#-> i know what *i* would have her do in that regard. but that's a secret. for now.

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[jittersbitters]

The Long Game pt.2 [Cautious]

{Viktor from Arcane Smut Story}

Warnings: smut, light dom!vik, jealousy, fingering, oral (female receiving), more exhibitionism, AFAB reader, Arcane + IRL accurate Politics, it a bit long, mentions of praise, choking kink if you REAAALLY squint, Salo being an asshole

Word count: 7.7K (40-60min read time)

Story plot: A holistic healer from NW Shurima works privately for Councilmen Hoskel as a sort of assistant. Viktor and her meet years before the events of Arcane and have an up-down relationship that takes shape over the course of many years. Starting all the way back in their academy years, first knowing each other as respective transcribers for their council mentor/patrons during meetings. Maybe they should have stayed in that room?

Chapter Summary: After a turbulent meeting with your boss you are forced to go to a holiday celebration at the Kirammen's. Having low, boring expectations for your night till Viktor's unexpected presence crashes you're suffocating political agenda and that of the aristocrats around you. Just when tension mounts and uncertainties seem to linger, a heated moment on a balcony has the academy assistant pulling you into the garden for a new level of risk.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | • Viktor Masterlist •

Authors Note: Sorry for taking longer than I said to get this out. I passed out writing and went to the hospital for dehydration and other chronic issues I aggravated over this last semester. I'm fine now and got released for Yule/Christmas day. It's not technically a holiday fic but it has the elements for it. It long again but I had nother else todo in the hospital and I couldn't post with their shitty internet.

MDNI NSFW below cut (Farther below)

“Councilman?” I knocked on the door, popping my head in with a quick look around the room. Large imported furniture and crystal edged windows that made light flit across the room — why couldn’t these windows be in the rest of the house again? “I finished rewriting the notes from the last meeting.”  

“Hmm.” He waved me in with a boney hand, glancing up just quick enough from his mess of papers to check if I shut the door behind me. I eyed him as I came to stand in front of his desk; the tension in his brow deepening as he squinted at his notes, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his eyes. I noted the number of lines he had struck out, effectively rendering that page useless. His eyesight was starting to go; I’d have to add it to the list of ailments to tend to— or attempt to.  

I threw a crumpled piece of paper that had rolled away into the trash can, offering him a soft smile. “Don’t worry about organizing the trade deals. My father had me handling his for years, so I’m certain I can craft somethi—”  

“Craft?” His laugh was coarse, filled with a familiar malic. He regarded my business acumen as little more than a joke in comparison to what my healing skills could do. “You genuinely believe I would allow you to draft such important documents? With that pitiful excuse for business jargon you just spat, I’m questioning whether I should even let you deliver them!” I visibly flinched as his snotty, blended gravel of a laugh filled my ears and making my stomach turn inside out.  

I flinched at the weight in his sardonic laughter, a sound both grating and belittling that echoed in my ears, squeezing my insides. How could I have allowed my empathy to blind me, even momentarily, to the repugnant shell-like cockroach of a man he truly was?  

Sadly... he had financed my journey here, provided a roof over my head in Piltover—a debt I could not easily shaken off without my parent’s coin purse. My parents wouldn’t risk their own money; paying Hoskel back might ‘demotivate’ me and endanger our diplomatic efforts.  

Their words, not mine. 

Unable to quit but him equally unable to fire me, I expressed my displeasure by slamming the notes onto his desk with a glare. He raised his arms like I had attempted to hit him, face mixing with disbelief and anger as he watched me take long strides out of the room. “You belligerent—!”  

I slammed the door behind me, hands clawing at the neckline of my dress, feeling the fabric constrict like the atmosphere in this suffocating place. I had to remind myself to breathe. 

~~<3~~ 

The Kirammen house looked gorgeous in the light of the setting sun. The building’s blue and off-white colors blended beautifully with the setting sun. A breeze gently swaying the bare trees tops and fluttering the ladies' dresses. I pulled my fur shawl tighter around my shoulders, feeling a shiver creep down my spine. My dress cut far to low for this weather, material cold against my skin as it shimmered in the dying light. It was not built for winter; I was not built for winter. 

“Cassandra is eager to see you tonight,” Hoskel said, gently rubbing my hand as he linked our arms to lead me through the doors to escape the evenings chill. 

We were attending yet another gathering for Piltover’s social class; a stuffy event just for indulging in the exotic food and drink from their stores. Loose lips made for the best business deals. Unfortunate for me, Hoskel had brought me as an accessory, an attraction he intended to parade around to facilitate prospective deals. The conversations typically stretched on forever, dull and monotonous Noxus in summer seemed better, frankly.  

 “May I?”  A servant helped me slip out of my fur before disappearing to hang. The house was grand on its own, though I still couldn’t help but admire the evening’s decor—pearl chains and satin draped with velvet bows hanging beautifully throughout the space. Evergreen garland and red berries stung with gold thread. The flickering glow from the countless candles pulled me into the warmth of its ambiance, nearly distracting me from the pair of molten eyes observing me from across the room.    

There is no way... 

My reaction upon spotting Viktor wasn’t subtle, but I made no effort to disguise it. A complex smile tugged at my lips, my heart fluttering in my chest. Viktor had never graced any of these gatherings before, and Heimerdinger was only slightly more inclined to socialize, once every couple of months. For both to attend... 

Viktor was up to something... 

He looked good, too. Suspiciously good.  

But I wasn’t complaining... 

Leaning casually into his cane as he stood with a group of fellow academics alongside Heimerdinger. He had traded his Academy uniform for a sharp wine-red shirt and a fitted black dress jacket. He had preened; it was obvious. From the shine of his shoes and the polished metal of his cane.  

A wave of embarrassment rushed through me as I watched his thumbs absent-mindedly stroke the handle, remembering. I haven’t been able to get the feeling, the ghost of his fingers, out of my mind the last couple of days. I had to catch myself from ‘slipping up’, letting my mind wander to far during the day. Then at night it seemed to be the opposite, unable to finish what he started as my body wasn’t satisfied by my own hand.  

The gold cord of my dress suddenly felt heavier against my neck as he caught where my stare lingered. Rolling his lips to suppress a smile as he gave me a small bounce of his brow, seemingly pleased as he looked at my appearance. 

I had never cared about anyone's approval, but his made my cheeks warm with shyness.      

“My lovely sage,” Cassandra Kiramman glided over, her arms open wide. Her dress was perfectly tailored to match the evening’s decor, resembling a pearl on a silver necklace. Her welcoming hug pulled me away from my distraction in the form of a brunette scientist. “Piltover seems to be treating you well!”    

“My sage, Councilwoman,” Hoskel interjected quickly, watching our embrace with a scowl as his opposing chairwoman shot him a reproachful glare over my shoulder.    

“Calm down, Tormund,” Tobias slid between us as his wife released me, much to Hoskel’s annoyance. “Your sour demeanor might just chase her away.” He wrapped an arm around me briefly, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Just let us know if he becomes too much. Our patron from midtown is always keen to discuss sun-stones.”    

“While he can be a bit blunt, Hoskel has been quite the gracious host these last few months,” I replied, glancing at Hoskel to let him know my words were meant for him as much as for the Kirammans.    

“How... unusual for him,” Cassandra eye the short man, clearly aware of Hoskel’s nature, before masking her suspicion with a smile. “You must join us for tea sometime; Caitlyn has been eager to showcase her marksmanship achievements,” She squeezed my arm before linking with Tobias.    

Tobias shot Hoskel a pointed look. “Give the girl a break, councilman. From what I heard about the last meeting, she certainly deserves it.” He turned to me, smiling warmly. “Always a pleasure, dear. Do make time for a visit.”    

Hoskel grumbled subtly under his breath as we watched them slip into the crowd of arriving guests. He grasped my arm tightly, drawing my attention to him. “Don’t wander off,” he warned, almost threatened. I watched him walk away, scoffing as he went straight for shady merchants and traders. Never a man to change.  

Seeing an opening in my night, I turned back to where Viktor once was and found nothing. He had seemingly vanished form thin air, leaving behind a conversation that reflected the same. I tried to move through the crow, looking around for him in the sea of bodies. My irritation starting to bristle the longer I looked, severely needing a drink.  

“Excuse me.” I tried to call for a server, huffing when a group to monopolize his tray. I turned for another one, following after another server as tried to wave for his attention without attracting everyone's around me. They only seemed to turn their back from me, “May I—” 

“Two glasses.” That familiar drawl cut in beside me. My blush from before coming back to my cheeks as Viktor stood there, hand coming up to gently brushing my up my back as he leaned closer. Body carefully hovering around mine as his other arm reached around to take the glasses from the server’s tray. “Thank you.”  

“Viktor.” I breathed, finding my words trying to hide in my throat as my heart jumped up to meet them. I took my drink from him, holding it awkwardly in both hands so I wouldn’t drop it “I —I didn’t expect to see you here.”   

“Mm. Was not my original plan for my night.” His smile warmed me from the inside out even as his fingers brushed the collum of my spin softly, curling to first graze his knuckles before splaying to take up as much space as possible. He was bolder, I had given him an inch and he was determined to take a mile.  

“That make’s two of us.” I spoke into my drink, trying to hide in my drink as his fingers made the muscles of my back shutter underneath them.  

“Are you not enjoying?” he asked, and I could sense a hint of hope hiding beneath his casual words. I hesitated, noticing his untamed eagerness running wild in his eyes as he watched my expression for any advantage.  

“...I’m mostly here out of obligation.” I confided, glancing at Hoskel smoozing. I sucked my teeth before turning into victor more, any reservations I had about ‘wander’ vanishing as I felt peeved by him- still sour with our earlier fight. “I’d rather be bundling or reading, but I won’t turn down the free food and drinks... or company” I took a sip from my glass, reveling in the sweet taste.     

He hummed, smiling into his own as he took a swallow to find his words. “We are... much alike, it seems.” He whispered into the edge of his glass before taking another quick drink.  

“Are you here just for the food?” I teased, pressing farther as I saw my own advantage. 

 “Perhaps,” he mused, before adding with a hushed tone, “perhaps not.” a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth as he spoke low in my ear like we were sharing a secret. I suppose we were, but he didn’t have to make it so obvious. “I can’t say my presence here is entirely selfless.” I returned to my drink, finding it nearly empty and my mouth still parched, as his eyes bore into mine. Conveying a multitude of thoughts and intentions that were unspeakable, less they be heard by unwanted ears.     

“You're quite the uncautious man.” I licked my lips as I swaying slightly. I turned to watch the room instead as I faltered under his gaze, his alone like a thousand pairs observing every little twitch my lips made and breath I took.  

The atmosphere thickened as the night wore on, guests gravitating toward the food table we stood in front of as new arrivals flowed in. With the added closeness, he was forced to move closer. His eyes traced a path along my neck and shoulder, tracing the cording wrapping my neck and the hang of my spiral earrings dangling from my lobe, watching how it brushed my shoulder every time I took a deeper breath.  

“In.” His thumb started to stroke between my shoulder blades as his breath fanned the side of my face, voice a low thrum in my ear. 

My breath hitched as I felt myself gravitate toward him, eyeing him from the corners of my vision. My heart starting to make its nervous ascent up my throat again. “What?” 

“It’s incautious.” His corrected with a self-satisfied smile, delighting in my surprise as his hand shifted up to thumb at the cord wrapping around my neck to hold up the front of my dress. He played with it, running the finger along the stack, his hand resting at the base of my neck. Holding me gently as he guided me away from the increasingly crowded table, deliberately closing any lingering distance between us as our sides came together. “How do you say…” We were so close he only needed to murmur, “The student becomes the master.���  

A rush of heat coursed through me, breath hitching in my throat. The cord around my neck felt suddenly too tight, and I weakly pulled with it in search of relief. 

His thumb slid under the cords in response, relieving some of the pressure from the back. Simultaneously, pulling them into my throat, the contrast made my insides twist and flutter. Did he know just what he was doing? 

“Viktor—" 

“Ah! Just the woman I was looking for.” I stood there, mired in thoughts about Viktor’s intentions when Salo’s honeyed voice cut through the ambient chatter of the party. “The talented apothecary Hoskel insists on keeping all to himself!” the councilman approached with a mockingly congenial smile. Even his simplest words felt more like insults, his eyes glinting with condescension. “You’re making quite a name for yourself in my assistant's circles. Even Medarda’s girl is asking about you. Well done.”    

I had to blink before I was able to force a polite smile, despite the flutter in my stomach quickly turning to annoyance. “Thank you, Councilman Salo. I do my best to serve who I can in need.” I felt Viktor’s irritation souring the air already as he glowered at Salo, hand not curling against my back now starting to grip his cane tighter. 

“Hmph, then perhaps this is the perfect moment to discuss your relationship with the council.” He slinked closer, cutting into my previous conversation with Viktor and trying to steal my attention like a vulture. “With your... herbal remedies, you could become a valuable asset.” His voice dripped with feigned admiration, his gaze flickering toward Viktor as if urging him to leave us.   

Before I could respond, Salo’s hand settled at the base of my back, where my dress hung low with loose fabric. My heart raced with discomfort. I instinctively arched away, only to feel his hand follow. Each brush of his fingers intensified my urge to disappear into the ornate wallpaper. Salo had the kind of connections that could shift the city’s dynamics, while I was merely a healer in Hoskel’s service. This position left me with little choice; despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to move away, I held still.    

Salo had never been this friendly with me, but he had a reputation for being opportunistic. I wondered how long it would take for the rumors of Hoskel’s deteriorating health to reach his ears, validating the others about Salo eyeing his resources for a takeover, and I guess that included me.  

Viktor stood a few paces behind me, tension radiating from him as he sized up the situation. I hoped he would let me handle this on my own; any bad reaction to Salo could jeopardize my reputation, and by extension my patron’s. Our fragile partnership wouldn’t survive a public argument with his biggest rival.     

“Think about how much the council could benefit from your knowledge, especially with a favorable recommendation regarding your parents—” Salo continued, oblivious to my discomfort. He began to guide me away from Viktor, toward his group of colleagues and traders to talk with. Hand incessantly pressing into the small of my back, uncaring. “—you could assist with—”     

Viktor stepped forward to stop us, his expression rigid as he glanced between us. “I believe the lady is busy, Councilman,” 

He just had to say something. My knight in shining fucking armor. It would be endearingly cute, if it wasn’t ill timed. 

“Oh! Heimerdinger’s undercity assistant!” Salo face flickered as turned to Viktor, a sourness to his tone even as he tried to hide it.” I did not expect either of you here. So many interesting personalities in attendance it seems.” 

I tried not to scoff at the unabashed classism; the Piltover-Zaun political climate was not lost on the surrounding Shumira cities, and it seemed to be as much of a game to Salo as my discomfort was. “Councilmen Salo, I think—” 

“Not that I’d expect you to see potential—beyond just scrap metal,” Salo interrupted, talking over me because I suddenly didn’t matter now that his authority was being challenged. Ugh, men.” you must see something of use, of course. Why else would you concern yourself?” The audacity of him, fixing his gaze on Viktor’s cane and his injured leg, as if he relished the chance to undermine him further. I could see Viktor's jaw clench, his eyes momentarily darting away, a subtle but telling sign that the jabs, however veiled, had hit their mark. “Just think about what she could bring to the council—her help with medicinal initiatives and valuable insights.”    

I leaned away from Salo with shooting brows, my tone slightly raised in shock and indignation. I wanted connections, not backhanded compliments at the expense of others. “Councilmen, that is not— 

Viktor’s hand found its way to my back, and my hiccup, combined with the warmth of his touch between my shoulder blades, caused me to stumble over my words. “The lady has other commitments,” he declared, pointing a challenging gaze at Salo that warned him to back off. His fingers firmly gasping at my skin, attempting to press me closer to him, each movement revealing the simmering anger beneath his composed exterior. Despite my embarrassment at my back became their battle ground, I couldn't help but appreciate Viktor’s defense. “It would be rude to keep her from them, don’t you think?” 

Frustration flickered in his eyes; he was losing. “Relax, we’re just having a friendly conversation,” Salo tried to hum, his condescension clear — he was used to charm working in his favor. “Isn’t that right, my dear?” He turned to look at me, pressing his fingers into my lower back, copying Viktor but he was daring me to disagree.    

Oh, now they were letting me talk? How kind.  

Swallowing hard, I bit back venom and fear, and I forced a tight smile. “Quite... However,” I struggled to keep my voice steady with the unease in my stomach, “I really should get back to my rounds.” I shifted into Viktor as his glare burned through the air around is, boiling as Salo’s smile returned, trying to grab at the last bit of dominance I just threw him. It all left a bitter taste in my mouth I wasn’t going to be rid of anytime soon.   

“I’ll escort you,” Viktor shut down any farther attempts from Salo, tugging me to his side. The blond scoffed, realizing he had lost and bowing out gracefully. Finally withdrawing his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, Councilman,” Viktor lowered his head mockingly, I copied clumsily, before guiding me with a little push, leaving no room for protest.    

“An interesting evening ahead, isn’t it?” Salo called, dripping irritation as he stepped back, the amusement fading from his face as he watched our hasty exit.    

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My heart no longer strangling itself in my throat. “Thank you—”    

“Come,” Viktor hissed into my ear, voice low. He continues to slide his hand down, leading me through the crowd, absorbed in his own churning thoughts and seemingly oblivious to how we appeared to others. He halted at the dip; jealousy evident. He allowed himself to cast one last glare over his shoulder as he let out a quiet tsk, thinking I wouldn’t catch him. But I did.  

