#I have more words in mw for that as well

[azurexsnake]

Also Kashima being such a lil instigator?? Love him

Satoru is so fucking pookie

He’s stupid and adorable and cocky as shit and he’s just a little guy

I’m gonna smother him in my boobs

[loveindefinitely]

O b s e s s e d with need to listen to me. I can't get it out of my head.

I mostly can't stop thinking of soap who is so disgruntled and moody after the whole ordeal. Just absolutely pent up, so he starts acting out, snapping, talking back, that sort of thing. As promised price extends his punishment and it only breaks soap down more and more until finally he's sobbing and begging price to please do Something.

I have no idea where to go from here I just love the mental image of soap acting out when he doesn't get what he wants, maybe price extends ghost and gaz's punishments as well. Says something like "you can thank him for this" and now they're All huffy and upset.

Reader's the only one who is spared so they take out their frustration on her.

Ok i'm done thank you so much have a good day

-🐭

you are a GENIUS omg. ily. this is sososo canon in this mini poly141 verse.

warning. nsfw drabble (cont. ntltm)

because you're so right. soap would be a total bitch afterwards. needy and pent up and kinda jealous that you two are the only ones that got to get off, even though he put so much effort into eating you out. homeboy is stressed.

cue the next morning, where he's grumpy, whiney and just overall being a frustrating guy to be around.

ghost is in the kitchen, fixing up breakfast in the mess, and soap would just come up behind him, nuzzling his head into his neck and pressing his dick against simon. rutting into him kinda, before ghost shoots him a vicious glare. he backs off.

but then, he sees gaz walking in, and he rushes over to him, pulling him into a deep hug. one that was a bit too much for their usual morning interactions.

that's when you stumble in, weary eyed and still kinda lethargic from last night's ordeal.

and soap's not mad, not really, but he's frustrated that you got the better end of the deal.

so, he pulls you in, hands at your hips, before he's assaulting your mouth with feverish kisses. they're frantic, and you can feel how hard he is where it presses against your stomach. you try and pull away, and when you do, the man huffs like a disgruntled pup.

when it's price who comes in next, soap is pissed off beyond relief.

rising a brow, a challenging one, price would ask how he slept. soap would roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath that would have your eyes blowing wide, a little shocked, a little dismayed.

gaz would blow out a deep exhale, extracting himself from the situation, walking quietly over to ghost. which, for once, would be the safest option out of you four.

and price would narrow his eyes, daring soap to keep up his pissy attitude. soap would, of course, because this man has absolutely ZERO self preservation skills.

he'd then have the nerve to ask if he can bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you. just, openly asking, as if you yourself aren't standing right there.

price would simply tell him that he won't be allowed to stick his dick in anything for the rest of the week.

then, he'd stride over to the other two men without another word, tell them the same thing, and get to work cutting up some spinach.

and you'd be left there, gaping, confused, as soap stands with a similar expression. as if he wasn't fully aware that his actions held consequences, and he really shouldn't have been such a brat after last night.

he'd narrow his eyes at you, snarky, saying something about how you yet again evaded punishment.

say something about how price 'dinnae said nothin' 'bout bendin' ye over, aye?" and he'd forcefully bend you over the table, rutting into your back like a mutt, using your body without inserting anything anywhere.

and, with a moment of clarity, you'd realise that gaz and ghost are watching, with a glint of envy in their eyes.

you'd been in for a long week.

this is absolutely shit btw because halfway through writing this my BED BROKE and i think i may have also broken my toe. so this is coming from a place of pain and distress. great idea tho !! thanks for enjoying my writing mwah mwah

[captainlunaxmen]

Dragon's Healer

Chapter 3

Daemyra x female!reader

Dark!Aemond x fem!reader

This chapter is shorter, mostly in preparation for the next one... which is going to be hard...

Chapter summary: Viserys' death creates more plots than expected

Chapter wantings: none in particular, maybe being locked, threat of forced marriage.

Tag list

@k1ttybean

@tojisrealwifey

@sinarainbows

I walk quickly to my chambers, I can't help the feeling of being watched, the way Aemond talked to me was anything but sweet. Almost terrifying.

I close the door as quietly as possible, hoping to finally get some proper rest, I couldn't even leave with Rhaenyra and Daemon, I did promise Alicent to stay with her.

"Why being so sneaky, my love?" Daemon's voice startles me.

"Shit!" I exclaim and put my hand to my chest to calm my heartbeat.

"Hey..." he says softly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing." I say immediately, "nothing, where's Rhaenyra?"

"She fell asleep... a lot happened today." He walks closer, "love, is something wrong?"

"No, of course not." I chuckle.

"What did he say to you?" He asks, turning serious.

"Nothing, my love." I say, not meeting his eyes, focusing more on my dress, eager to just take it off and get some sleep.

I can sense him considering me for a moment before he stops my movement, gently making me turn to look at him.

"You're not staying here." He firmly tells me, I let out a deep sigh, turning away from him again.

"I promised Alicent." I say, sitting to take off my shoes.

"Like I give a fuck about that bitch." He scoffs, "you're not staying here."

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." I snap back, catching myself remembering Rhaenyra's sleeping not far from where we are, I lower my voice, "I can handle whatever crush he might think he has."

"Oh... so I was right, wasn't I?" He smirks, but the clench in his jaw tells me his demeanor is far from playful.

"Yes, fine... you were right." I wave him off, "but it's simply a crush, Daemon, I can handle it."

"Well, I'm not comfortable with you staying here on your own." He says firmly.

"Gods, Daemon!" I whisper yell at him, standing to face him properly, "I'm not a child anymore."

"Exactly." He says, softly. "You're a woman. You're my woman, and it's my duty to protect you."

"I don't need protection here, Daemon." I take his hands, "you taught me how to defend myself, do you not trust your own teaching?" I tease him, to ease his nerves.

"Oh, I trust them very much, I simply don't trust the snakes inhabiting this castle." He makes me hug him, so our faces are closer.

"I know, my love, but I gave my word." I say firmly, "I'm staying. Stop worrying."

He sighs, he kisses me then looks mw dead in the eyes.

"If I hear... that something happened... I will burn each one on them. You hear me?" He tells me.

"I do." I give his lips a peck, "I know you will."

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

I managed to sneak into my chambers before someone could notice me spending the night with the Princess and her husband. We said our goodbyes before they left too.

I also managed to get some more sleep before a bad feeling woke me up suddenly.

I decide to just sit by the window and take some time to think. I feel like something wrong, but I can't seem to put a finger on it.

It could be the conversation with Aemond yesterday, but it doesn't seem to be all.

There's some tension in the air too, I look out the window, down to the stairs, there's no one. It's empty.

My eyes catch movement, I quickly look up noticing I can see Rhaenys' chamber from mine. She too is looking out and she too looks tense.

We lock eyes. There's some warning in hers, she even motions me to look down, to pay attention. Like on cue, people start to walk down those stairs, taken somewhere by the guards.

I look up at Rhaenys again.

"Check your doors." She tells me, a sense of dread invades my body as I immediately rush to the doors. I try to open them.

Locked.

I rush back to the window.

"Locked." I tell her, "what's going on?"

"I have my theories... and I think you'll agree." She says, with heavy tone.

I nod and look down one last time, and when I notice Rhaenys is not there anymore I go back to the doors, giving it another shot at opening them.

I push and pull with all my strength, but unfortunately it definitely, definitely locked.

"Fuck." I curse. I go to my own luggage and look through my things. I must have something to help me open the doors.

Something must've happened to the king. It's the only explanation I can think of. But those people being moved somewhere... something worse is happening.

I stop my movements as I hear the doors opening. Finally.

I turn around, my eyes landing on Alicent, and her look is enough to explain everything to me.

"Lady Y/n." She says, I can hear the grief in her voice.

"Your highness..." I nod, "don't tell me."

"I'm afraid I can't accommodate you." She says, she tries to keep a strong appearance as she gets closer, taking my hands, "lady Y/n, I have a favour to ask."

I see her desperation, I squeeze her hands to reassure her.

"Anything." I say softly.

"I... I'm..." she stutters, "I'm here to ask your support."

"My... support?" I ask, the dreadful sensation is back, so I retreat my hands.

"Your support for Aegon's claim to the throne." She finally says.

"Aegon..? What... what are you talking about?" I say putting distance between us.

"Y/n, please..."

"No." I shake my head, "what..?"

"It was Viserys' wish." Alicent states.

I look at her, shocked, I don't believe her words. It can't be.

"I don't believe you." I say.

"It's true." She insists, walking to me, forcefully grabbing my hands, "please, you have-"

"I don't have to do anything." I grit out, "you want to usurp Rhaenyra's birthright. Are you listening to yourself? That's your father's idea, isn't it?"

"Y/n, in memory of our past friendship, I'm asking you for help." She squeezes my hands, almost scared I could run away, "your marriage to Aemond wou-"

"What?! Marriage?" I finally get my hands free from her grasp and once again distance myself, "I'm not marrying your son. And especially, I'm not supporting an usurper."

Alicent collects herself, takes a deep breath and fixes her dress.

"I'm..." she clears her throat, "I'm sorry, I didn't want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice."

I look at her confused, not having the faintest idea of what's going through her mind.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, putting myself on guard.

"The wedding will take place after Aegon's coronation, I'm sure we could find a dress that will fit you." She says, emotionless. I scoff, loudly.

"Why are you so adamant to make me marry your son?" I ask, "is this a way to make your children love you?"

"It's a good way to show your support in front of the people." She explains.

"I will not be used to support, basically, a robbery." I say, walking to stand in front of her, "I'm not a pawn in your conspiracy."

"You leave me no choice, Y/n." She whispers, forcing herself to move back to the door.

"You always had a choice, Alicent." I tell her before she exit the room. Having it locked. I could hear her say something to a guard, probably to stay put and not letting me leave.

"Fuck." I curse as I pace around the room, trying to find a solution, and maybe not to panic. I want to hit myself for not listening to my bad feelings about Aemond, and for not leaving with Rhaenyra.

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

I don't know exactly how long it's been since I've been locked in my chambers, I haven't seen Rhaenys either at the window, I don't if she was let out or not.

Maybe the moment they let me out for the wedding I can take the chance and run. Unlikely. Too many guards. Also, I can't wait that long.

I look out the window for the millionth time probably, and it's still to high for me to jump.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I mutter under my breath, "why haven't the gods gifted me with wings?"

It's dark outside, if I manage to get out I could easily escape, but I need to exit this room first.

"Fuck!"

Before I can start to panic again, the commotion from outside my chambers startles me. I move closer to the doors, cautiously, to get a glimpse of what might be happening when suddenly the door opens and one of the twins of the King's guard enters, cloak in hand.

"Come, lady Y/n. We don't have much time." He tells me handing me the cloak, I take it confused.

"What... what's going on?" I ask, and in that moment Rhaenys comes into my view.

"Ser Erryk is helping us." She says.

I nod and put the cloak on and follow them out, noticing as I walk out the passed out guard near the doors.

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

Morning comes rather quickly as we walk through King's Landing.

"I won't leave Meleys" the Princess declares, "if I could get to the Dragon pit, then..."

"No." Erryk is quick to shut her plan down, "they'll expect you there, princess. You won't get past the gates."

"He's right." I agree, "he's right, and we can't risk losing you like this. Meleys knows you're not abandoning her, and they won't lay a hand on her for sure."

She looks at me, sadness filling her eyes. I can't understand the bond between a dragon and its rider, but I can understand it's strong. I gently take her arm and lead her with Ser Erryk, letting her squeeze me to get some comfort.

"Come, you must make for the riverfront and find a ship. Before they know you've gone." Erryk explains and I nod my head in understanding.

As we walk through the stroll of the city we hear guards screaming, ordering people to move. A sea of people almost surrounding us, we try to find another way, Erryk takes our hands to safely lead us away, but the amount of people pushing and walking separate us.

"Stay close to me." Rhaenys tells me, grabbing my arm painfully tighter. I don't intend on losing her here among the people so I ignore the pain. I try to look back and see if I can catch a glimpse of the Knight, but he's too far and too stuck to get to us.

We have no choice but to follow the people.

"Where are we going?" I ask and Rhaneys looks up and around.

"Dragon pit." She says, I looked at her, sensing the determination in her and I sigh.

"The coronation..." I say, "well... maybe we can use the distraction then."

"Indeed."

So we walk with the rest of the people towards the Dragon Pit. Once we get there almost the entire building is filled with people, curious to hear what happened, what the news is.

"People of King's Landing." Otto's voice resound inside, "today is the saddest of days. Our beloved king, Viserys the Peaceful, is dead" everyone in the audience lets out sad and surprised noises, but Otto continues, "but it is also the most joyous of days, for as his spirit left us, "I roll my eye, always the theatrical one, "he whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon should succed him.

I sigh and look at Rhaneys, her having the same confused look as me. The audience is just as confused, but eventually starts to applause while the guards enter, creating a path for Aegon to walk through.

I take an attentive look at him, he seems nervous, almost reluctant too. One thing was certain: he himself didn't ask for it. Though, I'm afraid of what power could do to him. What scares me the most is how easily his dear Grandfather could manipulate him.

"It's our chance." I feel Rhaenys pulling me to the sideand down the stairs to where the dragons are kept.

Not being very familiar with the place I let the princes lead me down and once we get to Meleys I can't help but freeze.

"Come." She tells me as she gets ready to ride her dragon.

"I..." I stutter a little, "is that okay? Will she be okay with me riding with you?"

"You sell yourself short, my lady." She tells me, "you got an affiliation with dragons, they can feel it. Now come, we have no time to waste."

I take a deep breath as I follow her up on her dragon.

"Let's go, Meleys, fly." She orders in Old valyrian and her dragon immediately complies, "hold tight."

The dragon takes off and I close my eyes waiting to be out of the caves... out in the Dragon pit.

The dragon's roar is mixed with screams of terror from the people taken by surprise as they run to safety.

I open my eyes, I look down the the royal family standing there.

"Open the doors!" Otto screams.

"We have to go." I tell her.

She doesn't respond, only stares at them. I loom down again, my eyes catch Aemond's. He looks furious, hurt too, but there's something more sinister in him now, something that makes my skin crawl.

I see Alicent stand in front of Aegon, expecting Rhaenys to burn them all. Instead Meleys only roars loudly, making them tremble in fear, then she turn around and flies out.

To Dragonstone.

[cod-dump]

According to his 2019 biography, Alex (mw, not Mason) cut off contact with his family when he started working with the CIA. He's changed his name numerous times because his work relied heavily on keeping everything secret. "Alex" might not actually be his real name for that reason.

So imagine a conversation where Farah finds out Alex wasn't the name he was born with, and that what his family's up to isn't something he has any idea about. His entire life revolved around the CIA, he changed parts of his identity for it, and then he abandoned that so quickly to join her cause and almost die for her. More than once.

"Farah, I have something to tell you," Farah was a very intelligent woman, but Alex still felt he needed to be upfront with her, to be honest.

"Hm, what is it?"

It was a calm day, sweltering heat with a hot breeze that didn't help anything. Everyone was inside and trying to avoid having to be outside, at lease Alex was.

"You know I'm CIA, or that was."

"Yes," she didn't seem concerned about anything he had to tell her. She trusted him or was able to read his tone well enough to know it wasn't anything serious.

"Well, for my work in the CIA, I moved around a lot. Changed my name a few times."

He paused, waited for a reaction. Farah did turn her body away from the fan she was hunched in front of to fully address him. Calm, she was calm. But she was also curious now.

"My name isn't actually Alex," those words didn't want to leave his mouth, stuck in the back of his throat like a cough that wouldn't come.

Farah stared at him before she said anything. She stared long enough for him to start sweating from more than the heat.

"Your name is Alex."

He went to object, thinking she wasn't understanding what he was trying to say.

"You're my Alex. I do not care who you were before, I did not know you then."

He felt his heatbeat quicken, heat on his cheeks. She smiled at him before she turned back to her fan.

"You're CIA, I know what those types get up to. Doesn't matter to me. I know who you are."

"Each of my identities-"

"Is not the one you are now."

"No..."

"You're honest with me, I know you don't lie. I know the man that I've been with, I know who he is now."

Alex swallows, "I can't lie, not to you."

Farah looks over her shoulder and smiles sweetly. Alex sighs, how else would've this gone? Of course she's calm, unbothered. He would lean against her if the heat wasn't so unbearable. So instead he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, leaning away to rest against the couch.

"Are you not at least a little bit curious?"

"Same handsome face."

He snorts, "What about who I originally was?"

"Do you want to talk about him?"

Alex blinked, staring up at the ceiling. He left that part of him so far in the past he couldn't bother to remember it sometimes. But he felt that need to be honest, to be open.

"I... don't, actually."

"Then don't talk about it."

Farah had always lived in the present, looking to the future. Here and now, that's what mattered to her. He loved that about her.

