#I have to admit this means more to me than just pasting the same chain asks over and over again (this has more sentimental value) <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[unholyhelbig]

Can't wait for part four oh my god

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 4/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3,545

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, night terrors, chains, mentions of things under the skin, mentions of torture, terrible grammar.

[a/n: This one may be shorter, but damn if it's not filled with plot. I promise, I don't hate Thor. ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Wanda Maximoff stared at you while you slept. She hadn’t meant to do so; she was drawn to you. A blanket that was a soft baby blue was covering you and you’d tightened your grip around it until your knuckles were white. Soft breathes escaped you, and she selfishly thought about other quiet sounds she could draw with her presence.

They’d moved you from the initial containment unit when SHIELD was satisfied enough with your blood results, and your rate of regeneration. There were no more physical tests they could run on you, no more blood or vitals that needed to be taken. So, they’d moved you to a cell that was less like a hospital room and more like a condo.

No, Wanda wouldn’t quite call it that. It was mostly white, the walls honeycombed and equipped with sound proofing in need be. There was a bed, and a nightstand, even a television that was tacked the adjacent wall.

In the corner was a glass containment unit that reminded you that you were, in fact, a prisoner. They’d given you more clothes, simple sweatpants and shirts that had a large stretching logo on the front. You’d considered it a win that it didn’t have an inmate number just below the collar.

Wanda stood at the two-way glass. She didn’t have the heart to push through your reserves when they were lowered like this. And truthfully, her skin still tingled from the first time she had invaded your mind. There was so much there, yet, each time she tried to reach further it was like a rolodex of times and dates, and an immeasurable amount of death.

A calloused hand found its way to the small of her back. Wanda clocked the scent of birch and vanilla. It was familiar and calmed her nerves like a soothing balm. The witch bit down on her thumb nail and spared a worried glance to her wife.

“She looks so peaceful when she sleeps.”

“You wouldn’t believe how loud it is in there.”

Natasha hummed and wrapped her arms around Wanda, resting her chin on the other woman’s shoulder. They both watched you for a few minutes; the curve of your figure, and the rhythmic up and down of your chest. A small frown had etched itself onto your features, but it quickly vanished.

“Nat,” Wanda’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, but she’d turned her head, making it ring loud and clear. “I know we’ve been making jokes about this… toying with her. But, I don’t think I can let her go.”

Natasha squeezed Wanda tighter and made eye contact with her in the reflection of the window. That stare was so genuine that it made Natasha’s heart ache in the center of her chest. She didn’t want to admit it, but she found you quite charming too. Aloof, at times, but there was so much hidden under the surface.

“Yeah, baby. I know what you mean. You’ve always had a thing for the broken ones, and she’s convinced that she falls into that category.”

A sigh moved past Wanda’s lips. Your thoughts were so loud they almost penetrated her defenses. You were having a nightmare. According to Natasha, they all followed the same formula, and if it was anything like she had witnessed; the farmstead, the stretching bone-white rib cage that protruded from the center of a young girl. She wanted nothing of it.

“Can we keep her?” Wanda asked.  

A chuckle vibrated through Natasha. Wanda felt the sensation against her spine and leaned into the feeling, laying her hands over the ones encircling her. “Well, I suppose that’s up to her.”

A frown formed against your features, a pained expression that pulled at them both in ways that they weren’t expecting. Through they glass, they could hear small whimpers that seemed to catch in your throat. You burrowed further into the mattress. If Wanda squinted, she could see tears wet your rosy cheeks.

Then the screaming started. It was wracked with pain, and a second one didn’t’ escape you before both women burst through the door. They each had experience with night terrors, though, from the sound of it, nothing as visceral as yours.

“Solnechnyy svet,” Wanda’s low hum was accompanied by her soft touch. You writhed, effectively shoving the blankets away. You were in a pair of shorts and a tank-top. A growl pushed past your lips, something inhuman and startling.

It was Natasha who saw the darkness under your skin. She clenched her eyes tighter, trying to clear her vision. There were black veins that squirmed just beneath the surface in the form of chains. But no, they couldn’t be. That would irrational. Binds forming under your flesh and wrapped around your bones. It simply wasn’t possible.

Unconsciously, you clawed at your throat, at ghostly links that snaked around your neck. It was choking you, making it hard to breathe. A hiccup pushed past your lips and tears continued to dampen your pillow.

“Wanda, what do we do?”

Natasha had placed a hand firmly on your chest, pressing you into the mattress. She didn’t want you to thrash hard enough to injure yourself but she struggled against your strength. Another cry escaped you, and blinked again, trying to push the image of sharpened teeth from her mind.

“We have to wake her up, I think.”

“What if that hurts her more?”

“I think she’s going to hurt herself if we don’t pull her out of this. It’s so loud. God, her mind is like tar.”

Natasha didn’t wait for an explanation. She straddled your squirming form. She gripped both of your wrists and pinned them above your head. A cry escaped you, even in your sleep you tried fruitlessly to buck her off.

