#Again ty for the ask Void and the well wishes!

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 1)

Finally! Finished the first chapter! It’s also my first official g/t story. Enjoy!

Word count: 3,500

CW: Mentions of Death, Fear, and panic attacks (they don’t actually happen)

1- Nathan 

Don’t you wish that sometimes you could reverse time? Whether you never wished to be born, or if you just did something really embarrassing. You want to know what I would do if I could reverse time? Make sure my parents did move away from our little home in the country sooner. We all had loved it. With no loud noises and no people to tell us that we were weird. Just me, my parents, and the most beautiful view of coniferous trees ever. And that was stripped away from us. 

We had heard nothing but the dreadful screams and the cackling in the back of our minds. The only glimpse we had of out new home was the wicked smiles of our torturers. The only thing we were allowed to see were bodies being ripped in half. No longer the sight of the maple leaves turning orange during the fall, no longer the sight of a sunset. Nothing. Nothing but a red, bloody void.

Terrible right? How could I describe something you don’t even know? It’s not that hard. Just two words. Human trafficking. Where humans are taken away from our home and forced to make entertainment for beings with no hearts. They didn’t care what happened to anything that was below them in the food chain. That didn’t care how a “lesser” being felt. Because who would want to know about how a seven year old cried about seeing their own dad being ripped in half, huh? Who cared about how many times you’ve broken someone else’s bones? Who cared how much you traumatized a kid who used to have their whole life ahead of them? 

That was how I lived more than half of my life. Fearing everything that could and would hurt me. Scared of what would happen the very next day. Scared of the unknown truth that was my life. Even if my mom had kept reassuring me that everything would be okay. Even when my dad was long out of our lives, but never forgotten. Even when she was on the brink of death herself… 

Then, there was a glimmer of hope. And all I remembered were gun shots and my mom screaming and dragging me underneath something. Hidden away from the people that were trying to help us. After my mom had finally realized that those people were there to help, she asked me to go out and get them to come help her. I remembered seeing her bloody leg. I remember her tying a piece of string around to stop it from bleeding anymore. And I remember being scared to go. What was I supposed to do? I was just subdued to years and years of torture and all of a sudden I’m supposed to trust the same people that hurt us? 

The only reason I gathered up enough courage was because my mother had practically begged me and passed out afterward. I couldn’t leave her there to die like dad. And so what I thought would be our imminent doom yet again, was our hope for surviving. The people here helped get my mom to get better, and fixed up my multiple broken bones and wounds. They sent me to a program that taught basic skills before I could be placed into an actual school. Everything was going great. I had my life ahead of me. Then, the papers forcing my mom and I to transfer to a co-ed city arrived. 

Our little utopia was crumbling to the ground. Living in the same city as giants? Hah. No. I’d rather die than be around those monsters again. They’d just hurt us. And for some odd reason, my mom was smiling. Genuinely smiling even after reading the notice. She never looked mad, upset, or even the slightest bit scared. She smiled and cheered that we could have a normal life again. That I could have the childhood I never had. 

I admit, I believed this could be a good change as well. I could be around other people my age. Maybe make friends? And so began this great journey of trying to act like nothing had happened. Like my mom and I weren’t just subdued to torture for the last 8 years. No one would know, and no one would care. 

Today stated off as any normal day. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the first day I was cleared to go to an actual school. After moving away from the hospital and coming over to the co-ed city, I kind of thought this was a good idea. I mean, who’s to say that it’ll tun out like it did in the country? For all I know I won’t even have to go to school with giants. I could just go to an all human school or something. That’s what I was hoping for on the way here. But, now that my mom and I have been here for nearly a month, I’ve learned that wasn’t the case. 

I was going to school with humans and giants. Whether I liked it or not. 

My mom tried to reassure me, saying that there were more rules set up in a city rather than in the country. That wasn’t what I was worried about though. I was more worried about what would happen if I was alone. This was a completely new place that I’ve never been to. Who know’s what could happen? 

The bus came to pick me up and some other younger kids who were laughing at something on their phones. The atmosphere had completely changed. It was thick, and heavy. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning? Or maybe it was because everyone dreaded the day? I mean it was Monday after all. Whatever was making them look so drained and tired was obviously not good. Making my nerves rise like crazy. 

I sat down near the front of the bus, trying to avoid the other kids my age. There was just something about them that had me on edge. It’s not like I didn’t want to to make friends, it’s just that I had to be careful who I place my trust in. Especially when I was going to a school made for people much, much bigger than me. 

It was hard to keep my mind off of the fact that I would be walking along with giants again, but unless I wanted to undergo a panic attack on my first day, it was best to just ignore everyone and everything. At least until I could work up the courage to walk without my legs losing balance or without running away. Which will probably happen today. I’d be surprised if I could go three minutes without freaking out. 

The school was around a ten minute drive from my house. Plenty of time to really set into perspective where I was going. I checked my phone to make sure I would be able to call my mom in case something went wrong, made sure I had my schedule, and soon enough we were all exiting the bus. 

In front of me was a huge building. This was the human entrance to the school. Giants was on the other side so I at least didn’t have to deal with that until later on in the day. Hopefully. Compared to what I was guessing the giant side of the school, the human side was extremely tiny. Overall, the place looked very nice. They had well-kept flowerbeds on the outside with a couple benches outside for I guess when students came here before the doors open. 

When you walked into the building, there were lockers lining the walls up until you reached the doorways to the main classes. People were crowding all over, trying to meet up with their friends or just trying to get to class early. It all felt too much for me. I wasn’t used to being around so many people at once and it was really overwhelming me. Meanwhile, I still needed to figure out where the heck my class was in this mess. Somewhere in this hallway hopefully… 

After wandering around aimlessly for ten minutes, I finally found the classroom, thankfully in the human school. The only problem was that I had all eyes on me. I was not used to this however. One or two people? I could deal with. But with and entire classroom full? It just made my nerves go all over the place, and of course I didn’t show it at all. Staring at the tiled ground and finding the one empty seat on the far left of the class between two girls who both glared at me like I just interrupted their very important conversation about how their makeup looked. I mean I did, but I was too afraid to apologize now that they already hated me. 

Overall, the first half of the day was okay. No one talked to me and I didn’t talk to anyone. Mostly because there were so many whispers and mentions of me that had me thinking they were already talking bad about me. Why was all the attention on me? I was probably the most uninteresting person ever. I even heard someone say that I wasn’t going to last a week in this place, which seemed right if I were being honest. 

The bell rang, releasing us for lunch, and I just followed the crowd that started flooding the halls. I wasn’t hungry. At all. It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going in this huge place. The human side of the school looked really small compared the the giants’ side, but it’s really big inside. 

The cafeteria was shared between both giants and humans. Why was I barely finding this out now? I had zero idea. It would have been helpful to know that beforehand so I could mentally prepare myself, but now I didn’t have anymore time and I was currently standing right in the middle of the floor searching for a place to hide. 

Of course there were human tables nearby, but I had no idea which group of people sat at which. The last thing I needed was for someone to get mad at me over a table. That would be pointless. So, here I was. Definitely not on the human side of the cafeteria, and instead standing right in the middle of a walkway for giants. Can I add on that? I was too frozen in fear to move. 

Sure, there were other humans walking along where I was, but they could actually move. I had no idea how they could when people that were as tall as skyscrapers, some even taller, were walking along with them. I don’t get it! Even more odd, humans were going around the giant tables and climbing into something that took them on top. 

So this place did have commodities for humans. There apparently were elevators that took you on top of the giant table to human tables on top. That only took me forever to figure out at that moment, but that’s what was going on. So everyone was friends here or something? Well, maybe not everyone since there were other humans sitting on their side.

After taking a good five minutes to gather up my thoughts, I finally was able to walk away from being in the middle of the floor and in a corner table where no one was currently sitting. The farthest table away from the giants. And it seemed like no one was going to sit here anyways. I can’t believe that I didn’t run away. I mean I was just frozen in fear, but that doesn’t count! 

  Lunch was loud. Mainly because the giant’s voices were so loud and I hated the fact that no one minded but me. These other kids have been here for who knows how long so I was guessing they were just used to it. It made sense in my head. 

Th day went on. The second half of my school day was mainly in the giant’s side, which I dreaded, but they made a separate hall to get there. One that avoided being stepped on I was guessing. The classrooms here were huge of course, and they had humans on a separate desk all together. To avoid what you may ask? I had zero idea. 

It was going alright until my last period. I had successfully avoided giants all day (To some extent) and then my last period came tumbling down right on top of me. First, there was no desk in the back that had the human-sized ones. Second, humans were taking one of those elevators like at lunch to get on top of a giant’s desk acting like they weren’t just a hundred feet up in the air. Third, but last, the teacher was approaching me. Did I mention she was a giant? 

“You must be Nathan! Nice to meet you!” She had greeted, crouching down and holding her hand out. Did… did she want me to shake her hand. Er… finger? Oh heck. My heart was beating fast as I stared at her outstretched hand. Um. What do I do? And suddenly those same eyes came onto me. Peering right through my body. Again, why did all the attention come to me? 

I reached out a shaky hand, trying to keep my legs from buckling underneath me, and lightly placed my hand over the tip of her finger as she gently shook it. I gulped, expecting for there to be more, but she smiled softly and sadly at me. What did that mean? Should I be worried? What class was this even? I just read on my paper to come to room 135. 

“Hm… now who doesn’t have a human partner?” She turned her head up, looking for any raised hands. I couldn’t see anything. Heck, I could barely even look up. There were still a couple eyes on me, and I couldn’t help but feel the acid from my stomach leave a nasty taste in my mouth. Just a couple more minutes and you can go home. I had to remind myself before the teacher smiled and told me to follow her. I did, just a little ways from her, trying to ignore the stares that were practically stabbing me in the back. 

I couldn’t help but hear whispers again. Where was she taking me. Wait let me rephrase that. Who was she taking me to? By the looks of it giants and humans were randomly paired up for some odd reason. On my way to whoever’s desk I was going to, I couldn’t help but dread this. What if I fell off? What if the person who’s desk I’ll be on forgets I’m there and knocks me off? What if they don’t like me? Questions swirled in my head, but I knew I wasn’t going to get answers right now. 

The teacher stopped, turned down to me and smiled. Was she waiting for me to do something? Oh wait. Elevator, right. Multiple sets of eyes were on me once again as the elevator slowly went up. Nerves built up inside of me. Anxiety. Heck, maybe even a panic attack. I felt dizzy, but I would survive. There was only thirty minutes left of the day. I could survive. Yeah. 

The elevator stopped, opening a little gate to the open desk with a huge journal on it. I gulped, taking my first steps. The first thing I noticed about this guy was that he didn’t look as welcoming as the teacher. He gave me “Quiet Kid” vibes. Not to mention that he was dressed in mostly black. 

Replayed in my mind was the sick smirk and laughter coming from my captors. If this guy got ahold of me I would be dead. I was so sure of it that I tasted the vile in my mouth and my knees nearly buckling right from underneath me. But, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was wearing a nervous look on his face instead of the usual sickening grin. 

“Ryker, Nathan. Nathan, Ryker. I’m sure you’ll both get along well.” The teacher cheered, heading to the front of the class and taking role call. Leaving all alone with someone who looked like he would rip my body in half. Just great. As soon as I had stepped out of the elevator, I was once again frozen with fear. This time at a much closer radius than I would have preferred. Because now I was definitely in arms reach of him. Not something that I’d like to be near.  

My eyes fell to the ground as tears threatened my eyes. Too bad I wasn’t going to let anyone see them. I slowly walked over to the human desk, seeing that it was father from the edge than I had thought and there were railings so it would pretty hard to fall off without actually trying. 

The teacher smiled while standing up from her chair, “Welcome to Human and Giant Interactions for those of you who don’t know. I’m Mrs. Kay. Some people are taking this class willingly, or they just need the credit to graduate, but I would still love to get everyone involved and take this class seriously.” She had explained. What. I don’t remember putting this on the extracurricular format. Then again the hospital did say these kinds of classes would benefit for me. So did they really have to put this class on my schedule? Life really did hate me. A lot. 

This class went by painfully slow. It was mainly just videos on current events with humans and giants, and then Mrs. Kay asking us questions to which only the people on the front desks had answered. Not that I even wanted to answer a question like that. But it was mostly hard to focus when you had someone who could very easily push me off the side of the desk without even trying. I mean, I never once looked behind me the entire class period. Only hearing him flip pages in his notebook from taking notes like everyone else in the room. 

One other thing I had noticed was that rarely anyone had talked. For a class that was supposed to bring humans and giants together, it really didn’t seem like it. Then again, I had no idea wha they really did in this class. Maybe she just doesn’t like talking? Or people didn’t want to get in trouble or something? They were too tired? That would make the most since it was the end of the day. 

It felt like forever before the final bell had rang. I rushed down that stupid elevator thingy and hurried out the doors to the bus stop so I wouldn’t have to dread this until tomorrow morning all over again. 

My mom was still at work, so I just cooked some dinner for myself, made her a plate and stuffed it in the fridge and went to my room. This was going to hard to get through, but if my mom thinks it’ll help then I believe her. I mean, what other choice did I have? 

As soon as I heard the front door open, I saw my mom sighing while putting up her purse. I walked to the kitchen to heat up her dinner, earning a quiet chuckle form her. It sort of made me sad to think that she’ll never smile the same way again. Heck, she can’t even stand it when people touch her after what had happened. But at least we’re both still alive. 

“Smells amazing Nate.” She complimented, using her same soft and broken voice. She grabbed one of the plastic plates from the cabinet and getting herself a cup of tea. 

“How was school?” 

What was I even supposed to say to her? That it was terrifying every second? That I barely even survived the day without going under a panic attack? I couldn’t tell her that. She’d be so worried about me she wouldn’t worry about herself. I couldn’t do that to my mom. 

“It was good.” I put on my best fake smile and made her plate. 

“That’s good. There were no troubles?” 

“None so far.” 

“Thank you for doing this Nate. I just want you to have a normal childhood. I couldn’t have you at that hospital any longer.” She sadly explained, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. 

“I know mom. I’ll be fine.” 

She gave me a warm smile before taking her plate and sitting on the couch with the tv on. She didn’t need to know that I was practically forcing myself to even be around other people. It would put too much stress on her. For now, I’ll just force myself to endure whatever decides to throw itself at me. 

————————————————

And first chapter officially done. To be honest I wrote this just for the fun of it. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually make this a series instead of abandoning it? Don’t know.

[fractiflos]

Before the asking game is closed... Do you have some specific En headcanons? (Maybe including headcannons between the relations of En and the other users.) 

Ty! 😊

You're welcome. This time, I'll do headcanons specifically focusing on his relationships with the other users. The other headcanons I have for him are here and here.

Yoichi thought the new holder was very quiet, but had a good head on his shoulders. And because I headcanon that En grew up poor (not on the streets though) and had older siblings, they were able to bond over similar experiences.

Kudou was worried that this new user wouldn't have the willpower to keep OFA out of AFO's hands. He changed his tune after the first attempt to steal OFA and approved of him. When En joined the void, they talked about their differences in fighting styles and compared notes, becoming friends along the way.

Bruce understood what it was like having to deal with people who you liked, but were honestly a lot, so he and En bonded over complaining.

