

"I've never seen you here before," the stranger pointed out. "And if I had, I think I'd remember a beautiful person such as yourself."

These words made your insides twist. Your companion spoke with sincerity, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. 'He's just being polite,' you told yourself, brushing it off.

"It's been a few years," you lied, not wanting to blow your cover, or especially Stede's cover, as you were sure he wasn't exactly welcomed back into an environment such as this. "I don't usually speak to many."

"Well, isn't it my lucky day then?" he laughed. "No one here even compares to you. You are something special. What did you say your name was?"

But before the perhaps unlucky stranger knew it, you were nowhere to be found. You kept running until your environs became darker, and the moon was your only source of light. You leaned against the railing of a balcony, your vision blurred by tears. You flinched upon feeling a hand on your shoulder, but quickly relaxed once you noticed out of your periphery that it was none other than Izzy's touch.

"Did he offend you? I swear, I'll have his head before he can even fucking think of using it again—"

"No, no. He didn't. It's fine, really," you shrugged, blinking back tears to the best of your ability. But even the darkness of the night failed to hide your misery. Izzy softened upon noticing your state.

"What is it?" he asked, concern dripping from his voice as he looked at you intently. You stared at your hands gripping the railing, but you quickly tore your eyes away from that sight and stared out into the night.

"I—This is why I didn't want to come tonight!" you exclaimed.

"You—but you were so—"

"Excited? Yeah, right," you laughed sadly, shaking your head.

"What is it?" Izzy repeated, worry written all over his face. "Are you sure I don't need to behead anyone?"

Another laugh escaped you. "No, Izzy. He—he said I was beautiful. That's not a crime."

"He wasn't wrong," Izzy shrugged, a small smile making its way onto his face. With this, you couldn't help but meet Izzy's eyes, and you couldn't help but return a smile. Though quickly, it vanished, and your original demeanor overtook you once again.

"He was though," you protested. "This is why I don't like coming to these things. Squeezing myself into these clothes."

"I know these clothes are a bit ridiculous," Izzy laughed. "But yet you still manage to be so...beautiful."

Your heart began to do pirouettes inside your chest. For once in your life, part of you believed such a statement could be directed toward yourself. But Izzy could see the plagued expression on your face.

"You don't believe me?"

You shook your head as you finally allowed tears to fall down your face and drip onto your chest. Izzy frowned and took a few steps closer to you so as to gently wipe away your tears with his thumb, though his hand lingered for a moment longer, caressing your cheek as he was about to speak.

"You could be covered in dirt and I'd still find you beautiful," Izzy assured you. "You know, when I first saw you, I knew even then that you were. And you become more so every single day. You are the most enchanting person I've ever crossed paths with and laid my eyes upon. And there's so many things about the world I find are awful to have to experience and look at, but not you. You're the opposite of everything that's wrong with the world."

Sobs escaped your chest as you fell into Izzy's arms, to which he instinctively caught you, engulfing you carefully in his arms. He softly wrapped his fingers in your hair as he held you. 'I am holding the world in my arms right now,' he thought to himself, and thank the sea gods your face was buried into the crook of his neck and you couldn't see the grin that conquered his lips.

As for you, you never believed it when anyone else said these sorts of things to you. You found it impossible to believe these things about yourself; there were even days where you'd purposefully avoid any sort of reflective surface just to ensure that you don't break down. Sometimes, you couldn't even bear to look at yourself. But hearing Izzy declaring all of this to you—for the first time, perhaps you would actually be able to believe it.

Your silence made beads of sweat form atop Izzy's temple, but he didn't dare let you go to wipe them away. You clung onto him tighter, which only thawed Izzy's heart even more. He couldn't believe all that he just said, even though it was all true, and your lack of a response made his heart race even more.

"You are beautiful," Izzy repeated as he melted into your embrace, and embraced the shared silence. Something about it was comforting in a way he had never experienced before. If he could, he would exist in this moment forever.

Finally, you slowly pulled away, though your hands still clung onto the first mate's arms, and your faces were a short distance away from one another. At the same time, the two of you leaned in to close said distance between the two of you, and all bits of yearning, desire, love, and desperation poured out into this moment. Even without Izzy's words, he had already managed to make you feel lovely in every way even just by him being around. He was the one person who managed to help you see what was so amazing about yourself. You quickly melted into the sudden collision of your lips and he kissed you with a fervor that you had been craving from him for as long as you could remember. You smiled against his lips, and once air became scarce, the two of you simultaneously sought it. Once you both pulled apart for air, a collective joyous laugh filled both of your ears.

"I only wanted to come to this stupid thing because you'd be here," you admitted, and you were sure your cheeks were as red as the roses in the garden that surrounded you.

Izzy couldn't help but smile. "I wasn't going to come until Bonnet mentioned you would be. I meant what I said, you know. You are beautiful, and I'm sorry, but you're fucking dumb if you don't see that."

You threw your head back as you laughed before meeting Izzy's gaze once again. "You are so beautiful," Izzy repeated once again, all teasing aside to show his sincerity. You reached for his hand and squeezed it tenderly as the two of you looked out into nighttime, but all Izzy could focus on was how even more ravishing you looked as the moon illuminated your face.

[borgialucrezia]

ok we talked too much about showtime's the borgias, cesare/juan's cain and abel parallels, the murder of juan, and how the fratricide's aftermath affected the depiction of cesare's story. but can we now talk about the real historical cesare and how much he adored juan, despite his flaws? the fact is, even when he scolds him and shows his outright disbelief in him in their letters to each other, he does it with calmness, affection, and a sense of humor? when juan was appointed as the papal army leader, cesare's response letter to juan was delightful, specifically that part when he was like, "i am all the more happy for the very great love i have for you." and the fact he signs his letter to him with "from your brother who loves you as he loves himself" (which was used in a negative context in the borgias), while juan signs his letter to cesare with "from your obedient brother, duke of gandia." cesare was never condescending to juan and he had never reprimanded him. in fact, he has always gently guided him into behaving better with a direct tone.

after juan's sudden assassination, it wasn't just their father who fell into a paroxysm of grief. cesare was also affected, as he became too bitter and anguished. the untimely fate of his brother caused him such a psychological complex for the rest of his life that he became the cruelest man in italy, but his state became troubled. especially after he inherited a position that was previously held by his brother before his violent death, which caused him to have dark premonitions and anxieties about suffering a similar fate.

there's also an interesting line from gustavo sacerdote's (an italian essayist) biography, in one of his lines, there are moments about cesare's manners and methods toward his family: "the letter from cesare borgia is also interesting from another side. it is one of the few pieces of writing from his private and family correspondence that have come down to us; [...]we want to stick to the words contained in it, the fraternal love that flows from it, from the first to the last word, shows us an affectionate, effusive cesare, full of tenderness for his younger brother, very different from the grim borgia, which from history usually appears before our eyes."

[baldurs-writers-3]

This week, our theme is Hurt/Comfort! Check under the cut for 8 fics that include a lot of emotional and/or physical anguish chased by that sweet sweet comfort! And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Be Worth Something by Masterangst12 (4445,Not Rated) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Tav (named Axel) gives Astarion a present, a thoughtful gesture and Astarion sucks it up and returns the kindness by learning to comfort someone else for once.

Reccer says: Handles the drop of emotional hurt well, and the hike of soft comfort afterwards perfectly

do you think you'd manage? by ApatheticRobots (4233,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Blurg/Omeluum

After the Iron Throne, Omeluum is doing fine. Blurg can't help but be skeptical. But maybe he's just projecting.