[spookysteddie]

The Very First Date

Modern!Steve Harrington x college!fem!reader

Part two to "lemon drop martini" ... Read part one here

18+ MINORS DNI

desc: you finally call Steve for that first date. And it goes better than you imagined

cw: alcohol mention (reader is not in the slightest drunk), slight Dom!Steve, cocky!Steve begging, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie. (let mw know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I hope y'all enjoy this! based off of this ask who asked me for a part two a while ago (I am so sorry). My writers block has lifted after like a year and here we are! So expect more fics soon!

...

Three days. 

You’d waited three days before calling the number on the napkin. 

Well that’s a lie. You actually called the number the next day (after eating a greasy meal, drinking a shit ton of water, and downing some aspirin… nothing like a hangover) from your roommate Alixs phone. But the second he answered, you hung up very fast. 

Alix, of course, called you a little baby back bitch and told you that you needed to call him. That it’d be nice to have some perks around your little college town. 

You rolled your eyes at the sentiment. 

To say you were nervous talking on the phone with him would be an understatement, in fact you were shitting myself. Scared he’d be able to hear it in your voice how nervous you were. Or, worse, that he wouldn’t remember you. 

Four days ago: 

“This is Steve Harrington speaking. How can I help you?”

You took a deep breath, putting a smile on your face in the hopes it’ll translate through the telephone.

“Hi, Steve. I-it’s y/n. From the bar the other night.” You cringe at the slight stutter and the wave in your voice. “You gave me your number on the napkin.” 

You can practically hear the smile in his voice, coolness seeping from his voice, “lemon drop martini girl. Of course I remember you, sweetheart.” 

You quietly sigh in relief that he remembers. 

“Oh good! I’m sorry for not calling sooner. I was a little hung over and then I had to study and take exams. Finals season.” You laugh awkwardly, cursing yourself for rambling and making a fool out of yourself. Alix would be rolling her eyes. 

Steve laughs on the other end of the line, “ah yes. I hated finals. Very frustrating. Hence why I dropped out, much to my fathers dislike.” 

One thing about you is that you love oversharing. But you love when other people overshare even more. There’s nothing like bonding over a trauma dump. 

You giggle into the phone which makes Steve giggle too, the sound mimicking a sweet song. All you want to make him do it again. 

“Anyway, sweetheart, I was wondering if you had plans for Friday night?” His tone is cool and relaxed. You could only wish to sound like that. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, words failing you for a moment. “Oh! Um, nothing actually.”

“Perfect. Hows ‘bout you and I go on a little date? I know a great place. Kinda fancy. What do you say?” 

You could kick your feet like a little girl at the prospect of going out with him. You, also, are tempted to make him wait. To give him just a little bit of a hard time. It was what you'd usually do to the men you like. But there was something in the back of your mind begging you not to. 

“I-I would like that, Steve.” 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7. Give you time to study and get ready. Take a nap even.” 

…

 “I can’t do this. I can’t go. I mean, fuck, I have nothing to wear.” 

Nothing to wear was an understatement. You could hardly see the floor of your bedroom, clothes littering it with only a small path for where you keep walking from the mirror to your closet. 

Alix sits on your bed, drinking some wine and eating some popcorn. “I liked the black leather. I don’t know why you won’t just wear that one. You look hot in it.” 

You slide your hands down the front of the blue, sequence dress you have on. “I just feel like that’s not enough. And isn’t it a little … short for a dress for a nice restaurant?” 

Alix shrugs, “I mean, probably but who cares. You look hot.” She sips her wine and says again, “well you look hot in everything.” 

You look over at her, “while that’s sweet, he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes and I need a few shots to calm my nerves so help me pick a dress, please.” 

She rolls her eyes at my dramatics, downing her wine. “I think you should wear the short black one you wore two weeks ago. Not the leather one, the velvet one. Makes your ass look great. Oh with your Louboutins! You spent a lot of money on them and have worn them once. It’s a sin.” 

One thing is for sure, you did spend a lot of money on them, charging them to your dads credit card. 

One change and two shots of vodka later, you were walkin down the steps of your condo to an awaiting Steve. He’s in dark jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray jacket. His hair is just as perfect as the last time you saw him. (which was via instagram… gotta do the research right?)

He whistles long and low as you approach, and in a quick stroke of confidence you decide to do a little spin. He claps slowly as you face him and so, you bow. Just slightly so you don’t accidentally flash him. Not the way you want to start this date. 

“Well hello to you too, Harrington,” you say as you smirk. 

He slips his hand in his pockets, a smirk on his lips that you feel right between your legs. “You look very pretty tonight, sweetheart. I mean you’d look pretty in a potato sac but,” he shrugs. “We should get going.” 

You smile and nod at him. 

And the bar is clearly in fuckin hell, because him opening the door for you makes you want to jump his bones. But then again, no man has ever opened a door for you so… we can let it slide. 

“Such a gentleman.” “Chivalry is not dead sweetheart.” 

… 

Steve is very thoughtful. Sure, he asked all the usual questions you ask on a first date. 

What’s your major?

Do you have any siblings?

What do your parents do for work?

Oh, your dad is in sales? Funny mine too.

He gives you guilt money? Mine too! Look at us 

He also, orders you and him a bottle of wine (he has great taste) but lets you order your own meal (again the bar is in fucking hell). The place he takes you to is nice and the food is the best food you’ve had since you left home after summer break. 

“So Steve, what made you decide to open up a bar in town?” You eat a spoonful of dessert, eyes never leaving his. 

He takes a spoonful of his own dessert. “I was sick of working for everyone else. I knew if I made a unique bar, something you and your friends have never seen, others would want to check it out. Then you’d tell all your friends, who’d tell their friends, etc.” He grins as he talks, keeping eye contact with you. 

It felt like a game of ‘who is going to look away first.’ A game you weren’t going to lose. Slowly, you pull the spoon out of your mouth, dipping it back in to your dessert. “Interesting. Great concept if you ask me.” 

He huffs a small laugh through his nose, “I’m glad you enjoyed my bar.” 

You scrunch your brows, the wine making you bold, “who said I enjoyed it?” 

Now he really laughs, “you seemed to really enjoy all those lemon drop martinis. So much so you had a hangover the next day. I tried giving you waters but you threatened to gut me.” 

Your jaw hangs open, “fibber.” 

“I haven’t been called a fibber since I was a kid,” he smiles. “But yes you did tell me you would gut me. And then you left and I thought I’d never hear from you again.” 

You can’t help but feel slightly guilty inside for not calling sooner. Well, you did call sooner but chickened out. 

“And here we are.” 

“Yes, here we are.” 

He seems to think for a moment, sipping his wine (one he ordered that would go well with the dessert. He was right.)

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” He looks up at you through his lashes, tongue rolling down the inside of his cheek. 

He wasn't��� demanding. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that you could turn him down. That he would take you home with a smile on his face. There would be no fuss, no fight, no name calling. No pressure. 

And for that very reason, with a smile on your pretty face you answer him, “yours or mine?” 

… 

You’re not even through the door of his apartment before his mouth is on yours, his large hands on your face. The kiss starts soft, testing the waters and it isn’t very long before you deepen it. Your tongues dance but there is no fight for dominance, you let him win. You want him to win. 

His lips trail over your jaw before slowly moving down your neck, gently nipping at your skin. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he says in between kisses. 

He sucks a bruise into your shoulder, easy to cover up, just in case. You let out a soft moan, hands coming up to tug at his hair. 

“You-you’re pretty too.” 

You can feel him grin against you, head lifting as his body cages you in, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me pretty. Well besides Eddie but that was mocking.” 

You laugh, moving in and kissing him slowly, sweetly, “you are a very pretty boy.” 

You can feel his hard dick jerk at the sentiment, and you keep it as a mental note. You know, just in case you need it. 

“Fuck, can’t say shit like that.” 

“No? Why not?” 

“Cause it makes my cock hard. And it’ll be very embarrassing if I cum in my pants. Can't ruin my reputation.” The smirk on his face makes you almost pass out. You swear to God you can feel every word in your core. 

“Hmmm, we can’t have that can we?” You push his jacket off his shoulders before running your hands down to the hem of his shirt. “Should take me to bed so we don’t risk you cumin’ early.” 

It’s all the permission he needs. His lips are back on yours, his hands under your ass and picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands in his hair as he carries you to the bed. 

He puts you down gently, his lips never leaving yours. Not for a moment. Not until he pulls away to tug his shirt over his head. You take the moment to take him in, his body lithe and toned.  You also can’t help noticing the scars on his side that look a little like bite marks. Bite marks from something that isn’t human, something you make a mental note to ask him about at a later date. 

“Sculpted from marble, god damn.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, never wanting to stroke a man's ego. 

Steve just grins as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down slowly down, his knuckles slowly touching your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You shiver under the touch and he notices. You’re quickly learning that Steve notices everything.

It isn’t long before he’s pulling the dress down your body, leaving you in only your underwear. Underwear that barely covers you, a wet patch on full display. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed. 

“Are you this wet for me?” His tone is mocking and he’s practically cooing at you, “go on. Answer me.” 

Your eyes widen. Men have been demanding in the bedroom, plenty of them thinking they’re little tough guys. But none of them get that from you, none of them deserving. You’re not sure why you want to give that to him. You’re not sure what makes him different. And honestly, that is a problem for future you to talk about in therapy. 

“Yes,” you reply, voice a little higher than usual. “S’all for you.” 

The smirk he gives you makes your heart speed up. “Such a sweet, pretty thing. God, I want to devour you.” 

His lips move to your chest, sucking a peaked nipple into his mouth. You can’t help but arch into his mouth, a small moan falling from your lips, his hand coming to play with your neglected breast. And it isn’t long before he swaps sides, his teeth nipping and sucking. 

“Please. More.” 

He laughs, moving to oblige you and kissing down your sternum before settling between your legs. “May I?” 

Him asking makes your heart stutter in your chest, “yes. God yes. Please.” 

Steve tugs your underwear down your legs, tossing them to meet the rest of the clothes on the floor. “I think I could get used to praying to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he licks up your cunt, stopping at the top to suck on your clit. The moan that comes out of you is loud and you’re thankful the windows are closed. “Fuck, Steve!” 

He pushes a finger inside of you, curling them to reach the spongy spot inside you. “And you moaning my name is even better. Why don’t you do it again, angel” 

He pushes another finger inside you, the burn causing you to grip his hair. “Steve please!” 

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

He moves his fingers faster, continuing to hit your sweet spot over and over again. His mouth moves to your clit, sucking gently. He keeps his eyes on you, observing, listening to every sweet moan and sigh that comes out of you. He files them away in his brain so he never forgets what drives you crazy. 

“Need to… I-I need” 

He sucks hard before pulling back, “need what? Go on, use your words.” 

You gasp, “to cum. I- please.” 

Begging wasn’t what you did for men. If anything, they begged you. Begged you to let them cum. 

Steve doesn’t say a word, just grins and uses his free hand to press on your stomach. That is your undoing. “Steve!” You pulse around his fingers, breath getting caught in your chest. You feel warm all over, head emptying as he works you through it. 

“That’s it baby. That’s a good girl. Bet that feels so good doesn’t it?” 

You try to answer, you really do. But all you can manage is a small nod. 

“Gonna let me fuck you?” 

Again, you can only manage a nod. 

“That’s my girl.” 

And before you can even process his words, he flips you over on your stomach, hands pulling your hips in the air. You’re on full display for him. He can see everything. But you couldn't care less, all you want is him inside you. 

And you get your wish. He moves slow, making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He’s big and you can feel every inch of him stretching you. It’s a tight fit even with how wet you are. 

“Holy shit this pussy is amazing baby. Squeezing me so tight.” 

His other hand braces himself by your head before dropping down to his forearms. He’s so close to you now, inside and out, his hips moving slowly so you adjust to him, and his breath fanning across your face. 

“F-faster. Faster.” Your hands rake down his back, nails digging into his back, making him hiss. 

He snaps his hips faster, grinning down at you. “Just so needy huh?” 

You nod feverishly, “yes. F-feels so fucking good.” 

He laughs at you now, kisses you. “Such a dirty mouth, baby. Pretty girls aren’t supposed to swear.” 

“Says-says you… swear all the time. L-like a sailor.” 

He hums. “Dirty mouth for a dirty fuckin girl.” 

“That-that’s me.”

He fucks you faster and you feel like coil growing tighter and tighter inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, not wanting him to get too far away. He groans and you can tell he’s close. 

“Want… no need you to cum inside me. I’ll d-die if you don’t,” you beg. You know you’ll probably regret it in the morning, all that you’ve said here in this bedroom. But at the moment you can’t find it inside you to care. Mainly because he was taking up every inch of you. 

“Yeah? Need it? I’ll give it to you baby. Will give you anything you want.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the edge, walls clenching around him so hard he falls with you. A mutual “fuck!” falls from both your and his lips. 

You're both panting as you come down from the high. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses you sweetly. Suddenly Steve is giggling, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“What? Why are you laughing?” you ask with just a little bit of worry. 

“I am so fucking glad you ordered a lemon drop martini.”

[headachecat]

Would love to see your Rook dealing with any jealousy/insecurity about Neve and Lucanis flirting if you believe it would exist. This is my obsession. My MW Rook looks up to Neve almost as much as Bellera does and had been flirting with Lucanis and then realises they are flirting and is like. Well I've got no chance. But is also devastated.

I keep playing in my head my Rook withdrawing and giving them space to be respectful and Lucanis being entirely oblivious and confused and ways it is resolved

There was a way about Neve that made your heart flutter in your chest. For some, it was the insecurity she brought to light with her talk, as if she knew all the secrets your mind was hiding before you were even aware of them yourself. For others, it was the blush she evoked on their cheeks with a confident flirt, fully aware of all her traits and the effect they could have if used properly. But for Rook? Well, for Rook, it was the intrigue of her smart talk, her mind, and all the things she held so much knowledge about.

In the midst of the chaos that spurned around them ever since the collapse of the ritual, there were stolen moments of respite where they exchanged their favourite pieces of information — random facts, obscure history, fragments of thought that felt too precious to waste. Rook found herself captivated, caught between wanting to learn more and marvelling at Neve’s sharp wit and how it made everything feel significant. She could make a passing comment about an old text, an anecdote about an ancient discovery, or even a sharp critique of a flawed argument, and Rook would be left reeling, turning the words over in her mind long after. She could have picked Neve’s brain apart for hours. But there was always something eluding her, something hidden, untouched, unshared – a mystery that lingered just out of reach. Something Rook just couldn’t uncover. Maker knows they flirted here and there, but it all soon faded away with the arrival of newer additions to the party. The camaraderie shifted, new bonds formed, and those playful exchanges became fewer, buried beneath the weight of their shared mission. It wasn’t the first time Rook found herself pushing romance away for the greater cause, and it would probably not be the last. There was always a battle to fight, a crisis to resolve, and a part of her had come to accept that her own desires would always take a backseat to the larger picture. There would be an appropriate time for the right connection, she told herself – maybe after the Gods were dead, when the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of destruction. Such is life, and she never gave it a second thought. Until Lucanis.

It was the small things. The tiny acts of service that Rook held so close and so dear to her heart. The thoughtful notice of her favourite drink, set aside just for her. The breakfast left by her seat at the kitchen table on mornings when she barely had the energy to rise. An extended hand to help her cross a fallen bridge, steady and unwavering. He was always there, always steady and caring, with a quiet kind of affection that spoke louder than words ever could.

So, she cared in return. She cared deeply and truly, as she found herself looking for him whenever time allowed, just to see the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that softened her world. She lingered near while he cooked, not just to watch, but to lend a hand where she could and to help him clean as he worked his way through his recipes. She made sure to give back the love he so willingly poured into others, crafting small moments of her own to show him he mattered. A new edition of his favourite novel hidden under his pillow, for when he couldn’t sleep. A story told just to make him laugh, as he covered his face in amusement. And when she caught the faint glimmer in his eye – a quiet sense of ease, a glimpse of comfort that told her he felt at home with her—her heart swelled.

One afternoon, she felt herself falling for him, as she came by the pantry to collect his empty cups. He greeted her with a soft smile, the kind that warmed her more than she cared to admit, and thanked her for her help as they carried the dishes to the sink. Without a word, as if guided by instinct, Lucanis reached for a piece of bread and a jar of honey from the shelf. His hands moved deftly, spreading the honey and slicing a few pieces of fruit, placing them neatly atop the bread. It wasn’t elaborate, but it was thoughtful.

‘Here,’ he said, offering the plate to her with a gentle tilt of his head. ‘You’ve kept busy today. You should eat something.’

‘I wish I could take you home after all this,’ she joked, resting her hip against the counter with a teasing grin, as she tasted the fruit. ‘Would you consider becoming my personal chef? Although, it would pay less than your current occupation, I suppose.’

Lucanis chuckled faintly, drying his hands on a rag, but his next words came quieter, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. ‘Letting me take care of you would be enough of a payment.’