Hikage liked him immediately. They had similar personalities so they could understand each other, but talking was difficult, especially because this was the first new person he had met. He already knew the first three and Banjo, so he was really anxious to make a good impression on En. It would be awkward for two vestiges not to get along since they all shared the same mind space. They got there eventually though and get along well.

He met Banjo when he first signed up to be a hero and Banjo was the one to mentor him. He really helped him get out of his shell and be a bit more confident in himself. They became good friends and were happy to see each other again in the void.

En met Nana through similar means. He was assigned to mentor her as they both had quirks that didn't seem too useful on their own. As he taught her, she showed that she was a good candidate for OFA because he knew there was no way he could defeat AFO. They were also happy to be reunited in the void, and even though he didn't agree with every choice she made, he was proud.

He liked Toshinori. Mainly because of that EPIC PUNCH HE DELIVERED TO AFO!!! WOOHOO!!! Although, he wished the 8th would take care of himself more. When Toshinori joins them in the void he'll be happy to get a chance to know Nana's successor better.

He was on the fence about their Ninth holder. After all, they had all been adults when recieving the quirk, but a child? In the end, he decided to give their Ninth his full support because in his shoes, En didn't think he would have declined either. And the ninth reminds him a little of himself when he was young with how shy he is. It's too bad he'll have to wait a while to meet him. It's not like their gonna gain the power to talk to each other or anything...

Bonus: En being the youngest of his siblings is glad to finally be able to act as an older brother to their ninth when they do get the power to talk to each other. He thought he was that way with Nana but he was still her mentor and that made things complicated.

I hope we get some En backstory soon. Even if the one I have is totally wrong, his canon backstory would be fun to work with and may give more insight on his relationship with the other holders.

[cityandking]

5, 35, 54, 62, 83 for dai, minah and narayani!

ty my dear! // 93 fun oc asks

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

DAI — dai's relationship with his dad is good! they're incredibly similar and dai has always looked up to t'velle as a role model and an inspiration and a source of wisdom. it's been a little strange to come home and have that moment of realizing his dad is also just A Guy. dai's relationship with his other parent is largely nonexistent, as they were an earth djinn who used their final Wish to wish daichi into existence as a fuck-you to dai's horrible grandmother, and dai has some very complicated feelings about that—some pride, some guilt, some grief. he's been reading through musa's diary and it's bittersweet to see parts of himself reflected in someone he's never going to get to meet. beyond that, dai gets on well with his uncle, does not get on well with his grandmother (the bitch), and is fond of (if often exhausted by) his cousin lhoris. (and of course, he loves his other dad pelor so much, and historically he's gotten on well (if awkwardly) with his other other dad tempus) MINAH — minah was absolutely a daddy's girl growing up and wanted to be like him and do him proud. her family got along well, though they had their usual spats and arguments. unfortunately her parents are dead, so there's not much of a relationship anymore. (she misses them horribly) NARAYANI — rani's birth clan is gone and she never knew her parents, but she was taken in and raised by clan lavellan as a sort of collective village+child thing, and she loves—loved—them all very much. she was closest to one of the elders who was something of a grandmother to her and really took her under her wing, but she considered the entire clan her family. it wasn't their fault she grew apart, not really. she just spent so long being the thing that protected them that she forgot to be their da'ayani

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

DAI — insist on things being true when they aren't. the more inane and stupid the better. dai would have hated the lolz so random era of internet humor. MINAH — complain about helping with things that everyone else is doing. she doesn't mind some kvetching but there's a time and a place, y'know? also, nosiness NARAYANI — every single unthinking, unconsidered word out of a shem's mouth is annoying to her. "the elves" she's already tuning you out.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle?

DAI — currently he's got cornrows capped with little gold beads and a sorta black/gold ombre thing going on (it gets lighter at the ends). in the past he's had long locs, a buzz cut, and natural hair. when he has a minute to restyle it, he's gonna go back to locs, but shorter this time. this vibe MINAH & NARAYANI — answered!

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

DAI — he's definitely been screwed over and is far less trusting of people than he was before the campaign, but I'm not sure he's been in a position to trust anyone enough for being turned on to feel like a betrayal. he felt a little betrayed when zaref first revealed he was a void tiefling/got them trapped in the void, but he's level-headed enough to know that wasn't actually a betrayal. MINAH — yes. as we've all seen, she's totally normal about it (girl has intense trust issues) NARAYANI — absolutely, but she's slow to take it personally. she's got plenty of other stuff going on that makes her wary of trusting others; past betrayals don't change much. (she also insists—once, firmly, when someone brings it up, and then it never comes up again—that what solas did wasn't a betrayal. it was a lot of other things, but she never felt betrayed by his actions. she is, perhaps, a little biased)

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

DAI — yes, mostly just enough not to drown. I think he probably learned from one of the soldiers during the rebellion (I'm not sure his dad even knows how to swim? I guess there might be underground lakes in Il'hesa but I'm not sure I'd trust them). he's ambivalent about it; the water is nice but he tends to sink like. well. like a stone. also he's died underwater twice now and that kinda puts a damper on beach days. MINAH — yes! she grew up near a river and enjoys swimming. one of the best parts of traveling with the troupe was camping by a lake or a river and getting to take a dip. NARAYANI — yes, very well. she enjoys swimming on a hot day and the freedom of moving through the water. it's a pity the south is so cold

[fancifulflora]

in the mood for angst! how would the LIs in atoc react to the crown sacrificing themselves for them (during or after ur choice!) ty! group crying session after this lol

hehehe, I've been writing a lot of fluff lately and semi angst so now it's high time I destroy people a little on the inside

also since its a sunday and i have a lot of extra time to write I'm posting this as a nice bonus on top of the 1 daily post

Azad/Ashti

Perhaps they weren't too unlike their father after all.

Both lead their country to ruin, to chaos, in one way or another.

The only problem was that the Royal Protector didn't lose their mind. Their body wasn't frail. Paranoia had not taken them the way it did their parent.

They were healthy, as healthy as one could be. Still young, strong. Capable and with agency.

Yet they were still alive. A Royal Protector now without their Crown.

A failure.

It still was fresh in their mind, a sharp ache filling up their head whenever they let their mind drift to you. The guilt robbed their lungs of air.

They think of the trust you had given them, they trust the two of you shared.

You knew full well that this was their purpose- their duty to lay their life down for your safety.

So why did you do it? Why go so far for them?

It hurts to not be able to hold you in your final moments, to be able to ask- demand to know why you were so damn selfless. Why you cared for them so. Why your eyes looked so resigned, so at peace the moment you shoved your entire body against theirs- your eyes meeting for the last time.

Your head rolling across the stones ended all hope for answers.

Leaving behind a country in chaos, a failure in desperate need of answers they'll never get.

Dara/Delal

Somehow, despite all odds, despite everything they did in their power to get stronger, to grow- they did it again.

They've killed another Crown.

It had to be a cruel trick played on them by the very Spirits themselves. Had to be. There was no way that they were deserving of such sacrifice.

No way a single, insignificant soldier was worth not one, but two Crowns.

Void take them, there was no way their life could ever be worth yours alone.

Not when they knew you, knew your character, knew your potential.

The armor they wore that day still sits in their office, the golden scales stained with a crimson that they may never wash off.

Their own hands are still stained with blood every time they dare look down at them, stained with your blood- no matter how many times they try to wash it off. Try to put it in the back of their mind.

They can't even stop to think of the consequences this will have on their family, they can barely think as is.

The only thing they can do is harden themselves and let the earth itself swallow their misery, their heart.

And their chances of redemption along with it.

Rozerîn/Rêzan

Not a soul blamed them for the Crown's passing.

A part of the sorcerer wished they would.

It's only right that they do.

Though they knew the blame would come later, when the nights of mourning- crying, ended.

It would come when the sorcerer could eat and drink once more when they could get back to brushing their long hair- leaving the darkness of their chambers.

And for once, they'd welcome it.

They'd happily take the looks from the nobles, the snide- even accusatory comments.

It wasn't like they were incorrect in their sentiment. The sorcerer did turn out to be unfit for their position. Unworthy of the faith placed in them by those around the magus.

They'd deserve no less for failing their mentor, for failing their Crown.

For failing you.

Void take them, they'd deserve more criticism if anything.

All their insecurities were brought to life that day, the same day life left yours. They still remember it now, remember the tears in your eyes as you cupped the side of their face, your weak voice telling them that it wasn't their fault. The way you clutched at their silk dress, your blood pooling on the ground.

No amount of healing magic could have healed the deep stabs you had sustained.

Spirits, to think that in your final moments, you'd be thinking of them. It ate away at the sorcerer's heart.

To think that they'd have no choice but to move on from your death - their task now set to finding the next Crown once more. To see the hard work the two of you put into Arsur washed away by time itself.

It was a weight the sorcerer wasn't sure they were worthy of taking, a burden they doubted- no, knew, they could not carry.

Not after watching their very hope fade from your eyes.

Xelara/Xelef

They had their doubts about you when they first stumbled across the long-lost Crown of Arsur.

Their own past with Crowns was a bloody one- one that had them contemplating whether or not they'd even help you in the first place when they first got a glance at your golden eyes.

They still remember holding you in your final moments, seeing the beautiful shades of the sun fade away.

Taking you with them.

Early on, they'd wonder what they might do- should do, if you turned out like Crown Piruz, whether they'd regret not being the one to run a blade through you- kill you where you stood in that clearing.

They certainly never expected to ever actually do it.

Not like this anyway.

Granted, they didn't actually kill you with their own two hands. In fact, most of the songs and tales being spun around Arsur have been about the affection they held for you.

A love that brought about their end.

All because of an arrow you had stolen from them- taking it through the heart instead of the mercenary.

No. They couldn't lie to themselves, not this time.

They knew better. Anyone would sense would.

It wasn't the arrow that killed you.

It was them.

[tartarusknight]

I don't know what you're hunting. It's not me, it's something else - 3/10

Also on ao3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3: An awful noise filled the air. I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

The Cabin was quiet as the radio buzzed to life. El looked away from the map she and Will had been looking at to her dad. “Code Red does anyone come in?” Nancy's voice was static but strong enough to have everyone tense. She looks over to Will, just for a moment. Just for a second of comfort before shit hit the fan once again.

“This is Hopper, we hear ya,” Hopper's voice was gruff and El could see the worry in his stance.

It takes a second for Nancy to respond. Probably less than a second but it feels like forever. “We think that Steve might- Steve's Bimmer is empty on the side of the road. Black blood on the ground and we could hear-” Nancy's voice stops for just a second but El's already looking around for something to create the static for her to look for Steve. “A Demogorgon and screaming,” Nancy's voice was tight.

Will tosses her a sweater she knows is one that Steve must've forgotten one of the last times he had been there. “El wait,” Hopper snapped, making El freeze. “I- I don't think you'll want to look for Steve. Not- you haven't seen the victims of-”

El stares him down, “I have seen death before.”

Hopper looks frantic, “But you haven't seen someone you-”

“I'm home but we need to make a plan.” Nancy's voice is still going on in the background of their staredown. “Robin- she's really out of it. She's barely responding to anything. Mike is trying to figure out something but Dustin's basically mute as well. We're not- I can't do much here.”

El squares her shoulders, “I have to try.” She states and Hopper's gaze washes over her, almost like he was looking for a weakness. El met his gaze, unwilling to show anything. She brings her makeshift blindfold to her room and Will follows. As she sits on the bed, he mimics her. Gently taking the piece of fabric and tying it around her head.

She closes her eyes and calms her body down. Trying to regulate herself; trying to focus. Her grip tightens on the soft sweater. She pictures the babysitter she didn't know nearly as well as she wished she did. She thinks of all the kind words the others say about the man when he wasn't there. How much he meant to the party.

The darkness of her void shifts and she looks around for anything. An ear-piercing scream has her stumbling back. She lands back into the water, her eyes scanning for Steve. The void stays black but the scream was- it sounded like Steve. She just couldn't see him. She pushed up to her feet, “Steve!” She yells into the blackness.

She moves forward, nothing coming into view as she goes. "Anything?" Will asks gently and El doesn't respond. Guilt bubbled up as she continued without success. However, as the scream grows in pitch she sees a big house, Steve's house, and takes off. The screaming isn't closer or further away. As if it was just all around her. El doesn't hesitate to slam into the house.

The area around her doesn't come into view except for glass on the ground. She runs forward and the monstrous roar of the Demogorgon overpowers the screams. “Steve!” She yells again and there's a crunch of glass under her feet. She rushes forward. She sees broken glass sliding doors heading and instantly runs through them. There's nothing out there though. The world stays black and empty around her. However, before she can keep going to find Steve. Something rams into her.

Wet, almost slimy skin touches her. The weight presses her down before she feels fingers curl around her arms. They tighten their grip until claws are sinking into her arms and it feels like its going to break her arms. It roars, the familiar Demogorgon's roar straight into her ears as she screams in pain. “El!” Will's voice breaks through her mind once again. It snaps her into motions and she bellows, making the monster fly back and off of her. It crashes into the side of a shed, the whole thing collapsing on it.

As she rolls to her feet she hears another roar in the distance. An answering call comes from the shed and El feels like something different. "El, what's happening?" Will asks and El takes a step back at the wet rumbling coming from the shed. A scrap of the claws on concrete filled the air as it tried to stand. Blood dripped down El's arms and she blinked as it hit the ground. As if casting a red glow.

A scream pierced the air and she stumbled. It came from the shed and felt like it was being drilled into her skull making her concentration break. It was so filled with pain. As if it was trying to put all that pain into her. And it was a lot of pain. She crumpled in on herself, covering her ears. It didn't stop. She screamed as see felt as if her body shook with the sound. 

Her chest heaved as felt pain running through her body. She glanced down at her arms, but nothing was there. There was a faint ringing in her ears as she pulled off her bandana. The door to her room slams open and she looks over to see her dad and Joyce there. Jonathan is not too far behind them.

She couldn't help but remember defeating the creature the first time. She had been so exhausted it sent her to the Upside Down too. The panic in her friends as she forced herself to wake up and protect them. Of all of the dead military outside of the science room.

Her eyes fill with tears, “I- I couldn't find him.” Her voice breaks and when Will reaches out she takes his hand. Hopper drops down next to her and pulls her into a tight embrace. She feels like a failure. She could only find the thing that- that...

She could feel the group of people in the room break a little at her news. She, herself, broke a little. “You did what you could,” Joyce said, her voice watery.

El shook her head, “We should have made him stay. We should've taken care of him.” She argued and looked away from them to the wall. “All I could do was- was find a monster .” Her hands went to her arms and she kept expecting blood to show but they were unhurt.

“I- I can try again,” her voice shakes but Hopper's already shaking his head. “I have to try again! It's Steve!” She states and everyone looks like they understand but aren't about to let her.

Joyce wipes the blood from her upper lip with her sleeve. Her hand hesitated for a moment before it gently reached toward her ears. El tensed as more blood came away. “We can't let you get hurt either, honey.” She says and El feels like it's unfair. She knows that they expect her to be ready to fight Vecna, to close off the Upside Down. But what were her powers for other than to save her friends?

“You were at the hospital earlier, trying to get through to Max. If you keep going, you'll burn yourself out.” Joyce says and it's soft but it's not what El wants to hear. “We'll make a plan and do it the old-fashioned way.”

Hopper nods, “I'll get Owens on the line and have him send men with the right weaponry to the area. Right now... right now we don't have what it takes to send out a rescue mission.” He says and El squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. “The woods aren't safe after dark,” he states and she pulls herself from his grip.