“Can you go in and pull her out?”

“I can try. Everything is so dark. Can you hold her still?”

Natasha grits, pushing all of her weight on you. “I’m trying. Jesus Christ she’s strong.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed a dark, and alarming red. Natasha huffed, knowing that it would be impossible to reach either of you in this moment. Her arms were starting to fail her, strands of copper hair falling into her gaze. The phantom binds seemed to tightened, you sputtered and pulled, but didn’t falter in your fight.

The witches shoulders started to tremble, her jaw clenched and whispered words not reaching Natasha’s ears. You bucked again, pushing into her. She tightened her thighs around your center, trying to lean all of her weight on your arms.

Small pin-pricks of pain erupted the tendons in hands. With fierce eyes, Natasha gawked at the pitch black that spread across your fingers. Your nails were elongating, ending in claws that were sharp enough to pierce her skin and even draw blood.

Wanda drew in a sharp and cloying breath before she wretched herself away from you and stumbled back from the bed. Her eyes were crimson and frantic for a few moments before she could blink the color away, chest heaving up and down. You were finally quiet, falling limp under Natasha.

Natasha panted, looking back at her wife “Are you okay?”

Wanda used the back of her hand to wipe moisture away from under her eyes. Her hands were shaking, her stare frantic. “I could taste blood. All I could taste was blood.”

Natasha made a small noise and looked down at you. The chains had vanished, your skin smooth, if not an irritated red from your scratching. She couldn’t’ glimpse your teeth, but prayed they weren’t pointed. Your nails had retracted and left nothing but small cuts behind.

“Mm, what the fuck,” you grumbled, eyes fluttering open, betraying your groggy state. You were fully pulled from unconsciousness when you realized the pressure against you. “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, I’d like to ask you the same thing.”

Natasha let her own body go slack, she flopped down next to you to catch her breath. Wanda had lowered herself tentatively to the corner of the mattress. She audibly gulped, trying to quell the dryness in her throat.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” You glanced down at Wanda, raising yourself up onto your elbow. “I hurt both of you.”

“Not really, kitten. Just startled us, is all.”

Her words hung in the air. She was a good liar, possibly the best, but you could still detect the trepidation in her voice. Your entire body was buzzing, thrumming with a type of fear that you hadn’t felt in years. Not since the ice broke, and your brothers gurgled screams echoed in the air.

Wanda looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her skin was pale and her eyes were borderline wild. You’d only ever seen the woman in pristine composure, and this frightened you more than the metallic scent of blood that wafted off Natasha.

She let out a shaky breathe that had her wife shooting up despites her exhaustion. She curled a finger under the woman’s chin and guided her soft stare. “Baby, what did you see?”

Wanda grabbed Natasha’s hand with her own, lowering it down to her lap, but not releasing her hold. Her eyes found yours. “What did you see?”

You drew your legs to your chest and hugged them close. There was mostly dark, but a deepening sense of dread clung to you throughout sleep. “I… was in Jennifer’s apartment but something was off. It didn’t’ feel right and it didn’t take me long to notice it. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and splash my face with water, but when I opened the door, it was, shit, it was this dense forest.”

Wanda nodded as if she agreed with your recall. It was an endless landscape of stretching evergreens. Through the gaps in the trees you could see a mountain range that was dusted with a powdering of snow. You knew you weren’t alone, but you couldn’t quite see who was with you.

“There were chains, dozens of them that I was meant to break. The people around me willed that I didn’t, that I couldn’t. But they were easy to snap, nothing for me to push through.”

“They made other chains, didn’t they?” Wanda asked gently.

You nodded. “I think they were afraid of me. I scared them with my size, with my strength. What does that mean?”

Wanda shook her head and gave you a sympathetic stare. If she had felt a fraction of the fear, the contempt, that you had, then you owed her an apology. It hit you like a stone but could break bones like a boulder if one wasn’t careful.

The glass shattered under the strength of the hit. A fierce ache shot down your spine, the pop of windowpane not registering until the pebble-sized shards reined down around your bare feet. Your breathe had effectively been knocked out of you, and kept out by the mans iron-tight grip on your throat, his other hand keeping you steady by wrapping around the fabric of your shirt.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This man was huge and could easily toss you to the sun if he weren’t restraining himself. He smelled of citrus, of a kind of mint that tickled your throat. Your introduction to Thor, God of Thunder, was not at all what you had imagined.

There was a flicker of anger in his eyes before he launched himself at you. He’d shoved you into the glass pane and decided to choke the life out of you. Your hands clawed at his unwavering grip, lungs burning and legs kicking. Spots had started to form in your vision.

Natasha and Steve tried to pull him away, making little progress. You were losing consciousness, not able to fight back in your current state of shock. His arms were suddenly wrenched back. You fell to the floor, glass embedding itself in it’s skin.