I caught the way his fingers slid across the collum of my spine while holding open the garden’s balcony door. I noticed how he was taking up the same spot where Salo’s hand lingered; however, unlike tentative touch Viktor greeted me with before, this was unmistakably more aggressive.    

Once outside, the crisp night air enveloped us, washing away the stuffiness of the gathering and the tension from the exchange. It allowed my chest to finally expand fully, allowing me to feel lighter as I found my way to the balcony’s edge. The moon bathed the carefully manicured hedges in a silvery glow, and the intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine drifted around us.  The cool night sent a grounding shiver through my body, helping to steady my rapid heartbeat.  

I felt his hand brush over my shoulders as he followed to stand next to me. “Are you —” 

“You can’t bait Salo like that,” I interrupted this time as pushing his hand away and turning back toward him. Rationality flooding back, hindsight being unfairly 20/20. Seeing the damage we could have caused to my future here. I took a calming breath to stead any hostility that leaked into my voice; I wasn’t angry, I was scared. “Your words were sharp—almost reckless. Don’t you care how it reflects on me—or even Heimerdinger?”   

“Reckless,” He scoffed, not getting my point. “Heimerdinger will survive.” I tsked at his answer, looking away as his expression soured at the sound. There was something so genuine that hurt. “You think I should just smile and nod like a simple courtier? I refuse to compromise my integrity!”  

“’A simple courtier’?” My head felt like a swivel as it snapped back to him, gawking at him for a moment. Hurt sinking as his last word struck a chord.  

He’s too stubborn, but perhaps he had a half a point.  

“I am not... I — “My tongue feeling heavy as forced myself to speak freely to, basically, a stranger. “Salo is... a pompous, self-serving ass. I know he is, Viktor, but integrity holds little value in politics. I can’t screw anything up here. ”   

He hesitated, his voice becoming a weird combination of biting and soft. “His actions were unnecessary. I was merely pushing back.” There it was—a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. Was it jealousy?    

I stepped closer, my own curiosity peaked. 

“What do you mean by ‘pushing back’?” I watched his reactions as I talked, looking for something else. Though, I still had to lecture him, just gentler than I originally intended. “If Salo interprets your comments as an insult, it could backfire on me.” I glided around the balcony, staying with the railing, so there was at least some distance between us even as I stayed in his orbit. “Hoskel could fire me and then...” I shrugged, giving him a coy stare. 

A flicker of regret softened the fierce look in Viktor's eyes. “It’s hard to watch,” he confessed, “After the meeting, I—”, before hesitating, “You’re so familiar with him.”     

“Being familiar with him is part of my job, Viktor.” My heart raced, fighting to maintain composure as I caught his backtracking. Feeling excitement as I played with him for once. “This city isn’t just made from science and formulas; it’s built by perceptions. Salo has the power to manipulate those perceptions. This attitude could lead to...”    

“Don’t you think I understand that?” he snapped, the frustration growing in his tone amplifying something lighter, more vulnerable. “You’re worried about my attitude? What about Salo’s? His hand on your back tonight was completely inappropriate!” 

“So that’s what this is about? You think I don’t know how to handle myself?” The way his eye twitched made me refute the idea before he was able to respond. I could see why he liked watching my reactions, it was like a puzzle and his was growing interesting by the second. “No. You’re reacting this way because you don’t like how he treats me. Specifically.”  

And I was going to crack it. 

“Thats not...” Viktor looked away to find compose; frustration and compunction evident in the way his jaw clenched, staring out into the garden. A breath rattling his bottle, shoulders heaving before he stepped toward me, feeling safe. “His motives seemed questionable; caution... would be best.”    

“Caution?” I challenged, taking the moment as an opportunity to press. With what felt like glee, I tilted my head. Being coy again.  “That’s rich coming from you.” 

 He scoffed, “What does that mean—”   

“Hand on my thigh,” I shot, pushing from the railing to enclosed on him again feeling emboldened as I watched him instinctively backed up. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I watched one start to tinge his own. “Whispering in my ear to just pay attention,” I jabbed an accusing finger into his chest, feeling the heat radiate between us. “Fingers traveling farther and farther up. Persisting. Inappropriate.”    

“That was different!” He seized my elbow, yanking me toe to toe with him as a burning intensity sent a thrill up through me. “Both of us are at fault for what happened.”   

“Fault?” I scoffed; my voice laced with mock hurt even as a bit of truth seeped in. “You... You're the one who fingered me in the middle of a council session!”    

His gaze narrowed as warmth flushed fully consumed his cheeks, a spark of defiance igniting in him at my exclamation. He started to back me up, countering my attempt to corner him to the window with his own. “Did you not enjoy it...”    

“Excuse me?” I tried to retreat, only to feel my escape blocked by the railing I once sought comfort in, his body soon to follow as he boxed me in.   

“Did you not,” his head dipped as his hand came to rest against the edge of the stone as he left his cane next to us, “enjoy my fingers buried inside you?” His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that crackled the air between us with an intoxicating mix of confrontation and undeniable attraction.   

I couldn’t breathe. 

“Viktor —”   

Viktor leaned in closer, his voice playful yet laced with an intensity that sent a thrill through me. "Did. You. Enjoy. It?" His breath fanning down the side of my face and neck again. This time without the stale air of the party I could smell the carbonated alcohol on his breath mixed with the spice of something with anise. "I won't repeat myself again."   

I didn’t hesitate with this chose — "Yes.”   

In that moment, his lips crashed against mine with a fervor that transcended the heated words we’d exchanged. The kiss ignited the air around us and I melted against him, my resolve crumbling like fragile parchment before a roaring flame, consuming heat radiated from his every action.    

His hands started at my waist, burning me as his teeth found my lower lip and pulling it hard with desperation. A shameless, startled moan jumping from the back of my throat allowing his tongue to muffle it a second later. I used a tight grip to ground myself, hands sliding from his shoulders to curl into his hair as I gave back everything he gifted. Longing and frustration, a bitter-sweet concoction, two vastly different worlds colliding in a moment that felt dangerously exhilarating. I felt every nerve in my body awaken as his lips smothered mine and vice versa, adding gasoline to a fire that was smoldering inside us.    

I felt out chopped breath mingling, dulling my senses and drowning out the rational voice that warned of the trouble this could cause if someone looked out the window. One of his hands began to move to find the familiar skin of my thigh. Grabbing it with a hapless want, pulling it closer to his. Bending me slightly as he pushed in for more, teeth bumping as he took everything he could. I couldn’t bring myself to protest, reveling in the warmth of his body that seem to encircle me, protecting from the chill of a dry winter beyond this intimate cocoon we had created.   

We didn’t pull away so much as me having to push him back, breathless and dazed. My fingers playing with whatever they could grab, one still in his hair and the other fiddling with his shirt collar. I could feel the weight of our argument dissipating still, leaving behind the lingering ache of unfulfilled desires. My heart raced in my ears to the same beat as the party just a couple yards away behind a glass door. A thill matching the swell of my lips and the pressure of his fingers, it was dizzying already.   

Did he feel it too...?  

My questioned seemed to be readable on my face as he answered with another kiss, insatiable but sweet this time. A hand jumping to hold my face as he tilted my head perfectly into his. His hand bigger them my check as his fingers found part of my hair to smooth other my ear. He drank in every small sound I couldn’t hide, the hand on my thigh starting to push up the split of my skit. Tracing and thumbing the reflective material, teasing it higher and higher.   

His kiss was a sweet as candy, but his actions mimicked the liquor of our drinks. I was ready to risk being caught if it meant I could satisfy the slowly droning thrum starting in my belly.   

“Where is that damn healer!” The shrill, angered voice of my patron broke us away from each other. Viktor and I broke apart to watch Hoskel pass by the window looking for me, both of us stiffening as we waited for him to find us. Luckily, he didn’t, continuing on through the room grumbling something muffled by the door.   

I let out a small laugh that seemed to infect him, our heads still spinning. “I should... I should go see what he wants before someone comes out here looking,” I hummed, reluctantly pulled away from Viktor, giving a soft push to his shoulder to urge him to let go of my leg.   

Though when I moved around him, I found I was unable to leave as he stops me with a hand on my wrist. Demanding grip giving away his desperation even as he masked it with gentle words. “What if you didn’t?”  

I turned my head confused, “But —”  

“What is the worst that could happen?” He pulled me closer again even as he started to step away from the balcony himself. A plan brewing in his eyes.  

“I can’t just leave him,” I pointed out, only receiving an amused smile. “I thought we agreed to be careful —”  

Viktor’s smile widened, “Careful? Where's the fun in that?” He leaned a fraction closer, his breath tickling my ear as he chuckled. The sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket, making me blind with those fuzzy feelings again. “Sometimes it’s those reckless decisions that lead to the most interesting outcomes.” His eyes sparkled, his head bobbing toward the garden behind us, his meaning clear now.  

I bite my lip as I weighed the outcomes of my next words. “Interesting, or hazardous?” I countered, raising an eyebrow, to bide time. 

“Is there a difference?” He tilted his head slightly, regarding me with a playful seriousness that made my heart race. “You can’t deny that the thrill entices you, as much as it does me.”   

“Enticing, yes. Dangerous? Also, yes.”   

He started tugging me toward the garden regardless, slowly stepping toward the stairs with on hand dragging me and the other remembering his cane. “I’d hate to think you’d shy away from a little excitement.”   

“Excitement?” I felt my reservations fall away as I let myself be dragged. The smile on my lips undeniable, the butterflies in my stomach unfamiliar. With one last look back at the party inside, I willingly started to follow Viktor. “Well, I suppose I could manage a little.” 

I couldn’t suppress my excitement as we hurried down the steps, careful not to trip. Of course, we stumbled on a raised stone, eliciting a giggle from me and a soft chuckle from him as he pulled me closer. We continued down the vine-covered stairs until we reached a spot where the wall sheltered us from view. My back pressed against the twisting flora with grass tickling my angles. His hands resting just shy of the opening at the back of my dress, while smiling up at the windows we had hidden from and then down at me. The tension from the balcony lingered, more electrified now that we had stolen this private moment at the risk of our jobs.   

This time, I was ready as Viktor edged closer, maneuvering one of his feet to settle between mine, pushing me firmly against the wall. We melded into the blooming flowers that surrounded us, his nose brushing against mine. Our smiles mirrored each other as our faces inched closer together. He allowed my hands to trace his jaw before his lips brushed mine again. 

This kiss began slower than the ones before, with passion rekindling as he immediately claimed my lips. He wasted no time, yet relished each moment. Sparks crackled between us as his hands roamed the curve of my back and I pulled at his hair again.  

Stealing my breath again, leaving my brain short on oxygen, his lips began to greedily descended to the line of my jaw, trailing to the exposed skin of my throat. Dragging across the taught muscles while the delicate cord restrained him from getting every inch. His hands toyed with the excess fabric cascading down my back, as if contemplating whether to give it a tug for more access.  

I was taken aback by the whimper that slipped from my lips when he chose not to, instead contenting himself with what skin he could suck of my shoulders. He took everything he desired, leaving me breathless while one of his hands curved along my back, drawing me closer to him as the other hand roamed down my dress. He gathered the skirts, his fingers tactfully gliding against my thigh until they reached the juncture of my hip and waist. His head rested against my collarbone, the heavy desire making us drown in each other. His eyes were focused on the way his hands twisted the shimmering fabric as his breath fanned across my chest which rose and fell with anticipation.  

“Viktor,” my voice escaped as a gasp while I clutched his back, feeling my legs twitch as his hands drifted away from the fabric of my dress to my laced folds. He pressed and caressed with a teasing touch, elevating his mouth again to mine to drink my pants. He didn’t take his time like before; there was no slow buildup or gentle movements. He was desperate, and with no one to witness us, he could be as hap-hazardous as he pleased.  

His name slipped from my lips in the form of a soft moan as he pushed into me. My hair began to tangle in the vines, head going back, as he immediately pumping his fingers, starting slowly and gradually picking up to a steady pace. 

 He curled and swiped his fingers with precision, just like he had in the meeting. He instinctively knew when and where to apply pressure—a quick learner. His grin brushing my lips as eyes flickered between mine and my open mouth. I found it difficult to close, each breath becoming more labored as he whispered soothing words into my ear talking me through the start of a building orgasm. He was saying how good I would feel, how sweet I’d taste. His accent doing horribly wicked things, making the release come all that faster.   

“Do you think you could stay silent if I gave you more?” He asked, tilting his wrist and eliciting a deep, drawn-out gasp from me. His thumb circling and pressing the little numb at the top, dragging it down teasingly as he watched my reaction completely engrossed. Cheeks rosy and my eyes fluttering, losing all rationality to the feeling of his fingers stuffed inside me.   

I nodded; my voice edged with desperation. “Yes. Yes, I can be quiet.”  

Only needed my consent, he slowly withdrew his fingers from me. I let out a whimper at the loss, but any anger quickly faded as he brought the digits to his lips. It echoed his actions from the end of the meeting, right before they vanished past his chapped mouth. The teasing sound he made sent a rush of heat from my cheeks down my neck. Unable to talk, only pant as I watched him lower himself into a knee.   

“Your leg,” I tried to stop him as he tried to hide a hiss, only receiving a harsh smack to the hand trying to pull him up.  

“I’m fine,” He bit back, sending a warning look my way.  

His hand slid away from his mouth, gliding up from my ankle to my knee before effortlessly letting it rest on his shoulder. I felt exposed as the chill in the air made my legs tremble, a wave of anxiety settling in my stomach as Viktor's inquisitive gaze roamed over me. Unapologetically, he leaned in closer, tracing his lips along the inside of my thigh. He followed the same path his fingers had taken during the meeting, back to mirroring those precise movements and calculated gestures. His intense focus left me breathless, even before his mouth found my dripping cunt, breathlessness turning into a breathy moan. As the fabric of my skirt fell over his head, his lips and witty tongue began to explore, dragging and molding against me, opening and closing, reacting to every response until he perfected the rhythm.  

Which meant it didn’t take long for another louder moan to escape me, one I quickly stifled by biting down on my bottom lip. Soon to bust it as my hands tried to find a purchase somewhere. One strangling the vines behind my head and the other tangling in his hair as his nose brushed against the nub, a familiar pleasure starting to coil in my stomach. I started shifting my hips restlessly, chasing my release as it started to tickle my edges.  

Finding it hard to keep my lip between my teeth as sounds grew more desperate. The thorns of the vine cutting into my palm as my grip tightened, making him grown as his scalp throbbed. It made my hips raise in surprise and a shameless whorish moan to break past. His following tut draw it out as he held my bucking hips still against his face. Pinning my cunt to his mouth as his tongue moved between the folds— pushing and curling, the movements perfected already. A newfound determination fueled his actions as he pressed his face as close as physically possible, nearly suffocating himself. His grip on my thigh and bone of my hip feeling like it was going to be bruised.  

I chanced looking down, my eyes having fallen closed in this rush of lust. Prying them open I let out shutting gasps as I found him completely lost between my legs. The sight awakening something inside me, no man confident enough to act so desperate. Kneeling beneath me, For me. Hiding like a young boy in his mother’s skits — 

Wrong time to think of — FUCK! He can’t stop. 

“Don’t stop,” I couldn't hold back the longing gasps and soft cries that escaped from the back of my throat, his available fingers glided from my reddening thigh to join his tongue. They quickly synced, accompanying a chuckled at my new pathetic mewling and lust-drunk reactions. My hips giving small tight rolls, fighting against his grip even as it grew skin splittingly tight in an effort to maintain control over. Unable to keep myself from clenching, something he caught with another core rattling chuckle.  

He seemed to be enjoying how the muscles around his face started to twitch and spasm as much as I was enjoying myself. My thighs cutting off his air, much to his happiness as a groan confirmed it and sent my heart into my throat. A warmth starting to pool in my navel as the pulsing began to matched the rise and fall of my chest, hand pulling his head in harder. The band starting to tighten passed the point of no return.   

How was he already making me come. 

“Viktor, I —” He silenced me with a gentle hush, already aware of what I was about to say. I pressed my head into my shoulder, stifling a choked sob as the knot in my stomach grew so tight it became near painful. A shutter coursed through my shoulders, desire igniting my veins with a white-hot intensity as I teetered on the edge of true pleasure. This was a sweetness I had been denied last time, but now I was free to embrace it fully.   

The fall was so much sweeter than the climb as I felt every nerve in my body be lit a flame, hips stuttering as Viktor held my hips down against his mouth with all his strength. Both hands having to shoot up and bruise my skin in order to keep me still, milking my orgasm with just his skilled mouth till I was whimpering for him to stop. My plea faded into breathless whispers as I worked to salivate my dry mouth, feeling as though all the moisture had been drained from my very soul.   

When he finally did stop, I felt like all the air rushed back into my lungs.  

His rough hands smoothed over my hips and thighs, coaxing the tight muscles as he gently lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled his head from my skirt, resting his chin against my stomach, his eyes sparkling with amusement as his lower face glistened with my slick in the moonlight. I would have been completely embarrassed if my mind hadn't still been swirling.  

“What?” My voice was soft as I brushed my fingers gently through his hair, trembling slightly with the fear of shattering this sweet moment. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“That was absolutely not quiet,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly rose, using my hip and the vines behind me for support. I did my best to ignore the slight grunt from the strain on his leg, learning from last time. 

We caught each other’s gaze, and in that instant, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us. The moonlight enveloped us in a silver glow, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way the light danced in his hair.   

“We shouldn’t be out here,” I whispered, half-heartedly trying to sound serious, but the flicker of mischief in his eyes told me he was already thinking of a way to push our luck a little further.   

“Just a few moments longer,” he urged softly, brushing his thumb across the middle of my back I nodded, feeling my heart race at the intimacy of it all. It felt exhilarating, sneaking away and making our own wanton little paradise under the starlit sky.  

