#Faraway Fun city

[sunnyroleplayblog]

i wish you good luck on your visit!

thanks.

that..just reminded me that i haven’t even made plans on who’s house i’ll stay in, oops..

oh well, probably kel and hero to be honest.

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[catsushizz]

Let Time Pass - S.R

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: you reminisce about the time when you met Spencer Reid at college and had a night of adventure that you'll never forget, but after that, you never spoke, until Penelope Garcia found your unsent letters and decided to play the savior of your undying love.

Genre: mutual pining, angst if you squint, but mostly fluff

WC: 3.2k

Warning: kissing, cursing, invading private property

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, actually, guess the rom-com that inspired me to write this. I'll give you a hint, the first movie has "sunrise" in the title and the second movie includes unsent letters with addresses hehe.

---

Summer rain has always been your favorite accompanied by the sound of the patter of the raindrops. You looked outside your window with a faraway look, your glasses now above your hair as you took a break from reading the unsent letters.

Unsent letters you wrote when you were in college, being in love with someone for so long who you're not sure still remembers you can be draining, you've loved him since the first time he acknowledged your presence during class and when he took you out of campus when it was just the two of you.

Love comes in forms and somehow Spencer's was when he first spewed those few words to you when you were talking to your friends but they weren't paying attention so you stopped and just sat there embarrassed.

"Wasn't Centralia a town that is still burning to this day?" He had asked and your eyes held the universe at his question. You got his name, Spencer Reid and that name hasn't left your mind ever since then.

Love comes in forms and yours are letters.

After that night, you never spoke again, he got his Ph.Ds and life got in the way. You're pretty sure he doesn't remember you, and you're sure he's got his way with life now, maybe he settled down and you're still pining for a man who you're not sure still remembers you.

You remembered how the night went with him, you actually talked until sunrise. At first, you walked around campus and then explored the city together. He told you about his mom, his goals, everything he hasn't said to anyone, and you told him about everything, your secrets that you haven't said to your best friend yet.

You sighed as you shook yourself out of your reverie, you looked down at your letter and traced the dust off from your neatly written letter.

the letter was a year old, you used to write letters every day when you first met him but when you graduated you never stopped but it became less frequent as time passed. Now you write one letter every year and put it inside a box but this time you decide to stop, finally stop chasing your fantasies and let life slap you in the face.

You laughed at your ridiculousness then you heard the door creek and your gaze landed on your best friend. "Hi Pen" you smiled at her.

Penelope's gaze landed on the box in your hand "What's that?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your couch engulfing her in a tight hug "Stop being nosy and when did you arrive?"

She groaned at the contact "50 minutes ago" you laughed and let go of her.

"were you stuck in a conversation with Mom?" She nodded and let her gaze drift off to the box again.

"Seriously, is that your box from college? You never let me touch it and can you please let me see it, I'm older than you, in case you forgot" she insisted as she made the gesture of getting it out of your grasp.

You smacked her in her arms and hissed "No, and you'll never touch this, I don't care how old you are" You glared at her but it held no threat.

"Fine, dinner is ready your Mom asked me to get you" she grumbled and you let out a huff of amusement.

Penelope was never nosy when it came to you but it's been years since you've ever been with someone and she had a hunch that the box had something to do with it.

"Go on ahead I'm going to change in the bathroom," Penelope said straight up lying in front of your face. You didn't question it as it seems believable, perks of working with profilers.

You only hummed and you made a mistake by putting the box inside your closet without locking it. As soon as you left Penelope got out of the bathroom and searched for your box which wasn't hard to find.

She made sure you were completely out of sight before opening it, she didn't know what she expected but surely it wasn't this. Her jaw went slack as she read through your letters from when you were in college until last year, some were long and some were short, with dates in the corner of each letter.

Spencer Reid, her Mighty professor, Her boy genius.

You stopped, why did you stop? She thought while she read through the recent content. She had to do something about it, she had to help you.

Penelope breathed in, fixed her hair in the mirror, and got out of the room, pretending as if she hadn't shoved a box inside her bag and invaded her best friend's privacy, she's doing it for you so it can't be that bad right?

You were laughing at something your dad said but stopped when you saw how unsettled Penelope was "Pen what's wrong?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Now she felt guilty, she felt like throwing up but this was for you. "Nothing, I- I just uh, need to go I feel like I forgot something at home" she stammered as she made her way to the door.

"What? Let me drive you home" You stood up from your seat, your mom and dad looking between you two with suspicion in their eyes.

"No!" Penelope abruptly exclaimed, her hand flailing around for you to stop, making you and your parents flinch at the volume of her voice.

She cleared her throat and pushed her bag away from sight which didn't go unnoticed by you "I can drive myself and besides I got something to drop off at a friend's house" she chuckled awkwardly.

You hesitantly sat back down and nodded "Okay... Call me when you get home" You smiled at her and she nodded. She didn't change her clothes but you thought none of it, maybe that was the thing that she forgot.

---

Spencer was lounging on his couch when he heard the loudest knock he had ever heard in his entire life. His brows knitted together as he peeped at the peephole of his door before opening it.

"Garcia?" He mumbled while looking at the frantic girl in front of him, if he didn't know any better she would've murdered someone but that was just a silly thought.

Penelope pushed Spencer inside urgently and pushed a box against his chest, he had to balance himself at the force.

"What's this?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. Penelope sighed and she sat down on the couch with her hand on her face.

"Do you remember a girl in college?" She muttered, her voice barely visible but he heard her.

"You need to be more specific than that, Penelope" Spencer said and pursed his lips as he put the box on the table and sat down beside her.

Penelope frowned as she looked at Spencer "A girl who you spoke to once and never heard from ever again" she said, her body fully facing him.

She noticed his expression doesn't change and she groaned "For a person who has an eidetic memory, you're shit at remembering" she grumbled.

Spencer looked offended "What?! You're the one talking about a girl without context, do you know how many people I spoke to at college? 80% of those people-" Penelope clicked her tongue and signaled for him to stop.

She took the box from the table and pushed it back to his chest which made him glare at her, she ignored him.

"Open it" she demanded. Spencer studied her tense figure and the way she was trying to hug herself to make herself feel better.

"I feel like you stole something that isn't yours-" he said but found himself being cut off by Penelope's hissed.

"Stop profiling me and open the damn box" she whined as she stood up from the couch and paced around his apartment.

Spencer shook his head as he finally opened the box. He looked at Penelope in confusion and when he saw it was a bunch of old letters.

"Whose this for?" He questioned.

"For you, obviously! I wouldn't have brought it to you if it weren't addressed to you" she exclaimed.

"But there isn't any address on these" he shuffled through the letters, they were still in the envelopes.

"Just read it!"

"Garcia, you do know you just invaded someone's privacy right?"

"I know, just read it. Please?"

Spencer sighed and nodded his head. He started on the first letter that was technically open and he let his gaze back to Garcia who was now sweating in guilt.

When he opened it, he felt his heart beginning to thump. Garcia watched him carefully as she noticed his expression gradually changed.

Dear, Spencer Reid

Do you remember when you first talked to me? I remember thinking that you're the kind of man I'm willing to put my life at risk for. I'm sure you endured me rambling about the burning town (that is still burning to this day apparently and it's been 7 years since we last spoke)

But what I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with you, pathetic I know. But I just can't seem to let you go, you're like impossible not to remember and each day I try to forget about you and move past my ability to love so deeply but I can't.

Do you remember when you talked to me about your mom? I was so proud of you for coming up that far for your mom, and when we sneaked in on a bar and actually stole a bottle of wine? I couldn't stop laughing that time. God, I keep recalling that memory.

I shared all of my thoughts with you, spilled all my secrets to you, and at some point we held hands and I was so shocked because you told me you had a thing with germs. Honestly, it made me feel special.

I'm scared that if I see you again you'll think I'm weird and obsessive, which I'm not! I can stomach a rejection and I'll completely leave you alone if you ask me to. I'm just really bad at letting people go you know?

But I won't drag this on for long, you're not gonna see this anyway, and one last thing, I hope you have the best life the universe has to offer. I'll talk to them face to face if they are mean to you.

This will be my last letter, I'm letting you go now. I've been so in love with you that I feel like I'll be stuck in a loophole where life is trying to berate me every time for not saying anything to you, for not congratulating you when you graduated because I was feeling too shy to approach you that day. I wish I had, then maybe we could've talked more and had the time of our lives and maybe a repeat of what we did when we first met.

I'm just hoping life is a little bit gentler with you this time.

Yours truly

The girl who you talked to until sunrise

When he finished reading the letter he was silent for a good 3 minutes, and then he started shuffling through the letters and read them all like a madman. Penelope had to stop herself from stopping him.

God did he remember you, fucking hell he remembers you. You've been on his mind for 8 years. He even found himself in tears, he didn't expect someone to love him this much. Yearn for him like he yearns for you.

Spencer wasn't the type of guy who got over things easily and he had come to accept it as a part of him, the pair of you spoke once yet he can't deny the spark he felt while talking to you. If it were anybody else he would've found a way to get out of the conversation but your voice was addicting and so was your ramble about the old town.

He even went as far as to pretend not to know about the things that happened within that town just so he could hear your voice a little while longer. Your conversation shifted as time passed and Spencer found himself talking about anything really, he even made jokes that you found funny and he couldn't ignore the flutter in his stomach when he saw you smile.

When he saw you under the first light of the day, he felt himself fall in love, even if the time was fleeting his love wasn't, it never was.

Every time he was on death's door, you were always the subject of his memories. He keeps recalling the night when he felt like the universe was in his favor only for it to laugh at his face when he didn't see you again.

"I can help you, she's at the bar right now, she texted me," Penelope said, snapping him back down on earth.

He wiped a stray tear and sniffled "No, it's too late, she stopped writing like a year ago" he muttered and Penelope noticed the pain in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, I know her, she could be writing a letter right now as we speak" Penelope laughed.

"At a bar?"

"It was a joke, Spencer. Now let's go get your girl, Prince Charming!" She grinned as she dug through her bag for her keys.

"I don't know... I feel like I'm just digging my own grave, Garcia. I can't bear to hear her say that she doesn't feel the same way anymore" He whispered, his voice small as he avoided Penelope's disapproving look.

"That girl watches rom-coms, Spence. Do you think she'll brush off her feelings that easily? Try watching Serendipity and come back to me and try again but right now we need to hurry" She grabbed his arms and dragged him out of his apartment.

She stopped when they got into her car "Promise me you won't tell her I gave you the letter" she said sternly.

"But how am I supposed to explain why I'm there?" He asked confused.

"You're a genius, figure it out," she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

---

You were sitting in a booth with your friends. After having dinner with your parents, your friends invited you to a bar where you felt inclined to come, but you didn't know how to decline.

The air was suffocating so you excused yourself and got out of the bar. You sigh as your gaze shifts to the sky, Spencer would've pointed you to the constellation that was present right now.

"The one you're looking at right now is Aquila" You whipped your head to the familiar voice and you heard yourself gasp.

Spencer smiled when your eyes met "The brightest star in the constellation is Altair" he said as he began walking towards you.

"There is a story of an old Chinese legend about two stars, Altair and Vega, In the story two people met and fell in love but were separated by the stars" he was now in front of you, his hands in his pajama pocket, he turned red as he realized what he was wearing.

"What are you doing here?" You said, at a loss for words. He looked different but not in a bad way. He looked good. Hot even.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, he always knew you were beautiful but God, you are gorgeous now.

You averted your gaze when you noticed a figure in the distance then your blood ran cold when you saw Penelope, Spencer noticed.

"Don't be mad at her, she helped me find you" he defended urgently as he grabbed your arms. You knitted your brows together.

"How d- did you two meet?" You stammered.

"We worked together" he rubbed his nape, a nervous tick that you notice.

Spencer was so sure he knew what to say to you but now that you're actually in front of him, he was left speechless.

"I never told her about you- did you read the letters?!" You exclaimed, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Spencer looked guilty as he averted his gaze to the ground "Yes..." He trailed off.

"God, you must think I'm crazy" you grumbled as you kept fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

"Hey, I don't think you're crazy" he whispered as he cupped your face with his hand "I actually find it endearing that you still think of me to this day, and just so you know you haven't left my mind either" he softly said, his face was so close you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks.

He tucks a stray hair out of your face, his eyes holding adoration as he meets your eyes again "Really?" You whispered.

His eyes darted to your lips and he felt himself subconsciously lick his lips "Yeah" he muttered.

He brushed his lips against yours as if testing the waters and when you fluttered your eyes shut, he kissed you as if he was going to devour you.

He breathed in as he kissed you, a certain longing lingered in the air. He pulled away to take a breath but then you surged forward and connected your lips against him for the second time, his hand on your waist as he pushed you closer against him, your hand snaking its way to the hair on his nape as you tugged him closer making him groaned in the kiss.

He tugged on your bottom lip asking for permission which you granted and he slid his tongue in, you tasted so sweet he found himself starting to get addicted. You were a panting mess when both of you separated, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes still closed as you took deep breaths.

Spencer rubbed his nose against yours affectionately and you giggled "You know you'll be stuck with me for a long time right?" You muttered.

"Make it forever" he grins, he connects his lips back to you but this time it is softer than the first, you kiss him back as you both fall in a rhythm.

When you pulled back he chased your lips and that made you chuckle "I'm still mad at her for stealing my letters" you muttered.

"Don't be, please. She's the reason I get to see you again" he said as he pulled you in a hug, your head resting against his chest as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

"And I can't believe you were about to give up on me" Spencer joked lightly and you poked him on his hip making him jolt in surprise.

"Hey! Not fair, what was I supposed to do?" You whined and he laughed.

"to make it seem fair" he looks down on you as you meet his gaze, still in his warm embrace "I wrote about you in my journal, all my journals are full of you" he smiled.

You gasp "what? Let me read it please? you've read my letters" you pleaded.

He hummed "Nope, come on Penelope's waiting in the car" he said as he leads you to Penelope's car with his hand on your back.

"That's totally unfair, but I will snoop around"

"No, you won't"

"You snooped on my letters without my permission, so it's right that I should too," you said smugly.

"Shouldn't you be doing that to Penelope?"

"Oh yeah, let's do it"

-----

Please interact and reblog my post if you like it, it makes me happy hehe :D

The divider is from @cafekitsune :)

[revasserium]

loving you was red

sylus; 4,627 words; fluff, banter, no "y/n", mild spoilers for sylus's main storyline, subtle but not so subtle flirting, nicknames (kitten, little crow), kinda enemies to lovers

summary: the beginning of everything, all in shades of red

a/n: this was supposed to be fun lil drabble; alas, that's not what it turned out to be, but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. i had fun with the banter in this one u__u

001. fire and brimstone

The city below is a shatter of broken stars, and from up this high, none of it seems real. You cannot reconcile the sight of all those scattered, pinpoints of light with the lives you know shine behind them. You cannot imagine sitting in your living room, scrolling through your news-feed, waiting for the water to boil for late night ramen.

“Trouble sleeping?”

You congratulate yourself on not wincing, on keeping perfectly still.

Sylus joins you by the window, his arms looped lazily in front of his chest, his dark silk robe falling open to reveal his chest. You keep your eyes resolutely on the technicolored skyline.

“Yeah,” you say, feigning a yawn, “just something about being held captive against my will that just… messes with my circadian rhythm, y’know?”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through him, low enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t tell a girl like you still needs someone to sing her to sleep.” He’s teasing. You know he is, and yet you can’t keep the heat from clawing up the back of your neck. You scowl, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

“What gives you that idea?” you ask, still in your flailing attempt to seem calm, seem collected.

"Nothing in particular… just… the twins found a shocking number of plushies in your room so —”

"You had them go through my stuff?” you round on him, glaring, your fingers clenched into fists.

Sylus shrugs, peering at you out the corner of his eye, an amused grin ticking at his mouth.

“Feisty little kitten, aren’t you? Though for what it’s worth — they didn’t find much on how your Evol works.”

You huff, turning back to the floor to ceiling windows, knitting your arms tightly across your chest.

“You heard the shopkeeper — we have to — to…” you trail off, the words caught in the back of your throat like peach pits, hard and large and impossible to stomach. You flush, biting down on your lips.

“To what, hm?” Sylus sounds amused, and it’s this more than anything that spurs you onwards.

You turn to glare at him, “To not hate each other!”

Sylus cocks a single, arched brow.

“So, do you?”

You blink, feeling the ever-present heat prickling into your cheeks as you stare resolutely at the skyline outside. From this distance, Linkon City could be any other city, with it’s towering skyscrapers and twinkling lights.

“Do I what?” you ask, your voice softer as you try to pinpoint the exact location of where you used to live.

“Hate me.”

You turn; in the dimness, all you can see of Sylus is his firebrand eyes and his stone-cut features. The dark curve of his mouth and the sharp jut of his nose. When he turns to meet your gaze, you can barely stifle your gasp — his eyes are so red, so deep and strange.

“Brimstone…” you say, without really thinking about it.

Confusion flickers across his vulturine features.

“Hm?”

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness that had since collected there.