Reccer says: I am so soft for the research husbands and this fic captures them wonderfully

Clive by QueenOfCats135 (868,General) Warnings: Grieving, death of a parent Pairings: Karlach & Arabella

Karlach and Clive the teddy bear comfort Arabella after her parents’ deaths.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Roll for sex: Natural one - critical failure by Gally (4596,Mature) Warnings: CW vague discussions of past abuse Pairings: Astarion/Karlach (Baldur's Gate)

Astarion's PTSD gets in the way of wanted sexy times with Karlach. He is a mopey self hating brat about it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

blood like wine by fingonsradharp (3637,Teen) Warnings: general warnings for both astarion and durge Pairings: Astarion/the Dark Urge, Astarion & the Dark Urge

Astarion’s hunger overcomes him and he tries to bite the dark urge. It immediately backfires and then is somehow not as bad as he thought it would be.

Reccer says: I liked it!

On Mortals and Immortals by countconiine (2368,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Gale & Isobel, Isobel/Dame Aylin

Gale is trying hard to understand what went wrong with him and Mystra, and Isobel has some words to comfort him.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Stranger to Myself by CloverElf (1125,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Wyll & Tav

The morning after Wyll's transformation, he's trying to convince himself it's no big deal. Avani, a wood elf fighter, reveals she knows a little something about feeling like your body isn't your own.

Reccer says: I love any fic that explores the emotional fall out of Wyll's transformation, but having a trans Tav talk to him about her experiences makes this fic even better

And then we have two recs for A Harlot's Rest by CestPasDuBaudelaire (67371,Explicit) Warnings: Rape, past abuse mentions Pairings: Astarion & Halsin, Astarion & Everyone

Astarion is raped on the road before they get to Baldur's gate. He is 100% fine and not traumatized this or anything else that ever happened to him ever.

Reccer #1 says: A really detailed and sad view of how Astarion would respond to a past trauma visiting him in his new free life, without taking away what makes him Astarion. If you just focus on his actions and not the storm inside of him he still is as snarky and all as ever. Reccer #2 says: Would you like an achingly realistic and authentic exploration of unpacking years of chronic trauma and all of the messy thoughts and actions that come with it? Would you like to then have the comfort of seeing it handled lovingly and patiently by some incredibly written found family? Lastly, would you like to cry a lot (affectionate)? If yes, read this!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! 

Next week, we’ll be back with Angst Fics!

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hey, I am 4 months clean of self harm, and I know it may not seem very big, but it's very huge for me. I recently read your post with Academy Au! Obanai and the reader being his favorite student and I was wondering if I can request the same au with Obanai finding out the reader self harms and helps her to get clean?

If not please ignore, and I am so sorry if I requested something you do not do

Omfg. I’m so sorry! No, it’s so big! I’m so glad that you’re okay now, darling! I will always do this for representation of the ones who have suffered. Please keep it up, darling. I am sending you all my loves!

Iguro Obanai- Sheathed Blade

Obanai always suspected something was off with the way you purposefully hid your wrists and arms from him. Even in the hottest weathers, you refused to take off your uniform jacket and he could actively see you suffering the effects of the heat. Obanai was curious on what was going on but he didn’t want to pry into your personal life

Rather, you be his favourite student or not. One that he helps with his subject Chemistry the most and he grown to truly appreciate your upbeat, sweet personality. Such respect and competence is very rare for his classes and he wants to help you graduate to the greatest of his ability

Obanai, out of pure respect for you, decided to try his best to ignore your arm-covering habits in assumption that you had some uncomfortable scars from your childhood you didn’t want to show. He could relate to that concept and view so he just went under that image without asking you

However… that would change permanently when you approached him during lunch

On the near end of the lunch hour, you knocked gently on the chemistry lab’s closed doors where Obanai examined through the big piles of tests for his three classes. The man flinched in irritation whilst Kaburamaru curled around from laying his cold scaly head on Obanai’s warm fluffy black hair. The snake’s bright red eyes glared at the door, making out your shape as Obanai followed his dear friend’s

Obanai recognises that stiletto, that hairstyle from anywhere as he slowly rises from his chair and approaches the door with a rather bland expression. That expression shifted to extreme concern when he heard your voice… not speaking. No. Crying. He practically tore the door open to meet your eyes. Your hands covering your face as you sobbed through your palm’s skin

Obanai didn’t hesitate to bring you into his classroom as he knew well he was the only teacher who would hear you out at this time with every other being pre-occupied with their own duties or others being far too cruel. Obanai was your favourite after all and you trusted him, all the leaps and bounds he took to make sure you would get a good grade in both chemistry and every other of the Academy’s subjects

He was the only adult you could turn to for help with your problem… your horrible problem

As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Obanai’s waist and cried heavily into his stomach. It felt strange, like a brick wall but you didn’t really care, you just wanted comfort as you felt immense guilt and anguish for your actions flood in. You can’t take this anymore… you need help and you knew it. You just couldn’t help yourself with your habits

Cutting

Obanai didn’t even hesitate to hug you back as his arms comfortable wrap around you, a hand climbing up your back to stroke through your hair before he spoke in a soft, comforting tone. “Dokusha… what’s wrong?”

Even from behind that surgical-like mask, you could just feel his affectionate smile for you. He felt a strange daughter-like bond to you, he wanted to protect you so anytime the students of his class tried to call you a ‘teachers’ pet’

He lashed out at those pairs of useless blood sacks with not a single thought to make sure you could continue to work in safety. You deserve respect and care, no matter what. “I-I-I-Iguro-sama… I-I need help! P-please! Help! H-help me!” You sobbed and hiccuped through your words, your poor bright eyes faint and the puffy redness cracked his heart apart

“Talk to me… I’m here”

“I-Iguro-sama… I-I need help…”

You whispered back on a helpless voice as you untangled your arms with a pained flinch and hesitantly revealed your wrists once you pulled the double-layers of your skin. Obanai’s heterochromia of turquoise and yellow widened in horror at what he saw… he should have pried into your problem sooner, how could he wait for so long?!

Cuts… so many cuts down your skin. Bleeding cuts at your arteries… the blood stained your uniform sleeves a bit… no bullies would do this. You did this… you’re harming yourself?!

Obanai didn’t dare to touch your wrists as you continued to cry helplessly. The amount of courage you had to reveal yourself to him; he was so proud and so happy that you showed him, he must help you under every circumstance as he smiles softly at you, his mask hid that gesture but his gorgeous mismatched eyes sparkled with a needed comforting warmth that crashed over you

Obanai gently took your smaller hands in his, making sure your eyes met his. Your vision was blurry and full of tears as he spoke in such a gentle voice and so carefully, as to not make you feel any more further shame in yourself. Kaburamaru hissed and slithered towards your face through a smoothed wave in the air, the snowy white serpent wanted more than anything to lick your face to comfort you

And needless to say that after this little event. Obanai did and he almost sacrificed his job to make sure you would recover, brought you to the attention of Lady Amane, spent hours talking with your parents, rearranged a therapist for you and had you stay inside his classroom for the whole day. Just so he could watch over you and protect you further

“Don’t worry, Dokusha… I will get you help, I promise you’re not alone. I will protect you but please… give me the blade you used”

[epiicaricacy-arts]

i loooove morally dubious queer people ‼️

i had to draw this weird little animation they have bc it’s so silly and i love the energy. i don’t think i captured it well enough (this is my excuse to do sketch pages) but i tried 🫡

i’m still insane about this game hi. i don’t own it so i’ve just been watching secret sleepover society and i am in anguish. i need to know more about this little weirdo (affectionate) but i am also terrified to find out their backstory.

i came across a spotify playlist on accident and i’m horrified with the implications with the addition of “cabinet man” by lemon demon and a LOT of ghost and pals. please don’t tell me but do expect me to come in crying when it happens.

[betterfettered]

I love your yandere Lucifer... Maybe I have a defective survival instinct, but I have heart eyes for that micro-managing maniac. If you would indulge my curiosity, how would his yandere obsession develop after he falls in love? Would he immediately try to take control of his darling and their life as soon as he realizes his feelings, or would it happen slowly throughout their "relationship" as he gets more and more demanding?