... Until a metalic clink came from somewhere above us.   

My breath caught in my throat, and I craned with him to look toward the sound. “Was that…?” I started, glancing back at him, but he was already scanning up the stair wall.  

Before we could decide what to do, a voice called out, cutting through our tranquility like a knife. “Hello! Is anyone out here?” My heart sank as I recognized the voice—it was Elora another assistant to the council, wandering into the garden. I glanced at him with wide eyes, and we both shared a fleeting expression of panic. 

 “Time to play it cool?” he suggested, trying to lighten to mood.  

��I couldn’t help but smile, smoothing down my skirts. “Let’s just hope we weren’t missed,” I replied, shaking my head as the moment we had just shared clung to the air between us.   

 “You first,” He smiled at me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as he nodded up the steps as Elora called out again, threatening to come out to the garden. “Perception and all that.”  

I gave him a thankful grin in return, doing the same with the squeeze. “Sweet,” I complimented as I chanced a small quick kiss, catching him off guard. I didn’t let him recover before I turned to walk away, pulling my hand away last. I saw him give a goofy wave as I ascended the stairs, plastering on a political smile to join Elora on the balcony. “My apologies, I needed air and the Kirammen garden in still breathtaking,” I linked my arms with hers, admiring her lovely blue dress.   

“Oh! We can take a walk if —” I stopped her from turning back to the garden.  

“No!” I said that too loud, drawing her suspicious with a raised brow. “I am fine. I assume Councilwomen Medarda wants to see me?”  

“Yes, your patron has been talking incessantly about your specialty in toxic flora and my mistress was most intrigued by the applications you have found for them medicinally...” Elora’s voice faded into all the others of the party as we emerged from the doors. I sent one long look out to the garden, a new bounce to myself as I joined the group surrounding my Patron.   

“Do try to keep your wits about you. It would be unfortunate if you were to embarrass me,” Hoskel muttered, his voice low but laced with irritation.  Never one to miss a chance. 

I rolled my eyes, “I won’t embarrass you.” I dipped my head lower towards the gorgeous council women to my right, her soft green eyes observing me and liking what she saw. “It's a pleasure to meet you Councilwomen, Elora and my patron speak highly of you.”  

She bowed her head back, eyes flickering to the balcony doors behind me, Viktor walking in finally, a fact unknown to me. “The pleasure is all mine, doctor.” 

(Himerdingers lab at the Acadamy or Hoskels mannor next time? still haven't decided)

Taglist: @freakboycentral • @jollyperfectiontimemachine • @ac1d-0 • @chaoticevolution • @that-gingernut-girly • @im-just-a-simp-le-whore • @shortbreadbunny • @circeinspace • @miju69

[kurokawaia]

DAY TWENTY FIVE - CORRUPTION 彡 Madara Uchiha

WARNINGS :: corruption, virginity taking, discrimination, breeding, size kink, madara is mean, degradation, x fem reader, restraining (using hands), prone bone, slight choking? afab, she/her terms, reader is timid / shy / scared / inferior / shorter than madara, CNC, Old ideologies regarding birth! + more

| WC :: 3.7k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

It was a reletively public wedding, so the entire village could see the bond growing further between the Senju and the Uchiha. All the villagers thought that it was a beautiful love story, one were the two of you fell for each other despite being from enemy clans. But how could they be so wrong, it was nothing of the sort.

It was an arranged marriage. 

This was the elder's decision, thinking that it would be a more secure way to confirm that the Uchiha would not fight back in the further future. The decision was made for the protection of Konoha and being Hashirama and Tobirama's timid, innocent little sister, you couldn't object.

It's your first night within the Uchiha estate, specifically Madara's. You stand in silence biting your bottom lip, in which the red lipstick that was previously there at been removed. Not only by the rigid kiss the two of you shared at the wedding but because of you nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands grip the primarily white kakeshita, you don't know what to do, Madara isn't in the room with you right now and you are too scared to do anything. You were a Senju, but now you are an Uchiha, bounded by those ridiculous ceremonies, paperwork and those vows.  Startled, you jump slightly at the creak the door makes as Madara slides it open, stepping into the room. His eyes trail up on to you, previously analysing every part of your body. YOu could feel it, it is so strong, the scrutiny in his gaze, the judgment.  "It would appear the Senju couldn't even grant me a worthy wife. Just a fragile little thing, aren't you?" Madara scrutinises and a shaky breath leaves your mouth.   Your stomach clenches at the words. Of course, he doesn't hide how much he hates your clan even now that you two have been wed. You feel small under his gaze, and his height. The way he looks at you makes you feel so inferior. 

To Madara, you aren't his wife, you are just a filthy Senju only here to bear his children. 

"I didn't ask for this," you whisper, your voice trembling.  He lets out a low chuckle and closes the space between you. "You think I asked for this? To be tied to the likes of you? A Senju, a weakling, a woman from the enemy's bloodline?" His words cut deep and the tears prick at the back of your eyes. You mean nothing to Madara but a means to an end, nothing more than a tool for him, to bear children, to give him strong children.

Madara moves around you, so now that he is behind you, his chest is almost inches away from your back. "What did your brothers think? That by sending you to me, it would make me forget the blood spilled between us? That I'd forget how your family has tried to crush mine for generations?" He adds. You flinch. Your blood running inside you was a brand of shame in itself, reminding you that no matter how hard you tried, you would never belong here, in his world, the Uchiha world, no matter how equal your clans really are. "You're nothing here," he sneers. "Nothing but a Senju in an Uchiha household. A reminder of everything I despise."

He steps closer, so his hot breath fans across your neck and your back tenses. His hand reaches up, catching your chin in an iron vice as he forces you to meet his gaze. "And now, you're here in— my bed, in my house. But don't let yourself think you'll ever be anything more than a Senju dog." Your heart races in your chest, but you grit your teeth, god, you're so scared. Madara gazes into your eyes. "I will never think of you as a Uchiha," he announces. "You shall never be of us. Our children? Yes. But you? Never." Your chest tightens. You feel yourself start to unravel, piece by piece, under his cold gaze and cruel words. You want to be able to fight back, scream at him, and make him see that you're more than the blood running through your veins. The hate weighing upon you from him crushes you, rendering you mute. The silence is then broken as Madara speaks once more, "Get into bed, it's time you played wife." Your heart sinks, and a wave of dread washes over you. There is no love in that command, no affection. His lips ghost on your neck, below your ear before pulling the sash that held your marriage kimono together before he slips the fabric down your shoulders. Instinctively, when the fabric slips to your elbows, a gasp slips past your lips and you pull your arms to your chest, covering your exposed body. 

"W-Wait," you managed to squeak out, your heart beating furiously, you swear that it was so loud that he could hear it.

You hear the click of his tongue and can feel the roll of his eyes. "What, woman?"

"I've... never... done anything... like this," you say quietly, your hands trembling, holding the fabric tighter to your chest.

"You'll do as I say, dear," he hums, emphasising the last word, almost to mock you. "I wouldn't want to... hurt you." Scared, you nod timidly, still clenching the fabric as you walk towards the futon, your body getting heavier with every step. You only just barely managed to sit on your knees, your weight on the insides of your feet. 

Your gaze was kept tight onto the sheets in front of you. Hearing a light thud hit the floor, you glance up through your mascara-tinted lashes, and you see that the sash holding Madara's wedding attire is on the floor. You can clearly see his abs through the opening of the kimono and his pants had been stripped too, you can clearly see the bulge in his underwear. 

Then, the last of his main attire was pulled off his body and tossed onto the floor, now he is only donned in his underwear, his body bare in front of you. And before you knew it, Madara was kneeling in front of you, tugging the fabric roughly out of your hold. 

Suddenly, the breath from your chest left with a sudden escape of breath as your body fell hard to the futon, Madara's bigger hands restraining your wrists beside your head. Your eyes widen while your lips tremble at the sight of Madara above you, his face so close to yours you could fall apart underneath his gaze. 

Madara closes in, his nose almost touching your own and your breath hitches. "I'm going to ruin you," he hums, moving his head to your shoulder, his lips skimming across your flesh slowly. 

God, you were trembling, you've never felt like this before, this sensation was making you loose your mind. He was being so mean to you, to one of the kindest people in Konoha, making you feel like nothing, and yet, how he made your body feel was something words couldn't explain. 

You were so focused on how he was so close to your neck, that you completely missed how Madara had already slipped down your underwear. His thick fingers pressed against the top of your pussy, so, so, so close to slipping in and hitting your clit.

Your back arches into the touch a breathy gasp falls from your lips and you want to scream in embarrassment. All you wanted to do was to cover your mouth and you couldn't even do that with how Madara was pinning your hands above your head. 

"Fuck, you're sensitive," Madara mumbles to himself, feeling and seeing how you react to such a simple touch, he smirks agasint your neck.

He's going to enjoy this.  

Opening his mouth slightly, he latches onto the dip from your neck and you squirm underneath his imposing touch. His legs spread apart your own, rendering you unable to move. Madara's stature is so big, that you didn't think you would be able to move anyway, considering how his weight was pressing down on you, how his warmth was seeping into you. 

Helpless whimpers leave your mouth as he sucks at your soft skin, leaving marks all over your chest while his fingers still lightly play with your folds, though, they never pushed past, teasing you. 

"Please...." you whimper quietly, pleading into Madara's ear so softly and as much as Madara wanted to hate your voice, it sent shivers down his spine.

"Please what?" he asks in a low tone, lips finally pulling away from your red collarbones. 

Your breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed a pinky-red hue from Madara's touches. "Please... could I have more...?" you question slowly, quietly and Madara smirks at the obvious nervousness in your voice. 

"More?" he teases, pressing his forehead against your own and you gaze into his obsidian eyes which sent electricity down your spine.

You nod small, "...Yes."

A hum comes from his mouth as he pushes his fingers past your folds, two thick fingers pressing against your clit and you moan shamelessly. You want to cover your mouth but can't, your hands are still bound above your head. 

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Madara hums as he presses his thumb against your clit and you moan, your back arched agasint the futon. Madara frowns to himself knowing that your eyes are screwed shut

At your reply, Madara's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Madara to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. You felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. As much as Madara hates the Senju's he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you, your face contorts into pain after a few seconds so he stops, head tilting.

"W-Wait," you whimper. "Gi- Give me a few seconds."

"Why should I wait for you?" Madara hums, eyes slitting at you.

"Hurts," you replied trying to regulate your breathing.

A tsk left his mouth, "It hurts because you're tense. Relax," he orders and you let your body relax under him, your breathing all controlled. "See? Doesn't hurt as much now doesn't it?"

You shook your head. "Exactly," he adds and he begins to pump his digits in and out your drenched cunt.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. 

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Madara's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

"Wait!" you sob, writhing under him. "Feels funny...."

"You're going to have an orgasm, just let it happen," he scoffs, beginning to scissor his fingers, respectively hitting your soft, gummy spot every single time. 

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Feels weird," you sob. "Feels... good too... though."

"You'll take it," Madara asserts.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release your from Madara's neck and move away from his hold.

Your legs are trembling around his waist, your cum and arousal soaked the sheets below you, dripping down your ass from your hole. As you open your squeezed-shut eyes, you see Madara take a taste of his fingers, licking a stip up his digits, swallowing your cum and your cheeks burn red. 

Madara almost groans at your taste, so sweet, he can't wait for you to break and split from his cock. Your whimpers and screams of overstimulation are going to be heaven for him. You pull your hands from his grasp as you feel the hold loosening and cover your face. It was an immediate reaction, Madara quickly pulled your hands back above your head. 

"You will not hide from me," Madara commands and your bottom lip trembles as you nod. 

God, your legs fall lip on either side of Madara on the futon and they tremble. Then you felt a big bulbous tip press against your entrance and you arch your back into the pleasuring sensation, a moan slipping past your innocent mouth. All you wanted to do was paw at his chest, and leave scratch marks everywhere, but you couldn't.

"Please... I... want to... touch you," you whispered through your whine.

A humoured chuckle leaves his throat. "As if I'd let a filthy Senju touch me."

You then got flipped around so suddenly, your breasts pushing against the futon, hands still pinned above you, face squished into the pillow. You then felt Madara's mass press down against your back and you let out a soft whimper at the sudden weight. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed. 

Madara's breath tickled your ear and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, your core getting wetter, your body trying to squirm away from the imposing hold that he had on you. Madara's hands moved slowly, changing his grip so that one of his hands held both of you over your head, being cautious not to get your hair entangled within the movement. 

A content sigh leaves your mouth when Madara raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance, dripping with your cum.

"You're going to take all of me," he mutters against your ear before taking a nibble at your ear, you let out a gasp at the sudden action.

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Madara sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A groan leaves Madara's mouth and a moan from your own as his length nudged the deepest spot within you.

Madara could've busted right there and then, your tight walls constricting him made him tense. You feel so good, and he couldn't wait to take you again and again, to fill you up to the brim with his cum every night. 

Madara moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good. His free hand grips your hip and he admires how you have perfect hips to give birth for, for a Senju, you're a perfect wife to breed. 

Madara didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Madara's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Madara rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Madara's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of you needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Madara was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Madara was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in your cunt that caused you to scream out in fulfilment. "Close?" He breathed in a humoured tone, causing you to let out a moan and sigh, body shaking with pleasure.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Madara's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. You sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "Too much, Madara.... S-Slow down.... too much."

"Oh?" he smirked, his hips moving now at a faster pace, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, "It's alright, you can hold out," he coos.

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. 

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. "Madara...?" you asked in a hush tone but he didn't reply and you wanted to sob because you just wanted one last thing. "Madara... please... I wan' a kiss, please."

"A kiss, huh?" he groans out. Madara hunches over you, pulling you closer to him and connecting your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallows your moans. 

"Good, taking me so deep," Madara groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripping again his lower abdomen, watching your cunt with black iris'. Observing how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of your cum and arousal around the base of his cock.

"Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Madara groaned his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, watching your innocence fade away, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

"Gonna fill you up," Madara groans. "You're taking me so deep, deserve to have my cum."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a filthy Senju," He leaned down and mumbled in your ear chased with a deep moan that stirred your insides clenching around his length.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head.

"C'mon darling," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing you to whimper in overstimulation, but Madara helped it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping you ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside you causing you to moan into his kiss. And you felt more of his cum spill into your fertile womb, painting your insides white, you could almost feel your stomach bulging from how much you had of your husband inside you.

Madara slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt, watching with a slight frown as the cum spilled from your cunt. 

You're going to look so good plump with his children. He's going to make sure you get pregnant even if that means having sex morning and night. 

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[sleepynoons]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU BY MARIAH CAREY– neuvillette (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – ~3,100 warnings – age gap, lingerie, oral (receiving), fingering synopsis – it's your first winter with neuvillette, and where you grew up, it's customary to celebrate by exchanging presents, eating delicious food, and spending quality time with loved ones. even though neuvillette is overwhelmed with work at the moment, you're excited to surprise him.

Neuvillette is known for his lack of personal greed, with the exception of his indisputable particular taste for certain flavors of water. Because of his asceticism, intentional or not, it had been difficult for the two of you to enter the relationship you now are in, but with the incredible aid and full support of the Melusines, the Chief Justice finally distinguished your feelings of likeness separate from others of friendliness and sociability.

To his end, though, you are known for your intensity, speech sharp with judgment, gaze watchful and vigilant, pen always in hand, scribbling away at a new manuscript or op-ed for The Steambird. Originating from Sumeru, you had been well aware of the turmoil brewing within the Akademiya, and managed to flee, even with such knowledge, to Fontaine. Here, you have been able to continue your studies from where you left off, as well as pursue your own endeavors in writing, which had long been restricted when you were a student. In fact, it was precisely due to one of your well-received yet controversial pieces in the newspaper that had landed you an opportunity to interview Neuvillette and ask him questions on questions regarding his thoughts on governance, the limitations of rule and government, and checks and balances.

You intended it to be a one-off instance, fully knowing that the Chief Justice is incredibly busy. However, you had a bad habit of losing track of time, and he is more than happy to speak in length, and your first conversation did not end on a fulfilling thought. As a result, for several months on end, you would spend two hours every three weeks with Neuvillette, which, by then, it was more than obvious you had developed intimate feelings for him.

Of course, even though you two are now a couple, the dynamics of your schedule have not differed by much. Neuvillette still has a limited amount of time to see you, though it is permissible for you to make more spontaneous visits to his office, if you are so inclined. But being the studious writer that you are, you still have not acted upon this privilege yet.

“You really should take up more of his time!”

You squint your eyes over the rim of the teacup that you are sipping from, taking several moments to think of a proper response. A part of you is still ruminating over the last draft of your manuscript, something you have been losing sleep over to make it in time for the deadline for The Streambird’s short story contest at the end of the month, but you know you should be more focused on the conversation at hand. After all, while Miss Furina is beloved by the people and is commonly seen out and about, it is still rare for her to request a private audience with someone as little of importance socially, politically, economically as you are.

“Miss Furina, I’m not sure I follow?” is the best you can manage. You take another sip as the celebrity huffs in disappointment.

“How trite! It has been so long since my last visit to the Palais Mermonia, yet even I’ve been made aware of Neuvillette’s situation! Please tell me you at least know of that!”

You open your mouth to release a hum of agreement. “Yes,” you say, “though I am not sure what his condition has to do with his schedule? Wouldn’t it be more advisable for him to go rest, instead of having me bother him?”

“You are incredibly dull, my friend.” 

You nod slowly, noting in your head that she is sassier than she lets on, easily overpowered by her stage presence and bright smile. Regardless, you are still not sure if you ae thinking on the same lines as she is.