The air shifted between them as he looked up, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than usual. His eyes scanned her face, searching – perhaps for her reaction, perhaps for reassurance, or maybe even rejection. His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say more, but uncertainty lingered in the silence, holding his next words at bay. For now. That was enough for Rook. She smiled widely, tilting her head with a lighthearted wonderment that softened the tension. There was no need to push, no need to rush. She would wait until the words became clear for him, however long it took. And in the long run, it was the words exchanged between Neve and Lucanis that Rook started to notice first. The soft tease hidden beneath the guise of casual conversation. The laughter that lilted through the air, over-the-shoulder banter exchanged as the two playfully flirted with each other during their travels. It was effortless, natural, and it tickled in a way Rook couldn’t quite name. It was something she and Lucanis had never shared. Something, perhaps, she was waiting for. 

She didn’t worry much; it wasn’t like her. It was more of a quiet, bittersweet acceptance she felt deep within her chest, because how could she fault him? She had fallen under Neve’s spell too, after all. So how could he not?

But the feeling lingered deep inside her. She longed to see him, to talk, to touch. No one had made her feel the quiet yearning, the timeless depth of affection that grew stronger with each shared moment. Rook had always loved deeply, with a steady and enduring strength, and now was no different. There was little to do but make it clear.

The party stepped through the Eluvian, the echoes of their shoes radiating around them in a cacophony of dull, resounding thuds. ‘Where. Are. Lucanis and Darin. When we. Fight. Antaam,’ Rook groaned, dragging herself to the nearest stone column and collapsing against it, her staff clattering to the floor beside her. She could feel every single bone in her body protesting, her muscles aching with exhaustion as though they might simply refuse to carry her any further.

Neve, still catching her breath, let out a soft, relieved laugh. ‘They’re probably at each other’s throats somewhere. Care for me to find them?’ she offered, brushing back a loose strand of hair from her damp forehead. Bellara, looking no less worse than her companions, heaved a sigh as she trudged to the Lighthouse entrance door and pushed it open, leaning heavily against the frame for support. ‘The only relationship I’m interested in tightening right now is the one between my head and the pillow’ she muttered. Rook winced as she straightened herself with great effort, her legs groaning under the weight of her own body. ‘I got it,’ she said, brushing herself off. ‘They are probably in the kitchen. Need to find myself a bite to eat regardless. And some bandages.’ Neve followed closely behind, her tone carrying that unmistakable smirk. ‘And some Lucanis.’

Rook paused, glancing up at her with a weary chuckle. Of course, Neve knew. She always did. There was no use in hiding anything from her – not that Rook ever had much success in trying. ‘If I’m the lucky one, huh?’ she shot back, raising an eyebrow playfully. Neve shrugged, her lips quirking into a knowing smile as she looked down at Rook, her tone light and teasing. ‘Luck is what you make it, Rook!’ she said with a wink before turning and ascending the stairs.

But the mirror claimed the opposite. Rook caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the reflection in the hallway on her way to the courtyard exit. Her hair was tangled and streaked with blood, her face bruised, and her armor scuffed and torn in places, crying out for repair. She made a mental note to drop it off with Harding before heading out again. Maker, she looked disgusting, and definitely most unlucky. The kind of worn-down, battered appearance that would make anyone else wince. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care – not after the day she’d had.

Her feet carried her further through the courtyard, her boots crunching against the gravel. The kitchen loomed ahead, a safe haven she desperately needed. She placed her hand gently against the cool steel door, ready to push it open, but paused, her ears catching the sound of voices drifting from within. She couldn’t make out the words at first, only the soft, muffled rhythm of conversation. The tone was light, familiar. It wasn’t loud enough to be an argument, nor strained enough to be serious. Something about it made her pause, her hand still resting on the door, as if some part of her wasn’t quite yet ready to step inside. 

‘Lamp oil. Everything stank of burnt tentacles for miles after.’ Davrin’s voice sounded relaxed. Amused, even? That alone peaked Rook’s curiosity. She stepped into the kitchen, her shoes making a soft scuff against the worn wooden floor as her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside.

‘Rook!’ The Warden turned towards the entrance, a bottle of wine swaying precariously in his grasp. Lucanis sat beside him, lounging comfortably, a cup nestled in his hands as though it had always belonged there. His usual cautious demeanour seemed to soften under the warm haze of the drink. Rook approached them slowly, her hands settling on her hips with a hint of playful reproach. She couldn’t stop the side smile creeping onto her lips. ‘If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me first.’

Lucanis looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. She could feel a comfortable warmth spilling over her heart, a gentle pull in her chest as she studied his big, brown, yet currently murky eyes. They were soft, unfocused in a way that made her smile, and for a heartbeat, it felt like she was the only one in the room.

‘It’s not a good bottle,’ Davrin’s jest broke the moment, drawing Lucanis’ attention away. The Crow blinked slowly, clearly unfazed, and gestured towards the pantry. ‘Might have to pick up a supply. I have a feeling we’ll need it.’ Rook nodded, the smile lingering on her lips as she turned on her heel, her feet dragging just slightly as she made her way to the shelves. She reached for the first bottle of wine her fingers brushed against, not even bothering to check the label. ‘Is anyone else hungry? Maybe I should cook something?’ Lucanis’ remark made her chuckle under hear breath. Even under the influence, he couldn’t help himself.

Davrin cleared his throat, shifting in his chair and getting comfortable once more. His gaze darted toward her, completely ignoring the question hanging in the air. ‘What about you, Rook? What’s the worst job you’ve ever been on?’

‘You’re familiar with how this whole thing came about, right?’ Rook’s voice was steady as she moved about the kitchen, the sounds of utensils and the clink of ceramic hurting her ears. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her companions were both listening, then turned back to continue her search. It took a minute before she began preparing a plate. ‘Well, after today’s Antaam encounter, I’m not sure that was my worst one anymore,’ she continued, a touch of weariness creeping into her tone. It was a quiet admission, though her hands worked efficiently in preparation. It took a moment longer to finish, but she eventually gathered the plate and made her way back to the corner of the room.

‘Sometimes it’s good to put things into perspective,’ Lucanis spoke up, his voice soft but thoughtful as he swirled the cup in his hands, watching the wine spin and settle within. ‘Especially if it’s funny,’ Davrin added with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment. He began shifting things around on the table to make space for Rook’s plate. Rook couldn’t help but humour them, her lips curling into a small smile as she set the plate down in front of them. She chuckled along, though her voice held a playful edge. ‘So. My suffering entertains you. Got it.’ 

‘You joining us, then?’ Davrin’s gaze followed her movement with a sudden interest, his eyes flicking over her as if weighing the possibility. His thumb rested against his lips, caressing it in a barely noticeable way. Rook winked at him teasingly in response. 

‘Fine, I’ll cook something if Rook’s staying,’ Lucanis declared suddenly, getting up with surprising speed. He moved forward, standing face to face with Rook, his eyes widening as she extended a smaller plate towards him. He looked down, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to focus. ‘It’s some cheese and olives. And bread, with olive oil. I heard that’s how you eat it in Treviso,’ she said, her voice quiet and tender. She smiled gently, the warmth in her offer softening further as she added, ‘You mentioned you were hungry.’ 

Lucanis met her eyes, as he reached out to take the plate from her hands. His touch was gentle, and Rook couldn’t help but notice the quiet, polite gratitude in his movements. Her heart began to beat faster. She kept up the eye contact, just to relish the feeling. Maker, he was simply everything.

Lucanis nodded with a whisper, ‘Please, do.’

‘Rook’s story first. Then Lucanis owes me one about this contract on a bronto,’ Davrin said, shifting in his seat, his tone playful, but insistent, drawing their attention back to him once more. Rook raised an eyebrow, and threw him the bottle of wine with a practiced toss. ‘Mierda, that bronto,’ Lucanis muttered as he sat down, dipping a piece of bread into the olive oil with great care. 

The hours passed quickly, as they so often do with drink as company, each sip loosening their tongues and sharpening their tease.The room felt warmer, more comfortable, as the trio moved about, shifting seats and sharing stories. Davrin took a chance to demonstrate the time he had to lift a log by attempting to pick up both Lucanis and Rook at the same time. He breathed out exaggerated grunting noises as he did so, struggling with effort, and the room filled with laughter, carrying their chatter out the window and drawing in curious wisps. When he finally set them back down, the world felt a bit more chaotic, and it was unclear who sat where in the jumble of limbs and shouts. In the end, Rook found herself sharing the two-seater with Lucanis, their proximity natural and expectant, as though they’d fallen into this arrangement a hundred times before.

She could feel Lucanis’ presence closer, the subtle warmth of it pressing against her as she settled into the comfort of the company. The sweetness of the wine clouded her senses, soothing the edges of her fatigue, and she needed it – the reprieve, the breathe it allowed her to take. Somewhere along the line, she’d taken off her covering, unbuckling the straps of her belt and letting the weight of it slide off her shoulders. The casual robes she wore now felt infinitely more comfortable, a sign of surrender to the simple pleasures of the evening. Lucanis observed her in silence, his eyes flickering over the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, as if they were the most intriguing thing in the world. Resting her tired feet up on the table, she let her body sink into the chair, eyes closing for a moment as she sighed deeply, a soft longing for peace washing over her. Without thinking, she shifted slightly, her head finding its place against Lucanis’ shoulder.

Davrin stretched lazily, lifting his legs to rest them on the table as well. He carefully moved Rook’s feet aside, settling them gently on his lap so as not to disturb her. The gesture was effortless, natural, and somehow just another part of the delicate balance of their shared space, like the room itself had drawn them closer into this small, peaceful circle.

Rook’s gaze almost unconsciously traced Davrin’s chest, up to his neck, and finally to his lips. It was a brief moment, but her thoughts didn’t linger there for long. They drifted instead to Lucanis, to the buttons of his vest, the way the fabric sat perfectly tailored against waist, and how the collar teased the line of his neck. And then, perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the effortless charisma that always seemed to radiate from Davrin. Perhaps it was the sensation of Lucanis’ hand resting just a little too close to her own, his fingers brushing against her knuckles softly, as though the touch became an extension of the comfort he offered. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the silence itself – the way it stretched between the three of them for just a moment too long, breaking the shackles of Rook’s heart and loosening her tongue. ‘Davrin, what does flirting mean to you?’ she asked. Lucanis lifted his head suddenly, and Rook could feel his gaze tracing the curve of her features. She pulled a strand of hair from her cheek,  giving herself a moment of focus as she tried to steady her pulse, which was now racing beneath her skin.

‘How come?’ Davrin rested his head against his hand, clearly entertained by the turn in the conversation. Rook smiled, her heart skipping a beat, feeling Lucanis’ hand twitch slightly against her own, as though her words had sparked something in him, too. ‘Well,’ she started, ‘you flirt with me, and others, ceaselessly. And since we’ve had our… talk about where we stand, you’ve got me intrigued.’ The words hung between them, half teasing, half serious, as her gaze met Davrin’s. The Warden chuckled with a low sound. He patted her shin affectionately before leaning forward, his eyes gleaming.

’I suppose there’s an element of fun that comes with it. It eases the tension. It brings people closer, instantly.’ He paused, his voice dropping slightly as if sharing something more intimate. ‘But there’s also a certain amount of freedom to it. No promises are made, and yet it brings a promise of something more, if both parties wish it. A bond is made, even if it’s just through, or for, the thrill of the chase.’

‘Something more…’ Rook repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. She turned the cup in her hand  absentmindedly, before taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the wine trickle through her as she thought about his words. 

Davrin’s eyebrow lifted for a brief moment, his gaze shifting as he observed Rook’s position with a quiet, knowing smile. He took in the loose strands of hair cascading over Lucanis’ shoulder, the way her fingers were subtly tensing under the Crow’s instinctive touch, and the way her head had leaned slightly to the side. The scene was unfolding in a way that was hard to ignore.

With a slight shift, Davrin’s hand fell to Rook’s leg with a quiet slap, the motion deliberate but light, as though making a point. ‘I’m not the only one here with a talent,’ he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes sparkled with a teasing glint. ‘The Crow over there has some interested parties swooning over his tactics.’

Rook corrected herself, sitting up straighter to face Lucanis, who’s eyes widened slightly at the mention. ‘That’s a good way of putting it. Tactics,’ Lucanis said, his voice tinted with hesitation. The Crow let out a short laugh, his hand running up the back of his neck as though trying to smooth over the unease that had settled in.

Rook turned toward him, bending one leg beneath her thigh to face him more directly. There was a small, quiet hesitation before she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, offering him a soft gesture of reassurance. Lucanis closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in her touch, as if savouring the connection. ‘I’m not very… practiced,’ he confessed. ‘All I know about flirting is what the Crows taught me. And perhaps a few serials.’

Rook exchanged quick glances with Davrin, who looked just as intrigued. She leaned in closer, her voice teasing but filled with curiosity as she spoke, ‘Yeah, I’m going to need some details on that.’ The Crow looked up at her, his expression still a bit embarrassed, but also a little resigned to the conversation now.

Davrin took the opportunity to pick up the wine bottle with an exaggerated flourish, and took a few slow sips, his eyes never leaving Lucanis. ‘Flirting is an effective way to gain information. To blend in. To gain someone’s trust. Everything a Crow needs on a job. Naturally, the art of romance is one of the chapters taught to us. I’m no exception.’ Lucanis muttered, drinking from his cup, trying to deflect. Rook shook her head, tilting it in a drunken haze. ‘So it means nothing to you?’

‘I know the talk. I am rather inexperienced in the play itself,’ Lucanis looked at her, as he put his cup down on the table. ‘It’s complicated. There are moments when I catch myself in the act, as if it was an instinct. Years of training will do that to you. My mouth speaks before my mind thinks and I often find myself surprised by my own actions.’

A beat. ‘But the real thing… A real display of one’s affection…’ He held Rook’s gaze. ‘I believe I’m still figuring it out.’

Davrin slapped his thighs, before getting up with vigour,  ‘Right. So the Crow flirts by accident is what I’m hearing.’

Rook blinked, her eyes searching Lucanis’ for a moment. There was a level of peace in his expression, usually overshadowed by the daily struggles they went through. A steady calm in-between the passing storms, unbothered and certain, like never before. Rook could hear Davrin’s footsteps against the stone floor, and a creak of the door. A pretend yawn, before a certain goodnight. She couldn’t be more thankful for his tact in that moment. 

‘Have you done it with me?’ She lowered her tone, as if sharing a secret just between Lucanis and her. The Crow matched the slowly blooming intimacy, his hand running up to his neck again. A chuckle left his throat, echoing against the empty walls of the kitchen. 

‘I think you would know if I had. The Antivan approach can be unmistakably direct,’ he kept up Rook’s gaze like never before. There was nothing except for the two of them anymore. Nothing, but the words shared, no energy wasted.

‘No, I mean the real thing,’ Rook moved closer. She studied Lucanis’ face for any trace of hesitation, anything that could suggest he wished for her to pull back. She was met with a kind smile, as his eyes traced away with his thoughts. 

’Rook… I’m not sure I–‘

‘I wouldn’t mind it.’ His eyes returned to her face, dark and gleaming in the candlelight. Rook could feel herself smirk ever so slightly. ‘In case you’ve ever wondered. Or considered. Me.’ Lucanis’ brow furrowed just a little bit, as he looked down to notice her hand on his own. Rook breathed out, a tinge of nervousness creeping into her mind. How long has she been holding his hand? ‘I care for you, Lucanis. I thought you might… want to know. Forgive me,’ she added, letting go. But then, she froze for just a moment. Her breath caught, and hesitation washed over her, as if the moment had suddenly grown too large to hold. She reached up, her fingers touching Lucanis' chest. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, each thump clear and reassuring. She observed how the material of his vest bent subtly under her touch, as though it, too, was yielding to her presence, allowing her to close the distance between them.

Lucanis took a slow breath, then another, his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her. Rook smiled widely at the simple, intimate sensation. She felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach but before she could let the silence settle too deeply, she felt his hand rise, gentle and certain.

His fingers cupped her palm, holding it lightly just above his heart. Lucanis’ lips parted, as if he was on the verge of saying something. Yet, Rook wasn't certain she could bear the weight of whatever words he was about to offer – perhaps it was too soon, or perhaps it was too much to be said aloud.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she closed her eyes, taking a breath to steady herself, and slowly, she let go of his grasp. She rose to her feet, but to her surprise, his hand followed her, his fingers wrapping around her knuckles with his usual tenderness. As he stood up with her, there was no rush, no urgency. ‘I care for you, Rook,’ he said softly. ’Thank you for… this.’ 

She chuckled quietly, squeezing his hand once more before letting go.

‘My pleasure,’ she whispered back, her voice soft and carrying a quiet weight. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, but it shifted, pulled toward the door. With careful steps, she made her way toward the exit, her footsteps muted on the floor, as if the world around her had momentarily paused. As she reached the threshold, she stopped, her fingers brushing against the doorframe, and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes finding Lucanis once again.

He was smiling.

And that was always more than enough.

[fairestwriting]

Hello, if you don't mind, I want to request a sceanrio or headcanons (which one you more prefer is fine by me) with Jade insist to take care of his crush after a long day of dishwashing duty in Monstro Lounge despite his crush doubt that he might wanted to get them in his debt and does not realize that he did that because he has a crush on them? Feel free to skip this req if it's makes you uncomfortable though <3 Thank you!

oldie but one that i thought of a bit even when i was on hiatus... scenario format because maybe i want jade to take care of mw after a long workday too. What the hell

word count: 1345

pairing: jade x gn!reader

content warnings: wish fulfillment none:)

You exhale heavily, your shoulders slumping even without you willing them to, as the very last plate is cleaned to perfection, setting it down with all the others...