Hello beautiful sweet anon! I am so glad you love my yandere Lucifer 🥺💖 I got another ask that's a little similar to yours from another beautiful sweet anon

Could you do NSFW headcanons of Lucifer? Please, spill the tea! 😳 Is he always rough with his darling, or does he have a sweet spot for an obedient little darling~ 😇 or perhaps he's extra rough when he's feeling affectionate? 😈 Would he seduce them or take them by force? As intimidating as he is, we all know how persuasive this sexy, sexy bastard can be! It's part of the charm. If you cannot tell I thirst heavily for this devil of a man, insane or not (though I will admit I prefer him insane 😉)

So I'll group them together into a list of Lucifer HCs!! 🧚🏿‍♀️

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere)(dubcon)(bdsm)(Descriptions of sort of dom/sub relationships that are not sane, and only maybe safe or consensual.)(18+ readers only please, mdni)[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life. If you were to have a relationship with someone like this, they wouldn't be your dom, they would be an abuser.]

• How would his yandere obsession develop after he falls in love? I think it would be a number of factors mixing over time rather than an immediate shift, but when he finally reflects on how his personality has changed, he would just decide to commit to it. To explain a bit more: I think after falling for you, he would develop a protective impulse over you. But he's always busy with work, and while he's away his brothers are always taking you to do dumb or dangerous things (what he thinks is dangerous can be subjective and dependant on his mood). That would stress him out, so soon he would start imposing rules on what you can and can't do. Since the brothers really cannot help themselves, they'd probably always be getting punished for things. They never learn their lesson anyway, so no harm done on their end, but any sense of guilt or anguish you felt over always getting them in trouble would gratify Lucifer. Hurting others is a significant deterrent for you, and he has no problem doing it, so he can just cut out the middle man and tell you what he'll do to your friends if you keep acting out. Of course, your friends are his brothers, so when he starts saying such things, he'll wonder what he's thinking/feeling that's driving this violent and controlling urge. Once he realized the true nature of his feelings, he'd commit to them and just announce that you're to be his future spouse and obey everything he says, and that's that.

• That isn't to say you aren't getting your own punishments that whole time. He has a lot of "games" he likes to play, but many of them revolve around keeping you in anticipation. He'll blindfold you and nudge your face with a riding crop, fluff your hair with it, stroke your spine, and then whip your ass with it so hard that you can't breathe. Then, pause, gently poke your nose with it, run it under your chin, and chuckle to himself when it makes you flinch.

• He also likes to force you to take part in the design of whatever he's doing. He'll ask if you want to be on all fours or kneel, tell you to pick which flogger he uses, or ask how many times you think he should hit you (it's a trick question: if you pick fewer, he'll just do it harder to make up for it).

• He always leaves you covered in marks, announcing his claim to you, but never leaves make up streaked down your face by tears.

• He likes blowjobs, but they're not his favorite. He wants to be more active and command the situation, while blowjobs feel too passive. Now, face fucking on the other hand? One of his favorite ways to punish you for speaking out of turn. He'd never admit it because it's so sloppy, but if he fucked your face hard enough that you puked he'd feel quite accomplished. It's another side of you he forced out with his actions alone.

• He doesn't really feel the need to seduce you, because things will end the same regardless. He takes great pride in knowing your body and what you like, because it makes him feel more like you belong to him and will do/feel as he says, so he's going to make you unintelligible whether you want him to or not. You are his. What you have to say doesn't matter.

• Clenching his teeth onto your jugular is the way he feels most secure, the way he feels most like you are his. Affection drives him a little crazy because he has a hard time just blurting out how he's crazy about you, so it does come out it how hard he grips your face to make you look at him, how hard he fucks you with your face pressed into his desk, how much he bends your body this way and that way to the limits of your flexibility. So yes, he'd almost always rough in handling you.

• If you climb on his lap, undress him, and cover him in kisses, he will melt for you like chocolate in your fingertips, but in return he'll run his hands over your body and finger you until you lose your composure, at which point you'll find yourself beneath him in a flash. It won't take long before you hear the rattle of handcuffs, feel his hot breath on your spine...

• That being said, if he's feeling so loving that he wants gentler sex, he'd be so hesitant and blushy that you would feel like you're fucking a virgin.

• Loves when you say his name or beg him to stop by his name, though he'll always react with another lash, telling you to call him "sir".

• Besides really filthy talk, he's not very vocal in bed. You'd know he's cumming because of his fingers digging into your flesh hard and his body grinding against yours at an irregular pace.

• I'm sorry but I am legally obligated to say that yes he'd fuck you in front of diavolo if the situation called for it

Yes anons no anons? Is crazy ass Lucifer still the man of your dreams?

Slowly starting to clear out the inbox, so don't be shy, send more asks 🙇🏿‍♀️

[museofreverie]

Chapter 04 ⋆ Just a Very Long Dream

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.4k words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏.

"OUCH, MY BACK."

          The words rolled out from your tongue after rolling your neck sideways and stretching your back. All of a sudden, your mother's words about your posture echoed in your head.

          You look like a shrimp. Sit straight, will you?

          Your eyes rolled at the truthfulness of this thought. "Damn, I really do need to stretch again and fix my posture."

          As you stretched your arms above your head and got up from your chair, you took a deep breath. Your muscles became tense, so you flexed and rotated each limb, hearing the sound of breaking joints. With a sigh, you raised your hands to your chest and flexed and extended them until you heard a pleasant crack reverberate through your fingertips.

          You looked over to your table and the thought of doing your academic responsibilities immediately made you whine.

          "I don't want to study."

          Your mind was dead tired, and all you wanted to do was to go back to bed. You stifled a yawn and rubbed your eyes with your fingertips, evident that exhaustion was catching up with you.

          No classes tomorrow, you thought to yourself. I'm just gonna take a quick nap before I read fanfics later.

          Your head bobbed. A quick nap. Yeah, that seemed like a good plan.

          You walked towards your bed, finally succumbing to the thought of lying down, and relaxed against the soft pillow. You shifted to a more comfortable position, adjusting the position of your pillow and the soft fabric of your blanket that brushed lightly against your skin.

          Ah, finally I can rest!

          Soon after, your dog followed you and climbed into your bed to rest beside you. "Don't pee here, okay?" you warned your dog who just finished digging on the sheets. They looked at you with ears deflated, as if they understood what you said. Because of this, a chuckle escaped your lips and you gave your dog an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

          A second passed. Another second. And then a minute.

          Right now, you were just waiting for this day to pass by. The atmosphere in your room was solely existential anguish. Almost every second felt like you were stuck in the walls of a prison that you could never escape as you stared endlessly into the empty abyss that was your ceiling.

          Great. Another existential crisis.

          This was basically your daily routine ever since quarantine started. You knew that deep inside of you, the blazing flame to keep on going that you ignited was slowly dimming. Was it even worth it to keep on going? To continue studying when your future is uncertain?

          You're still young and still have a long way to go, yet why does it feel like you're running out of time already? You didn't want to think about deadlines anymore. You just wanted to take a pause. To exist quietly.

          Absent-mindedly, you frowned at the thought and your mood immediately turned into moroseness. You just wanted to get rid of this heaviness inside your chest.

          You groaned. "Why am I always like this? Life is not even daijoubu anymore."

          And so because of that, your fingers found their way gliding across your phone's screen, searching for the perfect softly haunting tune to play as your background noise.

          Well, you know what they say. Don't suffer in silence; at least try to play some background music.

          As the music began to play from the streaming app, you felt like you had been transported into a movie, with the soundtrack of your soul playing out in the background. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt in the music, feeling a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you all at once. The tune entered your mind like a siren's call, drawing you ever-increasingly deeper into the pit of unconsciousness. Your eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing second, and at last, your body gave in and succumbed to blissful slumber.