“Brimstone,” you say again, shaking your head and averting your eyes, only for Sylus to catch your chin in his fingers and force you to look back at him, to be swallowed up by his gaze, “it’s… something from… the ancient religions. It’s — back when they believed in gods and monsters, people would use the word brimstone to signify divine wrath…”

His finger slacken on your chin and you let your head fall as he takes half a step away.

He lets out a mirthless laugh, his eyes faraway as he stares out at Linkon City, laid out before his feet.

“I can’t say I know much about gods, but… monsters?”

You swallow, feeling the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

He turns back to look at you, his gaze soft, but no less startling. You feel an unnamable fire frisson up your spine and skitter back down again.

“Monsters are very, very real,” he leans in, closing gap between your body and his, till he has you nearly caged against the cool glass of the penthouse windows. He shifts to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with too-gentle fingers. His next words are whispered, his voice in a register so low it almost sounds like the shadow of sound — he leans in, his lips brushing by your cheek till you can feel the heat of his breath right next to your ear —

“And they look just like you and me.”

002. lipstick

“So at the auction —”

“Just do as I say, and you’ll get what you want.”

You narrow your eyes in the mirror, staring at the reflection of Sylus fastening a pair of ornate silver cufflinks to his impeccably tailored suit.

“Give me one reason to trust you,” you say.

Sylus looks up, a hand still on his cuffs as he meets your gaze in the mirror, unflinching.

“Since when have I ever asked you to trust me?”

Over on the dresser, Mephisto lets out a soft caw that sounds almost mocking. You swirl to glare at him and he has the decency to flap his mechanical wings, shuffling until he’s hidden from view behind Sylus’s shadow.

Sylus laughs, “Alright — settle down, little crow.”

You frown, “Little crow? What happened to kitten?”

Sylus shrugs, “Changed my mind. Figured little crow fits you a bit better. You know — loud, defiant…” he smirks as his voice trails off.

You don’t try to hide your consternation, “Often associated with murder?”

Behind him, Mephisto lets out an indignant ca-caw.

You try to sidestep Sylus, only to find yourself trapped against the mirror by his strong arms. He grins down at you, his canines flashing over his lower lip as he cocks his head.

“Like I said, fits better, no?” he asks.

You stare up at him, trying to make out what he’s thinking behind those firelight eyes of his.

“Let me go — I still need to finish my makeup,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest. You try not to think about the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch, or the heat of his skin, even through all these layers of clothing.

“What else is there?” he asks, his eyes flickering over your features; you shiver, feeling the weight of his gaze as it sweeps over your face like a sudden flare of heat, “you look pretty finished to me.”

You lick your lips, and feel a strange, savage satisfaction at the tick of his eyes down to your mouth, at the way his pupils dilate, at how they track the slow progress of your tongue as it laves across your bottom lip before disappearing back into your mouth.

“Lipstick,” you say, trying not to sound too smug.

Sylus puffs out a laugh before reaching over to the low dressing table and grabbing a tube of lipstick. He uncaps it with a finger, and twists out the color without once breaking your gaze. Vaguely, you feel your stomach tense, and you ponder the unfairness of this one, single act — how could he look so stupidly attractive doing all this when he’s got you trapped here? Like some sort of exotic songbird in a golden cage.

“T-that’s not the color I wanted —” you say, but even to your own ears, you don’t sound convincing.

Sylus’s smile slackens into a lopsided smirk as he tilts your chin up to press the cream of the lipstick to your lips, dragging it delicately across one way, then back the other.

“Press your lips,” he says, his voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You do, feeling a stifling thump-thump-thump rise up to beat against the back of your throat as his eyes flick down to watch you.

“Mm… as I thought, this color looks great on you,” he says, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

You feel the air rush back into your lungs in a single, searing breath, caught between the urge to brace your arms against your knees and heave, or to drag your hand across your mouth to rid yourself of the lipstick.

You do neither though, because at that moment, the twins call from outside the door —

“Auction’s about to start!” says Luke.

“Hope you’re both ready!” says Kieran.

Sylus straightens, capping the lipstick with a sharp click. You force yourself to calm down, to focus on your breathing — four counts in, seven counts out.

“Are you ready?” Sylus asks, his tone once more whiskey-smooth and just as potent.

You roll back your shoulders and give a quick nod, speaking to yourself just as much as you’re speaking to him —

“Sure. Let’s get this over with.”

003. blood and roses

There’s blood on your hands and blood on the pavement. The world shimmers around you in wildfire and smoke.

“… so… so much blood…”

“You can’t die here —” Sylus’s voice cuts through the memory like a struck chord, resonating inside you till it’s the only thing you can hear, “that life you owe me? It’s not your time to pay it back yet!”

You reach for him, and the moment you feel your palms connect, a bead of heat pulses out from the center of your clasping hands. Your skin is slick with sweat and blood, but his hand beneath you is oddly cool and smooth.

The charred ashes of the beaten Wanderer fall around you like flakes of misbegotten snow; you wave your free hand to keep the pieces from falling into your eyes. A river of light seeps from the Deepspace Tunnel into the center of your chest, glowing brighter and brighter until it coalesces into a familiar gem-like shape.

It comes to a rest between your fingers seconds before it cracks, the light flickering once along the seam before going out.

“It — the Aether Core —!”

“It’s power is yours now. Why’re you so surprised?” Sylus doesn’t let go of your hand, but realizing this, you pull away first, and he makes no move to stop you.

“D-did you know?” you ask, unable to keep the accusation from seeping into your voice.

“Does it make a difference?”

You clamp down hard on your bottom lip, weighing the answers. It isn’t until you reach up to absently card your hand through your hair that you notice — your wrist and his, linked together by a tangible string of red, pulsing power.

You gasp, “W-what —?”

“Tch.”

You wave your wrist, watching as Sylus’s hand follows the movement. Your cheeks darken as he looks away, sighing audibly.

“If you planned this —!” but your words are cut short by a sudden wave of vertigo — the world spins around you and for a second, all you can see is the pinwheeling stars above you, the bright, pulsating edges of the Deepspace Tunnel, and then — everything fades to a sweet, merciful darkness.

You wake up to the smell of roses, and a warm body next to yours. Groaning, you try to shield your eyes from the light filtering through the massive windows.

It takes you a second to orient yourself, and to realize why your wrist seems so heavy as you try to lift a hand and rub at your eyes.

“Looks like you’re up early, though Mephisto still has you beat.”

You blink blearily up at Sylus, sitting next to you in bed, his back propped up on a fortress of pillows, a tablet in one hand, the other still linked to your wrist, half-raised to your face.

You squeak, ducking down to hide beneath the covers, hurriedly wiping at your eyes and your mouth, a mix of horror and embarrassment mounting in your stomach as you realized you must have been drooling in your sleep.

“What did you do to me?!” you demand, pulling back the covers when you’re somewhat certain that you don’t still have drool-marks at the corners of your mouth.

Sylus, for his part, looks only mildly ruffled by your sudden stint back to wakefulness. He takes his time setting down the tablet with his free hand and picking up the steaming mug of black coffee.

“You fainted,” he says, as if that explains everything, “after the resonance worked. Though it makes sense you would — after finally getting the Aether Core and all —”

“No! I mean —” you gesture desperately between you, the pristine linen sheets twisting around you both like waves on a white-sand beach, “how did I — we — get here? Who changed me?” you ask, your cheeks flaring up even as Sylus sips at his coffee, seemingly content to watch you sputter yourself dry.

“Really? After all that, the first question you have is who changed your clothes?” Sylus asks, a distinct tone of mockery clear in his every word.

“Shut up! You know what I mean!”

“Do I? I don’t think I do — you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” He grins, all splitting lips and too-white teeth. You stare, dumbfounded at his nonchalant expression before huffing and slumping back into your own pile of pillows. You blink, throwing up your free hand to shield yourself from the too-bright light of sunrise, shining straight into your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sylus taps a few buttons on his tablet and the windows darken, filtering out the harsh morning light, leaving the pair of you in a dim, yet luminous shadow.

“I just —” you cut yourself off before you can ask yet another mundane question, and finally, after a few minutes of mulling over what exactly it is you want to ask, you settle on, “what now?”

Sylus shrugs, casting his eyes back down at his tablet, setting his half-drunk cup of coffee on the bedside table.

“Now, we do whatever we want. You have your Aether Core and I have mine,” he lifts up his wrist, shaking yours in the process, “and we try to figure out how to manage this.”

“And if we don’t?” you ask dryly.

Sylus chuckles, “Then, we figure out a way to live with it.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, “Ugh. Of all the people to be stuck to…” you mutter to yourself. And though you’d said it quiet enough for it to be an afterthought, both of you knew Sylus had been too close not to hear.

He scoffs, pulling you close, tipping you off balance so that you topple face-first into his chest.

“Wake up, little crow,” he says, his tone caught halfway between mocking and maleficence, twisting your face till you’re forced to stare out of the window at the dulled-out skyline below.

“You think you’re so great, being a Hunter and getting rid of Wanderers,” he says, a sharp venom seeping into his words as he speaks, and slowly, he punches a button the tablet that makes the windows un-tint themselves.

You watch as the sunrise bleeds itself dry over Linkon City, the harsh, morning light slicking the entire city in a vapid, orange glow.

“The brighter the light, the darker the shadow — do you really think that just because you and your little Hunter friends are out there killing Wanderers and saving the world, that there isn’t the a need for people like us?” Sylus pushes you away from him. It’s not a harsh move, but it’s not exactly gentle either.

And again, you can’t help feeling the imprint of his fingers, almost as if burned into your skin as your rub at your jaw.

It’s when you turn to glare at him that you meet his gaze and find him staring at you with a look that’s much more haunting than ghost. Much more longing than loathe.

“Well… you’re one of us now. And newsflash, little crow — sometimes, the world just doesn’t want to be saved.”

You let his words sit with you, like river stones, hard and smooth, feeling them sink slowly down the length of your throat to settle somewhere in the wide basin on your stomach. You avert your eyes, and it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of flowers sitting on your bedside table.

“What are the roses for?” you ask, reaching out your free hand to run a thumb along a single, velvet petal. It comes off at your touch, and you watch it fall against the unmarred white marble of the table top.

“A little present,” Sylus says, waving you away, “a thank you - for a job well done last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone, “it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“You did,” Sylus says, “you could’ve killed me. And you didn’t.

“I could still kill you now,” you say, though there’s no conviction in your voice at all. Instead, you reach out to tug at another dark red petal. It comes off just as easily as the one before.

“You could. But you haven’t. And don’t you think that warrants a reward?”

004. dawn

“I’ve never hated you, you know.”

You frown, squinting against the early-morning light.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself waking up next to him, and you think it won’t be the last. You flip onto your side to face him, feeling a familiar rush of heat crest into your chest as you come nearly nose to nose with him.

Sylus barely even flinches, cocking an eyebrow before reaching out to tug a stray piece of hair from your face.

“What?” you ask, even though you know full well what he’d said. So maybe, you just wanted to hear it again — is that so terrible?

“Hn,” Sylus grins, rolling onto his back to cast his eyes up at the ceiling, “I said you’re getting drool on my pillows.”

You squeak, fumbling to wipe at your face before the realization hits, and you jerk up, pouting.

“That’s not what you said!”

“Then you did hear,” Sylus casts you an amused glance.

You lick your lips, the soft cotton of sleep still muffling the world such that everything except him feels strangely out of focus.

“I — I heard… a word here and there —”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

You scowl, whipping around to pin him with a stare, “Where I come from, that’s not a bad thing.”

Sylus’s eyes tick towards you, his expression amused as he appraises you, and not for the first time, you feel yourself go warm beneath the solar-storm fixation of his attention. Like this, you can feel the air between you blistering, as oil to a lit fuse, as his eyes travel over the planes of your face, the curve of your shoulder, the thin silk strap that had since slipped to cling to your upper arm.

“No? I suppose not,” he concedes, pushing himself up, reaching over the bedside table to push at a small button on the far side. Somewhere else in the penthouse, you can hear an alarm bell ring.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing.

“Coffee,” he answers, and you fall silent again, turning your face away from him to look back at the heartbreak city, carved in shadows against dawn’s liquid light. It’d only been — what — a week? A bit more? And yet you can’t bring yourself to see the city the same.

Nothing has changed — not really.

But everything’s different, you think, as the door on the far side of the bedroom cracks open and Luke peers in with a smug smile and two steaming cups of coffee.

“Black for the boss, and milk and sugar and all the trimmings for the little crow.”

Sylus tsks, a frown digging itself into the space between his eyebrows, his eyes flashing as he takes the two cups. Luke, to his credit, jerks back, dancing out of Sylus’s reach.

“Ah — sorry, sorry — didn’t know that was a special nickname,” he says, making a show of stooping to apologize, though neither of you miss the jesting crow beneath his voice.

“Out.” Sylus orders, and Luke doesn’t waste time scurrying from the room, cackling beneath his breath like a gleeful child.

You take your cup from his hand and give it a dainty sip, adjusting yourself against the pile of pillows.

“What? I thought that nickname was your idea.”

“It is,” Sylus says, relaxing back. The tether between your wrists sits slack and nearly invisible on the sheets between you. He stares down at the dark liquid surface of his own cup before turning to smirk at you, “doesn’t mean it was meant to be shared.”

You clamp down on another wash of heat, threatening your cheeks as you sink a bit deeper into the luxurious bedding. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to sleep on sheets this nice again once you figure out how to break the tether between you and you’re finally allowed to go home.

“Why say it where other people can hear if you didn’t want them to pick it up?” you shoot back, determined to get the last say, at least in this.

Sylus sets down his cup, cocking his head to look at you, “It’s not a joke if there’s no one around to hear the punchline.”

You level him with a glare, “Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem if I’m just your captor, right?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to find your voice stolen by the sight of him, kissed gold by the rising sun. You’ve never been one to obsess over beauty but even you can’t pretend to be unaffected.

Like this, he looks hewn from marble, a statue at the loving hands of a besotted sculptor — a lazy god rendered into silk and stone. He is smooth skin and burning eyes and a jawline that might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. There’s a base carnality in the way he looks at you (and looks at you) — his gaze so penetrating that somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever been seen this way before.

There’s a damnable elegance to him, even as his lips twitch up into a tell-tale smirk.

“What?” he asks, leaning forward just an inch, but the distance feels exaggerated by your closeness, such that suddenly, you’ve got to lean back to look into his face. He licks his own lips languorously, and you feel your chest tighten on a torque, caught in the turn of his smile.

“Kitten got your tongue?” he asks.

You shake yourself, shifting back slightly, “You’re mixing your metaphors,” you say, trying to keep your eyes from straying back to his face.

“They’re my metaphors to do with as I wish. So. Aren’t you going to answer?”

“Answer what?”

“What you think you heard me say, right before you woke up.”

You cup your palms around your coffee mug, feeling its heat seep steadily into your skin. There’s a familiar tingle at the tips of your ears and you know you’re already blushing.

Stupid coffee, you think, trying hard to school your expression into a frown, stupid Sylus, you add to yourself, taking a long sip and biting back your sigh of relief at the mundane magic of caffeine and sugar.

“Does it matter what I think?” you sidestep the question.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat, “If it didn’t, would I have asked?”

The torniquet in your chest twists tight enough to make your stomach flip as well. You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your answer.

“I never hated you…” you say, finally, your voice barely more than a whisper or a breath. And even as the words fall from you like so many rose petals, you’re unsure if you’re repeating his words back at him or making an admission of your own.

Sylus only shifts back to his side of the bed, leaning against his pile of pillows. Your wrists sit atop the sheets, inches apart, and yet you can’t deny the dull pull of gravity between you, as if something beneath your skin is itching to be close to his.

You turn to face him, twisting your fingers in your lap.

The quiet softens around you both, settling until you let out another long breath.

“So…” you drag out the word as Sylus glances up at you, expectant. His eyes flicker with the fire of the rising dawn behind you, and in them, you can see the shadow of yourself, painted in darkness against the light.

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask.

Sylus chuckles, his head listing sideways as he studies you.

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Hm…” you make a show of swinging your legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as your feet come into contact with the cool marble floors, “are there pancakes?”

Sylus stretches his arms over his head, letting out a soft groan that evokes something inside you that you’d rather not examine at the moment. You keep yourself turned resolutely away from him even as you hear the distinct sounds of him getting out of bed as well.

“No, but there can be — you only need ask.”

“Fine, I want pancakes,” you say, finally turning around, only to find him standing right behind you, his silk robe discarded on the floor by the bed, his chest broad and entirely bare. Your breath catches in your throat as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Is that asking?”

You crinkle your nose, forcing air back into your lungs.

“Okay, okay — can we have pancakes?”

Amusement dances behind his eyes as he bends over you, propping a hand casually on the dresser behind you to limit your movements.

“And the magic word?”

You narrow your eyes, “Nevermind!”

“Mm — wrong. Two more tries.”

You try to duck under his arm but he catches you easily, spinning you back around to face him, nearly sweeping Mephisto from his perch on the dresser. The crow lets out an offended caw and flaps off towards the far end of the room, coming to a disgruntled rest on the back of a satin loveseat.