It's not that you expected a night of dishwashing to be the easiest thing in the world — but luck really wasn't on your side that day, and it turned out it was the third years' last day of exam week.

Which meant, the Lounge would be crowded. Which meant, you'd have a lot of dishes to wash. Which meant, as you just now discovered, your upper back, forearms, and feet would start to actively try to kill you.

At least it's all just over, you think. You pull off your apron and the rubber gloves that did nothing to keep your hands from going wrinkly from exaggerated humidity, then you turn around, ready to report to Azul that your shift was over—

Then, in your tired haze, you bump into something, someone, and it doesn't even register who it is until a firm grip on your upper arm keeps you from embarrassingly stumbling for a good moment.

"J...Jade? What are you doing here?"

He looks at you. His hand is still gripping your arm, though... it's done really softly, especially for an attempt at keeping someone from tripping.

And he smiles softly, politely at you. Like he always does.

"I could perhaps ask you the same question." He says, a lilt to his voice, releasing your arm as you step back into a balanced stance. "It's rather late, you know? Azul was even looking for you."

"Oh, was he?" You cringe at the way it comes out a little more bitter than you'd intended, but... you're tired, and Jade was... strange, but definitely not a tyrant. "Well, I was about to go look for him and say I'm done with the dishes. There was just..." You glance behind yourself, seeing the piles of plates and glasses, the dish soap bubbles that got everywhere. "There was a lot."

Jade's gaze follow yours, and his smile softens, even more when he looks back at you.

"In that case, why don't you let me inform him instead, and I could... get you something to eat in the meantime? You must be hungry."

Alarm bells ring inside your head. The offer is tempting, of course it's tempting, but this is still Octavinelle, and Jade is still Azul's... henchman, or something. You grimace while you try to get your tired brain to think of a response.

"Um... no, thanks, I'd rather not be indebted to—"

"Ah. You're worried about that?" He asks, and the look on his face, while hardly different from his usual poised smile, has a hint of... something different that you couldn't quite place. "In that case, we could arrange a way for you to... give me something in return?"

"Uh..." Again, the alarm bells continue. If they weren't mental, the noise would probably be intense enough to give you a headache— "I don't... think I have anything you'd..."

"Your company, in exchange for any menu item free of charge. How does that sound?"

What.

You blink, genuinely dumbfounded. Jade still smiles. Always does. You're not sure if it's a joke, a part of you says it's a bad idea, but...

"You want my company in return for the favor." You echo to him, and he nods.

"Yes. I'll tell Azul you're done with your work, and fetch you whatever you wish. Then we can get a sit while you eat. Does that work for you?"

"That..." You really wish you could protest, but at the worst moment possible, your own hunger makes itself known. "...okay."

"Lovely. You can wait at the Lounge. What would you like to have?"

You mumble out your usual order, still a bit confused, and he gives you a nod as you part ways. Out of the kitchen, you don't waste too much time in taking one of the seats with cushy chairs, sighing in relief when you feel your body sinking into them just slightly, supporting those overworked limbs.

The Lounge really was empty. You have a few minutes to stare at it, all by yourself — it really must be late — and even dare to bask in the comfy, yet classy lighting of the environment.

It felt so much different like this. No music, no people to serve. It was... relaxing, surprisingly. Even though it was your workplace, and the source of quite a lot of stress in your life...

"The boss is notified. Here's your food." Jade chimes in with a playful tone after what feels like way too little time, setting a plate of your very favorite Mostro Lounge special in front of you. You can't help the way your eyes widen at it a bit, still not fully grasping the situation.

"And Azul is okay with this?" You grab the fork, but look up at Jade first, watching as he takes a seat in front of you.

"Of course. I wouldn't do that otherwise."

He chuckles, and despite your cautiousness, you can't resist the urge to dig into your food. It tastes even better after all that work.

And for some reason, it makes Jade's smile just a touch brighter when he watches you eat.

"It's important to eat well, you know. I hope you've been getting enough meals lately. Exam weeks are never kind."

"Yeah, I... I mean, I'm doing fine. If I want to keep up with all the work, I have to eat."

You take a larger bite, and he continues to watch you. With one more sprinkle of energy in your system, you start to try to understand what got to him all of a sudden. You look through his features, usually so unreadable and static, and you search for... something. Anything.

A sign this was a strange prank, maybe.

"That's good to hear. In any case, though, I'll discuss with Azul to have better planning for evenings like these... Friday nights and such. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again."

You stop chewing for a split second when you catch on to his wording. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again. Maybe you're just too tired, and making this all up, but...

What's different in Jade's face now is that there's a hint of sincere softness. One that doesn't even look all that unfamiliar— that you swear had been there when you had brief chats during work hours, even.

Your face flushes. Is he...?

You lift your gaze away from the food, and meet Jade's eyes. He's still smiling, hands folded politely on the table, though it's small enough that when you set your fork down, you swear you feel your hand brush against his glove.

"Thank you... for this, Jade." You mumble out, unsure of what to say. He gives you a smile like he always does, but in this empty, silent Lounge where you're not even sure if you're seeing things right, it makes your heart flutter.

"Thank you for the company. It really was a busy night." He gets up, taking your plate. Only now, you notice you're done eating. "I'll take care of these, don't worry. Just head back to your dorm and rest up. Unless..."

You blink at him again, now unsure of how your brain could even withstand so much confusion. "U...Unless...?"

"...Unless you'd like me to escort you?" He says, and his eyes narrow slyly, glinting— now, wait a minute...

Floyd and Azul were still supposed to be there, weren't they? They always were during closing time. Which meant...

Of course. Of course Jade would only go about something like this as deliberately as possible.

He chuckles. Your face is hot all over and his smile is wide. Skillfully, he carries the plate in one hand as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Just wait for me if you do. We can make another deal if you want."

And then, he's out of signt, and you're left with a dizzying feeling.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[wordstome]

Last night I did what I always do when I can’t fall asleep: think about fictional men. Here’s a list of wonderful stories written by incredibly talented people who have helped me think about fictional men by providing the most delicious playgrounds.

In the interest of keeping my recommendations brief, I'm going to talk about what I liked about the fic instead of summarizing what it's about. To know what it's actually about you're just gonna have to click through and read the fic <3

(and just in case anybody's gotten lost, this is all COD, mostly modern MW)

✦ complete ║ ➠ ongoing

König

✦Just Friends by @kneelingshadowsalome Salome is so good at capturing a very unique interplay between König’s social awkwardness and his deep, dark, nasty inclinations. He’s so feral and enjoyable to read, and the sheer force of his desire for Engel is downright intoxicating. I find it difficult to describe how much of an impact Just Friends has had on me and my portrayal of König, to be honest. There's a reason why three of Salome's fics are on this rec list.

✦Fatum Nos Iungebit by kneelingshadowsalome Five words. König with his cock out. That's it. Okay, but in all seriousness, I love his character applied to this setting. All the raw visceral violence a König could ever want, a pretty little lady in his bed—he's so boyish and happy in this au it brings me such joy. The way their relationship between him and Fee develops is so natural and so sweet. Please for the love of God read this.

➠Cat/Mouse/Den by @papaver-decervicatus The chase. The pursuit. The adrenaline when Mouse dances out of König's reach once more. I'm a little biased because I adore Julius and Jenny (I could call her Lucretia but the double J names make me giggle) as ocs already, but CMD is so, so well written. The tension, the flirting, the scene where he catches her falling out of the tree?! As I said in a reblog, I shrieked. You know when you're reading something that's so good you want to bite down on it and shake like a dog with a toy? (No? Just me?) That's how I feel about CMD.

➠Anything by @darklordofthesimp Anything, in only 7 chapters (they are hefty, don’t get me wrong), has turned König and Birdy’s dynamic from “THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IRREVERSIBLY SCARRED MY BODY AND MY BRAIN, AND I CANNOT TRUST HIM” to “these two are going to get married someday”. (author if you’re reading this, I say that not as an expectation or prediction, but as a vibe reading.) This one is for the hurt/comfort girlies. Also, shoutout to all the other stories set in the Anything-verse. Sunshine and Ghost are just soooo *grips my hand in a fist so hard it shakes*

➠If you need to be mean by @gremlingottoosilly This mostly serves as a blanket recommendation for all of Gremlin’s fics. I found If you need to be mean, and then visiting Gremlin’s author page was like opening a treasure chest. Want to be König’s pampered, (unwilling) little housewife? That’s If you need to be mean. Want a harem fic with almost all of the COD MW men? Gremlin has two, both with their own little spin to keep it fun. Do you want König to keep you in his basement or hunt you down as a serial killer? Gremlin's got it. Monsterfucker? Gremlin has that too. Special shoutout goes to 1295 kilometers. I think about fucking König on a train a lot now.

➠Break my mind by @kaiasdevotion (kaiasown on ao3) There’s no way around this. This fic has the most unhinged, kinky, downright dangerous smut I’ve read in the cod fandom so far (positive). Just Friends König is the metric by which I judge all other Königs’ nastiness, and Break my mind König is tipping so hard on the “unhinged horny violent freak (affectionate)” end of the scale he’s about to fall off. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I've developed a taste for writing/reading from König's perspective, and he's so chillingly deranged in the most controlled way possible during the chapters from his pov. Incredible writing. Chefs kiss.

✦Experimental by @uhohdad (surgeoninspace on ao3) Alright, enough of just König being nasty. He is still nasty in this one, but he’s not the only one who gets to have a little fun and be a total creep. Our little scientist here is a grade A pervert, and I was delighted the whole way through. The most important thing I need in a fic is suspension of disbelief, and Experimental takes an unrealistic, maybe a little bit silly situation and makes it so believable. Everybody reacts the way you would expect them to, even if the scenario they're in is A Lot.

➠Little Mouse and Rotes Madchen by @sprout-fics I'm combining the recommendation for these two because while they are both very much distinct, unique fics, I love them the same way. Sprout is such an engaging writer, and the internal dialogue of her characters is so well done. It reveals their personality, motivations, and internal conflicts without being overly expository. Do you guys remember that post I put on the König bible about instant obsession? It's this inexorable attraction borne from obsession that sticks me to Little Mouse like a glue trap. (Is that too morbid?)

✦Hot in Sarajevo by @50cal-fullauto Rags' König characterization post is on my Königcore bible, for very good reason. They get it. König is a feral dog forced to live as a man and loves like a total maniac, emotionally and sexually. I marked Hot in Sarajevo as complete but I don't know how many parts there are going to be, and frankly, I do want more. However, if you're going to only read one part (which. why would you do that??? read both.) I recommend the second part. I want to write love like that. Goddamn.

Ghost

Yeah, this list is a little bare bones right now. I'm gonna get back to it, I promise.

✦Anhedonia by kneelingshadowsalome The way. Salome takes the "I would take a bullet for him but he's so cold to me" premise and then flips it entirely on its head for the second part is so important to me. The way Simon craves the reader is like human catnip. I reread this fic all the time.

Keegan

✦For the Weak and Weary by @halcyone-of-the-sea Read this if you want to believe in true love. That's all. Go on now.

Multiple

✦Easy by @danibee33 When people say "I wish this were a book!" about fanfiction, they usually mean it in a "this is good enough to be published by the traditional publishing industry" way. When I say I want Easy (and Diablesa) to be a book, I mean it in a "I want to get this story bound in a beautiful ass cover and keep it on a shelf so I can take it down and reread it whenever I want" way. I don't want the traditional publishing industry to get their claws in this, because it's perfect as it is. This fic is so wild and fun, and the character moments are so special and well done. Do yourself a favor and savor this one.

➠@ghouljams's entire blog [masterlist] "What do you mean someone's entire blog" YOU HEARD ME. Those aus are some good shit. Good characterization, delicious premises, love the group effort of it all. To absolutely nobody's surprise, my favorite couple is König and Bee from the cowboy au (ditzy but well-meaning and competent in her own way woman x big strong man who is obsessed with her and maybe also creeping on her, my beloved), but I also have a fondness for Ghost and Die from demon darlings au. Trust me on this one. Dig into those masterlists babey.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hello, have you also been struck with an inane desire to kiss the CoD boys? Did the brainrot demon whisper in your ear “go fuck the masked man, the mustache man, and the Scottish man?” Well you’re in luck. My sleep deprivation vomited this out last night, I did not check for errors and I have NOT played MW. Sorry to all the Gaz fans out there, I genuinely forgot to include him. Sometimes you just gotta purge the fic poltergeists in your brain. I’m sorry. John up next when the demon returns.

All for One, One for All

Part 2 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

Down time with the 141 was always a grab bag. If a mission went well it was celebratory, others were solemn. Either way, the group was comfortable enough to have a … physical connection with each other. Hugs and words of comfort common after missions. Hands through hair as you all shared stresses together. But while everyone had a baseline comfortability, as the newbie, you lost out on some of the camaraderie, some of the closeness. It drove you fucking insane.

That’s why you were barely holding it together as Soap and you were close on the couch in the break room, legs tangled as you talked about everything and nothing. The recent mission, what they were doing on leave, cute new recruits. He was always the easiest to talk to, decompress with. Quick to anxieties with, as well as who you both had … predilections to. A master of weaseling his way into talking about your respective secret desires. Like how he had been spending spare time with Ghost on off days. How you couldn’t keep eye contact with your Captain.

Missions were different, there were tasks at hand and jobs to do. But with Price, his hands comforting, ready to protect seemed to linger between you and him, longer than others. Yet you couldn’t keep conversations longer than a few minutes when you debriefed in meetings. Too much perception, you felt like dissolving when his attention was on you too long. You kept the intensity of how much you wanted your Captain to yourself though. You wonder how Soap did it with your Lieutenant. You picked at your hangnails, seemed like you could even smell them nearby, cigarette and cigar smoke lingering in your olfactory memory.

A longing, you told Soap, with your head in your hands, avoiding the embarrassment of eye contact. Stuttering through it, you described the longing, the need for belonging. “You all made it look so easy, it WAS so easy,” You lament. You got here too late, missed the boat on inclusion in the 141. No more room at the inn. They meant everything to you, they were your whole world. And the sneaking ache that you could die tomorrow and they’d move on clawed at your ribcage endlessly. You just… wanted to feel like you meant something to to them, to someone. Wanted someone to steal all the silence in your mind and fill it with warmth. With touch. With lov—

“To someone? Or to him?” You heard, through the static in your ears. The tears you’ve been fighting finally make an appearance.

“Bonnie, hey, darl’,” Soap whispered to you, bringing his lips to your forehead, fingers through your temples. Shh, shh, shh, everything was okay and that the team was here for you. He was here for you. Quieting your mind, his hands ran through your hair and lingered to your neck. You closed your eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I should have kept my mouth shut you don’t have to pity me.” You said, gently trying to push Soap back.

“Who the fuck said anything about pity.” A different, deeper voice in your ear this time. Panic floods your body as you feel a second pair of hands slide around your shoulders. “No, no, no Ghost, please don’t I’m sorry I shouldn’t—,” you stammer out, fight and flight winning simultaneously as you push immovable bodies and try to pull yourself away. Why you thought that was possible with these two men was beyond you.

Vice grips pull you back down, holding you close to both men’s chests. “Breathe, sergeant.” Delivered as a command. That part of your brain still seemed to function as you took deep breaths, not noticing how Ghost positioned himself on the couch. Leaning back at an angle, he pulled you in his lap, back against his chest and arms around your waist. Feeling his breath against the nape of your neck, steadying, matching his breathing. The smell of cigarettes, pine and sweat fill your senses. Soap slotted himself between both of your legs, into your lap, eyes keeping your focus. Knowing looking at Ghost would throw you completely askew. Ever the team, those two, you thought briefly.

Minutes went by in silence as your breathing slowed, heartbeat returned to normal. Ghost gave you one of his hands to fuss with as you calmed, testing the waters, getting used to him. His other hand carded through Soaps hair, lying in your lap. His nose nuzzled your neck as he broke the silence. “I’m, we’re, sorry for making you feel like the odd man out, sweetheart. Should have done a better job as your lieutenant to make you feel a part of the team.” He took the hand lying in yours and brought it to your stomach, bringing you closer into his chest, rubbing lazy circles. “This is… a lot to some. Who we are as a team. As much as we wanted to bring you in, we didn’t want to scare you away neither.”

“But for what it’s worth, ever since you got here,” Ghost growls, pinky grabbing the edge of your shirt, pulling upwards. “You’ve been ours.”

Everything seemed to move at once. Ghosts hands now on your body properly, exploring your curves and pulling you into him deeper. Soap chuckled lightly, his hands now caressing your hips and breathing into your waistline, peering up at you with big beautiful eyes. “Ours in the royal sense, LT. She’s been called f—“ his words cut off as a rough hand at the back of his head pressed him into your pussy. “Hmm, he’s a lot cuter when he’s down there, huh?” Ghost chuckles into your shoulder. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, your hands come up and try to meet his, unsure of if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His arms come around and lock yours in place as Soap is released and fingers start to play with the button on your pants. “Let us make up for some lost time, sweetheart,” he growls into your shoulder.