She feels a little faint from it all but she refuses to show it. “I try again,” she demands. She holds out her hand to Will who had the blindfold in his hand. “Please,” her voice barely manages to stay strong. Will hands it over with a worried look and she glares at Hopper until he takes a step back.

El returns to her position and closes her eyes.  Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.  She chants in her head, one hand holding the sweater in her lap. The world shifts until she's in her void. She looks around more frantically than before. “Steve!” She screams and spins around, looking for anything that would lead her to him.

Until she hears a steady drip. It feels like an echo and her entire body tenses up. She slowly turns around and looks around to see a tree. Her hands shake as she moves closer. She can see the droplets hit the water's surface as she draws nearer. Then slowly, she looks up to see a shirt that she remembered Steve in just that night.

The entire right arm of it was stained black like her pink dress had looked after she had been in the Upside Down, only worse. It was so wet that it continued to drip down. Black like the night sky. She reached up and pulled it down. It was torn to pieces and she held it to her chest as she looked around for anything else.

“Steve!” El called out and moved away from the tree. Instead of her babysitter, she hears a chittering that couldn't be described as human. Her throat bobbed and she held onto the shirt tighter. Fear fought with anger as she looked around for the creature.

Fear won over as she heard heavy panting behind her. Everything in her froze as she felt like prey, not for the first time in her life. But this time wasn't different. It wasn't Papa or One's calculating gaze, it was a feral predator on the hunt. El turned around slowly as if not to startle it. A form that looked almost human crawled towards her, looking unnatural on all four. It remained in shadows and she took a small step back. Her hand raised ready to attack when she caught sight of it for the first time.

Eyes so black there was no white left, ears pointed and elongated, with the bottom of the face peeled back to show rows of teeth, drool dripping from its petal face. The dark of the night made the hair on its head look black. Black blood dripped down its neck. It was so monstrous that she couldn't make sense of it. It raised itself onto two legs with ease. Its arms were much longer than they should be.

The creature let out a guttural rumble that had El's chest shaking along with it. It felt like thunder before it opened wide and let out this sound that had her stumbling back. A wail of vocal cords as they were pushed to their limits, going from low like thunder to a hellish screech.

It took her stumble as weakness and dropped onto all fours running at her with an unnatural dash towards her. El threw her arm up and shoved it backward. It let out a wet tittering sound almost like laughter. The hair on her arms stood on end as its shoulders cracked and a loud ripping sound came from its body. Flesh squelched and tore.

“Eleven,” the word torn from the figure like an anguished wail, more pained than anything she'd heard before. Another another eerie laugh broke from the creature as it shifted onto its feet. She locked her gaze on the monster and saw blood dripping from its eyes, almost like tears. The petals, made of pale skin fluttered, black liquid dripping down its neck.

She felt sick looking at this creation. Something that had to have been human at one point. No stretched and molded into this abomination. The eyes were pitch black, still bleeding as its back seemed to self-mutilate. She gripped the sweater and shoved her hand forward, trying to push it back again. Only this time, it didn't move. It stayed in place, wet garbles coming from its mouth as it changed.

A sharp bone broke from the skin of its back, ripping what was left of the shirt it had on. Its own bone rending its flesh. As it let out another horrifying sound, El ran. Away from the sight, away from the predator. Away from the monster, her breath catching.

Her feet splashed against the water on the ground but it was overpowered by the roar the creature let out. No doubt, on her trail. As the creature screamed behind her, she found herself snapping back into her body. Her breathing was harsh as she pulled off the blindfold.

Tears filled her eyes as the fear seeped from her bones. Her entire body was trembling as the creature played like a movie on the back of her eyelids. Her family watched her closely. And she reached toward Hopper with a shaky hand. Hopper moved quickly, pulling her into an embrace.

“El? Did you find Steve?”

The creature lunged. I turned and ran. To save a life I didn't have (In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier) Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Tags: @ellietheasexylibrarian @nburkhardt @artiststarme @flowers-that-sing @juleswashere3 @indiearr @remosdeerica

[lyrker]

Malevolent, Episode 17, “The Pit” music timestamps

John: You Call It Madness (I Call It Love) (Russ Columbo, 1932)

Arthur: Faroes Song (Original piece by Arthur)

Faroes Lullaby (an “important song”, has to do with Faroe)

Reminiscent: Category for all the piano pieces that are not Faroes Song and A Lullaby

Ep 17. The Fall

Pit in the caves of the Dreamland deserts

-13:01 “Reminiscent”

Arthur and John argue about the monster, how John doesn’t remember it. John doesn’t remember being the King in Yellow.

-13:47 “Faroes Song”

Arthur will not die trapped in a corner like a rat. He rummages through the bag for something; a book, with the symbol the same as the book John came from. Arthur is looking for answers. The book has even more symbols. 3 on the front, two faded, and 3 unique ones on the back.

There’s many chapters and headings with names, maybe. It’s handwritten with descriptions (ex. Habitat). It’s a beastiary.

-16:58 “Faroes song”

A deeper version.

John and Arthur argue about what they should do. John argues they should escape rather than search for knowledge on the creature. He says this world isn’t meant to be understood, that Arthur’s pursuit for answers clouds his mind. Treating it like an investigation isn’t going to end well, that this “isn’t survival.” Arthur says it is; they’re leveling the playing field, navigating the sea at night using the stars to carve the way forward, unable to navigate first without learning the patterns.

John says you cannot navigate with stars that move.

John still says learning the rules isn’t going to work; Arthur says it can’t hurt.

They read.

-30:05 “Reminiscent”

As John mentions that the area seems like a game, Arthur mentions the Minotaur, how it’s similar, because of Theseus. John is dismissive about the story, at first. John tells Arthur needs to take a leap forward, and he lands successfully. John then asks who Theseus is. Theseus fell in love with the kings daughter, and was the only one to ever find a way out. They hide again. John asks how Theseus escaped. He had a thread the kings daughter have to him, tying it to the entrance, allowing him to find the way out. He killed the minotaur, stories varying on how.

John suggests a big rock.

-34:48 “Faroes Song”

The deep version of Faroes song.

Arthur talks about how when they fell, he felt like he slipped away into a nightmare he has often. Reoccurring, ever since Faroe. The night she died. Arthur says he failed her, but as John prys Arthur ignores him.

-39:32 “Faroes Lullaby”

John assures Arthur they can do this. That they’ve been through a lot, faced so much. Seen the void and fell in, but haven’t let it take them. They can do it, together.

-40:00 “Faroes Song”

Arthur talks about Tess, a woman he hired to help. She looked after Faroe as he worked. Arthur calls himself “self-involved” in a bad way.

Tess asked weeks prior if she could have the evening off. Arthur ignored it. Tess ran the bath for Faroe and told Arthur herself that she was in the bath and told him to check on her. Tess’a carriage arrived and Arthur wished her a good night. The water kept running and Arthur kept writing.

Arthur wrote music as Faroe drowned.

Arthur says he doesn’t deserve Johns belief or trust, that he instead deserves the monster below them.

Arthur tells him not to be sorry, that he doesn’t deserve sympathy. That he failed that day.

John says he won’t let him fail again.

[teememdee]

I’m curious, besides Kai’Sa and Taliyah, who would you consider to be your favourite characters? And if it’s not too much to ask, what makes you so interested?

Apologies if I’m overstepping.

No worries I love to talk about my blorbos — and ty for the kind words in your other asks!

I made a tier list of all the champions a while ago and it needs some updating now that I do know every champ’s name and know more about some that I didn’t previously (namely Orianna, but others as well)

I won’t go through everything rn but I can touch on the first two rows and some change.

Kai’Sa I’ve talked about extensively, I love the tragedy of her character and her personality and everything. Ahri also has tragedy to her, primarily my interests in her lie with the wanting to know about her family and choosing to make memories of her own rather than take from others. I also of course think they should kiss in every universe

Evelynn I like more in k/da-verse but she’s fun in all forms. Absolutely my favorite character to write dialogue for, she invites a lot of fun banter. Akali is similar, I love her in k/da-verse, I want to be friends with her but also in Runeterra The Bow and the Kunai broke my heart and I feel so sad for her.

Kassadin, again lots of tragedy that’s fun to think about, and also I have fully blorbo-ified him in k/da-verse and have created an elaborate story about him and his dead wife and how Kai’Sa grew up and one day I’ll write it all down I just wish a certain someone had a NAME

I am a Seraphine Lover i don’t care what anyone has to say. She’s a fun character and there’s a lot of potential with her story that I hope is explored one day

Jinx is my meow meow she’s just like me for real (arcane bias here)

Miss Fortune I really like in Ruined King and I really enjoyed writing her in my Star Guardian fic. I won’t claim to be an expert on her but she’s so fun. I watch the Bilgewater LoR cinematic at least once a month

Kalista because the Ruination novel. I love tragedy and everything with Ledros hurt my heart

Bel’Veth I’ve discussed and Thresh is my joker he’s just like me for real.

Skipping down, I hate Malzahar for story reasons (responsible for Kai’Sa falling into the Void), Hecarim for betraying Kalista, and Yasuo for existing (his personality is insufferable and I wish he never came within 50 feet of Ahri)

[zuluc]

@kookieyachi​ requested: i hate to be that one person but i doubt they'll increase the rate but imma try my best & start saving for zhongli & childe 😼🤚 anYWAY-, i was wondering if u could write another diluc x reader whr they're in a secret relationship (only kaeya knew somehow-) & one of the mcs & paimon heard rumours of diluc having a s/o & decide to follow him, to see him gg on a date w the reader or summ,,, hope its not too confusing haha🥺💖

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i meant rng rates those screw me over when it matters but i hope we get good ones when their banners come in, i wish the best of luck to everyone pulling may we get our dream teams; THIS IS CUTE ty for all your requests you know what’s good 😪😪

the mc in this is aether because i love aether

“I hear someone has Master Diluc’s heart!”

“Is that so?”

“Aw, man! I wanted him...”

It’s been the talk of the town for longer than he expected and wanted it to be: Diluc’s love life. He was always the private one and never shared anything about his personal life so it was only natural that no one, minus Kaeya it seemed, had a clue as to who took Mondstadt’s most wanted bachelor.

“Are they sure he’s even with someone? Isn’t it just a rumor?” Paimon asks her travel companion as they make their way into the tavern for a late night drink. The pair had travelled back to the town for a few days and while walking through they listened in on what the townspeople were gossiping about this time around.

“Not sure, he doesn’t seem like the type. Why not ask him, Paimon?” 

Paimon flies in front of his face and places her hands on her hips, “You don’t just ask him! He’s so secretive and... and well just that! Also, Paimon thinks he’d just avoid the question.”

“You won’t know it’ll work if you never try.” Aether suggests and opens the door to the tavern. He himself actually wanted to know the truth to those rumors because, well think about it, it’s Diluc and any information that made him seem more emotional than he let on was interesting. He steps inside, seeing the people inside drinking and laughing. They all greet him with their cheerful, yet drunk replies, and Diluc nods his head in acknowledgement. 

“Welcome back. What’ll it be for tonight?” He asks them. Aether places his drink order and Paimon hovers over the bartender with a judging look on her face. Convenient that he is working tonight. He raises a brow, “Can I help you?”

“U-Uh,” she turns her attention to Aether who simply looks back at her and sips his apple cider vinegar, a look of you’re on your own for this one on his face. “Have you heard what’s being said around Mondstadt, Master Diluc?” She asks in a way to slowly lead into the main question. Diluc picks up a glass and shakes his head, turning around to place the item on one of the shelves. 

“I’ve never paid attention to gossip if that’s what you’re referring to. And like I’ve said before,” he eyes the emergency ration suspiciously, “I don’t dwell on idle chat.” Those words, while they weren’t intended to be as cold as they sounded, prevented Paimon from pressing on. She pouts while flying, but her gaze lands on his hands. They are void of his usual gloves and Diluc wore them even while working. She brushes it off as a useless observation and the door of the tavern opens. 

“Evening!” Charles greets them. He waves a hand to Diluc who finishes the last of the glasses he is cleaning, silently thanking the bartender for taking the rest of his shift. He walks out the back and Paimon floats up.

“Does he have something else to do? He usually stays for the rest of the night.” She questions Charles who shakes his head in amusement.

“He must be working hard,” Charles comments, “or maybe taking some time for himself.” Paimon perks up at what he says and she looks at Aether. The traveller finishes his drink and narrows his eyes at her.

“What?” He barely gets another word in before she is rushing out the door. “Paimon!” He places mora on the counter and bids Charles a good night before following her. The door swings open and Aether is met with Paimon flying in front of his face.

“We’ll follow him!” She states confidently, a glint in her eyes.

Aether stares at her blankly. “Uh, why?” Again, she doesn’t give him an answer when she sees a flash of red hair behind his head. They keep quiet and hide behind the stone building when they see Diluc look side to side, almost catching them in his sight.

“He’s definitely going somewhere!” She is much more invested in this than Aether thought, but his own curiosity was overpowering the possibility of getting caught by the pyro user as well. He wordlessly agrees and they quietly tread behind him through Mondstadt, hiding behind every pole and wall whenever they thought he believed someone was following him.

Minutes into their mission Aether catches sight of the Knight of Favonius building and his suspicions are raised. Diluc wouldn’t be caught dead near this place, what more just by walking by it? He stops at the side and Aether tugs his hovering companion away from Diluc’s line of sight when it opens, a familiar person stepping out.

“It’s--!”

“Honorary Knight!” Huffman interrupts Paimon’s exclamation as he rushes to the both of them. “Would you be able to help us out near Windrise? Quite a lot of slimes showed up and the other knights are preoccupied with their own missions. I know you just got back but...”

“We’re good!” Another knight shows up, running to them, “Captain Kaeya helped us out!” Aether looks back and forth between then before looking at the door. It seems that the person and Diluc had already left. 

“Ah, I see. Sorry to intrude on your evening.” Huffman excuses himself and leaves with the other knight. Paimon flies towards the empty stairs, floating around premises as if looking for clues.

“Paimon saw y/n! Do you think they’re together?” She questions. 

“Isn’t that too much of an assumption?” Paimon floats to Aether’s face with mock anger on her features. “Maybe they could just be well-acquainted.”

“Let’s just see who’s right then! I bet...” she places a finger to her chin, “...5000 mora!”

“You don’t even carry mora.”

--

The commissions burned you out but you are more than happy to see what awaits you after you leave the building. Bidding Jean goodbye, you settle into your coat and push the doors open. He’s standing there waiting like he said he would and you notice there is no one around, though you had an inkling that someone was watching you. You are broken out of your thoughts when Diluc’s warm hand cups your face. He was initiating more touches after becoming comfortable in your relationship, so you felt happy that he could do so outside though with no one to see.

To you, it was hard to believe that you managed to attract him in the first place, considering his many suitresses, but despite that he insisted that it was you he was after.

“Something the matter?” He asks gently, removing his hand when he could hear steps behind him. You shake your head and smile at him causing his heart to warm at the sight. “Good, shall we?”

Your dates aren’t like the usual ones. You walk around the sides of Mondstadt when everyone is asleep as you both share what has gone on in your day. Sometimes, you even take a stroll outside the city and sit under the large tree in Windrise, watching the stars twinkle. Going on many secret rendezvous were fun and brought an excitement and mystery to both of your lives when they occured. 