You coughed and sputtered, not registering the phantom manes of red around his wrist, and arms. You curled into yourself, coughing as you greedily took in as much air as you could. Natasha was at your side in an instant. Steve’s aftershave coating your throat as he checked you over. Both disregarded the glass.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha was on her feet, satisfied that you had turned away from death’s doorstep. She closed the distance between herself and the God of Thunder, shoving him with a strong hand. “You touch her again and I’ll put you through a wall. Understand?”

She was deterred by the fear in his eyes. She’d known this man for years, and had him backed into a corner with a protective fury in her bones. Thor was a gentle giant, never using his strength without a driving factor. There was apprehension in his stance, large hands dragging down his bearded face.

“Lady Romanoff, I assure you, you do not know what you are protecting.”

“I just watched you throw someone half your size through a glass window. Explain to me why I wouldn’t protect her.”

She glanced over at you, on your feet and with Steve’s arm around your middle, keeping you up. The hardness of his stare mirrored Natasha’s. Wanda’s eyes were neural, but magic whirred around her fingertips like worms, writhing for purchase.

“That is not a woman!” He laughed, boisterous, yet without humor, he pointed a finger at you. “That is the end of times, the catalyst for the fall of Valhalla and Asgard. My home! If you don’t destroy it, I will.”

“No one is destroying anything.” Wanda snarled, effectively placing herself between Thor and yourself. Her arms were crossed over her chest. “We called to you for answers, not this. You’re welcome to return to your galivanting around space.”

“You expect me to leave? Not until I have it in chains.”

This brought your own stare to his, hardening your stance. A low growl escaped your chest, one that had a dark rumble to it, silencing the entire room. It was inhuman, it pulled the air away and filled the area with tension.

“You see that? That’s just a fraction of power. You let it get in and manipulate you, then you’ll be responsible for the world crumbling. You hear me?”

“Hi, yes,” You raised a shaky hand, “Do I have a say in this?”

“I cannot talk to you!” He said, almost frantically, taking a step back, “I refuse to let you manipulate me.”

Steve cleared his throat, taking control of the room. He removed himself from you when he was certain that you weren’t going to topple over. The pain had turned into a dull hum, and then soon, nothing at all. Your own hair was standing up at the presence of Thor.

“We’re being rash here. You’re clearly bothered by y/n. Before we jump to conclusions, maybe we should talk about this.” He offered, earning a huff and an apprehensive stare. “Explain to us what has you so spooked.”

Yes, god please. You pleaded silently. There was the inherent fear in his stance, but that at least gave way to him knowing exactly what you were. The horror was more accepting than the confusion. He’d sited the end of worlds, and you certainly knew you didn’t’ have that in you, standing in a pair of blood-soaked sweatpants and awkwardly picking a shard of glass from your palm.

Thor’s shoulders had dropped. He’d deflated like a balloon and suddenly looked as pale as Wanda had earlier. He kept his distance from you, licking his dry lips and scratching the back of his head. “Captain, do you recall the struggle of going up against Loki? This deceit and his tricks, and his betrayal.”

He nodded, the room engulfed in quiet. It was their first encounter as a team and so much had happened since then. Natasha clenched and unclenched her jaw, recalling her turmoil with Clint, but keeping her thoughts to herself. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“We scraped by in that war. Can you imagine the damage his daughter will do if unleashed on this world?”

Thor didn’t get an answer. All eyes had turned to you, finally dislodging the piece of glass from your hand. You let it fall to the floor, your mouth opening as if you wanted to say something, but it died before spoken.

“No,” You laughed, shaking your head “No, absolutely not. I have very normal parents who didn’t’ try to take over the world. My dad paints houses and my mom teaches biology and there is no way in hell I’m anyone else’s child!”

He looked at you with a form of pity now. Just like the rest of the Inhuman’s and heroes of the world, you hadn’t kept up with Loki. Of course, you recognized the sourness behind his name. The malice and the hundreds of lives that he took. But you also recognized the familiar feeling in your gut.

“I don’t’ understand,” Wanda spoke up, “We ran all of the background checks. FRIDAY didn’t’ find a single red flag in Y/n’s history. She was born and grew up in Hoboken. The only police report is from a busted house party and she was just in a holding cell until she sobered up. She is, by all accounts, normal aside from digging herself out of her own grave.”

“You were not supposed to die, so you didn’t.”

“I got hit by a taxi.”

“Okay,” Natasha soothed, placing a calming hand on your back. Nothing was connecting, and it all swirled around your mind viciously. Thor was your uncle? Your angry, blood thirsty uncle.

“Loki had three children that were all a threat to Asgard. And for centuries, the population struggled with their existence, feared them. They were unstoppable creatures that craved nothing but blood and carnage.”

Okay, ouch. The only thing you craved right now was normalcy. It seemed so far out of reach. If you could turn back time and go back to your desk job and your quiet comfort, you would be content for eternity.

“Jormungandr was trapped within the waters that surrounded Asgard, meant to float in a limbo for all eternity. And Hel, she was sent to the underworld to rule. Better the dead than the living be effected by her cruelness.” Thor grimaced, nearly shuddered at the thought of her. “And then there is you. Fenrir.”