Sheer panic, or disassociation, you’re not sure what gets you through the next moment. But either way it feels like an eternity, watching Soap pull down your pants and panties, feeling Ghost caress the valley between your tits, ambiently trying to steady your heart. Mumbling both to you and himself, he repositions you ever so slightly in his lap, bringing your ass tighter into his hips and spreading your thighs across his, giving Soap better access. “Have no fucking idea how bad we’ve needed you, bird. Been dreaming about your fucking body, how you smell, what you taste like.” You feel his hardness start, pushing up against your ass. Your deep breaths start turning into soft moans, and both men groan into you. Soap kisses you gently on your thighs, leading a trail to your core, nipping you along the way. You feel like glass, any sudden movement and you’ll shatter into Ghosts arms, heart too raw, wants too real. Ghost feels your tension and wraps one arm around your waist as the other brings your shirt above your tits, exposing them to the cold room. His free hand teasing a nipple as he whispered “Stay with me, baby.”

A strangled sound left your throat as you felt Soap’s tongue separate your lips and meet your clit. “Johnny, please, oh God.” Feeling his tongue work you open, you can only focus on your breathing so you don’t float away. Ghost adjusts something behind you as you feel two fingers slide in gently. Broken moans and pleas leave your mouth as you feel lips against your neck, kissing, biting. “Tell me how he feels bird.” Ghost murmurs. Fingers moving faster, faster as Soap attacks your clit. You chance a look down as you meet his eyes, his mouth breaking out into the biggest smile as he lifts his face briefly. A man this pretty should be illegal, you think. “Tell me, bonnie. Tell me what you want.” A sound you’d be downright ashamed of leaves your mouth, clenching around his fingers. “Fuck Soap, I want you, I want—“ His fingers start working your g-spot faster as he teases, “Use your words, bon. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I wanna, I wanna cum Johnny, please” you say in barely a whisper as he coaxes it out of you. All you feel is the cord in your stomach break as every muscle in your body tenses. Soap laughing into your clit, Ghost licking and moaning in your ear, that you belong to us, all of us. A distant part of you wonders why things sound so wet as you look down to Soaps eyes, crinkled as he makes you watch yourself squirt into his mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as Soap sucks your clit, bringing you down. Everything feels wet, you can feel it at your knees. This couch is gonna have to be burned. Soap gives one last suck to your clit, coming off with a pop. Ghosts breath comes out in short bursts as you feel him grind hard into your ass, grunting in your ear. Soap comes up and grabs you tenderly by your face, kissing you gently, deeply, making you taste. Bringing his forehead to yours, he looks at you, so tender it makes your heart stop. “Told ya we’re here. Cannae do it without ya, sweet.”

Hands gently lay you down on the couch as you remember what your limbs are supposed to feel like. A kiss from each on your forehead as Ghost says “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of our boy here, you stay put, yeah?” Your breathing starts to return to normal, letting feelings flood back slowly. “Oh, okay.” You whisper out, taking a deep breath and sitting up slightly. The big feelings start to creep back in, but a little less heavy. Tears start to flow, not from sadness but something else. You sniff away some of the emotions. “Are we, are we okay, is, oh my god what is Price, what—“ Soap is quick to take a knee next to you, kissing your tears away and cooing shhhh’s in your ear. You’ve been so distracted by this attention that you finally notice the smell in the room, stronger than earlier. Cloves, a sweetness, cigar smoke.

Your head snaps back to the chair across from you all, and your breath dies in your throat. Blue eyes locked into yours, like he’s never looked at anything else. He crushes the last of his cigar into the ashtray beside him and leans forward, hands gripping his knees tightly. “You broken, sweetheart?”

[obsessed-with-book-boyfriends]

Please have this humble offering of rookanis dancing (arguing) at a crow gathering.

A Dance With Crows

Female MW!Rook x Lucanis

“You don’t understand. Or is it that you won’t?” They spun around the room, silks fluttering as they danced. “They’ll kill you, just for being with me.”

Her eyes narrowed behind her mask, and once more he could see why she was chosen to lead the fight against the false gods. The unnatural calm that exuded from her completely at odds with the protective note in her voice as if she dared the universe to oppose her in this. “They can try to pry me away from you. Gods couldn’t manage it, they won’t either.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, their masks clinking as they met. The worry in his eyes made her heart swell with love as it broke for him. For all he had been through, and for how far he was willing to go for her. To keep her safe.

He hadn’t wanted her to come tonight. Even told her to stay away, that she would be in danger no matter how many crows she had as allies. There would always be someone hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike at the person he held closest to his heart. She understood that. However, she was as secure in her abilities as she was in her glove for him. In her opinion, it was best to meet it face to face. Let them try to tear them apart, try to tear the Dellamorte house to shreds. She’d happily show them how many bodies she could reanimate at once.

She is, after all, a Dreamer, raised in the Mourn Watch since infancy. And if by chance they ever succeed, they’ll find out exactly what Vorgoth is, once the spirits spread word of her death to the Necropolis.

Tonight, she intended to dance with him as much as he’d allow. A smile lit her face as she made eye contact with Teia across the dance floor. She had Viago in a death grip, keeping him twirling with her for the entirety of the dance he had promised her. No doubt, the two talons made a deadly pair. Teia was just as protective of Viago as Rook was of Lucanis and Spite, and everyone knew it.

She gasped softly, caught off guard as Lucanis dipped her low, his lips brushing hers. “Do not tempt fate, not for me. Please.”

“I’m not going to leave you, Lucanis.” They slowed to a stop in the middle of the floor as he tried to protest. She pulled away from him, reaching down to the thigh high slit on the right side of her dress. She pulled out a small dagger from the sheath hidden there and held it out to him. “If you really want me to go, then take this back.”

“What—“

“Take it back.” She knew they were being gawked at now, a few other couples having slowed down to watch the exchange. “Take your dagger, and tell me you don’t love me anymore. I’ll walk out of her immediately and never come back to Antiva.”

“But,” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stepped closer, nose brushing his, knowing in her heart he won’t take it. “If you don’t, don’t ever ask me to leave you again. No threat in the world will ever be enough to separate my heart from yours.”

“Rook—“

“You told me your heart beats for me, did you not realize mine beats for you as well? I love you, every part of you. If that comes with other people trying to kill us, well, when hasn’t it? I will love you forever, even after my body is interred at the Necropolis and all that is left of me is bone. Shrouds Kiss will cover my tomb, and one day someone may reanimate my bones and ask about my life and I will tell them all about the Antivan Crow and his Spirit of Determination that stole this necromancer’s heart.”

A sharp sigh left him, his mouth pulled into a small smile. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“No, I rather think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.” She pulled him into a slow kiss, dagger now returned to its sheath. His hands held her close, wings wrapping around them, heedless of the audience they had.

Across the room, Caterina smiled softly to herself, and if anyone saw, who was going to believe them?

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 5. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I agree, the Necropolis IS gorgeous, I was blessed with wonderful level artists, lighting artists, and a fantastic LD who poured their hearts into making it it." [source]

Sylvia: ""But what does Manfred think about Spite?" Good question. Manfred is curious, as always, and can probably sense Spite's on his own plane of existence (in other words, another spirit.) But Manfred also doesn't have a greatly evolved sense of danger, he might not understand Spite's "moodier" moments. I also think Manfred isn't as sophisticated a spirit as Spite at the start of the game. (Though don't let Emmrich catch you saying that!)" [source, two]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "He was a team effort, and I have to especially thank the writers and editors for their early feedback that helped shape him. Emmrich wouldn't have worked as well otherwise." [source]

Sylvia: "it's a huge honour to work on a character who's someone's favorite anything, let alone romance. (Huge props to Allegra, her actor, who just got Josie right away.)" [source]

Sylvia: ""With Cassandra being our only POV into Nevarra" Poor Cassandra. (Emmrich has such respect for her uncle's books!) "There's a lot of deep respect and empathy for all the ways people relate with death and I appreciate it"" Thanks, that was something I'd so hoped would come through." [source]

Sylvia: "It really was a team that brought Emmrich, the Necropolis, and the rest of its guardians to life, I know everyone would be thrilled to know you enjoyed it so much." [source]

User: "Emmrich's fear of mortality really hit hard. Some of those lines are etched into my heart now. Thanks to everyone who helped put that deeply relatable and human experience into the game" // Sylvia: "It was kind of the core of Emmrich, writing the part where he opens up about his fears, so thank you for sharing that, it means a lot." [source]

Sylvia: "I loved writing the MW branches and letting people be a nerdier flavour of Rook with Emmrich." [source]

User: "Nevarra, Mourn Watch and in particular Emmrich's personal missions were amazing! The whimsical and the grotesque in perfect balance. When I replay next year I'll be looking forward to those missions the most!" // Sylvia: "Especial praise goes to the level designers for tackling a bunch of complex stuff in those missions as we planned them out." [source]

Sylvia: "I think we can all agree Emmrich might be a touch eccentric, but I really wanted his interests and compassionate outlook to be heartfelt, so this is lovely to hear." [source]

User: "I was so nervous about the whole Necropolis gang as I have PTSD and a major fear of death. So when Emmrich confided in Rook about his own fear, I was struck with such an unexpected comfort. I've never heard someone describe my own fears and how they make me feel so perfectly." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Bibi. It's a very familiar fear for me as well, and I find sometimes talking about it can ease things. So I'm very glad to hear Emmrich's thoughts on it were helpful for you." [source]

Sylvia: "I like a good sinister necromancer, but really wanted to try something different with the Mourn Watch, something more akin to a sacred duty." [source]

Sylvia on the Necropolis: "The concept, lighting, and level artists, and the level designer, did so much cool stuff there IMO. Seeing it with the final art and lighting in for the first time was a thrill for me too." [source]

User: "special thanks for the Terry Pratchett references in the form and speech of Vorgoth. I don't know exactly whose idea it was, but it was great!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you so much! Re: Terry Pratchett: oh man, I read nearly every Discworld book multiple times, absolute favorites growing up." [source]

User: "I kinda of assumed that Emmrich just calculates age in academia terms, so no matter how many physical years old your Rook is, you're just a tiny baby who hasn't completed a necromancy phd. "When I was your age" = "When I was a TA."" // Sylvia: "Yes, yes that math checks out." [source]

User on Emmrich: "how refreshing it was to have an argument with a LI that’s specific to their relationship. It gives the characters such texture and dimension!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! I liked the tone range we ended up having between everyone, it was more rewarding to do." [source]

User: "Would you guys ever expand more on Nevarra and its culture? I loved seeing the Necropolis, and hope we revisit it. But I'll be honest when I say it made me curious what life in Nevarra is like, and how infused Nevarra's Mortalitasi are with average Nevarran life." // Sylvia: "Since I've left the company, that's not really in my hands, so there's not much I can say. But I get what you mean, because the Mourn Watch are a subbranch of the Mortalitasi with a very special field of study and service. We don't really get much about everyday Nevarra. So whoever tackles that in the future, if they ever do: I think that could be neat. Lots of room to explore different dynamics and customs!" [source, two]

User: "I adore Emmrich, he's so sweet & so thoughtful! I especially adore his love for flowers, and I personally interpreted that as a hint from the writers (you!) that choosing to embrace his fleeting mortality, like the fleeting beauty of flowers, was his "good" path - is that correct? What's your take?" // Sylvia: "I tried really hard to make either choice feel like it could be the right one for him, because I wanted it to be more about a player's own interpretation-and their relationship with him-than author fiat hinting at which one is correct. Also thank you for the kind words! I really liked writing Emmrich enthusing about flowers." [source, two] // User: "He's such a charming character, the vibes of him and Josephine are among some of my favorites in the series, thank you for helping to shape them and for being kind enough to answer my question! Do you, personally, have a preference for which choice Emmrich makes? It's a tough call to make in game!" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, like a coward, I've not stated a preference because I don't want to accidentally influence people into thinking one was right or not. I'm also in a weird place where as the person writing him, my thoughts are far less subjective in weird recursive ways. If that makes sense." [source]

User: "do you have a favorite flower? It was such a lovely detail in Emmrich's character and it warms my heart to know writing that was enjoyable for you" // Sylvia: "It kind of changes depending on what's growing during the season, but while it's very common, you can't beat the scent of a rose. (Fond of lilacs too)" [source]

User: "Did you have any role in Manfred's wisp being lilac when/if you bring him back? That detail made me bawl 😭 Manfred was so shaped by "living" with Emmrich that his essence became Em's favorite color?! The only wisp we see to do so?" // Sylvia: "I wish! I actually don't know who did that. I'd assume that colour was chosen by one of our animators, or maybe the LD, so perhaps they added in that detail, which is adorable. (Carly, Derek Wilks, was this either of you?)" [source] // Derek Wilks: "I think that was someone in VFX actually!" [source]

Sylvia: "Glad you enjoyed the graveyard date, our animators and music director did wonders there." [source]

User: "Can you give us any hints on when Dorian spent some time at the necropolis? I need to know their circumstances for science (how old was Dorian back then? I could imagine he had a crush on the professor lol)" // Sylvia: "I'm going to chicken out and not pin that down (sorry.) Since I've left BW, my answer would be even more non-canonical than usual, because that would've been something I'd have wanted to talk over with the other writers. But by that same token, nothing I've said invalidates what you want to imagine." [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "I am flattered to hear he has become a favorite romance, the team went all out on him." [source] // Sylvia: "So many people worked on those scenes: animation, art, audio, the editors, and huge kudos to his actor Nick Borraine." [source]

Sylvia: "I THINK Emmrich is 6'2 or 6'3, but you'd need a character artist to confirm." [source]

User: "Do the necromancers of the Grand Necropolis have their own sort of culture? Like perhaps their own rituals for marriage, courting, etc.?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. Good question. I'm sure they have some individual quirks and traditions, like any long-running institution. But they probably don't deviate unrecognizably from the mortalitasi norm." [source]

Sylvia: ""i also played a trans rook, and some of emmrich's content for a romanced trans rook made for probably some of the best romance content of all time for me." That's so nice to hear, and I must give credit to some trans people who kindly took the time to give me feedback that made those lines better." [source]

User: "1) are Tevinter exchange students like Dorian common? 2) what are some of the other fraternities of the Mortalitasi? 3) do members of the Mourn Watch often attend social events with the Nevarran elite like other Mortalitasi?" // Sylvia: "1) Yeah, I think they're not uncommon. I took my inspiration from The Grand Tour, and thought it would make sense if Tevinter sent out some of the wealthier scions to see the world a little, pick up a few new spells. [link] 2) I'm afraid I've deliberately left this one blank, for future people to fill in if/when the need arises. Emmrich complains about the palace necromancers, so we do know there's a special cadre of mortalitasi running the show over there. 3. Absolutely. The MW are pretty prestigious in Nevarra with their running the Grand Necropolis. Much as Emmrich dislikes politics himself, there's probably a lot going on at the top." [source, two, three]

User: "Do you think Lich Emmrich would eventually be told by the Lich Lords to sever his mortal ties and return with them to the depths of the Necropolis? It seems like he’s willing to break all their rules to keep Rook with him" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid defining Emmrich's duties/responsibilities/required conduct as a lich would very much be something I'd leave up to the future (even if I were still at BW.) Kind of too big a topic for me to want to speculate here." [source]

User: "did you have a hand in designing how emmrich looks?" // Sylvia: "Yep, I gave feedback as his design progressed. Our concept artists really got him very early on, though, so it was smaller stuff." [source] // User: "was he at all inspired by Peter Cushing & his hammer film characters? He really gives off van Helsing vibes to me" // Sylvia: "Time permitting I want to do a post on influences, but you got it in one exactly. It was specifically the Hammer films I was thinking about!" [source] // User: "would Rudolph van Richten from Curse of Strahd be on his list of influences?" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, to my shame, I never read much of the core Ravenloft books, so that one's a no." [source]

User: "I needed you to know that Emmerich's conversation in the Memorial Gardens about his thanaphobia really got me. I could never put the words together of what thanaphobia feels like, and his description is perfect." // Sylvia: "It's a familiar feeling to me as well, and I'm glad it rang true." [source]

User: "I've got a really severe death phobia that's been flaring recently, and emmrich's conversation about it captured the feeling perfectly and helped lessen the weight for me" // Sylvia: "I find at least discussing it can ease it, sometimes, so I'm very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich helped in that way." [source]

Sylvia: "Hezenkoss was a blast to write so I'm glad she clicked for you. "preposterous is what you wore to a bog, Orlesian" Oh wow, Skywatcher! It's been an age, so glad that line stuck with you. That takes me back!" [source]

Sylvia: ""And yet I ask the question - what attracts Emmerich to the Hand? Yes, the answer is “perseverance”, but I think this is not fully explored." Do you mean the Hand of Glory specifically? He's intrigued and disturbed by the magic around it, which is why he hones on it, even before he knows its origin" [source]