          From the depths of your sleep, it was all pitch black. Just pure darkness that enveloped you like a thick blanket, heavy and still.

          And then slowly, the dreams came.

          At first, a blinding light illuminated the dark abyss of your mind. Line after line of light slowly morphed into a luminous worm-like creature that glowed—and the version of you in this dream could feel yourself slipping into the endless depths of water towards it. But before you collided with the creature, it then changed to the image of a thick and sprawling tree of luminescence with the intensity of a thousand suns, stretching up toward an infinite sky and reaching without limits.

          You thought there was something almost mystical about the tree. It seemed alive. As if it was the source of all life itself.

          Around you, there was sand. Everywhere. A place that was full of limitless sand, the glowing tree standing tall in the middle.

          As your actions inside this dream gazed upon this magnificent sight, suddenly an eerie silhouette of a woman emerged in front of the tree. You couldn't make out her features yet, but you could feel her presence watching you. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as if trying to decipher your very essence. They did not dare to speak but only observed you.

          The version of you in this dream could feel your body going towards her-but then another image began to form. There was an enormous bomb that exploded and shook the ground, illuminating a monstrous head on the body of what resembled a skeleton fish.

          It was a terrifying sight.

          The dream twisted back to the glowing tree, yet the glow from the tree immediately faded, a pool of blood replacing the light.

          And then, there it was.

          Eyes that glowed with a vivid green hue. Burning with rage.

          You wanted to escape this dream—but, all of it seemed familiar. So familiar as if you've known it your entire life—yet various images kept coming up in your head and continuously blurring together. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes—The familiarity was uncanny.

          Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Ey—You thought you'd seen this before—Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes. Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood—The images blurred—₲ⱤɆɆ₦ ɆɎɆ₴. ฿ⱠØØĐ. ฿Ø₥฿. ₴łⱠⱧØɄɆ₮₮Ɇ. ₮ⱤɆɆ. ₩ØⱤ₥. Ⱡł₲Ⱨ₮—and it changed again.

           But this time, it was different.

          It was a blurry image of a m̸̝̜͓̙̹͆̍̚̚a̴̺̦̺͋̊̒̔͝n̴̙͍̈́͋̈̎͝͝͠͝ ̵̡̦͓̞͈̟̈́̂̿͐̾͋͜s̷̫̳̑̌ï̵̤̪̥̖̱͊ͅt̸̛͎̋͂͂͆̓̐͋̐t̷̢͇͙͉͍͌̀͗̈́͝į̴̛̹̦̙̭̺̎̈́̿̀̌n̴̜̍͝g̸̨̗̣̯͇͖̦͐̿̏̈́̿ ̶͕̙̦̤͎͖̐̊̀́͛͝u̷̧̖͓̟͉̼̯̇̾n̷̨̧̘͙̥̻̈́̀d̷̨̛̺̺̻͙̞̺̥̤͆̈́̐͛̚͝͠͝ę̷̱͈̺̦̪̠̮͌̍͊̅̌ͅr̵̬̰̭̮͔͔̓ ̶̡̖̲̠̝̩̜̀̀̀̇̔̓̊͜ͅå̶̛̗̃̋̇͠ ̸͔́̃̇̎͌͘t̶̆͘ͅȑ̴̡̳̺̠̘͘e̶̢̨̢̢̫̭̿̈́̄ē̵̟̭͎̖ ̴̪̰̗̯̼͖̳͊̈́͌͋̐̈͑͂̽w̷̱̏̽h̸͚͖̯͙̹͚̹͋̅̒͂̉̊͐͋͝ͅọ̵̢̧͇͔̜͂͑͑̓̇̿ ̶̨̭̟̽́̋̿́̎̆͘͠͝s̵̯̝̤̺̖̘̃̿͂̍͐̀̽͐̅͝e̵͎̤͎̓͑̇͌̑̌̚ȩ̷̧̼̹̗͚͎͈̳̃͛́̍͌̌͗̎͜m̸͈̱̟͉̘̭̰̩̗͋̌̀̂͗̉͝͝ě̵̢̙͚d̷̢̡̗̥̠͓̦͍̆̎̒̎ ̵͔̰̣͉̉̕t̸̨̨̡̗͈̲̮̗̫��̅̓͘ọ̴̡̹̮̬̲̼̦̺͗̉̄͆͆͆̍̀̕͝ ̵͔͌̉̈̾̅̐̑͒̚͝h̸̦́̇̈̋͌͂̕̚ͅá̵̛̲̘̲̬̪͍͕̲͕̈́̅͗́̊ṿ̵̮͊́̉̅͋̈́͠ḛ̶̔̎̎̂ ̶̘̲͎͍̜͓͚͕͂͋̌ͅf̷̡̧̩͖̣̦͈̟̐̆̃͜ơ̸̼̱͍͙̘͕̝̣̗̌͗̆̾́̉̓͐̋͜û̸̹̮͓̯̖̍̆ñ̸̡̢͔̣̙̙̺́̓̿̈́̊͒͋́͠d̵̢͍̠̀͊̏̒͋̽̾ ̶̳̗̤̝̲͓̅̒̔ȩ̸̖͌͑̾͐v̵̧̙̲̠̬̋̃̽̋̈̈͂̕ë̴̟͈̮̜̪͉́͒̏̉͘r̴̗͕̲̮͚͇̫͙̍͛̒̔́͂̌̌̕̕l̴̠̥̮͎͇͈̟̣̒̈ͅȁ̴͍͓̼̏̃̾͗̈́͝s̴̡̬̞͚̖͎̳̓̽͒͑ţ̸͍̦͖͈͊̉̂̄͘͠ḯ̵̢̢̱͕̲̞͖̂̐̇̕͜n̸̙͙͊̎̍̾͗͑̿͒̈̕ģ̷̨̱̲̥̖͈͔͕͙̉͐͂͝ ̷̨̘̜̝͔̻͕͗͗͘p̴̰̠͍͓̙͉̊̈͑̌̈́̊̎͘͝͝e̵̺̜͔̬͘ȧ̴̠̠͉̹̩̫̆͊͌c̴̺̗̲͍̞͔̳͉̱̳̋̔ę̸͕̜̳͈̓̐̉͊̎̅̿̾͠ͅͅ ̴͎̠̖̏̃̂̒͐į̷̨͉̦̝͚̠̖͍͛̄͛̂͊̄̆̐͝͝n̴̹̩̙̳͚̐ ̷̢̨̡̭͕̖̺̦̋̒͊̒́͑ḧ̶̨̡̼͈̥̆̄̏̈́̂̾̇͜i̶͎̭̤̓̓̈͜ș̶̢̼͈͑̄̓̑̕͠ ̴̭͚͇̤̰̬́͛̎̽s̷̢̩̗̮̀̐̏ļ̵̢̥̲̬̙̺̥̱̣̈ę̸̠̣͉̣͈͔͐e̶͖͍̲͈͇̬̞͈̺̾̌̑p̵̑̐̽͌͋͠ͅ.̸͉͎̠͈̺̳͔̹̯̙͑͐̊

         

Huh?

          You wanted to know more about this vision. Everything seemed so familiar—but then you woke up.

          You blinked your heavy eyes open and struggled to focus in the dim light. Still, a bit disoriented from the deep sleep you had entered, your hand clutched your head.

          Huh? My head hurts.

          But even with the sudden migraine, you tried to ignore it with a yawn. Your body tossed and turned in bed, and as soon as your hand touched your eyes, you began to rub them to wake you up.

          You stared at your ceiling for a while without blinking, trying to decipher what had just transpired in your dream.

          Wow. That was a very long dream.

          "What time is it?" You stretched again, groaning at the notion. You stopped and faced your dog who was also asleep beside you. You smiled fondly.