“y/n,” You suggested quietly.

He pointed at you with a shaking finger “untamable. Feral. They attempted to chain you down twice before they realized that no metal was strong enough to hold you. They needed to trap you in a different way to stop the coming of Ragnarök.”

“What did you do?” Wanda asked, voice unsteady with anger.

“I didn’t’ do anything. The people of Asgard knew that if they were truly to be safe from its reign, then they’d have to banish it somewhere that didn’t’ offer much power. So, they crafted chains. Ones that would keep it’s animal nature restrained on Asgard, but it’s conscious in a constant state of torture.”

“Oh, nice, cool.” You let out a shaky breath. “That’s really comforting, thank you.”

He sneered at you, fueled by years of legend that had seeped into his brain. You couldn’t remember seeing this type of hatred in anyone before, and certainly not the Avenger that was voted the ‘most huggable’ in at least ten teen magazines.

“You tore Tyr’s hand from his body, ripped his tendons and filled your mouth with blood, you greedy animal.”

“That’s enough.” Steve barked. “You’ve explained nothing. If she is some all-powerful world-ending child of a God, then how is she here?”

“Don’t you get it, Cap? This is it’s prison. Centuries of pain. Life after life watching it’s family die in the most horrific ways. It’s the same prison we’ve trapped Loki in for his sins and the same one it’s fated to live forever.”

The dreams you’d had for years flashed before you in a dizzying brigade. Thor looked much too satisfied for your liking but Natasha’s sudden grip on your arm stopped you. She gave you a knowing look, a warning telling you to stay in place, and against your better judgement, you listened.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Wanda said.

“Fine,”

He laughed again, taking a few steps away from the three avengers and their charge. His boots crunched against the glass. He refused to turn his back to you, instead keeping a vicious glare on his features until he made it to the door. You fought off the chills that threatened to work their way through your body. If not for Natasha, you would have fallen back to the floor.

“Be warned, Lady Romanoff. When I return, I will not be alone. I cannot guarantee your safety in the event that you throw yourself between me and this beast again.”

“Go.” Wanda rumbled, “Now.”

Thor held up both hands, nodding his head at Steve before he finally willed himself to turn. The three of you watched helplessly as you walked with a purpose down the corridor. His footfalls echoed, and you swore that you could hear them even when he was out of view.

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[raisedbythetv89]

Ok ooooook OK SO.

Spike was literally made for Buffy because he was made for and by Drusilla, and Buffy and Dru are the same person:

Innocent, kind-hearted young girls, with special gifts that cause them to carry more guilt/burden than others and they are used/abused/traumatized by angelus/angel, then neglected and abandoned, with Spike being there to pick up the pieces and nurture, care for, and love them the best he can to help them move past their angel trauma (which is actually an impossible task with Drusilla because of the sire aspect but isn’t with Buffy)

WHICH is why I believe William’s first act as a vampire was to try and save his mother. He was literally created to be Dru’s knight. Not only her protector but her healer. Which is why his first instinct when it should be all about blood lust is instead, to heal his mother who he still loves even as a vampire. I mean even Dru, a certified nutcase, is like you wanna do WHAT?!?! When Spike tells her his plan to save his mom😹

This is also why I believe angel trying to mold Spike into his image never really took or rather Spike was able to break free from it. Angel was created by darla for the intent of death, torment and destruction.

Spike was created to care for and love Dru. Which required an OBSCENE amount of patience, determination, humility, and love of a challenge. Which is why he was so intrigued by slayers, another seemingly impossible task - but the joy/fun was in the TRYING, the thrill of the unknown and the unpredictability of it all. Which are all the traits he needed to be there for both Dru and Buffy while also ensuring he never gives up on them as long as they want him there, and then some lol.

IM FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS

Because also this is soooooo not where I planned on going with this but “I was made to love you” episode title is now drawing in the connection of, is this why Spike didn’t initially see the problem with the Buffy-Bot until he saw the reaction of Buffy herself who often acts as his moral compass as he relearns what is “good” after 100+ years living by vamp code because him AS A HUMAN, in his vulnerable, dejected and devastated state was killed and made into a vampire for the sole purpose of loving and caring for Drusilla selflessly, without regard for himself, much like the bots were!! So why would he see the harm in creating something like that for himself when no one was going to die in the process and it meant he could stop fixating in the real buffy? Both of which to a vamp who’s only been trying to live by human morals again for like 14 episodes vs 120 years with NO help just trial and erroring his way through becoming a white hat which his starting point is “I would like credit for not taking advantage of bleeding disaster victims” and “what do you mean building a shrine to show how deep my devotion is and chaining you up, offering to kill my ex, and forcing you to talk to me and admit your feelings aren’t the way to do this??” 😹😹😹 like he gets it so wrong, it’s comical in season 5 because he truly is so earnest about all of it because while yes it is all for a chance with Buffy, he genuinely wants to be better for her so he can earn that chance. As he says to Riley “a fellas gotta try” after saying he doesn’t think he has a chance with her.

