#'cause harm will befall them

[rayofmisfortune]

SO TODAY'S SAMS EP??

BLOODMOON FRIGGIN STAY AWAY FROM THE BOYS I SWEAR TO GOD YA'LL MAKE LIKING YOU TWO SO HARD *SOBS*

[coquelicoq]

[Image description: Stills from the anime "Natsume's Book of Friends" of Natsume and Nyanko-sensei/Madara together, including Natsume carrying, holding, consulting, playing with, and sleeping next to Nyanko-sensei in his cat form, as well as one still of Natsume hugging Madara's snout in his larger form. /end ID]

NATSUME’S BOOK OF FRIENDS - Natsume & Nyanko-sensei / Madara 2/3

[i-cant-sing]

Thinking about my own grandpa and how he'd comfort me with sweets/icecream whenever i had the slightest inconvenience and i just dream of whether he'd still do it to me as a 23 year old, ruffling my hair, letting me cut his birthday cake, scolding my parents when they got mad at me (yes i snitched on my parents), wiping my fat tears with his handkerchief, showing me his drawings of airplane engines as cold air blasted through the ac, letting me eat food from his plate that my mom made me bring him lol.

and like it grandparents are sooo sweet man. they couldve been okay-ish parents to their own kids, but then they get grandkids and they're like a whole different species *sniffle* theyre so precious.

and now my mind goes to that yandere todoroki clan au (i think it was the bullied series) where at the end, reader dies because of rei, and the whole fam loses their sanity. then one day, reader is reincarnated (its her quirk) as dabi's baby and dabi shares the news with his siblings because he needs to restore their sanity too (cause he feels responsible for them too, the "eldest kid" syndrome).

anyways, after you, his daughter had died, enji lost it and killed rei and then just vanished into the mountains to mourn his loss. years later, for whatever reason, he finds out about you. he's standing there, watching toddler you looking at him with curiosity. you stumble towards him, and Enji's on his knees at this point, he's in shock. your scars, your marks from your previous life dont even register to him until later on, all he can focus is you- its you, his baby. his daugher. his child that he swore to protect and failed.

your legs give out when you reach him but your hands reach for him and enji's already lifting you up, bringing you to his chest. his eyes are filled with tears as u look at him and babble, your hands grabbing onto his shirt, touching his face, big doe eyes staring at him.

he hugs you, silent sobs wrecking his body as he gets a whiff of your head. you- you smell just like her- like his daughter.

It really is you.

he doesn't let go of you, even when you eventually fall asleep in his arms, rocking you gently as he stares down at you in awe and disbelief. he doesn't let you go even when dabi tries to take you back, even when dabi insists that he won't keep you two apart, that you need to rest in your bed as he explains everything.

he finally let's you go when you wake up and reach for your dad (dabi), crying when enji doesn't let you leave his arms. but he relents, enji relents when you cry- it hurts him so bad, he's reminded of all the times how you used to cry before, how you used to beg him for help, beg him to save you. his heart breaks to see you like this, in tears.

enji's only partially conscious of what dabi is saying to him, explaining to him that you're now "his" daughter and enji's "granddaughter" and that's how things will be if they need to work. But enji doesn't care whether you're his daughter or not, all he cares about is that he's in your life because he needs to- he will keep you safe. He won't make the same mistakes again. Never.

i can just imagine the siblings and enji all sitting down together to make decisions about your life in extreme detail so that they ensure that no harm befalls you ever again, and if by some extreme badluck you die, they need to make sure that you reincarnate back to them.

they plan your every day, they make sure that at least one of them is with you at all times, and most importantly, they make sure youre safe and happy. when you start going to school, you're taken to school by Shotou because Dabi (who went back to working as a chef) has to go to work early. then at school, your teacher is more than likely Fuyumi (and if she's not your teacher, then she still works at your school). then after school, you're picked up by Enji who takes you out for ice cream (always, he doesnt care if its before u have had lunch. he needs to make up for all the times he couldnt give u ice cream because of rei) and also buy you any toys u want. enji is just enjoying you padding away and pointing at things that catch your eye. at home, natsuo has returned from his shift at the hospital and then starts heating up the food dabi had already made for you, before letting enji put you down for nap time. when you wake up, natsuo takes your vitals and a basic medical check. by dinner, dabi is home and you welcome him by launching yourself at his legs with a thud. he laughs, picks you up and pecks your cheek before taking you into the kitchen with him to make dinner while you tell him all about your day.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Six

Series Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - mentions of pain, mentions of death, mentions of torture, angstttt, sadness, fluff

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

It had taken 17 hours for y/n to stir.

17 hours of Azriel sat at her bedside hating himself for allowing her to venture from the cabin alone and picturing himself grabbing her hand at the last second to stop her from leaving him.

17 hours of verbal beatings which would have been physical if it weren’t for his refusal to leave her side.

Aelin was furious, her wildfire blazing as blue as her eyes across each one of her limbs.

Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word, but his eyes didn’t leave Azriel for one moment, and he hadn’t unclenched his fists from the moment he had stepped foot into Prythian and scented the direness of the situation at hand.

Lorcan and Aedion also refused to move from the room, being her bloodsworn they had a duty to protect and serve her, and they felt as if they had failed in a sense.

Then there was Manon, the gold eyed witch queen with talons so sharp that they had drawn blood from Azriel’s arms when they coiled around him and demanded to know what had happened with a voice so venomous that he was sure she would drink his blood if she could.

In short, everyone despised him, and even Rhys was reluctant to offer a safe hand to his brother. Azriel understood, Rhys had only just gotten his sister back, and was feeling like a failure in his own way for sending her in the first place. Rhys was so ashamed of his request that he had allowed Aelin to preside over y/n’s care with Yrene, as well as the scouting missions she had ordered Rowan and Manon to embark upon to ensure that no attack would befall the city whilst y/n was injured and vulnerable.

The last 17 hours hadn’t been kind to y/n. Black poison poured from the bandages secured around her chest and abdomen, which meant that Yrene had to change them more often, and a fever so damning had taken over her body, causing the Queen of the Erilean Fae to sweat and shake uncontrollably whilst her body fought an internal war to win back her life. It was horrible to watch, and it all could have been avoided if Azriel had been there, flying below her and ensuring no one could pick them out of the skies, or if Rhys hadn’t sent them to begin with.

Azriel could picture it. A fond and vivid image of y/n flying above him. The rain would cause her raven black hair to stick to her skin, but it was the thin wisps of baby hair that stuck to her forehead that made the faintest of smiles to appear on Azriel's lips. Y/N seemed so unbothered up there, so... at home. Much like he found solace in the shadows, she found songs in the storms. A peace that could never be tainted.

That's what he willed himself to see when he looked upon her pallid, fever-stricken face. He willed himself to see the version of her that she would have wished. One where she was happy. One where she was plagued by serenity.

None of them could pinpoint how Hybern had known that y/n was in Prythian, or how they knew that she even existed in order to create the only poison that could be used to weaken and fatally harm her. Even Yrene had uttered that the ingredients were sparse even within Erilea. It meant that someone had spent valuable time collecting and crafting in order to inflict the pain onto y/n. Azriel swore to himself that whoever it was would die for it in the most curdling manner his mind could fathom.

It was within the thirty second minute that she stirred, her kaleidoscope orbs appearing beneath her fluttering lids and a small groan of torturous pain emitting from her lips. Azriel moved from the chair beside her to the mattress in a matter of seconds, disturbing the peace by shouting into the void for Lorcan and Aedion to call for Yrene, and the healer came quickly at their demands barrelling down the halls.

Yrene was closely followed by Aelin and Manon, the latter of which growled once she spied Azriel’s marred flesh tainting the purity of her queen. The red cloak of Manon swept against the stone beneath her feet, her claws were retracted but her teeth were poised to rip the throat out of anyone who got too close, Azriel included. Not wasting a moment, Yrene crossed the room whilst fastening her apron at her back, reaching out to lay her hand on y/n’s forehead and stealing it back with a hiss and the scent of burning flesh. “How are you holding her?” Yrene asked, perplexed, holding her burnt hand to her chest.

To Azriel, y/n felt hot, but not searing, not burning. From the beads of sweat that teared down her pallid cheeks, he knew that she was struggling to fight off the poison and the infection that came with it.

The Shadowsinger didn’t answer.

Instead, he kept his hazel eyes upon her face, tracing the slow beat of her eyelids and the quaking of her gasping lips as she attempted to form a word. “Y/N,” Azriel cooed gently, causing y/n to stop trembling for a moment, “To me,” he told her, pulling her darting eyes from the ceiling and to his face, “You need to save your energy and rest. Close your eyes and sleep. Let Yrene heal you.”

It wasn’t as much as a command as it was a plead, but she listened, shakily nodding her head and shivering into slumber, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

He felt the golden eyes of the witch queen on the side of his face, Manon couldn’t understand how y/n hadn’t noticed her at her side, she couldn’t understand how y/n’s eyes found Azriel instantly over her own. Azriel moved his gaze to meet those orbs of gold and speckled black, refusing the back down even if he did find her terrifying. “She needs Doranelle,” Manon spoke, not to Azriel despite him being in her eye line, but to Aelin who stood behind her, and to Rowan who was propped against the doorway.

“We’re stuck here,” Aelin reminded her, making it clear that she had already thought the same but knew it was impossible without y/n’s power to rip open the fabric of space and time to take them there. Aelin dropped to her knees beside y/n, the fire coursing through y/n’s veins battling against her own, and she ran her fingers down the side of her face, worry clear and fear prominent. “This King,” Aelin spat, “Knows what he has done. Your war will be coming sooner than you think, and he’ll seek to destroy her along with it.”

“I won’t let him,” Azriel growled, tone low and threatening, and eyes peeking through the thickness of his lashes whilst his hand kept entwined with y/n’s like he was her link back to the land of the living.

Aelin honed in on Azriel, drinking in the dark possessiveness in his eyes and the way his shadows flitted over the skin of her dearest friend, almost as if they were trying to shield her from the world.

It wasn’t like Aelin truly blamed the Shadowsinger for what happened to y/n, she knew first hand just how difficult she could be when it came to anything she felt determined to do. In all honesty, Aelin blamed Rhys the most and had told him plenty of times of the fact. Y/N was Rhys’ sister, he knew how important she was to other worlds let alone his own, and he willingly put her in danger. Such motions threatened the survival of Prythian, and by extension, Erilea.

The feelings of Aelin were probably why Rhys had stayed away, waiting for the rest of them to leave for the evening before spending the night at her side, reading and telling her stories of their father and sister to then only leave at the break of dawn when Lorcan and Aedion would arrive. Azriel was the only one who stayed every minute of every hour, refusing to be anywhere else, out of guilt or desperation Aelin would never truly know, but part of her was thankful for it.

Do you see it?

Aelin craned her head over her shoulder to find Rowan’s orbs fixated on the pallid body of his friend and former princess, a woman he had spent centuries protecting and training. His sight pulled from her to Aelin and he nodded, eyes flickering to Azriel who had turned all of his attention back to y/n.

Yes.

The yawning of Aedion who was sprawled across a chair in the far corner halted Aelin from probing Rowan further. The unimpressed guise of the chamber fell upon him, “Tired, Cousin?”

Aedion shrugged, motioning to Lorcan with a wave of his hand, “She’s funnelling our energy through the bond. Forgive us for feeling a little lethargic, Aelin.”

“What do you mean? She’s funnelling your energy?” Azriel asked, brows furrowed and trying to grasp the meaning in his mind.

Sighing, Aelin explained, “Y/N is incredibly powerful,” she smiled upon y/n sadly, “There are aspects of her power that she refuses to use, abilities of the darkness that she inherited from her mother, Maeve. She can absorb strength from those sworn to her and from those who offer their power to her,” Aelin nodded toward Aedion and Lorcan with her eyes softening, “Y/N is absorbing the strength and energy from Aedion and Lorcan, they are her bloodsworn, and her body is in such a bad way that it seems the dark spots of her power are grasping onto anything they can to keep her alive.”

“It’s happened before?”

Aelin smiled thinly, trying to offer some comfort to Azriel who was beginning to understand the pain inflicted upon the woman before his eyes, but before Aelin could reply, Manon’s voice echoed between them. “Once. She was in a much worse state after she destroyed Maeve, her power was drained for the first time in her life, and she was severely injured from what Maeve did before the battle. All of that put her into a state of comatosis. It took her weeks to wake.” From the heaviness of Manon’s recount, Azriel knew just how close they were, all of them, so he understood why they blamed him, hated him.

“I’m sorry that I let her leave the cabin. I’m sorry,” Azriel spoke, staring right into Manon and trying to decipher whatever emotion lay within those cold golden orbs.

Rising to his feet, Aedion crossed the room, nudging a lingering Rowan on the way, “It’s fine. Y/N is a stubborn thing, she’s pulled the wool over all of our eyes at some point.”

“Like when she sacrificed herself to secure my freedom?” Aelin asked with a smile, leaning to run her fingers along y/n’s arm.

“Or when she trailed the ilken following Elide and I and slaughtered them all without us even realising it?” Lorcan huffed with amusement, creeping closer to the bed with humour in his eyes and his arms firmly folded over his chest.

“Then there’s Skull’s Bay,” Rowan almost sang, the words being the first noise he had made since he had arrived in Velaris and the room hummed in fond remembrance.

“And we won’t ever forget how she took possession of that burst dam and swallowed Maeve along with it. She saved us all that day, even when she was barely alive,” Manon spoke softly, a speckle of humanity shining through her soul shrouded in stone, “She’s family,” was all the witch queen said, an olive branch of sorts, an explanation as to why she had been so difficult.

Noting the concern in Azriel’s eyes, Aelin lay a hand upon his shoulder, gentle but unyielding, “She’s survived worse, Shadowsinger. Don’t underestimate her, you won’t survive the humiliation.”

Silenced followed after that, well, silence for Azriel at least. Whilst he traced the contours of her face, the rest of the room spent some time reminiscing, talking fondly of Erilea which Azriel somewhat listened to but didn’t engage with. All he could really wonder was what place could be so worthy of someone so perfect, and part of him wanted to walk the streets of Doranelle for a moment so that he would be able to understand it.

Only when Yrene would periodically swim by would Azriel lift his eyes to give her a thankful smile that she would return with an unspoken warmth. It seemed as though y/n had a family of her own, just like he did, a family not of blood, but of unbroken bonds and unyielding wrathful friendship. They’d all die for one another, it was something Azriel could resonate with.

After an hour, the doors to the chamber opened and Feyre stepped in, fumbling with her fingers and eyes floating through the room until they landed on Azriel and Y/N, and she found her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her, it reminding her of how Rhys’ gaze embedded itself into her at all times.

The expectant void of words caused Feyre to float back into the room, “Rhys would like a meeting. We should discuss next steps in this war and in y/n’s recovery. Yrene can stay with her, it won’t take long.” Aelin rolled her eyes but stood, muttering something about a false king under her breath which caused Rowan to chortle a laugh as they passed by Feyre. “You too, Az.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Yrene told him softly once she realised the reluctance in his eyes and the way his fingers curled tighter around her hand, “If anything happens, I’ll call for you. I promise.”

Stiffly nodding, Azriel stood from his seat that was imprinted with his frame, he pressed his lips tenderly to the pallid and slightly bruised knuckles of y/n before laying her hand softly upon the mattress and following after Feyre, stealing one last look at the fussing Yrene as her glowing hands floated over y/n’s torso yet again.

Azriel trailed behind the group, lingering at the side of his High Lady as they all sauntered through the halls of the House of Wind. Whilst pacing through the fortress, Azriel couldn't help but allow his gaze to float between each one of the other-worldly beings. Beginning with Aelin and tracking how her arm slid around Rowan's waist, to Rowan who placed a tender kiss upon her brow, to Aedion and Lorcan who were bustling shoulder to shoulder, clearly being too large for the width of the halls, and then there was Manon, red cloak swaying at her back and moon-white hair braided over her shoulder whilst her eyes darted past every doorway like she could see beyond them.

Yes, Azriel was very sure of y/n's safety being almost a guarantee.

With all of his watching and observing, he didn't notice the eyes of Feyre drifting over his face with a quirked smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "You don't leave her side. Why?" Feyre asked quietly, catching how his eyes thinned slightly as he searched his mind for an answer that would appease her.

"I feel guilty," he tried to say, but the heaviness of his voice betrayed his words.

Feyre gently slipped her arm around his, resting her fingers on the indent of his elbow and pulling him into her side softly. "No. I don't think that's why," she gave him a pointed look, one loaded with knowing, "You feel something for her, despite only knowing her for a few days. What draws you to her?"

A more adequate question would be what didn't draw Azriel to y/n?

"I wasn't sure at first. If you had asked me why I couldn't concentrate at the High Lord's Meeting then I would have told you the truth. It was because of her. Not because she was new, or because I thought she was a threat..." Azriel trailed off, his voice softening and shoulders falling lax, like all tension had floated away, "It was because looking at her made me feel like I was finally home. There is a warmth within her, and a darkness that mirrors my own. She is fierce and tortured, but gentle in ways no one would ever be able to begin to understand. Y/N has spent her life fighting, being used for what she can offer but not being appreciated for who she is, and I think that I understand that."