Sylvia: ""I was wondering if you could tell us about his & Manfred's first meeting or notable moments in their friendship?" This feels like something I'd probably want to leave more to the imagination. And because I'm not a BW anymore, answers would be even more non-canonical than normal. All that said, for some reason, I always pictured Emmrich being alone in the Necropolis the first time Manfred's wisp floated up to him to peer at what he was doing. It just seems a little more poignant that way." [source, two]

Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made [Emmrich] so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

User: "me + a handful of people were wondering about non-mage mourn watchers! id love to hear your notes/thoughts about them! b/c i didnt remember hearing how they become MW or if reaper uses death magic!" // Sylvia: "Sure! Not much to say, though, I think the MW is likely a mage majority fraternity that accepts a few non-mages who have exceptional skills and temperaments sympathetic to the Necropolis. A warrior of great renown, a rogue of exceptional stealth and quiet, a baby found down there in a grave, and so forth. They'd certainly undergo the same kind of oaths and bindings every Watcher goes through. I always pictured them being provided with the best enchanted gear the MW has to offer too." [source, two]

User: "Hi! About Emmerich being a professor—does he teach at a Circle, or is he specifically a professor to other MWers and Mortalitasi? It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all?" // Sylvia: ""It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all? " Sure, but I think you have it, the MW seems to want to raise well-rounded students with a classical education on top of magecraft. In my mind, it was because they saw every MW as representing the Grand Necropolis, so of course they wanted its members to have training in etiquette and history and generally be able to move in polite society." [source, two]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: ""would it be possible for a (romanced) MW Rook join Emmrich in linchdom, eventually?" Yes: Rook can try, bc it's not forbidden to seek the knowledge out. (Emmrich makes it clear Hezenkoss pieced some of it together herself, so we've also seen another mage get it almost-right) It is very hard and probably takes decades to accomplish (and of course, there's no guarantee Rook would survive.) But everything written in game points to there being a chance." [source, two]

User: "I’ve been thinking a little about it and I know it’s mentioned in the game he would be interested in visiting - but how would Emmrich feel about visiting the Avvar in the south? They are one of the few groups that show respect for spirits in a similar way and I imagine he’d have a lot of questions." // Sylvia: "He'd probably love it. He'd be fascinated by their relationship with spirits, in the ways it mirrors and deviates from the Mourn Watchers' own practices. (I imagine there is also like a 15% chance he gets into a heated argument with one of them over a fine point of how spirits work exactly.)" [source]

User: "congratulations on another achievement, Emmrich took the silver trophy" // Sylvia: "I was so excited to see we'd gotten the silver trophy! I hope everyone who worked on him sees that." [source]

User: "Is there anywhere we can follow your future work after this account gets shut down ?" // Sylvia: "TBH I'll probably just reopen it it there's any cool news to share since I don't have a website or anything. (I THINK I can just reactivate it?)" [source]

User: "Thank you for Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, emmrich, Liara and Leigon!!!!" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (I should mention I was only a part of Legion in ME3 - specifically the N7 mission into the Geth Consensus. Great fun to work on that level though.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm lucky to have had the chance to bring Emmrich and Josephine to you all with the rest of the team." [source]

Sylvia: ""I still remember when you introduced yourself on old BSN when Lair of the Shadow Broker came out." Wow, you're right I did! That is a blast from the past. Thank you for the kind words!" [source]

User: "Just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing characters you helped bring to life in DA and ME. I really enjoyed Emmrich and Hezenkoss in DAV. The dynamic between them really made me laugh" // Sylvia: "Thanks! That was one of my favorite pairs to write, the history between them meant everything was always a little more personal, which is always fun." [source]

Sylvia: "Thanks Janette, loved writing Hollix." [source]

User: "Elements of Emmerich's costume resemble the Cerberus logo from ME. Is this just a reference or is there something more to it?" // Sylvia: "Gee, I can't say for sure because I didn't make it, but I'd assume that one's just a coincidence (since the Mourn Watch and Necropolis use hexagonal shapes as their primary shape language)" [source]

User: "I can just tell how well Emmrich is written along his fear. I lost my fear of death and dying as I began to honor the dead." // Sylvia: "I do think talking and thinking about these things more than we normally do helps eases the fear." [source]

Sylvia: "Thank you for these lovely thoughts. I did read some books about different customs around death, and I know a little about pagan/occult/magic practices (in a very basic and generalist sense.) So it doesn't surprise me per se, but I am very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich was a positive thing. And I'm also very glad to hear he's someone you feel you can take into the future with you as a helpful friend." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""Does Emmrich have any guilty pleasures?" Huh. Excellent question. I should really be more decisive about my own character, but while I think that could be fun, I'm not sure what it would be. "Oh one other question , is there a part of thedas you wish you could of explored but wasn't able to be in game?" I've always been interested in the sinister sounding Sea of Ash. What goes on over there???" [source, two]

User: "i have a silly little question bc i also love emmrich. was his scene revealing lichdom to everyone meant to parallel a trans coming out or was that accidental? because i felt on an existential level the thrill of revealing who you are, but also fearing people would be afraid or treat you differently. (and then there's strife discussions, and putting up a glamour some places but not others, and the blooming but gentle self-confidence... he is very transgender to me)" // Sylvia: "Not a silly question at all! After writing the scene I wondered if people would see similarities because of those overlapping themes you pointed out: the dignity of bodily self-determination, revealing your true self to those you love, fear of rejection, hope for acceptance. But during the writing, I mostly approached becoming undead as its own thing, because I wanted to ground it in the MW's particular philosophy. I think there's parallels because of the way the human personal is universal, if that makes sense. That said, if this does feel very transgender to you or anyone else (or not), I'm not against varied interpretations. That's one of the cool things about seeing people actually get their hands on your work." [source, two, three]

User: "I'm not sure what Emmrich's hairstyle is, slickback?" // Sylvia: "Good question. Afraid I don't know what it'd be called either. Googling it, slickback LOOKS correct?" [source]

User: "Emmrich has definitely developed a special bond with Bellara and Lucanis, and yet, both of them don't comment on his relationship with Rook! What would you say their reaction was? Their banter was so good I'm sure we'd all love to know what Emmrich had to say!" // Sylvia: "Ah, that one I'm afraid I can't answer since I'm not their writer, and that would've been something I would've discussed with the narrative team together. Sorry!" [source]

Sylvia: "Nick was indeed brilliant!" [source]

User: "Ive got quite bad thanatophobia and Emmerich's writing is one of the only times I've seen that dealt with actually respectfully." // Sylvia: "Thanks very much! I've experienced that fear, and I suspect it's way more common than we think, and I'm glad to hear it felt that way to you." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" // Sylvia: "that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: [was] "Dorian was taken over by a nominated writer for veilguard or if his legacy was more of a team effort ?" // Sylvia: "Dorian was in the capable hands of Writer Chee" [source]

User: "I’m also dying to know what Emmrich did during Rook's stint in the prison-my thought is he not only did the majority of the work on finding Rook, but in leading the team, prob finishing touches on the dagger clone, keeping the team together in Rook’s absence while barely holding himself together at times" // Sylvia: "I think he was indeed having some very sleepless, guilt-wracked nights, working himself too hard, and trying his best on that dagger." [source]

User: "I just wanted to tell you that I love Emmrich's part of the lighthouse the books the fact that it's right next to rook's room and that johanna is in it later and that you can talk to her" // Sylvia: "Thank you! I love what the level artist there did, it's such a cozy den of a place. And I'm glad you liked meeting Hezenkoss afterwards, all praise to the level and tech designers who got her in there." [source]

User: "Are the Watchers overall vegetarian, or was it a personal preference Emmrich developed?" // Sylvia: "I think it's a thing among some Watchers, but not all. Because they think a lot about life and death and the cycle of life, and their place in it, and what constitutes a death they feel comfortable with or not. My actual, original inspiration for it was from an old Call of Cthulhu TRPG book about Miskatonic University, set in the 1920s. There was a great little detail about the campus having a cafeteria that serves vegetarians. And when I read it, I got a little jolt because I was so used to vegetarianism in North America being portrayed as a relatively modern movement. But of COURSE there's always exceptions and cultural enclaves and so on. Just one of those moments you feel your understanding of what we were up to in the past shift a little, even if it felt obvious in retrospect." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia re: writing Manfred: "Yep, Manfred was my guy too." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed meeting our gentleman necromancer. (Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on, he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source]

User: "I was curious I know none of emmrich's serious relationships ended up panning out But like did any of them get to the point that him and his partner at the time shared a living space I'm wondering if emmrich has ever lived with anyone besides manfred" // Sylvia: "That's an interesting question. Like a coward I will hedge my bets, but I could MAYBE see a few. Not many though." [source]

[nalyra-dreaming]

I'd love to hear your opinion on Mayfair Witches now that s2 is done

as a show coexisting in the same universe as IWTV

as a standalone story ignoring the rest of the universe

the writing, the acting, maybe even the production of the show

the fanbase it's attracted both good and bad

That's probably a lot, sorry!😅

Okay, so I sat on this for a while...

The show coexisting in the same universe:

The thing is, IWTV stretched the lore and book canon a bit, in a way. Lestat's little poker table scene can be explained (while squinting a bit) with the existing gifts. Lestat's powers, Louis' powers and Armand's are all well within canon limits, especially with the setting and age adaptions. The visualization is fitting.

Mayfair Witches... is not that. Now, it's been ages, since I read the books, but these witches are not the usual spell casters iirc. It started off well enough, imho, but especially in the second season the show not only made the witches different kind of witches, but even worse: they also made the Talamasca a different kind of order.

And that is going to be a problem, imho, sooner or later.

The Talamasca are an order of watchers in the books. Founded by ghosts and vampires they are ruled by those "elders", and their members have some capabilities, at best. A few can see ghosts, a few have mental abilities, a few can direct spirits.

That's it, more or less.

Mayfair Witches gave the Talamasca portals, the ability to remove memories(!), real spells, and healing transfer powers, so abilities that are very much beyond the scope of the order in the books.

As such, this show which does coexist in the same universe of IWTV - and Talamasca - has established show canon now for the other shows as well, and ... it is going to be interesting, to put it mildly, to see this fit with the other two.

I do think that the amount of thought that was put into these changes (not as much as should have been...) will mean trouble sooner or later.

The show as a standalone:

As a standalone MW is... dull. Imho. The witches do not have any real power, they depend on the Taltos, and they all seem often a bit surprised by magic happening. There's weird effects, and phrases like "thrall" used for things that are decidedly not a "thrall" (like, that word exists. Why change the meaning for the show???). The universe is never explained, flashbacks not made recognizable as such. Whole story lines are forgotten through the seasons, Ciprien's sister not heard of again, and so on.

It is a show that you can watch while doing something else.

Which is also, likely, why it's doing so well on streaming.

Writing, acting, production:

*sighs* (Do I have to?)

Jen Richards who plays JoJo is actually my favorite actress. Unfortunately she more or less misses for most of the second season in said "thrall". I also liked Alyssa Jirrels as Moira (they changed Mona to Moira, and she's a whole different character), and Tongayi Chirisa as Ciprien. Jack Huston did a better job as Lasher in season 2 than season 1.

Alexandra Daddario is a very beautiful woman, and I get why they chose her, but her acting is bad in this show. So is her voice modulation. It just... I don't know if it was the directing or if the part just is beyond her, but in any case, she cannot carry Rowan. Most of the time Rowan is superfluous in a show that supposedly revolves around her. (I talked about it here as well, and, well, am not alone in this take.)

The costumes are better in s2, now that Carol is on it, and it shows. While the show is in NOLA the city carries the show a bit, but the parts in Scotland were just... IDK.

The effects they chose for the skills, for the "spells" all look cheap. I'm sorry, but ... like Rowan scanning someone's body, right, and they put a "scanner light" onto the screen, not kidding. Whyyyyyyyy. Some pulsing in veins overlaying the image would have been better, for example, just as an idea off the top of my head. Rowan searching for Lasher?! She's running around holding out her hand, I'm not kidding. She conjures a flame, and it's literally the poor little brother of IWTV, with the flames flickering on Armand's hand and Rowan... has a little candle light fire. Again, not kidding.

And so on.

The writing is abysmal.

Story lines introduced and abandoned, powers or spells never explained. Lore just there, but up for the viewer to guess. Canon lore blown up. Characters changed completely, or forgotten about in the seasons' run. Things done without considering the repercussions.

Some dialogue was so stupid it hurt, especially in Scotland for some reason. Ben Feldman's dialogue comes to mind here though I would need to rewatch to cite it (and I refuse to, sorry).

The fanbase.

IDK - is there one?

I know there are fans of the books - and I KNOW that a lot of people put their hopes into the show at the beginning. I, also, had hoped it would be quite different.

The show ... is just not good. And I do think that reflects on the social media channels. I do think the relatively good streaming numbers come from the basic advertising visuals and the fact that you can just watch it without needing to pay much attention.

But unfortunately it does not even make much sense then... AND, remember the SDCC poster?

They don't even have the flaming dress in the show.

What else is there to say, really.

[ollypopwrites]

WIP Whenever

Got tagged by darling @razildor

I am going to be posting a one-shot today, BUT this is from the sequel to Aureate. It does reference stuff from that fic, but you could probably read it alone (so far) without being too confused.

it’s still in first drafts but it’s Emmrich x MW!Rook, post-game.

no pressure tagging: @flightlessangelwings (i will always tag you my love), @bankabb , @the-bear-and-his-sunbird and anyone else who wants to play (pls tag me in your post so i can see it!)

She was almost certain he’d say yes. The odds were very much in her favor for once. He’d given her Grave Gold. He’d asked her to move in with him. He’d torn open the Fade using somewhat questionable means to retrieve her from the Regret Prison.

Emmrich hadn’t been subtle in his devotion.

He was probably going to say yes.

But she was still shaking. Maybe Arlathan was a bad choice. After the Veil had been restored to its strength by Solas, and the gods had been killed, Arlathan was more stable. It was still a pocket of strange magic and the Veil was thinner there than almost anywhere else, but it was safer than ever before. Its natural cycles of seasons had begun again, the new Spring giving way to more blooming flowers than she had ever seen in her entire life.

Emmrich was ecstatic about it. Arlathan wasn’t a bad choice.

Bellara had set everything up, made sure to ward the clearing from any unwanted visitors whether they were demonic or mortal. Rook had ran for pastries in Orlais, dinner from Nevarra, and wine from Treviso. It was a perfect picnic, one of few plans of hers that had ever gone right.

What if the thing that went wrong was the damn proposal?

Emmrich was talking about flowers: that one had remarkable healing properties, this one had a flavor that paired nicely with cardamom in a tea and he picked a few that were known to be aphrodisiacs in some circles. Thank the Maker for his verbosity because Rook couldn’t make words, her tongue felt too big for her mouth, the box in her pocket may as well have been a lead weight and she was still shaking like a fucking leaf.

Emmrich wasn’t talking anymore. She looked up at him, seeing him smile, just a little sheepish. “My apologies, I’ve been prattling on,” he said, “tell me, what did you and Manfred get up to today?”

“We went to the city,” she said. “To get the food.”

“A wonderful selection,” he complimented.

“Good.”

“Are you alright, dearest?”

“I went to visit your parents today.” Rook blurted out. “I brought them flowers.”

His eyebrows lifted towards each other, a fond smile on his lips. “That’s very dear of you.”

“You should talk more,” Rook said quickly. “How is Fabian’s theory coming along.”

“It’s coming along brilliantly,” Emmrich said but leaned in, “but what is the matter, Rook?”

“I love hearing you talk. Especially when you talk to yourself, I think it’s adorable. And you’re probably the most clever person I know and I don’t know how I tricked you into loving me back but I’m glad I did.”

“Darling,” he was laughing at her a little bit. “It was no trick, you captured my heart entirely on your own merit. I stood no chance against it.”

“Stop saying pretty things, I’m trying to be the one who says pretty things,” she said back.

“Apologies.” He was still stifling a chuckle.

[justjenah]

Latvia Mike: A Disconnected OverMike Hiding in Plain Sight

Of all the Mikes Walters (species) Latvia Mike is the one that seems to be most often taken at face value. He’s the responsible one, the one who likes to go into things with a clear plan. He prefers to abide by protocol if at all possible but will throw protocol aside if you give him a good enough reason

He’s the one true Mike, the only iteration that is allowed to use the name “Mike”, everyone else has to find something new. Michael makes this explicit when he tells MW that “‘Mike’ is taken” in episode 91 . 

More often than not, Latvia Mike has to do very little to earn his iterations' trust. His motivations are almost never questioned. This is likely in part because in addition to being older and more experienced than the "Mikey Generation," he has historically acted as a calming influence and a rational counterbalance to Michael's more inflammatory and reckless impulses. He is unafraid to challenge Michael or other "Michael Generation" iterations.

Not only that, Latvia Mike has often done his best to protect Mikey. For example he advises Mikey to lock his door after the Alaska Mikey incident and despite threatening to do otherwise, he ultimately tried to cover for Mikey when he was sneaking around with the calculator to investigate Edman's cure when he was supposed to be focused on helping the Texas posse break Base out of the Dome. And it's not just physically protection that Mike has offered but emotional protection as well. Mike offered to kill Innocent Hutner for Mikey, recognizing how difficult it might be for him.