But even so, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if the townspeople knew. 

Diluc never explicitly mentioned that he wanted the whole town to know and you both came to the conclusion that keeping your relationship from the public would be beneficial. He was known to be aloof yet protective of Mondstadt. He had a reputation to uphold and the enemies would otherwise have vital information to his weaknesses if they came to know of your connection.

You know he loves you, he tells you every night before you have to part until you see each other the next day. And any doubt in your mind is gone when your hand is held tightly in his.

--

“Paimon, we’ve been following them for too long. They’re just talking.” Aether felt uncomfortable doing what they were doing and spying on the both of you. He watches the both of you engage in a regualr conversation. After losing sight of you at the Knights of Favonious building they glided around trying to track you both. He couldn’t see that your hands were intertwined due to how your coat concealed it. 

“Ahh! Fine, we should go rest,” Paimon says defeatedly, “Paimon can’t believe she lost 5000 mora!” Aether rolls his eyes and jumps down from the roof to head to a nearby inn. The streets are quiet but there are audible footsteps from their right as they move through the houses.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you back in town.” Kaeya greets him with the usual lilt to his voice. “Why are you two still up?”

“We were following Master Diluc because we think he’s seeing someone!” Paimon really has no shame, does she? Aether thinks to himself and he looks up at the Cavalry Captain when the latter lets out a light chuckle. 

“What an interesting activity... I do hope you find your answer,” Kaeya nods his head to direct it behind them. Aether and Paimon follow his direction and see the two they had been trailing for the past hours. “Good night.”

“I almost forgot!” The duo’s ears perk at the sound of your voice. You and Diluc are at the front of your home and their eyes widen at the sight of your hand in his. You reach into your coat pocket to pull out his gloves, “You left them here.”

“Thank you,” Diluc replies, lifting the hand he held to his lips and kissing the back. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night, Diluc.” The smile on your face is ever radiant and he leans down for his kiss. You oblige but pull away to lean closer to his ear, “It seems that we have company.” Your hold leaves him and you open your door, disappearing inside. Diluc turns his head and sees the shocked faces of the traveller and ration. 

“Paimon wins.”

[angeloroki]

you're the only one — s. todoroki & a. tamaki

— character ; aged up!shoto todoroki x fem!reader, aged up!amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

— request ; Can I request sm? So shouto and tamaki ( feel free to remove any of them if you want to ) having I nightmare about there s/o cheat on them and when they wake up they are kind of upset or insecure and reader comfort them ( fem!reader plz )And don’t feel forced to do it just do it when you want to and ily take care of yourself 😘

— genre ; angst & fluff at the end

— warnings ; insecurity ?

— a/n ; well amajiki's is longer cuz i don't write much about him, i hope you'll like it anyway!

and ty for your request <3 take care of yourself too ily too muah!

shoto todoroki

you turned to the other side, expecting to feel the comforting warmth of your boyfriend at your side. just before you were greeted by an icy morning cold.

reluctantly, and slightly surprised, you opened your eyes to find that, instead of seeing his still beautiful morning face, you saw only a void.

you looked at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was far too early for him to have left.

with a sigh, you grabbed your slippers and dressing gown, and left your warm bed to find a cold you wished you hadn't met so soon.

as you left your room, you ran into shoto in your small kitchen, sipping coffee. a smile slowly came to light up your tired face.

« you're up early today. » you say by way of a greeting.

with slow steps, you place a tender kiss on his cheek. nevertheless, what made you raise your eyebrows was the fact that he was avoiding you. since when was the list of ingredients in the packet of biscuits so interesting?

he greeted you anyway, in a low, monotonous and slightly broken voice.

« what's going on ? »

alerted by his sadness, you took his face in your hands in a matter of seconds. your piercing eyes stared intently at him, ready to relieve his pain whatever it was.

his face was red from crying, and you still had traces of it on his rosy cheeks. he tried to pull away, with a gentle but strong gesture. worried, you bit your upper lip to keep from crying back. it was rare to see him in this state, being usually stoic. few things could put him in such a state.

« nothing, i just had a bad dream. »

your hand remained on his cheek, and you gently forced him to look at you. with a gentle gesture, your other free hand came to meet his, a certain warmth came to warm you despite the morning cold.

« i'm listening baby. »

a long sigh escaped his lips.

« it's not worth it, y/n, just ridiculous. »

you frowned slightly.

« shoto, I'm worried. »

a faint smile stretched his lips slightly. and without you expecting it, he laid his head on your neck. his warm breath made you shiver.

« you abandoned me from one day to the next. without a word, without any explanation. in fact, you left me for another man. and that's how i understood that i wasn't good enough for you.

i know i'm not the ideal man, i'm quite atypical and i don't always show my love for you like other boyfriends do. and sometimes i wonder how a woman as fabulous as you can be with me. »

he stopped.

« you know i'm not stupid, i see how other men look at you. »

as he spoke, you could feel his tears rolling down your chest.

« but i love you. you're the first person i've ever loved this much. you've shown me another side of life that i never got to know because of my father. you've taught me to love y/n. i can't see myself without you. »

your hand came to meet his hair, which you gently stroked. a tear of your own this time came down your face too. you were kind of relieved that it wasn't that bad, although seeing him in that state kind of freaked you out.

« shoto todoroki, listen to me. you're the perfect man for me. you're the one who smiles at me without even meaning to. you're the one who got me to like cold soba. you're the one who comes to warm me up at night in your arms. you're the one i could die for. you're the one who manages to get me to watch the same cheesy romantic movie every night. you're the one i could talk to for hours and days. you're the one person i can see myself spending the rest of my life with. »

you didn't hear him crying anymore. instead, a comforting silence enveloped you both now.

« y/n - »

« you are the man of my life. and i love you like crazy, it scares me a little sometime how much love i have for you. you have no idea. »

with that, you placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted slightly salty from his now dry tears. it was with pleasure that you felt a smile stretch against your lips. his arms came around you in a long, loving hug.

« i love you, y/n l/n todoroki. »

amajiki tamaki

you had finished work earlier so you decided to surprise your fiancé by making his favourite dish.

you hadn't seen him this morning before you left for work, which surprised you a little because he always took the time to come and say hello or give you a kiss.

and now that you think about it, it's true that he hadn't texted you all day, which he usually did too. whether it was to complain about how he embarrassed himself in front of everyoneor just to slip a sweet i love you into your notifications.

had you pissed him off ? you shook your head at yourself, you don't remember if you did. you were probably imagining things.

a few minutes later, you heard the door slam and your boyfriend drop his stuff in front of the entrance. you expected him to come up behind you to give you a long, warm kiss. well, he didn't and probably won't because you heard him lock himself in your room.

you raised an eyebrow. something was wrong.

with a quick step, and slightly apprehensive, you joined him, and came upon a tamaki curled up in a ball in your bed.

you sat down next to him, putting your hand gently on his shoulder.

« tell me what's wrong. »

« i don't know what you're talking about. »

you flinch slightly at the tone of his voice. hard and cold it was. which was a big change from his usually soft and warm voice.

the high school amajiki had grown up, matured. you were able to be by his side as he evolved, he was now a confident and strong man. although old habits die hard

« huh ? did i do something ? »

he finally met your gaze, and it didn't match his tone. full of melancholy, his eyes were bright. he had been crying.

your expression, which at first was slightly annoyed, became more and more panicked. your hands automatically came to meet his, but they refused to meet them.

« tell me what the fuck is wrong ! »

« i - i don't know if it's a good idea for us to get married. »

you swallowed hard. the words stuck in your throat, you didn't understand what had just happened.

« w-why ? » you asked silently.

« i'm not good enough for you, you deserve better. let's stop kidding ourselves. »

an unpleasant heat came over your face, it was anger rising.

how could he know that you deserved better ? didn't your unconditional love for him count for anything ?

« why- why are you saying all this now ? »

it wasn't like him. he had a tendency to doubt himself sometimes, but he had never doubted your love for each other.

« isaw that you had cheated on me. in a dream, of course. you seemed happy with this man. he was everything i wasn't. perfect. i don't want you to waste your time with me, i don't want you to make the mistake of your life by getting engaged to me... i'm just a waste of time, well i've always been anyway. you must think i'm exaggerating and being ridiculous... i probably am... »

he lowered his head as he spoke, now refusing to look you in the eye. it was as if he were eighteen again, the shy and anxious teenager who refused to make eye contact with anyone when he was embarrassed.

a slight gasp escaped your lips.

your hands finally met his, you smiled softly when he didn't try to pull away. you let the silence settle comfortably between you, letting the gestures express your thoughts.

your soft gestures that had already comforted him many times in the hardest moments as well as in the most joyful ones. the same ones that had always succeeded in making him feel loved and safe in your fusional relationship.

he relaxed little by little in your arms, letting all his doubts fly away with this tension that paralyzed his muscles.

you finally spoke up when you were in a fairly comfortable position, both in each other's arms.

« amajiki, baby. i could never be this happy with anyone else. and i mean it. you're the one i grew up with, loved, cried with, laughed with. how can you say you're a waste of time? sweetie, even if we broke up, i'd be happy to tell everyone i loved a great man like you. but i know that's never going to happen, because i'm ready to say yes to you when the time comes. »

his grip around your waist tightened slightly.

« i - »

a tear rolled down your cheek. It wasn't sad, it represented all the love you had for him.

« you don't have to say anything, just kiss me tamaki. »

with your eyes closed, you felt his lips against yours. he had a gift for giving sweet kisses too.

« let me make you the happiest of brides y/n.. »

[orange-waterfalls]

G-Bots (TM)

Googleplier (x4) x viewer!reader

ty anon for the request!

A/N: Funny story! I am no longer physically capable of writing normally! I tried so hard to be normal and just veered off into SCP/Cryptid viewer territory because I like expanding on the idea that the viewer is Not Human! Anyways, you’re hanging out with the Googles. That is it. Nothing is wrong. You do not recognize the bodies in the water haha anyways I think I like went a little creepypasta-esque at the end there but it’s fine I think probably. It’s fine. Might be a little weird in terms of story, but i think this was more focused on world building to me. Probably seen as more platonic than romantic, but see it however you wish. Enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

G-Bots (TM)

You wheezed just a bit as you sped through wherever-the-fuck you were. Sure, maybe that was a bad idea. Sure, Dark was a little bit threatening and SURE, you were supposed to be back by now, and the fact that you weren’t back with Mark trying to convince him NOT to split up was the tiniest bit problematic. You weren’t even sure this was a building? Were you in the void? Goddammit, not again…

You stopped, concluding that this was bullshit and you did not want to do it right now. You bent over, hands on your knees and took deep breaths. You stared into the emptiness for a bit, then looked around for a moment, just trying to figure things out. You needed to reassess. It was basically one big, long hallway with random twists and terms every few meters. You’d always end up back at the paintings of… them… and knew you’d gone too far. You did that over, and over, and over again. At this point you thought Dark had just forgotten about you. You took a deep breath in and let it out. You stood up straight and looked up at the paintings. You heard their voices echo through your head a bit. You squeezed your eyes shut and your head twitched.

“You’re alright… you’re ok… cool it…” You whispered to yourself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Meditate. Think.

You looked on either side of the hall and, for the first time, you noticed doors extending down into the void and not stopping. You let out a breath. You felt a slight sense of dread. Something was telling you not to enter the rooms. Some little voice in the back of your head that sounded suspiciously like Mark. But, hey, what else were you gonna do?

“Ok… do i want to enter the door on the left or the door on the right?” You asked yourself. You paused to think about it. After a few seconds you felt yourself jerk forward a bit. Your brain felt staticy and you felt compelled to the left. You turned the knob and opened the door slightly. Immediately you heard music that might be in an SCP game, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like “do you recognize the bodies in the water?”. You were hoping no, and you bailed before you had a chance to look. You ended up almost exactly in your previous position in the hall. Your brain felt fuzzy again, and this time you gravitated to the right. You opened the door just a little, maybe to see what was inside, but again you heard the SCP ambiance.

But this time it was from behind you. So, like any smart person, you swung the door open, slammed it behind you and did your best to lock it. But there was no lock. So you stood. Waiting. Nothing happened.

Of course nothing happened. Why would anything happen? Dark wouldn’t want you to get hurt… probably. This was his domain. Probably. If you were alive, it’s because he wanted you to be. If you were in this room, it’s because he wanted you to be.

Speaking of: Where the hell were you?

You turned around to look behind you. In the blank white room there was a single grey couch with all 4 Google androids sitting on it. Apparently they were recharging, because they hadn’t noticed you standing there and also they were plugged into an outlet in the wall. You hadn’t considered that they had to physically plug into something to charge up, but the thought made you snort.

Bad idea.

All of their eyes snapped open at once, revealing the glow of their assigned colors. They all stood up and began walking towards you in unison. You felt a slight sense of dread. Even so, you tried to grab the doorknob, the one that apparently was no longer there, and cursed under your breath when you could only feel the smooth wall behind you. The androids stopped, staring at you. You cleared your throat.

“Hey…” you laughed nervously, “So, uh, funny story, actually-”

“You are not supposed to be here,” The original Googleplier, Blue, stated.

“Well, see, that’s where this whole thing started, um, see, Mark wanted to split up-”

“No human is allowed inside of this room, and not you, either.”

“Well-” You stopped, processing what he said, “Wait. ‘Either’? I’m human.”

“No, you’re not,” Google Green said. You wanted to be offended, but you were more confused.

“What do you mean? I’m human!” You argued.

“What color’s your hair?” Red asked with a mean smirk on his face. You opened your mouth to respond, and an amalgamate of voices saying “BROWNBLACKBLONDEWHITERED” came out. You slapped a hand over your mouth.

“... what the hell was that?” Your muffled voice whispered. Well, you thought it was probably yours.

“What’s your eye color?” BROWNGREENBLUEAMBERYELLOW exited your being before you could even try to answer.

“Do you have any pets?” That one just ended with a computer error sound from you.

“... huh.” You dropped your shoulders a little. The revelation probably should’ve upset you more.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… do not recognize the bodies in the water.” You explained.

“Ah, I see. Darkiplier would want you to not die, therefore you may stay.”

“Ha. Wow. Who knew the Googleplier androids-”

“G-Bots.”

“... what?”

“We are legally not allowed to use the name ‘Google’ anymore. We are now G-Bots.”

“... legally.”

“We were discontinued. And sold. And signed a contract.”

“So does that mean I can’t call you Google anymore?”

“No, that is simply my name. The name of us as androids, however, is now G-Bots.”

“Ok. What about them?” You pointed to the other three.

“Yellow is Oliver, Green is Lee, Red is Elliott.”

“And you’re just Google?”

“They’ve been trying to change my name to Gregor. I deeply dislike it.”

“It’s a good name.” Oliver suggested, smiling.

“Means vigilant.” Lee shrugged.

“Don’t be a pussy, Greg.” Elliott adopted a shit-eating grin as he leaned a little closer to Google.

“You can do… whatever you wish. Just do not be like them, DA.” Google instructed through gritted teeth.