"So, you seek to protect her?"

"No," Azriel sighed, looking to Feyre with a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never though she would ever get to witness, "Well, yes. But I seek to give her a life free of torment. A life of love and one void of the restraints of her station. I seek to be her freedom, Feyre."

The High Lady of the Night Court found herself blushing from sheer excitement. Feyre had noticed it the moment y/n had waltzed into their lives, limbs exposed and hair flowing, eyes glowing with the light of a thousand storms; she had seen something spark, a cog falling into place after so long tumbling around without purpose.

"Does it help that she is the most beautiful thing to walk the universe?"

Azriel scoffed, "Her beauty is incomparable to what lies beneath it," he told Feyre, glancing sidelong with a smirk, "But I suppose she isn't half bad to look at."

Feyre tried to conceal her chuckle behind her hand as they both entered the dining room that Rhys had converted into a meeting room for the sake of convenience.

It was clear that sleep had escaped him, and what was even more pristine was the fact that Aelin could not have cared less about it as she took her place at the head of the table, further solidifying her position as leader of their little merged group. Rhys didn't contest, instead he simply moved to the opposing end, motioning for Azriel and Feyre to take a place either side of him.

A usually convivial dining table now swimming with discontent from two sides.

Aelin assumed her usual position. Legs propped against the tabletop. Arms folded over her chest. Dagger gleaming in the pale lights and reflecting upon the ceiling. A warning. A dare.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Aelin's head curled to meet Rhys' sight, "Have you figured out how this world knew of her and the only thing that can weaken her?"

Silence consumed the room like thick onyx poison, drowning and dimming all forms of barely there happiness. Rhys shuffled in his seat. He had to send himself on such a mission since he knew that Azriel refused to leave his sisters side, and he had come up empty handed.

The location of y/n's downfall had been left void of any traces of armies and magic, the only sign of this incident occurring being the blood soaked earth where Rhys had stood for an hour cursing himself for even thinking about sending her away when he had only just gotten her back.

If he could, he would go back and rip the order from his mouth. He'd carve out his own tongue to keep her hidden.

"No," Rhys spoke roughly with a throat that hadn't been quenched by water in what felt to him like days. "I assure you that such knowledge has never reached Prythian. I sent word to Helion and Thesan, enquiring if such a poison were in any of their libraries. There isn't."

Lorcan scoffed and glanced to Rowan who had his lip curled upward into a snarl from his place beside Aelin, "And you believe them?"

Sprinkles of magic littered the air, casting a faint shimmer that filled the spaces of the open arched windows whilst the faint sound of laughter from the mouths of little ones echoed upward to the House of Wind.

"I do," Rhys gulped. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a hand down his face that was soaked with exhaustion. "Helion and Thesan aren't only High Lords of Prythian. They are friends of the Night Court, and their lives have been dedicated to research and healing. They would never withhold such information."

"Forgive me for not believing a word of it," Aelin muttered, fingers tracing along the hilt of the dagger on the table. "Your enemy knew that she would come. He knew she would come looking for him, and he knew exactly how to ensure her death. If it weren't for that last burst of power that brought Aedion and Lorcan to her position, she'd be gone." Aelin leant forward in her seat, feet falling flat against the ground and venom laced in her words.

"You foolish man. Sending not only your long lost sister but our queen into the belly of a beast without being able to ensure her safety. Your world isn't the only one at stake here. If she cannot recover from this then your world will perish, and our world will have lost its fiercest warrior."

Manon chuckled, pulling the attention of the room to her, and Cassian who was placed beside her leant away from the talons she was running the pads of her fingers down lazily. "In other words, if she dies here, we'll ensure that you do too. Or well, I will," Manon flashed her iron teeth at Rhys, causing Feyre to shift uncomfortably in her seat as her fingers became entwined in his own, allowing her power to ebb and flow from her essence in response to Manon's threat.

Remembering his position, Azriel's eyes manoeuvred over Manon, then Aedion and Lorcan whose fists were clenched but possessed tired eyes, before landing on Aelin and Rowan who were struggling to contain themselves. Tendrils of shadow scattered over his shoulders, dancing wildly in a brisk wind from an opened door, sauntering up and down and shaking in rhythm with a silent, reverberating thumping that was grasping at and rattling his bones.

"I think it would be wise to refrain from talking to my brother like that," the room collectively snapped its gaze to the doorway, and Aelin rose to her feet instantly.

Before them all stood a pale but healing y/n. She was grasping at her side but walked forward with a pride Aelin had never seen before, not in someone who was hours ago so close to the grave. There was something dark about her, the power itself or the contrast of her hair and eyes against her whitened skin Aelin wasn't sure. But what was clear was that she knew something, the truth and ire dancing in the dimness of her eyes. Something that could change the course of all of their fates.

Y/N's silver skirt kissed the ground as she stopped at Rhys' side, laying her hand atop his shoulder and squeezing it weakly, "I can understand being protective," y/n moved her eyes around the room, slowly raking over each one of her Erilean family, "But don't be mistaken into believing that threatening my blood is big or wise. I decided to take to those skies alone. It is my doing and mine alone."

Azriel felt his heart stop when her eyes finally found him, and he stood instantly, offering his arm and seat and feeling a sense of completeness when she accepted his touch and found comfort in the sensation of his presence behind her.

"Y/N-"

"I'm not finished," a voice of dread and death cut through the plea that fell from Aedion's lips, a voice of a ruler, a voice of one of the most deadly beings the universe would ever know. Inhaling deeply, y/n closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was preparing herself for something, and in sensing her discomfort and hesitation, Azriel lay his hand at the top of her spine, allowing every emotion and ounce of pain to wash through his veins.

Y/N visibly relaxed.

"In my sleep, the attack played in my mind over and over again, not like a nightmare, but in a way to make me see the truth. To push me to see beyond the pain," her eyes were downcast, but she moved backward into Azriel's hand, feeling a blanket of certainty and warmth coiling around her frame. "When I was flying over their camp, I felt the power of the cauldron. It was a drowning feeling, it made me feel confused almost, and I felt a certain type of dread. I was scared."

Y/N's eyes dragged down the table, settling on Rowan with eyebrows tight and fear visible within her irises. "There has only ever been one form of power that has ever made me feel like that. Maybe I was too wrapped up in what was happening to realise it."

"What are you saying, y/n?" Rowan urged, knuckles turning pale from his grip around the arms of his chair.

Without thinking about it, y/n's fingers faintly traced over the scar that had held Azriel's attention in the cabin. A morbid reminder.

"Dorian and I had a theory. That souls from our world didn't pass on into the afterlife but rather fell through the plains separating Erilea from other worlds. It had only ever really been a theory, but it was something that we couldn't stop thinking about. It haunted us in a way."

Because they had both lost a parent.

"But being here now with a poison in my veins so putrid and complex that no one from this world could have ever known of it. I realise what is happening." Aelin leaned forward, gaze flickering over the face of her friend until their eyes met. "There is only one person who knows how to make it. Only one person who would find joy in seeing me dead. Only one person who would seek to ensure the upmost pain. Only one person whose power terrifies me."

Aelin's eyes blew wide. "No," she spoke a hush above a whisper, "It can't be. She's dead. You killed her."

"What's going on?" Rhys entwined his fingers with those of his sister, feeling her fear bristling against the walls of her mind like a battering ram, splintering and wrecking the cage of her consciousness.

Realisation was floating about the room, to all those bar the Inner Circle. Rowan's head hung low, his eyes closed and nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale, and Aedion couldn't lift his eyes from the tabletop.

"Maeve is here. My mother has come to punish me by devouring your world. Only when you're all dead will she kill me, and then can she conquer Erilea for the final time. Who knows, she might even keep me alive long enough to watch Doranelle and Terrasen burn." Y/N turned to Rhys, bottom lip almost wobbling, "I'm sorry. This is happening because of what I did."

Rhys dropped to his knees before her, taking her burning face in his hands and stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. "We'll face it. We'll face her. And may the Mother grant her some mercy when I get my hands on her." He read the depleting light in her eyes, knowing that whatever energy she had been granted was wavering. "Let's get you back to bed. We can face this tomorrow. We still have time."

The High Lord of the Night Court went to hook an arm beneath his sisters arms, but she wrenched herself away to the side, still under the touch of Azriel, and looked upward to him. It was a silent plead, the widened watering eyes and a gentle shrug that lifted her shoulders.

Azriel moved instantly, scooping y/n into his arms and hugging her tightly into his chest, propping his chin on the crown of her head as he wordlessly carried her away.

Author's Note

I know it's been ages and I'M SO SORRY

Taglist

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[trikaranos]

TRIKARANOS: THE PROLOGUE

TRIKARANOS is a comic about Crassus until it isn't. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read (in the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to make it through Patreon!)

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the Public Domain [as per the Met's Open Access policy]

🍊 The Abduction of the Sabine Women, Nicolas Poussin 🍊 Obverse, a Terracotta neck-amphora depicting Aeneas rescuing his father, Anchises, during the fall of Troy. [description taken from the Met] 🍊 compositional study for The Lictors Bringing Brutus the Bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David 🍊The Battle of Vercellae, Giovanni Battista Tiepolo 🍊 The Capture of Carthage, Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

UNDER THE CUT creator's commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn't need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it's a comic and a story first and foremost, but it's here if you're curious and want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

so! there are a couple of accounts about the return of Marius and Cinna, I've chosen Appian's account for the primary source of inspiration, although I've cut the cast down to it's barest essentials because I want the claustrophobia of violence to really eat itself.

Cinna now began to despise his enemies and drew near to the wall, halting out of range, and encamped. Octavius and his party were undecided and fearful, and hesitated to attack him on account of the desertions and the negotiations. The Senate was greatly perplexed and considered it a dreadful thing to depose Lucius Merula, the priest of Jupiter, who had been chosen consul in place of Cinna, and who had done nothing wrong in his office. Yet on account of the impending danger it reluctantly sent envoys to Cinna again, and this time as consul. They no longer expected favourable terms, so they only asked that Cinna should swear to them that he would abstain from bloodshed. He refused to take the oath, but he promised nevertheless that he would not willingly be the cause of anybody's death. He directed, however, that Octavius, who had gone round and entered the city by another gate, should keep away from the forum lest anything should befall him against his own will. This answer he delivered to the envoys from a high platform in his character as consul. Marius stood in silence beside the curule chair, but showed by the asperity of his countenance the slaughter he contemplated. When the Senate had accepted these terms and had invited Cinna and Marius to enter (for it was understood that, while it was Cinna's name which appeared, the moving spirit was Marius), the latter said with a scornful smile that it was not lawful for men banished to enter. Forthwith the tribunes voted to repeal the decree of banishment against him and all the others who were expelled under the consul­ship of Sulla.

Accordingly Cinna and Marius entered the city and everybody received them with fear. Straightway they began to plunder without hindrance all the goods of those who were supposed to be of the opposite party. Cinna and Marius had sworn to Octavius, and the augurs and soothsayers had predicted, that he would suffer no harm, yet his friends advised him to fly. He replied that he would never desert the city while he was consul. So he withdrew from the forum to the Janiculum with the nobility and what was left of his army, where he occupied the curule chair and wore the robes of office, attended as consul by lictors. Here he was attacked by Censorinus with a body of horse, and again his friends and the soldiers who stood by him urged him to fly and brought him his horse, but he disdained even to arise, and awaited death. Censorinus cut off his head and carried it to Cinna, and it was suspended in the forum in front of the rostra, the first head of a consul that was so exposed. After him the heads of others who were slain were suspended there; and this shocking custom, which began with Octavius, was not discontinued, but was handed down to subsequent massacres.

Appian, Civil Wars I, 70-71 (trans. Horace White)

Plutarch's biography of Marius also recounts the same event, but I was leaning more on Appian for this.

ALSO! the choice to use Giovanni Battista Tiepolo's painting The Capture of Carthage as a backdrop to Octavius: it's because Cinna and Octavius were co consuls for a minute and Rome and Carthage are twin cities (instar Carthaginis urbem babyyy), and I do love the doubling/twin-ification of a thing. which is what co consuls are to me. we're overlapping the themes, in addition to the overlapping of violence, which is what all iterations of Rome are founded on.

Textual Monuments: Reconstructing Carthage in Augustan Literary Culture, Nora Goldschmidt

the chapter cover is my own illustration of an Etruscan kantharos because Crassus may or may not have had some kind of Etruscan heritage. YMMV but for me it's fun to think about

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward (& the citation!)

[poppy-s-rampage]

Once a Hero.

Chapter 1: Too late!

Warnings: Blood, Gore and violence. You can't sue me now!

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Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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The Master of time leaned over the unmoving form of his young protegee, forceps needle and thread in hands. The old ghost deftly redid the stitches on the youngest torso. Slowly but surely closing the jagged ‘Y’ shaped wound shut.

‘How did it come to this?’

All it took was one minute of inattention for the young Halfa's timeline to be put in jeopardy. In a single moment of inattention, Daniel’s timeline tangled with another stray unstable one and merged. By the time Clockwork noticed, the timelines were already fused to the point of no return. Reality wrapped to fit the new Frankenstein series of events. So he did what he could, snip at some parts, and twist at others to make it so his protegee could have a chance of survival and still having a goodish timeline.

The gaping wound now finally shut, the old ghost went to treat the boy’s muzzle cuts and throat. The apparatus, when destroyed by the wail, had split open the right cheek’s flesh from the corner of the Halfas mouth, carving a morbid half smile. The boy’s tongue was bloody but could still be salvaged with diluted ectoplasm. The real problem was the throat; it was impossible to currently heal to a usable level with the concentration of ectoplasm he could safely use on Danny.

He was no Frostbite, but he was more than capable of putting back together the young ghost in a Time out. Daniel was too unstable to stay in the infinite realms, his core still too raw for pure Ecto. It would be like feeding a 10-year comatose patient a buffet after being kept alive via IV, transfer the concept to a fragilized and forcefully balanced core, and you get the idea.  It was also a way to better realize the consequences of his mistake. But not to apologize, nothing would ever be enough to fix what Daniel had endured.

Clockwork stopped believing in apologies an eternity ago.

It all had happened so fast, Phantom had no chance of changing the course of events. Ironically, the current timeline was the best possible outcome after the incident.

While his protegee’s original timeline’s parents would have been accepting of his heritage, the ones of the intruding unstable timeline were not. ‘Monsters’ would have been too kind of a word to describe them. Curiosity plagued individuals who could have given Dan a run for his money. The origin of a world’s collapse, the cause of too many deaths, terrifying geniuses with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and slaves of their obsessions. Even their children didn’t hold enough value for them to spare.

Thankfully, this world didn’t come to that and was still salvageable. Unfortunately, too many people have already lost their lives and existence to his mistake.

It had been like any tranquil day in young Daniel's life. He woke up groggy after a night of patrolling, went to school, hung out with his friends, patrolled a bit, saved a few weaker ghosts, stopped a few accidents and then went back home. The young Halfa had planned to finally reveal his identity to his parents- with no little insistence and encouragement from his sister and the reassurance of the previous Freakshow happenings. (He, of course, delayed the moment as much as he could.)

Of course, Clockwork had already watched and analyzed all the possible futures caused by this decision. He had assured Danny that no harm would befall him.

And since every possible happening was in Daniel’s favor, the ghost of time left the timeline out of his watch in favor of fixing yet another mess the Speedster’s had caused.

Seriously, what kind of mentally challenged troglodyte would erase an entire timeline to enjoy a cheap burger in loop instead of buying another!

*Crack*

The forceps broke in his hand. The Ancient summoned another one. Moving to stitch the lacerations on his king’s arms and legs.

It had, sadly, taken a while for the Master of Time to fix the Flash themed issues. It then took him an even longer while to salvage the tangled mess of timelines. He was far too late to save Danny’s loved ones. Humans, even Liminals, were fragile.

—-------------------

The reveal had gone well at first, Jack and Maddie had accepted their son’s new nature. But then the timelines merged, the Fenton parents became one with their alternates and the world was set ablaze.

The youngest Fenton was promptly drugged and knocked out, only to wake up on a dissection table. His parents and a few GIW agents circling him, tools in hand. The hours, maybe days, Daniel spent in these creatures’ grasps were a nightmare made real.

His sister and friends tried to free him, only to be captured and fall victim to the same fate. Amity Park’s younger population mutinied against the agency and scientists but quickly got shut down. Brutally. The city was deemed a lost cause and put on lock down. The elder Fentons and the GIW galvanized by their success, went after every single being standing in their way in the name of science and self-defense.

It was too much for the young Halfa. His every waking moment being haunted by monsters wearing the skin of people he used to know and love. To hear the same people who raised and loved him gloating at the harm they caused his fraid. At the harm they caused him, vindictive. Every ounce of strength Danny had went into figuring out a way to save what he had left. But alas, he was too late.

Everything culminated the moment the agents and his parents reentered the room for the how manyth time. Their make believe faces fixed into a cruel smirk, smiles too wide, eyes too bright and too many teeth. Were the ghosts truly the monsters ?

Black opaque bags were dragged into the room next. A dreadful foreboding feeling caressed his spine. It was different. What were they planning?! What did they do?!