Miss Furina gives you a few more seconds to think on your own, but seeing the lack of any recognition or realization on your face, she sighs before flinging three sugar cubes into her tea with exasperated movements. She then grumbles, “Neuvillette does not rest until the Melusines kowtow and beg. Could you not at least help save them some face and demand of him to rest a day or two?”

You watch as the sugar begins to dissolve into the tea. When instructed as such, there really is no harm in doing so. You nod again, and Furina yelps with delight, clapping her hands in a circle.

“I try my best to not get involved in his affairs anymore, but perhaps this is just my way of slowly repaying his efforts. Anyway, I need to carry on with the rest of my day. Good luck, friend, and cheers to your union!”

You realize you did not ask the more glaring questions of this conversation. You are not sure how Miss Furina knows of your relationship with the Chief Justice in the first place, or why you are the one settling the bill for lunch. You shrug as you wipe at your mouth with a tissue, thinking of ways to convince your partner on stepping away from his impending cases for at least a few hours.

The solution comes quite easily, frankly speaking. In part of your intense and serious attitude, you are also associated as being very independent, so when you send a note to Neuvillette requesting his assistance later in the evening, he replies immediately in complete compliance. That way, you did not have to risk interrupting him in the midst of his work, while still satisfying Miss Furina’s plea.

In reality, though, you only got lucky because you had happened to remember today’s date. You do not quite recall how you thought of it – it could have been a street sign or a poster that you spotted from your periphery –, but the whole point is that this day used to be very important to you as you grew up. Though you are not upset or even the slightest bit nostalgic, you think it is the perfect excuse to save your partner from undue stress and cacophony.

Thus, you make your way to several shops before returning home with two small boxes and a bag in your hands. There are a few more hours before Neuvillette is to arrive, so you shuffle all of the scattered loose leaf paper into haphazard stacks and stuff your ballpoint pens into your drawers to make room on your desk to wrap the presents you bought.

–

When your partner comes, it is already dark, overcast with dense clouds that pour incessantly. He knocks at your door just as you are stoking the flames in your fireplace, and you pace over to let him in.

You open the door to a very concerned Chief Justice.

“Are you alright?” are his first words.

You cannot help but feel guilty at deceiving your partner.

You place a hand on his arm, which he returns with the same gesture, and you rub soothing circles into the fabric of his coat. “Yes, I managed to figure it out.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to revise your draft? I am more than willing to, might you think my input may be necessary.”

With gentle tugs, you lead him to your rounded dining table for two, where there are already steaming mugs of tea settling on their matching saucers, and the two of you take your usual seats across from each other.

You feel no need to keep up your lie. “My sincere apologies, Neuvillette, but there’s actually no manuscript you need to help with. The Melusines had specifically asked of me to find a way to extract you from your work, lest you become glued to your chair.” You leave out any mentions of Miss Furina out of respect for her privacy.

“Ah, I see.”

You observe his face, careful for even the faintest of shifts or twitches to anticipate his reactions. But Neuvillette’s impartiality should never be underestimated, and his expression does not change at all.

“Are you upset?” you ask.

He glances at you, having previously been staring into his cup. “Uh, no, I… I suppose I have been dealing with a torrent of work. I apologize for having concerned all of you.”

You set your hands out, and Neuvillette holds them in his palms. You admire the feel of his gloves against your bare skin and watch as he thumbs over your calloused fingers.

You finally manage to hum, “No worries. Though, I have a few things I want to give you, so your visit’s not entirely a waste.”

His grip tightens. “It is never a waste. Forgive me, for neglecting us.”

You chuckle before slipping your hands out of his hold, and patter over to the wrapped presents that sit on the floor to the side of the fireplace.

“Here,” you say, as you set the gifts in front of him.

“What occasion are these for?” he asks, eyes glimmering with fascination. You have always loved Neuvillette’s eyes. While his face may be as set as stone, at times, you can tell fragments of his thoughts by the color and brightness in his eyes.

You have not told him much about your upbringing, and you do not feel inclined to dwell on it tonight either. So, in the briefest way possible, you explain, “When I was growing up, every year on this day, the community I was a part of would exchange gifts. There was also a large feast, with plenty to eat and drink.” You give a light shrug before finishing, “I just thought it would be nice to share a bit of my past with you.”

“I understand,” he replies, eyes and tone soft and gentle. “I’m afraid your presents will have to wait for next year.”

You know time means nothing to him, but his words still melt the rough, unromantic edges within you. You smile to yourself as you watch him unwrap the pen and bejeweled brooch you had bought him. Finally, when he moves onto the bag, you laugh as you see him tear away his gaze before shakily handing you the box from inside.

“This, um, seems to be yours.”

You release an intrigued noise before nudging the box back toward him. “It is still a present for you.”

“How so?” Neuvillette’s cheeks and ears are tinged with a warm red, and you are sure it is not solely because of the fire.

You get up from your chair, round over to his side, and stand beside him. “I forgot to mention,” you tease, “but this day’s particularly special for couples. They celebrate together, spend time together, and… need I say more?”

You and Neuvillette have slept together before, though the number does not exceed single digits despite the two of you having been together for a little less than a year. Such occurrences are usually a result of your or his feverish desires exceeding a certain boiling point, and you suppose this time, you are the insatiable one.

“Look inside,” you instruct with a flick of your chin. “Do you like it?”

Folded neatly inside the box is a red satin tank top and sleep shorts. The color shines brilliantly under the flickering of the flames, and you appreciate the contrast of it against the purple and indigo of Neuvillette’s eyes.

“Yes, o-of course. I’m sure it suits you well,” he mumbles, blush flushing deeper and deeper with every passing second.

You pat his shoulder. “Perfect. I’ll change in the bathroom, so wait for me on the bed.”

If it was really up to you, you would not even change in a separate room. But, for the sake of your easily flustered partner, you show him some mercy and grant him no more than two minutes of reprieve. As Neuvillette said, the set does fit you, in ways other than just size, and you are glad you decided to go the extra length to splurge on lingerie, as it is also a treat for yourself.

When you enter your bedroom, barely concealing the skip in your step, you see Neuvillette seated on the corner of your bed, unmoving. You doubt he has barely even breathed since you left him alone.

“Neuvillette?”

His head shoots up at your call of his name, but he fails to respond. His eyes, which were staring holes into the ground a mere second ago, are now drinking in the sight of you in your new clothes. They linger at the exposure of your neck and collarbones, the outline of your breasts, the flare of the top around your waist, and the contrast of the shorts’ red sheen against the suppleness of your thighs. You find yourself almost feeling shy at his undivided attention, and you rock on your feet, waiting for him to make a move.

Neuvillette only breaks out of his reverie once he has looked over your entirety. “You look mesmerizing,” he praises. He makes it sound like a truth, a new law he has amended into Fontaine’s books, something everyone should know and accept by now. It is your turn to shudder and lose your composure at his words, so you do not even try to respond, and instead, walk over to stand in front of him.

However, he quickly switches your positions, gliding you over to sit and him kneeling between your knees. He presses fleeting kisses on the inners of your knees, before slowly traversing up the length of your right thigh, nuzzling and pressing and licking. You squirm as he sucks on your skin, and gasp at every mark he leaves.

It is unbelievable, you think. Back in Sumeru, you were constantly teased, others mocking and prophesying that you will forever spend this special day alone. Yet, you are grown now, and being lavished and indulged by another, by your lover.

You try your best not to muss Neuvillette’s hair, so you clutch onto his shoulders. Digging your fingernails into the white silk of his shirt, you barely contain your whimpers as your partner begins to approach the heat emanating between your legs. You jump once you feel him press the pad of a finger against your hole, and cannot help but moan as he kisses your clit, the satin of the shorts doing nothing to dull the sensations.

Though Neuvillette’s actions are restrained, limited to only kitten licks and playful flicks with his fingertip, your pleasure compounds at an exceptional rate. By the time he lifts you up to slide your shorts off, you have already stained much of the fabric and are continuing to leak, wetness dripping down your inner thighs and the bottom of your ass.

“Absolutely decadent,” he mumbles, gazing with much adoration and intensity at the way your legs shake and your clit trembles.

Before you can say anything, he takes your breath away as his lips close around your sensitive bud. He taps and laves his tongue against the hood, pressure just enough to choke you from pleasurable stimulation. His hands are wrapped tightly around your thighs, to hold them in place, as well as bite his nails into your skin, although you have no idea when he took his gloves off.

“Neuvillette,” you breathe out. He hums around your clit with a more forceful suck, and you reel over, hunching over his head, hands sliding down his back and crumping his shirt within your grasp. Your partner understands your reaction as a subconscious plea to move on, and so, he licks his way down to your hole. He can feel it open and close around nothing, and it is only then that he is made aware of how painfully hard he is.

You grit out, “More – please.”

He knows he cannot further deny you. He laps at your entrance, entranced by your taste, before finally pushing his tongue in.

You are warm, sweet, incredibly tight. He pulls back, draws a large breath, and dives back in, pushing himself as far in as he can. Since the very beginning, you have been very sensitive, always reacting to even the lightest and briefest of touches, so Neuvillette knows your body must be overwhelmed by everything he is doing to you. He knows this is the case when he leans back on his heels for a quick rest, and sees your face, sweat tracing your hairline and eyes glazed over. For some reason, Neuvillette finds himself growing even larger, even harder, at the sight, and he distracts himself by returning to his place between your legs.

This time, he goes faster, accompanying his tonguing with circles of his finger around your clit. He can also hear you muffling your noises with the back of your hand.

“Please, let me hear you,” he says, between movements of his mouth and hand. “I need to know that you are feeling good.”

You are so used to practicing restraint and discipline, so you hesitate at first. But when Neuvillette presses your clit in that exact way you like and tongues you so deeply, you moan out loud, giving in regardless of your own wishes. And because he is incredible, precise, with analyzing your needs, he keeps doing it, giving you what you crave and desire over and over and over again, until you are brought over the edge.

Neuvillette groans as your hole flutters around his tongue, more of your taste filling his mouth, and he drinks in whatever he can. At this point, you are holding his head against your body, almost bucking your hips to close whatever distance is left, so that you can extend your high.

By the time the two of you peel apart from each other, you are about to unzip his pants before you notice a stain. You look at Neuvillette’s face, only to find him with a flushed, euphoric expression, and you feel surprise and delight wash over you.

“We will continue tomorrow morning, if that is alright with you,” he says, a little out of breath. You, too, are still heaving, so you nod in agreement.

Back at home, this day was spent with several people under a clear night. You would all be gossiping, dancing, discussing, and by the end of it, you would exchange gifts, though for most of it, you were left to your own devices, reading storybooks in whatever dimly lit corner you could find. This time around, though it is raining outside and there is no one else besides you and Neuvillette, you think this is the best celebration you could ever have. You would not wish for anything else, as long as you have him.

winter event masterlist

[lost-romantique]

Hey so I just came across a fan theory that said they think Vassago will play a part in reuniting Via and Stolas and during this process Stolas will pursue a relationship with him, again trying to refer to that one twitter post about Stolas finding a new BF even though it most likely referred to BTB guy. Also since his romance with Blitz cost him Via. That also brings me back to the same fear about Stolas’s ‘dirty bird’ song in season 3 that had the same person working on it as a song for Vassago that it may be a duet. But it doesn’t make sense since they’ve doubled down on how much Stolas loves Blitz, him pursuing a new relationship seems dramatic. And a love triangle along with all the drama that’s already going on seems extra. Also we don’t know what Vassago’s role would be, Loona or Blitz could easily also play a part in reuniting them. More fans who assume Stolas has given up on a romance with Blitz because he lost his daughter. I don’t think so, just that he is depressed about Via, not that he’s lost interest in Blitz. What do you think?

I feel like a lot of people are really desperate to get Stolas and Vassago to work out, but I personally feel like that would ruin Stolas' character for a lot of people and wouldn't make much sense in the long run.

Stolas has spent the entirety of Season 2, desperately chasing after an emotionally constipated lizard, and now he has him.

If Blitz is giving 110% of himself to Stolas, and Stolas magically goes "Well FUCK Blitzø, I'm now magically in love with Vassago". It would be shoddy writing, and many people would consider it cheating and a huge betrayal of trust.

Also, I think people are doubting Blitz here. Blitz is playing the role of caretaker and perfect boyfriend for Stolas because he sees Stolas as his now. Blitz is very much possessive of the things he deems that are his.

Blitzø Buckzo is a man that has fucked, stolen, cheated, and killed many people to get what he wants, and to create I.M.P. His entire reason for being is to keep his found family, and Stolas is now part of that family.

Also, remember, this is Blitzø's dream now...

Blitz is going to operate in a way to ensure that dream of his comes true. That dream of where he can eventually settle down with Stolas, and build a life with him and their daughters together.

And Blitzø will do anything and everything to ensure that he makes that dream of his into a reality.

In regards to 'Dirty Bird', I already made a post about it.

Also, Blitz has messed up a lot in regards to his relationship with Stolas, but here's the thing...

As Stolas says, this was his choice...

He chose to save Blitzø from execution. He chose to put his life down on the line for him in the name of love.

"I am the mastermind, the master of my fate. Sure as the stars have shined, I'll give my life to clean your slate."

He also did choose to give Blitzø the book, and start their transactional relationship.

[agarbar]

Don't Leave- Prologue

Sevika x Reader

MDI!! +18

You were Sevika's most loyal pet.

Warnings for whole story: (I will avoid giving too much detail of the plot of the fic, read at your own risk.) SMUT, Sexual descriptions, age gap, ANGST, SLOOOOW BURN (years literaly pass, kidnapping, aggression, Toxic relationship, aggression, cheating (situationship type), Sevika does not even like (or respect) the reader, Reader is delusional. Sevika hasn't lost her arm (yet), manipulation, reader might be described as curvy. More warnings be added later. SLOW WRITER! (sorry)

English is not my first language. I struggle a lot with punctuation and grammar. This will take multiple parts, and its set before the first events of Arcane. Its technically an x reader, but I will avoid using (Y/N) the best I can. There is an age gap in this story, the reader is also a bit weird and obsessive.

Sevika made her way through the crowd, her steel-toed boots making loud thumps as she marched along the wood and metal floors of the Last Drop. She headed to the ornate doorway of the top floor. The men guarding the entrance knew better than to attempt to block her path. The door swung open and banged against the wall, slammed shut just as loud. Silco did not even need to glance up to see who it was, he called her up after all. 

“You asked to see me, boss?”

"Have you been taking good care of your pets, Sevika?" Silco questioned as he reviewed their latest shimmer supply record.

She nearly rolled her eyes at his question. "My men know their place— they do as I say, no questions asked. They don’t need pampering."

"You must already know how vital loyalty is for someone of your position. Particularly the ones you are affiliated with." The man poured himself a glass of liquor. “So then? How have you been treating your pets?”

The woman slumped down on a wooden coffee table, not bothering with the fancy velvet settee. "What exactly are you getting at?”

"Certain rumors are spreading around," Silco picked up his drink, swirled the golden-hued beverage, and leaned back in his seat. "In regards to Sheriff Grayson." 

Sevika scowled as she heard the Piltie’s name. “What type of rumors?” She drew a cigarette from her vest and dug into her back pocket for her lighter.

"Insiders say Sheriff Grayson is going around digging for dirt."

Sevika blew a cloud of smoke out her nostrils, the burn alleviated the itch in her lungs. “Thought the Piltie had no interest in ‘fixing’ Zaun.” 

"The sheriff does have a deal with Vander.” Silco dropped the papers on the table, no longer interested in revising them. “But things can change fairly quickly."

“You think she will start meddling with our business?”

"She might," Silco said, circling his chair to look at his large window. "There are numerous sightings, all late in the night. She visits one person in particular.”

“And you want me to deal with them?”

Sevika could tell Silco was more amused than enraged. Especially by the stupidly obnoxious way he swirled the liquid in his glass. Strange, considering that the possibility of the Sheriff suddenly placing importance on their business was a big reason for stress.

“Sources claim that the sheriff has been visiting a little seamstress.”

Sevika froze for a moment. So this was it? This was the reason why you've been avoiding her for months? Her jaw clenched in anger. Of course. Of course, Grayson would be targeting her... she pushed her thoughts aside, focusing on what was important.

“Blue building, three stories high, store front at the bottom, sound familiar?”

"Yes, I know the place.” She answered, gripping the cigar in her thick fingers and drawing it away from her lips.

Silco turned his chair to face her once again.

"The sheriff has been going in late at night, and leaving before sunrise.

The girl was a..... plaything of yours,” He arched his thinning brow. “right?"

Sevika averted her eyes. She despised being questioned. “I never claimed her as my own, just.. entertainment. A distraction.”

Silco leaned back in his chair, his eye never leaving Sevika’s face. "And, don't you think it's odd that the Sheriff is visiting your ‘distraction’, night after night?" his voice both serious and amused.

No, you wouldn’t. You were an attention-seeking hog, but you were too obsessed, too devoted to her for something like that. But then again... you had stopped attending to her needs. After ‘that night’ you had not shown up at the Last Drop to see her. Or tried to seduce her, shown at her doorstep for some fun, or showed your face anywhere she frequented. 

“Are you implying she’s a snitch? For Grayson? My brat?”

Silco chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I’m not implying anything, Sevika. I’m merely stating the facts. Grayson has been spotted entering that little seamstress shop, night after night. And I find it awfully convenient that your little pet happens to be involved."

Sevika clenched her jaw, her irritation and anger growing with every word Silco spoke. "Bullshit," she hissed. "She would never.”