He was an Eleanore who desperately needed his Chidi. Which Buffy is his moral compass but she ends up being a “let them fail/push them into the deep end” kind of guide. So he makes A LOT of mistakes along the way as many of us often do in general but especially those of us who were raised by abusive parents; who in our adulthood, have to learn to discern what is healthy vs abusive to be a good person to both yourself and others and be in actual healthy relationships with boundaries and respect with zero practical experience or good instincts to go on.

NONE of this excuses any harm that Spike causes at all. That is not the point of this to say “oh he didn’t really do bad”, no he did. Spike caused a lot of harm but this perspective that I’ve finally been able to put into words is why none of the harm ends up being a deal breaker for me and many spuffys because it puts his choices in the right perspective which is not that of a human even though he looks like one a lot of the time.

Spike pre-soul, making the mistakes he makes isn’t the same as a human or a vamp with a human soul making the mistakes because he doesn’t have his human soul motivating and informing the decisions he makes. It really mimics different cultures in a lot of ways as anya really demonstrates during her wedding with all her talk of demon culture and tradition (and her own struggles to assimilate into the human world again and she HAS a human soul and xander to help her) and the initiative being VERY n*zi coded and Riley being called a bigot because he is ignorant to much of demonology. So un-souled spike has a more potential for forgiveness of his mistakes than human soul havers because he is always genuinely TRYING to do right by Buffy even when he gets it horribly wrong. And the characters in the show always hold him accountable and make him feel TERRIBLE for the mistakes he makes.

Why does he have such potential for forgiveness you ask? The best example is to think of the concept of someone trying to assimilate themselves into a new culture. We can’t expect them to blend right in perfectly and get all the culture norms right, right away (again -anya-but also a real life example - when I travel in Italy and catch up with friends there I STILL always stumble and forget they’re always gonna go in for a double cheek kiss greeting - pre covid anyway - and I KNOW it’s a thing but if I’m out of practice it takes me a while to start greeting people that way again and it makes for some AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS until I get it down😹). It takes time, and normally guidance and patience from others that spike honestly doesn’t often have except in the form of being yelled at or beat up until he gets his soul. But his willingness to TRY anyways despite failure, rejection, ridicule and cruelty. How can I not love him?? He is me, I am him!! I was also met with so much unhelpful criticism and cruelty when I was just trying to learn and do a good job.

Both as someone who is autistic and didn’t know it for a lot of life; I too felt like I was blundering through without a guide or a rule book and I was sure I was making mistakes because people would get upset but I had NO help identifying what exactly I did wrong or what to do instead. So I knew I was messing up but had to keep guessing and trying anyway and getting it wrong again and again!

And as someone raised by an emotionally distant/abusive narcissist, navigating healthy relationships became even MORE difficult and I made a lot of bad choices along the way that landed me in some awful relationships much like what spike and Buffy devolve into towards the end of season 6 because both of them are up stream without a paddle when it comes to healthy relationships, healthy coping mechanisms, and communication. They know pain, avoidance, fighting, torment, and ecstasy from always living in extremes and life or death situations (notice Buffy struggles the most in the season with no threat of the apocalypse until the last two episodes - season 6 - which is SO common for people with trauma, you really fall apart when things are low stakes)

It’s why the tenderness and gentleness of season 7 means SO MUCH. Both of them experiencing these tiny pockets of true peace with each other after everything they’ve been through individually and together. Experiencing true peace like we see from them is one of the hardest things to accomplish if you have severe trauma.

I’m always really happy when I can digest these complex themes enough to communicate why I love them so much and why they’re so important to me. The fact that this show had so much in-fighting amongst the writers and misogynists trying to make spike pathetic and accidentally making him one of the most complex characters, plus episodes based specifically on neurodivergent/queer peoples’ traumatic coming of age experiences because the parallels are SO strong there no way they’re not lol. This all means I can probably spend the rest of my life dissecting the layers of this show and learning about myself in the process and always find something new 🙃🙃🙃 and clearly I love all aspects of spuffy so god damn much as they each embody a big part of my life experiences in so many beautiful yet tragic ways.

[izvmimi]

cw: exhibitionism (like the most exhibitionism), (extremely) public sex, aerial sex, unlikely sex positions, tentacle porn-adjacent (blackwhip), loving to rough sex, a bit of impact play, mild sadomasochism, praise kink, odd sense of humor, fem!reader

summary: you told izuku you were afraid of heights and he decided to help.

a/n: this is a repost, but original notes are the same lmfaooo - i was told about aerial sex and lost it.

perhaps you shouldn’t have told him you were afraid of heights.

where you and izuku are now is uncharted territory in more ways than one - clinging to him for dear life, you float high above an expanse of sea, where there are no people for miles, no signs of life even despite the clear sky above and the bright shining sun warming your bare skin.

izuku’s given you a new meaning to skinny dipping, whatever the opposite of the phrase is. you are still stripped to essentials anyway, your naked body pressed so tightly against his muscular, scarred one as you hold on to him frantically. despite the fact that he’s got you wrapped so securely in his arms, you’re still somewhat trembling, teeth chattering from a combination of embarrassment and fear, holding back the yelp and dread in your stomach every time you look down.