The room began to shift color and expand. The couch was still grey in the center, but there were now four sections of each of the colors. The yellow section was filled with flowers, with a laptop on a desk next to a switch and a little Vector robot sitting by on the windowsill that showed a colorful meadow with bees buzzing to and fro. It glitched for a moment, so you knew the window wasn’t real. The green section had large houseplants and looked a bit like a greenhouse, and had an Xbox hooked up to a TV in the corner and seemed to have a view of a lake in the faux-window. The red section had miscellaneous wires and computer parts and lights here and there, looking like a fire hazard, and a PC on a table, while the window showed what appeared to be space. Google’s section was absolutely spotless, not a single thing anywhere, apart from a tiny skateboard next to a PS4 in the corner, and the window showed computer code.

“Wow.” You said. You might be stuck here for a while, so you might as well enjoy it.

Though you wondered who DA was. -- You hate to say it, but you had a favorite G Bot. It was kind of like having a favorite child, in your mind. You felt like they somehow knew that you had a favorite, but you didn’t know why.

Oliver was the sweetest by far, immediately going to make you as comfortable or entertained as possible while you were with him. He asked you if you wanted to watch something, if you wanted to play a game, if you were hungry, etc. It was kind of like going over to a friend’s house for the first time. He was enthusiastic to the point where he was shaking with anxiety over wanting to make you happy. You thought he didn’t get many visitors and maybe that was why. He showed you his flowers, and the bees, and a small painting in the corner, hoping for  validation. His glowing eyes seemed to dull when you moved on to the next section, but said you’d visit him again. That did help, but he turned away sadly and went to water his flowers.

Lee seemed as though he couldn’t care less if you were there. He told you where everything was and that you could do whatever. If you asked for help, he would stop what he was doing and help you. Once you understood, he immediately resumed his previous task. He was a bit cold, like Google, but in a “I am very busy but I am still here if you need me” sort of way. He played a game or two with you, having a preference for the puzzle games more than anything else. Puzzle horror, more specifically. If there was a shooting part, he immediately shoved the controller into your hands, saying he didn’t want to do that part. When you left, he simply continued with his work without a goodbye.

Elliott tried so hard to ignore you for the longest time. You could hear him scoff and growl anytime you made any sort of noise. You were self conscious at first, but you came to understand that he was just an asshole. You started on a game, playing for a few minutes, and felt the red couch sink next to you because he had sat down next to you. If he thought you sucked (which he did) he would snatch the controller from you and finish whatever you were doing before giving it back. He refused to say anything or help you, either. He’d just make rude noises and walk away occasionally before coming back. When you left, he seemed a lot angrier than he had before, and wouldn’t say goodbye to you. He turned away with a huff and started pressing random buttons on the controller.

Google was by far the least interested in anything you had to do. You sat on the couch next to him, and he didn’t move an inch. You sat there for a bit, waiting, but he did not move. You stood up, walked around, messed with a few things, attempted to play a game or two. Google didn’t move. You pulled up the Gamer ChairTM and sat directly in front of Google, arms crossed. You sighed. Finally, he looked up at you.

“Is there something you need?” He asked in that monotone voice of his.

“I’m bored,” you said.

“Go to one of the others,” He closed his eyes.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious.

“That is not-” He sounded exasperated.

“Hey Google, what are you doing?” You interrupted like the little shit you were

“Currently, this G Bot system is recharging its battery. This G Bot is at: 69%.” He shifted to a purely robotic voice.

“Haha nice.”

“This G Bot’s primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible. Would you like to ask a question?”

“Yes. What do you like to do, Google?”

“I enjoy answering your questions. Do you have any more?”

“What company owns you?”

“G-Bots were recently sold by the Google company to Warfstache Incorporated.”

“Wilford has a company?”

“Warfstache Incorporated is co-owned by Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache and Damien-Dami-Da-Darkiplier.” He glitched while answering.

“Who’s Damie-”

“The Corporation owns shows such as ‘Markiplier TV’, ‘Warfstache Tonight!’, and ‘Hire My Ass’. Do you have any more questions?”

“Do you pass the Turing Test?”

“Wondering if you have to treat me with basic decency?” He shifted back to his less robotic, but still monotone, voice.

“No. Just wondering.”

Neither of you spoke again for a while. He did scold you when you tried to move the couch with him still on it, so… progress. -- You were beginning to suspect that Google didn’t like you very much.

The blue one. Google. The other ones liked you. Oliver ranted to you for a whole half hour about different kinds of bugs and the hierarchy of bees. The queen is assassinated when she is bad for the hive, it would seem. Lee made you play Resident Evil with him because he didn’t like the fighting, but he liked figuring out what to do. You frantically passed controllers back and forth a lot. Elliott basically did speedruns of several games, you watching intently the whole time. He seemed to like the attention and actually smiled at you whenever he finished one.

But Google didn’t like you. He ignored you, and told you not to touch anything, and scowled whenever you asked him personal questions. Not like “what’s your sexuality” type of personal questions. More like… “what’s your favorite color and why is it blue” sort of questions. He didn’t like them either way.

But the others liked you, and that was pretty neat.

You still wanted Google to like you though.

“Hey Google,” he perked up with the little “do-do!” noise, “Can you guys go into your different sections?”

“All G-Bots have the ability to pass into other’s color-coordinated sections,” He answered politely.

“Why don’t you?”

“We don’t want to.”

“Do you get along?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Celine dislikes when colors are mismatched.”

“Who’s-”

“I’m sorry, this G Bot needs to charge.”

“But you haven’t been-”

“This G Bot needs to charge.”

“Come on, if you--”

“This G Bot needs to charge.”

You quieted and plopped into the chair. You stared at Google. His eyes flickered for a moment before they closed. -- The other Bots knew who Celine and Damien were, they just weren’t telling you. Their eyes always flickered when you asked, but they wouldn’t tell you.

You threatened not to play with Lee anymore. He said he could play on his own. You could see that he didn’t want to. You played Alien: Isolation. His eyes seemed duller.

You threatened not to watch Elliott’s speedruns. He said he didn’t care. You could tell that he did. You watched him play Hollow Knight. His eyes seemed duller.

You threatened not to listen to Oliver’s rants. He looked terrified, but he said that was fine. You could tell it wasn’t. You begged him to tell you. He looked sad.

“Who’s Damien?” You asked softly, stepping towards him.

“I can’t tell you,” He shifted back.

“Who’s Celine?” You stepped forward.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Who’s DA?”

All of the G-Bots stopped what they were doing. You heard static and felt like you were being watched. -- You looked up at the color on the outside of the museum.

You were doing something. You were doing something.

Were you robbing this place? It felt like you were. What happened to Mark? What happened… to you?

You stared at the doors, feeling a slight sense of dread. Something in the back of your head was telling you this wasn’t right. To go home. To…

--

“Ignorance is Bliss. Try Again?”

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[zathechaosgod]

your voice ringin' in me like a chorus

title from “Hold On” by Cody Fry 

Nare (@narmacils-blog) writing angst is directly responsible for this, I’ve decided. Also please refer to their post about the dragonteeth and necklaces pls and ty, it’s a banger.

tw and a keep reading bc it uh, gets kinda heavy? Big Angst, Major Character Death altho not on screen, i guess? ask me if i need to tag anything ty

Not many people realise how quiet the end gets, after you’ve killed the dragon. 

There is no wind, no plants, no life except for the endermen, who stay quiet as long as you don’t look too closely at them.

Standing on top of the fountain, no endermen within reach, Draconix hears every bit of deafening silence. 

Although… the overworld isn’t any better these days, in his opinion. Mob sounds, even those of the villagers, don’t weigh up against the lack of friends yelling in his ears, spamming his communicator.

god why did it have to be him

It’s been so long he almost misses the times where the universe refused to let him join the co-op world.

it’s almost like the universe knew already

The first ones were kind of expected, Draconix will admit. Everyone knew Illumina had started running first, had always been the closest to the universe. Everyone knew Couri was taking a risk with his challenge. Nobody expects to be the last one left.

Draconix didn’t expect to be the last one left.

“Why me” he speaks out loud, into the void, into the universe, into whatever will listen to him.

The endermen ignore him. It stays quiet. 

The void doesn’t echo.

“Why me?”

Fruit had been quick to go as well, throwing himself into runs once his friend was gone. The others followed, unable to resist the call of the universe, trying to distract themselves from the loss, looking for a way to bring their friends back. It didn’t matter.

It’s not like Draconix ran less. World after world after world, even as the rest dwindled down. Stopped returning.

They’d laugh if they saw how many necklaces he was wearing right now.

He clutches them, staring into the portal below his feet. Feels the ridges and carvings in the assortment of teeth, slides his hand over the mess of braids and laces that hang around his neck. 

He ran just as much as they did. He would’ve long caught up on them by now. There’s no reason why-

He stills, hand clenching around the necklaces until his knuckles turn white.

He spreads his wings to the imaginary breeze.

Was that it? Was he just more connected to the universe in a way that granted him some form of immunity? Or was he somehow just. not worthy enough?

Not a full player. Not a player, not a runner, despite his records, despite his own necklace, buried beneath the ones left behind by his friends.

He’d prove the universe wrong if he needed to. 

One hand clutching the necklaces still, the other making sure his hat stayed on, Draconix stepped off the pillar and let himself fall into the portal. 

The timer on his communicator showed he’d wasted several minutes by taking his time standing there, but who cared, at this point? 

What’s there to run for if there’s nobody to run with you. 

I see the player you mean

For a second, Draconix debated playing out the entire thing. If only for a glimpse of his friends. He lets himself sink further into the universe, gvies in to the chorus of voices surrounding him, can almost imagine actually reaching out and joining them.

Completing the game has always been a unique experience, but it’s become even More with the amount of people that have joined it since his first Run. It’s become even more since he’s been wishing to join it as well.

For a second, he thinks it’s finally his turn. Thinks he can grabs Geo’s hand and join the universe and will never have to endure the ringing silence again.

But the universe is kind and the universe is love and the universe is a bitch and the universe took his friends and left him behind.

And so he respawns, necklaces around his neck and wings on his back, and the only sounds are those of the mobs around him. 

[sporadicerratic]

Reach Out and Touch Someone

This is my very first fic I have ever posted anywhere. For KingDings week 2021. This is prompt #2, “Heartache” I’ll come back and name it something serious later I swear I hope y’all like it pls be kind ty

Pit. Pat.

Only the quietest of sounds echoed in the dark space as the king carefully wiped the surface of a small stone coffin with a soft, damp cloth. Careful to catch the inside edges of small, green heart embossed into the center, he diligently scrubbed every inch of the surface; the sussurus of each pass punctuated by his occasional sniffles.

Once all dust had been eradicated from the top of the coffin, the king leaned close to the heart and gave it a soft touch, one that could even be considered tender. “I’m sorry,’ he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Pit. Pat.

Cloth into the bucket, swirled around and wrung out. The fur on his hands was soaked through, and the water was making it’s way down his forearm, but he hadn’t brought another towel to dry the coffins, or himself. There was work to be done, and a small coffin with a light blue heart that had gathered dust.

Had he not been so focused on his task, King Asgore might have noticed the faintest flickering in the corner behind the coffin with the purple heart on it. The darkness trembled and shivered, as did the figure peering through it to watch the king performing his sorrowful task.

Gaster knew that he didn’t have the strength to do more than pierce the void today, but how he wished with all of his might that he could be there to comfort his dearest companion through this, one of his most difficult duties as king. Before he had fallen into his creation, he had urged Asgore to let someone; ANYONE else tend to the coffins, but Asgore had refused. The corners of his eyes had crinkled up and his brow had furrowed in the way that made Gaster want to take him into his arms and never let go, despite the fact that he could only hug one side of his mountain of a goat. “Thank you, Dings,’ he had sighed, “but it was my own brash actions that put those poor children into those coffins. I could never,” here he closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers, “I could never ask anyone else to have anything to do with them. This is my responsibility.” He looked up, eyes glassy. “But, I thank you, my dearest friend. Come. It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we walk in the garden, while the sun is shining?”

Gaster’s hand practically disappeared into that of the towering king of the Underground, but his grip was gentle and his fur was soft, oh, so soft. If Gaster closed his eyes, he could almost remember the way it warmed the bones of his hollow hand, and the way that warmth spread to make his quivering, fractured soul feel almost whole again. Asgore was so full of love that he generously showered upon all of his subjects, and Gaster felt privileged to be a common recipient of what he secretly hoped was a little more, or should he say, a little different than that he showed to everyone else.  He only wished that he could share some of the burden that the king refused to ever let drop from those massive shoulders.

Pit. Pat.

Gaster was gently brought out of his reverie and back to the present as the king moved to the last coffin; the one with the purple heart. That human hadn’t offered much resistance; throwing the one item they had managed to bring into the underground; a simple notebook, and fleeing into a cavern in Waterfall. Every day that Asgore had to fulfill his promise to the monsters of the underground was a true test of his resolve. He always held it together until he made it back to the throne room; smiling and waving to the cheers of his subjects who saw the flickering soul cupped gently in his hands as nothing more than a sign of hope; not as the last surviving piece of a living being.

It was Gaster who took the soul from his hands as he collapsed, sobbing, into the flowers. It was Gaster who quietly encased it in a glass cylinder, and eased the broken body of the human from Asgore’s grip. It was Gaster who sat with him for hours; days; sometimes weeks, rubbing his back, holding his head in his lap, whispering gentle words of encouragement and love, making sure that he ate, and keeping him warm through the night when he refused to move from the spot where he fell.

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pit. Pat.

Asgore’s tears fell upon the last coffin, and as he tried in vain to wipe them from it’s surface, his will finally broke, as did the silence. He collapsed with an ugly sob onto the little coffin, arms wide enough to hold the entire thing in his embrace. “I, I’m s-so, I’m, s-so so sssso so ss-so sorrr-ry, little one,” he gurgled into the wet stone; smearing snot and tears with his ineffectual soaked cloth, and then his bare hands.

Something in Gaster snapped. He had spent months gathering enough energy to even open this portal, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to be by his king’s side when he needed him, even if he couldn’t manage a corporeal form. He shoved what little he was composed of against the taut membrane of the barrier between the void and reality, gasping as it sizzled and burned around the tips of his ghostly phalanges. Passing through even with a body was painful, but without one? He struggled to keep himself coalescent as pure fire danced along every part of that was slowly oozing through the gateway between realms. His head swam as the searing pain consumed his mind, but he forced his eyes open and fixated on the sound of Asgore’s heart-wrenching sobs; of those quavering shoulders that he ached to embrace.

With a terrible modulating scream and a pop he erupted from the void, only to stumble directly through the coffin, the king, and halfway into the back wall. A form. He had made it through, but without any kind of physical form. The barrier had consumed too much of the energy he had worked so hard and so long to gather.

“My king,” Gaster spoke aloud. Asgore’s shoulders continued to shake as he rained tears upon the coffin, though his sobs were slowing. He showed no signs of having heard Gaster at all. Gaster’s face fell, and then slipped slightly as the damned DT in his system asserted itself. Well, if it was going to make itself known, he was going to make use of it, damn it. He was determined to give his dear Asgore SOME sort of comfort.

“GOREY!” he practically shouted, doing everything he could to wrap his arms around Asgore’s back, and phasing slightly into his body. It was warm. Oh, it was so warm.

Asgore sniffled and looked up with a start. “Dings?” he whispered into the darkness, whipping his head around, and then spinning his entire body so his back was to the small coffin. Gaster inhaled sharply as the king’s face passed, unseeing, through his own. After glancing around a bit more, Asgore slumped, his face in his hands. “Of course,” he rasped in a forlorn tone that melted Gaster a bit more, “Of course he’s not here. I’m losing it. I’m losing it.”