Panic seized the Halfa’s heart, hair standing on end. Eyes wide and pupils dilating as he noticed the strong smell of copper permeating from the bags.  His restrained limbs shaking at the realization of the truth he oh so wanted to deny. 

The monsters kept talking, taunting and accusing him of something. Blaming him. But he didn’t ‘hear’ them over his ever rising dread.

They opened the bags and his world came crashing down.

Three lifeless barely recognizable corpses. Chest opened in a bloody imitation of a butterfly. Missing limbs and organs. An innumerable number of lacerations. All indicators of a painful and slow death. But yet their eyes remained closed into acceptance and welcoming the relief of death.

He wailed.

Despite the muzzle, despite his already severed vocal cords. The wail coming from his very core blasted everything in his surroundings. The muzzle shattered, the monsters vaporized into a red mist and the walls became debris.

The building shook. The creatures in human skin panicked trying desperately to flee the premise but they were too late.

The latest experimental portal meant to be mass produced by the GIW resonated with the Wail and destabilized. The explosion that followed erased the facility and its surroundings and triggered the original Fenton portal which in turn wiped the city above off the maps.

Every single being died. The GIW agents, the Fentons, the citizens and some of the weaker ghosts. The stronger Phantom rogues weren’t even in the range or succeeded in escaping. The Fentons and GIW were still ‘thankfully’ useless when it came to capturing them.

And then there was Phantom.

Unfortunately or fortunately for him.

Forever the exception.

--------------------------------------

Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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Author note:

Hello! Thank you for reading! This time I didn't write this at 3 am!

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I wrote it at 5am! Insomnia says what?

[everypigeondeserveslove]

I think Liliana's "Did she know?" wasn't about her, it was, "Did Imogen know that bombing me would also kill these children?"

Well, I just don't think that.

But on the theory of Lilianas being upset about children having died and questioning Imogen's involvement in it, I have a few thoughts

The idea that children were actively target and/or murdered is very presumptive of the fandom. It feels like someone whispered this theory into the fandom wind and now it's in my inbox.

If it were about the children, I still think she a hypocrite. In fact I'd say she's a even bigger hypocrite in that scenario because why the fuck where there children there to begin with. Liliana who was going around Imogen's dreams telling her to run, was also brining children into this cursed environment. The Ruby Vanguard is just not a place for a children. Hot take the moon should be childfree, not every place should accommodate children.

Also on the topic of children being there, they are child soldiers. Liliana is not a running a orphanage on the moon, she is a GENERAL. She is quite literally a general of an occupying force, the general with the most influence over Ludinus, who is being actively targeted by a native rebel group. She is actively training these kids to aid the Ruby Vanguard's cause. And once again, she is doing all of this while actively telling Imogen to not come to the moon. I am of the belief that the general who is recruiting child soldiers should shoulder most, if not all, responsibility for the harm that befalls those children.

Now I don't have access to rewatch the episode right now but I don't think the explosion came from Rashinna's group. The way it was described, being all pink and stuff, I presumed the explosion was a result of Liliana reacting to the assassination attempt (assassination attempts notoriously stressful for all parties involved). All we know of the rebel group is that they had some devices that were intended to hinder Lilianas powers and I don't think they said anything about them exploding.

And another thing.... I think this episode ended on a cliff hanger and people are doing olympic level gymnastics to justify anything that could reflect badly on Liliana.

[argisthebulwark]

All Emotion Dripped Away

summary: skyrim men and their red flags <3 gn reader, no gendered terms or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Cicero, Mercer warnings: some unhealthy relationship dynamics.

Brynjolf's inability to commit is maddening. The worst part is that you understand exactly what led to him acting this way - losing Karliah and Gallus at such a young age, Mercer effectively ruining every positive moment they've shared, thinking that he's lost you. You can understand his aversion to committing himself to another person but the knowledge doesn't make it any easier to handle. "Must we put a label on it?" He groans, dragging your chair closer to his. He leans closer, lips only a few inches away - he knows exactly what he's doing. It's his most common maneuver - kiss you until you can hardly think, distracting you from anything deeper. "It's difficult to think with you so close." You breathe, attempting to resist his charm. "Aye, as you've said." "Don't you want more?" You ask, allowing his fingers to creep under your armor. "Why ruin a good thing?" His kiss is full of heat, a promise for more to come if you're willing to forget this conversation.

At first, Miraak's protectiveness was sweet. He accompanied you on missions far from home and fought at your side. Losing Mora's power had only caused him to become more focused on retaining the skills he had. Over time, it grew. You noticed him tagging along on shorter trips, soon finding that even a quick visit to a nearby village for supplies was a two person job. You'd faced dragons and giants, climbed High Hrothgar and aided in the resolution of a Civil War - yet it seemed you couldn't be trusted to walk a few miles from home. "I don't want to risk you, my love." He insists, falling into step at your side. "What if you were harmed? What if you're hurt and no one is there to aid you?" You don't like this almost childish way he seems to view you - once he'd doted on you, though now it almost seems as if he doesn't trust you to walk without some grievous injury befalling you. He's coddling you.

As an outsider, Vilkas had always appeared confident, headstrong, willing to tackle any problem. He's strong and intelligent and well spoken, of course he can handle things. As a partner, you've been surprised by his avoidance. When you were a recruit he had no trouble voicing your many faults, even as his Harbinger he's been critical - but not his partner. Those problems remain firmly within his own mind. You know he bottles them up, stewing on these emotions until he talks himself out of being upset, rationalizing everything. "If you don't tell me what it is you need, I cannot give it to you." You've pleaded with him, desperate to make this work. "I love you more than I can say - please, all I need is for you to talk to me." "There is nothing to talk about."

Farkas' recklessness had saved your ass on many occasions, but as his spouse it left you a nervous wreck. He'd often laugh off your worries before leaving for days, unable to communicate due to clearing out some bandit camp. His lack of self preservation reduced you to a mess of nerves, trying to work through it but unable to stop your eyes from wandering each time a door opened. "It's not a big deal." Farkas pouts, kneeling before you. His armor's all strapped into place and a pack of supplies hangs over one shoulder - he's about to leave again. Your heart kicks into overdrive, fingers shaking when they clasp the sides of his face. "I always come back safe, dear." He reminds you, that easy grin on his face. "Do you not trust me out there without you?" "I'd feel quite a bit better if I were at your side." You admit, staring pointedly at the sword slung across his back. "We do work well together." He agrees, a kiss planted on your cheek before he stands. "But you're the Harbinger, you have more important duties." Of course you did - your duties included paperwork and worrying, both of which were beginning to wear on your nerves.

You can't fault poor Cicero for his inexperience - he spent far too many years alone, no one but the Night Mother to keep him company. Isolation had changed him, left him lacking the knowledge many others took for granted. Of course you love him, you'd fallen head over heels for the fool and never looked back, but your relationship didn't come without it's own trials. He'd never learned the common things to do in a relationship; little things many couples did like dates were nonexistent and he had no clue how a normal relationship was paced. Falling for each other was easy, why hold back? Why not go all the way? It didn't help that his relationship with the other assassins was strained at best - some were friendly, others shut him out entirely. You were the only one he could turn to, the only one willing to share a meal and a laugh with your beloved Keeper. "Listener, will you teach poor Cicero how to love you?" He coos, gently combing the hair away from your face. Your first instinct is to refuse, to tell him that it's too much - but the peaceful smile melts your heart. "I want to love you the right way."

Often, you find yourself what Mercer likes more - being with you or keeping secrets from you. He omits things that don't even matter which only heightens your anxiety on the topic; if he's willing to lie about something as trivial as who went on what job or which client he's meeting with, what else could he be hiding from you? You tell yourself that it's nothing, just a survival trait he's picked up over the decades of leading the Thieves Guild, but it's impossible to ignore. He doesn't seem to enjoy the jealousy it incites within you but you can't quite puzzle out what he gets from it. In the end, it's easier to accept that he merely enjoys keeping secrets. Only the gods knew how long it had been since he'd last opened up to anyone and you were afraid that prying would make him snap shut the little window you've carved out in his heart.

[pxob]

cold hands warm heart

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader

MINORS BEWARE!

Word count: 8502

Category: Enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, angst and fluff.

Warnings: Manga spoilers (if you squint), mention of gore and blood, injury, violence, heavy swearing, slight sexual content and kissing.

Presented in the tranquil stone garden of the Demon Slayers headquarters were nine noble warriors, each with astonishing power and unwavering resolve. Masters of their own unique breathing techniques, they represented the pinnacle of the Demon Slayer Corps. Adorned with various strengths, each Hashira was devoted to safeguarding humanity from the terrors of Demons and pledging never to allow harm to befall the Ubuyashiki clan.

As Ubuyashiki stood on the engawa, the Hashira hung their heads low in respect. Their muscles tensed as they felt the powerful presence of another.

Suddenly, the gates to the Demon Slayer headquarters creaked open, and a gust of wind stirred up the silence. Two Kakushi scurried in, bowing low as their eyes fell upon the nine pillars and Ubuyashiki. They addressed him, "Ubuyashiki-sama, she's here," before swiftly leaving.

The Hashira’s sat in stunned silence; their eyes widened in surprise as they beheld the figure before them. Your presence was palpable, your power radiating from every pore of your being, sending shivers down their spines. As you drew closer, they could see the determination burning in your eyes, and the confidence with which you moved was almost otherworldly. Your footsteps were so quiet that you seemed to blend into the air around you, as if you were a being of pure elegance. When you finally reached Ubuyashiki, you bowed with such grace that even the stone garden seemed to hold its breath in reverence.

Ubuyashiki's gentle voice reverberated through the garden as he greeted you, "How wonderful it is to have you among us." His kind eyes scanned the gathered Hashiras before he continued, "Allow me to introduce our newest member," the weight of their collective gaze fell upon you. You stood tall and met their stares with unwavering confidence, “The Night Hashira,” he continued.

“I am deeply grateful for this honour, Oyakata-sama, and to stand among the esteemed Hashiras." As the words left your lips, a sudden surge of power erupted from within you, causing even the stoic Tomioka to choke in response. The air around you seemed to hum with electricity as the other Hashiras eyes widened in awe. Tengen let out a low whistle of admiration. "Well, well, well," he said, his trademark smirk appearing on his lips, "I think we're in for a real treat with this one."

“Please, make her feel welcomed,” as Ubuyashiki's words reached your ears, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his kind gesture. A soft smile graced your lips as you bowed your head in acknowledgement, hiding the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Thank you, Oyakata-sama," you whispered, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your voice. With that, Ubuyashiki left the engawa, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, leaving you alone with the Hashiras.

You knew that earning their approval would not be an easy task, but you were determined to prove yourself worthy of your new title.

"Hello- Hi! I'm Mitsuri Kanroji," exclaimed the young woman with thick, greenish-pink locks, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She flashed you a bright smile. Beside her stood a short boy, half of his face obscured by bandages, with striking heterochromatic eyes. "And this is Obanai Iguro," she introduced her companion, who offered a polite nod in your direction.

“Shinobu Kocho,” said a young woman with hair in shades of purple.

“Ah, hello. It’s an honour to be introduced to all of you,” you said with a bow. “I apologize for my abrupt entrance,” you added.

Kanroji beamed with a warm smile, “Oh, no need to apologize, we’re happy to have you here! It's great to see another woman among the ranks. We'll finally have someone who can help keep these boys in line," she teased, winking playfully.

Kocho chuckled softly, "Yes, indeed. There's too much testosterone in this group. A little bit of feminine charm might do them some good," she added with a sly smile.

"This is ridiculous," a voice interrupted from behind you, causing Kocho’s face to turn sour.

You turned around to see a man with scars littering his body. Despite his rough exterior, you found his scars strangely attractive, a testament to the battles he must have fought. However, his attitude was far from attractive.

"You, a Hashira? We ain't ever seen you fight or train," he sneered, his eyes scanning you up and down with a smirk. "Who said ya got the capabilities? I've seen enough to know you're just a weakling who got lucky."

“Shinazugawa-san," the tallest one warned sharply. The girlish-looking boy spoke up, "He does have a point. If she proves herself, she might be worthy of our approval."

"You're entitled to your opinion," you replied calmly, your voice echoing through the garden as you met Shinazugawa’s piercing gaze. "But let me tell you, I didn't get here by sitting idly. I have faced countless demons and emerged victorious from each encounter. So, I assure you that I'm more than capable of holding my own in battle."

Your words hung in the air, and for a moment, he started prowling towards you, his steps slow and calculating, as if he was sizing up his prey.

As Shinazugawa drew closer, you couldn't help but notice the scent of sandalwood and lavender emanating from him, a combination that was both soothing and intense. It was a stark contrast to the scars that criss-crossed his muscular body.

Finally, he stopped a healthy distance in front of you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of weakness. You held his gaze, unflinching, until he finally spoke. "You talk big shit, but it’s all cheap," his teeth were gritted. "Actions speak louder than words, so show me what you can do, bitch," he spat venomously.

“Oi, Shinazugawa-san that’s enough-“

Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your Nichirin sword, a weapon crafted uniquely for yourself to better face the demons you were born to fight. Today, it was to confront Shinazugawa and his shit attitude.

“Stop them-“

As you drew your sword, you could feel Shinazugawa’s eyes on you, his body tensing in preparation for battle.

“I want to watch them though.”

The metal rang out as it left its scabbard, filling the air with a sharp, piercing sound.

“Tokito-kun, don’t say that.”

Without hesitation, Shinazugawa also reached for his own sword, a fierce determination etched onto his face.

“Himejima-san, please stop them.”

You knew then that this was it - a clash between two Hashiras, each one determined to prove themselves the stronger.

“Sto-“

With lightning speed, you charged towards Shinazugawa, your sword raised high above your head. His eyes widened in surprise as he barely managed to dodge your attack, but you were one step ahead. As he turned to face you, you disappeared from sight, only to reappear behind him in a flash of movement. Without giving him a chance to react, you swept his feet and tackled him to the ground, pinning his neck with the hilt of your sword, legs constraining his arms while you positioned yourself to straddle him.

Shinazugawa thrashed beneath you, his muscles straining against your hold, but you refused to let go. Your heart raced with adrenaline as you felt his hot breath on your face, but you held fast, determined to prove your worth.

“You know,” you leaned closer to Shinazugawa’s ear, your hair brushing against his cheek. “If you wanted to ask me out, there are better ways to do it than trying to kill me,” you whispered in his ear, low and dangerous.

He jerked his head forward in an attempt to brutally headbutt you, but you swiftly dodged, disappearing from on top of him in a split second, with your sword returning to its scabbard. Shinazugawa’s eyes were now glowing red, his appearance the embodiment of pure rage. "You fucking wish," he spat, the saliva landing beside you as he struggled to regain his footing.

“No, I do not,” you said firmly, your gaze fixed on Shinazugawa’s enraged expression. Turning on your heel, you walked towards the gates, leaving the gathered Hashira behind you.

“Well deserved!” exclaimed Rengoku, clapping his hands together in admiration. Shinazugawa growled in response, his eyes still glowing with fury. "Shut the fuck up, I went easy on her," he retorted as he stood up, dusting off the dirt and pebbles from his uniform and skin.

A week later, the Swordsmith Village.

“Seeing Shinazugawa-san that angry was truly painful for me,” Kanroji sighed, her expression pensive. “You must have really struck a nerve with him. No one has ever started a fight with him on first meeting.”

You sunk deeper into the hot spring, relishing the warmth as you tried to shake off the encounter with Shinazugawa.

Kanroji’s voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention. "I haven't seen him since then, no one has," she said, her tone filled with concern. "I wonder if he's okay."

You lifted your head slightly, watching as Kanroji rested her elbows on a nearby rock and buried her face in her hands.

As you soaked in the hot spring, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Looking up, you saw a female Kakushi approaching.

"Kanroji-san, your blade has been restored," she said, bowing respectfully.

“Oh, how lovely! I'll be down there shortly,” Kanroji replied with a bright smile. Then she turned to you, her expression still joyful. “I hope to see you at dinner too! We're going to have such a feast, I can't wait! Just thinking about all the food makes me so happy!” As she spoke, she started to wrap herself in her kimono.

“Yes, I’ll join you. Please, go ahead,” you said kindly, as you began to submerge yourself into the hot spring, blocking out any noise that tried to penetrate your senses. You couldn't help but overhear muffled voices from above the water's surface. You recognized Kanroji’s voice, she sounded shocked, but there was a deeper tone that made your heart race.

No.

Oh god no.

You immediately popped your head up, scanning the area to see if anyone was approaching. Surely, Kanroji would have warned any potential visitors that a woman was currently bathing in the hot spring. But it appeared that she had not, typical love Hashira.

It had been a week since the incident with Shinazugawa, and there he was, standing before you. He looked just as striking as before with his artwork of scars and chiselled muscles.

You were gawking at him.

But you quickly regained your composure, realizing that you were both staring at each other in complete silence. His expression was one of shock, and you felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you.

You could practically hear Kanroji’s playful laugher. She’s going to get an earful at dinner.

He mumbled an apology, and you sat there dumbfounded. “What?” you blurted out confused.