But a small, nagging doubt crept into her mind. It had been months since you stopped seeing her. Could it be that you were working with Grayson? Betraying her? No, there was no way. Was there?

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, calming her nerves before she spoke again. "Even if Grayson has been visiting that shop, it doesn’t prove anything," Sevika said, her tone stern. “There's no proof that they are involved."

"We don't, but we don't have any proof she is not either," Silco said, looking at how his glass gleamed with the moonlight. "I was going to let two of my men give her a visit for answers, but I doubt you'd appreciate me bruising one of your apples."

Sevika grimaced at the thought of you being roughened up by some ruffians. "No. Nobody touches her. I'll handle this myself." She snuffed out, her cigar on one of Silco's trinket plates.

Sevika stood up from her seat, determined to find out the truth. She needed to know if you were truly working with Grayson and if you had sold her out. She headed towards the door, her mind set on confronting the little seamstress she had spent most nights with for the last 3 years. Her hand grasped the door's brass knob.

"Take better care of your pets, Sevika," Silco said, "She was so loyal just months ago."

Sevika paused in the doorway, her hand on the handle. Silco's words dug deep, reminding her of the once loyal girl who used to attend to her needs.

"You think I don't know that Silco?" she said, her voice low and laced with irritation. "Just... let me handle this." She walked out and slammed the door behind her.

[housederiva]

so now that veilguard is out and digested, what would you say the best place for a complete newcomer to get into dragon age is? does origins still hold up as a fun opening game fifteen years later?

Dear listener my advice is to play Veilguard before the first 3 installments. I genuinely believe that it would be enjoyed more if you don't know what has been lost/what has been taken from you cut beforehand. The only thing from the first 3 installments that matter in Veilguard is one possible choice your Inquisitor makes, romancing Solas (If you don't have a previous inquisitor I highly recommend making her a Lavellan who was/is in love with him in Veilguard's cc, they have a beautiful story)

While Veilguard is a good RPG, it is not a good Dragon Age game. If you know what shoulders it's standing on, the luster will wear off very quickly. I love it for what it is and I will mourn it for what it is not - and that's okay in a sad, almost bitter way. Inquisition was game of the year for a reason and subsequently Veilguard wasn't mentioned at all for another

On the flip side though (and please keep in mind I'm saying this as someone who played origins in 2009) Origins, Awakening, 2, Inquisition, and most of their DLC's are a branching, beautiful story that will leave a permanent mark on your heart And you can choose what those marks are because your actions in origins ripple out into Inquisition (some more so than others). It will echo out through any other media you love in the future and depending on how old you are it will rewire bits of your brain because let me tell you playing Inquisition at 15 did something to me. Yes, the combat mechanics aren't the greatest in Origins and 2 is a little annoying to play on PC but their stories are wonderful...

What is it like to be thrust into a position of importance and did it stem from choice or survival? Is conscription liberating or a chain of resentment? What is it like to lose your home only to slowly build another that you love and cherish just to watch it crumble away? To know that no matter what you do, it was for nothing? What does it mean when you are suddenly a beacon of hope for a people that possibly are not even your own? What does it feel like to be held in such a regard that you are seen as the voice of a god and no longer a person? Are you afraid that your name will be erased - your culture will be erased, and you will just remain your title just like the one that came before you?

If you have no prior experience with Dragon Age play Veilguard first. That way you won't be upset about what has happened to [redacted's] character or the fact that tranquility is never mentioned and several other things that I don't need to go into here. But without playing the others first, you won't understand the severity of the Blight, your tether Varric won't be as strong, the injustice done to the elves and dalish will go unnoticed. You won't know what it means to be a mage in southern Thedas. You won't know what it means to be castless or saarebas, you won't know what vallaslin is.

If Veilguard is the first experience you have with Dragon Age then you won't know the teeth the series used to have, you'll only have what they're passing off as a growl and you'll be satisfied with that

[unholyhelbig]

Caitvi Prompt: Caitlyn is head Park Ranger and deals with an unruly deputy Ranger Vi who has recently become unruly and animalistic. Caitlyn doesn’t understand the change in attitude until Vi turns up naked and injured on her cabins doorstep.

Title: Shoot to Kill

Ship: Werewolf!Vi x Park Ranger!Caitlyn

Wordcount: 5019

Summary: It's been months since a brutal attack took both Cassandra Kiramman and Powder Lane from the world. Caitlyn and Vi handle their grief differently, but something just isn't right with Vi, and things can't be ignored forever.

Warnings: Typical werewolf gore, blood, bullets, canon-typical violence, animal attack, shooting, self-sacrifice, almost nsfw but not quite there yet, horrible spelling, I don't beta read we know this.

[A/n: I went overboard here. I love arcane, I love werewolves, what were we expecting when someone sent me this prompt? Anyway. You know I bad I wanted to make this full smut? SO fucking bad but it didn't seem like the time for them to fuck. So they didn't. Do people even like my Arcane stuff? Fuck no, but this is for me.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Blood filled Vi’s mouth with a metallic density that was not unfamiliar but was entirely unwelcome. A low tide of a headache was pulling at her temples, her mouth a cottony type of dry that she couldn’t swallow away.

She was running late. Even in the darkness of her cabin, she knew that she was pushing it by the way the daylight filtered through the slatted blinds. Caitlyn was going to have her hide. She’d been warned twice already, pulled into the office that smelled too much like lavender and wood polish.

Vi shoved her feet unceremoniously into her boots. She swished a shot of peppermint schnapps around her mouth until it was warm and frothy before swallowing and dashing out the door. Vi didn’t’ bother to tuck her shirt in and do up her laces.

Showing up was enough. It had to be enough. There was dirt and blood under her nails and her skin was taut with sweat. She probably smelled rank with the outdoors and her body ached something fierce from the night before. Vi didn’t’ feel comfortable looking in the mirror before she hauled herself to the main cabin.

The state of her was not normal. It was not human. But she was present and that was all Ranger Kiramman was going to get on this balmy Wednesday morning.

Doubt, mixed with a decidedly solid amount of dread, swirled with a fullness in Vi’s stomach. She was full, a feeling that she did not enjoy being. She had eaten last night, something big that left a horrible nausea clinging to the inside of her stomach. A heat in the back of her throat and slicking the inside of her stomach.

She crashed unceremoniously through the door of the main cabin. The annoying brass bell gave her tardiness away as it deposited her into the gift shop. Caitlyn’s deadly oxford stare leveled her with precision, but she never faltered in her delivery.

Loris steadied her with his hulking size, taking up just as much space as the bookshelf that he stood near. He regarded her with his quiet amusement and low huff as she attempted to shove her shirt past her belt without drawing more eyes to herself.

“As I was saying.” Caitlyn’s voice was cutting, slicing through whatever resolve Vi had left. “The rest of the week and into next is a fire ban. There will be push back. In zone’s seven and eight, especially. Overton and Dunne, I want you positioned there around the clock. Do not hesitate to hand out red notices. One spark and the whole forest could go up. Am I clear?”

A murmured chorus of agreements rung out. A burn notice would draw attention away from Vi, at least for now. It worked Caitlyn’s nerves like a string instrument. Anger still simmered in the stare that moved her way.

“As for the rest of you, you know your posts, and you have your assignments. Keep your walkies on channel seven and signal if you need anything. Remember that laws are not suggestions and safety is key.” She scanned the lot of Rangers, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled in the way that Vi found oddly endearing. “Dismissed.”

Loris shoved her shoulder with enough force to shove a burp into her mouth, one that was not pleasant. She nearly vomited up whatever she had torn through last night, but luckily swallowed it back down. He wandered over to the busted coffee maker where he would linger long enough for Vi to take her verbal lashing.

If it were up to her, she’d slip into the woods and take her usual post at the North end of the park, checking permits until her fingers bled. It would be an easy day as long as she could nurse her headache. She and Loris could squeeze into the same box and answer the same questions from the same brand of tourists until it was time to go back to her cabin.

The pinching floral scent that often invaded Vi’s lungs seemed to surround her in an instant. It used to be something she enjoyed, but as of late, it was something she couldn’t’ control. It was overwhelming in a way that was too much. It made her stomach roll and her throat tighten. If she were to vomit, it would be blood and bones and bile.

“Violet, I want you to take a walk with me.”

Caitlyn’s voice was unbelievably tender for the situation at hand. She was expecting a verbal scrouge. Even her features were worked into something calm. Vi was too exhausted to fight back. After her little side quest last night, she wanted to curl into a ball under her blankets and sleep for an eternity.

“I uh, have to assist Loris with the morning rush of tourists, don’t I?”

She shook her head. “I’ve stationed Steb. You don’t look like you feel well. Follow me.”

“God, you’re taking me out back to shoot me like old yeller.”

Caitlyn snorted and held the screen door open. Vi walked through it first, taking in another lungful of Caitlyn’s floral scent. She wish it were comforting. She wished her friend, the woman she used to trust with anything in the world, brought her some degree of relief.

She hadn’t in months, and they both felt it. Bone deep.

They walked for a few minutes. Until the commotion of the other rangers dispersing faded into nothing. The forest offered nothing to Vi lately. She hadn’t noticed it at first; the lack of sound. Crickets and morning birds and small animals that created a cacophony of noise that she had always taken for granted before.

Caitlyn’s breathing had stuttered, a nervous tick she developed at a young age that Vi picked up months ago when her hearing had risen to a deafening level. She shoved her hands into her pockets and softened her gaze, dipping her head. Attempting to show submission.  She’d never meant to make Caitlyn nervous.

She removed her green nightcap, working her fingers around the wide brimmed edge. Another nervous habit. Vi could smell the sweetness of her sweat, something she hadn’t been privy to since the funeral when her nose was pressed so close to the girls pulse point that the smell had coated every inch of her.

Vi was so close that she could hear the rush of her blood and the pounding of her heart. Her mouth filled with saliva so rapidly that she couldn’t keep up with swallowing. She’d nearly drooled at the thought of opening her maw and tearing Caitlyn’s jugular out with one clamp of her jaw.

Shoving her away and storming from the procession was attributed to grief. Anger at nature for having the audacity of taking them in the first place. Caitlyn and Vi must have been hurting so much that any action they committed was acceptable for a time.

Six months later and people still asked how they were doing. Caitlyn would tell them that she was fine. Vi would tell them that she felt like shit. Both would smile sadly. Caitlyn threw herself into her inherited role of Head Ranger and Vi drank on nights that she couldn’t forget and leaned into nights that she didn’t remember.

“They expect me to strip you of your title.” Caitlyn sighed out in one hot breath that splayed against Vi’s cheeks. “Those rangers in there… know I have a soft spot for you, Vi. Anyone else and I would have done far worse. They’d be out of a job.”

Caitlyn frowned and plopped down onto the pebbled shore next to a stream. Run-off from one of the glaciers at the top of the peak. The water was crisp and clear. Vi would dip her fingers into it sometimes, trying to disturb the flow and shock some sense into herself. She lowered herself carefully next to her friend. The only girl who had ever made her ache this viciously.

“I didn’t mean to put you in that position, Cupcake.”

“You’re hurting.”

“So are you.”

Vi swallowed something thick in her throat, picked up a smooth stone and dug her fingers into it as if she could shave off decades of shaping. Trout colored eyes traced the curve of Caitlyn’s side profile as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. She drew in careful breathes. The sound of the stream drowned out the silence around them.

Cassandra Kiramman’s entrails had been gnawed into paste after her stomach was torn open unceremoniously. Vi remembers the squelch of flesh and the snap of her sternum. Her screams had turned into a drowned gurgle before there was nothing.

The creature, after having gotten the taste for the richness of Kiramman blood, had gone for the throat and mercifully took Cassandra out of her misery. Vi watched the light leave her eyes. Something she’d seen slowly dim in Caitlyn’s over the months.

Now, she clenched her own eyes shut. “I can’t leave these woods, Cait. They’re all I know. I’ll try harder.”

“I know you will. I didn’t come out here to, what did you say? Shoot you like old yeller. I might be in charge of you, Violet, but I’m also your friend.” Her voice wavered on the word, stuck in her throat as much as she allowed. “I want you to talk to me.”

She gave her a sad grin “I talk to you all the time, Cupcake.”

“You know what I mean.” Cait’s eyebrow twitched. She hesitated, something she never did. Not in all the years that Vi had known her. But it was only for a moment. Her hand slipped into Vi’s, dislodging the stone she had wanted to thread into putty. “You can talk to me.”

Vi felt her throat tighten and a dampness come to her eyes that she quickly blinked away. Whatever she ate last night threatened to make a third return. She nodded, afraid to speak, but it seemed to be enough to Caitlyn. She gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. It was warm and solid.

Greif weighed heavily between them both. But the lead that welded Vi’s jaw shut was more than subconscious. If she could help it, and she could, Caitlyn would never find out about the animal that shredded her mother.

It had been closed casket for a reason.

They buried an empty one for Jinx. Vi had been in and out of consciousness through her own blinding pain. She’d gasped. It was caught in her throat along with the scent of Cassandras viscera. Long teeth had crunched through Vi’s left lumbar, the soft brawn of her giving away like it was tillable earth.  

She’d looked into the creature’s eyes. They were glowing red, feral. It was frothing at the mouth, saliva mixing so deliciously with what could only be Vi’s own blood. There was nothing but hunger behind it’s actions. And for a moment, Vi could understand that want.

Only for a moment.

Jinx- Powder- she had a loud whistle that could catch the attention of a hound within a ten-mile radius. This snapping animal was no different. It whipped it’s maw up fast enough to drip saliva against Vi’s festering wounds.

“Don’t!” Vi had screamed because she was so desperate to save her little sister. But the look in her eyes was resolute. Even in the light of the full moon. It showed more than the hunger, the viciousness. Jinx was on a mission. A martyr that would die for her charge.

She had the audacity to nod at Vi that night, to grin at her in a wolfish manner before her boots kicked up gravel. Evidently, the animal enjoyed the chase more than the prey it had pinned under it’s large paws. Claws dug sharply into Vi’s chest and stomach, tearing like soft butter into her stomach and chest.

Vi remembers screaming. She remembers the warmth of her own blood and the pale light of the moon overhead. She thinks she remembers her sisters maniacal howl combined with that of her own.

No… She would spare Caitlyn Kiramman the pain that her mother had endured. Some things are better left unlearned.

The smell of gunpowder, sulfurous and smokey, brought up a helping of vomit that Vi couldn’t swallow down. She thought it was vomit but couldn’t quite tell. It could have been nothing more than blood surfacing from the wound that had torn through the wound in her sternum.

The head ranger herself had fired off what was supposed to be a warning shot, but even with her immense fear clouding her aim, she had managed to land a slug in Violet. Silver. It burned viciously, sizzled like acid. Maybe it had been bile that splattered onto the forest floor in a stringy mess.

Vi’s vision was blurry with tears, cheek pressed to the earth as she watched Caitlyn on the front porch of her cabin, clutching her rifle. She released vapor with each breath, eyes methodically scanning the tree line.

Her bones were morphing into something human, something much more becoming. The bullet lodged within her was making it nearly impossible. Her nails were long, her ears tipped with red fur akin to her own hair. Her pointed teeth digging so painfully into her bottom lip to stifle her pained growls.

She was far from wolf, but far from mortal.

When the moon rose this high, she lost herself in the pain and the hunger that had led to her original demise. Vi preferred it this way. She separated the beast that tore through her once a month from the human that kept it at bay the rest of the time. She didn’t know what the wolf did. Did not want to.

Anger surged through her now.

The National Park was endless, and yet… yet… she was at Caitlyn Kiramman’s doorstep. There was a sinking feeling within her that the creature she’d buried deep had been stalking the woman. The disease that had transferred through bite, through blood, couldn’t get enough. Wouldn’t unclamp it’s greedy jaws.

Violet craved Caitlyn’s touch. Preened under her approval. The creature must do the same. Had to, if it had gotten close enough for a shot to be fired. For a bullet to hit.

She rolled over onto her back and started clawing desperately with her sharpened nails at the shot. She clipped down on her tongue to swallow her scream, digging around the wound. She couldn’t grasp it, only pushed it further down. She swore she would drown in her own blood. It threatened to heal around her fingers, causing nothing but undeniable agony.

Cait had lowered the muzzle of her gun, squinting directly where she lay, as if she could see directly into Vi’s soul. Frosty eyes watched her, and she’d be damned if they didn’t send a chill down her spine, regardless of the thin line of blood that dripped down the corner of her mouth.

This was about more than swallowing her pride. Caitlyn was her only lifeline here. She wouldn’t blame the girl for taking one look at her and firing a second shot that wasn’t a warning right between her eyebrows.

Another tweak of horrible pain and her decision was made. Vi dug her slowly receding nails into the soft soil and dragged herself to the edge of the head rangers property. She was trembling, weak. The pale moonlight hitting her tattooed marred skin. She stiffened, feeling an odd rush counter her pain.

Caitlyn sucked in a sharp breath and repositioned her weapon, steeling her stance. Vi lazily dug her chin into the earth and stared at the woman with stars in her eyes. She used to lounge on Cait’s bed with the same disposition. Albeit in less throbbing pain.

“Violet?”

The safety was switched off and the rifle was propped up against the door. Caitlyn was dashing across the lawn, barefoot despite the many times she had warned her own rangers against the dangers of doing so. Goosebumps prickled against her skin and undeniable worry etched onto her beautiful features.

She dropped to her knees, despite the dampness of the grass. Vi Stiffened, attempted to press her face into the grass but Caitlyn’s hands were quicker to cup her face. She could see the reflection of the golden glow in the blue of the woman’s gaze.