          "Hi, baby," you said in a soft voice, waking them up. When your dog saw you were finally awake now, their tail wagged nonstop and tried licking your face. A chuckle left your lips, shielding yourself from their licks. "Okay, okay, I'm awake."

          You looked for your phone that was under one of your pillows and opened the notes app to make an entry about your dream today.

          Yes, you take down notes about some of your dreams in your notes app. What? You'll never know if some of them are prophetic or might come in handy one day.

          This dream was nothing special. You think. You've had tons of random entries already, of course. One of them was when you were inside a dream singing with Shrek and One Direction, and later on, appeared to be half-naked while watching the scene unfold from a different point of view than yours.

          Yeah, it was a weird and random one.

          But this time, something clicked in your mind as your fingers continued to type in your phone about your dream—Light. Worm. Tree. Silhouette. Bomb. Blood. Green Eyes.

          You were now positive it was about Attack on Titan.

          Weird. It was the same dream you had earlier this morning. Your eyes blinked.

          You just hoped you won't ever dream about it again.

         

The dreams did not stop.

          It has been exactly a week since your eerie dreams about Attack on Titan began, leaving you drained and unable to sleep properly. Every night, they returned. Unsettling, surreal, and with a nagging familiarity that you couldn't quite place. While you wanted to keep delving deeper into your dreams analysis, you also sought to avoid being overly consumed by the matter at hand. The dreams didn't make much sense to you, to be honest, but it did linger in the back of your mind.

          Your shoulders slumped as you once again lay in bed. "This is what happens when you've watched too many edits of AOT, Y/N."

          An idea then popped into your head, and you smirked. "Well, there's nothing wrong with watching more edits."

          After scrolling through YouTube for a while, you switched over to TikTok and searched for random videos about Attack on Titan again. As you clicked through some of the videos on your Fyp, you couldn't help but laugh at some of them. Some were funny; unhinged and out of pocket with the bird memes—like when a video about a bird attacking a guy with the caption: 'Eren as a bird attacking every guy that tries to flirt with Mikasa', but then there are others that were serious interpretations or analyses of his character.

          Even at the worst of times, the only way the fandom could cope was by making memes of Eren's ending. However, no matter what type of video it was, it seemed like everyone was talking about Eren and his impact on the anime world.

          You were so deep in laughter that for a moment you didn't notice the sudden intrusion in your room.

          "What in the hell is this mess."

           You immediately looked up, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes, and were met by the sight of your mother looking around your room, taking in all the changes since she last visited. Her gaze returned to you and then shook her head. "So that's why some of the mugs have disappeared, huh."

          Unsure of what to do in the face of her unexpected presence, you froze for a bit before abruptly standing up from your bed. Your heart thudded against your chest, and you stammered out a greeting.

          "H-hi, ma," you began, your voice barely more than a whisper.

          "You've been stuck here all day for months and—didn't I always tell you to clean your room? Is that how a lady should act? You're getting too lazy. You know this isn't how I raised you."

          Her disapproval was evident with every word of insult towards you that came out of her mouth.

          "What do you even do here all day, huh? Wha—"

          You tried cutting her off before it got worse. "Ma, aren't you busy, or something? Why are you even here?"

          Big mistake.

          She gave you a pointed look. You thought you were already done having a talk with her from last week, but that speech was coming.

          "Oh, you know how to talk back now, huh? Don't you dare give me that attitude, Y/N. I'm still your mom. How dare you ask me that? You rarely go outside and do some of the chores. Just look at you. This is what happens when you're always on your phone."

          Her head shook slowly, and then slowly looked up at you. "But anyway, this isn't what I came for. I have some news."

          Curious about this, your head tilted.

          She understood that your interest was piqued and so she continued. "Your aunt called. She said we'll have a memorial for... Mama. It's through Zoom with our other relatives. Also, she told me that we'll be the ones who can use Mama's house since we're the only one near it. The others are stuck in quarantine."

          Your mother waited for a minute to pass. She sighed.

          "I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been a year since she passed away."

          Your face crumpled at her words and she was instantly filled with guilt. She moved forward slowly, hesitating before perching on the edge of your bed in an attempt to show comfort. You could feel her eyes on you, full of sympathy and understanding even as you averted your gaze.

          "Oh."

          Your fingers trembled as they slowly grasped the necklace that hung around your neck. It was your grandmother's, a gift she'd given to you so many years ago—a reminder that she would always be with you. But now, at the thought of her passing, it felt like it had been ripped away from you, leaving you feeling an emptiness unlike any other.

          Your mother was right. It had already been a year.

          "Your siblings won't also be there with us, but they'll try to attend online." She was still met with silence but continued. "I know. . . this has been hard for you — for all of us — believe me, it really is. But we need to move forward with this loss. You can't just stay here inside your room and isolate yourself. . . Life doesn't simply work that way. So," she continued while her face became stoic, "pack up your things. We'll leave the next day."

          For what felt like an eternity, there was a deafening silence between you and her. Without saying a word, she turned away and stood up, gathering the mugs you had, and left the room.

          You opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came out of it.

          Your eyes glistened. Some things just can never be the same again no matter how hard you tried to hold them dearly—it cannot be undone. Especially with the pain they caused you.

          The weight of dread in your chest felt heavier than ever. You wished you were asleep, dreaming of the strange visions that kept coming back to you during the night. Those weren't real.

          Unlike this.

          After all, those dreams—were all just a very long dream.

To be continued . . .

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

[ohitslen]

OKAY VASHWOOD KIDS ON THE HEAD THIS AFTERNOON HHNNG

While I do think that them having kids of their own is super cute and such a nice thing for them both, I am personally a Vash and Wolfwood adopting children truther. Best part is it was Not Even On Purpose.

The times are less aggressive, their lives are less violent (compared to before) and they are both a lot more free. They aren’t used to living a settled life, in spite of finally having a little home of their own at the outskirts of December.

They still travel around without an aim or clear purpose most often than not. They would visit old friends and the times they decided to stay in a place for a bit longer would either be at Home or the Hopeland Orphanage.

They like it that way. It’s familiar and they don’t have to watch for their heads as much as they did before. They are finally experiencing a much more gentler life of their own.

I imagine them stumbling with some kids, let’s say three, that live on their own in one of their trips. They offer to bring them to the Hopeland Orphanage like they usually do to orphaned kids, so they can live more peacefully. They accept after some more convincing.

During that trip they get to live a bit more closely with the children compared to the way they do with the kids back at the orphanage. They love them oh they do, with all their heart, but the closeness they experience with everyone at the orphanage is more of a caretaker sort of approach and nothing as intimate as taking care of them so personally.

The bumpy trip basically obligated them to be more close to the kids, spending nights and days with them, protecting them from danger, cooking meals for their little group of five, spending a few days in different towns to unwind and buy more resources. It was nice, traveling together like that (even if it did get a little dangerous every now and then when they stumbled upon a fight or two).

The kids start to get very attached to them, and both Vash and Wolfwood admittedly were feeling the same way too. They knew they couldn’t keep the kids, not with their wanderers life style and the danger that was still always present (not as terrible as before, but trouble would always be a part of them as it seemed).

Once they got to December to finally leave the kids at the Orphanage, they decide it’s a good time for them to have one of their long stays at the orphanage until their next trip. All of the kids love them both, and they return the sentiment as well. However, it’s evident how their closeness was bigger with the kids they just traveled around with. They knew a bit more about each other with more precision, they were a bit more affectionate with them, the kids would look for Wolfwood and Vash so they could spend more time together. It wasn’t rare for the kids to go and sleep with either of them at night or taking naps with them, but those three particular children would always sleep with them, all snuggled up and warm in their embrace.