"Like... walking in on ya takin' a bath," he replied, his words a little muddled.

As you looked at Shinazugawa, you couldn't believe that this was the same person who had tried to put up a fight with you. Just as you were about to stand up from the hot spring, the realization that you were completely naked hit you, and you quickly sat your backside down again, not wanting to expose yourself in front of him.

"Do you mind-" you began to say, but trailed off as you noticed Shinazugawa staring at you.

"Huh?" he replied, seeming to have missed your question.

"Just turn around for a bit," you said, feeling your face grow hot.

"Oh- oh yeah. Yeah, my bad," he said, quickly turning around.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself. “Sorry, could you pass that?" you asked.

"Pass what?" he asked, confused.

"My kimono, it's right beside you," you said, feeling a bit annoyed.

"What? Oh, yeah," he said, tossing your kimono backwards to avoid catching a glimpse of your naked body.

You quickly wrapped yourself in the kimono, skipping the process of drying yourself just to get out of the awkward situation. Your hair stuck to your face and the thin material of the kimono felt like a damp towel that made you shiver as your skin's moisture clung onto it.

You were freezing and Shinazugawa took notice.

As you made to pass him, Shinazugawa extended his arm to stop you, and you gave him a puzzled look. He then removed his haori and offered it to you. "You're freezing your tits off, take it," he said with a gruff voice.

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him to find him looking anywhere but you. You felt a bit embarrassed about accepting his gesture, but the cold was too much to bear, right? So, you gratefully took the haori and wrapped it around your shivering body. The fabric was warm and devastatingly smelt of him.

He mumbled something under his breath, but you couldn't quite make it out.

“What?" you asked, looking up at him, hoping he would repeat himself.

He snapped back, "Said, get outta here."

You stared at him for a few seconds, taken aback by his sudden hostility. As you descended the stairs, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about the whole situation.

You turned back to look at Shinazugawa. He was still standing there, like a statue, and you couldn't help but notice that the tips of his ears were tinted red.

As you entered the room, Kanroji greeted you with excitement, exclaiming, "I knew it would work! Your best friends now!" You were still processing the encounter with Shinazugawa, but the aroma of the dishes brought you back to reality.

You noticed the variety of dishes laid out on the table, and your stomach grumbled in anticipation. "Let's eat, Kanroji-san," you sat down at the table, still lost in thought, but the food managed to distract you.

As you ate, Kanroji chattered on about different topics, her bubbly personality keeping you company even when your thoughts trailed away. You found yourself gradually relaxing, enjoying the meal and her company.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, as he sat in the hot spring with his head tilted back, staring up at the night sky. Everything seemed to remind him of her, and it only served to further infuriate him. "She's so fuckin’ annoying," he grumbled, his frustration growing with every passing second. "Why the hell did I give her that?" He shifted his gaze to the stairs where he had last seen her, his jaw clenched tightly.

His Kasugai crow landed beside him, and Shinazuagwa peered at him, tracing his index finger over the soft feathers of his head.

“We’re going on that mission,” he spoke to his Kasugai crow, which perched on a nearby rock. Its beady eyes peered back at him, as if acknowledging his words. “Twelve moon, right?” Shinazugawa continued, his expression showing a hint of excitement. “Gon’ be a piece of cake,” He smirked.

Shinazugawa ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled deeply. “Need to get outta here anyways,” he muttered, gazing out at the surrounding landscape.

You approached the Flame Hashira with a respectful bow as he trained. "Rengoku-san," you said, catching his attention. He turned towards you with a smile and asked, "Oh! What brings you here?"

“Ah, well,” you said sheepishly. "I was hoping you could help me. I'm looking for Shinazugawa-san. Do you happen to know where he resides or where I could find him?" You paused for a moment, feeling a little nervous.

Rengoku expression softened as he noticed your nervousness. "Of course, I know where he lives. Would you like me to escort you?"

You nodded, grateful for the offer. Rengoku stood up from his seat and gestured for you to follow him. As you walked together, he asked, "Is everything alright? You seem a bit uneasy."

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "I just need to return something."

"No, Shinazugawa-sama is not here," the female servant informed you with a polite bow.

You pressed on, "Do you happen to know where he is?"

"He's on a mission," she replied.

You grew impatient and asked, "What type of mission?"

"It's something in relation to the Twelve Moon," she responded calmly.

You could feel Rengoku stiffen at the mention of the Twelve Moon. "Twelve Moon?!" you exclaimed.

The servant nodded, "Yes, he's perfectly capable."

"Shit," you whispered under your breath. "When will he return?" you asked the female servant, feeling a sense of urgency.

"It could possibly be less or more than a month," she replied in a respectful tone.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. A month was longer than you had hoped.

"Why don't you give it to her instead?" Rengoku interjected, noticing your disappointment.

You shook your head, "It's okay, I'll return it to Shinazugawa-san myself," you replied with a small smile, determined to wait for his return.

Rengoku stared at you, his eyes widening for some unknown reason. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, both of your Kasugai crows swooped in, relaying the same message.

You both ran with fervour, your hearts pounding with urgency as you raced towards your destination.

Upper Moon 2 and 3 attacking a village to the west

Shinazugawa was there, alone with those demons. The thought of him facing those powerful beings by himself sent chills down your spine, and you pushed yourself to go faster.

As you approached the village, the scene before you was nothing short of chaos. Smoke billowed up into the sky, blackening the once peaceful atmosphere of the village. The sound of screams and cries of panic filled your ears, a clear indication of the destruction that had taken place.

As you ran through the streets, you saw houses that were once sturdy and intact, now reduced to rubble and debris. The lifeless bodies of citizens lay scattered among the ruins, their blood seeping into the ground beneath them. Some of the survivors were running frantically, trying to escape the horror that had befallen them.

Amidst the chaos, you suddenly caught a whiff of sandalwood and lavender, a scent that you recognized all too well. Without a moment's hesitation, you drew your sword from its scabbard, ready for whatever lay ahead.

"Rengoku-san, follow me," you ordered, as you began to sprint towards the source of the scent.

"It's not just Upper 2 and 3," you informed Rengoku, your eyes scanning the area. Weak demons were scattered all around, causing chaos and destruction. Suddenly, one demon leaped towards you, and Rengoku yelled out a warning.

With one swift stroke of your sword, you effortlessly decapitated the demon and continued towards your destination.

“Rengoku-san,” you said firmly. “Please take care of the civilians. I'll handle the upper moons on my own.”

Rengoku opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him, throwing him a reassuring smile over your shoulder. "I'll be fine," you said, your tone calm.

After a moment of hesitation, Rengoku nodded reluctantly, “Be careful.”

He circled back towards the heart of the village where the citizens were gathered, offering them his full support. Meanwhile, you were making your way towards Shinazugawa, but as you got closer, you felt a sudden drop in temperature, the air growing icy cold.

The ground beneath your feet was no longer dirt, but instead, it was now coated with ice.

Doma.

You sprinted towards the scene of the battle, your heart pounding against your chest as you saw Shinazugawa fighting fiercely against the upper ranks. He was holding his on, his sword gleaming in the dim moonlight as he expertly dodged and parried their attacks.

But as you drew closer, you could see that his movements were becoming more sluggish, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He was clearly tiring, and the demons were taking advantage of it. Doma casted ice into small particles, filling the air with a freezing chill.

Your mind raced as you realized the danger Shinazugawa was in. If he breathed in that ice, his lungs would collapse, he’d be unable to fight any longer. You opened your mouth to shout a warning, but before you could make a sound, Shinazugawa unleashed his seventh form.

In an instant, the air was filled with a gust of wind as Shinazugawa’s technique cast away the ice particles, scattering them in all directions. The force of the attack sent the demons staggering backward, giving Shinazugawa a momentary respite.

“Fifth form, Shooting Stars.” With lightning-fast movements, you darted through the field, attacking the two demons from every angle.

Your swordsmanship was unparalleled as you gracefully weaved through the air, moving with a fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly. The two demons were caught off guard as you darted around them, striking with a speed that left them reeling. Your strikes were precise, aimed directly at their weak points, and you took advantage of every opening with a calm and calculated efficiency.

"Doma, you little shit," you growled. Your eyes narrowed as you saw him chanting. You braced yourself for the worst as an enormous Bodhisattva statue surrounded by lotuses made of ice spawned from the surface you were standing on. You tried to dodge, but the ice vines sprouting from the lotuses entangled you, snaring all over your body and dragging you towards the statue, towards Doma.

You struggled to break free, feeling the vines tightening around your limbs and cutting into your flesh. You knew that if you didn't act fast, your bones would break under the pressure.

"Little Night Hashira, we meet again!" he exclaimed with a smile, completely oblivious to the fact that you were only seconds away from delivering the final blow. "You are still as gorgeous as ever, and you smell heavenly too," he added, his tone suggestive.

You had only crossed paths a handful of times in missions, yet he acted as if you were old friends.

Your grip tightened around the hilt of your sword, your eyes narrowing as you glared at him. His smug expression only served to infuriate you further, the veins tightened even more.

"You’re mistaken if you think I have any interest in your flattery, Doma," you spat blood. "I’m here to end your pitiful existence.”

Doma's expression faltered for a moment, but then he chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you’re always so fierce. That's what makes you so irresistible."

But before you could retort, your attention was diverted to Shinazugawa’s whereabouts. You scanned the area, but he was nowhere to be found. Panic set in as you realized he could be in danger.

You darted your eyes around, searching frantically for any sign of him.

"Looking for someone, Little Night Hashira?" he asked with a sinister tone, grinning. "Hm... Your little Wind Hashira, perhaps?" He giggled, clearly knowing something you didn't. "He's an amazing fighter, you know. Akaza wants to turn him. He'd be an amazing Upper Moon." His voice was taunting.

A searing pain erupted in your side, causing you to gasp for air. You looked down to see a deep gash across your abdomen, blood flowing freely from the wound. You gazed back at Doma, his fan covering his mouth as he hid his smug smile.

You tried to speak, but blood gurgled out of your mouth, choking you. “Where-“ you managed to gasp, desperately trying to finish your question.

“Where what?” he taunted, pretending not to understand.

“Is he…” you wheezed, barely able to speak as the pain in your chest intensified.

“Look over there, pretty girl,” Doma said, pointing with his fan. You turned your head to see Shinazugawa locked in a fierce battle with Akaza. Your heart sank at the sight of him fighting alone against such a powerful opponent.

Your attention was quickly brought back to your own predicament as the ice vines continued to tighten their grip around your body. The coldness was seeping into your bones and you could feel your strength waning. You gritted your teeth and tried to break free, but it was no use.

"Once Akaza gets his final blow in," Doma leaned in, bringing you close enough to see the spectrum of colours in his eyes. "We will turn him into a demon. If he refuses, well..." His smile faded, “We’ll tear every single limb of his off.”

You reached your breaking point, your mind became clouded. “Thirteenth form, Nightmare.”

Suddenly, the world around you transformed into a dark and ominous realm. The air was thick with the scent of fear, and the sound of screams and cries echoed all around you. Doma was now trapped in a terrifying nightmare of his own making.

The vines that had been tightly wrapped around you suddenly loosened, and the statue that Doma had created melted away at an intense speed. You plummeted towards the ground, hitting the hard surface with a deafening thud. You let out a silent cry. The impact should have caused numerous broken bones, but you refused to succumb to the pain.

As you surveyed your surroundings, you noticed that the shadow of Doma was writhing in agony, his face contorted with terror. He clawed at the air and his own face in a desperate attempt to escape his own nightmare. You took advantage of the opportunity and prepared yourself for the final blow, concentrating all your power into your stance as you chanted, "First form, Meteor."

"AKAZA!" Doma screeched, just as you were about to land the final blow on his neck, slicing through the skin. You could sense Akaza's presence from your peripheral vision as he swiftly moved towards Doma and took him into his arms. The force of your sword met nothing but air, and the ground where Doma should have been standing erupted into a deep crater from the sheer power of your attack.

You let out a string of curses, the words echoing through the empty air. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down, but the pain you were in made it even difficult as bones were constricting your lungs. However, you refused to let it stop you from finding Shinazugawa.

You spotted Shinazugawa just a few meters away, his gaze fixed on you. He stood there, motionless, much like he did back at the hot springs. As you turned your attention towards him, you noticed Rengoku approaching you from behind.

You let out a raspy breath before collapsing to the ground, causing Rengoku to rush towards you, leaving Shinazugawa behind. As you struggled to catch your breath, Shinazugawa’s voice cut through the air.

"You lost him," he stated flatly.

Confused you replied, "What?"

Shinazugawa’s eyes widened as he continued, "You're so fucking useless. Why are you even here?"

Rengoku interrupted, his anger palpable as he yelled, "Shinazugawa! Can you not do this right now?"

Shinazugawa ignored him, spitting out his words with contempt, "You are so fucking useless, you should have died."

You stared at him, taken aback by his harsh words.

Your breathing became shallow, and your heart felt like it had dropped to your stomach. The weight of Shinazugawa’s words felt heavy, crushing down on any sense of self-worth you had left. You tried to hold back tears, but you could feel them welling up in your eyes. The pain was almost unbearable, and all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear.

“Why?" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Quit the fucking corps," he said, his tone cold.

“Shinazugawa,” Rengoku removed his haori and quickly wrapped it around your bleeding torso. “She did more than you could have,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of anger and frustration directed at Shinazugawa. He held you close, trying to ease your pain as you groaned in agony. The wounds were deep and you could feel the blood trickling down your skin. Despite Rengoku’s efforts, the pain was still overwhelming, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

You saw black.

“Is she in a stable condition?” Ubuyashiki inquired with a deep concern etched in his voice.

“Yes, Oyakata-sama. The Kakushi just arrived in time to prevent further blood loss,” Rengoku replied.

“I’m glad. She fought valiantly, didn't she?” he remarked, with a tone that suggested it was not a question. Ubuyashiki was well aware of your formidable strength, which could rival even Himejima, if not, surpass him. However, even such strength had its limits, and you were not invincible.

Shinazugawa sat in silence during the meeting, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor without even a single blink. Ubyashiki addressed him, "Shinazugawa?"

Shinazugawa jolted out of his trance, "Oyakata-sama."

Ubyashiki asked, "What did you tell her?”

Shinazugawa hesitated, swallowing hard and opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Eventually, he managed to say, "I told her she was useless."

Rengoku interjected, "Please continue, Shinazugawa-san."

Shinazugawa glared at Rengoku and continued, "And that she should have died."

Ubuyashiki turned to Rengoku and said, "You may leave now, Rengoku."

Rengoku looked at both Ubuyashiki and Shinazugawa, and replied, "As you wish, Oyakata-sama."

Once Rengoku was out of earshot, Ubuyashiki confronted Shinazugawa, "Why do you express your concern through hostility, Shinazugawa?"

"I don't understand, Oyakata-sama," he responded.

"You care for her, do you not?" Ubuyashiki questioned. "She's finally opening up to the other Hashiras, enjoying their company, and communicating more. Yet you try to push her back into the hole she has been desperately trying to climb out of. Do you not see the emptiness in her eyes? She looks so hollow, and you only seem to make her feel more disconnected from this world."

"She's not my responsibility. She made her own decision to get involved."

"You are a Hashira, Shinazugawa. You have a responsibility to your fellow demon slayers, especially one who risked her life to help you."

Shinazugawa’s jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for her help."

"But you needed it," Ubuyashiki countered. "And now she needs yours."

Shinazugawa opened his mouth to argue, but Ubuyashiki interrupted him. "I understand that you are not used to showing kindness, but that does not excuse cruelty. She deserves respect, and so do you. Please think about that, Sanemi."

The use of his first name caught him off guard, and he stared directly into Ubuyashiki's eyes, unsure of what to say.

“You may go, Shinazugawa,” Ubuyashiki said with a hint of sadness in his smile.

Time passed in a blur as days and nights blended together, but fragments of memories kept you grounded in reality.

You struggled to open your eyes through the hardened mucus that clung to them.

You heard the clatter of a plate hitting the ground, causing you to turn your head in the direction of the noise. Your eyes fell upon Kocho, who was standing by the door.

“Two months,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes. Her vulnerability caught you off guard. “You were unconscious for two whole months, and I was losing hope that you’d ever wake up.” She slowly made her way towards you, kneeling beside the bed where you lay recovering.

“Every damn day there was an ohagi on your table that I had to clean up,” she said with a hint of annoyance. You gave her a quizzical look, wondering what ohagi had to do with anything.

“I'm sorry,” you said, even though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

You remembered then, “Shinazugawa-san and Rengoku-san?” Kocho handed you a glass of water, which you eagerly gulped down, relieving your dry throat. As you drank, Kocho continued to speak.

"Shinazugawa-san deserves a beating," she said with a hint of anger in her voice. "I offered to create new scars for him, but Himejima-san told me not to." Despite her words, she gave you a sweet smile, a contradiction to her previous statement.

“I was scared,” she admitted. "You were in such a bad condition," she added.

“I'm fine now, Kocho-san,” you replied with a reassuring smile.

“You certainly are. We made sure to take care of you every single day," she said, before adding, “Oykata-sama would visit every day too. We often caught him doing so.”