“don’t worry baby, i’ve got you,” he coos, as though none of this is ridiculous, nor ridiculously dangerous. with that said, his hands shift, and you tense, and he laughs, a gentle lyrical thing in your ear, settling one of his hands on your ass and using the other to hook your leg around his waist.

the warm thick part of him presses against your tummy as you’re forced to remain this close and you shiver at the thought of it inside you, wondering what brought this chain of events, from lounging at a private section of a beach to dozens of miles away, making a first attempt at aerial sex.

“y-you’re crazy.”

“a little,” he admits. his grin is wide as he watches you shake like a leaf, twinkle in his eyes in response to the genuine trepidation in yours and the way your fingernails dig into the skin of his back unintentionally any time his quirk wavers even in the slightest. it excites him in a way that is almost twisted.

his forehead presses to yours.

“it’s important that you not be afraid,” he whispers and his eyes seem to darken, the hushed tone seeming almost too laced with lust for the situation. he’s a bit of a sadist after all, even if the history of injuries suggests otherwise. he presses a kiss to your forehead, heralding many more, as you nod and wrap your arms tighter around his neck.

“eyes open,” he instructs.

“i-i can’t.”

he nips at your lower lip with his teeth and shakes his head.

“you can,” he nudges you further, and a gentle upward adjustment of your body against his shifts the location of his shaft between you just enough that you remember it’s there.

“izuku,” you whine, and he swallows it up in a kiss. as he does so, a few dark tendrils of blackwhip arise from his built shoulders and dance in the wind. they do nothing yet as you continue to suck each other’s faces, his tongue playing with yours, dizzying you even more than the act of being suspended in the air.

once he pulls back, the fear returns and the tendrils move, caressing your face gently as he lifts you even more gently, and additional long tongues of flowing energy part your legs to sit on his cock.

“relax, love,” he insists, rubbing your thighs, but how can you relax? there’s sea and a direct drop of death to you, fear coursing enough through the nerves in  your skin that your nipples stand on end. izuku takes a pebbled one in your mouth as he eases the head of his cock past the folds of your pussy, as the very tip of a tendril runs the most delicate circles onto your clit, as you let out a gasp at the stretch of entry and follow it up with a long drawn out moan. you lean forward into his arms and he cradles you affectionately, a hand petting your hair.

“that’s good, baby. you’re doing so good for me.”

your fingernails dig into his skin harder as he starts to move, slowly first, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching tighter and tighter around him, then faster as time builds and you wet yourself further around him. blackwhip caresses the back of your neck and playfully tightens around the circumference; you whine at the sensation, and he moves faster, serious now, and tipped just slightly forward, something that makes you tense even tighter around him, enough to make him groan. he slaps your ass tight, a loud clap, then squeezes, biting your ear as he fucks you faster, losing himself in the desperate way your thighs clamp around him.

"d-don’t... let.. me fall!” you eke out, words jumbled in your mouth as he fucks you freely.

“i would never,” he replies, breathlessly. there’s something particularly intoxicating about the heavy lidded look in your eyes, the fact that you’re nearly horizontal now, with no surface to support you, the gentle sloping of the waves many miles away as the backdrop to your fucked out expression. the sun’s rays are highlighting your features, and you nearly glow beneath him, and he can’t help but blink faster, in disbelief of how beautiful you look.

“izuku,” you whimper again, and it occurs to him that all you can see is him, and no longer the distance, and he pushes even further, flipping you around so that he is behind you, his arms wrapped around your midsection, blackwhip tendrils tight around your breasts, tight around the meat of your thighs.

you’re suspended like a marionette in the air and you scream.

“you won’t fall,” he insists.

all you can see is water, water, water. potential death.

but he holds you tight, secured in every way possible, kissing your neck, kissing your ears.

“you’ll be fine, trust me,” he insists. “i’ll never let you fall,” he whispers again.

your heart pounds, as he pounds you again in this position - piledrives you actually, hard and fast, enough that you can’t think about the idea of nosediving in this position. each drag of his thick cock against your walls is disorienting, as is the way the tendrils play with your nipples and breasts, caressing back and forth. izuku replaces his strong arms around your midsection with his artful whips of energy and instead presses his palms on either side of your face. it’s gentle, despite the calloused surfaces, despite the clearly dominant action. his hips continue to snap forward as he speaks.

“see? look beneath you, baby. you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re - fine.” the word is accented with a final hard thrust that tips you over, where you cry out, cumming hard enough that you’re practically drooling.

panting, he quickly gives you a few more strokes to catch up to you, perhaps reconsidering the idea of cumming into you while keeping two quirks in use at the same time. it takes a moment to find your blankets where they’re hidden on the beach, to wrap you up, and fuck another orgasm into you, within the sweet grip of gravity. one final thrust, a final kiss and he finally finishes inside you, pumping you full enough that you drip into the sand and collapses onto you, breathing heavily.