“Let me go!”

“Wrong again — last chance.”

You sink your nails into the skin of his forearm, trying not to think of the taut muscles corded there. He doesn’t even wince, though for a second, the tether between your wrists flares up like a fanned flame.

“Fine! Please!”

Sylus straightens with a satisfied smirk, turning around to make for the bedroom door. Your chest is heaving, and the sudden space between you make your head spin. You blink at his retreating form, and it isn’t till he reaches the door that he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Hope you like raspberry jam.”

You level your breathing and hurry to catch up, clutching your own sleeping robe tighter around your chest as you fall into step next to him.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things.”

He opens the door and steps aside for you to walk through first.

“I never said it was for me.”

---

be part of my taglist! or read me on ao3

[natalyarose]

𝐸𝓂𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝐸𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒩𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 🌼🌞✨🍯

In the world of Vedic astrologers, there is a lot of remark about how in the age of the internet, rapid technological advancements, idols, overstimulation, 'fake news', and trend cycles as fast as lightning, we are living in times very influenced by nodal energy. Or at least, nodal (particularly Rahuvian) aspects of reality are increasingly 'in your face', accessible... If we take the concept of trends to be a very nodal phenomena for instance: throughout most of history, trends were not something you could observe so blatantly the way we do now.

A 'trend' was more likely to last an entire generation, and without the constant access to the past, present and future of the entire world that the internet now provides, you wouldn't even realise it's a trend. One would simply consider it 'normal'. People were not as aware of what the 'elites' are up to, what happens in other countries, mass information leakage etc. you are busy carrying your own burdens, and reaping your own joys, in your own bubble.

In older times, it's as simple as- the life you're born into is the life you focus on & work on UNLESS you are in a position of power (Solar energy) & therefore dealing more with the people at large & distant lands. Even still, your main focus is on your own kingdom/village/tribe. The average person is not going to really know what's going on in faraway places the way we now do. Sure, this nodal, constant consumption element of reality still existed, but it was less 'in your face'.

These days we have our 'black mirrors' (phones, laptops, etc) and they exist as a portal into- anywhere we desire. Lives & realities that don't even necessarily relate to our own. The need to be consciously aware of this is crucial in order to find the balance necessary.

Currently, everything is moving so fast, and there are constant forms of stimulation, movement, illusions and streams of consciousness to get lost in. So many rabbit holes to fall down without you even realising it that will drain & alienate you from your Solar energy.

Getting lost in trends and the lives of other people that in the physical realm, do not directly touch your own life, can be extremely draining to us. In an abstract way, this gives us insight into why it is that so many people feel depressed- lost, like the world is grey... there is constant fog, smoke & mirrors attempting to block our internal Sun, our personal unique destiny & divinity.

Ironically, I tend to think that the reason we're collectively so divided & lonely lately (there's many reasons, but in the way of esoteric takes), is the lack of Solar energy. People talk about how this society is missing the honouring of feminine (Lunar) energy, which is true- but only because of the lack of healthy Solar energy to support it.

I mean, a material manifestation of this is the.. beyond concerning (and somehow, rarely talked about?) statistics on the sperm count dropping. According to various scientific studies, we're looking at roughly a 50% decrease over 50 years... that's just- wow.

Another of many material manifestations of the way true Solar energy is becoming rarer/obscured: lately, the average suburban city is removing structures (Solar) & facilities people usually go to socialise and have fun- bars, clubs, cinemas, skate parks, venues hosting of events & festivals. Yes, the actual social aspect is more of a Lunar energy, but the Solar aspects (ie. the structures, the organised events, the provided food, etc) are the container for that Lunar energy to fall upon. For socialisation, intimacy, raw emotion & connection to exist healthily, we need some kind of structure, some Solar goodness to go off of so we're not just- floating entities in space talking to other floating entities in space about nothing in particular.

Yes, Solar energy speaks of individuality, paving your own path, ego, sense of self- but here's the thing. If we lack sense of self, how can we connect with people? How can we feel unity if there's no 'self' in the first place? How can we connect and share with people if we feel we have nothing to offer and we're all regurgitating the same stuff- there's no reason to talk or connect if everybody seems to be just.. lacking substance, robotic, or a void

Solar energy is our ego, our happiness, our light. It represents that substance. Someone speaking from a place of Solar light is tapping into a place of authenticity & experience, whereas when we are lost in nodal energies; we are moreso becoming a conduit for other people's ideas and thoughts we've heard about, forgetting our own footing in reality.

I feel like- no, I've seen- time and time again how this current society can delude us into believing that the way to leave your mark on the world & make the world a better place, is to get lost in others. To always be in the know, informed and on trend when it comes to everything outside of yourself. It feels like we are being taught that if we aren't carrying the weight of the whooole world on our shoulders, we are selfish or living under a rock.

On the one hand, it is definitely important that we have some sort of a spiritual awareness of what's going on in the lives of others (be it friends, relatives, or people in other countries) but on the other hand, this constant focus on other people takes away from you having the chance to make a true difference and BE a beacon of light.

Sometimes I see something dark on the news, very dark.. I'm in tears, I'm anxious, I'm asking the heavens why these things happen... how is it fair? I'm praying, I'm sucked in and can't look away from what I'm seeing because it feels like I have a duty to at least witness the suffering if others have to go through it. There have been times it's just debilitated me; until I realised something-

I am worth more to the world, the people suffering included, by focusing on fostering beauty, joy & goodness in my own life. I'm not helping the world by crying in my bed unable to feed or take care of myself because I'm distraught about something I saw on my phone. It's only impairing my ability to remain in a high vibrational state that I can create & share with the world from. People who truly make a difference are often the ones who either innately embody or have cultivated a very Solar nature- 'water off a ducks back'. It shouldn't be about ignoring or suppressing emotions, so much as using emotion wisely.

This doesn't mean it is best to completely ignore the world or be cold or 'heartless', but moreso that you need to be holding a torch for yourself in order to even begin to light the way for others. Those who are suffering generally do not want others to suffer for them (especially if they can't physically do anything to help)- that only creates... more suffering. I know in times of my own suffering, not once did I think 'damn, I wish someone was as sad and destitute as me' lol

I thought 'man, I really would love to be around people & circumstances that are positive, uplifting & nourishing so that I can feel that warmth again'.

If every single person in the world was utterly debilitated and absorbed in other realities, other people's lives, neglecting their own 'karma' & their own blessings, who would be there for people to look to for hope? Who would be the blueprint for what happiness actually looks like? In a world without strong, solar entities, who can those who are suffering look up to to imagine a better life?

Fill your own cup first!

Sometimes the best thing you can do for the world, is to manifest your own beautiful, magical, pure life- whatever that means for YOU. Build your own foundation so that you can be an inspiration & comfort for those who need it, while being stable and strong within your own being.

A lighthouse doesn't go out to sea and get into the storm with the ships. It doesn't go chasing the ships down to save them. It simply stays where it is, strong, radiating light and indiscriminate- unconcerned with who 'gets' the light. Trusting that the universe is working its magic and the right people are benefiting from your radiance. That is what staying true to yourself & your own unique destiny looks like.

I see too many people (myself included, but working on it..) with bleeding hearts. Completely lost and overwhelmed by the struggles, thoughts, opinions, beliefs & chaos of others, feeling as though they can't just sit and watch, they have to do something about it. Or if they can't do something about it, they have to at least feel it, delve into all that emotion. Instead of being the lighthouse and realising that nurturing yourself = raising the vibration of the world, which = one more person living in truth & happiness for others to look up to- they are missing that opportunity and becoming drained/psychologically in pain.

Do what makes you happy. It's so simple, yet so.. not! It's a skill, and it takes discipline & sometimes what feels like active rebellion in order to refrain from abandoning yourself and getting lost in something or someone else; whether that thing is positive or negative... 🌸

Very long story short - the most helpful gift you can give to the world, is your joy & faith in your own destiny.

To anyone who read all this, have a beautiful day and if you can, go do something fun lol, or create something ♡

note: I just want to make sure it's clear that I'm not saying nodes = bad & Sun = good or anything like that! Every planet, every celestial force plays an important role in life on Earth and the nodes have their own magic too. This post is just talking about the importance of staying in touch with your Solar light rather than getting completely and utterly lost in the pull of the nodes. I also want to add that of course sometimes there are unique occasions, where plunging into the darkness with somebody else is exactly what you need to do- but if that's the case, that'll be a part of your 'destiny', so even still you will be embodying your light if that makes sense. Never abandon your light.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: Enjoy the next little angsty installment for this series! I've been having fun writing a bit more about the college period than expected and our next installment gets angstier. Because who does Matt date in college? Yup. She's here. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Feedback is always appreciated if you're enjoying the series as well!

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @rotscinema

“Okay, okay, so I took Punjabi and didn’t learn anything. Big deal!” Foggy said, waving a dismissive hand. “At least I got to talk to that really hot chick in class.”

“But that’s all you did,” Matt pointed out. “You never even managed to get her number.”

Foggy let out a sigh, a faraway look on his face as he gazed just past Matt’s shoulder. You giggled at the sight; you’d heard the story about the girl Fog had taken Punjabi just to talk to many times before, but it never failed to amuse you how little he’d actually learned because he’d been distracted by her instead.

“So what about you?” Matt asked. 

He turned in your direction, leaning his elbows along the table and drawing himself closer to you. Your fingers were fiddling nervously with the beer bottle on the table in front of you, absently peeling the label from it. The way Matt was focused on you with that little grin on his mouth in the dimly lit bar had sent your heart racing, the weight of his sightless gaze on you behind his dark glasses making you nervous. For a moment your eyes lingered on his lips, wondering just how great of a kisser he might be. How it might feel if he just leaned a bit closer towards you and connected his mouth to yours. Or what it would be like to curl up with him in your bed after this, feel his tongue in your mouth and his hands roaming your body instead of someone else’s…

You cleared your throat, shoving those thoughts quickly away. You flushed when you realized you’d been staring silently at Matt, his brows having started to rise curiously onto his forehead at you.

“What about me?” you asked awkwardly.

“I never hear you talk about going on dates or taking classes just to meet a guy,” Matt said, that grin still on his mouth. “I think it’s your turn to spill some embarrassing stories.”

You met Foggy’s eyes on your other side, his smile faltering at Matt’s question. Swallowing hard, your gaze quickly dropped down as you focused on your beer bottle in front of you again. You shrugged in response.

“Guess no one’s caught my eye,” you lied.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Matt shaking his head. Looking back up at him, you noticed his grin had widened on his perfect mouth. Immediately you frowned at the sight.

“Come on, be honest here,” Matt pressed, leaning even closer to you as one of his dark brows rose up onto his forehead. “You’ve never taken a class just to talk to someone? Or anything like that?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes falling away from Matt. It’s not like you could be entirely truthful here. Maybe you hadn’t taken a class to get to know someone you’d had a crush on like Foggy, or asked for assistance to intentionally get some one-on-one time with someone like Matt had often done. But you had become best friends with the guy you had a thing for. Rearranged your entire schedule to fit his so you could see him almost every day despite how utterly pathetic it often made you feel. 

But you certainly couldn’t admit that .

“Don’t tell me there’s no one you have a thing for,” Matt urged after a moment. “I won’t believe you.”

His arm slid across the table to nudge yours in a friendly, playful gesture. Your eyes instantly dropped down to where he’d touched you, your arm feeling like that single, brief touch had sent a burning fire through your entire body. But when your eyes darted back up to Matt’s face, your attention was drawn to just over his shoulder. There was a young woman in a group of a few others back at the bar, and it was obvious how her attention kept shifting back to Matt, checking him out.

Shoulders slumping, your head dropped low as you focused back on your beer bottle. That jealous, dejected feeling washed over you. It was one you’d become familiar with lately, feeling it whenever Matt was flirting, or being checked out, or out on a date, or clearly out having sex with someone. 

“Not anyone who’d ever notice me,” you muttered.

“Oh well now I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt said good-naturedly. “How could someone not notice you? You’re amazing. Right, Fog?”

Your head flew up, eyes going wide at Matt’s compliment. He’d called you amazing. Matt had never said anything like that before about you. Your mind suddenly was spiraling in a different direction for once, thoughts quickly running through your mind one after another.

Could Foggy have been right? Was it possible Matt maybe did have an interest in you? Maybe all this time all you’d needed to do was just tell him how you felt. Maybe he’d never asked you on a date before because you weren’t forward with your feelings like all of the other women who’d very openly flirted with him. 

Maybe it was just as simple as that.

“I tell her that all the time,” Foggy agreed easily. “And I’m sure whoever this guy is sees it, too.”

He shot you a pointed look before his eyes darted meaningfully across the table to Matt. Slowly your gaze followed where Foggy’s had, attention returning back to Matt. He had focused back on you as well, that beautiful charming smile of his on his mouth. Biting your lip, you contemplated thinking up some way to just tell Matt how you felt here and now and put everything out there in the open. Especially before the girl making eyes at him could come over and steal him away for the night. But before you could open your mouth, Matt was continuing on.

“You should really give yourself more credit,” he told you. “Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.”

Hope was quickly rising in your chest, your body suddenly feeling weightless. “You–you think so?” you asked him cautiously.

“Absolutely,” he answered, one hand coming up to readjust his dark glasses on his nose. “You’re a sweet, intelligent girl. And you’re funny as hell. Honestly, I was not expecting you to be as hilarious as you are.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

Beside you, you noticed the way Foggy’s wide eyes were darting back and forth between you and Matt like he was just waiting for the moment one of you admitted feelings or something. It felt like your stomach was filling with hundreds of anxious butterflies all flapping about inside of you as that hope only bloomed further in you. 

“Oh, definitely,” Matt said with a nod. “You’re like a female Foggy. Which is high praise, because Foggy is the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.”

Instantly you deflated as if Matt had just punched you in the gut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

Mouth dropping open, you sat there dumbfounded and hurt. Every ounce of hope that maybe you’d misread the situation–maybe he didn’t see you as just a friend–immediately dropped into your half finished bottle of beer and drowned. Your chest felt hollow as Matt’s smile briefly faltered before you. 

Attention returning back towards Foggy on your left, you saw him shooting you that all-too-familiar sad smile again. You wanted to crawl under the table and cry at the sight of it.

“You’re both suddenly really quiet,” Matt pointed out, his tone a bit nervous. “Did I–I say something wrong?”

You couldn’t look at him, your gaze dropping yet again to the table before you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight them back, clearing your throat as you blinked hard a few times. 

“No,” you answered softly. “Thanks, Matt.”

“You–you sound upset,” he pointed out. “What’d I say wrong?”

“Dude,” Foggy began immediately, “you just told her she was best friend material when you were supposed to be giving her encouragement that she is more than that.”

“What? No,” Matt said quickly.

Your eyes caught sight of how fast his head turned in your direction out of your peripheral. That hollow feeling felt like it was only growing in your chest the longer you sat here. Maybe you should just call it a night and head back to your dorm before it swallowed you whole.

“That’s not what I meant,” Matt said earnestly. 

He said your name, his hand reaching out and feeling along the table before it eventually landed on your wrist. Your eyes snapped shut, your jaw clenching at the contact of his skin on yours when his fingers encircled your wrist. It wasn’t helping.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you were just friend material,” he continued. “That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong.”

“It’s fine, Matt, I get it,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“No, hey, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot,” he said in a rush, his hand holding tighter to your wrist. “Please don’t get upset. I just meant you’re a really great person, one of the best I’ve ever met. I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“Yeah, alright,” you said with a nod, desperate for him to just stop.

“How about this,” Matt said, his tone picking up to something brighter, “you bring me with to meet this guy, and I’ll be the best wingman ever." 

You slipped your wrist out from Matt’s hold, no longer interested in sitting here and finishing your beer. Walking home in the cool evening and crying sounded vastly more appealing. Abruptly shoving your chair out, the legs of it making an irritating screech along the floor that was audible over the pop music playing, you slipped out of your seat.

“You heading back already?” Foggy asked, that knowing look on his face.

“Yeah, early class tomorrow,” you answered.

“Wait, hang on,” Matt said, pushing his own chair back as he turned in his seat towards you. “If you’re leaving because I upset you, I’m sorry.”

You sighed, pushing your chair back into the table so he wouldn’t end up tripping over it when he inevitably got up. “I’m leaving because I have an early class in the morning, Matt,” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the brief twitch of his eyebrows on his forehead as if he somehow knew you were lying. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could try to apologize yet again. That, too, wasn’t helping. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you said quickly, shooting Foggy a wave as you took a step back.

“Dining hall for lunch tomorrow?” Fog asked hopefully.

“Sure,” you answered, shooting him a tight smile. Turning, you muttered under your breath, “If I even have an appetite by then.”

Weaving your way through the fairly busy bar, you eventually made it to the exit. You pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly late spring evening. You felt a bit of the tension easing from your body already, the street noise of the city vastly preferable to you than being in Matt’s proximity right now. You couldn’t sit there any longer listening to him apologize to you for viewing you as only a best friend. 