“I’M HERE, MY KING! I’M HERE!!” Gaster carefully moved so that, if he had had any kind of solidity, his forehead would be pressing against Asgore’s. He pushed with every bit of will that existed within him, forcing it into the words. If he cannot feel me, at least, at least let him hear my voice, he thought.

“Ahhh Gaster, god damn it. I miss you so, so much. Why did you have to go and leave me like that, Dings? Why did you have to go away?”

Asgore’s voice trailed off as he laughed through fresh tears that coursed through the fur on his face to gather in his beard.

If Gaster had had any sort of form at all, he would have been crying as well. The most he could manage was to melt further against Asgore’s body; the determination he felt reducing him to half of his normal stature. “I’m sorry, Gorey. I’m sorry, I’m here, I swear it. You aren’t alone. You aren’t alone.” His blob of a hand passed through Asgore’s giant paw again and again as Gaster struggled in vain to manifest.

Asgore leaned his head back and wiped his eyes. “Dings,” he whispered, “if you were here, you would tell me that this defies all logic, and that I’m being absurd again, and that I probably need to eat something, but I could swear that you’re in this room with me right now. And, I, I could really, really stand for you to be in this room right now, Dings, I really could. So, I’m gonna talk to you anyway.”

Gaster’s face froze, and then a wide grin spread across his features. “I would like that, your majesty,” he whispered back. “I would like that very much.”

Hours later, Asgore’s gentle snoring filled the tiny room. He had spoken of love, and loss, and longing; of family and friends, and the many, many things he felt were so far out of his reach, and Gaster had heard it all. As his king had become more and more weary, Gaster spread his loose form over him in an embrace that he put every ounce of whatever determination he had left into making warm, and then fell asleep himself.

Had Asgore been awake, and had he squinted really hard, and had he even thought to look, he might have been able to make out the barest, glitching outline of ghostly, hollow skeletal hand resting on top of his palm.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 17: I Swim For The First Time...?

It was Annabeth's idea. She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front." "You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked. He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first." Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card. He looked at it skeptically. "Swipe it," Annabeth invited. He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?" "The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change." Maybe she shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, we had plenty of time to talk. Percy told us about his latest dream. The Lotus Casino seemed to have short-circuited my memory. I couldn't recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, though I was sure it was somebody I knew. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord" ... some special name or title.... "The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades." "Maybe..." he said.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described." He shook my head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

The crooked one... Annabeth's eyes widened. And looked at Percy. Who had a look of realization. "What?" I asked. "Oh... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—" "Like what?" "I—I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt." I wasn't sure what was wrong with her. She looked pale. "But if Percy already retrieved the bolt," I said, "why would we be traveling to the Underworld?" "To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your parents back." I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." "Why, thank you."

"Only mine is there. I'd rather get Y/N's than mine." Percy said gripping my hand.

"Huh?"

"You lost them thanks to me." He smiled weakly. "A-Anyways, the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," I reminded. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?" Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at me as if she knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it.

I have every answers. I could tell you. What do you wish to know? We are to help one another after all...

Could you tell me how I could save my parents?

Save them?  As I told you only we could save them. Being there, you'd know your only option. Only you could do it. Do you wish to know more?

What's this quest?

A trap. Next one?

Who is my parent?

Hahaha, that is a question I shan't answer. Just believe in all gods. Befriend them and you'll know. You could trust them all.

Even Zeus, Hades and Poseidon? They kinda suck...

Unless you're positive they aren't your parent, you don’t have to.

Yeah, can I have like... I don't know... I kinda want Hephaestus. He seems coolest. I an NOT blessed in like singing and all that so I can’t be Apollo's.

I've already given you a parent. My apologies. The one I chose would be... quite a friend. Would you want to know more?

Well not re---

"Y/NN!! Ask more about the quest and Percy's dream!!!" I hear Annabeth scream at my ear.

"Oh my gods! Don't scream at my ear!" I yelled pushing her away. "What do you mean ask about Percy's dream? Who will I ask? The driver?"

"You----"

"She can't remember whenever that happens." Percy explained. "They already told us."

"What are you guys talking about??"

"Nothing. We were thinking about the pit..." Annabeth sighed.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?" "Y/N... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades." Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin. "The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured us. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing." She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. And believe me, I'd done that enough times. The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice. At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave. Grover, Annabeth, Percy, and I walked down to the edge of the surf. "What now?" Annabeth asked. The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea. I felt anxious being near the water. Percy took my hand.

"What?" I said slowly pulling away from him.

"Trust me and come with me." He said looking at me in the eye. "Percy," Annabeth said. "That's stupid! She can barely stay alive up here!"

"If the water pulls her could you save her?" He glared at the two. "As long as she holds me she'll be safe." He gripped my hand.

"I-I'll trust you... But I have to make sure you won't let me drown... I-I need---" Annabeth then sighed and walked over to us taking our wrist.

"If she drowns I am totally not siding on you during the war." She hissed at Percy while tying Aphrodite's scarf on our wrist.

"how do you have that?" Percy asked.

"I forgot I gave it to her." With our wrist attached by a cloth, he held my hand tight then we kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest.

"I'm scared..." I gulped. Percy pulled me closer. That's when my head went under. I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally. Percy was smiling at me, with his arms still around me. We walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together. I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark. I almost screamed until I saw how cute it was. The thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog. Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. Percy took my hand and wrapped it on the fin, he grabbed the fin with both hands, so I followed his actions. It took off, pulling us along. The shark carried us down into the darkness. It deposited us at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there. The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific. Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, "Percy Jackson." As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. The underwater lady smiled at me. "You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done. And you brought... a friend." I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "H-Hello..."

"You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River." Percy said. "Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court." "An... you serve in Poseidon's court?" She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest." I felt so out of placed being here so I wrapped my arms around Percy tighter. "If my father is so interested in me," Percy said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?" A cold current rose out of the depths. "Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told him. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism." "Even to their own children?" "Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. Why do you think they're trying to find who Y/N's parent is? They helped raising her, that's why her scent is gone."

"M-My Olympian parent raised me? I don't remember anyone... I'm pretty sure neither my mom or dad are Olympians... or Greek."

"Well that is what they're trying to figure out."

"Well, what's my father doing then?"

"That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. "I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?" "Urn... no, ma'am." "Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet." "What will happen?" "That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

Percy took the three pearls and pocketed it. "Oh... but there are four of us. We'll need one more."

She looked at me and Percy. Then looked at her empty palm. "Your father..."

"I'm not leaving any of them if I need to use this." Percy said firmly.

She sighed and out came another pearl. Instead of handing it to Percy she handed it to me. "The lord does not like you. He's been firm and obvious of that fact. But... as his son refuse to leave you..."

I took the pearl reluctantly and thanked her. "What about the warning?" Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson." She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void. "Wait!" Percy called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?" "Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone. "Your dad... must really hate me to leave me in Underworld when worse comes to worse..." I muttered burying my face on his neck.

"Don't worry... I won't let him hurt you, just because whoever your parent is raised you." He kicked upward toward the shore. When we reached the beach, our clothes dried instantly. Percy told Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls. Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price. Not to mention Y/N is hated." "They were free." "No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait." On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea. With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. We showed the driver the Underworld address slip we'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?" "Uh ... I'm a stunt double ... for a lot of child actors." "Oh! That explains it." We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop. We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book. Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars. Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody

"—my stepdad, Smelly Gabe." He explained.

He was talking to Barbara Walters—I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand. A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it." "There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver. He has taken a young girl that goes by Y/N L/N with her." The screen cut to a grainy shot of me, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares. "Who are the two other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America." "C'mon," Grover told me. He hauled us away.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker. I don't scare easy. But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked. A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid. L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice. We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging. As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you." Like an idiot, I stopped. Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys. Instinctively, I drew my knife. When the knife appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.

Percy then pulled me behind him and swung Riptide. The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the..." I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed taking Percy's hand. We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner. "There!" Annabeth shouted. Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE. "Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated. It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside. "I think we lost them," Grover panted. A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?" We all jumped. Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to. His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them. "I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile. I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are. "Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing." "You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?" I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom. There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size. "This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O. "Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way. "Um," Percy said, "I don't think..." "Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool." "Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost." "Almost what?" I asked. He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit." Annabeth said, "But what—" He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her. "Hey!" she protested. Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!" Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down. "N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!" The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and Percy to grin. "Almost, darn it." I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec." "Let my friends go." "Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first." "What do you mean?" "All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit." Annabeth and Grover kept struggling. "Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!" A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends. "Don't worry," Crusty told us, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?" "Percy! Y/N!" Grover yelled. My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water-bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out. "Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" Percy asked. "Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted. "The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens. "Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that." "You're right. It's got a good ring to it." His eyes lit up. "You think so?" "Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

Percy looked at me weirdly. When I gave him a nod he must've understood. He got closer to hold my arm. Crusty grinned hugely, his fingers still didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?" "Not too many." "That's right!" "Y/N!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?" "Don't mind her," Percy told Procrustes. "She's impossible." The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting." "What do you do if they're longer than six feet?" "Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix." He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end." "Ah," Percy said, swallowing hard. "Sensible." "I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!" The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose. "So, Crusty..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?" "Absolutely. Try it out." "Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?" "Guaranteed." "No way." "Way." "Show me." He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?" I snapped my fingers. "Ergo." Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress. "Hey!" he yelled. "Center him just right," I said. The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom. "No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo." Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..." "You drive a hard bargain," he told us. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'" "I think I'll start with the top." Percy raised my sword. "No money down! No interest for six months!" He swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers. I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot. "You look taller," I said. "Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

Percy looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map. "Come on," Percy said. "Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'" "Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."

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[mrpenguinpants]

Oh lore?? I read your post on Dainsleif and BOY it gave me a lot to think about dsfjgkd

Along the same vein, what do you think of the relationship between the unknown god and Kaenri'ah? In Albedo's trailer they seemed to reference two new elements (time and being) and if perhaps the unknown god is the god of time, then does Khemia make use of "being" in its creation of life?

In Mihoyo's other game (honkai) they introduced a new "type" about halfway through the story which seems to me to be similar to the abyss in Genshin. The quanta type is independent of the three types that were present from the beginning of the game and it's tied to an abyss style region called the Sea of Quanta. Maybe I'm reading too much into it and they don't plan to imitate what they did in Honkai but?? Time and being as new "elements" introduced a few years into the game seems possible at least?? Maybe they're exclusive to delusions bc there's only the seven Archons at this time so no one can grant time/being visions lol

Djfkdj I hope this was at least slightly understandable I love looking into lore especially for things I write about!! I'll end this now before it gets too long lmao the new tumblr asks give me too much power XD

TUMBLR DELETED MY REPLY AHHHHH I HAD TO RE-WRITE EVERYTHING. THAT’S WHY I’M LATE TO THE PARTY. I’M SO SORRY CATTY 😭

---

Major spoilers for Khaenri’ah and minor spoilers for the unknown god

:DD I’m glad you read my word vomit haha. I love talking about lore so much, ty for enabling me. 

What do you think of the relationship between the unknown god and Khaenri’ah?

The logical side of my brain thinks:

They either have nothing to do with each other and Mihoyo really likes using the same star for everything and Khaenri’ah just happens to live in the void or sky so the easiest way to distinguish citizens from there is the star (or it was just hot to put star pupils in and you know what, they were right). 

Or there’s some sort of connection between the Eclipse dynasty that ruined Khaenri’ah and the unknown god. Since genshin really likes to do that (see Zhongli and everyone calling him Morax before 1.1 dropped). 

Re-watching the prologue cutscene and “we will be reunited” (Gonna refer to this a WWBR) Aether drew the same two stars into the sand which makes me believe that either a. stars literally have nothing to do with anything and Teyvat only knows how to draw one star (which doesn’t hold up well considering Mona’s outfit and pin) or b. there’s some kind of connection there. The way Paimon phrases her question she says: 

“But when you wanted to leave and go onto the next world your path was blocked by an unknown god?”

It implies that Aether and Lumine have already travelled through Teyvat since we see two yellow stars travel over Liyue and Mondstadt. I know Aether was sent into some sort of deep sleep and only now awoke and met Paimon (since in the trailer we can see the lantern festival and the genshin upload was in march (chinese new year is in feb) but I’m not super sure on these details but I’m pretty sure it’s canon that this happened based on WWBR). 

Then when the unknown god appears and the same 3 red stars appear [tumblr throws a fit when I try and upload this]

She refers to us as Outlanders and calls herself 

“The sustainer of heavenly principles. The arrogation of mankind ends now.”

This could be a reference to “being” that was in the Albedo trailer while Dainsleif is “time” since time is "not something he lacks". If we’re going on the theory that Dainsleif is actually a god then maybe they are fighting? Or in some type of push and pull war. It would make sense since the Unknown God believes in heavenly principles (so the rules either set by Celestia or Gods themselves) and believes mankind is arrogant and wishes to either destroy it or remove it entirely. The complete opposite of Dainsleif who believes in mankind and hates anything relating to the Archons.

Or dainsleif has nothing to do with the unknown god and is just a final challenge to the player who will then face off against the Unknown God. 

In Albedo's trailer they seemed to reference two new elements (time and being) and if perhaps the unknown god is the god of time, then does Khemia make use of "being" in its creation of life?

In this theory, this would make the Unknown God the god of time, which is also equally as valid. Since she does talk about time and how the arrogation of mankind ends now. I think it’s right to assume that Khemia makes use of being in its creation of life since we see Albedo talk about chalk and turning things from “nothing” (it’s not really nothing, he’s still using something or the “being” in order to transform it) to something. 

If Dainsleif uses Khemia or even created it then taught it to the people of Khaenri’ah to help them survive in their archonless land, that could be a valid reason why he believes in the strength of mankind. Since the unknown god’s power seems to consume the person trapped within (as we see in the prologue). Plus in WWBR we see first hand how destructive that power is. This could also be the time where Dainsleif lost faith or hated the celestial beings. 

---

In WWBR, according to the wiki it states that our sibling was taken to another point in time, in an unknown location. But this event leads the sibling (Lumine) to become the leader of the Abyss Order. 

Lumine says: 

“But until the abyss has engulfed the thrones, my war with destiny will see no end.”

Lumine seems to know about the archons and the abyss mages follow her so it’s safe to assume that the “abyss” she refers to is either something entirely new or the red blocks we see here. It seems as if she’s trying to change destiny which could be why Dainsleif wants to save her. 

I will say right now, I really hope the theory that Paimon is secretly the unknown god doesn’t come true. I know it’s funny and I would enjoy seeing our emergency food pull a turned table on us but unless there are more instances where it’s hinted or it’s handled really well I would not like it. I just finished a manga and I felt like I was watching 20M plot twists happen in the span of 3 pages. I would totally be okay if the unknown god and paimon were somehow related (I can understand that) but I unless it’s handed really well or as the story progresses and we get more info on paimon. it would just be really out of left field. I haven’t seen any theories on this and I honestly try and stay away from lore posts until I’ve finished mine because I feel that might make my ideas biased.

The “everything must be connected into some kind of plotline or I will make it a plotline” brain thinks:

Now, this is just be spit balling and making up my own headcanons with no lore to go off on. This is pure indulgent stuff with no research to back it up besides very loose threads. 