It was nice, it almost felt like a little family of their own. Wolfwood remembers how nice it was to live in the orphanage with the other kids, and Vash loved his time with Rem and Knives when they were little, not to mention the people at Home later on, but neither of them really had a grasp of something in their lives they could call wholly theirs, something stable, something constant.

Their stay at the orphanage lasted from their usual month and a half to two months, and then three, until they thought it was a good time for some time of their own back at their little house (living with so many kids always around the corner didn’t provide much space for privacy, much less now that the three kids would follow them as if they were their shadows).

The kids were disappointed and a little sad that their time to leave had come already, even if they had stayed longer than what they usually did this time. Their three little kids were the ones that looked the most anguished from them all, and neither Nick or Vash missed that detail.

When they arrived to their home, they cleaned first, the dust had settled in their house and they could barely move without gusts of it coming to invade their lungs. After they quickly got rid of the most they could they finally got to rest and get some alone time of their own.

The days passed, and the quiet time between them was appreciated, but it felt a bit too quiet. They had quickly grown used to the noise that came with being around the kids in that short time. Maybe it was thanks to the fact that their lives were much kinder now, but something inside of them itched at the thought of not having the kids by their side, of not being together.

They knew what it was after sparing it a second to think of it a bit more.

“You know, I think it would be nice if we stay in here for a bit longer” Vash said out of the blue one day while they were making breakfast together, a soft and genuine smile hanging on his face.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing” Wolfwood answered back with a smile of his own, focused at chopping a portion of vegetables a bit too big for two people, it was probably enough to feed five mouths perhaps.

[yume4evere]

vampire knight Volume 10 Edition

HINO : Zero , Yuki and Kaname

YUKI: Without Yuki , I wouldn't have been able to start this story. She's a precious girl. When Kaname faced Yuki when she was born, he was so profoundly moved and felt such tenderness towards her that he thought every cell in his body had been rewritten. As for Zero , I think he spent his youth in darkness, filled with nothing but hatred and despair when he hadn't yet met Yuki . Yuki's worries are multi-layered and intense. There are people she wants to cherish. But she is inexperienced and helpless. Yet she is mercilessly forced to make a choice. The feelings she cannot pronounce are abundant. As a result, Kaname had to carry most of the burden, I put you through deep anguish in my opinion. I'm sorry. You joked about it in a Drama CD, but I really have to wonder if you haven't developed baldness with all the stress.

Kaname: You are a cornerstone of the story, but you ended up dealing the main blow of the various drawbacks, starting with my weakness as an author. I'm sorry, Kaname . If only I could go back to that episode… It’s always on my mind. When I think of this person, various thoughts and memories come to mind; I am filled with a feeling of helplessness at not knowing how I should have represented him and it pains me. I feel that...readers who were fans of his probably feel similar feelings.

Zero: Him, whose hair is always affectionately chewed by White Lily , or grabbed by the children he saves when he puts them on his shoulder. The stress he carries is at the highest level in the world of Vampire Knight . I wouldn't be surprised if he developed a bald spot on his head. While he is extremely delicate and vulnerable, he is a strong and reliable person who can be valiant when he has found a resolution. Even in the face of adversity, you tried to remain a kind person and suffered infinitely because of it - you are a person I respect.

Message from the author

Afterword

I would like to express my gratitude again now by writing an afterword in this way after the series has already ended. It's been two years and several months since the series ended. Since that, the series has received special chapters, a stage adaptation, bunko editions, and I've been given plenty of opportunities to sincerely reflect on Vampire Knight .

I thought about how I realized how much I enjoyed drawing Vampire Knight . I myself am amazed by this devotion. I had a lot of regrets during its serial publication and also after its conclusion..."If only I had done such and such, then... Why didn't I believe in myself, have more perseverance and more wisdom at the time?" I am tortured by these regrets. But my love for the series would not allow me to lose hope.

I ardently poured my heart into the finale, right up until the last panel. And fortunately, I was able to assess that my readers understood this, thank you to many for their warm and thoughtful words. I would like to thank them for following Vampire Knight . Thank you for being there in the happy and sad times.

Maybe because there are more special chapters planned, or because deep inside, Vampire Knight is still far from the end and continues to linger in me, I'm pumped up once again. That's why I would be grateful if you follow me a little longer in the world of this story.

September 2015 Matsuri Hino

[himevampirechan]

Vanishipping Fanfic: Duat Chapter 1

Hi. It's wonderful to be able to take the time to post on Tmblr!

Life keeps moving forward and, honestly, it's been dragging me down like an old rag; because of that I've decided that, for the sake of my mood, I must force myself to fight my writer's block. I was happy to receive feedback on the ‘prologue’ of this fanfiction, although slow it is one of the stories I am most excited to continue writing and for that I thank you deeply.

Before continuing with the first chapter, I would like to point out that this story is set after the end of the series; it even takes place AFTER the events of the movie: ‘Yu-Gi-Oh: The Dark Side of Dimensions’.

Atem is NOT in the past, nor has Anzu travelled back in time; Atem is in what, for the Egyptians, exists at the end of life. I understand it can be a bit confusing but, as the story progresses, it gets better explained; don't forget to check the notes at the end of each chapter!

IMPORTANT: Tomorrow, I will upload the English version of this chapter; likewise, I plan to upload later this week chapter 3 of my other REVO fanfic: ‘Part Time Job.’

Enjoy!

(...)

Chapter 1

Dawn surprises Atem outside the room where the hekas and nuns are checkup to Anzu. Between giving instructions to the guards and being interrogated by isolated members of his council of priests, the young pharaoh has refused to leave.

Hours before and after discovering the identity of the young woman, the pharaoh left the temple struggling with hysteria. After summoning his horse with a whistle and covering the girl's nakedness with the riding sheet, he had hurried back to the palace for help.

`As soon as I entered the palace´ he thinks, watching from his position the movement of the servants going in and out of the room. `Siamun and Isis brought her into this room. ´

They had taken her from his arms, and the thought of getting away from her had hurt so much that Mana had to restrain him from slamming the door in anguish. Suddenly exhausted, Atem sits on the floor with his back against the wall, hiding his face behind clenched fists.

“I've been waiting all night and I don't know…” He whispers, staring at the door as if he can tell what's going on inside. “I don't know if she's all right.”

The sound of footsteps brings the young man out of his thoughts, standing up he watches several people leave the room, one after the other. In their arms they carry vases, bottles, linen bandages and sheets; his anxious heart leaps as he notices that a few are stained with something than looks like blood.

He takes two hurried steps towards the door as Isis and Siamun are in sight. Atem stands firm on his feet, staring at them with a thousand questions in his crimson eyes; the old man takes his forearms in a fatherly gesture.

“She is fine, my pharaoh,” he says, trying to calm the young man's anxiety, the old man's words lifting an invisible weight from his shoulders. “She doesn't seem seriously injured, she's been checked and is asleep.”

“Thank you," he whispers.

Siamun smiles at his gesture, affectionately stroking the boy's cheek with the palm of his hand. After a few seconds the pharaoh's eyes shine with determination, he straightens up and takes two steps into the room; no one notices the smile on Isis' face who, stepping sideways, steps between the door and the boy.

“You can't come in, Pharaoh,” says the brunette, her face serious, her gaze piercing him. Atem looks at her in surprise.

“Why?” asks the young man, his eyes darting from the priestess to Siamun in confusion. The old man slowly shakes his head in a resigned gesture, sensing a growing irritation in the ruler.

“The lady needs rest,” the priestess replies with a sympathetic smile on her face. Atem opens his mouth to complain, but the old man again taps his shoulder paternally.

“It has been a long and intense night for all of us, my pharaoh," he says once Atem looks at him. “It would be best for you and your friend to regain your strength. Besides, I think you need to go to the throne room and clarify the situation with the members of the royal council; especially if your plans involve the girl staying as a guest inside the palace.”