You were an idiot to have thought there was hope for something more between you both. Of course he was only saying nice things that a friend would say to another friend to make them feel better and build them up. It was the same thing he’d probably say to Foggy if he was interested in a girl. How stupid you were to think of it as anything else. 

Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.

You laughed bitterly at his comment, your arms hugging tight to your chest as you made the short trek back to campus and towards your dorm. Any guy except for Matt would be lucky to take you on a date, that’s basically what you gathered this evening. Matt was probably going to be hit on by that girl at the bar in a matter of minutes. You were positive he’d end up in either her dorm or his shortly afterwards. But you were not someone Matt would take on a date.

A frown twisted your mouth downwards, tears stinging at your eyes. You didn’t want to think about yet another conquest for Matt. It felt shitty that Matt would sleep with almost any girl on campus except for you. Not that that’s all you wanted from him–because you wanted vastly more than to just fuck him–but it made you feel like there was something wrong with you. 

Why weren’t you good enough? What was so different about you that Matt didn’t want you like he did with those other girls?

A tear slipped down your cheek and you reached a hand up, wiping it away. Seconds later you heard your phone ringing in your pocket and your frown deepened. You reached down, pulling it out and looking at the caller ID. Matt’s name was on the screen. Your eyes closed as you came to a stop on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to talk to him, why the hell was he calling you?

For a minute you considered letting his call go to your voicemail and ignoring it. You could always just tell him later that you’d had it on silent and didn’t realize he’d called until the next morning. How would he know you were lying? 

But you felt guilty at the thought of ignoring him just because he’d unintentionally hurt you. It’s not like Matt could control who he was or wasn’t attracted to. That wasn’t his fault. With a sigh you flipped the phone open, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

He greeted you with your name, his voice sounding a little out of breath. You frowned.

“What’s going on? Something happen at the bar?” you asked, brows furrowing.

“No, not exactly,” he answered quickly. “Fog saw this girl he likes there. I think her name is Marci? Figured I’d leave him to it and check on you, actually. Which is why I called. How far from the bar did you get? I was trying to catch up.”

Biting your lip, you turned on the spot, stepping out of the way of a small group of college kids walking past you. A little ways back you could make out Matt’s form heading down the sidewalk towards you, his cane tapping away in one hand, his other hand holding his phone to his ear. Shoulders dropping, you realized you were going to have to walk back with him. Which was the last thing you’d been wanting to do right now.

“You didn’t need to leave on my account, Matt,” you told him.

“You seemed upset, I didn’t want you to walk back alone like that,” he replied. “So how far away did you get?”

Sighing, you began walking back the way you’d come. “I can see you, I’ll just turn back around and meet you in a minute,” you said.

Both of you exchanged goodbyes before you hung up, slipping your phone into your pant’s pocket before you once again uncomfortably wrapped your arms around your chest. It took you about a minute to reach Matt and you greeted him once you did, watching as his head darted in your direction. That damn charming smile slipped onto his face instantly and you hated the way it made you feel.

“Was hoping I’d manage to find you,” he greeted you back.

“Congrats,” you muttered. “I can walk you back to your dorm, if you want.”

“Well now that defeats the purpose of me walking you back to your dorm,” Matt countered cheekily.

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight the small smile snaking its way onto your lips. Reaching out, you placed Matt’s outstretched hand in the crook of your arm. His warm fingers curled around you, that hollow pit in your chest suddenly growing larger as you began to guide him back towards campus. 

For a little bit neither of you spoke, your body tense as Matt held onto you while the pair of you walked back towards your dorms. His cane tapping along the pavement mixed with the noises of the city, the sound lingering heavily over the pair of you.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, eventually breaking the silence.

His question caught you off guard, your lips pressing together as Columbia came into view. Once again, it’s not like you could be truthful with Matt. You couldn't tell him you had feelings for him–had them for months–and that him calling you a female Foggy had deeply hurt you. You’d only embarrass yourself and ruin your friendship with him.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn swiftly in your direction. Your teeth ground together under the weight of his attention. 

“Can you be honest with me this evening?” he asked.

“Who says I’m not?” you countered.

“Because I know you,” he answered immediately. “You sounded close to tears earlier before you left the bar. You’re not telling your usual jokes or laughing. You’ve been pretty quiet most of this evening, especially during this walk. You’re just giving brief responses when I know you love to talk.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the sidewalk before you as you led the pair of you down a different path, one that would bring you towards the residence halls. Internally you cursed Matt and his astute observations. 

“Was it what I said at the bar?” he pried. “Because I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

“Can we please stop talking about that already?” you snapped.

Heat flooded your cheeks immediately after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to snap at him, but you were tired of hearing his apology. And you certainly didn’t need to hear him offer to be your wingman again.

“So it was what I said,” he replied. 

His head turned, his attention once again on you as you both continued to walk. Your gaze remained fixed ahead of you, though.

“Why did that bother you so much?” he asked gently.

“Because I–” you stopped instantly, unsure of how to navigate this conversation without giving everything away. You sighed, shaking your head. “Because I’m always the friend,” you admitted weakly, tears stinging at your eyes again. “And I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Matt said earnestly. “Why would you even think that?”

You shook your head, glad when you saw your building coming into view. You were desperate for an excuse to get out of this conversation. Especially because you felt the threat of tears growing stronger.

"It doesn't matter, forget I said that," you replied.

Matt pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk instantly. Surprised, you turned towards him, beginning to blink back the tears threatening to spill forth.

"It does matter if it's got you this upset," he pushed. "I meant what I said earlier. Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date. And if whoever this guy is has got you feeling this down on yourself, he's probably an asshole."

You couldn't help the humorless laugh that fell out of you. Little did he know he'd just called himself an asshole and you couldn't help but see the humor in it. The sound of your laugh only caused Matt’s brows to furrow though, his fingers tightening their hold on your arm. 

"What?" he asked. "Why is that funny?"

Because it's you, you idiot.

"It's not funny," you answered instead. "I just feel stupid."

He said your name softly, shaking his head. "Hey, you're not stupid" he assured you.

You couldn't stop the tears that fell, that ache in your chest only deepening with every nice word from his mouth that didn't mean what you desperately wanted it to. Matt's head tilted to the side at your silence, but the moment you couldn't fight back a choked sob, he was quickly pulling you in towards him.

One of his arms wrapped around your back, the other gently drawing your head towards his solid chest, cradling you carefully against him as his fingers lightly stroked their way through your hair. Your own hands easily wrapped around him, holding tight to him as you cried into his shirt. His hand along your back began rubbing a soothing pattern, managing it somehow even with the cane still held in his hand. His comforting presence only had you fisting his shirt tighter in your hands as you became overwhelmed with your emotions, crying harder when you felt him rest his chin along the top of your head. Somehow his hands held you even closer to himself. 

You'd often imagined what it would feel like to be in Matt's embrace so many times before; what it would feel like to be in his arms, breathing in that warm, familiar scent of him. But you’d never pictured it like this. Never because you were crying over not being able to be with him while he unknowingly comforted you for it.

"Maybe he's not the right guy," Matt whispered. "If he can't see how great you are, maybe he's not the one worth feeling like this about."

"He's not an asshole though," you choked out, voice muffled against his chest. "That's the thing."

"You'll find someone," he assured you. "Someone who will see every wonderful thing about you. Someone who won't make you feel like this about yourself."

"He usually doesn't," you muttered. 

"Usually doesn't what?" he asked softly.

"Make me feel like this," you said, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. "Usually he makes me feel good. Happy." Your fingers tightened their hold around his shirt as you sniffled. "Special. But–but he doesn't know how I feel and I am positive he doesn't feel that way in return. And that's what hurts."

"How do you know if you don't tell him?" Matt asked.

Matt’s words at the bar ran through your mind again and your eyes snapped shut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

"Believe me, I know," you answered stiffly. 

Forcing yourself to release your hold on Matt, you stepped back as he untangled his hold on you in return. You wrapped your arms uncomfortably around yourself yet again, your attention on your feet. 

"Sorry, this was stupid," you mumbled. "I can finish walking to my dorm myself, Matt. But thanks for uh, trying to help."

He took a step towards you, concern clearly written on his face. "I can walk you the rest of the way. It's not–"

"I want to be alone," you told him firmly. 

He stared at you in silence for a moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

You sighed heavily, eventually nodding. Because you knew you were too weak to give Matt up. You knew that despite how much it hurt to see him with other women all the time, the thought of him permanently missing from your life hurt worse.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Matty," you whispered. 

Turning, you made your way down the path towards your hall, tears still silently streaming down your cheeks. You ignored the stares of passing students, wiping away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand as you walked. 

These feelings would eventually fade. They had to.

[noxxytocin]

This or That? 🫴

Highlight your choice in your signature color. You cannot choose more than one option. Think hard and choose wisely.

Thank you kindly for the tag, @the-letterbox-archives. 🫰✨ This looks fun!

Tall or Short // Spicy or Sweet // Cute or Cool // City or Country // Mountains or Ocean // Forest or Desert // Witch or Knight // Vampire or Werewolf // Cats or Dogs // Outdoors or Indoors // Speed or Strength // Brains or Brawn // Fangs or Claws // Wings or Tail // Chaos or Order // Hot or Cold // Together or Alone // Books or Television // Close Combat or Faraway Sniping // Electricity or Ice // You or Me // Fluffy or Smooth // Firm or Soft // Black or White // Day or Night // Spring or Fall // Summer or Winter // Men or Women (Or the secret third option: Neither) // Rice or Bread // Meat or Vegetables // Short Sleeves or Long Sleeves // Sweaters or Jackets // Pastel or Neon // Friends or Family // Purse or Backpack // Competitive or Casual // Silk or Faux Fur // Sporty or Prep // Money or Love // Life or Death // Sky or Earth // Think or Leap

Tagging: @luminousecho @the-golden-comet @shyinsunlight @esolean @uniyppy @the-invisibility-bloke @eleniaelres @steve-black-hl @atrophic-dystopia @eternalremorse @gaunts-angel @jamiemoonymarks @moltenwrites @oerflink @silasbug @crime-in-progress

[hivefleet-hellbender]

Out in the desert, no one can find you... (Hex Tiles 1)

A sharp wind whistles through the desert dunes, bringing no reprieve to the travelers following the thin paths left out in the sand. Don't drink from the river — the plants that grow along its shores contain toxins that could leave a grown man coughing up blood, and chemical spills float through the current. A faraway road carries the rare drone-tank, long abandoned from any sort of human use.

My newest hobby, to distract myself on months when the purse is a bit too tight to be buying plastic crack from Games Workshop, is to build modular hex tiles! It's super easy — I pick up a hundred of these wooden MDF tiles from Amazon for $10 (they're advertised as 2", but they're 1.75" from tip to tip, and each side is 1"), grab any spare craft supplies I have lying around, and get to work! They're super quick (this first batch of one hundred took me around a week) and they open the door to a lot of cool experimentation. A lot of this is inspired by the work of u/Marcus_Machiavelli over on Reddit, who makes these fantastic modular hive city components that I hope to someday be able to emulate. 

I'm making these for two purposes, neither of which I've put in practice yet but I'm hoping to get to do at some point. They're for:

Any mass-battle games played at 6mm. This could also work for Adeptus Titanicus or the upcoming Epic reboot that Games Workshop is working on. 

Tactical TTRPGs like Lancer that are played with large beings, who can operate on a 6mm scale.

Once I get some games in with them, I'm sure I'll encounter future problems and reassess how I approach them. But for now, this is what I've got!

I Hate Sand

The first set of tiles I made, to serve as the backdrop for the rest of them, are these sand tiles. I chose to make this a desert (and thus make a bunch of sand tiles) because I already had some sand lying around, and because it's really cheap and easy to work with. Be careful though! Anakin was right; sand sucks. Try and pick up a finer grain than what I went with, apply the sand in a more-controlled location than I did, and secure it better than I did too. But here's how I did them:

Coat the surface of the hex with a mix of PVA glue and water.

Sprinkle on a light dusting of gravel or small rocks.

Apply a thick coat of sand on top of the gravel.

Knock off excess sand and recycle it for next time.

Spray with 1-2 layers of varnish. (I would recommend a sealant instead, but I didn't have any at the time)

For the ones with little paths on them, I painted the path on with White before applying the gravel or sand, and it shows through well enough! The paths are unnecessary — they're a fun experiment, but I don't think I'll be making more of them in the future.

The Gurgling Creek

Making the river tiles was a bit more involved, but still pretty easy. The method I came up with I think looks a lot better than just painting on water, and is a lot easier to work with than resin or water effects. 

Use some kind of texture gel to build up the riverbanks, trying to have them end around 1/4" on the sides of the tiles where you want your river to connect.

Paint a strip Black where you want the river to flow, running from one edge to another.

Apply sand as before, everywhere except where you painted the black. (If you're worried about fucking this up, you can swap the order)

Varnish (or use sealant) as before. 

Take some gloss mod podge and mix it with a light blue paint, and apply in large goopy quantities everywhere you want water to be. Leave overnight to dry. (If you want the river to be less cloudy, apply many thin coats of mod podge instead, letting each layer dry before applying the next)

As an extra, stipple green along the edges of the water and use a dark green wash to create patches of vegetation.

The river pieces are my favorites, and I'm the most proud of them. The tiny bridge was a thin strip of balsa wood, painted white and then washed black. It turned out fine.

I did a solid mix of straight river pieces and curving river pieces. If I was going to do it again I'd make more curving pieces than straight river pieces, because the curving ones make more sense for how rivers work.

The Road To Nowhere

These road tiles turned out really well, perfect for a run-down highway in the middle of nowhere. Here's how I made them:

Take a piece of corkboard and cut it down to be 1.75" long and 1" wide.

Glue it on a hex with the two edges of the corkboard touching two sides of the hex.

Go at the edges with a knife, making it all worn down and busted up.

In some of these spots, I fucked up and glued the corkboard on wrong. To fix that, break off a chunk and reposition it so it'll connect correctly. This will look like a big fat crack in the middle of the road, which is perfect.

Coat in a layer of mod podge or PVA glue. Leave to dry.

Once dry, paint the cork entirely Gray.

Drybrush White onto the corkboard, focusing on the edges and exposed spots.

Paint two thin yellow lines along the middle of the road. (These are optional, but they do a lot to make the 6mm scale convincing)

Apply sand, as before, onto the ground and up the sides of the road, so it looks like the road is emerging from the sand. Maybe apply some sand in a couple spots in the cracks to make it look like the sand has gotten in there.

Varnish and/or sealant, as before.

Apply a Black wash to the road. (There's a lot of tricks here! If you want the yellow stripes to be more vibrant, you can only paint them on after the first black wash. You can also target spots of sand on the road to make it look like it's asphalt runoff, soaking black into the cracks.)

Apply a second Black wash to the road. 

The bridge was a bit more complicated, and took some finicky positioning and a trip to Kung-Fu Tea.

Take a boba tea straw and cut it into 1" segments, then cut them in half, gluing them to the middle of the hex as culverts.

Take corkboard and glue it over the culverts, bending it so it meets the two edges you want the bridge to run along. If it breaks, that's okay — this is a crumbling, middle-of-nowhere bridge.

Use texture gel and spare corkboard to fill in the gaps.

Use texture gel to define the steep edges of the river. Apply a little bit in between the culverts.

Do all the road steps to the road part of the bridge, and all the river steps to the river part of the bridge.

I'm exceedingly proud of the bridge hex. It turned out perfectly, and feels very emblematic of what I want this project to be like.

Why You, Too, Should Make 6mm Terrain

6mm terrain is amazing to make. Mistakes look like part of the landscape or the brain smudges them over due to the small size, and small changes look like fascinating little details. It really opens the imaginative space and I absolutely adore working at this scale. Plus I'm developing a ton of experience with various materials I've never worked with before, so I get to enjoy the triumph of carving foam or corkboard. It rules! I might even try to make a 28mm bridge after the success I had making a 6mm one.

My future plans for this project include cliffs, craters, 3D-printed shantytowns, and overpasses. But all that is for a later date — for now I'm gonna rest on my laurels, and spend the rest of the evening reconfiguring various tile combinations and cackling like a mad scientist.

[basedonwha6]

I've never made an au before but heres a concept for one! Basic story line below the cut

In an ancient city, sun and moon were made by the gods to warn humans of famine, giving them a chance to prepare and prevent. Due to confusion and fear however, the people mistake sun and moon for spirits that bring famine, and they're cast away into a deep pit of ruins, where they are bound to stay for eternity.

In the modern time, Y/N is a college student who happened upon an opportunity to travel - which came with the promise that when they arrived, they'd be given a tour of a faraway ancient city. During the tour of the city, however, a siren call of sorts beckons them away from their tour group, appealing to their curiosity. Following the call, they slip away from the group and fall down into a deep pit, where they're met by what they could only call a monster. Barely slipping out of it's clutches in a stroke of luck, they run, being driven deeper and deeper into the pit - which turns to ruins as they run - by their assailent. Eventually, they reach an opening, an area from where the sunlight shines through a hole far above, and the beast stops it's pursuit and reluctantly turns away.