“He didn't have to,” you said, shocked by the revelation. Kocho smiled softly. “He cares for you deeply, just as he does for all of us. After all, he sees us as his family-”

“You're awake!” Kanroji bursted into the room. “How are you feeling?” She was bouncing with energy. “Meals without you just weren't the same.”

“Kanroji-san, thank you for the ohagi,” you bowed your head. “What ohagi?” She asked with a smile.

You stared at her, “The one on my table every night, according to Kocho-san?”

“I never brought any ohagi. But if I had seen it, I definitely would have eaten it all!” She retorted with a playful grin.

As you stared out of the window, the gentle breeze rustled the curtains, and you breathed in the fresh air. Suddenly, your stomach grumbled and you found yourself craving some ohagi. "I could really go for some ohagi right about now," you murmured to yourself.

As night settled in, you took your first few steps after being stationary for two solid months. You had lost a considerable amount of muscle and weight during your recovery, but Kocho assured you that your training would come back to you in a few days.

You padded softly towards the window, staring into the gardens of the Butterfly estate. The night sky always had a calming effect on you, especially when the moon is full. The beauty of the moonlight shining onto your face made you close your eyes and bask in its presence.

You felt a subtle shift in the air as the door silently opened, a clear sign of someone skilled in stealth. Without hesitation, you turned your head towards the door.

White hair and a scarred body. In his hand, he held a box wrapped in furoshiki cloth. As he walked in, his gaze immediately went to the bed where you had been comatose.

Not finding you there, a flash of panic was evident in his eyes as he began to scan the room. Finally, he noticed you standing there, looking at him with a stunned expression.

“Shinazugawa-san?” You said softly.

He dropped the box in surprise and walked slowly towards you. His scarred face was twisted in a mixture of surprise and guilt. He reached his hand out, but you flinched, taking a step back.

That immediately stopped him in his tracks. He let out a bitter laugh and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so fucken stupid,” he muttered, his voice laced with self-disgust.

“Yeah,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't bear to look at him, so you turned your back towards him, staring blankly out the window.

"Please look at me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. You couldn't bring yourself to do it, your gaze still fixed on the window. He said your name, your first name, in the most tender voice you had ever heard.

“Please.”

The moonlight cast a soft glow around you as you turned to face him, illuminating your figure. Tears continued to flow uncontrollably down your face as you gazed at him, and the sight of him only seemed to intensify your emotions.

His body was taut, restraining himself from taking a step towards you and enveloping you in his arms. He respected the invisible boundary you had created. His eyes softened when he looked into yours, a stark contrast to his usual gaze that made your stomach churn. His moods were so volatile, but in this moment, it seemed as if he was trying to convey something deeper, something vulnerable.

He was clenching and unclenching his hand, his eyes pleading with you as he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." The raw emotion in his voice made your heart ache.

“I should have never said any of that, I’m so sorry.”

"I just-“ he paused, his voice cracking. He rubbed his face vigorously before continuing, "I don't know. I don't even know you," he let out a sad, bitter laugh. "What the fuck am I doing?"

“You're not useless," he said softly, his voice filled with remorse. He repeated the phrase again, as if trying to erase the hurt caused by his previous words. "You shouldn't die either, fuck, why did I ever say that," he muttered, his eyes full of remorse.

You stared at him, not knowing how to respond. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I don’t want you to die. I said those things," a tear fell down his cheek. "I said it because I didn't want you near any of this shit."

“You’re so fucking strong, I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I still worried. You almost fucking died, holy shit.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You hit that ground, fractured a shit ton of bones, and yet you still moved. I was so fucking scared, I just wanted you to stop but you didn’t. You kept on going and I couldn’t bear to watch it go down.”

You took a soft step toward him. “You almost had him,” he continued, tears streaming down his face. “But when that other demon left me, I thought he was going to finish you off. You had no idea how fucking scared I was.”

"Two months, I came here every single day," he choked out, "and you never stirred. I was terrified," he whispered your name.

"I didn't want to lose-" he was cut off by the gentle touch of your hand on his scarred face. He snapped his head towards you, eyes widening in shock.

“But you did,” you said gently, your voice breaking as tears continued to flow down your face. “The moment you said those words to me.” Your words hung heavy in the air as you both cried, the pain palpable.

Your hands were trembling as you wiped away his tears. Shinazugawa took hold of your hands and brought them to his lips "I won't ever say that shit again," he promised. He pressed a soft kiss onto your hands. "If I ever say anything like that again, these beautiful hands of yours can land the final blow on me."

“Shinazugawa-san,” you said. Shinazugawa gently released your hands and brought his own to your face, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. His hands were so large, almost enveloping your entire face, and they were warm and comforting. You couldn't help but nuzzle into them, savouring the feeling of safety and reassurance that came with his touch. It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of comfort.

"Sanemi," he said, and you looked up at him, questioning.

"Please, call me Sanemi," he added with a gentle smile.

"Sanemi," you said softly.

He averted his gaze, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink under the moonlight.

As you gazed at him, the world suddenly tilted and you felt yourself losing balance. Your legs gave out and you began to fall, but Sanemi's quick reflexes allowed him to catch you before you hit the ground.

"Careful," he said, holding you tighter as you were bundled in his arms. His strong arms enveloped you, making your heart race. You couldn't help but blush at the sudden situation, grateful that your hair was hiding most of your face.

Sanemi remained in the position that he caught you in, not moving a muscle. As you rested in his embrace, you found yourself entranced by his familiar scent once again, feeling yourself becoming drowsy.

"Sanemi..." you murmured, your eyes drooping.

Sanemi stiffened at the sound of his name, realizing that you were about to pass out. He looked at you in panic as your eyes shut. "Hey, stay with me," he called out, but you didn't budge. With a swift motion, he lifted you up and carried you to the bed, surprised at how light you were in his arms.

Sanemi skidded to a stop, almost colliding with Kocho. "What are you doing here, Shinazugawa-san?" she asked him with a flat expression.

"She passed out. I don't know what happened. She was standing, then she fell and passed out in my arms. Kocho, please help." He pleaded desperately.

Her expression turned concerned upon hearing that, and she quickly made her way to your room. Upon entering, she found you peacefully sleeping on the bed, tucked into the covers. As she checked your vitals, she noticed the box that Sanemi had dropped when he first entered the room. Looking up at him with realization, she said, "You were the one bringing the ohagi."

Sanemi's frustration boiled over, "She passed out and you're concerned about that damn snack?!"

"She's fine," Kocho said reassuringly. "She's just extremely iron deficient. Since we've been administering vital minerals through injections, her iron intake has been insufficient, among other things," she explained.

“No wonder she’s so fucken light,” Sanemi pieced together.

Kocho nodded, then turned her attention back to Sanemi. "What are you really doing here?" she asked again, her tone serious.

“None of ya business," he said, still keeping his gaze fixed on you.

"You said some really terrible things to her, Shinazugawa-san," Kocho reprimanded. "If I hear even the slightest whisper that you've caused her any harm,” she gave him a sweet smile. “I will gut you.”

Sanemi smirked at that, “I’d like to see you try.”

Kocho gave you one last look before sending Sanemi a vulgar gesture and leaving the room.

As you turned on your side, you felt a slight dip in the bed. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with the sight of a sleeping Sanemi. He sat on a stool with his arms resting on the bed, which served as makeshift pillows. He was softly snoring, and it was clear that he must have been watching over you until he fell asleep.

A gentle breeze wafted into the room, causing his hair to fall over his peaceful face. Without hesitation, you reached out and brushed his hair aside. The light touch made him choke on a snore and slowly open his eyes.

He gave you a sluggish smile, then gently took hold of your hand and pressed his lips against it, just as he had done the night before. Your body froze as a rush of warmth washed over you, making you feel a little flushed.

“Mornin’,” he said groggily, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Good morning,” you replied quietly, your stomach fluttering at the sound of his voice.

He ran his hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up. "Let me get you some food," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

You were about to protest and get out of bed yourself until he said, "Sit your pretty ass down."

You sat down.

Two weeks later

You approached the well-trodden path that led to a destination you had visited a few months earlier. As you neared the entrance, you politely knocked on the sturdy gate, which was soon opened by a female servant, who peered out cautiously.

As she recognized you, her eyes lit up with familiarity, and she quickly bowed low in greeting, gesturing for you to come inside the manor.

She led you through the house and towards the kitchen, the clanging of stones and ceramics hitting each other growing louder with every step.

"Shinazugawa-sama has a keen interest in domestic activities," the servant informed you. You couldn't help but suppress a smile at that. As you reached the entrance of the kitchen, she said, "I'll leave you here," and smiled.

You walked into the kitchen and were immediately hit with the aroma of various dishes. As you looked around, you saw Sanemi's godly figure standing at the counter. He wore black a hakama, a shirt nowhere in sight.

He was entirely focused on his task, his eyes fixed on the fishes in front of him as he sliced them with precision. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his muscles flexed as he worked and the sweat that glistened on his skin.

The servant's words from earlier made sense now - Sanemi had clearly been invested in domestic activities lately, and he seemed to have a talent for it.

You crept towards him until you were close enough to wrap your arms around his waist. Sanemi's body tensed for a moment as he jolted in surprise, causing him to almost drop the knife he was holding mid-air.

He quickly recovered, turning around to face you with a look of mild annoyance mixed with amusement. "Don't sneak up on me like that," he grumbled, though the corners of his lips turned up slightly.

As you chuckled, your breath tickled Sanemi's skin. "Couldn’t resist," you murmured, moving closer to him. Your lips brushed against his skin as you traced the scars on his back with feather-light kisses.

Sanemi's body tensed and he let out a choked sound. However, he didn't push you away. Instead, he slowly turned around to face you, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of desire.

You smirked at his reaction and began to detach yourself from him, intending to playfully tease him. However, before you could take a step away, Sanemi quickly grabbed your wrist.

You couldn't help but let out a surprised gasp as he pulled you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. His grip on your waist was firm but not rough, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You tilted your head, gazing at him through your lashes, "You fucken minx," he growled.

Your hands trailed up his thick arms, fingers gliding over the defined muscles before wrapping around the back of his neck. You played with his white hair, tugging at the strands lightly as you gazed deeply into his eyes. He couldn't help but flicker his gaze between your eyes and lips.

"I'm a minx now, Sanemi?" you playfully teased, emphasizing his name.

"Fuckin' don't start this," he ordered.

Your eyes flickered to his lips before returning to his gaze. "I really want to kiss you, ‘Nemi," you admitted, your voice low and sultry.

Sanemi's grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned down until his lips were dangerously close to yours. "Do it," he said, roughly.

Your heart raced with excitement as you finally gave in to your desire and pressed your lips to his. His taste was a sweet addiction that you couldn't get enough of. "Finally," he cursed, his lips parting to deepen the kiss.

As your bodies melted together, Sanemi lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his narrow waist. A soft moan escaped your lips as his tongue traced your lips, seeking entrance, and you eagerly granted it.

He set you on the counter and your hands trailed up to tug on his white hair, eliciting a low growl from him. He bit your lip in warning, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper of pleasure. The intensity of the kiss was overwhelming, and you were completely lost in the moment, consumed by your desire for him.

"’Nemi," you whimpered, feeling his lips trailing a path down your neck. You couldn't help but pull on his hair, urging him to continue as he left a trail of kisses and nips on your skin. Your heart was racing with desire as he found a sensitive spot on your neck and began to suck on it. The sensation was so overwhelming that you had to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape.

"Lemme fucken hear," he rumbled, pulling your hand away from your mouth.

"I wanna hear everythin’ that escapes your pretty mouth, every moan, every gasp," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wanna know that I'm makin’ you feel good." The intensity in his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he nibbled on your earlobe.

"’Nemi, the food-" you began.

"Fuck the food," he said.

Notes: This is my first post on Tumblr, as well as my first foray into writing. I'm not sure how it will turn out in the long run, but if you happen to be reading this, thank you for taking the time. I hope you have a lovely day!

[generic-sonic-fan]

Diametric

Summary:

Diameter (Noun): A line dividing through the center of a body Diametric (Adjective): situated of, relating to, or along a diameter. Opposed.

To Shadow, he asked that his current friend protect his past family.

To Omega, it’s a task to protect the two humans who ruined Shadow’s life.

---

The Black Moon hung heavy in the featureless sky. Red light bathed everything below. 

Shadow tore through the chaos of objects in white space. Maria and Grandfa- the professor, they were alright, but that could change at any moment and the energy inside of him pulsed faster with every breath and time was running out. He had difficulty keeping his eyes downturned from the Black Moon. He found his gaze drifting if he lost focus for even a moment. 

He skidded to a halt in front of the entrance to the Ark memory. Six Black Arms soldiers sprung from the platforms within- and were promptly obliterated by a volley of missiles behind them. 

Omega stepped through their bloody remains. “A PASSAGE HAS FORMED TO THE BLACK MOON! DESTROY IT!”

“I need your help, it’s urgent!” Shadow shouted back. 

“WHAT DO YOU REQUIRE?”

“Protect them. Protect Professor Gerald and Maria at all costs.” 

“I DO NOT PROTECT.” Omega switched to his fists and clenched one in front of his optics. For a moment, a vision jolted through Shadow’s mind of destroying him with a fiery rain of chaos spears. But Omega lowered his fist and redrew his machine guns.

“HOWEVER. . . I CAN PROTECT THEM BY DESTROYING ALL WHO THREATEN THEM.” 

“Thank you.”

“LOCATING TARGETS OF PROTECTION. . . FOUND. GO, SHADOW! HURRY TO YOUR FINAL CONFRONTATION!” Omega jetted off with his boosters

—

Omega arrived in the zone of white space that held the ruins of the metropolitan area. His scans from a distance could not indicate what time this location portrayed, nor any hints about the location itself, and his scans up close now did little to elucidate the matter further. 

But against the ruined backdrop, the biosigns of Gerald and Maria Robotnik lit up in his scanners. They were both crammed beneath a small alcove close to the entrance of the ruins zone. The concrete surrounding them would do a pitiful job at fending off any attacks or deflecting any debris. Omega stomped towards their location. 

“GERALD AND MARIA,” the next word was slimy against his voicebox, but he grabbed it and shoved it through anyway, “ROBOTNIK. I AM E-123 OMEGA. SHADOW HAS TASKED ME WITH PROTECTING YOU.”

The little girl crawled out of the hiding spot first. She stood up straight, brushed the non-existent dirt off her skirt, before standing square with him, meeting his optics.

She was. . . unremarkable. Thin blonde hair. Blue eyes. An almost inhumanly frail muscle and skeletal structure- some of her bones were thin enough that even the force from falling on them wrong might break them. 

This was the human girl that Shadow once wanted to destroy the world for.

This was the human girl that caused Shadow to flinch at stray gunfire and to hyperventilate at flashing alarms.

This was the human girl that left Shadow weeping on the floor in the middle of the night after screaming out her name.

This was-

“Are you Shadow’s friend?” 

Omega stared at her. “YES.” 

“Good. That makes me happy.” Maria smiled, revealing brittle teeth. “Grandfather, it’s okay! Come on out!”

The first thing Omega registered was the mustache. His targeting nearly snapped onto its visage. But he held off, allowing the old man to crawl out of the alcove and stand trembling beside Maria. 

“My, you’re an impressive thing.” Gerald said. “I wonder who built you?” 

“IT IS ONLY MY PROMISE TO SHADOW THAT KEEPS ME FROM ERADICATING YOU, ROBOTNIK.”

Before he could stomp closer to the old man, Maria jumped in between. “Stop!”

“Maria!” 

Gerald grabbed her and pulled her aside. He then stepped up and puffed his chest out, as if he wasn’t about to cower before the girl had intervened. 

“AS PREVIOUSLY STATED- I AM TO PREVENT YOU FROM BEFALLING HARM. THIS LOCATION IS UNSHELTERED. FOLLOW ME.” Omega gestured over his shoulder.

He hadn’t had time to scan this new area- he hadn’t explored the confines of this white space while he was trying to triangulate Rouge’s signal, and after confirming her status, events had moved far too quickly. Now he was left guessing at wall thicknesses and scouting as he went, with two vulnerable meatbags far too close on his heels. 

He rounded the corner to find a herd of gunner robots. He destroyed them, but instead of breaking into parts they only shriveled up and disappeared. Their smoke lingered. They’d likely reappear in time, just like all the other robots in this inane dimension. As he walked through the smoke, it reacted to his air resistance, but did not cling to his frame.

It didn’t cling to Maria’s shoes either as she marched behind him. Yet she wheezed. She coughed. She froze. Omega turned around. Her eyelashes fluttered. Her pulse dropped- and so did she. 

Omega felt her between his fingers before he even registered that he’d moved to catch her. He dragged her out of the smoke and held her upright until she could plant her own feet beneath herself again.

She placed her palm on his wrist. “Thank you.” 

“Let go of her!” Gerald pouted. 

Omega looked at him, then to Maria, then back at him. He then plucked Maria off the ground so that she was sitting in his claws.

“Put her down!” 

“NO.” 

“Grandfather, it’s alright- he’s steady.” Maria replied. “In fact, it might be faster if he carries you as well.”