Atem frowns as he analyses the old man's words, after a few seconds he lowers his face in resignation, knowing that even his concern is overridden by his duty as the Pharaoh of Kemet.

`We still do not know what really happened in the temple of Osiris. And Anzu, who is the only one who possibly knows, needs to rest´ Atem reflects, knowing that he cannot afford to risk Anzu's recovery by showing the council a poor choice of priorities.

Isis and Siamun stare at him as he thinks, can't help but feel a pang of pride as they see him stand tall and strong like the ruler he is; Atem looks back at them, his scarlet eyes full of confidence.

“Siamun: Meet with Seto, see that the saru are complete in the throne room, including my father. I need his presence during the meeting.” The old man smiles and bows before leaving to carry out the order. “Isis,” continues the boy with a more serious expression. “Considering the nature of the situation, we must be discreet: I need you to wear the millennium necklace, because you and Mahado to double security inside and outside the palace until we can figure out what happened tonight. After that, sends someone for Mana: I need her to look after my guest for the duration of the meeting.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, a slight smile creeps across the woman's face, Atem returns the gesture with confidence. With a nod, the priestess bows and walks down the hall.

“I'll see you in the throne room," Atem whispers, watching her walk away, unable to take in the woman's mischievous look and the sudden gleam of the millennium necklace.

A few seconds pass before Atem notices that he's alone in the place; he resolutely starts walking towards the throne room, but an anxious feeling fills his stomach. He looks over his shoulder at the entrance to the room where Anzu is.

`It's not an illusion´ he thinks firmly, trying to convince himself. “It's not a dream.”

The desire to see her becomes unbearable, closing his eyes he remembers the warmth of her skin, the feel of her silky hair, her smell. Anzu is in there, a few steps away, and for a few seconds, the young ruler considers the possibility of entering the room. The memory of Bakura's manic smile flashes through his mind.

"She is safe," he shakes his head, trusting the words of Siamun and Isis. Bakura is gone and the appearance of her friend from the future must have a logical explanation; it's something they need to find out, but to do so he must be able to keep the girl safe in the palace. Anzu needs to rest, regain strength and he must prepare to lead the meeting with the council.

Atem looks one last time at the door of the room over his shoulder, taking a deep breath he begins to walk down the hallway.

"Wait a little longer, Anzu," he thinks, clasping the chain hanging from the millennium puzzle around his neck in his right hand. “I'll keep you safe.

(...)

“...Witnesses mention that the light fell directly on the Temple of Osiris; however, we have found no damage to the building, and no injured people among the civilians. Neither Hem netcher, nor the Sem noticed anything strange before it happened and only understood than something was happening when they saw Pharaoh Atem arrive at the sanctuary.”

Glances and whispers are exchanged among the council members. Atem, seated on his throne, listens intently with a serious expression.

“This is strange” he thinks, watching the council members exchange questions and gestures. “Shada mentioned that the speakers were inside the temple, but I didn't see anyone on the premises.”

“Was there any damage, unrelated to the event in the city?” asked his father in an attempt to lessen the restlessness in the room. “Any sieges, injuries?”

“There were none, Your Majesty,” replies the man in charge of notifying the measures taken during the early hours of the morning. “Regardless of the confusion, we can be sure that the people of Kemet are safe.”

There are whispers again among the people present. Mahado glances slyly at Atem, who nods in return.

“You are discharged” the priest says with a wave of his hand; the military captain nods and, taking three steps back, heads for the exit.

"Despite its intensity, the glow was harmless.” Immersed in his thoughts, Atem ignores the gazes on him. What was its function? Where did it come from?

The doors close, snapping Atem out of his thoughts. The council watches him intently, and he can feel the tension in his father's body; he can be sure that most of the people in the throne room are as confused as he is.

“Priestess Isis,” Atem calls after a few seconds, startling those present. She takes a step forward, kneeling in front of the throne, "Did your millennium item alert you in advance to the situation we found ourselves in?”

“No, my pharaoh," the young woman replies, her eyes fixed on the ground. Surprised murmurs rise in the room.

“Priest Seto," he continues, watching his cousin mimic the brunette's position “Same question.”

“No, my pharaoh," the brown-haired man replies, taping the golden sceptre to his chest. This seems to surprise the members of the council even more. The question is also put to Karim and Siamun, the refusal is absolute; new whispers fill the room.

Atem stares at them in silence and exchanges a glance with his father, who nods his head in a gesture of confidence. The young ruler takes a breath before standing up to speak.

“It is obvious that we do not have all the information we need about what happened last tonight," he says confidently, the council members watching him carefully. “However, that the millennium items showed no alteration from what happened is a clear proof that the kingdom is not in danger. Still, we must continue to look for evidence, in case another unexpected event should occur.” His deep, rich voice echoes in the silence with authority. “Shada!”

“¿Yes, my pharaoh?” replies the priest, kneeling in front of him.

“Mobilise more soldiers to increase security inside the city; please be discreet, we don't want to create panic among the people.”

“Yes, my pharaoh," exclaims Shada before quickly leaving the room followed by the senior military leaders.

"That will keep the civilians safe, but it doesn't rule out some internal danger," Atem thinks sternly. Lifting his gaze, he meets the piercing scrutiny of the wielder of the millennium eye. “Ankhnadin!” Atem continues, confident that his uncle knows his concerns.

“¿Yes, my pharaoh?” The old man takes several steps forward without kneeling. The boy does not take his gesture into account, the betrayal by the older man is in the past.

“I need to you, Karim and Mahado to check the other temples near the area where the light fell. We must rule out any other occurrences during the night.”

Several voices whisper in the room, Atem can sense their hesitation with a decision that seems unnecessary. The three priests begin to stir as an idea occurs to the pharaoh.

“One more thing!” he exclaims, the priests pause to listen to the rest of the order. A dark, authoritative smile creeps across Atem's mouth, startling some of those present. “Questions the speakers of Osiris again.” A few surprised gasps are Heard “I leave it in your hands Ankhnadin.”

A terrifying tension fills the throne room, filling the council members with chills; Atem sees, out of the corner of his eye, his father's approving smile. The message has been sent and it is clear: Interrogate them, see into their minds and verify that they are not lying. If they lie, they must be punished.

“Yes, my pharaoh," replies the bearer of the golden eye with understanding and a satisfied smile. The three priests return and head for the exit.

Mahado watches the young pharaoh out of the corner of his eye as he walks away, Atem's cold expression turns to a pleading look; the wizard nods. So many years of friendship have given Mahado the tools to know his concerns perfectly.

He leaves knowing that his childhood friend and ruler will confidently wait for the priests to return with the answers they need.

As the door closes, not a single person dares to speak. Ignorant of the young pharaoh's doubts and worries, those present wonder whether the changes that night signal a shift in the balance of the Maat, and how the orders taken by the ruler might affect them.

“The rest of us..." Atem continues after a few seconds, "will wait.”

Expressions of surprise flood the room, Atem squares his shoulders and surveys those present in a gesture that leaves no room for doubt.

“I refuse to take action without some clue as to what is happening. I will not put my kingdom at risk until I see the entire game board!” There are whispers in the room. Mostly from the weaker parts of the council: nobles, scribes, priests and sons of military men who, even in the afterlife, do not cease to question his authority.

“Pharaoh," one dares to speak, Atem observes him, having a bad feeling about his conciliatory voice. “Maybe if we force her to speak, the woman from the temple...”

Atem interrupts him by standing up and slamming his fist hard against the throne, the metallic clang of his rings on impact forcing those present into silence. The nobleman cringes under the young ruler's furious gaze.

“KEMMET'S SAFETY IS OUR PRIORITY!” he exclaims in a voice so full of anger that its sound reverberates off the walls. “I will take no further action until the city and the people are safe. THAT IS MY ORDER!”