Confused but grateful for their safety, Y/N realizes they're lost and panics. They shout for help, try to get service on their phone, or even try to start a fire to alert someone with smoke, but nothing works. Totally lost and inexperienced with the wilderness, and after many fruitless attempts to get help, they allow themselves to curl into a ball and cry. They can't retrace their steps for fear of the monster, and they might be able to go deeper when they're stronger and ready to fight, but they need an emotional release - plus the sunlight was nice. The ruins were so dark everywhere else, and at least here felt friendly. They'd decide what to do once they'd gotten themselves together, but for now they needed to rest from the chase and release tension as much as possible...all while completely unaware of the gaze that had tracked them from the moment they'd entered the clearing.

Sun and moon, although having a relatively strong distaste for humans, have been bored and lonely for a thousands of years, where their only company was food and prey. Few sentient beings found themselves in the ruins, and even fewer made it to their clearing - now, the first human in centuries, was sitting and crying at the center of their territory. They decide to put aside their dislike for mankind and approach.

Beyond this point, Sun, Moon and Y/N meet. Y/N is initially scared and Sun and Moon are unimpressed, but press on due to lack of connection outside of themselves for years. Eventually, they gain Y/N's trust and they become their roommate of sorts.

Sun and Moon help show Y/N how to grow food with the limited resources in the clearing and Y/N tells them about the modern world. They find each other's company enriching, and that enrichment turns into a bond.

This is all mostly just 1 am word vomit and general ideas, so the whole story is very underdeveloped, but I wanted to put it out there in case anyone was interested in reading! It was really fun to type out lol regardless of grammatical mistakes (I wrote it on the Tumblr app and have not proof read it...hopefully it's coherent lmao)

If you made it this far, tysm for reading!! Hopefully you enjoyed the concept :)

[str4ngr]

O M F G. Can you do the star gazing prompt with nagi?? I like star gazing AND sky gazing so much that if I got a lazy day, no work, I'm able to see the sky where I lie down? God that gives me more peace than anything else. No thoughts just the sky. Be it day or night but here, star gazing w nagi is gonna be just so good like imagine it's just you and him lying on the rooftop next to each other, holding hands or a little cuddle or reader laying on nagi's hands which he opened for reader. And his other hand folded behind his head. OH AND ALSO BLANKETS!! This could happen around new years eve or the new years night. Where like after the 12 am fireworks is done, they're still awake, lied down after it was over and are just star gazing rn? Something like that. And not much is spoken since the essence of star gazing is that it just pulls you in for a calm, serene moment. Ehehe sorry I let my imaginations run wild and it became this long but like yeah ─ star gazing w nagi if possible :D

ⓖⓛⓘⓣⓣⓔⓡ [ 𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚘 ]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓; star gazing

cw: none, fluff, mutual pining, confession [japanese style], gn!reader.

New years was a beast when it came to celebration; just not for you and Nagi.

Above the room where you were supposed to be, you lay against the chilly roofing, your bodies beside one, his arm wrapped around you torso, a blanket covering your huddled figures as you wait.

"I didn't know minutes were so long."

Chuckling you turn to Nagi,

"Just try having some fun."

He glares at you as you snicker, turning his eyes back to the sky, his blue-light burned eyes focusing on the twinkling lights above his face. He squints, moving the hand from behind his head to point,

"I didn't know there were so many stars."

"It's probably because Blue Lock is so faraway from the city."

Your voices were barely murmurs, gently speaking as though the force of your breathes would blow away the delicate twinkling of the stars. You were close together, the cold air working like a wingman as your bodies moved closer, closer, and closer. His fingers curled around the sleeve of your sweater, pulling you tighter to his chest, your precipitating breathing mixing together.

Grey eyes stared into your features, not that you noticed, still quietly pointing and tracing the constellations. Beautiful. It was a word that spilled from his mind without restraint, unable to think of anything else as he watch the way your face flushed with each gentle draft of winter air. How your lips pursed, trying to keep them from getting too chapped. How your body felt so close to his as your moved your pointer finger from the stars, to the moon.

The moon.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

He didn't need to think twice as the words left his lips, his silver eyes meeting yours, as they widened, in an anxious stare. Your lips parted, the cold air making vapor surround your face as you stared, overwhelmed. He laughed a little he couldn't help it, his hand reaching yours as he rolled closer to you, and the fireworks flew,

"Happy new years."

⋆⁺₊❅.···········································································································.❅₊⁺⋆

rq: @sikuthealien this request genuinely made me tweak out but i love it. perfect for nagi omg. im gonna write more for nagi based off of just this rq because it's so cute.

directory

❅ 🅂🄽🄾🅆 & 🅂🄽🅄🄶🄶🄻🄴🅂 ❅

[mothwingwritings]

Dreaming Of World's End

Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Waaah it has been so long!!! I apologize for the absence! I have been working on and doing all kinds of stuff (fics included) as of late so I did one of my classic dip outs there for a moment, but I’m here! Just plunking away as usual. :)

With Dawntrail coming up I have been focusing a big chunk of my free time on trying to beat Endwalker (I am slow in all things, video games included lul) because I wanna be there with the herd with Dawntrail comes out!!! I have no idea if I am gonna make it, but I am doing the best I can to catch up!!!

That being said: Zenos brainrot propelled this fic from my brain, to my computer, to you. Was I and am I also writing a bunch of other things? Yes. Is this the only thing I could momentarily focus on writing-wise because I have been compromised by my love for this fucked up man? Also yes. I’m sorry. It’s bad. I was already obsessed with him in Stormblood and now that I am deep within the clutches of the Endwalker msq… It’s over for me guys. It was a good run, but rip to me. My WOL may be playing hard to get, but I’m sure not. Zenos if you are reading this, you can just have me.

So without further ado, here is a Zenos fic I have been working on! My love for him aside, I think Zenos is a super fun character to write for, so I really hope I did him some justice! This is a reader insert fic, but you are the Warrior of Light in it so feel free to insert your OC’s and WOL if you like! I tried to keep the reader neutral, but I will say it’s def aimed more at a female reader/character and if you are a shorter race like a Lala it will probs be a little wonky, so my apologies. Also, I am about half way? A little over half way? through the Endwalker main story, so potential spoilers up to that point. This fic takes place sometime between post Shadowbringers and the first part of Endwalker.

Nothing overly explicit, but due to the nature of this fic it is 18+ please!

Thank you so much for reading!!! <3 I truly hope you enjoyed!

WARNINGS: Unhealthy relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), intense infatuation, implied noncon, noncon mentions,  a lot of fighting and mentions of fighting, mentions of death and the end of the world, unwanted touching, Endwalker spoilers.

It was always the same dream.

Amaurot. The end times. Death, destruction, chaos. Streets tainted by endless misery, stifling woe permeating the air as people ran about frantically, picked off left and right by horrendous, nightmarish monsters. Screams pierced the air as the remaining survivors struggled in vain, desperate to escape a fate that they could not avoid.

Just as any other night, he would watch it all unfold with cold indifference. Walking through the crumbling, fire charred lanes of this shell of a once bustling city, he would take it all in at a leisurely pace, maintaining a stride no more rushed than if he were taking a pleasant stroll. His features would be void of distress or malaise, his face a blank slate as he paraded down roads lined with bodies and devastation.

Zenos could say it was because he had grown accustomed to it, have the same dream each night and the grisly scenario that laid in wait past your closed eyes was bound to no longer shock you. But that would be a lie, as this ghastly nightmare had never truthfully bothered him to begin with. He simply didn’t care, not about the dying planet, nor its inhabitants that suffered the same fate. This scene from another time, this moment from a faraway place that no longer existed, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any form of remorse for the phantoms left to wallow helplessly in this endless, hellish loop, even if his own star was on track to share the same fate.

An echo of the past was just that, to dwell on it was a fool’s errand.

But tonight, it was not the end of times that greeted him when he closed his eyes. In its place stood an immaculate hall appearing to belong to some manner of grandiose castle. Pristine and orderly, he sat upon a large throne questionably positioned in the middle of the walkway, facing so that a vast expanse of the hall was clearly within his view.

Had he been here before? It was hard to say, having been trapped by palace walls most of his life they all blurred together after a certain point. Perhaps this wasn’t even a castle, but some manner of fortress. The varying weapons displayed neatly along the surrounding walls certainly made it feel as if this was more than just a mere abode for royalty to live out their boringly opulent lives, perhaps it doubled as an armory of sorts? Every sword, spear, and battle axe looked immaculately cared for; their blades so sharp simply looking at them made you feel as if you had been sliced.

His time to dwell upon the mystery of his surroundings was quick to dissipate however, as he felt a familiar presence approach him from behind. He remained still when a delicate hand was placed upon him, crawling from his arm to slide unhurriedly across his broad shoulders. The caress occupied the entirety of his thoughts, manicured nails scratching lightly against his flesh as they raked across his back, pressing just hard enough that they left a pleasant burn in their wake.

“There you are,” a deceptively alluring voice purred in his ear. Phantom arms draped themselves loosely over his shoulders, their fingers moving to trace a swirling pattern upon his chest. Goosebumps littered his arms at the brief contact. “Were you hiding from me?”

A small smile spread across his lips. What elation merely hearing your voice caused.

Were he not already aware of it, he would recognize he was in a dream from this interaction alone. You, only you, would be welcomed to touch him this way. But even were he to offer invitation, you would never do so of your own free will. There was a mixture of pride and revulsion that kept your interactions with him void of skinship, save for the fleeting contact that occurred when you were locked in combat.

His motivations, the way he chose to experience the world, your differing values and opinions. Like night and day, they barred you from reciprocating his feelings towards you. Because of this, he was left to revel in your touch exclusively in the realm of dreams.

“On the contrary,” he hummed, “you have been the one to keep me waiting.”

A low chuckle reverberated from your chest, sending a shiver down his spine. You rose to your full height, pulling away slowly until you disconnected from him completely. Even if the contact was nothing more than an attempt at provocation, he missed your touch the moment you detached yourself.

“Well then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord,” you enunciated his title tauntingly, the playful lilt in your voice exciting him further. He heard you take several languid steps away from him before you spoke once more. “That is, if you even have a heart that can offer forgiveness.”

Zenos rose to his feet, turning to finally face you. Your back greeted him as you stared up at the myriad of weaponry covering the back wall, the hand that was moments ago atop his chest now gracefully running across the hilt of a long sword. Your fingers lingered on the handle, moving as if you were going to grip it, but never completing the task.

Zenos smiled. You were toying with him.

“You jest,” he spoke, taking a measured step your way, “if anyone has intimate knowledge of the existence of my heart and whom it beats for, it is you.”

Your posture stiffened in acknowledgment of the insinuation, yet you refused to turn his way.

“Is that so,” your voice seemed distant, as if you were unwilling to accept the burden of the intense desire he held for you, “Forgive me, I must have misread the situation. Due to the nature of how our meetings always end, I figured you only ever wanted one thing from me, and that is my blood.”

A low chuckle rumbled from within him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. For all that you were, all the skills and knowledge that you held, you could certainly be dense.

“I desire all you have to offer,” he answered plainly, “Your fury and malice, your rage and rancor, your disdain and desire,” he continued to approach you, each step slow and deliberate as he closed in on your staunch form. “Your love and affection are no different. I want to consume your every thought, just as you consume mine. I want you to taste me in the air you breathe and feel me crawling under your skin, even when I am far removed from your presence.”

He stopped several steps away from you, keeping his distance but lingering close enough that it bordered on intrusive. He raised his hand calmly, reaching out to grab a stray lock of your hair between his fingers. He gingerly caressed the silky strands, smirking when he noted that even such slight contact caused a shudder to lurch your otherwise statuesque form.

“You can play the fool all you want, but you cannot hide the fact that the same beast that dwells in me is also within you. They call out, craving each other to the point of madness.  We need each other. This dance we share must continue in perpetuity, lest our fierce yearning for each other’s presence turn us to savages incapable of rational thought, driven to the point of committing mass, undiscriminating destruction as a means to appease ourselves.”

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss atop the tendrils in his hand, before letting it slip from his grasp completely. “And you would do anything to divert that misfortune, would you not hero?”

Your shoulders began to quiver, shaken by the threat of violence he could and would commit simply to be by your side.  An impatient sigh escaped his lips, “So come, what better way is there to quench each other’s thirst and prevent calamity than through a mutually beneficial rendezvous? Surely even someone as set in their way as you are is in agreeance.”

“I was under the assumption that you planned on battling me until the world was torn asunder, regardless of if I entertain your perversions or not,” Your voice dripped with disdain as you spat your response at him, “If that is the case, pray tell why I should not cut you down where you stand? Why must the dance continue if the outcome is all the same?”

Your words made the smile on his face grow, stretching his lips to an unnatural degree. Taking another step forward, he leaned in until his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. Placing his hands firmly atop your shoulders, he gave a tight squeeze as he responded.

“Because we share one destiny,” he pressed his cheek flush against your head, inhaling deeply before releasing it in a slow, shaky sigh, “even now as you try so hard to deny me, our fate is intertwined, my warrior. You cannot escape me, and I have no desire to escape you. The dismantling of this world as a result of our conquest is all but inevitable and I welcome it with open arms.”

“I won’t let the world crumble to ash.” Your bold declaration was spoken as if it were fact, the conviction in your voice sending a surge of wanton excitement coursing through his veins. “Say and do as you like, the future you seek will never come to pass.”

Oh, how he adored you.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “You can try and stop me, but you cannot escape what has been predestined.”

During the course of the conversation, your hand had had traveled to the base of an axe, your fingers wrapping around it to grasp the handle in a constricting hold. All of the anger that had been bubbling up reflected in the whites of your knuckles, the tremor of your hand becoming more apparent as your composure slipped further and further. The cool demeanor you initially donned had completely shifted, overridden by the immense agitation his presence was inviting.

The axe was ripped swiftly from the wall, lacking fluidity. There was no care for keeping the wall in tact or making sure all the other weapons that surrounded it stayed in their spot. You ripped it down with one great tug, bits of stone and surrounding armaments clattering noisily into a massive steel heap on the ground as you finally spun around to face him. Zenos had seconds to react as you swung down in a wide arc, the finely sharpened blade slicing easily through the decorative tiling that coated the floor, decimating the ground where he once stood.

“There we are,” Zenos growled in anticipation, sizing you up with a bloodthirsty grin, “you are a vision to behold when you let your ferocity consume you.”

You deigned to answer him, your icy countenance his only response as you straightened your posture, considering your next move.  Your distaste for him was clear as you hefted your axe from the ground, dust settling around you as it was freed with a mighty yank. Weapon in hand, you came for him in a relentless torrent, striking at him in a flurry of breakneck swings. In the ensuing madness, he grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach-a sword that was more ornate that functional, but it would serve its purpose for the time being.

The enmity increased as he reciprocated your attacks. Parrying each blow with a steady hand, he responded to your blows with calculated strikes of his own, expertly countering your aggression. The air around the two of you had become electric, charged with hostility and fervor as you hacked away at each other time and time again.

Though frantic, the assault was far from inelegant. Each swing of your axe and swipe of his blade was an orchestrated maneuver befitting the couple who performed them. It was as beautiful as it was fierce, a true force of nature. To an untrained eye the activity would appear as nothing more than a blur of chaos, annihilating all that was in its wake. But to Zenos, a man who had dedicated himself to your study, it was a sight that made his heart ache.

He was witnessing a glorious preamble, a promise forged in battle between himself and his righteous and powerful hero, the only person with whom he ever felt a true connection. This battle, amongst all of its other perks, gave him purpose.

Fighting you, he felt alive. To be the sole receiver of all your ire, your discontent, your undivided attention… it was like a dream. He realized this encounter was most likely just that, a conjuring of your presence from his sleep addled mind, a side effect of his constant ruminations of you. You already occupied each of his waking thoughts, it only made sense that having you visit in his dreams would soon follow.

Be that as it may, the knowledge that this moment lived solely in his mind did little to dissuade his desire to get lost in it, to get lost in you.  If he couldn’t have you in the waking world, his dreams would have to suffice, at least for the time being. Besides, there were things he could accomplish in his dreams that would never be plausible elsewhere, moments of intimacy he could forge that would never present a chance of happening in reality.

A particularly rough blow sent Zenos reeling. The sword knocked from his hand scattered just out of reach, his body lurching to an abrupt stop as he collided with rubble that had piled up behind him. A quick glance your way revealed a small smirk ghosting your lips, a hint of satisfaction shining through your hostility. He could see the assurance reflected in your eyes, a swell of pride over the victory you would soon be relishing.

Zenos mirrored your glee, pleased you were having as much fun as he was.

As you hoisted your axe high, thoroughly preoccupied with your pending achievement, Zenos took the moment to strike. Launching himself from the ground, he rammed his body against yours, hitting you hard and fast. The speed at which he closed the gap astounded you as much as the collision had, causing the axe to topple from your hands, skittering out of your reach. A pained grunt escaped your lips as you collided with the ground, Zenos following suit atop you. His hand cradled the back of your head as you fell, catching hold before it could crack against the stony floor. It would do no good to have you suffer injury and pass out now, not as things were about to get truly interesting.