Omega turned and walked towards the outer wall of white space, leaving the old man jogging after them. 

“Please don’t leave him.” Maria said.

“I AM TRACKING HIM BEHIND ME.” 

“I’m sorry about what Grandfather said. It was rather rude to call you a thing.” 

“IRRELEVANT.” 

“No, it really was. You deserve an apology. You’re not a thing. You’re clearly so much more than that.” Maria put her hands on his chest plating. 

. . . he could not determine how to respond, so he didn’t. 

He arrived at the outer wall. This material, according to his scans, was far too thick for even his arsenal to blast through. He set Maria down next to it, then stepped in front of her, shielding her from the other three directions where possible threats could emerge. 

When the old man finally caught up with them, Omega was tempted not to let him in, but Shadow’s promise called itself to the forefronts of his memory banks, and he waved the old man behind him. 

“WE ARE SHELTERING AT THIS LOCATION. STAY BEHIND ME. I WILL INSTRUCT YOU WHEN IT IS SAFE TO EMERGE.” 

“You know,” Gerald said in that nasally tone of his, “you’re not exactly perfect cover.”

There was a hand placed atop his head. Like a master patting his creation. 

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” Omega snapped around and shoved the barrel of his machine gun at Gerald’s throat. 

“Stop! Stop, he didn’t mean it!” Maria cried.

“IF YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN, I WILL KILL YOU.”

“Even at risk of permanent damage to the timeline?” Gerald muttered into the barrel of the weapon.

“YOU OVERESTIMATE MY CAPACITY TO CARE.” 

“Let him go!”

Maria shoved Omega’s waist. It was not enough force to move him. She kicked his leg and punched his chest plating, each with barely enough force to even register on his tactile sensors. 

But then she shoved Gerald out of the way. The old man was not prepared, stumbling off to the side, and at the tip of Omega’s gun barrel his throat was replaced with Maria’s forehead. 

Her blue eyes burned into Omega’s optics. 

He lowered his weapon.

“You’re cruel!” Her lips dripped with a venom Omega didn’t even know her vocal chords could produce. “Shadow can’t possibly be your friend!”

“THEN YOU DO NOT KNOW SHADOW AT ALL.” 

Her eyes widened. Omega turned his back to her. He scanned the surroundings for hostiles. Unfortunately, there were none.  

“Tell me about Shadow, then.” Maria said, quieter.

“Don’t.” Gerald snapped. “I’m sure your treatment of us is already damaging the-”

“SILENCE, IMBECILE!” 

The old man sputtered a bit before complying.

Omega generated a few iterations of his next words before settling on one. “SHADOW IS CAPABLE OF SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU WANT HIM TO BE.”  

“By that, do you mean. . . hurting people?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.” 

“People like that devil in the moon up there?” 

“AFFIRMATIVE.” 

She paused. “Good.”

“YOU ARE NOT REPULSED BY THIS IDEA OF HIM?” 

“I don’t like the idea of him fighting at all.” Maria was silent for a moment. “But I know he’s able to. To protect everyone. He’s been fighting for us this whole time.” 

“INDEED. I HAVE BEEN EXCLUDED FROM THE REGIONS FULL OF ENEMIES HE HAS BEEN ABLE TO INTERACT WITH.”

“Otherwise you would have helped?”

“UNDOUBTEDLY!” Omega’s claws twitched. “IT IS FAR TOO BORING HERE.” 

“So you fight together. And it’s fun?” 

“EXTREMELY SO!”

She made a thoughtful noise. “He used to be so nervous using his powers.”

“I ENCOURAGE HIM TO EMBRACE HIS STATUS AS THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.” 

“He’s even using the powers from his alien side. . . he’s being so casual about it.” She paused. “He is different. You’re right.” 

“You don’t need to apologize to him, dear.” Gerald said. 

“QUIET.” Omega reminded him.

“Tell me about his other friends.” Maria asked.

“ROUGE THE BAT,” Omega pointed to her last-known location on the plateau above them, “IS A COMPETENT JEWEL THIEF AND A VALUABLE ALLY.” 

“She steals things?” 

“SHE IS VERY GOOD AT STEALING THINGS.” 

“Hmm. Is it like how it is in the movies? Heists, that is.” 

“IT IS MUCH MORE ENTERTAINING.” 

“That does sound fun.” 

Gerald grunted something. It didn’t matter what. 

“What did Shadow think of Earth?” Maria asked. “When he first saw it?” 

“Maria, stop asking these sorts of questions. You’ll learn the answers in due time, when you join Shadow back on Earth.” 

Omega rotated his head back to stare Gerald down. The man flinched backwards. Maria stood her ground. 

“HE APPRECIATES THE ‘BEAUTY’ OF EARTH. HE OFTEN GOES ON LONG LEAVES OF ABSENCE TO EXPLORE IT.” Omega turned his gaze back to the empty space ahead. 

“Good. I’m glad. He’s probably able to explore so much with how fast he can run.” Maria said.

“INDEED.” 

Before Omega could speak again, the Black Moon rumbled. One of the eyes protruding from the writhing mass stared down upon them. The portal that Shadow had entered on the top rippled, and a horde of Black Arms soldiers belched forth. 

It would be so easy to run forward and tear them to pieces, but instead Omega had to wait an agonizing length of time for them to run within range. He drew both of his machine guns and let loose into the horde. Soon they were nothing but splotches of green blood on the ground. Their essence evaporated and drifted back towards the Black Moon.

“. . . is it over?” Maria asked from behind.

“BEFORE IT COULD EVEN BEGIN.” Omega huffed. “I BET SHADOW IS HAVING MUCH MORE FUN.” 

A soft giggle filled the air. Suddenly Omega understood the meatbag metaphorical comparison of laughter to wind chimes. 

The Black Moon pulsed again, and let out a guttural noise. No enemies emerged. All previously collected data on Shadow the Hedgehog suggested that Shadow was making quick work of Black Doom. Something deeper told Omega that time was almost up. 

“IS THERE ANYTHING,” the idea crossed his processor that Shadow would be displeased with such a question, but that was not enough to dissuade him, “YOU WOULD LIKE TO SAY TO SHADOW?” 

“He’ll be able to say goodbye, won’t he?” 

“A MESSAGE FOR THE FUTURE.” 

“Ah. . . I understand.” She said quietly. “Let me think.” 

She hummed under her breath.

Gerald cleared his throat. “Tell Shadow that I’m proud of him, whenever he needs to hear it.”

“I WILL NOT. I DID NOT ASK YOU.”

“Um. . .” Maria walked out from behind Omega and grabbed one of his claws. “Tell Shadow that whenever he’s feeling lonely, he should seek you or Rouge out, okay?”

“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS THE ONLY MESSAGE YOU WISH TO LEAVE HIM?”

“I don’t see why not. He gets lonely easily. I don’t want him to be. Now that he has you two as friends, he doesn’t have to be.” 

“MESSAGE RECORDED. I WILL PRESENT IT TO HIM,” Omega paused, “WHENEVER NECESSARY.” 

He deleted the recording.

“Thank you.” Maria let go. She glanced over her shoulder, then back to him. “And you take care of him, okay?” 

“I DO NOT ‘CARE’ FOR ANYONE.” 

“What?”

“BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW SHADOW TO COME TO HARM.”

Maria smiled again. “Good.”  

“HE IS THE ONLY ORGANIC WHO CAN POSSIBLY KEEP UP WITH ME. HE IS MY MOST VALUABLE ALLY.”

“And your friend.”

“AND MY FRIEND.” 

Omega’s scanners picked up growing energy within the Black Moon. He quickly picked up Maria and placed her behind his frame, just before a series of shockwaves hit. The old man got the worst of it, getting knocked off his feet, but with Omega’s frame curled around her, the forces against Maria’s body were minimized. 

A final, massive explosion sent purple-red smoke rolling past them. Then all was quiet. Omega turned around to find that the Black Moon was no more- he didn’t even get to see the blasted thing explode into little pieces. Sad. 

A small figure landed in the distance. Scans confirmed it to be Shadow.

“SHADOW HAS EMERGED VICTORIOUS.” Omega informed the other two. “I WILL RETURN YOU TO YOUR ORIGINAL LOCATION.” 

“Thank you for protecting us.” Maria said. 

“. . . YOU’RE WELCOME.” Omega replied. He then tapped his shoulder. “WOULD YOU LIKE FASTER TRANSPORTATION BACK?” 

She turned to Gerald. “Can I, Grandfather? Can I please?”

“Absolutely not.” Gerald spat. “Come on, let’s get back to Shadow.” 

The old man held out his hand, and she took it. Omega turned away from them.

“It’s probably for the best we don’t leave Grandfather behind. There could still be monsters about.” Maria tried to explain.

“IRRELEVANT. FOLLOW.” 

He walked them back to the ruins of the urban area. He saw Rouge take off towards some other area of the white space. Shadow went the opposite direction, closing on the ruins area and fast. 

“SHADOW IS RETURNING. I WILL ALLOW YOU TO SAY YOUR FINAL GOODBYES.” 

“Right.” Maria said quietly. 

“Nonsense, my dear. The robot clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Gerald put his hands on her shoulders. 

Analysis of his voice suggested he didn’t quite believe what he was saying either. Omega stomped off to the edge of the ruins.

Before he activated his boosters, he heard a faint “goodbye Omega!” from behind him.

He saved it to his memory banks before blasting away. 

—

The aftermath. . . Shadow didn’t remember much. The rest of Sonic’s party was a blur. He stood on the edge of it until people started to trickle out. Rouge grabbed his shoulder, told him it was time to go, and they were off. 

Halfway through their route they were intercepted. Shadow skidded to a halt and Rouge landed to find Omega with his thrusters overheating. 

After they gave him a moment to cool down, the first thing he asked Shadow was “WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?” 

“I’m okay.” Shadow replied. 

Then they went home. A few weeks slipped away. It was difficult to break out of the fog. Omega suggested a mission. Shadow took him up on the offer. 

In the now-empty hallways of this base of Eggman’s, Shadow paused. 

“Did you talk with her at all?” He asked.

“MARIA, DURING THE TIME EATER EVENT?” 

“Yes.” 

“AFFIRMATIVE.” 

Shadow waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, he asked, “what did you think of her?”

Omega paused. Switched back to his weapon and shot the remnants of a destroyed Badnik on the floor. Switched back to his claws. 

“SHE WAS NOT AS PITIFUL AS I EXPECTED.” 

“You thought she was pitiful?” Shadow hissed.

Omega didn’t answer; he turned and walked away. Then he paused mid-step, as if there was something else he wanted to say, before he ignited his boosters and took off down the hall.

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 5.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: again, a little bit of a slow chapter. shera deserved some happiness and i'm giving it to her, dammit. also i lied, i dropped the chapter on monday oopsies.

wordcount: 4.5k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

Shera’s handwriting, in all accounts, was terrible. It was crude and wispy, all blending together like a child’s scrawl. As she sat at her desk, the ink dripping onto the paper from the length of her pauses, she wondered how to sign it. 

Yours,

Shera

No, that was much too personal— she… she wasn’t his. 

Best,

Shera Stark

That felt formal and detached. It simply wouldn’t do.

She went through a myriad of different closing statements, wroughting her brain over like wringing out a rag. She even considered not doing it at all. 

No, no— she… she wanted to. She needed to try, atleast. Sulking and crying would only do so much for her. She needed to be proactive and offer an olive branch of sorts. She settled on a simple drawing of Moongeist— or mayhaps any wolf, but the point was there. He’d know. 

With the note pinned to her cut dress fabric, she snuck from her chambers, flagging down a pageboy. 

“Hello,” she murmured to the young lad, who couldn’t be any older than nine or ten. “May I ask a favor of you, ser?” 

“Yes ma’am… my lady,” he corrected softly, eyes wondering to Moongeist, who was sitting patiently at Shera’s feet. 

“May you take this fabric and note to Prince Aemond’s chambers and leave it upon his desk?” 

“The prince doesn’t like people going through his things while he’s not there, miss,” he responded, blue eyes wide. “I do not wish to be flogged.” 

Shera blinked slowly. Surely Aemond didn’t have servants flogged for an indiscretion. “Has… Prince Aemond had pageboys flogged before?” 

“No, miss— but I delivered him a letter while he was eating his lunch once… he had his eyepatch off on the table and I did not knock,” the young boy looked at his hands. “He said if I didn’t knock next time, he would make me clean up Vhagar’s dung with a wheelbarrow.” 

What the fuck, Aemond? Shera stifled a little laugh, trying not to embarrass the boy. “How about this,” she hummed. “Would you like to pet my wolf? He’s a real direwolf, all the way from the North.” 

The lad eyed Moongeist with a curious gaze. “My mumma had a shaggy dog with a curly tail when I was young. He licked my face n’ smelled horrible but he was my bestest friend,” he said, bashful. “He died a while ago— no one’s got any more pups for me to pet.” 

“He’d love a pet from you, ser,” Shera continued. “Will you deliver this to Prince Aemond’s chambers? If he gets cross with you, tell me and I’ll resolve it and sic my wolf upon him. No harm will befall you.” 

Shyly, the boy smiled, offering his hand to the wolf. Moongeist sniffed his hand and licked his palm, causing the boy to giggle. 

Shera showed him where Moongeist liked to be scratched the most, and the pageboy was quite pleased with himself when he had the giant wolf thumping his foot on the ground like a puppy at the most perfect of scratches. 

He took her note and favor and tottered off. 

— 

Shera knocked on Helaena’s door. “Hela?” she called softly. 

A handmaid opened the door and let her in, wide eyes upon Moongeist. 

The solar was lovely, decorated in blue and purple silks upon the ceiling. There were framed pinnings of various bugs upon the walls, some of them being very rare if she remembered correctly. 

Upon the floor were strewn children’s toys, like wooden dragons that Helaena had when she was little, along with soldier dolls and princess dolls. Some children’s books were left open, some neatly stacked near the settee. 

Shera’s eye landed on Helaena, who was bobbing a toddler on her knee on the couch. A white haired child approached her, his violet eyes wide. He was the spitting image of Aegon as a child. 

“Who’s you?” he asked, not afraid to stare— like all children do. 

“Shera!” Helaena exclaimed, humming as she hoisted the smaller child onto her hip. “Jaehaerys, this is your auntie Shera.” 

“Auntie… Shera…” the little boy echoed. “Is she married to uncle Aemond?” 

Helaena’s face blanched slightly. “No, dearest,” she hummed. “She is very close to me, like a sister. Like Jaehaera is your sister.” 

“Oh,” he murmured. “She doesn’t have white hair. And she has a dog.” 

“He’s a wolf, Jaehaerys,” Shera chimed in. “Has your mumma read to you about direwolves and Winter Kings yet?” 

“A woof,” the smallest child chimed in, bouncing happily upon Helaena’s hip. “A woof, a woof!” 

“Well, I should introduce the children. You have already met Jaehaerys,” Helaena ruffed up his white curls as he continued to stare at Shera unabashedly. “He has a twin sister, Jaehaera. Who is…” Helaena swirled around. “She is hiding behind the settee,” she whispered, leading Shera to look at the pair of violet eyes peeking over the furniture at her. “And this is my youngest, Maelor. He is two years old. The twins are five.” 

“They’re gorgeous Hela,” Shera mused. “Jaehaerys looks just like Aegon, I thought I had stepped into the past when I saw him. Maelor, however,” she added, smiling at the little cherubic face of the youngest prince, who was blushing and giggling, “looks just like his mumma.” 

“Come sit, lovey,” Helaena said as she put Maelor down on the floor near the toys. “Lunch should be here soon. You look darling in that shade. You look like a jeweled beetle,” she hummed, offering her hand to Shera, which she took. Hela’s palm was warm, like a toasty fire, but not sweltering. It felt akin to being swaddled with a blanket. “Can I show you some of my bugs?” 

“Of course,” Shera agreed, feeling genuinely at ease. The solar was lively and lived in, surely because of the children— it felt… homely and not sterile and lifeless like some others’ chambers. 

Off to the far wall, Helaena led her to a bookshelf, carved in draconic designs and various Old Valyrian sigils that she couldn’t quite parse. It was stocked from top to bottom with various books, mostly pertaining to the taxonomy and biology of insects and arachnids— but there were some familiar titles snuck in as well. 

‘The Winter Kings of Yore: An Account of the North’. 

“Hela— you still have this?” Shera asked, her hand thumbing over the positively ancient book, prising it from the shelf. She remembered this was one of her favorite books as a child and would request Helaena to read it when they bathed. 

“Of course! I still have this one, too. ‘Tis Maelor’s favorite.” she pointed to another book, nestled next to the other tome. It was much shorter, but its hard cover was more colorful with streams of blue and purple thread embroidered into a moon and an image of a wolf. 

‘Moonpuppy’. It was a children’s book, the only one Shera had brought with her to King’s Landing when she arrived at age five. 

“Oh Gods,” Shera breathed, her fingertips skimming over the embroidery. It wasn’t the original binding of the book— the book was well loved into bits, to where the inner pages only remained at one point. Shera and Helaena had worked tirelessly for a whole moon trying to prise it back together. The princess embroidered the cover, trying to make it as close to the original as possible. 