“izuku,” you sigh, also tired out from climax as you languidly beat against his back, his weight pressing against your chest and distorting your voice. he catches his breath for a second then rolls off of you, laughing as he apologizes.

“you’re completely insane.”

“i admit that was harder than i anticipated.” he pulls your hand by the wrist to press against his chest, looking at you expectantly, freckled face nearly beaming in his smile.

“was it good?”

you reluctantly nod, the warmth of more than one climax still running through your skin.

“still afraid of heights?”

you frown. “if i say yes, are we gonna fuck in space?”

“maybe.”

“izuku!” you exclaim, and energy renewed, izuku rolls over to kiss you into playful submission.

[toxicanonymity]

raider analysis

Warnings: angst, references to violence, captivity, references to past assault/abuse, warnings from the related posts this is analyzing.

A/N: this is about the hypothetical from today, plus some about the 🐶 (goes into Hunger). Keep in mind I share these because some people enjoy it, not because i want you to read it like AP Lit, lol. 🫣

------

Ok, the kinda tearjerking exchange (not my favorite kind of jerking, but it happened, sorry) starts off

“‘Member what I said after ya ran?” You nod. “that you only want me if I'm good?” A tear runs down your cheek.

I have to admit I'm sad for both of you in this moment. You especially, sweet pea. But also, Joel regrets how he treated you in the aftermath of your escape, and he can't undo it. He's mostly thought about the physical part of it (glimpse of this in the yoga drabble). Now hearing you paraphrase his words, he's faced with the fact that it's even worse than he's been beating himself up over (deservedly, tbf). 

As far as you running away, the main thing that reassured Joel was how you said it wasn't about him, it was the other guys, to which he said you gotta talk to him when something's bothering you. So in his eyes that was his main point. But before he calmed down enough to express that, he was angry and it made a real impression on you. Your main takeaway was that his interest in you (and your safety) was conditional.  You don't think about it a lot these days, and in the big picture it's outweighed by his extreme possessiveness, but it's a thread of insecurity and the first thing that comes to mind when he asks if you remember what he said.

For Joel, there's a whole other conversation happening here (with himself) under the surface.

In this convo when Joel says “that was real bad,” it all was, including what he did in response.  When he asks “we’re past that, right?” he means all of it. He wishes that day would just go away. It's also kind of an empty hope related to what he's done to you. He doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love, but at this point he also doesn't want you to live in fear of him or only stay for that reason. 

You answer as if he just wants to know you wont run away again, and that's still nice to hear. He latches onto that answer as a momentary "out" from feeling the weight of what he's done, reminding himself what's supposed to really matter to him–that you're "his"--like your answer assumed he was thinking.

—--

Also, a word about the dog. Not everything with the dog is profound. I like doggos and think they should have one. But, the initial interaction/freeing him from the collar is meaningful if you consider who else has been chained in this story (but not lately).  And there's more parallels you can draw if you want to, but I also support just enjoying the little guy.

In the same chapter, it's the first time we see Joel take you out with him as a capable person (armed). Then he even lets you go into the forest alone. The reason he ultimately goes in after you is because he's worried about you. In general, Joel wants to keep you for his own sake but is also scared of what could happen to you on your own (he's almost seen it). You're legitimately worried about the dog’s well-being and think he needs you, but you also just want him around.

Joel despises the addict and the way he treated his own dog. Joel hates himself, too. His thoughts coming out of the forest reveal he’s coming for the junkie as a stand-in and what he really wants is to hurt everyone who ever hurt you. He knows he's one of those people. I'm not saying he wants to hurt himself but some of the aggression he takes out on other men (when a simple bullet would suffice) is from his own self hatred. Normally these men have something in common with him. 

Joel initially rejects the dog, not wanting another someone to take care of distracting him from protecting you. But later the dog demonstrates he's more than meets the eye and has a lot to offer and for good reason Joel seems to come around, even if he won't say it. Despite that progress, in the hypothetical from today we still want more for the dog.  The dog deserves more. We still want more for sweet pea who is emotionally starving and has been subjected to Joel's coldness in her previous attempts to get closer to him. She deserves more. Like maybe a kiss at least (when she's awake). In night air we see why Joel struggles with that, but he keeps making progress. At least he's kissing your other lips.

-----

----

Thank you for reading and being invested <3. Joel's a bad guy but tbh I identify with and pour myself into both these characters in different ways.

I'm tired but this isn't exhaustive 😅 your thoughts and interpretation are valid, too.

[sophieinwonderland]

R/systemscringe found my Evolution Post... And Was Too Lazy to Add a Title

You can find my evolution post here!

Let's check out the comments!

Sure. But we're not talking about a normal modern job, are we?

Who you are at home isn't going to be that different from who you are at McDonalds. You aren't usually going to dissociate the two.