Positioning himself atop your fallen form, his body caged you in as you lay beneath him, panting and exhausted. Splayed amongst the rubble, your confusion morphed into a look of annoyance as you realized your situation had drastically changed. Your success had been stolen from you and now the thief had you cornered, trapped right where he wanted.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you in this moment,” Zenos spoke between his own labored breaths, pressing into you ever further as his face hovered inches from your own, “Disheveled and feral, transformed by your bloodlust, you have never been more breathtaking.”

“I’m not like you,” you retorted sharply, “I don’t revel in such acts of savagery.”

Zenos chuckled, “And yet you seemed quite delighted moments ago when you were convinced victory was within your grasp.” You frowned as his hand found purchase on your chin, gripping it in a tight pinch to keep your focus fixed his way, “But here you are now, bested and at my mercy.”

You grimaced, “I have yet to lose to you. I refuse to concede defeat.”

In response to your bold declaration, he gave a throaty, booming laugh. How was it that you always knew just what to say to drive him absolutely mad with desire?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Zenos smashed his lips to yours, capturing you in a heated and hungry kiss. Your brain took a moment to comprehend the abrupt action, but as it did you began to struggle against it, thrashing and clawing at him in an effort to create distance.  Zenos remained firm, making it clear that you had expended far more energy than he had, leaving your assault lacking the power needed to stop him. Whines of displeasure snaked from your mouth as his grip tightened on your chin, squeezing so roughly you couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Eagerly seizing the opportunity, he muscled his tongue inside of you, lapping at the inside of your mouth aggressively. He groaned as he savored the taste of you.

When a need for air arose, he pulled back slightly, staring down at you with lidded eyes. Your saliva coated his lips, giving a glossy sheen as they curled into an offputtingly tranquil smile. His hand moved from your chin to drag languidly across your cheek, the brief touch of his rough finger tips sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze wavered the longer you stayed trapped in this awkward position, your eyes brimming with uncertainty. You seemed unsure of where to look, what to do, how to escape. In his wishful thinking, Zenos wondered if perhaps you were even unsure if you truly wanted to escape.

Amongst your numerous charms, Zenos found your enigmatic personality to be one of your most appealing. Being such a virtuous being, your motivations, ambition, and drive were all easy enough to sort out. You are Hydaelyn’s chosen, the Warrior of Light, the people’s champion, and you live up to those titles and more. You are a hero through and through, a source of salvation for those you protect and a complete nightmare for those that offer opposition. There is no doubt that you are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the encounter or situation may be.

And what good hero is without a nemesis? It’s a role the disgraced Prince and betrayer of his kin plays well. In his illustrious life he had gone through the motions, donned many hats, played countless roles, many of which were not of his choosing. But of all his grand titles, your adversary is most certainly his favorite, the only one that gives him any sense of pride. Your existence gave him purpose, and for you alone he kept up the hunt.

But he knew it was different for you. Though cut of the same cloth and driven by destiny to engage him, your feelings did not completely align with his own. You were driven by more than barbarity, more than a duty to save your people and your planet. There was something inside of you, something that made you YOU, that he could never truly know, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

You were his greatest conundrum, a true mystery, and when you look at him as you were now with those eyes that swirled with anger, uncertainty, grief, and something yet unspoken… What was he to do but become a slave to this maddening, consuming attraction?

He gloated about being the victor, but it was clear you would always have the upper hand.

“Get off of me.”

The demand brought him back to the present, sheer determination replacing the conflicting emotions that fought for dominance within you. He could tell by the bite in your voice that your vigor was returning, and given a bit more time and provocation, the battle would gloriously resume.

“Eagar to carry on with our dance, are you?” He responded, an almost teasing lilt to his voice, “Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of defeat at my hands?

“I already told you, you didn’t defeat me,” you glowered, your rage becoming palpable the longer his unwanted presence loomed, “I came here to end this farce and I plan to do just that.”

A beat of silence passed, followed by a sigh. Parting your lips to speak, your voice came out quieter, more desperate than it had previously.

“I wanted to keep this is civil as possible and respect your wishes as best I could, no matter how twisted they may be. But even for your own benefit, you refuse to entertain the notion of making this situation even the slightest bit amicable. You speak of such lofty things as fate and destiny, but all I am witnessing is you causing unnecessary suffering, hiding behind my name to do so.”

For a split second, another flash of uncertainty danced across your features. You bit your bottom lip in vexation, a glimmer lighting your eyes as they swept across his handsome face, “There is more to this world, more to this life, than waiting for its untimely end. To live out your days perpetuating death and blind havoc is no way to exist, it’s a tragedy. Why can’t you see that? Zenos, I-“

As if taken by surprise, you cut your own words short, silencing the previous thought that had been brewing. Zenos felt as if you looked pained, staring at him with pleading eyes, face scrunched up in frustration. Even with all the hate you carried for him, you were still trying to understand him, still clinging to the hope that maybe you could save him too.

Here, on the cusp of annihilation, you were doing all you could to fulfill the role of hero and protect the people that you loved. In order to fulfill that duty, it meant he must be defeated. There could be no other ending, the inexorable conclusion to all of this was always cold and endless death. Whether it would be all of humanities or just his own was still to be determined, but it did little to change the fact that there was no future to plan for, only a violently rapturous and melancholic end.

To be cherished by you, to feel your love as if he were one of your dearest companions… It was a thought not meant to be dwelled on, but one he found hard to completely shake from his head. How would it feel to be earnestly and unequivocally loved by you? Perhaps in another world, another time, your souls would be reborn and given another chance. A fresh beginning to grow together, an opportunity to nurture something more than the misfortune this world had thrust upon you. Maybe in some alternate telling of this tale the two of you were together and happy, with nothing but a bright future awaiting you on the horizon.

But that was simply a foolish daydream. All that he had, all he could hope for, was the here and now.

You sighed again, steeling your resolve with a shake of your head, “Never mind. You have already proven to me mere words cannot move you, so I will save my breath.”

Raising your torso as much as his hold on you would allow, your eyes bore into his, fully accepting the challenge that lay ahead. Though still restrained, there was an aura of dominance that surrounded you. It was a warning to Zenos that your binds were temporary, whether he released you willingly or otherwise was his decision, but regardless the outcome would be the same.

“If it’s the end you want, it’s the end I will bring you,” your soft words clashed with the look of malice reflected in your eyes, your breath fanning his face as your noses nearly touched. For an instant your eyes darted to his lips, and Zenos wondered if it would be you to instigate the kiss this time.

“I will fulfill my role. I will be your end and your salvation.”

Your words pierced him, the proclamation sending sparks of excitement to course through him, igniting his soul. His whole body burned for you, intense and consuming, his need for you was beginning to show itself in ways beyond his control. Pressing his hips flush between your spread legs, he made his intentions known to you, a shiver wracking his body when you released a small gasp of surprise.

Clutching the remaining shreds of his sanity, he grunted as you writhed against his growing arousal, pulling your body up towards him until he had engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“Enough time has been wasted,” he snarled into your neck, his chest rumbling as his grip on you tightened, “let us deliver a ruin unto ourselves so extraordinary, so beautiful, that naught will remain but the scattered fragments of this forsaken world.”

Loosening his grip, he pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste, yet gentle, kiss. Your brow furrowed at his touch, shoulders tensing as you drew yourself back from him, recoiling at the small display of adoration. He found the reaction endearing, even with his intentions laid bare and and his hardened cock pressed firmly against your core, it was the smallest token of his affection that caused you to squirm.

Repugnance, hatred, scorn- whatever you felt for him in this moment, none of it mattered, none of it deterred him. He loved you, and he would make that love known in the only way he knew how, while he still had time to do so.

“This shall be my final gift to you,” he purred into your ear, his grip latching securely to your tunic. With nimble hands he started to pull, exposing yourself to him bit by bit as the fabric turned to tatters in his hands.  “Let us relish it my friend, my warrior, my beloved. Destroy me, and I shall be your devastation in kind. ”

[namusthetic]

Choose one of the authors I would die for

The major deities of my pantheon

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Self-isolates

Has a god-complex and despises themselves at the same time

Takes long walks at dusk when the city is empty, memories of the past accompany them, forgotten ghosts lingering in the dimming light

Complains about everyone

Gives everything an obscure symbolic meaning to be more dramatic

Franz Kafka

Cannot bare to look at their own reflection

Takes every accident in stride, as if they were expecting it to happen somehow

Quiet most of the time, rarely speaks up

Self-destructive

Tired eyes and a faraway look, sometimes doesn't know whether their dreams are reality or reality is just a dream

Osamu Dazai

Unable to establish any relationship

Alienated and detached from the rest of society

Misunderstood

Loses their identity trying to fit in somewhere they don't belong

Spends their days painting and doing art

Albert Camus

Absurdism

Drinks black coffee on the balcony at 5am, listening to the sounds of the city waking up

Nothing matters, so you should experience life and fight to be who you are

Rebellious, bright, isn't afraid of fighting for what they believe in

Heartfelt, contagious smiles

Sylvia Plath

Girlrotting in bed and dried flowers forgotten on the kitchen counter

Goes to parties, but once there doesn't have fun and wishes to be anywhere else

Takes long baths, reading and smoking, until the water gets cold

Burnout gifted kid

Hates men with a patronising attitude, does the opposite of what people tell them to do just out of spite

-------✒️

Head empty, only Sylvia Plath's fig tree analogy.

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting Ch 12 -The Feeling of Safety

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, Vladcard (that’s right, daddy makes his appearance), predator/prey, hunting, ruthless vampire king, romance, Romanian translations Words: 4855 On AO3

I am so excited to finally present this chapter! The premise was planned from the beginning and living rent-free in my head (happy to evict it at last) since I decided to extend this series months ago. I hope you like it! I am no history buff, but I did some light reading on Vlad and the contents of this chapter are also based on how Alucard behaves in Ultimate. A bit nervous, but I hope I got the feels right.

Happy belated Mid-Autumn Festival, fellow Chinese and (other nationalities) who celebrate this occasion! The full moon was beautiful.

Many thanks to @michi-tala for helping me with fine-tuning the Romanian phrases!  @alastorhazbin

“You really are a king?" You asked, incredulous. 

How could this be? A king should be the inspirational leader who guides his nation through strife and peace to glory, the shining star who navigates the tumultuous waters of diplomacy and the horrors of battlefields. A ruler with the intellect to create and uphold the laws, social institutions, and infrastructure to bring about prosperity. He should be someone well-versed in the art of war, yet mannered and cultured to mingle with others in his high society of privilege. 

In other words, someone not quite like Alucard The Boor, who was inflexible about negotiations, poorly socialized, and a stalker to boot. What kind of king had the time to stalk some peasant woman for two years just for fun?

You however had to reconsider your conclusions. The longer you stared at that cocky profile, the more obvious it became that if you squinted, there perhaps was something a little regal about him. He was certainly not lacking in intelligence. And sometimes he demonstrated highly sophisticated mannerisms when he felt like playing the gentleman. He even spoke like a snobby British aristocrat.

Alucard chuckled to himself quietly at your racing thoughts. His eyes closed at the distant recollection of his past. At nearly six centuries of age, he found himself often ruminating about the past, whether as a human or vampire, but when pondering his first life, it was like reliving someone else’s. He remembered the anger, pain, and humiliation vividly. There was regret about his upbringing and later decisions as voivode, even if there were those actions during his reign that were necessary for the survival of his country and Christianity, and parts of Europe continued to view him as a hero to this day. But it all happened so long ago, he barely felt anything anymore, except a faraway, numb regret. 

He was silent when recalling the fresh woodsy scent of the fir trees in his mountains. How he loved to ride through their forests with the wind in his face when he went hunting. His city Târgoviște possessed beauty beyond imagination, before he burnt it down and turned it into a desolate forest of corpses. Perhaps there was some melancholy when reminiscing about his homeland.

Warm fingers landed lightly on the sigils adorning the back of his gloves. Feline eyes opened to narrow slits to watch you looking at him with a questioning stare. It seemed you were finished with mocking his ways in your head.

Flattering child. Innocent little human. You know not of the monster you have involved yourself with, he thought.

“Cetatea (Citadel) Poenari sat atop the mountains. In its prime, it was an impregnable fortress with steep walls that offered a spectacular view of the forested canyon on the Argeș River. You would have appreciated its beauty.”

“Was that your home?” You asked.

“One of them. Its ruins are in what is now known as Romania.”

Wide eyes stayed on him before curving with merriment. “I think I would love to visit your old home one day.” Your wrist flicked in his direction to gesture at his dress clothes. “Did you look like this back then too? There’s no way you dressed this loudly then, right, Your Majesty?” You snickered while putting emphasis on his royal title.

He turned his hand over to grasp your fingers in his. “You wish to see me? All of me?" His brow rose as he evaluated you.

The room chilled suddenly and you hesitated. His shadow was facing toward the light, reaching for you, and the silhouette was wrong. You’ve already seen his flowing shadows, extra eyes, and bats, as well as when he assumed the face of another man. Was there more? Something forbidding was in the air.

“Umm…not the bugs. Please never the bugs again,” you whispered, trying to keep the mood easy tonight.

The orangey-yellow in his eyes spun like molten gold as he petted your fingers before lacing your hands together. Alucard leaned towards you, and as he did, he changed. This was important. Somehow you knew what Alucard was about to show you was intimate, a secret he did not carelessly share with others. You stopped breathing as you watched his transformation happen before your eyes.

Raven locks lengthened until his hair was past his thighs, phantom wind making the ends billow in the air like they were alive. Gangly arms filled out, his chest growing broad and putting on hard muscle in seconds. His red duster turned liquid and flowed over the heavy armour that materialized, settling into a black cape that was as intangible as his tresses at the frayed, surging ends.  

His angular features grew wider at the cheeks, jawline becoming chiselled and covered with coarse stubble. The fiery gaze burned with wisdom and life experience. You had no words as you got a better look at this imposing man who now stood towering over you with his arms at his side.

"This was how I appeared as a human when I perished."

You stared at him from the couch, sitting with your legs in front of you in a “W.” Your mouth was parted as your eyes slid sluggishly over this dark warrior with disbelief. Power rolled off of him. It was in his bearing, the deadly grace with which he conducted himself, and the way the air was not quite right around him.

"You really are breathtakingly beautiful," you told him. 

Alucard purred at your praise and your skin tingled. His rumblings were deeper than normal and it was so unexpected despite his now stockier build. 

“...May I… touch you?” 

Golden-orange glinted with warmth as this stranger stooped down for you to inspect his new body. You tentatively brought your hand up to his face and stroked his cheek. Cold. This Alucard’s skin was still cool to touch. The texture though, that beard was so scratchy. You ran your fingers through his hair, which was as soft as you remembered, but now so long you didn’t even reach the ends with your arm fully extended. 

His name was an anagram. Alucard was a Romanian vampire. Your idiot brain finally made the connection that was in front of you this whole time.

“...You actually are Dracula?” The Son of the Dragon, a king and warlord from the Middle Ages. Probably one of the oldest –and strongest– of vampires.

“You are speaking to Count Dracula of Wallachia.”

You shivered at his voice. Even his accent was different, so foreign and exotic. It did things to you, but your mind had always been stronger.

If memory served you correctly, history did not have favourable things to say about the real Dracula. The Sir Impaler staked people, including women and children, for all sorts of reasons and no reason as well –as a gruesomely effective warfare tactic, for sport, and petty offences alike. He was the king who invited the sick and homeless to his keep for a feast and burnt them alive as a way to empty the streets.

“Yes, I commanded all of those acts in my past life.”

Fright blemished your features and you jerked away until Dracula’s gauntlet shot out to catch you and bring your palm back to his face. He took in the thin line your lips formed and the furrowed brows around your spooked gaze. 

“But that will not be a fate reserved for you,” he promised with a sombre expression. Your eyes searched his face to judge his sincerity, wanting more than anything to continue trusting him after learning his identity, even when forced to confront the reality of the nature of your relationship. 

It was wrong.

The king before you stood tall, his dignified comportment unwavering after the passage of centuries of grim tales told about him. He did not lie to you, nor did he offer excuses for himself. His noble features, proud and uncompromising, were solemn as you contemplated him. 

Alucard never lifted a finger against you.

The warlord’s wicked piety preceded him, his prestige vicious and calculated. Any means to achieve his ends, which left ruination in his wake. Everywhere he went, he sowed destruction and instilled fear, even amongst his own people. 

He was not mentally well.

If Alucard did not care for you, you would be worse off than dead. 

Yes, by showing how he was a murderous vampire, an undead hellspawn who didn't die when he was supposed to.

He was violent and dangerous. What in the world were you doing with him?

You had your wellbeing and that of your family to worry about. What if entwining your fate with his ended in trouble that somehow found its way to them? Even as Alucard, he could be sadistic, harassing and nearly driving you to madness long ago. He continued to enjoy aggravating you and at times made you angry beyond belief.

You should not be with him. Tears came to your eyes.

But time and time again, Alucard came to protect you and went out of his way to take steps ensuring your safety and comfort. He looked after you when you were incapable and let you in on secrets about himself.