It's not just Mikey that benefit from Latvia Mike's instinct to protect either. Mike has gone out of his way to protect Michael and MW as well. The man spent 43 days attempting to break Michael out of the compound. And while it backfired horribly, Mike protected whom he thought was the Dome iteration of Michael and insisted that the Michael who escaped to Texas keep his word and consolidate. While that iteration turned out not to be the Dome iteration but Lieutenant, it was a still a protective action. When they brought back an injured OverMike, it was Mike who most vehemently opposed killing the iteration and hatched the plan to train him and consolidate him instead of allowing Michael to kill the runaway OverMikes.

It seems likely that this habit of caretaking has afforded Latvia Mike a image of trustworthiness. And while he's not without his missteps, that image has been well earned—or at the very least well cultivated—among the Council of Mikes.

And yet I am fairly certain that Mike is not what he seems to be. Namely, I think there is significant evidence that Latvia Mike is not connected to Mikey. In fact I am not sure he’s connected to any of the Mike Walters iterations we’ve met so far. I’d argue that as it stands, in order to find a Mike Walters iteration that Latvia Mike is connected to you would need to travel back to before the first iteration of Mike Walters (species) was made.

Looking at all the evidence (and there is a surprising amount of it) I’d argue that Latvia Mike is actually a disconnected OverMike whose time period of origin is five years in the future from Mikey. 

This theory goes way back to not long after we first meet Latvia Mike. The evidence begins with episode 50, the second episode in which Latvia Mike appears.

In Episode 50: Propagation & Consolidation Latvia Mike gives us our first ever mention of OverMike in the show: 

“One goal at a time, right. Wouldn’t want to Propagate,” [Mike] said. “I remember the time. It gets better, eventually. It’s not always going to be you taking Edgar and Anne’s word on what you should do. But it’s exciting, right? Everything is shiny and new and you’ve got that new Calculator to play with. Do you have an O.V.E.R. Mike yet?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I replied.

“Ah, I won’t propagate that information, then,” he said. 

On its own, this isn’t much in the way of evidence. The first time I listened to this episode I remember thinking it was strange but assumed it was merely an easter egg of things to come. 

It isn’t until the next episode, 51, Corrections, Corrections , that I questioned Latvia Mike’s iterative origins. In that episode Latvia Mike and Michael show up at the house in Rugby North Dakota to rescue Mikey who has just had the ever loving shit beat out of him. Michael shows up and the two have the following exchange: 

Michael: So uh, I assume your instructions didn’t say to kill him or to let him die?

Mike: No, but I can’t imagine that it matters too much. I don’t think he’s connected to us. Did yours?

Latvia Mike assuming that Mikey isn’t connected to him or Michael is such a WILD assumption based on what we know up until this point. Mikey himself assumes that one day he will “become” them. Michael even famously tells Mikey in episode 44 “You turn into me, remember that.” (it’s even the name of the episode!). I’ll talk a little bit later why I think they are incorrect about Mikey “becoming” Michael, but suffice to say at least up until this point Latvia Mike is the only iteration of the three of them to explicitly declare any sort of disconnectivity. In 51 Mike states quite plainly that he’s fairly confident that at this point, Mikey dying shouldn’t really affect him. 

Exactly when in the timeline Latvia Mike becomes disconnected is a little unclear to me (more on that later) and I question his assertion that Mikey dying at this specific point in time wouldn’t affect Latvia Mike. That said, the point remains the same that Latvia Mike seems confident that at some point there will be enough disconnectivity between himself and Mikey that Mikey could die and Mike wouldn’t be affected. This assumption on Latvia Mike’s part speaks to knowledge that he has about his own iterative origins. 

The clearest piece of evidence in support of my theory comes just a couple episodes later with episode 54, Connectivity . Mikey, Edgar, Marissa, and Anne are all working together at Base to troubleshoot the issue of Ravi having witnessed Mikey breaking into Tier Two. Anne suggests popping the tires of the golf cart that Marissa and Ravi both use on their patrol routes so that he doesn’t witness Mikey’s break-ins. 

And then Latvia Mike shows up looking like he “had been thoroughly chewed up and spat out”, with injuries including a clouded over right eye and a missing thumb that is long scarred and healed over. 

This is already pretty wild in that this tire popping correction that Anne, Edgar, and Marissa are planning has skipped right over Mikey. Mikey is unaffected by this plan to pop the tires. Even more interesting is that Michael is unaffected by the plan to pop the tires. 

But that is not the most damning evidence. Latvia Mike shows up angry, disoriented, and emotional. And in that state, in the middle of him issuing this correction to prevent his abduction, it seems like he let’s something pretty damn important slip: 

“I just have one minor correction here: did it never occur to any of you dolts that if the cart is out of commission on a certain night that SOMEONE might be captured and interrogated, imprisoned, tortured, used as a blackmail pawn and generally be a profound hindrance to Base for YEARS? All because the cart didn’t get fixed in time? That cart has to come crashing through the border of Tier 2 or Mike Walters is in trouble. So, if you’re going to go through with that, could you do O.V.E.R. Mike a big favor and make sure you drive one of those nails right through his brain stem while you’re at it and save us the trouble? ”

Let’s zero in on that for a second: “could you do O.V.E.R. Mike a big favor and make sure you drive one of those nails right through his brain stem while you’re at it and save us the trouble?”

Here, Latvia Mike strongly implies his connectivity to an OverMike. He essentially tells Mikey to kill OverMike, thus killing Latvia Mike, to prevent him from having to go through being “captured and interrogated, imprisoned, tortured, used as a blackmail pawn and generally be a profound hindrance to Base for YEARS”.  

Between the tire popping correction skipping over Mikey, and Latvia Mike himself implying connectivity to OverMike, it seems pretty likely that Mike is correct, he isn't connected to Mikey. He doesn’t even seem to be connected to Michael in the episode given that Michael was still a cowboy and seemingly unaffected by the correction but that feels less certain at this point (more evidence that Mike is not connected to Michael will come later though so hold your horses, pard). 

The next time it’s implied that there is not connectivity between Mikey and Mike is in episode 65, double knot . Mikey has recently escaped from the compound after his second imprisonment there (this is after Punished transported Mikey to the Latvian woods) and has been scooped up by Latvia Mike and Michael. On the ride back to Riga the following exchange takes place:

MIKEY: Oh! Oh, I have–I have notes from a mattress. Here–[paper crinkling] Here, read them it was definitely a Mikey but it wasn’t me. I found them in the mattress in my room at the compound. He must’ve put them there. Mike none of this happened to you? I was hoping you’d remember something. 

MIKE: No, can’t say that I do. 

Latvia Mike did not experience a second stay in the compound. This is not entirely surprising at this point given that we know from episode 55, The Surprise Field Trip, that Latvia Mike and Michael had no idea that the compound was based in Latvia until after the two of them came back to Mikey’s time period to establish Satellite Base. 

Latvia Mike and Michael never experienced a second stay in the compound (something Michael obliquely confirmed in his phone call to Ty Betteridge in episode 60, Ready to Die) or the Hunter’s destruction of Base. This is made even stranger by the fact that Mikey’s second stay in the compound is never corrected despite the fact that the Hunter’s attack on Base is corrected (Alaska Mikey makes this explicit when states that he knows nothing about the Hunter’s attack on Base or even what Base is yet was still transported to the Latvian woods by an unknown party when Mike goes to talk to him in episode 71, studies ). This implies that regardless of whether the Hunters destroy Base, Mikey’s second stay in the compound always happens. Which should mean that if Mike and Michael are connected to him, that those events should’ve theoretically propagated forward in time, much like what happened with the nails and the golf cart’s tire. 

The next bit of evidence isn’t so much proof that Mike is an OverMike but more that he and Michael are disconnected from Mikey. What I am referring to is the existence of Mustardseed and the runaway OvEdgars and OverMikes. 

When these two things are introduced Mike and Michael are just as in the dark as Mikey. They have no idea who Mustardseed is and the events of episode 78, Ax make that extremely clear. Furthermore it’s in episode 84, Panther , that Michael first learns about the existence of the runaway OverMike and OvEdgars. Which, again, their existence is never corrected. Instead the runaways are captured after their escape and consolidated. 

This implies that Latvia Mike and OverMike’s connectivity broke down at some point between the events of episode 48 (the event that the tire popping plan was meant to correct) and whenever it was that OverMike and OvEdgar made all those runaway iterations (which is implied to have have happened around episode 79, Mutiny). I’d argue the disconnection point is likely prior to episode 60 (Ready to Die) seeing as the OverTeam is executed along with everyone else at Base and Latvia Mike is totally fine (well as fine as one can be when lost at sea with your older cowboy iteration). 

This means that if someone wants to take out Latvia Mike specifically, they would need to kill OverMike sometime prior to the events of Ready to Die, or, like we see in 109, if you don’t care about preserving any Mike Walters iterations, you could simply kill Mikey prior to him iterating himself. 

The next time we see Latvia Mike possibly slipping up is in episode 100, Clipshow . It’s a blink and you miss it sort of exchange and on its own doesn’t seem like much but, taken together with everything that has come before, it reads like Mike speaking without thinking: 

MIKEY: Edgar said that he didn’t send anyone. What do we do?

MIKE: Take Bruno into Michael’s room and lock the door, Mikey.

MIKEY: W-What? Why?

MIKE: Because there’s an extra iteration of you out there and we don’t know what’s going on. 

MIKEY: I don’t see why that means that I have to go hide. He’s an iteration of you, too.

MICHAEL: Do what he says, Mikey.

Latvia Mike looks out the peephole of the door and sees a younger iteration and jumps to the natural conclusion that it is an iteration of Mikey. Note that he doesn’t think it’s an iteration of MW, which is a little odd. MW and Mikey are approximately the same age. A younger iteration is just as likely to be an iteration of MW as it is Mikey (if not more so given how iteration happy the OVER team was in Mikey’s iteration of the timeline). It’s made all the more ironic by the fact that it is OverMike (specifically Mustardseed’s husband) who is standing on the other side of the door. 

This episode also reintroduces the idea that Latvia Mike is disconnected from all of this time period’s OverMikes at this point in time because he seems completely unworried about Michael and MW executing the poor party crashing OverMike. It’s true we don’t see OverMike actually killed in the episode as it happens off screen but if Latvia Mike is connected to this specific OverMike, he is putting on a very good act and also seeming to take it on faith that Michael and MW won’t actually kill this OverMike, never mind the earlier evidence that Mike had no idea about Mustardseed’s identity or the existence of the runaways. 

If you’ve been sitting there screaming at the screen that I skipped right over one of the biggest pieces of physical evidence that Latvia Mike and Mikey aren’t connected, don’t worry, I’m getting to it. That’s right: Mikey’s brand. 

This brand has survived corrected timelines again and again and yet Latvia Mike and Michael are NEVER mentioned as having it and they are NEVER asked to show the brand as proof of their identity. On the contrary Latvia Mike seems to always check for Mikey’s brand. 

Notably when Mike shows up in episode 135, The Conundrum Of The Cowboy's Codex,  Mikey does not demand that Latvia Mike show the brand to prove himself, while Mikey DOES show the brand. In fact Mike’s “proof” that he is Latvia Mike is merely:  

MIKE: Wedding ring, cauliflower ear, a couple more wrinkles than you

And that’s it ! 

When it comes to Latvia Mike the brand is NEVER brought up as a means of proof and yet Latvia Mike uses Mikey’s brand as a baseline for proving Mikey’s identity time and again. Most recently, Latvia Mike does a brand check on Mikey in episode 153 when Mikey decides to do some futurescouting and drops by Mike’s house five years in the future. 

This next bit from episode 166: Lucid/Psychedelic may or may not be anything but I thought it worth noting because Mike has often made clear distinctions between himself and Mikey and yet he says the following to MW, who is notably 32 OverMikes in a skin suit: 

MIKE [addressing MW]: You're me and I drink almond milk all the time

The final hint that Latvia Mike’s iterative origins stem from an OverMike (as of this writing) is in episode 167: Contradiction/Connection. Michael, Mike, MDawg, and MW all show up at the Crust Punk House to talk with Old Man and they end up roping in Skinner. During their conversation Skinner brings up Skuzz being kidnapped and wants to know if any of these Mike Walters iterations had anything to do with it. 

MICHAEL: None of us cowboys knows no one by the name of Skuzz. SKINNER: Skuzz? Skinny, messy hair, too cool for school, might have tried to work Broken Social Scene into the conversation while you were killing them or kidnapping them or whatever it was you did to them…

MIKE: Wait, Skuzz Skuzz? Like the one who mows the lawn at O.V.E.R.

  SKINNER: No, dummy the other Skuzz. Yeah, of course that Skuzz.

Mike is the only iteration in the room who seems to know who Skuzz is. Which doesn’t have to mean anything but seems notable if he is in fact an OverMike. If Mike is an OverMike whose experience of this time period was never marred by the existence of Mustardseed, then Mike spent considerable more time working and living at OVER and therefore had greater opportunities to get to know the landscaping team at OVER. Skuzz doesn’t seem to even ring any bells for Michael, meanwhile Latvia Mike is able to correctly identify whom Skinner is talking about. 

So where does that leave us?

My theory is that in Latvia Mike’s experience of this time period, he was Future Base’s OverMike. But in Latvia Mike’s experience of this time period things shook out extremely differently. My theory is that the OVER team was much more involved in Future Base’s goings on than they are in Mikey’s iteration of the timeline. In Mikey’s iteration of the timeline, the OVER team is rarely included unless Base requires them to sneak into Tier Two. This is a huge point of friction between the OVER team and Mikey’s Base. Yet this friction does not seem to have existed in Latvia Mike's iteration of this time period (or at least not to the point that it exists for Mikey’s Base and Mikey’s OVER team seeing as Mustardseed and the runaway OVER iterations are unique to Mikey's experience). 

For Latvia Mike I think that, unlike in Mikey’s iteration of the timeline, the OVER team continued to exist as an extension of Future Base for years. After all in episode 82, Digging , when Latvia Mike’s attempt to correct Michael’s disappearance using a calculator fails, one of the things that Latvia Mike attempts is breaking into Tier Two with Edgar to see if using the security.exe program will overcome whatever barrier is preventing Latvia Mike from issuing his correction. Again this isn’t some major piece of evidence but it does suggest that Mike and his Edgar are still familiar with 116E, Tier Two, and the security.exe program, something that Michael mentions being a vague memory for him at this point. 

I think at some point Future Base transitioned Latvia Mike and his Edgar to some sort of Satellite Base within Latvia Mike’s own time period and is likely where they got the idea to establish a Satellite Base in Latvia in Mikey’s time period. 

I believe that more than likely in Latvia Mike’s experience of the timeline, his and his Edgar’s roles shifted from being the OVER team to becoming a “disconnected corrections team” much like the role that Mikey’s OVER team’s played in episode 72, Council , in which they act as a corrections team for the peace treaty meeting that Base holds with the Hunters. So while Future Base works on their projects and conducts recon and technology retrieval missions, the OVER team (made up of Latvia Mike and his Edgar) are disconnected from their iterations (much like Tex and Outlaw seem disconnected from theirs) and able to respond to any timeline disturbances and issue corrections to protect Future Base. 

When events start to diverge more drastically in Mikey’s time period, I think Base realized that they needed a team back there to stop the ground shifting from under Future Base’s feet and undoing all of Future Base’s progress. When Michael traveled to Latvia Mike’s time period to help out (and escape from living in a time period without an Edgar), they had the perfect opportunity to establish a remote Satellite Base in the past with Michael and Latvia Mike, both of whom were tethered to Future Base's time period by Latvia Mike’s Edgar who would run missions from five years in the future. 

So. If Latvia Mike is a disconnected OverMike, how the hell did he become disconnected? I don’t have one specific theory for this but let’s at least look at different ways it seems one could become disconnected.  

In 168: Anonymous Councils/Edible Bombs , we first learn about disconnectivity devices. They are rare and expensive. MDawg recognizes it for what it is but it’s not made clear who else is familiar with them other than Other Chris and Old Man. It’s possible that Future Base got their hands on some disconnectivity devices and used them on Latvia Mike and his Edgar but it feels unlikely. Then again, maybe five years in the future time travel technology has advanced such that disconnectivity devices are easier to come by.

 Another way you might become disconnected seems to be as result of an incomplete correction. In the 101 timeline when the Hunters completely take over via a major correction (or many many many corrections layered on top of one another, who knows), Tex and Outlaw somehow are unaffected by the new timeline. They retain memories from the previous iteration of the timeline and are unaffected by the Hunter’s changes despite the fact that those changes clearly go back before Mikey and Edgar got together since Mikey and Edgar are not even dating in as of 2023 in the 101 timeline. If that can happen accidentally, more than likely it is something that can be done intentionally though I imagine it would take quite a few attempts to achieve the desired results and would be incredibly risky. 