Feeling the oppressive tension in the room, Atem sits back down with both arms firmly at his sides and one leg crossed over the other; a distinctive gesture that makes him exude authority, elegance and confidence, yet his angry face makes several present feel the need to run away.

“Yes, Your Highness," the nobleman whispers, ducking his head. After a few seconds, Atem glances sideways at Siamun, nodding his head. The vizier nods slightly.

“all of you are discharged" the old man orders as usual. Silently the people begin to leave, some whispering among themselves and watching with interest the distant, shadowed gaze of the young ruler.

Soon the throne room is empty. Atem drops his head, wearily massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Well done, my son," Aknamkanon whispers, approaching the young ruler, Atem lifts his head back with his face unhinged in concern.

“Thank you father," he whispers with a frown. “But we haven´t another choice right now.”

Only the two rulers, the priest Siamun and Seto, remain in the room. Atem closes his eyes, dizzy, breathing irregularly.

“Pharaoh, are you all right?” asks Siamun in a low voice, looking at him with paternal concern.

“Hai, Daijoubu Oji chan," he whispers in a trembling voice without looking at the old man; realising his mistake, Atem feels his chest tighten with an emotion that makes him want to hide his face. “I'M FINE!” he corrects embarrassed. “Really, SIAMUN, there's nothing wrong.”

The old man looks at him with a confused look on his face at his strange words. Atem looks away from the others, biting his lip in a clear sign of stress; a voice in the back of his head reminds him that Anzu is a few rooms away and that he should go to her before the girl wakes up, alone and confused in that unknown place.

“Pharaoh Atem," a curt voice calls out to him. Atem comes out of his thoughts with a start, turns his face and looks at his cousin who glares at him with his cold blue irises.

“What's wrong, Seto?” he replies, watching the chestnut with a raised eyebrow, aware of the unspoken meaning of his penetrating gaze: Seto wants answers and immediately.

The priest hisses in annoyance with a tense jaw.

“ I think it's time you told us about your host and her relationship to what's happening" he exclaims coldly, taking two menacing steps towards the tricolour.

“SETO!” cries Siamun, scandalised by the priest's tactlessness towards his king; however, both young men ignore him and observe each other in a long and silent discussion.

It is no secret that the council finds interesting the mania of both boys to challenge each other in duels of will; always ready to push the other to the limits of his reasoning.

Being both young and talented they seem to positively strengthen each other using their born rivalry. However, there are rare occasions where there is real annoyance during these interactions and Seto's sudden aggressiveness seems to show that he does not completely agree with the decisions made by the young pharaoh.

“This is the second time I've seen that expression on his face," thinks Atem. “The first time was shortly before I sealed my soul inside the millennium puzzle."

Atem sighs, looking away resignedly and losing his battle with the brown man.

“You're right, Seto. I will tell you everything, however, there is one person I need to visit first” The young pharaoh looks up to meet the serious face of his father, who looks at him, aware that his son needs to speak to him alone.

“Siamun," says Aknamkanon, keeping his eyes on his son. “Inform us when the priests return from their missions, and we will meet you in the strategy room when that happens.”

“Yes, Your Majesty," the old man rasps, bowing and hurrying out of the room. He can't help but glance over his shoulder at the three men remaining in the room.

“Seto," Atem calls, rising from his throne. The chestnut, still wearing an annoyed expression, takes a step in his direction. “Send one of your servants for Mana and Mut-nisut Nubet, i need them to be present in the strategy room when everyone returns.”

After a few seconds of surprised silence, the chestnut nods at the young ruler's command; with a resigned smile, Atem places a hand on the chestnut's shoulder.

“I trust you will find someone to keep her safe, on her way to the strategy room," the pharaoh whispers, watching him with a deep, gentle expression. Without looking away, Seto deciphers some of the emotions his cousin is trying to hide: confusion, anguish and fear.

“Yes, my pharaoh," he replies, returning his gaze confidently, his gesture seeming to reassure the tricolour; after bowing, the chestnut-haired man makes his way out of the room.

The rulers, father and son, watch him leave without exchanging words. Once alone, Atem can feel his father's curious glance upon him; for a moment he feels again like a small child who has been caught playing where he shouldn't be.

The sun has risen across the sky on a bright morning, the light inside the room reflecting off the walls and dazzling the boy's sleepy eyes. A young adult who refuses to look at his father.

“Your mother is not part of the council, to let her be part of a meeting in the strategy room is against tradition. You know that, my son," Aknamkanon reproaches calmly, watching his son's serious face finally return his gaze; the crimson eyes, so much like his wife's, seem to stare into the void with deep concern.

“I know," the boy whispers, clenching the millennium puzzle around his neck in his fist, "but I think that perhaps she and Mana are an important part of what is happening. Just like us.”

Aknamkanon's chest sinks with pessimism. Ah! Then his son is indeed hiding things and seems to be suspicious about the arrival of the girl from the temple. What can be going on inside the young pharaoh's head to have such concern in his eyes?

Aknamkanon has never seen such desolation on his son's face. Since his arrival in the fields of Ialu, Atem had enjoyed a time of peace and contentment; as if, after millennia of darkness and loneliness, he was trying to make up for lost time in the land of his birth.

The reunion between him and his mother had been so emotional that most of the inhabitants of the palace had been unable to hide their tears. Atem's arrival had made a great impression on everyone; the serious but kindly man who had entered at the end of his maaty had filled those who waited patiently for him with pride and admiration.

After the reconciliations the young man's character had come to the surface, and as time passed it had become recurrent to find him in the garden, dozing peacefully under the shade of the papyri, safe and sound, as if nothing else mattered in the world.

He rarely spoke of his experience in the world of the living, but when he did he was so nostalgic that, by night, they had grown accustomed to seeing him sitting by the river, speaking softly to the stars; whispering things to them that only he could remember.

Feeling a hint of sadness, Aknamkanon takes the boy by the shoulders with both hands, bending down to look directly into his face.

“My son, what are you thinking?” asks the older pharaoh with genuine interest. Under the weight of his hands his son feels small, yet when Atem lifts his face he has the cold, determined look of a ruler who has fought in war most of his life.

“A part of me suspects that the millennium items are related to what happened tonight,” he replies, staring at him. Aknamkanon's sudden surprise at his words quickly changes to analysis of the situation.

“And your guest?” He asks again patiently “Is his arrival also related to the millennium items?”

“I don't know yet, but I'm afraid it's related to the final duel” adds Atem, nodding at the curiosity and understanding on his father's face. The man notices his son's body trembling unconsciously, and with deep surprise Aknamkanon watches as the young man, sinking into his thoughts, seems to become a dark version of himself.

“I will not allow Anzu to be harmed” Atem whispers, his jaw clenched, staring at a distant point in the room with deep, spiteful eyes. “I will destroy anyone who tries to harm her”

Overwhelmed by his dark essence, Aknamkanon releases the boy's shoulders, forcing him out of his thoughts with a blink; Atem watches him in confusion for a few seconds, a shiver running through the older man as he realises that his son was unaware of his words.

“Why would anyone want to hurt her?” he asks, trying to understand his son's emotions. The boy's breath hitches and he silently averts his eyes, trying to find the best words to explain the situation.

Aknamkanon looks at him tensely, while Atem meditates; after a few seconds the young pharaoh lifts his illuminated face with a tiny crooked smile.

“Because I'm in love with her.” he confesses quietly.

NOTES ON THE CHAPTER

Kemmet: Egyptian name for the Pharaonic Egyptians.

Heka: Sorcerers.

Sunu: Physicians.

Saru: Local council of nobles

Hem netcher: Prophets.

Sem: Priests who acted in the ceremonies of resurrection rites.

Maaty: Term for the justified in the judgement of the Maat at death.

Fields of Ialu: Egyptian paradise.

Mut-nisut: Mother of the king.