You fought with yourself. Alucard and this stranger before you were in fact one and the same. For all his nefarious ways, he did have honour, in his own twisted way. 

You were past the point of right or wrong.

The heart was never rational. You wanted to remain with him. So with an uncertain quivering heart, you chose him too. You got on your knees and went up to this infamous veteran to huddle against his chest, needing to see if the sense of security you felt whenever Alucard was near was present with this form of his too. You couldn’t even look at him.

Vermilion flames smouldered gently without your notice.

A hand went delicately across your back to hold you close for several moments before tracing along your shoulder blades. An arm went around you and settled at your waist. Then multiple shadow tendrils wrapped you loosely around the ankles, thighs, and biceps. You shuddered at the electric contact with his darkness. Prickly stubble dug into your chin as this king claimed your lips for his own. He was as gentle as Alucard. It was comforting and eased your unsettled thoughts.

You finally pulled apart.

“You are timid with me,” he announced, breastplate vibrating with the bass of his voice. 

“Everything we do is new,” you said as you put your arms around an icy plated torso and watched the end of his cape twirl. His lips chased yours as you looked away again. Relaxing into his embrace, you whispered, ”I can’t believe you are real,” as if speaking louder would make him disappear like a mirage.

“The legends have a basis.”

He ran the backside of an armoured finger across your cheek. His expression was soft as you met his gaze again, nothing as severe as his rugged appearance suggested. The shadows enveloping your limbs flared.

“What say you? Would you like to be one of my kind?"

Huh? He meant…he meant turning you into a vampire? And offering you eternity?

Again you tensed. He was serious. The weight of his question hung in the air between you until you gulped and averted your eyes, nervousness tainting the air thickly.

"I suppose it is too soon to ask you this." The hand came to rest on your head where he ruffled your hair. You glanced up at him in surprise.

Dracula smiled at you. "My Darling."

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

The gleaming silver orb above loomed large, illuminating the navy skies with an ethereal haze. The moon was full, just like that first night, so clear you could see every crater on her surface. Your anxiety around Dracula gradually dissipated. He had a much quieter disposition than the normal him, but honestly, a break from his usual provocative ways was appreciated. He was still the same person, you reminded yourself. You began to close the distance between you incrementally and walk closer until you brushed his side with every stride.

It was not yet Halloween. Actually, it was nowhere near that month of haunting. Anyone who happened upon the pair of you would find his full body armour odd. It was mildly ironic for you to comment about Alucard’s unconventional clothing, only for his ‘true’ appearance to be just as outlandish for these modern times. What did you expect? It seemed the king captured people’s attention no matter what he did in whichever era.

The relaxing stroll was picturesque. For once, the streetlights functioned as they should and lit up the quaint storefronts without Alucard’s interference. The boulevards were clean and the summer air fresh, but clamorous with singing crickets. The engines of the occasional car rumbled in the distance and punctured the tranquility. The first vampire let you lead the walk, wordlessly following you through every turn as he sensed your worries ebb with each passing minute, enjoying the way you eventually bumped against him with each step. 

A warm breeze brought the perfume of the faint sweat trailing behind you into his sinuses. His vampiric senses were hyper-aware of your presence, such as how your little heart pumped hot blood through your veins with each thud while you continued to wander.

How he missed roaming the nights together.

Vampires were natural hunters. It couldn’t be helped. Orange gold deepened into a lustrous crimson as his pupils narrowed into predatory slits.

Alucard was no longer beside you. There was only empty space and silence when even the insects fell quiet. Spinning around to seek him, you heard heavy purring in your head as fallen leaves rustled about in a swirling circle around you. 

"What are you waiting for Dear? RUN." A pointy nose poked your ear.

Jumping at the familiar voice, you felt the solid presence of him sighing into your ear from behind as he purred and nudged you.

Oh? He wanted to play? You unfroze with a smile, not needing to be instructed again. You took off, but it was different this time. You were able to see your path well enough to not trip over yourself, rapidly finding a way from the streets where the stray vehicle still roved and into pedestrian side roads.

Unlike past chases, there was no panic or fear. Despite your earlier misgivings, you could barely even remember why you were terrified of Alucard stalking you after all this time together. As you zipped through the desolate night streets, your heart pounded with exhilaration the longer you ran. It felt good to set aside your worries for now and just enjoy your time together. 

Alucard, you are here?

The shadows followed you with ease in the corners of your eyes. The rich, sanguine glow to their edges was a dead giveaway. You laughed as you took a turn leading you someplace you've never been before in the dead of night. With the knowledge that Alucard was with you, the night became a game full of mystery and adventure. 

He caught you by the waist, hauling you back to his chest while the arm that held you slowly slipped up your torso until he seized your breasts. The wandering hands were metallic and frigid against your skin. 

“If this was a real hunt, it would have concluded. It'd be sensible to surrender yourself to me now.” 

You squirmed in his hold with a breathless titter, earning a hiss in your ear and a lick to your cheek before he let you go. You giggled and used the opportunity to slither away and scamper off.

You ran and ran from his harrying; repeatedly he would catch and wrestle with you before you were released. The most brazen event was when he suddenly appeared and let you run face first into him, then stroked languidly down your rear until you found your bearings and escaped. How he taunted you.

Eventually you came to a stop when your breath escaped in soft pants, shirt clinging with your exertion. You looked around for somewhere else to go and perhaps hide so your vampire had to search before bolting again when you didn’t find a spot to your satisfaction. You didn't know where you were going at all, just making turn after turn wherever you could –through unlit alleys and parks and crossing under bridges, until you arrived at a ravine to recover. 

The vampire was nowhere to be seen. You snickered upon hearing something drop and a crackle in the dark. "Y–you don't scare me anymore. Just come out," you gasped out. 

Words that were spoken too soon. Trouble slid out of the shadows as several ruffians leered at you. Forcibly exhaling, you inched back at their appearances, ready to dash away in the direction you came from. Needles, used condoms, and other garbage littered the ground and the air was dank with the stench of old urine and vomit. So you stumbled into the derelict quarters of society’s undesirables, but you did not want their acquaintance.

"Leaving so soon, pretty bird?" One of the skinnier blokes sneered. He was covered in ugly tattoos.

“Why don’t you stay awhile and keep us company?” Another said. He was just as ratty as the first, but smiled as he approached. Their sinister intentions were clear as day, despite the false nicety.

“Yeah, we don’t often have the pleasure of such lovely companionship.” The third stood back where it was too dark to distinguish his features.

I do not appreciate others interrupting my hunt. Leave. 

The muted voice simultaneously thundered and the brutes shouted at the vacant surroundings.

“Who’s there?” 

“Piss off, wanker!” Tough words from the men, but you were already apprehensive not for yourself, but them.

The shadows at your feet bubbled up. 

“What the fuck?!” One of the hooligans hollered in shock at the mass of darkness that grew from the ground in front of you. He glanced back at his friends before squaring his shoulders.

The man crashed into an ancient conifer and was held there several feet off the ground, gasping for breath as he was slowly flattened –his face gave in first, the nose and lips crumbling inwards. It was as if he was submitted to the work of a hydraulic press. He heaved with effort to break free as his eyes bulged and his chest squeezed tight, unable to even scream under the crushing compression.

As you watched in shock, the death happened too quickly to process, yet like time slowed for you as well. His head popped like a gusher with blood jetting from both ears. You saw every detail as the ruffian's body was squashed by an invisible force until even his bones gave out and he became a splatter of viscera decorating the bark. Only a hand remained intact, but even that snapped at the wrist without a surface behind it to counteract the pressure.

You screamed at the crunching horror when it finally ended with a wet splat. 

Alucard rescued you yet again. He appeared nonchalant about his victim's barbaric demise, his stance at complete ease.

“!!!” Your would-be assailants were initially speechless as they jittered back at the supernatural display of violence.

One of the remaining men sniffled, swiping his nose as he howled,  “Arsehole!”

There was white powder dusting the ground and around their nostrils. They were high, which explained the ongoing aggression and bravado as knives came out. Your gaze flickered up to Alucard’s face.

You knew that maniacal grin, the one that reminded you of when you first saw him at work. No. All your fears about him resurfaced. You forgot how to breathe as you darted in front of him to cling to his arm. 

"You can't kill them!" You yelled.

Being with him was wrong.

He paused, the king's gaze sliding to yours with a bored expression. "Why?" He drawled callously.

He was violent and dangerous.

“Because you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why?"

Omfg did Alucard think he was the Terminator? As ridiculous as the exchange was, this was no movie. Alucard’s eyes narrowed as a savage aura flared and pulsed with danger when the remaining two men floundered backwards in jerky movements. Perhaps their sense of self-preservation was still existent.

Dracula’s baleful glare did not conceal his wrath. These worthless lowlives dared not only threaten you, but if it weren't for his presence, they would have violated you in the most disgusting of ways in this dirty scum hole. He knew it, because he could sense their base desires and the opportunistic evil that lay dormant within them. He too was a creature of the abyss who knew darkness when he encountered it. 

Unspeakable rage tainted his thoughts with promised violence. Their perverted longings were the ultimate transgression against you. It was unforgivable. You may be soft and kind, but he was not known for mercy. Rapists should be staked and displayed for others as a warning. 

There were millions of other ways he could end them and The Impaler started listing them. He could telepathically wipe their memories and order them gone, which was always the simplest solution when it came to nosy humans, but he wanted these ones dead.

He lifted his hand before you desperately caught it between both of yours and pushed it down, hoping to hold him back. Your stomach churned from his glower as you imagined what he was going to do to them. How many times was he going to shoot them? Or was he going to rip them apart with his bare hands instead? Would there even be anything left of them when he was satisfied with the mutilation?

“They didn’t do anything to me, I’m okay! Let’s just go home!” You pleaded.

“You do not get to decide who must die, draga mea."

"ALUCARD!"

"Alucard is not here right now." 

Wha-

The crimson gaze flicked back up at the interlopers and blazed with fury as the pair of imbeciles decided it was prudent to use your interference with his punishment as a means to flee. Their human movements were sluggish to his vision and reflexes anyways. He knew their intentions the moment they thought it, caught the twitching of muscles as they began to turn and run in slow motion. Cowards who could not even face their well-deserved execution.

So they should lose their legs first. 

They froze after mistakenly meeting Death’s gaze and receiving the order to remain motionless. The shadows licked at his feet and twisted, rising to whip about in the air. 

Shit. But –this was your vampire. At the same time, this was evidently someone else, a warrior. A king. How were you supposed to address him? Your Majesty? Dracula? That was his title and name. But what was his name? You were frantic. Think! What was it again?! 

"...Vlad…Please don't do this, I beg you…" Hauling all your weight, you threw yourself at him, the tears now falling freely as his tendrils stretched and lashed towards his latest quarries. How did it go from a beautiful moonlit walk together to this bloodbath?!

Through the fog of his ire drifted another scent beyond the putrid fear of his prey. Your fear. He saw the dread in your eyes. Countless others have made the same face while grovelling at his feet for mercy. You however, were not begging for yourself, but the remaining rotten swine behind you. He growled with displeasure at what you asked of him, the mind running feral with imagery of what he wanted to do, waiting impatiently for the miscreants to give him another reason to end them.

The Nosferatu glanced back at you. Your face was the same as that time, when he vanquished the undead that hunted you. He really was a monster. You were afraid of him. 

Upon realizing you had your vampire’s attention, you tried to reach him further. “Just…just take the blood of the one who's already dead. And then…" your voice cracked and dropped to a whisper. "Let's go home. Please."

He focused on everything that was you, on the salt of your tears and sweat overlying body lotion. Your desperation. In the background were the pungent stench of gore and the unwashed bodies of men. The king growled as he stared at you again. It was your second thoughts about what you were getting yourself into by being with him that did it. He snuffed out his need to kill as he came back to himself.

You were petrified about what was next, but Dracula won’t let you regret your decision to stay. He did not wish to prove your trust in him was misplaced or that your reservations about him were well-founded. 

“Since this is one of the only requests my darling little human has ever made of me, I shall grant clemency this time,” he snarled through razor teeth. The paralyzed men cowered at the demon in front of them, at last recognizing how close to Death’s door they came. 

"Vermin such as yourselves aren't worth the effort anyways." The unholy king’s eyes glowed with a hellish light. "Leave," he commanded. 

Under hypnotism, a ring of scarlet surrounded their irises and the thugs slunk away with a dazed expression. They were at last permitted to go through with their flight and disappear back into the bowels of London as his gaze bore holes through the backs of their skulls.

The danger passed. You were hiding behind the vampire, who felt your anxiety when his attention turned back to you. He could not fault your distaste for brutality and death. Despite his blinding fury moments ago, he was unable to maintain his anger with you. His expression lightened.

Silence. 

You licked your lips, trembling with a bone-deep fear you hadn't felt in a long time. “Are you not going to drink his blood?" Staring everywhere except at your saviour, you eyed the corpse of squished organs, bones, and flesh painting the vegetation.

"Do you seek your meals from the gutter?" He snorted, eying the pile with disdain. "Besides… you are more than enough." The vampire grinned, a single fang glinting in the gloom like he just told you the best inside joke.

Your eyes widened at the unexpected change in atmosphere from the offhand comment. Alucard and his mood swings. 

Taking a deep breath to soothe yourself, the tension was slow to leave you. You looked at him again. "Thank you for stopping," you told him with honest relief.

"Little one, you are safe when you walk the night with me. Nothing will harm you," he said as he faced you fully and brushed your cheeks gently.

You held his hand to your face, opening it up and leaning your cheek into the icy steel. He took a step to his right to block the view when you tried to examine the remains of the body turned into slush. A layer of clouds blocked the meager light of the moon so you couldn’t see it anyways. All you saw was the sunset in your vampire’s eyes.

You gulped. The eldritch power surrounding the vampire wrapped around you, and instinctively you knew it was cold, but you felt warm and safe on the inside. It felt like you were home. 

"I believe you." You took the single step to close the distance between you and pressed up flush against the vampire.

Affection kindled in those stunning eyes. There it was, behind the face of another man, this ruthless king, was the Alucard you knew and fell for. Your expression broke as you buried your face in his chest, needing reassurance as the mess that came to pass tonight caught up with you.

He was caressing your head again, tousling it to the beat of your heart when you peeked up at him with dewy-eyed innocence. Resplendent little human, he will shelter you from the horrors of the world.

"Luna vieții mele."

"Pardon?"

"Tu ești luna vieții mele."

You blinked in confusion, straining to try catching the gist of his words, but it was hopeless. Fortunately many Latin languages share some similarities. You were reasonably sure he mentioned the moon.

"Și fără tine, nu există lumină."

How infuriating. If there was something Vlad wanted to say to you, he could just do so directly instead of using a foreign language you didn’t understand for dramatic effect.

"What does that mean?"

He gave you a cryptic smile and offered his arm. “It is time to return." 

Yeah right, like hell it did. He said a lot more words than if he was just talking about going home. You stared at the outstretched arm of a gallant Medieval man, brows crinkling when he did not elaborate. It seemed you would have to figure out the meaning yourself.

You curled in to stay close to him, placing your hand on his arm and weaving your fingers around the crook of Dracula’s elbow so he could lead you home through the dark of night.

~To be Continued~

Ch. 13- TBD? "Stargazers in Romania"

Notes: Alucard really doesn’t like rapists.

Even knowing Alucard shapeshifts, it’ll take getting used to his other forms. It’d be weird if someone just accepts another body/face/voice/personality as their SO upon the first time meeting them, right? At least I think so. The Count is ‘her’ Alucard, for now at least.

This chapter isn't meant to be a character analysis of the historical person's actions, but more the reservations a rational person should have when deciding whether to stay as freaking Vlad III Dracula's SO.

It is admittedly a bit cliche that Alucard is always just in time to save the Reader from her demise, but in my other Hellsing work, she names him her “guide and guardian (angel).” The title is well-deserved.

*The next chapter will be delayed because I will be going on my honeymoon for several weeks. I’ll likely be able to fit in some writing time as we travel between countries. I’ll probably also be using that time to continue planning Part 2 of this story (we aren’t there yet). Yes that’s right, Millennium will feature in this fic, although I will only loosely follow the canon Ultimate events and be taking some liberties with how vampire things work.*

Buckle up, we’re only about half-way. I estimate there to be around 23-26 or so chapters in total to complete this fic, although later chapters will likely be shorter.

[unclewaynemunson]

Scott remembered Wayne Munson. He knew that Wayne wouldn't have a clue who he was, but Scott most definitely remembered Wayne. The Munson family had moved to Hawkins back when Scott was only in elementary school, but he still remembered it. He remembered Clyde better than Wayne, though: the younger brother had been only one grade higher than Scott, while the older brother was already in middle school. Both brothers stood out like sore thumbs in Hawkins: their clothes were weird, their accents odd, and the name Munson soon started equating “troublemaker” – although that had no doubt been more Clyde's doing than Wayne's.