Vi stifled a whimper at the hold. She was naked and could feel her muscles stiffening. It was getting harder to move, to breathe without feeling the burn in her lungs. They crackled uncomfortably. The hands that cradled her face were warm. If she were to die at this moment, this would be enough.

“Darling, did I…” her voice was choked “I’ve shot you.”

“You never miss, Cupcake.”  

“I thought you were an animal.” She swiped both thumbs across Vi’s cheeks, wiping away tears and dirt and sweat, and maybe a little bit of blood.

“I think I might be.”

“Oh.”

The conversation was far too casual, Vi decided. She wavered in the cold, coughed up another mouthful of mucus and blood. This changed the worry in Caitlyn’s eyes to something harder that resembled the training that both of them had.

She scooped Vi up with strength that lingered fruitfully under her soft cotton t-shirt sleep clothes. The smaller woman opened her mouth to protest but the words died as her vision fluttered at the edges and her head slotted so easily into the small of Caitlyn’s throat.

It would be so easy her wolf howled to taste her.

Vi whined to drown out the thought, clutched the fabric that she clung to like a life raft. If Loris or Steb or even the orange-haired receptionist that glowered at her with contempt from behind the gift shop desk saw her now she would blanch. Never admit had content she felt in Caitlyn Kiramman’s arms.

And, God, was she content.

Caitlyn kicked the door to her cabin open and Vi breathed in a mix of spices from an earlier dinner untouched. She knew the layout of the cabin well, could hear the low crackle of a fire and could feel the heat of it as she was set down on the sofa that mirrored the hearth.

“I don’t understand it. I’ve nailed you with a shot right in the chest. You should be dead, or at the very least on it’s doorstep, not mine. You’re regarding me with discontent like I tasered you, or stunned you. Not like I took a Winchester and fired off a round. I rightly should take the stat phone and call the proper authority to get you to the emergency room and me to the psych ward.”

Caitlyn rambled in an adorably infuriating way when she was flustered. Even if Vi could get past the dryness in her throat she wouldn’t stop her. She enjoyed the way her cheeks would grow pink and she’d work the impassable problems out by her own accord.

She was flitting around, grabbing antiseptic, and medical kits that she had stashed, because she knew exactly what to do. Vi hadn’t realized she opened her eyes, or that she was watching her with a lazy content, but that’s exactly what she was doing, hand resting above her wound to subconsciously protect herself, breathing stuttered.

Her nails had retracted and so had her ears, thankfully. But her teeth still felt crowded in her mouth and she couldn’t calm her heart. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, if her eyes still shown a dangerous golden yellow. Caitlyn, her Caitlyn, had seen them either way. She balked at the fact.

“Cait,” Vi eventually stuttered out, clinging onto that floral scent that surrounded her so diligently. The Ranger was at her side in just a moment, crouching next to the sofa, grasping at her flexed and unflexed bicep. It was coated in a sheen of cold sweat. “I need you to get the bullet out. Please.”

That flicker of doubt was there again. It was brief but startling all the same. The Kiramman’s did not falter. She stared openly at Vi’s bare chest. At the pierced, pert nipples and the marred flesh in between them. In any other situation she would make a crude comment to cover her embarrassment, but this was not any other situation and Vi needed this bullet out now.

She gently grabbed the side of Caitlyn’s face, directing her attention, leading that deadly Cambridge stare to her own. “I understand that I am the last… I am the last… I didn’t…”

Vi was going about this wrong. She didn’t know how to get the words out. She didn’t know how to say that the same monster that had torn Caitlyn’s mother to shreds had taken up residence in her bones. Had changed her. They weren’t the same teeth, the same claws, but they had the same intention, could shed the same blood.

A sob tore through her, one that reminded Vi much of ones last. A death rattle. Caitlyn’s hot hand was holding her down in a moment, splayed against taut muscle. She was digging through an open first aide kit and searching for titanium prongs, a crease formed between her eyebrows.

“Hold this.”

Caitlyn barked the demand, and a wad of gauze was suddenly shoved into Vi’s mouth, catching on her chapped lips. She bit down so she wouldn’t choke on it. Caitlyn didn’t give a count down. It wasn’t her style. She didn’t coddle, or nurse you through pain that was known to be excruciating.

Instead, she dug the pointed prongs into the wound that was desperate to heal. Vi moaned around the gag, nails slashing even lines into the nearest throw pillow. Her claws were quick to come out, spilling stuffing as tears clouded her vision. Her back arched from the sofa as drool frothed from the corners of her mouth.

Caitlyn had the audacity to shush her like a petulant child. She plowed through the recesses of her injury, the layers of tissue and tendons. The gauze became damp and sticky with pink saliva. The heel of Caitlyn’s free hand was digging painfully into Vi’s shoulder to pin her down.

If Vi hadn’t been blinded by pain, she would relish in the way Caitlyn’s body was slotted against her own, having shifted. A sure knee in between her legs, pressed against her center. They were in a compromising position. Caitlyn’s breath was warm as it splayed across her chest. Vi’s rapid and building.

After a few agonizing moments, the prongs were pulled away and the bullet dropped to the floor with a clatter. Nothing could be heard but the punctuated panting of both women and the crackling of fire eating through logs. They were still. Vi’s teeth clenched and Cait’s hands still splayed near the wound that slowly began to seal itself in front of her disbelieving eyes.

Vi was filled with unrest. Dissatisfaction. Her hands were pinned and her throat was slick with blood. Her skin was buzzing and clarify had hit her like a truck now that the damned bullet had been pulled out. She was naked, vulnerable. And Caitlyn fucking Kiramman was on top of her.

Vi was saying something. Her stupid mouth was saying something, but it was muffled by the gauze, and Caitlyn lifted a shaky hand, pulling it from her lips with blood-soaked hands. “what?”

“Can you get off of me?” her words cracked. “I’m naked, cupcake.”

Caitlyn drew in a sharp breath, flicking her gaze down for an agonizing moment before shifting her weight off Vi. The sensation was immediately missed. A whimper quelled, swallowed along with the metallic taste that lingered on her tongue. Vi scrambled herself, pulling the throw blanket on the back of the sofa around her shoulders and making her hulking frame as small as she possibly could as she curled under the scratchy material.

She reveled in the scent of Caitlyn. Something that had been so oppressing the month before when they spoke in the woods. Now she swam in it. Hell, she wanted to drown in it. The Ranger busied herself with grabbing alcohol wipes from the first aide kit.

When she settled, she did so next to Vi. Their knees touching, as if any type of distance would make her perish. The gesture made her heart pound. It still ached, still fought to heal, but she didn’t’ mind. Caitlyn wordlessly asked for her hand and used her teeth to tear away the paper of the antiseptic wipe.

Vi always had larger hands than Caitlyn. But Caitlyn was nimble and methodic where Vi was clunky and impulsive. Despite the blood that had dried around her nailbeds, Caitlyn started the heavy task of cleaning the dirt and muck away from Vi’s knuckles. Neither of them speaking for a good, long while. She was waiting for Vi to speak, and she would wait for however long it took. She would always wait.

“I black out a lot.”

Caitlyn’s movement’s stilled for a moment. She had cleared most of the blood away from Vi’s left hand and moved on the right. There was a tiny mountain of wipes on the coffee table and the chemical scent was burning both of their lungs. She resumed her work with a committal hum.

“I think it’s a small mercy, really. I don’t want to remember. After that night, I knew something was different about me, but I wanted to attribute it to the grief, to the drinking. To anything other than what I knew was sitting in front of me all along.”

Caitlyn was scrubbing particularly hard at a spot of blood that refused to release itself from Vi’s skin at the base of her palm. Vi gently took the woman’s hands, giving them a squeeze, drawing her attention from the task. Her eyes were red around the edges from exhaustion. From emotion. She sniffed, glowered dangerously at Vi.

“The thing that… took your mother and Powder away from us it” Vi’s voice shattered. She grimaced and looked towards the fire. Tried to clear the emotion from her chest, but couldn’t quick staunch it. Never really could when it came to Caitlyn, so she embraced it instead, stared directly into the eye of the storm as it swirled. “When it bit me, it changed me. I don’t think it had a choice in what it was and I don’t think I have a choice in what I am now.

“This forest needs something to harbor it’s pain, and it breaks my heart more and more every single day that we crossed it’s path that night.” Vi’s head dropped, tears falling into her lap. Her shoulders convulsed. She was shaking, she knew. Too tired to fight them off. “You can hate me, Cait. I’m begging you to hate me. I would hate me.”

Hands were quick to find her cheeks and franticly wipe away at heated tears before patting at her collarbone until she looked up with confusion in her stare. Vi met an expression that was nothing more than stark tenderness, a flat line of a mouth. Caitlyn was calculating. She was exasperated. The look she often carried for Vi.

“Hate you? Why on earth would I hate you Vi?”

“I… I couldn’t stop it. I became it.”

“Darling,”

It was the subtle shake of her head, the gentleness of the single word, the quiet acceptance in her eyes. Everything combined. Vi crumbled. She fell forward and into Caitlyn’s arms. The Ranger let out a huff of air but accepted her all the same. She did not hesitate to pull her close, Vi’s ear pressed against Caitlyn’s stomach as she buried her head into the woman’s lap.

“None of this is your fault.” Caitlyn soothed, working her fingers through the mess of pink hair. “You hear me?”

Vi continued to sob, tightening her grip around Caitlyn’s center. She cried until her throat was sore. Breathing the woman in, relishing in the way her fingers felt as they gently pressed against her scalp. She whispered soothing words to her. Held her tightly, ran a hand over her bare spine and the scar of a bite that had never quite healed.

When the fire had turned into nothing but a dull flicker of orange, Caitlyn still harboring all the warmth either of them would ever need, Vi turned and stared up at her. There was a fondness in the woman’s stare. A curiosity there that she knew she’d have to atone for when she wouldn’t need to grip so hard to keep herself grounded.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Caitlyn knit her brows, swallowing hard. She brushed a strand of hair from Vi’s red-rimmed eyes. Her hand was trembling. Vi never wanted to move from this spot, from the warm comfort of the rangers lap, her nose pushed into her stomach where she could make sure she was breathing with ease.

“If you ever see me with a certain look in my eyes Cait, I need you to fire more than a warning shot. I need you to shoot to kill. I know you can.”

She opened and closed her mouth, teeth clanging together in a noise that should have been painful. Her hand curled into a fist against Vi’s bare abdomen, nails scratching lightly on marred skin. She huffed, but didn’t’ say a word. She didn’t trust herself to. It wasn’t the time to ramble, and both of them knew it.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Vi clenched her eyes shut, burying her face deeper into Cait’s embrace. “You’re an okay shot.”

Caitlyn leaned her head back, letting out an unsteady sigh, her gaze lingering on the cold hearth, the fire long-dead and the Winchester’s silhouette looming as it sat propped in it’s usual place. “I’m an excellent shot.”

[shut-up-rabert]

Further, let me add that the points of OP are very valid on this regard. I have seen some chigmas justify rape by this logic and saying that men should stop supporting women victims of all this because some of them were justifying Atul's wife.

Like they did not see how many women supported this cause, as much as the men. It's just an excuse to vent out the internalised misogyny.

I've said it multiple times and I'll say it again, the reason that movement for men have never really caught traction in India is simply because that to a lot of sigma males make them about hating women then doing anything for men suffering.

That is made very evident when tweets and insta comments and even news interviews of this kind came up. They hate women, because they do not see women as equals. They are either objects of use or something they have to conquer. Atul Subhash is just an excuse and not a very real person.

The discourse on alimony is bullshit in a very particular way that it clearly disregards women who were homemakers or earned marginally before separation. If she cannot sustain herself, then of course her once husband, who she was dependent on her survival for, should do it. This is a desperate situation afterall.

At the sane time, if the wife earns a satiate or even higher income than him, I do not see the point of him giving alimony. Why would a man have to pay for a woman who is legally unrelated to him and not dependent on him for survival since past or even now? What right us she exercising on income of a man who isn't longer hers?

I personally see this as very embarrassing and demeaning to rely on a man with whom a relationship of love and trust has ended, when you are a well earning woman. Pretty anti feminist from what I see.

Furthermore, let me tell you as a law student, that the guy tweeting about laws favouring women was very right.

Alimony always has to be rational. Supreme Court and various HCs have laid that down several times that you can only have a Reasonable amount as a wife and that a husband cannot be squeezed out of every penny, or even most of his income because surprise surprise, he has the right to his earnings. We do not see that being followed here.

How many laws have you seen about male sexual assault? About male DV victims even though they are 1/3rd of all victims? None I'm sure. Wanna know why?

When the JC Verma Comittee in 2013 came up with more stringent laws regarding rape, they added the recommendation to make rape a gender neutral offence. That recommendation never became anything concrete because feminist groups protested heavily to keep rape gender specific.

There were certain women who rallied to keep men outside the scope of justice in something as heinous as rape, and they were priortised over literal rape victims. So yes, law is pretty gender biased in India.

Western nations recognise that men can be victims to DV and SA, we on the other hand don't.

Also, he is right about laws being misused. In my internships I came across this basic template of DV cases that so many fake cases seem to be using. How do I know those were fake? Because the police investigation following the reports proved that they were without evidence and some actually had counter evidence.

Crime against women are pretty under reported in India. This is again because of what the tweet said; societal pressure on women. A majority of DV cases are not reported (as many as 80%+). It is suspected that as many as 90%+ cases of rape are under reported because women are pressurise, ostracized and labelled impure for being raped or not cohabiting with her husband who is abusive. They want her to keep it hush hush because it all comes down to her virginity and sexuality.

Accept it or not, those numbers speak for themselves and we know why it happens, because a majority of backward and even some "developed" Indians have their minds in gutter when it comes to women.

But but but, if you look at the stats, the number of cases reported of rape and DV are pretty decent. Why is that?

Well, that is because roughly half of them are fake. It can be more than half sometimes, sometimes less, but that is the rough estimate.

Who do you think are making up these numbers when some people cannot even register real cases? Again, that guy is right. Women who are privileged enough to not be judged, or do not care of it due to the intense hatred for their in laws. Many a times their families are in on their malpractices.

These people are the reason so many innocent men and their families are traumatized for life, and why so many innocent women, especially those who come from upper class/urban families or those considered "modern" are not believed.

That guy is spot on in everything he said.

Finally, lets not put the specifics of the Atul case aside. Nobody should be allowed to be ignorant of Atul case when it comes to this discourse. Because that shows you the limitations of alimony need to be laid, and brings out the reality of the fact that law and courts do in fact prefer women and that this fact is misused to squeeze men at the brink of death and sometimes beyond.

An Indian man recently committed suicide because of a demand of alimony from his wife who wanted to divorce him. But the specifics of the case and the demand of alimony being valid aside, the common reaction of the Indian man has been insane and I wanted to share some of it here. I need feminists here to please read this and spread this around.

For context: dowry is (mostly) a Hindu Indian system in marriage whereby the bride’s family gives a certain amount of material possessions as a “gift” to the bridegroom’s family. In India, even now, marriage is explicitly or implicitly considered “marriage of two families” rather than “marriage of two individuals”. But dowry deaths often result from the in-laws perceiving the dowry to be less or it not existing because the woman is poorer or easy to exploit. In many cases, the in-laws burn the woman or severely abuse her until she commits suicide. There are laws protecting against this, but sometimes many cases aren’t reported, and many do not receive adequate punishments (a similar case with rape)

How do Indian men react to this information? With the idea that Indian laws favour women. How interesting. They believe that a woman can use these laws to ruin any family or man. Besides the whole fake case fallacy, this also shows just how wilfully ignorant or straight up evil these men are.

Moving on to the reactions

Exhibit A:

Here, khap panchayat usually means a certain caste’s “panchayat” (a rural governance body) that is not recognized under Indian law. It continues, in many cases, to protect caste-based discrimination and misogynist practices

You might think these men are just reactionary so it doesn’t matter. But this is unironically how many Indian men think, and it is abundantly clear they act on it or intend to do so

Exhibit B:

“Pooja paath” basically means saying a Hindu prayer everyday with (usually) a small temple in your home. In other words, this man believes men must force their wives to become religious. Because a good Hindu woman would supposedly never fight for her rights

“Kutai” means beating.

The photo is actor Ranbir Kapoor in the Bollywood movie, Animal, which is essentially a misogyny manifesto at this point and highly acclaimed by Indian men despite its extremely low IQ reactionary content

As per the latest reports I could find, 30% of Indian women face domestic violence at the hands of their husbands or in-laws. But there is always an underrepresentation of the facts of rape and domestic violence rates in India. A large part is because much of it goes unreported. I can attest to this as someone who has heard of at least 3 such cases of extreme domestic violence where no action was taken purposefully. Additionally, the last report I remember reading mentioned at least 82% Indian men have raised a hand at their wives. I think that should tell you everything about an actual possible domestic violence rate.

Exhibit C:

The man who still likely has female friends and a girlfriend. Or his liberal sister following his account. Inside group chats and their own circles, we are all aware of how awfully these men talk about women. But on the outside, some trying to appear more friendly to women try giving placating statements like these. This is, as should be obvious, factually incorrect. There is not a single country in this world that favours women in law in a way that they are more privileged than men. Equity as a principle demands that the oppressed be given laws that seem to be privileging them, but in reality are an attempt to put them at least at the same functioning position as the oppressor group. This is basic liberal politics and an average man in India does not even understand this

I don’t have much words anymore. The Indian feminist movement is extremely weak and fragile. It is as liberal and as divided as you can get. We are not equipped to fight with this the way Korean women have been strong enough to. I’m not sure what can save my Indian sisters, but I want more people around the world to at least understand the sheer depravity of Indian men. We have to deal with this dehumanisation on a daily basis, on top of the threat of being raped and mutilated, or burned by our in-laws if we’re married off. There is a reason why Amnesty once called India the worst country to be a woman, despite all the opposition to this mere idea.