I’d like to believe that since the Eclipse Dynasty was the last dynasty before Khaenri’ah fell. That might be what is being depicting above in WWBR. Perhaps khemia backfired or the unknown god turned against the people for their arrogance (I’m not sure if people know the myth but in short terms, a giant stole fire to help the people who were cold. He was punished for going against the gods and saving the people, this could be similar to Dainsleif). 

Perhaps Lumine and Aether had stopped this event from happening and as they were about to leave, the unknown god appears and separates them for their arrogant actions against the Gods and sends Lumine back to the past. Without her brother she ended up failing in saving Khaenri’ah. Or, the image we see is actually the future and she goes back in time to try and prevent that event from occurring, still trying to beat destiny but this time in the future. 

Or another idea, Lumine has only seen the evil that’s depicted and hasn’t personally met any of the archons. We actually got to meet Venti and Zhongli so we obviously want to protect them from Lumine’s point of view, that might not be the same so she aligns with the abyss order that tries to control Dvalin. So her goal is to somehow defeat the archons and that could be why the Cyro archon is trying to collect them all in her war of peace. 

Honkai and quanta

It’s kinda funny but there’s no reliable wiki source for this sea of quanta like there is for genshin, or at least I couldn’t find anything. I think they might nod at certain things between the two but I think it’s totally fine to believe they might do some sort of crossover and take some inspiration. We have Mona who was able to read the stars and Scaramouche who said the sky was a giant hoax so I think time and being becoming new elements is very possible. But I don’t really know a lot about Honkai so I can’t really say too much about it haha. 

---

Yep no worries, it was fun talking about some more lore and if you have any more I’d love to hear them. Haha, honestly pop off I love getting long asks. As always, it’s nice seeing you again catty 💕💕

[maleficarfic]

Control

Pairing: The Darkling/Alina Starkov

Fandom: Shadow & Bone | The GrishaVerse

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, light bondage, sex magic, dirty talk

Summary: He was power crafted into flesh. But so was she.

Aleksander impresses the importance of control on Alina. She is a quick study.

On AO3: Link

They rode side by side, leaving the Little Palace and Os Alta behind them on a crisp, chilly day in late fall. Since the day at the well, he’d invited her out a handful of times—whenever he was at the Little Palace, he seemed to find an excuse to go riding with her.

Alina turned her eyes to the sky and wished he’d find an excuse to go riding with her. She probably hadn’t made it clear she was interested in him like that. After all, she’d dropped hints to Mal for years, but he never looked twice at her.

“Your lessons are progressing well?” Aleksander asked her, breaking the silence between them.

He rode like he was born for the saddle, all straight lines and confidence. He held the reins in one gloved hand, his other resting loosely in his lap.

With a sigh, Alina slouched in her saddle. She didn’t ride well at all—even without the comparison to him, she felt as uncomfortable on a horse as she did in her classes. She belonged in both places, but she fit wrong.

“Well enough.” She looked away from him, studying the passing trees with more interest than they deserved. “I can summon the light, at least.”

“Mmm.”

The sound of his agreement caressed the length of her spine. Her back arched, her shoulders rolling back, and when she glanced at him, she found him studying her.

“What?”

His brows lifted and he gave her a faint look of amusement. “You’ll need to do more than simply summon light at the Fete.”

Since she couldn’t scowl at the great General Kirigan, she dragged her eyes away from him and back to the trees just in time for them to give way to a broad meadow.

“Sometimes,” he said, “it helps to have a goal to work toward.”

He dismounted at the edge of the meadow, leading his horse toward a nearby post.

Head canted to the side, Alina followed and dismounted as well. “Why’s there a post here?”

“Old training field,” he replied, tying his horse and then hers.

“What’s here that will give me a goal?” She surveyed the field, barely managing to disguise her disbelief.

Aleksander gave her a dry look as he stepped around her, putting the horses at their backs. “Space.” He sounded incredibly amused by this, like he knew something she didn’t.

To be fair, he certainly did.

Frowning, she followed after him. “Why do we need this much space?”

The meadow was easy as big as the massive drive leading up to the Grand Palace. A critical examination of the meadow using all the skills she’d gained as a mapmaker told her they easily had the same area as a city block.

Aleksander stopped walking forward, and she stumbled to a halt half an inch away from his back.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You won’t see anything from there, Miss Starkov. Come—” She hoped the heat that washed through her at that word didn’t show on her face. “—and stand at my side.”

She joined him, watching him with curiosity.

He clasped his hands together behind his back.

Their shadows overflowed their boundaries, darkness welling up around their feet, their ankles. The sight of it no longer frightened her. Instead, he awed her as he brought his hands around his body, drawing more shadows from the distant edge of the meadow.

“Do you remember what I told you on our first ride to the Little Palace?”

Frankly, it was a blessing she’d forgotten the bulk of their terrifying flight across Ravka. At first, she’d dreamed of the Drüskelle’s death regularly. Had jolted awake from nightmares of his blood splashing her face all over again or, worse, the hand axe cracking into her skull. Now, the whole thing seemed like a lifetime ago.

Unsure if she should be embarrassed that she didn’t remember, she ducked her head. “No,” she answered honestly.

“The Cut,” he said, and her eyes jumped back to him.

She remembered that.

The Cut was a technique unique to Summoners, a shaping of power that required tremendous skill and concentration.

“I’ve seen the Cut,” she said, her voice low and soft. She didn’t know what might happen to all that power if she disrupted his concentration.

“So you have.” He held his hands before him, creating a crescent of writhing darkness in the air, holding the scythe-like edge.

Her eyes widened. To casually hold the power like that… how much power did Aleksander actually possess? What was the true extent of his abilities? She knew he was old, knew that meant he had considerably more power than the average Grisha, but—

“But we can do more with our power than just kill—than just destroy,” Aleksander said, a strange quality in his voice.

Darkness fell from his fingers in inky pools as he spread his hands wide, creating a plane of shadow. One of his hands slid beneath the darkness, as though supporting a tray, the fingers of his other hand danced over the plane, sculpting it slowly into a panorama.

Alina exhaled heavily with wonder, eyes wide as Aleksander made two forms out of shadow that walked together through a glade ringed by trees.

“We can create.” She felt his eyes on hers, but she couldn’t look away from what he’d crafted. “People think the small science has to be big.” His lips quirked, as if he found a joke in the small contradiction of his description.

Darkness collapsed on itself, folding into a small sphere no larger than a marble, but she felt the tremendous weight of it. Its gravity pulled her, and she stepped closer, enchanted by a kernel of midnight.

Aleksander turned his body toward hers. “The small science is small,” he said, his voice lowering. “It needn’t be a grand thing that overwhelms.” He lifted his hand between them, and she stared at the blackness, the emptiness, the void resting on the tips of his fingers. “Where is there shadow, Miss Starkov?”

Her eyes lifted to his. There was a lesson here, and she tried to divine the answer in the darkness of his eyes.

The corner of her lip quirked up.

Your eyes didn’t seem like an answer she could give him. “The night,” she said aloud.

“Think smaller. Where else is the darkness?” His eyes were fierce.

“Beneath the forest canopy.”

“Smaller still, Miss Starkov.”

She licked her lips. “In the space between you and me.”

Something shifted, an infinitesimally small change in his expression. There was darkness there, she thought. Darkness in his eyes.

“Smaller.”

“The hearts of men.”

“How philosophical.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “I—”

“You,” he interrupted, “are not wrong.” He spread his fingers wide, and the darkness stretched between them. “You find your piece of the science wherever you can. We are all things, Miss Starkov, that is the truth. And there is power in that.”

Lifting his other hand, he caught the strand of darkness and stretched it into a long, thin rope.

“And underpinning it all is control,” he said, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on hers. “The ability to exert your will on the world around you. If your power is everywhere, then you cannot be robbed of it.”

There was something important in that statement, but he gave her no time to pick through the labyrinth of his words.

“And if you can control it, you can never be overwhelmed.”

His hands turned in lazy circles, and she felt a coil of shadow against the inside of her wrist, cool as silk.

With a gasp, she lifted her hands as he drew them together, bound in a cord of darkness. She felt the pressure of another tendril of darkness against her throat, her waist, just below her knee.

Instead of feeling trapped, she felt a strange sort of liberation. If there was darkness in the hearts of men, there was also light, and his shadows were only so dark because her light shone so bright. He bound her in darkness, but she could destabilize his science with her own.

And that was power.

“Could I do this with light?” she asked him, studying her bound hands.

He caught his fingers beneath the knot of darkness, drawing her closer to him. He hadn’t hobbled her feet with his shadowy bindings, but she let herself fall against his chest.

His hand settled on her hip, holding her in place as he chuckled.

“Ah, Miss Starkov, how is it you so often surprise me?”

Since she’d arrived at the Little Palace, she’d thought of him often. At first, she’d been afraid of him. His reputation was as great and terrible as the Fold. He was solitary and given to isolation, they said, whoever they were, with exacting standards and little patience for mistakes. He was power crafted into flesh.

But so was she.

Now, when she thought of him, it wasn’t with fear. It was with respect—more respect than she’d had a moment before. And deeper, buried beneath the respect, was something else. Something hot and hungry, something full of craving.

Full of desire.

Lifting to her toes, her wrists still bound and her eyes on his, she pressed a tentative kiss against his mouth.

His eyes went wide and then drifted half closed, the hand on her hip curling into the heavy fabric of her kefta.

“Twice in as many minutes,” he murmured against her lips.

She shivered, finding the brush of his mouth against hers delicious. “I don’t think that was two minutes.”

“Are you suggesting I possess a poor sense of time?”

“Maybe.” Her lips curved in a faint smile. “Maybe you should release my hands and let me try this on you.”

His other hand found its way around the back of her neck, the tips of his fingers pushing into her hair to hold her close. The hand on her hip gripped her tighter, pulling her against the solid wall of his body.

She inhaled sharply, delighted and somewhat mystified by the sharp ache growing between her legs. She’d felt desire before, but it had always been a muted thing, easily set aside for the more pressing concerns of her own survival. Maybe she should be more concerned with her survival in this moment—he was dangerous, and to suggest he wasn’t was to believe a pretty lie—but all she wanted was to sink deeper into the feeling.

“You are Grisha.” Every word he spoke was like a kiss. Tingles spread from her lips to her jaw, along her scalp and down her spine. “Maybe you should practice your power.”

She hesitated. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

The hand on her hip curved to the small of her back. The heel of it pressed against her, urging her closer, and she was surprised to find there was still space between them, a space she quicky eliminated. Then his hand shifted lower, the tips of his fingers brushing over the swell of her ass.

Dark eyes watched her as his hand eased lower.

“Would you hold any part of yourself back from a lover?” he asked her, his voice low and rich and, Saints, she felt that sound. “Would you not use your hands to touch them?”

“Yes,” she breathed as his hand cupped her ass and tugged her flush against him. His arm kept her close, helped her maintain her balance.

“Would you not use your mouth to kiss them? To taste them?”

She swallowed hard, remembering all those times she’d imagined Aleksander’s mouth on hers. And on other parts of her.

“You’re imagining it now, aren’t you?”

She gasped as liquid darkness slipped over her arms. The bindings around her wrists stayed in place, but cool shadow drifted inside her sleeves and stroked over her skin. Tendrils of it, like so many cool fingers, dipped beneath her tunic and into her breeches.

Skin prickling with heat, she tried to tug her wrists apart.

“Where would you have me kiss you, Miss Starkov?”

“Alina,” she insisted.

“Alina,” he agreed, his voice a rough purr. “Will you dodge my question?”

She wasn’t sure she could answer his question. “I…”

He smiled and brushed his lips against her in the faintest caress.

Somehow, that devastated her more than any other sensation. She felt like she was falling even though he held her secure against his body.

“That wasn’t your original question,” she managed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You worry about control.” Shadow licked along her thighs, following the curve of her ass, and she gasped, arching into him. His eyes darkened, becoming pools of midnight and desire. “That, Alina, is why we practice.”

He drew his mouth along her jaw, urging her head back and into the palm of his hand. A shuddering breath rushed out of her, tinged with a quieted moan. The heat of his breath washed over her skin, along the column of her throat, and his teeth followed.

Gasping, she yanked again at her hands. “You’re distracting me.”

“You’re not trying.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as he nudged aside the collar of her kefta and sucked on her skin. A reedy sound caught in her throat. “I could hurt you.”

“You could.” He licked the hollow of her throat. “I don’t believe you will, Alina.” He drew away from her neck, his nose following the curve of her jaw again. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and his teeth caught the lobe. He tugged, and pleasure shot through her like lightning, ricocheting through her body.

And lightning was light and light was her power and she summoned it without thinking. Sunlight shattered the bonds on her wrists as she sank her hands into his hair and yanked him back to her mouth.

Hungry little moans spilled from her lips to his as she kissed him. His hand on her ass flexed, and she arched her back to press into his touch, which only served to have him yank her closer to him again—where she felt the beginnings of his desire against her stomach, even though the heavy layer of her kefta.

“Summon again,” he whispered against her mouth, his hand sweeping over her hip and to the front of her kefta. Fingers of flesh and darkness pulled open her belt and buttons.

She shrugged out of the heavy jacket, letting it fall to the ground as her fingers yanked at his silvery buttons. “I don’t want to.”

As he had, she kissed along the length of his jaw and then down the line of his throat, trying to imitate how he’d licked and sucked on her skin.

The sound he made when her teeth raked over his pulse made her shudder—and drew light to the tips of her fingers.

His fingers stroked down her sides, caught the white chemise tucked into her breeches, and pulled it free. Warm, human fingers caressed her over her stays alongside more cool, silky darkness, and she cried out against the skin of his throat.

“Summon for me, Alina. Show me your control.”

Control? She was supposed to be in control? Now?

Aleksander’s hands spread over her ribs, his thumbs brushing over her breasts through the fabric of her stays.

Burning tension drew through her.

Shadow sank beneath fabric. Two cool coils curled against her nipples, and she gasped.

“Banish the darkness, Alina.”

How was she supposed to find control when he purred her name like that? When he touched her like this, like no one else ever had? When she—Saints, the revelation crashed through her like a spring storm come down from Fjerda. “I don’t want to,” she gasped.

He went still against her, drawing back to peer into her face.

Heart pounding in her chest, she met his gaze, keenly aware that she was already half undressed, and if she tilted her head to the side, she’d see the tunic beneath his doublet and his skin behind that.

“What do you want?” he asked softly, quietly, as if the words might break the world.

She freed the final buckle of his doublet, danced her fingers up his chest, and loosened the laces at his throat. She licked her lips.

Beneath the confines of her skin, she burned, and fire, too, was light. She drew on that burn, on her own desire, and spooled a thread of it to the tips of her fingers. They glittered gold as she let them wander over his skin, her eyes lifting slowly to his.

Light spun off her fingers, reflecting in the darkness of his eyes. She felt it like an extension of her body, drifting over his skin.

Against her sides, his hands tightened. His pupils dilated as she watched, as her light twisted against his flesh like his shadows had against hers. One arch of light ran over his nipples beneath his clothes.

He surged against her, capturing her mouth in a devastating kiss.

Burying her fingers in his hair, she held his mouth to hers. Their tongues met, tangled, and delirious heat wound through her. More light spilled from her fingers, spinning around them both like ribbons.

Just as much as his hands, his shadows pulled at her clothes, loosening her stays, the cords of her breeches.