Opening the book, she remembered they even made a title page, inked in their silly children’s handwriting. 

‘Moonpuppy, edition II. By Helaena Targaryen and Shera Stark.’

Shera wanted to cry. She sniffed, carefully going through the pages. “Helaena, how have you managed to make me cry twice now?” 

“Tears of happiness, my little wolf spider,” Hela whispered. “You should read it to Maelor. You were always better at the voices than I.”

“Oh, Hela— I… I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, heat coming to her ears. “It… hurts to speak for long and I cannot project… what if he cannot hear me?” 

“Even at two, he is a very good listener. He is nothing like his father in that regard.” 

Shera wiped away her tears and went to sit down. “Maelor, is this your favorite book?” 

“Mwoonpubby!” the toddler exclaimed, jumping to attention right away. 

“Do you know all the words? It’s been quite a while since I’ve read— I may need help remembering.” 

“Mumma reads it every night— can I be the pubby and you be the mwoon?” 

The strength of Shera’s smile almost hurt her face. “Of course.” 

She began her reading, her fingertips buzzing with elation and a strange sense of anxiety.

Once, long ago, there was a puppy. 

He lived in the bitter cold and was very small, but that was okay. He had a large family to keep him warm. 

His mumma and papa talked to the moon each night, encouraging him to do the same. 

‘I don’t know what to say.’ said the little pup. 

‘Whatever is in your heart, dearest. The moon will listen. She will always listen.’ His mumma soothed him, fiddling over his fur with her big tongue. 

One day, it was very dark. Usually, at night, they had the light of the moon. But it was gone this night, smothered in fog and clouds. 

The little pup whined, trudging in the snow. He was lost! He was lost and he couldn’t find his way back to his mumma. 

‘Mumma! Mumma!’ he howled to the sky, to the hidden stars, to the darkened moon. ‘Moon? Moon?’ 

Shera cleared her throat, feeling the pinch of her nerves creeping up on her. She wanted to finish it— she had to.

There was no answer. He was alone. 

He cried and cried for hours, so alone and so cold without his family to warm him. He missed his mumma so badly, he missed the moon. 

‘I don’t talk to you much,’ the pup said, muzzle to the sky. ‘I don’t have much to say usually. I am sorry.’ 

He shuffled his paws as he huddled under a low hanging ledge, out of the snow. It was still wet and he was cold, but it was better than nothing. 

He felt cold still, cold in his bones— 

A light shined down upon him, finally. The moon had broken through the fog. 

Her voice was so hoarse now, that nary a sound came out. Moongeist nuzzled his snout under her hand in a gesture to tell her to take it easy. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t, her voice catching within the brambles of her inflamed vocal cords. 

“S’okay, auntie Shewa,” Maelor said, toddling up onto the couch and snuggling up to Shera without any reservation. “I can finish it, I know all the pawrts. Mumma gets tired too sometimes… so I finish the stowy.” 

He could see, he could see. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ he howled and barked and yipped. 

‘You should talk to me more, little pup,’ the moon cooed, bathing him in her silver light. ‘My sweet little moonpuppy.’ 

His pack found him quickly, all piling near him to keep him warm. He snuggled into their furs, looking up at the sky. 

The moon was full that night, full and bright. 

“Auntie Shewa?” 

“Hm?” 

“Can I pet your woof?” 

Shera looked to Helaena and gave a nod.

“You have to be gentle, like with the bugs.” Helaena stepped in, saving Shera from further talking— to which she was grateful for. 

“Uh huh…” Maelor mumbled, dragging his chubby little hand over Moongeist’s fur in a gentle manner so unlike a toddler. “Soft.” 

Moongeist licked the boy’s head, cowlicking his white curls into one. He giggled with delight.

–

They all lunched together, Helaena insisting that they sit on the floor and eat with the children. They sat in a circle, the kids having their porridge. They each had different toppings, which felt so much like them.

Jaehaerys had cut up ham atop his, accompanied by a smattering of frizzled onions. 

Jaehaera, on the other hand, had pieces of stewed pumpkin atop hers, glazed with cinnamon and maple syrup. It had some roasted pumpkin seeds atop for crunch. She had more of a sweet tooth than her brother, it seemed.

Maelor had a smaller bowl with plain porridge and melted butter– he glanced at Shera’s plate, to which her and Helaena were both eating parboiled quail eggs, dipping their toasted bread in the yolk. 

“Mumma– want egg,” Maelor muttered, swirling his spoon in his porridge. 

“What kind of egg, darling?” Helaena asked.

“I want what Auntie Shewa has,” he continued. “Dippy egg.”

“Maera,” Helaena called to her handmaiden. “Can you please have the cooks whip up some dippy eggs for Maelor– and mayhaps a bone for Moongeist, too?” 

The thumping of a tail was heard as the wolf heard ‘bone’ and ‘Moongeist’ in the same sentence. He stayed near Shera, but also in close proximity to Maelor, who had become quite attached to the wolf very quickly. The toddler offered porridge from his spoon to him, who happily slurped up the food with a wagging tail. 

Soon enough, Maelor was devouring his dippy eggs with toast. Helaena leaned forward now, tracing little circles on the plush rug they sat upon. “It was supposed to be different, you know.” 

Shera blinked. “What was?”

“I was supposed to be betrothed to Jacaerys– before… Aegon,” she started, eyes glazed over and looking towards somewhere far away, somewhere not completely there. “It might have been nice. I don’t know.”

“... really? You and Jacaerys?” she raised a brow. She couldn’t imagine Alicent ever agreeing to such a thing.

“Mother wasn’t pleased. Father pushed and pushed but mother was stronger and pushed back. It was a flash in the pan, so to speak. I wish I knew where we would be now if she had agreed.” 

“You would be upon Dragonstone, Hela– with… Jace’s children, presumably,” Shera cringed inwardly at the thought– that would be her some day.

Helaena wrinkled her nose at the thought, seemingly agreeing with Shera’s sentiment. “For all his faults–” she got up then, tugging Shera to her feet and leading her to the open window. “Aegon is… good with the children. When he is here. I don’t… he isn’t my husband in feeling– but he is my brother. What are we, any of us– but beholden to the mistakes of our families. All of us.”

Shera stayed silent as they sat on the windowsill together, letting Helaena talk. It seemed like something she didn’t talk about much– if ever. 

“He got the worst of mother’s rage. It broke something in him. But I think there is something broken in all of us, even mother,” Helaena reached to the trellis, plucking a beetle that was hiding between two folded leaves. “All of her children are cursed in some way,” she lifted her periwinkle gaze to Shera then. “You are one of her children, too.” 

“... cursed,” she echoed. Yes, that seems about right.

“Will you survive?” the princess turned the conversation then. “Upon Dragonstone?”

“I don’t know.” she answered truthfully, talking in honesty about the betrothal to someone for the first time. She tried before with Cregan, but he didn’t listen. 

“You’ll have to take the reins, you know,” Helaena prattled on, staring at the beetle with her full, rapt attention. It was blue in color, gleaming like a sapphire jewel in the sunlight. “Take them and steer them. You’ll be the only one able to change it– the trees bleed, Shera– cut lip, punctured wood...”

Shera’s brow furrowed further. Helaena was known to descend into her ramblings– but something within her tingled at the words. She didn’t know what they meant, but it made her stomach churn. She felt the whoosh of air from outside the window, a cream colored blur in the edge of her vision. She didn’t hear it, only felt it and saw it, fleeting. It landed upon a spiked point of the keep, across the way from the window– but she couldn’t parse what it was. Shera blinked profusely, bringing her hands to her eyes and rubbing them. When she looked again, it was gone, mayhaps never even there. 

“Hold the beetle, Shera,” Hela hummed, offering the jewel colored insect to her. “You remember how to hold them?”

“Gentle,” she responded, voice so quiet that it was hardly even a whisper. The beetle crawled eagerly onto her palm, roving around slowly. 

“I need to clean up the children for naptime. Maera,” the princess called, hopping off of the window sill. She walked to the handmaiden, who was a head taller than Helaena. Her dark brown hair was braided in one long wisp, a few errant strands sticking to her forehead. She had tanned skin and dark eyes, with a curved nose. The handmaiden smiled to Helaena and they whispered to one another, clearly very familiar, before they disappeared toward the nursery.

Her surroundings blurred as she kept her attention on the beetle. It seemed so simple, so… calm, despite being in the palm of a would-be predator. The light reflected off of its blue colored carapice, the elytra buzzing ever so slightly. It wanted to stretch, the slight unfold of its wings captivating Shera. She wondered what it was like to fly– she had always refused Jacaerys when he asked her to join him atop Vermax. But if… if she were the one flying, she may not be so scared. Her shoulders rolled in tandem with the beetle, feeling a crack of her bones and the ghostly sensation of her own wings clawing out from them. 

The beetle’s antenna wriggled, its little claws digging into her palm, pulling itself along. It wanted to go, it wanted to fly. Leaning towards the window, she saw the great expanse of the sky, littered now with clouds. There was a little breeze now, ruffling the gentle film of the wings as they extended– they looked and felt broken when coming from their sutures, but straightened out quickly. Crawling closer, closer to the breeze, flitting upon it. Hovering now, legs dangling ever expertly. Regarding the indoors one last time– pushing forward into the open air, flight, flight, wisping upon the breeze… was this freedom? 

“Shera! Open your eyes!” 

The breeze died upon her face as she turned to see Helaena at her side, a few maids behind her looking terrified– Moongeist was whining at her feet. 

“Shera?” Helaena whispered now, her periwinkle eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“... yes– um,” she glanced around nervously at the maids, who were now chittering amongst themselves. 

“Thank you, ladies– you may go now. I will call the maester myself if Shera falls ill again.” 

Ill? She was awake that entire time, she knew it– she was… focusing on the beetle… the beetle…

“Hela– where is the beetle?” 

“The beetle…” she breathed, looking over to the table. 

Shera looked to see an open lightbox, the beetle was in it. It was seized up, not moving. 

“It fell. Its thorax got torn on the windowsill– I will fix it before I pin it,” the princess sighed. “The breeze was too strong.”

“Is it dead?” 

“Yes.” 

Shera felt cold, a chill creeping at her back. “I should… I should get some rest, I think. M-much excitement for me today, I think.”

Helaena nodded.

–

Shera laid in bed, taking her dinner in her chambers. She felt… utterly exhausted. The day had been tumultuous, even without her… disassociating spell in Helaena’s chambers.

Her fingers roved over a book– it was something that was just left in her room for decoration and no real substance. Her eye strained as she tried to focus on the words. It was already hard enough to read with only one working eye, but with the content of this book being so boring, she couldn’t parse any of it at all. 

Knock, knock, knock. Three knocks rapt upon her door.

“I don’t need any tea,” she croaked out, unable to project her voice. She slipped out of her bed, adorned in her nightgown– it was fairly see-through, so she grabbed a blanket and slipped it over her head and body, snugging it close. She hated being caught without her veil on. “Please, come back in the morning.” she muttered as she opened the door, peeking her face out slightly.

“I’m afraid I cannot take no for an answer, Lady Stark,” Aemond hummed, standing before her in all his glory. He wasn’t dressed for bed– she wondered if he wore his riding and sparring leathers to bed, too. “I was tasked with delivering some… reading material to you.” 

Shera perked a brow inquisitively. “Reading material?” She hadn’t requested anything specific from the library.

“Can I come in?” 

Shera bit her lip. “Yes… I suppose…” she opened the door wider for him to come in as she scrambled to find a veil to wear. 

“No need for that. I won’t look if it makes you uncomfortable.” he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. He had two books in his hands as he looked around the room. 

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” Shera grunted, a bit indignantly. His words from the dinner still echoed in her head. Mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there. She remembered him laughing at her earlier in the day when her veil had slipped slightly. Her cheeks burned as she pulled the blanket taut around her, facing away from him. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” he said flatly, putting the books down on the side table next to the chaise. “But, out of respect, I won’t look.” 

She was sure he meant it as a way to soothe her worry, but she couldn’t help but feel tears start to form. Hastily, she wiped them away. “What was so important that this… delivery couldn’t wait until morn?” she glanced at him, her eyes stinging. “And why you?” she added, her punctuation of you a bit more harsh than she intended. 

Aemond’s brow knit as he regarded her. He said he wouldn’t look, the liar. 

She whipped in the opposite direction quickly. 

“Helaena asked me to deliver you this… and I had one to give you as well. Think of it as a betrothal gift.” he muttered, beginning to walk the room as if he wasn’t an intruder. Well, she had invited him in. 

Moongeist was snoozing on the bed, belly up. His legs twitched in the air as he whimpered softly from dreaming. Aemond stared at him. “This is your valiant protector? He is sleeping on the job.” 

“He deserves rest— you aren’t a threat to me, Aemond. He senses that,” she replied. Not a threat physically, at least. You’re a predator to my mind. 

“Hm,” he hummed, walking to the table where she still had two honey walnut cakes sitting out. “You enjoyed them, I take it?” 

“What?”

“The cakes. I had a maid bring them to you this morn.” 

“Oh– it was you,” she murmured, the tips of her ears flushing under the implication. “... thank you. It… helped.” 

“You were… distressed– these always used to cheer you up.”

Shera let out a tentative breath. He had thought of her– and remembered her favorite sweet? And… cared enough to have them brought to her. Maybe… maybe he didn’t loathe her so. “They were… very good,” she continued, letting a smile come to her face. It felt strange to smile around Aemond after so long.

“Yes, the cook who made them still works in the kitchens,” he picked up one, taking a bite. He had liked them as well, but his favorite had always been blueberry scones. “She surprisingly hasn’t kicked the bucket yet– still working away down there, at seventy-five. Mother offered her retirement and a nice hole in the wall shack near the wharf. She refused, adamant to work until she died.” he made a noise of surprise at the taste. “Still good.” 

“I’m surprised you remembered, Aemond,” she walked closer then, making sure to snatch the last one off of the plate before he decided to take it, too. She took a bite, the honey sticking to her fingers.

“I remember a lot, Shera,” he pulled out a chair and took a seat. Why was he staying?

 Her heart stopped momentarily as he said her name. She buried herself further into the pastry to hide her red cheeks. “Memories are a plague,” she grumbled, pulling up her legs to her chest after she settled into the chair next to him. 

“That they are, most of them are. A festering, decrepit reminder of… things best left forgotten. However,” he leaned forward then, his thumb cleaning off a drip of errant honey from the corner of her mouth. “I do remember, you were always a messy eater. Some things don’t change, do they?”

She shivered as he touched her with such… gentleness he hadn’t displayed at all since she’s been back. It was a glimpse into the boy he used to be– he was still there, deep down. She almost choked on the rest of her cake, putting it down on the plate as she quietly licked her fingers, trying to distract herself. “... no, some things don’t change.” 

“The book weren’t the only reason I came– Helaena asked me to ask you if you would like to come on a picnic to the Kingswood tomorrow. With Aegon, the children, Helaena and I. She told me that… Maelor required you bring Moongeist.” 

Shera stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide and owlish. The blanket slipped from her head slightly as she leaned forward, snatching the remainder of Aemond’s honey walnut cake from his fingers. “I suppose– as long as there are more cakes,” she hummed, feeling a slightly giddy sensation tingle down her spine as she devoured the rest. “How on earth did you manage to get Aegon to agree?” 

“I promised that there would be wine,” he watched, his violet eye roving her face unabashedly as she finished the pilfered sweet. 

“And?” 

“And… mayhaps I threatened to pay all the brothels off to not service him any longer if he did not attend.” 

–

Aemond left soon after, bidding her goodnight in a very stiff and still… somewhat cold in manner. But he was trying– she could see that. 

Before tucking back into bed, she looked to see the books he had left for her.

One was the copy of ‘Moonpuppy’ that she had read earlier that day.

The other, the supposed ‘gift’ from Aemond, was a well-worn, well-loved copy of the old folk hero ‘Symeon Star-Eyes’. Upon opening the cover and flitting through the pages, she saw many notes and footnotes on each page– it was Aemond’s handwriting. He had left his thoughts on each page– as she descended through the book, his handwriting changed and evolved. It started off very shaky and tenuous, but as she scanned through the end of the tome, it was confident and sophisticated. He had annotated this copy for years, his handwriting and views on the text changing with each year. Flipping back to the front, she looked at the date.

It was dated five moons after the Driftmark incident. Then, opening the back– it was dated a fortnight ago. He had written, noted, and journaled in this book for ten years.

Why did he give this to her?

[fluffywings13]

Binding Vow Loophole (2/2)

“I can’t–! I cahahahahan—Kuhuhunaaa!”

Their new Binding Vow didn’t pertain to any forceful usurping of Control between them, no magic word that tore Yuuji out of the metaphorical drivers seat without the ability to reclaim it, the details are quite simple but without any room for potential abuse of loopholes.

One; Sukuna had the right to yank him down into his Domain whenever he pleased, so long as Yuuji was in a safe location to be rendered Unconscious, whenever he was feeling particularly restless and/or a sense of irritation that needed to be cured without a more physical approach.