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

Debated posting this for a whileee but some friends of mine said i should just go for it, oh boy here i go!! Its regarding lucid 👍

I think its insane that people are calling me the abuser in this situation with lucid, I mean sure i havent explicitly stated everything that happened but i didnt think i would need to? Its my private life and throwing it all over online spaces is weird and feels like im BEGGING for pity, and thats gross! I dont want to do that

However i am not gonna sit here and just be cool with it when people are calling me the abuser. That is so messed up man

Why did i cut off lucid as fast and as harsh as i did? Because they said some extremely manipulative things and it made me reflect on our entire relationship. I told them i needed space initially, and what they instead chose to do was send me over 300 messages begging me to come back, admitting they sent the original message to manipulate me into following their will, called me over and over leaving a voicemail full of sobbing

Thats not giving someone space, its not respecting someone’s wishes when they are hurt and asking to be left alone to think

This wasnt just a one and done sort of situation either. There is many times Lucid has guilted/manipulated me whether on purpose or not to fill their needs. They frequently told me whenever i declined to do something they wanted that “the [name] i know wouldnt do this to me”.

I put aside my own personal feelings so much for them, because i knew they were hurting and they needed help and comfort, i care a lot about others and if someone tells me they need physical affection in order to feel better then of course im gonna do it.

Even if i hate physical touch for personal reasons, why should my personal feelings come before others, right? (I say this sarcastically now, but that was a genuine thought process i had)

I call lucid a groomer because literally everyone in my personal circle calls them that. When we met i was 17 going on 18, they sent me hundreds of dollars in gifts, theyd tell me their trauma, theyd tell me all about themselves. They convinced me it wasnt love bombing so i believed it, still my thoughts were “they gave me so much and are so hurt, i need to give something back”

Again, even if that was not their goal it is still how it affected me

Communication with them was hard, i recognize i couldve done better but communication is very hard for me. Especially if whenever i try the other party either yells at me, starts crying extremely hard in my room, or locks themselves in their room, or says things along the lines of how they shouldve never moved out or been born

I was made to feel bad for speaking to new friends because they would feel threatened by them. Yes sometimes i would have the odd worry if someone was doing something weird, but lucid would take that info and run with it, often times blowing it out of proportion. Saying things like i was scared of them or something

They did that with my personal mental health too, according to my friends theyd often bring up my ptsd in order to control them, weirdly enough for things that are completely unrelated to my ptsd too? I wont go into details on that

They had also driven a large wedge between my closest friends and i, to the point that one of them told me they were unsure if we could even stay friends. Lucid had began to try and separate me from my sister too, stating things like they were extremely paranoid of her and i hanging out alone, insinuating they wanted me to stop being as close as i am with my sister. Which is absurd behavior, especially since lucid knew just how close i am with my sibling.

One of the main reasons i am reacting so strongly negatively towards lucid is because i feel they have lied to me about many things. Ex partners of theirs had reached out to me, sharing some alarming things on them, things that daylin had so clearly told me was the opposite of them.

Its things like that that actually truly bother me, i could be mad about the manipulative behavior and move on, but the lying about core parts of their personality is.. really scary

I worry that i do not truly know who i was living with, and i feel that is understandable concern to have

[ilikekidsshows]

This is related to something mentioned on one of your asks (apologies if you did talk about it and I just didn't understand) but do you think calling Adrien a sexual harasser is comparable to calling Marinette a bad leader in terms of criticizing characters?

--

This is literally what I meant with my big rant on people who use “it's all just bad writing” to sweep aside bigger and bigger problems with the show. We're all used to excusing some level of bad writing from this show, but, like, usually people have a threshold for how much bullshit they're willing to swallow. I could excuse Cat Noir not getting the hint, just like I could excuse Marinette following Adrien everywhere and knowing his schedule (this is the actual equivalent point of comparison). They were quirky about it. Ladynoir was mutually flirty even if Cat Noir was too serious with it sometimes, and Marinette's nonsense was often funny. I mostly treated the stalker/harasser takes as opinions. I could see why people would view the characters that way, but I could see enough outside it to look past it. It was beneath my bullshit threshold.

“Marinette does practically everything wrong on screen but we praise her for things she didn't do so she did everything right actually” is past my bullshit threshold. You can't show the exact opposite of what you mean on screen and then claim something different is going on. Ladybug treats her teammates with different expectations, her rules are situational and conditional, she picks favorites, she keeps valuable information from her teammates, making it harder for them to do their jobs. Her failures directly lead to bad consequences. But, because she cried about it and was instantly forgiven while taking no steps to improve, that means she's actually the greatest superhero and leader ever. Like, that's a big plate full of bullshit and I’m done eating it.

Also, like, we really need to take the level of my personal betrayal into account when it comes to willingness to swallow bullshit. Like, Marinette being a bad leader and a terrible hero wouldn't bother me nearly as much if she wasn't also an abuse apologist. Marinette, when faced with the choice between doing what Adrien's abuser wanted and considering literally anyone else's opinion on what Adrien might need or want, picked the abuser’s opinion. Marinette picked Adrien's abuser over him. Like, if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be near this angry. If Astruc hadn't smugly tweeted about how perfectly this decision ties in with her choice in The Bubbler, retroactively ruining one of my favorite episodes for me, I wouldn't be looking back at all of Marinette's failings and seeing how they led her to that moment. The writers practically invited me to do so. Even fans who still adore the show and Marinette think Marinette turning to abuse apologia makes sense. A lot of Marinette's character flaws lead to her making that choice.

Stalking Adrien > disregard towards Adrien's personhood > not considering what Adrien would want when she makes excuses for Gabriel

Lying/secret-keeping > constantly keeping things from people when the truth makes her uncomfortable or look bad > lies about Gabriel because she thinks it will make Adrien's emotional reaction less volatile

Repeatedly insisting kids are safe with their parents regardless of evidence to the contrary > discounting victims’ testimonies > trusting Gabriel's opinion on how Adrien should be treated

Unequal leadership > treating people as objects to be controlled instead of equals to negotiate with > thinking she even has the right to lie to Adrien about his dad

As you can see, a lot of the patterns of Marinette's flaws lean on attitudes that explain almost too perfectly why Marinette would trust Adrien's confirmed abuser's opinion on things relating to Adrien, even when she sees the sensory deprivation chamber Gabriel put Adrien in. Almost all of the bad writing choices regarding Marinette now connect to one of the worst, if not the worst, moments of the entire series so far. And, because it's all so interconnected and all-encopassing to Marinette's character now that I can't just ignore it. I can't ignore any part of it. The writers are making me question Marinette's integrity all the way back in the first season, because many of her flaws were already established from the start of the series.

In addition to all this, Miraculous functions on Protagonist-Centered Morality, aka, the things the protagonist does are meant to be seen as the morally good thing to do or at least a valid choice even when the consequences are "unexpectedly" bad. Adrien’s “harassment” is never framed as the right way to act, but Marinette’s abuse apologia, disrespect of Adrien’s personhood and abuses of power as team leader are all treated as morally being on the same ground as not doing those things. “Lying to him or telling him the truth will lead to very different consequences with their share of happy and sad moments,” my ass.

Adrien being a sexual harasser, Marinette being a stalker, Marinette being a bad leader and hero and Marinette’s abuse apologia are all bad writing, but not all bad writing is written equally bad, if you catch my drift.

[mwagneto]

i have a lot of things to say but to keep it short moffat's writing so often completely lacks emotional weight, either because he fails to insert it or because he removes it without realising

as an example of the former, both the women in this episode have scenes where the sad music swells and everyone's crying and you're meant to be sad along with them, her mum died, the doctor's leaving, they're sad conceptually but i couldn't help sitting there and thinking... i just don't care about this. you've failed to write characters or scenes i can get emotionally invested in and instead reached for the cheapest tricks available (universally relatable sad concepts such as dying parent or ending friendship) and figured that would be enough to elicit a reaction. this is something he comes back to countless times, which i don't want to dwell on here but once you notice he's doing it, it's everywhere.

as for the latter, take the death of trev. he's a likable guy and watching him slowly dying would be quite sad but my immediate thought wasn't "aw oh no :( " it was that i have seen an unfortunate amount of moffat media and all his doctor who episodes so i am 100% certain that this isn't trev's actual end, that somehow his consciousness is gonna get uploaded to a database and live on, so there's no point being sad for him. and what do you know, like 20 minutes later they confirm i was right, which the doctor and the audience learns at the same time (except the doctor learns he's alive before he even learns he died, so he never even has to mourn). moffat's completely removed any kind of weight regarding the character's lives since he never actually just up and kills anyone so his stakes are impossible to take seriously.

[aalinaaaaaa]

2024 In a Gift Box

Hey, everyone, greetings after another year that has flown by all too quickly! Featuring new friends, a few awards and 400% more holidays (rip my wallet lol), this has been a wild year for me. And that's only half of it.

For some strange reason, my desire to write increases with the hecticness of my life. Much of Obsidian Sapphires' revival/troubleshooting phase occured during the latter part of the year, from October onwards (though I had been tinkering with its plot for some time now). All because I woke up one morning with the solution to a plot hole appearing in my head.

Anyway, preambles aside, here's a few major highlights from my year (in writing terms):

First up, thanks to @druidx for the Year in Review Tag! The premise of the tag is to post one's favourite five or so pieces that they've written throughout the year.

To be truthful, some of Obsidian Sapphires' scenes would make this list only the respective chapters for them aren't completed yet 😅

A Pawn for a Greater Cause — I had a ball writing the starting dialogue, and the prompt gave me a few revelations regarding Petrius' character.

Regrets — This made me cry at 1am, the catharsis was unreal.

To Perpetuate Life — Amazing how almost falling asleep gives me ideas. This piece helped me answer a few questions about Orlaith's backstory, and also gave me extra questions surrounding the lore.

Blue Moon — This feels like a nice deviation from my usual style, it's more dreamy and whimsical. Also, this reminds me to go and work on its second part, lol (because the scope was too big for one piece)

That angsty pining scene — This is not posted as one scene, but rather in splinters because parts of it are dripping in spoilers for Obsidian Sapphires. However, I enjoyed writing this scene too much not to post some snippets.

WIP Roundup

First things first, an ode to the WIPs that I've put on ice to focus on Obsidian Sapphires.

The Lady's Lament, a brief idea born out of a plot bunny inspired by a plot on Wattpad. The idea sprouted in April 2023, but it lives on in the form of worldbuilding ideas for South Arobyre.

And then also, Flamebearer, one of my oldest wips but also arguably my most complex one. It's a story of grief, religious dilemmas and romantic/familial drama, all under the backdrop of sociopolitical turmoil. It's going to take a lot of research and planning, that much I know. Hence why I want it to be as perfect as I can make it, when I have the knowledge and writing practice to do it justice.

In April this year, one of my Flash Friday pieces (Duel to the Debt) sowed the seeds for another piece (An Endless Round) in May, and later on Soulswapped derived from it. I intended it to be a short enough story, a novella of sorts that would be woven into a larger compilation, but it's become its own thing. Already, I think it may get a sequel. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Obsidian Sapphires

So its progress this year has been skewed. Like, 'a lot of its progress spawned in October or thereafter' sort of skewed. I woke up one morning and the cogs for the rigmarole surrounding what is currently Chapter 2 all clicked, to the point I yanked out my laptop and starting writing notes until I had to run for class.

Since then, I've had a bunch of ideas, but currently I'm deliberating on the story I wish to tell. It seems more cohesive and easier to plan for when I cut Eshani's perspective out, but at the same time, cutting her perspective would cut or at least hide much of her character development. That and I love her to bits, and she may/may not be a readers' favourite also.

In terms of actual tangible content, bits of the angsty pining scene got posted, as did sections of the first and second chapters. It even came with a few memes, lolololol. (And there's more memes sitting in my gallery/Scrivener notes, this story's quite memeable honestly).

The antagonists got their time of day, however brief so far. And not just the lead meshai, but also the septet of folks angry at the meshai and his fellows.

And this gets onto something that has existed as tags and headings and brief little mentions. A collection of pieces, leading up to answers surrounding some major events in the history of the country Obsidian Sapphires is set in.

That would be This Blood-Stained Charcuterie. It is going to be the anthology of short stories and one-off pieces surrounding Morilast's High Councillors (and indeed, the Court's other denizens and its namesake himself!). A lot of juicy details surrounding certain characters' backstories are going to feature here, I can't wait to get into it. (It's also my excuse to figure out all the bits of lore and convoluted ancestries [who murdered who], lol).

When I finish with Obsidian Sapphires, that is about when I'll start releasing this one. The title could change upon me getting to the end, but we'll see.

Flash Fiction Friday

I started doing these pieces in late 2023, so it's been about a year since my first one (Contemplations). In all, I've completed a total of 28 pieces so far :D

The masterlist came about in early January, because I was inspired by other people who had masterlists for their pieces. It's very satisfying to see it develop from a few pieces to what it is today, a decent few pieces.

Whatsmore, it reflects the trends in my writing, such as the wips that the prompts inspired me for, and what periods I was consistently doing it week-by-week and when the major gaps were.

For whatever reason, I have a tendency of getting inspiration for these at about midnight or so. Even if I get a handful of basic notes written down, it may not still be until late in the night that I can get a piece together, lol.

To commemorate the end of the year, I've started a series known as Flash Friday Flashbacks to celebrate what I've made and show off behind-the-scenes when it comes to notes, context, deleted scenes, etc.

There are a few pieces left in this year's version, which will be reblogged close to the end of the month (to celebrate the New Year).

Next year's edition is going to feature the December 2024 pieces in addition to all the 2025 stuff (which hopefully is a lot). There will also be a 2025-specific masterlist too.

Writeblr Community Events

What is writeblr without its community? It's beyond a pleasure to be part of a group so lovely and talented, everyone has something amazing going for them.

As part of this, there are some people here who create events, discords and/or other initiatives that bring people together. Shoutout to everyone who has done/is doing something along these lines ❤️

Special mentions in my case go to:

@flashfictionfridayofficial for taking the prompt submissions, making the posts, and reblogging everyone's stories (with fantastic comments) every week

@writeblrsummerfest for making a lovely event spanning the entirety of August, encompassed by a well-organised theme and all

@bardic-tales for establishing the @creators-club and doing all the various types of ask/tag games to foster interaction and support

@agirlandherquill for her first ever Writemas! These prompts are impeccable and it was really fun looking forward to the next day's prompts! I wish I could've participated more, but alas, that's how the cookie crumbles. (Also, high five, we're in the same timezone, woo!)

Plans for 2025

Continue with Obsidian Sapphires — I'd love to get the draft finished

Doing as many of the Flash Friday prompts as well

Reblogging people's posts more and hopefully improving at reaching out to people

Learning to draw is something that I've always wanted to do, but I want to get focused with it this year. It would be cool to put my characters in visual form

Getting a handle on the lore and background information needed to compile This Blood-Stained Charcuterie

The Tags

That brings this post to its natural course, the end. Merry Christmas everyone ❤️🎄

Giving a Year in Review Tag to everyone who is on at least one of my taglists (ask, comment, etc to be added/subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @original-writing @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51 @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @ceph-the-ghost-writer @flock-from-the-void @mattresses-and-macaroni @limitlesswritingvoid

...As well as all these people I'm tagging here: @winterandwords @finickyfelix @wintherlywords @anyablackwood @cherrybombfangirlwrites @kaylinalexanderbooks @angelfevr @thatndginger @thepeculiarbird @ominous-feychild @oh-no-another-idea @space-writes @veneritia @the-golden-comet @jev-urisk @cljordan-imperium @an-indecisive-nerd @mauannacreates @laureleavess @theeccentricraven @paintedbutton (@/bardic-tales, @/agirlandherquill, both of you are tagged for this too)

...And most importantly, here's a tag for everyone in the audience!

Here's to a hopeful 2025! 🎉

[fynnlink]

First of all: Thanks and Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays to you too.

My first response was to your framing it as not having any answers to the points you brought not that said answers maybe weren't satisfying or "enough".

And I in no way mean to argue against your "being pissed off" since it's a valid opinion especially if you like Aaravos a lot. So if I in turn offended you I apologise; I merely mean to discuss and engage with the media.

Now on to the important stuff:

I agree wholeheartedly with the point regarding "external" material (outside of the main series) but I think one of the issues TDP suffers from most is too much lore/story having to be squeezed into short, 9 episode seasons which is a shame as the world building is my favourite part of the series. Thus the need to use other ways to communicate parts of the story or lore. (The image of Ziard for example and the monologue/story attached to it are freely accessible but the point stands)

Having certain expectations even "high" ones is of course more than justified and feeling upset/unsatisfied when those expectations aren't met is too. There are quite a few plotlines which have developed in a specific way or not developed at all, that have disappointed me after waiting for answers since 2018. (Damn I've started this series at 14. That hiatus, seriously, never again please)

When exactly did Zubeia say that? Or are you referring to her lines in S4 E4? Because I wouldn't call the results of Aaravos' actions/involvement before his imprisonment Revolutions but rather Civil Wars / Unrest and I think her line "A Startouch Elf, one of the Great Ones, respected and loved by all until we discovered long-hidden treachery." is more of general statement than referring to her and the Archdragons. And the crime he was punished for was being responsible for Queen Aditi's disappearance (though no one knew what exactly happened to her until Aaravos told Khessa and then Janai found out) thus causing the tensions between the Elves and Dragons to boil over and also depriving the Archdragons from ending their succession conflict peacefully. (I'm hoping that if we get Act 3 we finally actually learn about the Orphan Queen.)