Cognizant that she’d be naked faster than him, her hands dropped to his shoulders and then lower. She pulled at his clothes, too, until he broke away from their kiss.

One hand cupped her jaw. His forehead rested against hers. “Where is your line?” he asked her.

Saints, she didn’t know. She’d never done this before, but she’d also never wanted someone’s mouth on her skin as much as she wanted his.

As if sensing her hesitation, he began to draw back—and she knew she didn’t want that.

So she ran her hands down his sides, his hips, his thighs as she went slowly to her knees.

His breathing turned ragged. The look in his eyes scorched her.

She knew enough about sex to know all the ways people could play with each other. She knew that all the ways she wanted his mouth on her, he could have her mouth on him.

Emboldened by the way he looked at her, she brushed her lips against the hard line of his cock through his breeches before she spread her kefta on the ground and leaned back on it. She pulled the laces on her breeches open, letting the front panel sag low on her belly, and met his gaze with trembling anticipation.

As if mesmerized, he knelt between her legs. When he leaned over her, she felt sheltered by the shadow of his form instead of caged. His hands pressed into her kefta above her shoulders, and he hovered above her.

“I want—I want to feel—what you said earlier,” she managed, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Not because she didn’t want him to touch her, to taste her, but because this was new, and she didn’t quite know what she was doing, and she worried about disappointing him.

The hot look in his gaze, the ragged cadence of his breath, all told her she probably didn’t need to worry about disappointing him.

“My mouth on you?” he asked.

She nodded.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto his forearms. His fingers threaded into her hair at her temples, and he kissed her slow and long, his mouth lingering on hers as though she were a treat to savor.

With a groan, she arched against the air, seeking the weight and comfort of his body and frustrated when she didn’t find it.

His tongue licked into her lips as he obliged her, settling against her.

She gasped into their kiss to feel him between her legs—she’d never thought too much about how she might feel the line of a man’s cock through his clothes and against her body, but, Saints, she adored it. The weight of him, the feel of him, filled her with a gnawing need.

“Is that all you want?” he asked her, each word its own kiss.

She licked her lips. Licked his lips. Gasped when that made him groan and roll his hips hard against hers.

Oh, but she liked that. Loved that. Sliding her palms down his back, she curved her hands over his ass and urged him to move like that against her again.

With a moan, her head fell back and her body arched in a sinuous line against his. More friction, more pleasure, and she lost his question in the labyrinth of fire his body created against hers.

“Alina.”

Her name on his lips only made her want more, only served to make her burn brighter.

“Alina.” He tipped her face back towards her, and she felt shadows on her legs again. The silky darkness curled around her calves, and she felt them release the buckles of her boots.

That. She needed to learn that.

“Tell me, Alina. Do you want more than my mouth on you?” The mouth in question drifted against her cheek, the whiskers of his beard a delicious rasp against her skin. “Do you want my shadows on your naked skin?”

“Yes,” she gasped, driving her fingers beneath his tunic. Grateful, she was so grateful men didn’t wear stays, because the thought of having to get through more fabric to feel his skin beneath her palms was abhorrent.

“Do you want to feel those shadows inside you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear. He timed that question with a slow, languid roll of his hips against hers so she couldn’t mistake his meaning.

And she didn’t. Her nails curled into his skin, pulling a hiss that dissolved into a wicked chuckle from him. “Yes. And—and then—”

“And then?” he prompted, when she didn’t finish.

Her teeth caught her lower lip. Talking about this seemed strange, but she liked it. It was difficult to put all these secret desires into words, but when she did, those words made her burn. Made her ache. Speaking her desires aloud only made her want them more.

“And then you.” She turned her head, her mouth stroking lightly against his cheek as he groaned and rocked against her again. “I want to feel you inside me, Aleksander.” He trembled against her, and she ached with pleasure. As much as he could unmake her like this, she had the power to do the same to him. “With your shadows around my wrists.”

She didn’t know what to make of the sound that escaped him, but then he kissed her with such a savage hunger, she realized she didn’t care. He liked the idea, and she burned for it.

Shadows and hands stripped her of her clothes. He held her back in an arch as inky darkness took her shirt; his mouth smoothed over her chest as pale hands pushed her stays off her shoulders.

He didn’t pause to draw back and stare at her. Instead, his tongue traced an ever-tightening circle around her breasts before he reached her nipple. He sucked the little nub between his lips as she cried out his name. His thumb dragged back and forth over the other as shadows pulled off and discarded her boots.

Thinking around the wet heat of his mouth proved nearly impossible, but she did manage to create thin, wavering tendrils of light. The heat from her light kept her from shivering—though she thought the heat from their bodies and desire would work just as well—and made him arch and twist against her body in the most delicious ways. Still, she couldn’t strip him naked as he’d stripped her, and she wanted to. Saints, she wanted to. Wanted to use her power the way he did.

“You’ll learn,” he murmured against her underside of her breast.

“Now you’re content with letting me take my time?”

He grinned at her, and that grin made him seem so much younger than he was. “Never.”

Shifting away from her, he settled on his knees between her legs, both of them shirtless. His gaze drifted over her body, and the heat in his eyes made her squirm.

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he muttered a coarse oath. “Watching you move—” He broke off, running his hands up her thighs. One of those hands curved inward, and now his eyes fixed on hers.

Curled knuckles brushed against her breeches.

She let out a shuddering little sigh and rocked toward his hand. “Please,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks flame.

Aleksander’s knuckles brushed against her cunt through the fabric of her pants.

Alina frowned.

He burst out laughing, leaning over her again. “That’s not the look you want to see on your lover’s face.” He kissed her, and she felt his hand shift, felt his palm cup her. The heel of his hand pressed against her pubic bone, and the frown melted into a wide-eyed look of delight. Of awe.

“That,” she gasped.

“Good?”

Her hips twisted, her body moving to push his hand to the right place. She’d touched herself, she knew what she wanted to feel, knew—

A keening moan fell from her lips, and he devoured the sound with a greedy kiss

His hand rocked against her, finding a rhythm with her, until she burned beneath him and mewls of pleasure became broken pleas for more.

“I promised you my mouth,” he reminded her as she carded her fingers in his hair to hold his lips against hers for more of those kisses.

Torn between two wants, she groaned. “Didn’t think this would be so hard,” she groused.

His brow arched.

“I want everything all at once.”

A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Stay still,” he told her, resting his forehead on hers again. His hand shifted away from her cunt, petting up and down her side as he closed his eyes.

She watched him, curious—and then she felt it. The swell of power, a cresting rise of cool shadow sliding over her belly. It shifted and rolled, shaping with his will into—

Alina jerked when a cool mouth brushed between her legs beneath the fabric of her pants.

Above her, Aleksander’s eyes opened. “Not too strange?” he asked as those cool lips kissed her thighs, her clit. As they kissed her entrance—as a cool tongue flicked against her.

She jerked again, her hips arching against his. She writhed, seeking the weight of his body between her legs and getting only the delicious torment of ephemeral shadow.

“Intoxicating.” His thumbs brushed over her lips as she twisted and arched beneath him, her eyes fluttering shut so she could focus on the feeling, the building pressure and pleasure and heat.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, clutching him against her body as she sucked one of his thumbs between her lips. She needed something, some kind of action to help alleviate the tension inside her. Instead, grasping him close and sucking on him only made her ache more, only made her burn brighter.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.” The dark timbre of his voice shook her. The cool touch of the tongue between her legs made her keen.

That shadow tongue curled around her clit and she sobbed his name.

“Fuck, Alina.”

The coarse language should have offended her. Instead, it inflamed her.

“Not enough,” he muttered, and one tongue of shadow became two.

The first continued flicking back and forth over her clit. The other thrust into her entrance, and her back bowed beneath him.

“Still not enough.”

His hand smoothed over her belly as she turned her face against his neck. Her hips worked hard against his shadows, shadows that continued to torment her when his hand slipped beneath her pants and cupped her.

The heat of his touch snapped the tension coiling inside her.

She came with a broken sob, her nails raking down his back. Pleasure overwhelmed her, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t quite the feeling she craved. There was no weight to the mouths on her, and nothing of him was inside her.

“Please,” she gasped, trembling beneath him. “You promised.”

“I did.”

Aleksander slid down the length of her body, those shadow mouths continuing their sweet torment as more tendrils of darkness pulled her pants down her legs. She kicked them aside, and he slid his hands beneath her ass, lifting her off her kefta.

She thought she should be embarrassed when his eyes landed on her naked cunt, slick with her orgasm, but those mouths never stopped tasting her, never stopped tormenting her. It almost felt like too much.

Then his mouth, his hot, wet, hungry mouth descended on her, and she realized she’d been very fucking wrong.

Alina’s fingers dove into his hair. She heard herself beg for more as his lips closed around her clit and sucked, as shadow mouths wrapped around her nipples and tormented her entrance. One hand yanked away from his hair to drive through her own. She didn’t know what to do with herself, what part of his body or hers to touch, how to alleviate the wicked, demanding ache he created once more inside her.

And then, as his tongue flicked against her clit, painting strange patterns on her flesh that made her keen his name, ephemeral shadow became somehow solid. It pushed into her, parting slick folds to fill her, and she knew without any doubt that otkazat’sya men would never be able to give her what she’d crave with sex because she’d always want this—this slick, wicked science, this combination of magic and flesh.

He must have remembered what she’d said to him, because as her hands wandered through his hair, over his shoulders, over her own breasts, shadow coiled around them. Darkness tethered her wrists, pinning them together over her head.

With no outlet, all she could do was feel. Wet heat. Cool silk. Insistent tugs of his mouth, the hot flick of his tongue. She sobbed his name, and the darkness swirled inside her cunt, filling her with power. It dragged along tender flesh, stroking her as he withdrew it, and filled her with a raging fire when he pushed it back into her.

She came a ragged cry, her hips arching against his mouth, against the shadows that filled her.

He grasped her hips and drew himself up her body. His mouth crashed against hers in a brutal kiss. She drowned in it, in sensation, in wet and wicked heat as his fingers petted between her legs and her cunt rippled and clenched around the darkness still inside her.

“You’re delicious,” he whispered against her mouth as she writhed beneath him, twisting against the shadows tethering her arms and against his body above hers. “You still want me—”

Her eyes snapped open and met his. “If you don’t give me what I want, I will learn the Cut just to use it on you.”

That didn’t motivate him, but it did make him lick at her lips. “What do you want, Alina?”

She groaned, her heels scrabbling over the rough grass, her hips arching into his stroking fingers.

“Do you want me inside you?” The murmured words were decadent against her lips, better than any sweet she’d ever eaten. “Do you want my cock stretching your sweet cunt open?” Two fingers slid inside her, the heat of him replacing the cool darkness, and she cried out with delicious shock. How good his fingers felt, burning hot by comparison to his shadows. “Do you want me to fill you until you can’t take anymore? To grind myself against you until you’re begging for me to move?”

She had no idea how good the fantasy he painted might actually feel, but her body certainly wanted it. She felt her cunt squeeze around his fingers, an involuntary contraction that made her moan.

He shifted over her, drawing his fingers out of her. She dragged her eyes open to watch him pull back and strip off his pants. Had just enough time to see his cock, hard and flushed, before he leaned back over her. The head of it nudged against her entrance, his fingers playing once more against her cunt—as much to torment her, she was sure, as to guide his cock into her.

But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he lingered at her entrance, and the tease was unbearable.

“Please,” she gasped, arching, twisting, yanking hard against the shadows that pinned her arms above her head.

He gave her the most infuriating smile—lopsided, smug. “We came here for a lesson,” he reminded her, bending his lips to her chest. He nipped her skin at the swell of one breast, making her jump beneath him, only to soothe the sting with a long stroke of his tongue. Still his cock nudged her entrance but didn’t push into her. “Call the light, Alina.”

For the first time, summoning was easy. She burned, she ached, her skin stretched tight over the swell of glittering pleasure, and that was all her power. She drew it through her body from her hands, and it sparkled over her arms and down her chest, casting scintillating patterns on his skin.

“Collect it, shape it,” he murmured. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

Show him? The fact that she could summon while he drove her out of her mind should have been enough, but of course he’d expect more from her.

“Come now, Alina.” Fuck him for that phrasing. “Impress me.”

She shuddered beneath him, trying to separate herself from the pleasure he’d coaxed through her so far. She couldn’t, not entirely—she didn’t want to—but she found a quiet place in her mind where the pleasure was warm and soft instead of an inferno, and in that space she urged it into a shape.

Light formed into a tongue, and she ran it from the base of his cock to the tip.

He arched sharp against her with a curse, burying himself in her cunt in a single stroke, and Alina moaned his name as she arched beneath him. Full, she felt so delicious full, and though there was a slight discomfort in the first second, that faded a moment later when her cunt rippled around him.

A different sort of pleasure spread through her, and she purred.

Her eyes opened. He stared down at her, his expression the most delicious combination of aroused and surprised and delighted. A lopsided, smug smile spread across her lips, a mirror of his from earlier.

“Impress me,” she said.

With a ragged chuckle, he bent his mouth to hers. “With pleasure, solnishko.”

He drew back slowly, and she sighed with pleasure. He thrust back into her, her hips arching to meet him, and she moaned. As he found an easy pace with her, she let herself down in the sweet friction.

The bonds around her wrist stretched. Fingers twined around her own, and she held them tight as he fucked her in long, easy strokes. Each time he pushed into her, her back bowed, and her body softened more.

She lost herself in their back and forth, content to float in the warmth of their shared pleasure. But he didn’t let her for long. His lips brushed against her ear. “Once more for me,” he told her.

She recognized the warning in those words a moment later when shadow tongues licked against her clit.

Electric pleasure strung her tight. Now, she clutched at the shadow hands holding her own as silky darkness licked her, as cool fingers stroked the swollen lips of her cunt. He played with her, layering her pleasures until she gasped his name and begged for him. Only then did he replace one shadow hand with his own and the shadows between her legs with his fingers.

The heat of him ruined her, shattered her. She came with his name on her lips, and he followed her mere seconds later, his body shuddering over hers.

They lay together, panting, for a long moment. Then he drew back, the cool shadows retreating as his cock slipped out of her body. Instead of pulling away entirely, he settled at her side, giving her most of the kefta.

She turned toward him, her fingers brushing over his jaw, his lips, his shoulders. “Are all your lessons in control going to turn out like this?” she asked him.

He made a thoughtful expression.

Scooting closer, Alina pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’ve an idea for another lesson if you don’t.”

His brow arched. “Do you?”

“I want to try binding your wrists with light.” Interest flashed in his eyes, and she smiled. “I want to push you into your chair in the war room and bind your hands to its arms. Then I want to climb onto you and ride you.”

He stared at her, the look on his face equal parts aroused and bewildered. “You—”

“I grew up near farms,” she reminded him. “And then joined the military. Believe me: I have plenty of ideas for lessons.”

“You think you can keep control long enough to keep me bound to that chair?” he asked, a wicked growl in his voice.

Her body responded to that tone with a wash of pleasure, and she found herself hungry for more of him even though they’d just finished. Part of her wondered if that was normal—and she got her answer when he rolled her beneath him.

“The minute your control breaks, solnishko, I’m going to put you on your back on that table and fuck you until your screams summon the guards at a run.”

Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Alina grinned. “Maybe I’ll make you beg for that.”

With his face buried in her neck, he laughed. “I hope you do.”