Before Scott even started middle school – halfway through high school for Wayne – the Munson boys disappeared from his radar. He didn't consciously notice Clyde's absence in the school halls, but he heard the rumors: how their mom had died and their dad couldn't afford them going to school anymore, needed the income their hands could produce at the quarry more than he needed their education.

A couple years later, Scott graduated high school and moved to the city to continue his studies. He was smart, always had been, and got a science degree with a grade list that his parents were almost embarrassingly proud of. He went on into grad school, had a promising career ahead of him, started feeling right at home in the city – but one war in a faraway country (which he managed to avoid) and the loss of many friends (who hadn’t been as lucky) later, his hometown started pulling him back by that invisible navel cord that small towns tend to have on people who dream of leaving when they’re still young and don’t really understand what home means.

So he got himself a job as a science teacher at Hawkins Middle School. It was different than the life he had expected, but it was actually good to be back home, good to be with the friends who needed him to help them piece back their broken families or to remind them of the dreams they lost in the tropics. And it was also surprisingly good to find himself back in the halls of his old middle school, to pass on what he knew and to inspire the handful of kids that were actually interested in what he had to tell them, or to light even the tiniest spark of enthusiasm in those kids who didn’t care at all about what he wanted to teach them.

It wasn't until years later that he spared Wayne Munson a thought again. There was a new kid in his class, a boy who transferred a few weeks after the start of the school year. It was his last year of middle school, not exactly an easy time to change schools. The boy had buzzed hair, a black eye and bruises on his arm. The other kids made fun of him: for his clothes, for where he lived, for his voice – they were at that age where they mocked anything worth mocking and relentlessly tore their peers apart in the hopes of ascending on that sacred social ladder. But Eddie Munson bit back fiercely, always loud, never afraid – too difficult a target for the bullies, so it didn’t take too long before they left him alone.

It had been decades, so it made sense that Scott didn't recognize Wayne Munson right away. But he noticed him, when he came to pick up Eddie after his first day, stroking over the boy's buzzed head and crouching down to his height a little bit to tell him something that made the boy smile and nod. It took him a while before he made the connection between the Eddie Munson in his class and the Wayne and Clyde Munson from his youth.

As the months went by, Scott watched Eddie grow: he grew out his hair, he grew a bright, mischievous smile on his face that hadn't been there before but soon became an extension of himself, he grew himself a new group of friends and a band and even his grades started slowly growing higher – high enough to have him just barely move on to high school at the end of the school year, despite most of the teachers' expectations.

Thanks to Eddie, Wayne finally knew who Scott was, as well. They'd greet each other at the grocery store and Scott would always ask Wayne how he was doing when he saw him around the school – which didn't happen often due to Wayne's irregular shifts at the plant. Scott noticed things about the man: how tired he always looked; how he kept his distance from everyone else, but how his features would soften whenever Eddie was around; how he had never lost his accent even after all those decades of living in Hawkins; how he had the same ever-vigilant look in his eyes as Scott's friends who had made it back from Vietnam alive.

It took another few years until he got to know Wayne beyond those superficial grocery store chats or nods from across the street. It took a teenage girl being murdered and the Munson name gracing every headline of the Hawkins Post for that to happen. He read the articles, saw the news, heard the stories - but he didn't believe them for a second. His strongest memories of little Eddie Munson were the times he stood up for his more vulnerable classmates against those bullies: he could still envision how Eddie had been the one to bring the misfits in that class together, proudly calling themselves “freaks” and, as their unofficial leader, always lending the other kids a hand with whatever they needed. He remembered the boy sharing his lunch with Casey every day, getting Judy to the nurse's office when she fell from the swings - he even remembered that one time when the boy brought a pigeon with a broken wing into the classroom to secretly nurse it back to health under his desk. And when he saw those pictures of Hellfire Club, the presumed Satanist cult, he knew all too well that there was no way those tales held even one word of truth. He instantly recognized the freshmen in the picture: Eddie was clearly still herding lost little sheep, like he had been doing ever since the day he set foot into Hawkins Middle School. No, there was no way that a boy like him would have anything to do with what happened to Chrissy Cunningham. But there was something else that hadn’t changed since he came to Hawkins: he was different and he was a Munson. And it turned out that that was still enough for this town to tear him apart.

Scott figured Wayne Munson could probably use some support, so he made a casserole and went to Forest Hills trailer park for the first time in his life. And that was when he really got to know Wayne. That evening, the man talked more to him than Scott had heard him talk all his life: about how this town had shunned and disadvantaged his family every chance it got right from the start; about how Eddie's father had tried - and failed - to beat Eddie's softness out of him; about how life kept repeatedly dealing Eddie the worst of cards and about how Eddie had systemically refused time and time again to let that break him... He held Wayne's big, calloused working-man's hand in his own chalk-covered teacher's hands while the man cried for his nephew. And in the days that followed, he helped Wayne look for Eddie in every place they could think of, without much success; he supported Wayne when he grew more desperate by the day as they kept hitting dead end after dead end; and he supplied Wayne with a near-endless stream of food and coffee to get him through the days in which the suspicions about Eddie kept going from bad to worse.

When he got the call that Eddie had been found, he rushed over to the trailer park right away. The boy was lying on the couch, recovering from his wounds but his name cleared and that bright smile back on his face, and Wayne took both Scott's hands in his own as he earnestly looked up at him and thanked him for everything he had done to help him. The sincere – but above all relieved – look in those blue eyes made Scott's heart skip a beat for the first time in years.

And from his observant position on the couch, Eddie smiled at the two of them like he knew exactly what was happening.

(loosely based on this post i wrote from Wayne’s POV last week)

(Clarkson fandom I love all 5 of you dearly 💖)

[caylinmiraki]

My relationship with The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

I love TotK, I really do. It's fun to play and to explore for a while. But that's it. I kinda have a toxic relationship with this game. It gives me the highest heights just to shove some pretty unnecessary hindrance in my face.

tl;dr: Erasing BotW from TotK was the worst thing they could've done to this game. It's hard to believe that this game's got 5 years of development under its belt. It truly is a disappointing Masterpiece.

I’m just going to head right in.

I absolutely adore a well-written story and exploring new Lands to see what kind of secrets it holds. and am someone who really can't deal with spoilers of any kind, so color me surprised when the second memory I encountered was the one near Lurelin Village where it's exposed that we got a fake Zelda. It felt great to have my theory proven right because I’ve cleared a few Stable Quests before looking for the Tears and figured it out (isn’t very difficult I know). But when I realized that I’d skipped a massive part of this story I was disappointed because I expected a story progression like Botw but ended up spoiling myself with one of the most impactful memories. At the same time, it was so frustrating to see everyone dance on the palm of this impostor's hand while the player knows exactly what's going on and you/Link couldn't do anything about it.

The fact that almost no one recognized Link or even knew of him was also so frustrating; infuriating even. This legendary Hero saved Hyrule along with Princess Zelda in a 100-year-long battle, only to be forgotten? While everyone knows of Zelda? Like, you wanna tell me that the whole time Zelda traveled the lands of Hyrule to learn about the people and forge connections, Link wasn't with her? Her appointed knight that never leaves her side?

I know they chose to basically erase him to make the story less complicated for people who didn't play BotW, but let's be honest the amount of players that fit this criteria can't be more than 5%, and that's thinking generously, so why ruin the experience for the other 95%? Besides a small part of the Zora, the Stableowners, the people at Lookoutlanding, some Shieka, and the Yiga-Clan no one knows about him. In addition to that we also only get two mentions of the champions from botw. Mipha is referenced and I think Daruk gets a mention as well. When I entered Zoras Domain in TotK and saw that they had replaced Miphas Statue with a statue of Link and Sidon (which I find hideous tbh) I was so fucking furious. I adore her and they just pushed her onto some faraway cliff to collect dust. I think Daruk gets referenced in a dialog with Yunobo but that’s it, besides his statue in Goron City. Urbosa and RevalI have been completely forgotten it appears. They could have at least referenced those two regarding their successors having similar powers.

However, I have to say that Gerudo Desert was one of the best areas in TotK with a nice twist to the Questline leading up to the Dungeon. The Desert is being plagued by weird undead monsters and shrouded in a never-ending sandstorm. Gerudo Town is desolated and abandoned and you worry for its citizens. I loved this dreadful approach on the Demon Kings homeland. There are just two things I can't agree with in this new Gerudo Desert.

First, they don't kick Link out of Gerudo Town after the situation is resolved. This clan of proud warriors that cling deeply to their roots and traditions, just let Link walk in and out of Gerudo Town as he likes. It apparently isn't that much of a deal anymore if young VaI were to see a Voi, and saving their Town for the second time after defeating Va Naboris, returning peace to Gerudo Desert, and retrieving their heirloom was now enough to allow him to enter without a disguise? Oh yes, I forgot BotW didn't happen apparently. Secondly, I want female Gerudo clothes for Link. Why would you rob us of this experience? I also strongly feel like they designed the areas in this order Rito>Gerudo>Gorons>Zora it just gets less and less refined throughout the game. I first encountered the Wind Temple and then went to the Water Temple afterward. I felt like I've skydived full speed from the sky islands straight into the depths without a paraglider. Moktoroc was a Boss I'd expect in a meme fight or mod or something, but a fully-fledged dungeon boss..?

Talking about bosses, something I really enjoyed in TotK were the encounters with Master Khoga. He is such a delight to encounter in this game; truly the most polished and lovable character in all of TotK (and BotW in my opinion). He has his purpose, he is silly, sometimes overly so, but all in all, is he a real threat to the inhabitants of Hyrule and Link. For real, Master Khoga and his Clan always recognize Link and engage with him BECAUSE he is Link and not because he just happened to be there. When I encountered Master Khoga for the first time in the depths I was so excited because I remembered that he fell down this chasm in BotW and that the most iconic and best villain in BotW is still alive. I really was just so delighted I think I almost cried (I'm a huge fangirl, leave me alone). He and the Yiga Clan made the Depths their own in the time that passed between those two games. The only thing I would have wished for was that Master Khogas questline could have been a bit longer and that he shouldn't have ended up like in BotW. And what I would have liked was to have one huge Yiga-Clan structure that served as their home base in the depths, like the Yiga Hideout on the surface.

There are just three more things I want to mention that don't sit well with me in this game.

First: the Depths are empty. I want to make each Zelda game my own and play it at least once to 100% in any regard. All Locations, all Shrines, all Lightroots, all chests, all quests, all Koroks (urgh), and so on. I want to harvest everything this game has to offer. But when I was "exploring" the depths in my progressed savestate I just found myself comparing the overworld to the depths to find shrines or lightroots. I traveled from one destination to another just to complete my task and gaining every shrine in the process was a nice addition. Tbh, I don't even know what the reward was for clearing all Shrines. I remember you got some kind of seed or flower from the lightroots tho.

The depths are incredibly dull. What happens in the depths?

1. You get the Autobuild ability

2. Fire Temple (Great design choice btw, very esthetic tho not challenging)

3. Minerus questline

4. Master Khoga and the Yiga-Clan

5. Weird Poe trading Statues (idk if this should count tbh)

6. Lost Woods access

7. Demon King Ganondorf (Daddy)

So we've got 6-7 major events in the depths. An area as big as Hyrule itself filled with almost nothing. You encounter abandoned Mines that always work the same. Search for the chest, pick up some Zonaite, and off you go. Yiga-Clan outposts; kill the Yiga, read the journal, loot the chests, and next. And don't get me started on the recycled dungeon bosses you can now just kill for fun down there. WHY?? I hate when bosses, incredibly strong monsters that are tied to a location as its last obstacle, as its guardian to prevent the Hero from accomplishing his goal, just get reused as an overworld boss. Tho they're so easy to kill a Gleeok is more dangerous. Now that I think about it King Gleeok might just be the most challenging Boss in TotK.

The second thing I would have wished for, but knew it would not happen was for Link to permanently lose his arm and for Zelda to remain a Dragon. I knew it wouldn't happen because Zelda always has a happy ending but it would have solidified TotK as another huge break in the tloz formula. Link losing his arm would have shown just how incredibly dangerous this whole situation really was, even to the Hero of the Wild. A crippled Hero with lost limbs and remains scarred for life (like the theories for the Heros Shade from Twilight Princess) is something Zelda lacks and just solidifies that Link is fucking overpowered and nothing can stop him. Don't get me wrong, I know it's kinda his thing to just be like this and to make the player feel accomplished in saving the land of Hyrule and its Princess, but we’re in the 2020s, and people want some kind of realism, drama, and especially in this case, involvement in the story. The way things are, it just feels like a fever dream sometimes. Might be an unpopular opinion but I'd like to see Link struggle for once in a while. (I know, botw’s basically a summary of Zelda and Links’ struggle to save Hyrule, but that’s not my point here and you know it.)

I know the chances of Zelda remaining a Dragon forever were close to nonexistent, and I think I wouldn't have a problem with this, if the developer had just given us a real explanation as to why, and how this is even possible. Mineru emphasized multiple times, that this forbidden ritual is irreversible and that she would erase herself if she were to proceed. Her decision has such a massive impact on the Story. Zelda went to such lengths to protect her Kingdom and support Link, she gave up everything and she was so terrified but her trust in Link is just so great that she believes that he will at least save Hyrule; her kingdom when she can only provide him with the tool to do so. Only to be reversed because two ghosts appeared. The theory that Sonia and Rauru channeled their energy through Link to reverse Zeldas form like Mineru said is just that, a theory. But aside from Raurus power and spirit residing with Link in his arm, where did Sonia come from? When the imprisoning war happened Sonia was long gone and there were no hints of her spirit being connected to Link or Zelda. It just feels unpolished and the explanation of "magic" isn't satisfying at all.

Lastly, something that bothers me in particular, I don't think many miss this feature. I am a huge fan of the Dark Souls series and challenging games in general. So my disappointment, when I learned that there wasn't a Master Mode for TotK, and there are no plans to implement one in the future, was immense. I would have loved to play through this game with a more challenging note and 100% it that way. I’m really sad about this, would have loved to see improved golden monsters that would have destroyed me and tested my skill.

To end this rant on a positive note, TotK is still one of the best games I've played. Its mechanics and freedom of action are one in a kind and I could spend hours just playing around with ZonaI devices and build the most ridiculous builds. It has really well-thought-out Quests and fun characters to interact with. Link and Zeldas relationship (as an aromantic myself) just feels so fulfilling. I know many people see their relationship and their dependency on each other as signs of a canon love story between these two, and by all means, go for it (that Zelda lives in Links house now is evidence enough. And I ship them occasionally myself)! But for me, the fact that it isn't explicitly said leaves room for interpretation, and, they are just two people who can 100% trust each other and whose lives are so incredibly intertwined that they are just codependent at this point. I love how they've written Zelda and Links relationship.

And my highlight, of course, is Ganondorf and the final boss fight. I adore Ganondorf his design is so incredibly well done, you feel his ambitions and dominance throughout every "encounter" we witness. Though we don't know those ambitions and anything about him besides that he wants to restore the rule of "the survival of the fittest", to be honest. He is pure fanservice I tell you. And I live for this.

The final fight is a (almost) one one-on-one with the Demon King(Just like Twilight Princess, one of the most epic showdowns of all time). An excellent magician who mastered all forms of weaponry just like Link and is even capable of flurry rushing (an ability that many/I thought was Links champion ability in BotW). It's epic, it's cinematic, and filled with surprises. When I fought Ganondorf in the first half, I just assumed we got two phases, and that's it, like in Botw. But holy shit. The second phase started and his health bar just kept going and he looks like THAT with his cocky attitude; brother. The moment you defeat him, and think it's over, you realize what he's about to do but before you can act he just grabs Link, and smashes him through tons of stone, and debris (however he came out of this unscathed; would have loved if he got at least a little injured and then healed by the light dragon or something.) and suddenly you are in the skies facing off against this massive titan of a Dragon. This fight is as challenging as the Dark Beast Ganon fight in BotW but its buildup and the resulting fight high above the surface with the help of Zelda who subconsciously knows it's her destiny to support Link in this fight makes it way better than just a cinematic final showdown. Link manages to defeat the Demon Dragon and after he blows up like a nuke (wtf was that anyway, so awesome!) and Zelda is transformed back to her human form. Link is skydiving to catch Zelda as they plummet from the sky and the moment, he finally reaches her hand and catches her will be forever one of the most emotional and impactful scenes in any Zelda game. Despite its flaws, TotK offers an undeniably captivating experience. With its innovative mechanics, memorable moments, and interesting characters, it carved its own niche within the Zelda universe. While it does leave me a bit disappointed that it ended up like it did, expectations for Zelda Games are always skyrocketing but I still don’t think that we expected too much. I rate this a solid 8.5/10 while every other Zelda entrance is a 10/10.

I love TotK but like I said. It's a toxic relationship and whenever I find myself wanting to revisit this Hyrule I rather play BotW than TotK. Sorry for my rant.

[yumiiyummech]

What's wendy's nationality and where was she born?

she was born in CLOSER CITY! (Yes. I made this up since we don’t see an official real world city lol I think it’s fun)

if FARAWAY TOWN and CLOSER CITY are based in America then she’s part American?

her MOM is from London and her DAD is fully American!