As to the severity of Aaravos' punishment it is quite literally the only punishment pissible as murdering him would've just had him return at a later point and imprisoning him in any other way would be nigh important due to his immense power both in terms of magical ability and persuasiveness manipulation.

I wholehearted agree that the involvement of both the Orphan Queen and the Jailer is less than adequately explained. Like you said it makes little sense to 1) believe a random human who at the time was probably young too and 2) to entrust the entire imprisonment process to another human one who was supposedly very mysterious. It would also be interesting to know whether or not the Jailer used Dark Magic or just other means like a primal stone or inanimate objects like gemstomes.

I don't think Aaravos had enough power (as in political influence not magic) to do anything against Sol Regem overtly. As even back then Anak Arao was THE dragon prince (Aaravos calls him that in S6 E9) so one of his parents was mostly likely the current regent during Leola's childhood 2000+ years ago. And back then Aaravos seemed to live a humble(r) life away from the heavens on earth with Leola and had no sway on the council. (Though it is interesting that The Merciful One apparently cared enough about Aaravos to comfort him above the Sea of the Castout). The entire story isn't resolved but Aaravos playing the long game was him drawing it out. He, at least in part, is responsible for humans learning dark magic and thus for Ziard "blinding" Sol Regem, Aaravos was also probably involved in whatever caused Sol Regem to get angry enough to indirectly kill Aithne Solaire as Aaravos even knew about it. This to me at least is reminiscent of Aaravos' incredible quote about surviving such a terrible wound (losing a loved one) and thus suffering forever. Aaravos didn't directly attack or kill Sol Regem to prolong the Archdragon's suffering and since he knew how to easily manipulate and use Sol Regem to further his own plans. Never throw away something that could one day prove useful. It took barely any work to get Karim to do exactly what Aaravos wanted and then to use Pharos to direct Sol Regem against Katolis, Viren and Aaravos' imprisonment. (A bonus benefit which in my opinion Aaravos also planned for is that this further turned Claudia on this "dark path" when she was just beginning to question/regret it)

Personally I don't think Aaravos' line was supposed to single out Zubeia from the other Archdragons as the only/main one to BETRAY Aaravos. Both the Archdragons and Aaravos call what happened back then a betrayal (Rex Igneous' line about "Not long enough, Betrayer") the Archdragons for Aaravos' manipulations and Aaravos for the imprisonment. It's simply that she's the only one who was involved when he says it and he's addressing her and not the others in the beginning of his conversations via posessed Callum. And Zubeia has proven she's ready and willing to fight when necessary (the standoff with Rex Igneous, her fighting against the corrupted Banthers in the great bookery and her attacking Aaravos in the finale)

When does he differentiate between Zubeia and the other Archdragons, he has the lines about Zubeia being "ravishing" but back when he tells Viren about Avizandum imprisoning him him only mentioning Avizandum is, in my opinion, just the series trying to keep it simple and even in a watsonian sense Viren proved just moments prior that the names of the Archdragons aren't known to him. And he does seem to enjoy her suffering by making her face Avizandum in the finale.

Regarding the Staff of Ziard that's why I amended that Aaravos had taken the Staff not necessarily that he had stolen it.

I think the Starscraper might function as the Star Nexus and thus draws in a semi-religious following and it's made up of other Elves since the Startouch Elves "don't intervene" which is probably what inspired that part of the Celestial Elves' culture. As to why it's Skywing Elves, earlier it was said that only winged Skywing Elves live there before they changed it. Again in lore this change probably happened because some elves at the Starscraper were born without wings. But yes it is something they could expand upon hopefully if Astrid sticks around the Dragang.

There was at least one more Startouch Elf around during the division of Xadia and expulsion of the humans to the east. (Visible in the opening of S1 E1 next to what is either Queen Aditi or her daughter. And they look distinctively different from Aaravos)

100% agree. Elarion has fascinated me since the poem was first translated and has only grown more and more interesting since. It's probably too big/important and needs to be the main focus. I think Claudia's final scene might be near Elarion since it's the same place as the S4-S7 intro sequence and the mountain range and sky full of stars and nebulae looks like the one from the scene of Aaravos crying over (creating it) the Sea of the Castout.

I don't view it as the finale of the series just of the act and season. Both the way it ended and the fandom's reaction is exactly the same as when Miraculous' fifth season ended. If you view it as a Series Finale not a Season Finale then yes it leaves certain storylines and plotpoints unresolved but whether they continue the story via more seasons or novels, etc the story isn't over.

Which is not to say you're not allowed to disagree. Art and Stories and their interpretation are up to any who behold them. It's just a matter of viewing it as an end for now rather then a complete end. And since Act 3 has been planned for a while I don't judge the story without also factoring in the limitations placed upon it by Netflix at first only paying for the first three and then the next four seasons. Of course a story made for ten seasons limited to seven can't resolve all plotlines. It was always meant to have an open end to entice viewers to want the final instalment.

Ultimately I hope/want Act 3 to focus on explaining the history more in depth especially from 2000 years ago at the founding of Elarion to 300 years ago with Avizandum's reign, a more in depth look at the Startouch Elves and the Star Arcanum and 'everything' related to it (for example Stella having the Star Arcanum??) and most importantly, to me, the origin of Dark Magic and further explaining it's specifics.

All three could be tied to Elarion as the main geological focus (along with Evrkynd probably, which could even draw parallels with the first human city built in opposition/definace to "Xadia" and the latest built in cooperation and peace. Once again I'm also glad Sol Regem is just bones now because that prick deserved what he got.) as all paths converge either in Elarion or at the Sea of the Castout.

- - - - -

Unrelated Sidenote but I think Aaravos will ultimately be "defeated" by, like most other parents in the series, sacrificing himself to restore/resurrect Leola. 1) He wanted to sacrifice his life for her in the beginning but wasn't allowed/able to do so and 2) it would even be akin to a final victory for him in undoing the Cosmic Orders' plans. And it would once again call back to the series' message of Love triumphing over Hate and Vengeance and the theme of Parents giving their future for their children. And this isn't as unlikely anymore since the series has begun to make certain deaths less permanent i. e. Harrow = Pip

Narrative of Love not Strength as Aaravos can't be defeated by force alone but by appealing to his love for his daughter(s).

Depending on when this happens and whether or not the Cosmic Order feels threatened or disrespected by it it could even put the Dragang (who would probably not turn against Leola) and the C.O. at odds and lead to a resolution in which there's justice for the C.O.'s wrongful deed(s) and not Revenge the way Aaravos dies it right now.

Also it would be similar to Elves and Humans working together to return Zym and bring peace and would be poetic to now also "repay" Leola's kindness and her friendship to both peoples in the past.

wait a fucking minute...

We still don't know why and how Aaravos was imprisoned.

And what exactly his beef with Sol Reg and the other archdragons was about.

And what his relationship was with the Orphan Queen.

Oh yeah! And also his relationship with Ziard... and city of Elarion...

DID THEY JUST KILL HIM WITH ABSOLUTELY NO EXPLANATION?

I'M SO PISSED OFF

[currentfandomkick]

Skulker, unwilling witness to a halfa custody battle

Masterlist Here

Hi. It took forever to get back to this as work upped my hours and i was exhausted. Enjoy the crazy building for my personal blend of how the Ghost Zone works with the DC afterlives (minor spoiler: if afterlife divinities don’t want anything to do with you, they just. Make you the Ghost Zone’s problem)

—

Skulker couldn’t help but wonder when the issues regarding the Unshed Whelp would end.

Sampson grew more nervous as the doctors and nurses prodded him.

“And are you sure this isn’t further down his reincarnation line, just a second life not a fifth or one in the hundreds?” Amira repeated.

childHurt?Sampson inquired, still holding her ghostling.

“Now, its just to know how bad the hurt is—further back a soul goes, worse the cause of regression and higher on the priorities list we get for IRFP.”

At Sampson’s ? Skulker clarified.

“Infinite Realms Fright Protections, they specialize in younger ghosts, disabled ghosts, and liminals like you and specialty cases like the whelp.”

Sampson frowned.

“Think a lot of healers, protectors and parents working together to help uh,” he switched gears as Sampson moved to her full height. “think your zookeepers but they listen to you.”

That settled her down at least. For the moment.

“Well, it looks like maybe a second life, which may be why he’s been difficult to skin on top of his halfa status. Liminals tend to flee too—honestly they need a good scrub now and then to take out the dirty layers—Speaking of which, Sampson, are you still using the scrubs to help with the excess aggression?”

Sampson nodded, offering her arm for inspection if needed.

“Great, we may need something like that or a bit stronger to help your son lessen his reversions.”

“But not stop,” Skulker noted.

“Until we got the stressor down and managed? Not a way to do that even if he’s skinned properly. And liminals tend to take to attempts poorly—Carbon side has Opinions on it and the Ecto is all for it. Best not to confuse the poor dear more than he is.”

Sampson shuffled in place.

The whelp kept hiding in her fur, tail flailing or flaring out with his other fins on occasion.

“Now, is he still in contact with any relatives from any other lifetimes of his?” The doctor asked while checking the whelps’s scales, grabbing a sample from what flaked off.

“Not that myself or Sampson have identified,” he translated.

“Well, give us a bit and we can have this,” the doctor gestured to the plastic container with the scale samples. “Run for a any familial matches in our systems and see if any of the other lives can give some insight into his actions.”

“He did die young both times,” Skulker admitted, examining the merform more now. There are countless subspecies and variations for adult merfolk, but the whelp had an infant’s face, build and lack of a sternum and proper elbows.

He… he had a feeling that if the whelp’s death was not accidental, and the perpetrator was alive… it would not be impossible to let the more wrathful, rage riddled protector spirits have a go at them. Especially if he just. Pointed them in the right direction.

The nurse shrugged. “Could have been an auto-reincarnation.”

Sampson grumbled something at that.

The whelp stayed quiet and rested as they waited for the results.

With any luck, he’d have relatives in the Realms rather than the End Points… The rulers there were vexing on a good day without stakes.

With stakes they made it a point to be as insufferable as possible.

“Okay, there’s only one direct match in the Realms, a former king of something or other named Deildi of Atlantis… I think? He’s using his grave name, rather than his death name.”

Skulker looked to the ceiling, as Sampson continued to soothe the fussy whelp.

He would demand pelting rights for this—Sampson would hardly oppose the treatment once the whelp’s stress lowered. Just in sections on his primary ghost form, nothing deeper than the surface layer… probably a good idea to see if he has ecto-preferences outside of the Far Frozen’s for his recovery…

A royal. Likely assassinated young enough to qualify for automatic reincarnation, sans cultural attachments.

…he’d offer the whelp a shark-like blob ghost as a support. If his… semi-stray dog got along with them…

Or make the pain that is Cujo choose the small shark-blob for the whelp.

Sampson would accept it easily enough as additional protection from the overeager ectopus.

babyOldfamilyHelp?

“Not his old parents, relatives to them, a ‘leader’ it seems.”

Sampson’s scrunched face told them all her opinion loud and clear.

“Its not uncommon for them to watch over the living, hopefully he can be helpful,” one of the newer nurses suggested while trying (and failing) to convince Sampson to The whelp in a tank.

—

Deildi threw open the door to examine his descendant. One not brought to him upon death like the others.

Silvers and blacks made up the bulk of the tail and fins, while the babe’s human flesh handled the rest of his coloring. Craftsmanship and strength made sense for one of his kin. Artistic leaning probably, and if the boy had time to grow into it, he didnt doubt a knack for magic with shifting states of matter would have been on the table. Death draping its colors on him made equal sense. Perhaps it was because his descendants’ strength lay in his spirit rather than body that even death didnt truly beat this one the second time around?

“And he chose Danny Phantom?” Deildi repeated, eyeing the merchild warily. Why the guppy would choose to emphasize his death as a spirit, he couldn’t fathom.

Even moreso, how the child destined to be such a successful sorcerer king died as an infant was beyond him. Were his abilities sealed before? Had that blasted portal unlocked them?

“Yes,” the sentient automaton answered. “The whelp enjoys word play.”

Why the merchild chose a liminal gorilla as his ghost parent further perplexed him—however he was growing to understand the babe as a living paradox.

ChildmineSafewithME and helpExplainillnessInquiryslewed off the gorilla to an alarming degree.

“I tend to watch them after their first sparks of magic emerge,” he began absently. “He’s still got a strong soul for sorcery when he’s ready.”

“That doesn’t explain the soul regression, sir,” the medic interrupted.

Deildi slowly exhaled at the interruption. “And this is merely his second life. All reversions will end with him in this form. He is likely seeking safety and comfort given the uphill battle this life has proven.”

He waved a finger before the guppy, and smiled as the child chased the shimmers in his wake.

“Uphill battle?” The medic prompted uncertainly.

Deildi pressed his lips together as his jaw tightened recalling how often his young descendant nearly became another automatic reincarnation.

“He has almost died around saturnalia every year. Often during harvest festivals as well. This red coated figure? Causes far too many and too involved arguments. He almost died last year when the noodles he tried to make from scratch hit ecto-infused water and spouted their own sentience and desire to end him. I presume his parents haven’t dismantled their fortress’ traps and they’ve begun to spring on him, correct?”

The automaton nodded mutely, eyeing his descendant more than he’d prefer.

The gorilla grumped UpsetAngry and ChildRefusesToStayHere/Home wafting off her cloyingly.

Deildi wrinkled his nose at sensation.

“If permitted, I can see to it he is given a proper childhood as a Neverborn or act as a foster parent for his times in the Realms. Naturally his door will be moved to my palace and accommodations made for his chosen parent.”

The medics shared a look with the automaton and the gorilla.

“He’s a halfa,” one medic began.

Deildi hated how only the slur survived in texts outside his kingdom. So many of his subjects began as Veilborn and only the Purger’s propaganda and slander remained of their origin.

“the situation is…” the other medic trailed off, staring at the automaton.

“Delicate,” the metal man stated. “He refuses a proper pelting.”

Deildi hummed, gently offering his fingers for the boy to nip at while running a more clawed hand gently against a spotty patch long since ready for peeling.

The babe giggled while he did.

“Scale sheddings are more effective for ecto-carbons,” Deildi murmured, grntly scrapping the excess, old and illness-inducing ecto off the babe where the child allowed.

The automaton scowled at him.

“I predate Pariah’s Purge. Veilborn and their care was as common as greens and blues back then.”

The medics looked at him with newfound interest.

“The records were kept at the Far Frozen. I believe they still have untouched copies if you need more information… has he been given a proper memorial yet? I haven’t seen anything in the times I checked in.”

The silence was damning.

“… do inform the mortals aware of his condition that a memorial will help anchor him to his current death form, not leave him listless to his prior form.”

The automaton nodded along.

The gorilla was lost for a proper response.

—

Okay was in drafts for forever (Deildi was not having it until I worked out the ilness or let him take over treatments so #*%@) but done. Also not nearly as many former atlantian kings as i figured there would be, so congrats you get an OC.

Let me know if you want me to pick this series back up, and if you want videos of mer danny to be leaked (possibly with Deildi hovering on the night cameras and playing with him as a more semi-transparent DC ghost (man is not here for an obsession he’s here to Step Up on parenting this apparent descendant that continues to get the short end of the stick. possibly co-mentor with Frostbite as Magic kicks in)

Tags: @skulld3mort-1fan @theizzyof3malec3 @brattysleepyreader @sebas-nights @elidaweirdotaku0520 @bianca-hooks123 @the-autistic-spider @laurcad123 @just-lurking-here-dont-mind-meh @atinygracie @stars-obsession-pit t @wanderwithwings @aibhilin-atibeka @lovelesslittleloser @shadowkatt99 @pastelpigeonparadise @gloriousporpois

[tackykachowch]

You know, I thought about it for a while, and it's literally so jarring that Jinx's mental illness is treated as a plot device in s2. And because of this people in the fandom try to find a reasonable explanation for this change, because writers couldn't possibly do something stupid, right? "Jinx isn't in such a hostile environment anymore so that's why she's more stable", "She's not conflicted about being Powder or Jinx anymore so she's better now", "Silco forgave Jinx and called her perfect so her hallucinations disappeared", "Isha brought her inner piece" etc etc. Like. Mental illnesses don't work like that. At all. And the fact that writers just let this bunch of crap stay in the script and be turned into the actual season of a television show just baffles me. It's not like I'm genuinely shocked - I'm really not, I know that society doesn't care about mentally ill people at all, but to do this in such a way.....it's just plain insulting and idiotic. Like, imagine if Viktor's leg suddenly got better in season 1 act2 because he's not an assistant anymore, he's closer to realizing his dream than ever before, and he has a best friend/lab partner who always supports him. What? Viewers are not stupid? Physical disabilities don't work like that, you say? *Then what is the damn difference*. Mental disabilities are the same as physical, and the fact that they're generally unseen by other people doesn't change anything. They should be treated with the same level of responsibility, seriousness and respect as any other physical disability/disease. Treating this topic any other way is insulting to the mentally ill people in general, it's insulting to viewers' intelligence, and it's insulting to the very nature of human experience. If you can't be bothered to try and understand, to emphasize with people who are going through the problems you want to touch on in your work, why would you want to even create such a work? For what purpose? To stroke your own ego or try to look more "noble" or something? No matter how you look at it, this situation is disgusting. I understand that people in the fandom want to approach Jinx's mental state change in s2 in good faith, but I personally won't take any of it. This is an extremely harmful thing to do, whether intentionally or not. But the thing is, they didn't have the right to be unintentional with this, because they're writers on a big project with a massive audience. If you're willing to take a chance with such a work, well....I won't have you in a high regard, to put it lightly.