Another possible way to create disconnectivity might be for an iteration to somehow correct their own creation. We know that the calculators solve paradoxes and it seems to me that if an OverMike corrected their own creation, that iteration would still have to exist in order to have issued that correction. But without the iteration event, the iteration that issued the correction would exist as a disconnected individual. 

Finally, one of my favorite disconnectivity practices is one that I think we are actively watching play out between Mikey and Michael. That is, through prolonged and significant interaction with/exposure to a past version of yourself that you start out connected to. This method I think takes significant time and exposure and that connectivity likely degrades slowly over time as the two iterations continue to interact and influence one another’s experiences of the timeline. This is why I think that Mikey will never “become” Michael.

Which one do I think Latvia Mike and his Edgar used? No idea! 

Now I know what you’re thinking. If this is true and Latvia Mike is a disconnected OverMike, why on earth hasn’t he told anyone? Why is he keeping this a secret? 

The answer is simple. It’s just smart. It’s good infosec and a matter of self preservation. Look at Mystery Hunter and Punished Hunter (and H, if we are counting him separately from Mystery). The fact that we don’t know their iterative origins makes them much more difficult to kill. 

Mike keeping this secret doesn’t have to be nefarious. We’ve seen time and time again that limiting the spread of information is key to staying alive and controlling the timeline. Latvia Mike can trust Mikey, MW, and Michael all he wants but that doesn’t make it safe to propagate the information of his and his Edgar’s iterative origins. Latvia Mike himself makes this point to Mikey in episode 153, Futurescouting when. When Mikey is suspicious of Tex for not sharing information Latvia Mike makes this case: 

MIKE: I will admit that is odd, but I would be cautious about jumping to conclusions. You know as well as I do that there are lots of good reasons to not tell someone everything you know, even if you know and trust the person. 

In the WOEBEGONE universe, keeping one's iterative origins secret, even from the people you trust is just smart. Hiding that information isn’t even about distrust, it’s about propagation risk—something which can happen accidentally very easily. Mike not telling Mikey (and possibly Michael) his iterative origins isn’t a sign of disloyalty or even distrust among iterations, it’s merely a sign of self preservation (never mind the preservation of Latvia Mike’s Edgar) because once that information is entrusted to anyone other than yourself, your very existence is at risk should that information reach the wrong people.

Now, why do I think that Latvia Mike isn’t connected to Michael? There are many little hints at this scattered throughout the show but I’ll just highlight a couple of them including a pretty major one from the most recent episode as of this writing.

First, even if they were connected at the start of the Latvian Sat Base’s creation, I think Michael has changed Mike’s trajectory such that Mike can never become Michael. Michael pulled Mike out of a deep depression and has repeatedly tried to guide Mike to make better, healthier choices than Michael has. 

A more specific moment that points to Michael not having connectivity with Latvia Mike is back in Episode 51. Michael asks Mike what his experience of Rugby was, something Michael would presumably know if he were connected to Mike.

Indeed most recently in episode 172, Ghostfire, Latvia Mike says pretty specifically that he will not turn into Michael/Old Man and that in five years he won’t be doing the things that Michael/Old Man is currently doing: 

MIKE: You’ve seen me and Old Man in a room together. That's me from the future—kind of. He’s not necessarily me, but he is, but that doesn't mean that like five years from now that I’m going to be doing all the things that he’s doing now.

In the same episode Latvia Mike goes on to explain connectivity and gives the following example: 

MIKE: If you killed me, Old Man wouldn’t die even though I keep saying that he’s quote, ‘me from the future’.

Given that killing Mikey on his first day at OVER in 109 successfully eliminated all other Mike Walters iterations, thus preventing Mike and Michael from existing, this statement from Mike (that his death would not kill Old Man/Michael) seems like an especially important claim because Latvia Mike is indicating that there isn’t connectivity between himself and Old Man/Michael, who as of that episode is the closest Michael iteration we have. 

Now, if Latvia Mike and his Edgar are not connected to Mikey and Mikey’s Edgar, what does that mean? There are likely many ramifications of this being true but the one that leaps to my mind is the cure for Edgar. 

Mikey floats the possibility that since his Edgar has consolidated with Edman—who supposedly was cured by OI—that Mikey’s Edgar might also be cured. If Mikey’s Edgar is cured, that cure should propagate forward to all the other future Edgars that have connectivity to Mikey’s Edgar. 

Of course, if Latvia Mike’s Edgar is a disconnected OvEdgar, that would mean he did not receive the cure . While disconnectivity is, in many ways, protective and a tool that can be used to shield iterations from potential timeline meddling from hostile parties, in this instance it spells Latvia Mike’s Edgar’s doom. Mikey’s Edgar, Michael’s Edgar, MDawg’s Edgar all would benefit from this cure (so long as Michael’s Edgar is indeed still connected to Mikey’s) but Latvia Mike’s Edgar is still slated to die before October 2025. 

Worse, because Latvia Mike is hiding the fact that he’s a disconnected OverMike, his own Edgar’s death is misleading to Mikey and Michael. It would give Mikey and Michael the impression that their Edgars didn’t receive the cure and that they are still slated to die even though they very well may not be.

Only time will tell if this theory will bear any fruit but I’ll tell you right now, I’ve gone looking for evidence that specifically disproves it and it doesn’t exist. At least not yet. Of course, as with all things, only time will tell. 

[cider-and-isekai]

So I just had this weird idea and had to write it down at 2 AM

So Istheria is an elven MW OC who joins Rook's team (in this case it's my first Rook, Ritha, also MW). She has a very special ability even for a Watcher.

Special thanks to @fantalpacca for help!

The ever-changing, no matter how stable here, energy of the Fade was nothing new to Emmrich. It was both his field of study as the Mourn Watcher and his haunt as a mage. He felt it, yes, but it was like calm wind, lazy like on a summer day. It was there, but after years of magical education and study feeling it was sometimes more natural than breathing.

It was only then he heard something. Unsure of where the noise came from he went downstairs and looked around. The noise was almost like a thud, like a body hitting the floor. Not brutally, but definitely audible. He looked around again, trying to remember where the noise came from.

Istheria’s room.

He was about to knock or call her name, but then he saw Lucanis. The situation began to be more bizarre than he anticipated.

- Emmrich, have you see… heard Spite? I… don’t know where he is, honestly – assasin seemed worried about his demon.

- I have not – necromancer stopped for a second – but now I suspect we’re headed in the same direction.

He began to realise what could’ve happened, but he needed a, well, not solid, but a proof he was right. And Lucanis was the best person to check it with him.

After fruitleslly knocking at the door and calling Istheria’s name he said:

- I hate to do it, but we’ve exhausted the other options – he pushed the door peeking inside as soon as he could.

They both didn’t expect what was behind them, though.

The Crow was first to respond.

But the only words that left his mouth weren’t the most wise or describing the situation completely.

- Mierda. Spite, really? – he looked at the demon on Istheria’s bed.

He didn’t see the full picture, he was sure of it. Spite was there, manifested in Lucanis' casual clothes. It wouldn’t be too strange, he learned to do it after few missions, but now there was something extra.

Or someone.

Spite was clearly hugging someone, but he couldn’t see who. His arms were wrapped around someone most likely sitting up, his face buried into that person. The answer followed soon enough.

- Istheria… - Emmrich looked at her body laying down on the carpet. That’s where not too subtle thud came from.

- Shh – he heard – turns out demon’s need rest too. And hugs, surprisingly.

- And… you weren’t afraid? Not for a second? Even for an elven Mourn Watcher leaving your body is quite the danger – she heard a tad bit of teacher’s anger, but it was really faint.

She could tell he was impressed.

- Nope. Spite’s cool. And he’s calm now. Really. I didn’t expect that either, Professor – she said, he heard smile in her voice.

Lucanis stood there, almost speechless. He couldn't hear or see a thing aside from Spite which got him way too confused. Now he knew how others felt about him talking to Spite aside from Ritha, who could see and hear his demon after they went through his mind prison. After getting his courage and jaw back from the floor, he spoke.

- So… Istheria’s the one Spite’s hugging? What happened here?

- I’ll tell you myself once I’m back…

- This might take you a bit, young lady. You carelessly left your body and hit your head. Even if you get back to your body now it’ll take you some time to wake up. I do believe your body would be unconscious even with your spirit inside. Lucanis, she told you she’ll speak to you later. I’m afraid we’re not getting much more out of her right now.

- All right, I'll get my answers in time. But this is... odd. She… tamed a demon? Even I have trouble controlling him every now and then…

- Istheria has a special gift, rare as my corpse whispering. Shouldn’t come as a surprise after we know what we know about the elves, but still. She can leave her body almost on a whim, although it takes time to master… - Emmrich continued explaining elf’s gift to the asassin while leaving the room, ready to tell the news to Ritha once he finds her too.

Meanwhile

Istheria giggled when she heard two men leaving. Her fingers once again went through the spirit’s hair. Despite being not material she felt the texture and the softness.

- See? They left. Didn’t tell me a thing about getting back right now. Not like Emmrich has any magic to do so – she laughed quietly.

- They. Can’t. Make you go back? Leave me? – Spite asked.

- Aye. And even if they did, I’d find a way to resist. I know more tricks than Emmrich thinks. Now calm down, I’m still here – she pulled him closer. It was still a bit surreal to her, but it worked miracles on the demon. They'd stay in silence for hours or talk about their lives. Istheria's inclusion in the War of the Banner, Spite being the shadow of his former self. Topics were almost endless. Especially when it came to what Spite actually knows about brewing coffee and the Crows.

It should feel weird to her, the demon was an exact Lucanis’ copy and him and Ritha were a couple already, but she could feel Spite being different and therefore treated him as a whole different person? The looks? Well, outside of her body she didn’t focus too much on that, instead of that she focused on the ethereal parts, everything that spirits are known for. Of course, the almost-physical aspect of the cuddles remained, but aside from that they'd both oftentimes close their eyes and feel each other's energy, share their feelings through that link they've established.

He suffered from being brought into this world. He should have stayed in the Fade. But Zara wanted a new pet. Best Istheria could do was to soothe his suffering and simply be there. Even if it meant a little carelesness. Ever since she found out she could use her abilities to help Spite and make him feel things from the physical world she was all for it.

It was only a hurt spirit in need of much deserved cuddles.

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Never Let You Go Yandere! Soap x Female Reader Chapter One

Summary- MW III Au. In Which Soap survives though is injured and has to spend time recovering in the med bay, it is there that he meets you. A young, bright eyed nurse who spends the next few months helping him recover. And as you do so Soap soon finds himself fixating on you, that fixation soon turns to an obsession as Soap soon realizes that he wants nothing more than for you to be his.

And vows that he will not stop until you are his. You, however, have no idea that something is wrong until people around you start disappearing and you begin to feel like your being watched. But don't worry, Y/N Soap won't let anyone hurt you. You belong to him, and he's going do everything in his power to make you realize that...

Authors Notes- Here I am back again with yet another Yandere Cod fic. This time featuring Soap. Who in this fic is a wee bit unhinged. And as you can gather by now I like to mention any and all trigger warnings in the AN. So this chapter is gonna be kinda mellow it'll only feature some stalking and obsessive thoughts.

If none of this is your cuppa tea then this is where we part ways. But I'll remember our time fondly. Now that we got THAT out of the way here is the first Chapter to Never Let You Go. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One.

It had been months. Months since Price and the rest of the 141 dragged his lifeless body from that tunnel after Makarov had shot him. But somehow, someway Soap had survived. Though he was far from out of the woods as the moment, and now he was here stuck in this medical facility, and was slowly on the mend. Emphasis on slowly. But it wasn't all bad Soap thought, Price along with Gaz and Ghost all made regular visits to see him and catch him up on things. Mainly what they've been doing while he was down an out. Sadly, it seemed while he was here Makarov was still on the loose.

That seemed to sour his mood on more than one occasion. No matter, Soap thought as he lay back down when visiting hours were over and the rest of the 141 had left to return to their own quarters, all except for Price who Soap knew would spend the night burning the midnight oil in his office. No doubt going over reports and other such things hoping to pin down Makarov's location and put a stop to him once and for all. Though Soap would be lying if he said he didn't want to be the one to put him down. Soap owed him that much. But alas just his luck he wasn't ready to leave. Yet.

And honestly? Soap thought, as he peered out the window of the room he was staying in to look out at the lone nurse scribbling something in her clipboard, a look of concentration etched on her features. Having you around made everything so much more bearable. You, the young nurse, who was still rather wet behind the ears had been his constant companion during his stay. Making sure he was feeling all right, helping him with the blinding headaches he often had to everything else that was expected of you in your job.

And sure, a small part of Soap knew that you were just doing your job. But he couldn't help but think that maybe just maybe you fancied him, and if you did well the feeling was mutual. As Soap found himself growing rather attached to you. You made him feel....

Soap chewed on his bottom lip, trying to find the right words to put to these feelings when it came to you, he knew he liked you perhaps more than he liked anyone. You had treated him with nothing but kindness even when he wasn't at his best because of his injury. When he would find himself not in control of himself, and ended up spewing some of the most vile stuff he could think with on control.

Only to realize soon after what had happened, leaving him mortified. And while most people would have left you stood by his side, a sweet smile on your lips as he told him it was nothing, that it wasn't his fault as you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. And he felt your warmth washing over him at your touch. How could someone like you be so patient? So kind? Just watching you made his heart flutter as he recalled the times when you would come in on your breaks to sit beside him. A novel in hand, which was soon forgotten as the two of you chatted. You telling him everything and anything that not only interested you and what happened in your life, while trying to keep him up to date on what was going on outside his room.

His heart fluttering as you laughed at his jokes, as you pay attention to his needs. Now he was grateful for the rest of the 141 coming to him once in a while but you brough him comfort. Feeling his gaze on you, you look up from the clipboard you were writing on to meet his gaze, a look of concern on your face as you put the clipboard down and step into his room.

"Are you all right?" You asked, moving to his side.

Soap merely chuckled. "Sorry, bonnie. Just lost in thought is all." He told you, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

You smiled down at him. "What are you thinking about?" You asked.

"I was just wondering what was going to happen to me if...when I'm able to leave this place." He told you.

And that brought another worry to his mind, what was going to happen to him if he recovered enough. Would he still be apart of the Taskforce? Or would be been forced to leave? And if so what would he do if he couldn't see you again?

No!

Soap shoved those thoughts from his head as he looked to you. Noting you looking tense, before relaxing that same sweet smile on your lips as you move closer. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure with time and a little more patience you'll be back in the field kicking ass and taking names." You told him.

Soap had to smirk at that. Taking a moment to look you over, taking in the nurses outfit you and everyone else here had to wear, but on you it looked absolutely perfect. And Soap wasn't going to lie he often wondered what you wore under it, often entertained the idea of sliding his hand up your thigh to push the skirt up to see what type of underwear you wore, if you wore underwear. But had more than once stopped himself, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

"Tell you what." Soap said, resting his head on his pillow, exhaustion slowly creeping up on him. "How about when I get out of here I take you out from drinks as thanks for all your help. That sound good?" He asked.

At that you worried at your bottom lip again. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm just doing my job." You assure him.

"And what a wonderful job you've been doing." Soap said.

You flush at his words. "Thank you."

"But surely it won't hurt to go out once in a while for drinks. I mean I love how dedicated you are to work but life's short. Trust I should know mine was almost cut short so why not?" Soap insisted.

You were quiet for a moment. "Maybe, perhaps we'll see you still have a long ways."

"I'll hold you to it." Soap said, as his eyes drifted shut as sleep soon took him, the last thing he remembered was you pulling the covers over him and whispering goodnight to him.

Months Later.

Months had pass and by a miracle Soap had recovered, and soon was allowed to leave the medical wing. And in all that time Soap was constantly haunted by thoughts of you long after you had gone.

In his defense he tried to forget about you, tried to move on, even Ghost, Gaz, and Price had told him the same when he would ramble on and on about you. Ghost telling him to leave you alone, Price agreeing with him. But Soap only scoffed, easier said than done. He often found him spending his free time lurking around the medical wing watching you. That was how he had found out about your plans with several other medical staff and soldiers, and now he was lurking in the shadows of the pub, watching you. Anger swelling as he watched as one of the male soldiers pulled you to his chest.

And rather than pull away you let out a laugh, sure, he knew your were rather drunk but still seeing you against him send waves of anger through his body. It took all he had not to rush towards you and pull you away from him. But he stopped himself, a new thought forming in his messed up mind. He knew his little obsession with you clearly wasn't going anywhere, and why should it?

Whenever he was with you he felt like his old self, and to see you with someone aside from from him made him see red. Soap leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, hands clenched leaving crescent shaped marks on his biceps as he watched you laugh and joke around, batting your eyes at several other men you were with. And as he watched this Soap felt a headache begin to form, pushing himself off the wall he stepped out of the pub and out into the cool night air.

Taking a deep breath he looked up at the night sky. He wouldn't give up he would have you, he wouldn't rest until he had you. Walking away he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He would let you enjoy your freedom...for now...

Authors Notes- And thus concludes Chapter one of my newest CoD Yandere fic. I hope you enjoyed it. Safe to Soap is a little bit unhinged. But it should make things fun, right?