Two; Yuuji was only required to hand total control over their Vessel retaining the ability to coexist in that metaphorical drivers seat. (Sukuna taught him how to manage that feat–guy was a surprisingly decent Sensei when in a mellowed out state of mind)

Three; Sukuna was required to step in if something or someone Yuuji was not suited to handle on his own or with his partners to ensure he remained unharmed (healed if unavoidable harm did befall him) without complaint or an attempt to mutilate the other two bratty students. Control was to be given back upon assurance the threat was neutralized completely unless the child was not capable of handling control at the moment. In which a suitable location must be found with haste to allow control to be returned while the boy recovered within his domain.

Four; Yuuji could summon Sukuna into the physical plain just as Fushiguro could summon forth his Shikigami if the need arose, Sukuna was tied to remain within a specified distance to the boy at all times, and could only cause harm to whatever reason he was summoned forth. (Again, Sukuna taught him how to perform this particular technique because though akin to his friend’s ability it was starkly different in the finer details of the act)

“You most certainly can. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Take it, you brat, this is your consequence for summoning me for such frivolous reasons.” Sukuna rakes his nails, sharp as ever, up and down the bratty child’s abs. Taking in his howling shrieks of laughter as one would a much needed tonic or such. “Let’s go over them, shall we?” With the child hanging over his lap, bent at the back over his knees, legs anchored at his hips as he rests contentedly upon his Throne as usual. Sukuna made sure that the bend of the boy’s back would not cause discomfort, legs spread open only just to ensure the skirt of his kimono cushioned his position, his head resting upon the tops of his feet. “Summoning me to assist with your daily chores, I think not, they’re your chores to complete not mine.”

Yuuji screams and jolts at the sharp pinching spider crawling of fingers racing over the sides of his tummy, the sensitive belly surface spasming with the intensity of his peals of squeals, no regrets for summoning the Curse forth for stupid reasons. Arching his back as they come around to knead and scribble over his lower tummy, bursting with a loud shrill squeal, the most lighthearted sound to ever ring within this typically dismal place.

“I don’t mind you summoning me to assist with your studies. I know you struggle with sciences and history studies. That I won’t punish you for. I’m, dare I say, happy to be of assistance in that regard.” Sukuna tugs the hem of the brat’s lounge pants down enough, a discovery made upon the very first torturous endeavor, a rather ticklish waist. “However, the same can’t be said when you summoned me to assist in folding your laundry.” He watches in content as the boy screams and bucks, head lifting from the cushioning his feet provide him, as his claws scratch lightly over the sensitive waist. “It never ceases to humor me that you lose all hope with something as simple as me lightly scratching your waist.”

“Pl–Pleeaaasseehehehhehehshshahahahahah nohohohot theheheheere! Nonononononoahahahhahahhahahaha I caaaaaahan’t! Anywhere but theeheheheheheheere!”

Oh, how the sounds of his pleas always falling short of their desired outcome are music to his ears. “Perhaps I’ll stay right here for, I don’t know, ten minutes–longer–how would you like that, hmm?” Sukuna feels the boy’s legs jolt against his hips and grins. “If you kick me, no matter if it’s accidental or not, I’ll bring you to absolute tears kid.” The strain of those little feet just under his elbows, toes flexing in agony, is so harsh it’s felt. “Don’t you dare. You asked for this, daring to abuse our Vow for your own childish gain, something you should have considered was this being your atonement for using me to your whims.”

When that right foot, bare and warm, so very small compared to his own, makes contact with his hip Sukuna follows through on his threat. Yuuji wails at his misfortune and shrieks in surprise when he’s yanked up into the Curse’s lap entirely, nothing more about his position changes, legs tugged up to curl comfortably over the man’s shoulders the apologies he spews are met with deaf ears as far too knowledgeable fingers attack his inner thighs with a viciousness that has shrill screeches mixing with great loud shrill squeals and cackles.

Kicking and bouncing, Yuuji can’t find the mental capacity to form actual words for further pleading and apologizing for the unintentional assault, fingers wander down kneading and clawing vicious as ever to the spot that started the exploration of his thighs in the first place. Drumming his legs, careful not to kick the Curse King again, his head whips around as his hair messes completely as he pushes himself upwards with his feet against the backrest of the Throne they reside on.

“Oh, little one, you didn’t say you wanted me to get that particular spot.”

He didn’t! Yuuji did no such thing! Fingers far more gentle than they’ve ever been return to that insanity inducing spot just under the curve that would be considered a groping of his rear end. Collapsing in a fit of guffaws, fingers leave that life altering spot to race up his sides again, the teen writhes and twists as they race back down. Up again, shrieks and squeals, down once more, twist and turns like a cackling little worm. Up. Down. Up. Down. You get it.

Tears slowly begin to entice his eyes to burn, laughter becoming a tad hysterical, as one set of fingers continue to race up and down his side as he tries to curl sharply away from them and the other set claw up to his defenseless armpit.

Sukuna’s cruel. Obviously. Worming one finger under the clenched arm. Then two. Three. Four. All five. Yuuji feels those tears threatening to burst as he socumbs to the horrid tickle torture as penace for kicking the man who gave him fair warning. Clawing and vibrating in his sensitive pit, the pinkette’s laughter slowly falls to silent crackly cackles, tears soaking his cheeks.

Then it stops. Giggling deliriously, gulping frantic breathes of much needed oxygen, the aid of a warm large hand rubbing his sore belly in a manner that could definitely be taken as tenderness helps him settle far quicker then one typically would. “Don’t you ever kick me again.”

[the-elusive-soleil]

Instructions

Maglor sat the children down in front of him, then bit his lip, unsure of where to begin. 

He didn't want to have this conversation at all, but it had to happen. The other night, Maedhros had...slipped again, been dangerous; it was nothing that Maglor couldn't handle, but the same wouldn't necessarily be true of anyone else. Particularly not of the peredhil, and if anything were to befall them, Maedhros would never forgive himself.

“You remember,” he said slowly, “that I once told you to always listen to me and Maedhros, and trust us, because your safety could depend on it?”

Elros and Elrond nodded, looking uncertain as to where this is going.

Maglor took a deep breath. “You need to know that there are times when that...may not be true. When your safety will depend on not listening to us, on disobeying us, even. You should not have to make that distinction--I do not want to have to burden you with this--but I want even less for you to be put in harm’s way because I failed to speak about this.”

Elrond pursed his lips. Elros frowned, head tilted. “How will we know the difference?” he asked. “Between when to listen and when not to?”

Maglor bowed his head. “If we are ever trying to hurt you, or cause you distress, either because we are...not ourselves or because of the Oath,” he said. “You must stop us, then, however you have to.”

“You wouldn’t,” Elrond insisted. “Whatever happened, you’d never do anything to hurt us.”

Given the circumstances under which they’d ended up in his custody, Maglor found that statement ironic enough to be laughable, if he’d been in any mood to laugh. Instead, he just shook his head. “I would rather have the assurance, all the same,” he said. “Promise me that you will do this. Please.”

The twins exchanged looks.

“We promise, Atya.”

***

“Elrond, what are you doing here?”

Maglor couldn’t help but stare. He’d successfully avoided his one surviving son former kidnapee for two Ages, or thought he had, and had only let his guard down at all because he’d thought Elrond was on his way to the Grey Havens. Apparently, he’d been mistaken, because Elrond was right there, standing in the middle of the woods with him, a look that might have been fond exasperation on his face. 

“Coming after you, of course,” Elrond said, folding his arms. “I am set to sail West soon, with several of my household and some others, and I have come to make sure you go with me.”

“I am not meant to sail,” Maglor said, shaking his head, “and my presence would do you no good, here or across the Sea."

"I beg to differ."

"You are too kind." Maglor took a step back, then another. "Let me alone, and do not worry for me. This exile is no more than I deserve."

Elrond's voice was oddly calm. "And what of what I deserve? What your family in Aman deserves?"

Maglor bowed his head. "I am no longer the person whose return they wish for," he said, "and you ought to have the chance to know your true parents without my shadow over everything."

He turned to walk away, but found himself arrested by Elrond's hand on his arm. "I won't let you, Atya," he said firmly. "You are coming West with me, and if you hate me for it, we can work through it on the way." With a raised eyebrow, he added, "This is what you told me to do in such a situation, after all. If you wished me to leave you to fade in self-punishment, you should not have made me promise to stop you from causing me distress."

Maglor did not quite see the connection there, but in the next moment, Elrond sang out a cascade of familiar notes, meant to send someone into unconsciousness, and he was forced to put the question aside for later.

[agerefandom]

🧸 Hannibal?

Oh Hannibal is big caregiver energy!

I like it when people flip the script and write him as a regressor, but he's sooo settled as a cg in my brain.

Three Headcanons:

1- Hannibal is almost never protective of people, and that is intentional: the world shapes them and that is the process that fascinates him. I think that a regressor would cross that line: he would want a lot more control over what happens to them and how it impacts them.

That's not to say that he wouldn't allow harm to befall them, but he would want to be the cause of the harm, and be there afterwards to put the pieces back together in the shape that suits him best.

2- Hannibal would absolutely thrive on putting together a wardrobe for a regressor: all the little touches that reinforce regression (buttons that they can't do themselves, so he has to help: the clothes a little too big in specific spots to make them feel physically smaller)

3- he would want to Know so much, it's overwhelming to consider: he would want to know all the regression triggers, positive and negative, even the ones that the regressor isn't aware of themselves. He would want to know activities that make a regressor comfortable, and ones that make them feel vulnerable but not enough to push them out of regression: the memories that they associate with regression and the ones that they've repressed. He would want to know every inch of someone's childhood and their journey into regression before he'd met them. A vast expanse of knowledge that he can use to push in the smallest and most subtle ways.

send a character and a 🧸 and I’ll give you three random agere headcanons!

[eventinelysplayground]

A Sleeping Rabbit

There was a post a bit back by @ichgakr01270910 wondering about Chevaliers pov for Chapter 10 and if there was a fanfic out. I don't know if there was one but I got inspired by the post and wrote this. This was also the highest voted WIP in my recent poll. This pulls from not only Chevaliers route but also his episode 0 story, as always don't have to have read the extra bit to enjoy this fic. Emma's fallen asleep in Chevaliers room causing him to think of his past again. WC approx 940 also tagging @aquagirl1978 and @kraiyne because they were interested in this topic as well.

Ridiculous

Chevalier scoffed in disapproval as he peered down at Emma's face while she lay sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Not even that woman was foolish enough to allow herself to fall asleep in my presence.

“Did I not just warn you simpleton?”

Chevalier did not expect a reply to his question.

‘Prove here and now that you have enough of a brain packed into that small head of yours to defend yourself.’

For a frightened rabbit it was a creative idea and proves she is at least capable of thinking under unfavorable circumstances. As foolish as the position of Belle is, it would be an annoyance to have to restart the process from the beginning if any harm were to befall her.

Chevalier went to move but just as he did Emma snuggled closer to him letting out a contented sigh. The warmth from her body seeped through into his own and although an unfamiliar feeling Chevalier found that it was not entirely unwelcome.

You not only fall asleep in the arms of the Brutal Beast but you would willingly move further into his clutches? How foolish can no… wait.

‘Prince Chevalier, you're not a beast- you're a person.’

These actions are not from foolishness but your misguided belief that I am a person.

Chevalier had truly been stunned when Emma had made her declaration that he was indeed a person.

I have been accused of being many things but a person was never one of them, yet this simpleton declares me to be one without hesitation. Even that woman knew I was a beast…

‘You’ll never be loved by anyone.’

'Why is that?'

'Because you're a beast without a human heart.'

Chevalier let out a disgusted sigh. He moved more cautiously this time and managed to remove himself from his bed and Emma.

I shall have someone fetch her mutt and have him carry her back to her room.

Chevalier strode over to the door but stopped short, his hand hovering above the handle. It was not like him to hesitate and yet he found himself doing just that.

It is late if she is seen being carried from my room that will only further fan the flames of these ridiculous rumors. Yet if my fool of a brother were to find her here in the morning, the rumors will be ‘confirmed’ and lead to a tiresome and pointless conversation with four eyes.

After what seemed to be a long deliberation Chevalier withdrew his hand from its place above the door handle, turning around to study Emma for a moment.

She has already meddled enough in these matters that there is no escape for her now and there are ways I can use these rumors to my advantage.

That was the rationalization that Chevalier used for his actions; however even as he stood there he was aware that his actions were only creating more work for himself and putting Belle at greater risk. Yet even knowing that he found himself pushing that knowledge away in favor of keeping her by his side.

At least her knowledge of books is proving to be useful.

Chevalier reached down to the books on his desk that had originally brought Emma to his room. He picked one at random and returned to his bed, settling himself awkwardly if not carefully beside Emma. After a while Chevalier found her soft rhythmic breathing drawing his attention more so than the book he had chosen.

Curious.

Chevalier hesitantly reached down and tentatively ran his fingers over her hair, it was soft to the touch and smelled faintly of citrus and roses. Emma suddenly stirred under his hand letting out a contented sigh and Chevalier removed his hand from her hair. He attempted to return to his book however he quickly gave up as his thoughts continued to wander.

This is nonsense, why am I wasting valuable time with such senseless actions? After all

‘Because…because it's unnatural to be so calm about it! Neither the King nor I can find it in ourselves to love you any longer. As long as you don't know what love is, you'll remain a beast forever.’

Nothing has changed since then, I have always been the Brutal Beast. But perhaps…

‘I won't argue that you can be as cruel and merciless as a beast. However, I don't think that's all you are.’

Chevalier lay back down on his side in bed with Emma's back to him. His eyebrows knit together in concentration and his ice blue eyes were filled with a forgotten longing.

Perhaps this simpleton truly is capable of seeing deeper, into the very essence of a beast? That first day in town she faced me directly and didn't avert her gaze even when I drew my sword on her.

Although there were no assassin's in his room tonight, Chevalier still fought. As he stared down at Emma the fight played out within his icy eyes. Just like against a physical opponent the fight ended quickly however there was no clear victor in this fight and Chevalier sighed.

No, it is more likely she has been influenced by all the romantic tales she has read and her simple life. Once she has spent more time in the palace she will see there is no value to emotions or attachments, especially to a beast.

Despite his carefully crafted thoughts, Chevaliers body betrayed him. He pulled Emma tightly to his chest as carefully as he could manage and held her there, her warmth seeping into him and continuing to thaw the coldness it found inside as he drifted off to sleep.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

You’re safe, that’s all that matters

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 797

In the midst of a serene evening, Y/N and Gojo Satoru were taking a leisurely stroll in a secluded park, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Little did they know that danger lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike. Unbeknownst to them, an enemy had been observing their every move. As they walked hand in hand, a sudden gust of wind carried an ominous chill, alerting Gojo to the unsettling aura surrounding them. He pulled Y/N closer protectively, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Before they could react, a malicious curse user emerged from the darkness, intent on disrupting the tranquility of their night. The enemy's malevolent energy crackled in the air as they unleashed a powerful curse attack towards Y/N and Gojo. Reacting swiftly, Gojo used his innate Cursed Technique to erect a barrier, shielding both of them from the oncoming attack. The impact of the curse caused a violent explosion, but Gojo's impenetrable domain held strong, protecting them from harm. As the dust settled, Y/N clung tightly to Gojo, their heart racing with fear. They looked up at him, their eyes searching for reassurance amidst the chaos. Gojo smiled softly, his hand gently cradling their cheek.

"It’s okay" he said, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. But the enemy was relentless, launching a series of ferocious attacks, determined to break through Gojo's defenses. Y/N's heart pounded in their chest, and they felt an overwhelming surge of fear for Gojo's safety. Gojo's eyes narrowed with determination as he faced their assailant. He couldn't allow any harm to befall Y/N, not while he still drew breath. His Curse Techniques blazed with an intensity fueled by love and protectiveness, countering each attack with precision.

The battle raged on, the air crackling with curses and raw energy. Gojo's tenacity and power were unmatched, but the enemy's relentless onslaught began to take its toll. Y/N couldn't bear the sight of Gojo fighting for their sake, putting himself in harm's way. Summoning every ounce of courage within them, Y/N stepped forward, their own Cursed Energy awakening. They refused to be a mere bystander in their own defense. Channeling their emotions into power, they unleashed a torrent of energy, aiding Gojo in repelling the enemy's attacks. Their combined strength became a formidable force, pushing back the malevolent curse user.

Y/N and Gojo moved in perfect harmony, their connection deeper than ever before. The enemy was overwhelmed, their malicious intent faltering in the face of such unity. As the last remnants of the enemy's curse dissipated into the night, Gojo and Y/N stood together, victorious. The tension in the air eased, replaced by a profound sense of relief. Gojo gently cupped Y/N's face in his hands, his eyes brimming with pride and adoration.

"You were incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I knew you were strong, but seeing you in action... I'm so proud to have you by my side." Y/N's heart swelled with love for Gojo, their bond forged even stronger through their shared battle. They smiled through their tears, grateful for his unwavering support. "You're safe, that's all that matters," Gojo said, pulling Y/N into a tender embrace. In that moment, it wasn't just about protecting each other physically; it was about the profound connection they shared, the love that could conquer any darkness.

As they held each other, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by love and an unbreakable bond. They knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they had each other, they would face them with courage and determination.

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