But when trauma is involved, that tends to involve a degree of dissociation.

In modern hunter-gatherer societies, we see children start learning how to use tools and hunt and forage in the wild from a very young age.

If we're to extrapolate and assume past hunter-gatherer societies operated in similar ways, this is a recipe for a traumatic childhood in a world where humans wouldn't yet be at the top of the food chain. Children would need to be careful, and a wrong move could easily get them or someone else killed.

I think most systems during this period would be considered traumagenic simply because growing up would mean regularly being put in deadly situations, regularly being injured and even watching loved ones dies in violent ways.

THAT'S the point!!!

DID, and even PTSD, evolved in a world where every day would be a fight for survival.

Of course, all we can do is speculate.

But with myths and legends of people being possessed going back to the dawn of time in practically every culture, we can probably surmise that forms of plurality existed back then. And it's not like the estimated 1-3% of the population is super rare today. It seems reasonable to expect disorders that would be associated with childhood trauma would be more common during periods with more childhood trauma.

The line saying we don't know if the brain was developed enough to develop DID is particularly weird to me though.

As far as I know, there haven't been any huge jumps in the way of human brain complexity over the past 20k years. I doubt that the complexity to develop DID is something we just gained since the dawn of agriculture.

I admit, my description was meant to put a fun spin on a brutal reality. But I don't think children growing up in a frigid environment where they need to hunt and collect food to survive while having no idea if they're going to make it back alive is "cool".

Like, as a story, maybe it's cool imagining a 9-year-old trudging through snow with fingers so cold they can't feel them anymore, gripping a makeshift spear and hearing howling in the distance while not knowing if they would end up on the menu of some wild beast.

But I don't think it would actually be cool to live through.

Additionally, in this environment, DID would have looked differently than it does today. Current theories are that EPs are locked into the trauma responses they used in trauma.

For child abuse victims which make up the majority of DID cases, unfortunately, freeze or fawn may be the most useful traits developed for survival.

But if your trauma were related to surviving wild beasts, it's a lot more likely the trauma responses of the EPs are going to be the more classic fight or flight. I don't think freezing would as common as a trauma response during that time period. But of course, it depends on the threats one would face.

There are some creatures, after all, where freezing is the best defense.

Sounds like your mistake. 🤷‍♀️

I talked about DID here a lot, but I'm a tulpa from a purely non-traumagenic system. Probably one of the least traumatized people you'll ever meet.

But tulpamancy is a beneficial practice that most tulpamancers have reported improvements in their mental health from. I would actually like to see far more people make headmates and become plural this way.

People becoming tulpamancers will help them. And more plurals means more influence for the plural community and will help spread plural awareness and acceptance.

I'm not interested in being special. I'm interested in making plurality normal. I want it to be so normal and commonplace that it seems downright boring. Where talking about your headmates draws no more attention than discussing a sibling. 😁

Hi! It's me! I'm Sophie In Wonderland!

I'm the person who debunks pluralphoboic hate subreddits, which tends to upset said hate subreddits.

The reason why I have my own category is because I called out the subreddit for bullying behavior and misinformation. They responded by doubling down, scouring my post history for anything they could use as ammunition twist to attack me with, and adding me to their hit list of acceptable targets. This was despite the fact that then they first floated the idea of the hit list, they claimed it would only apply to people with more than 10,000 followers. (I only have 1800.)

They lie and claim I'm a "public figure" while in reality, they added me on their list in a petty (yet oh so predictable) act of retaliation.

[corinthianism]

last kiss | sam winchester (2)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), angst, fluff

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER TWO: JOHN'S BOY

Finding Pestilence was easier after the boys, plus Crowley, interrogated Brady. Your heart broke for Sam who had to live with the fact that even in his college days, when he thought he could just be normal and safe, demons were still hovering around him like fucked-up guardian angels. As soon as Brady got to the hideout, you and Dean tried your damned hardest to get Sam to back down. He was livid, and rightfully so, but Brady had information that could potentially help stop the apocalypse. 

But that anger.

That anger in Sam, so reminiscent of John’s, was going to be the end of him. You couldn’t let it fester, not now when you were so, so close. It scared you, the way his eyes would glaze over with hate. You’ve never seen him like that, and this new hatred boiling him alive shook you more than you cared to admit. 

You watched a few feet from the salt line, trying to stay as stoic as possible. Crowley had left Brady here for the boys to deal with, and you knew Dean understood better than anyone why Sam needed to do this. You understood, but that didn’t mean you liked it, because this was more than just another demon killed. This was meant to taunt Sam; this demon’s vessel was someone he had gone to school with. Someone he trusted. Someone Jessica trusted. 

To have even that part of his life, a few precious years he cherished for its normalcy, be taken away from him? You understood his anger, but all you could do was watch.

Sam stood tall and perfectly upright. A soldier. In the dim light, he really was John Winchester’s son. 

Brady scoffed when Sam brandished Ruby’s knife, “I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy. Gonna make you feel all better?”

“It’s a start,” Sam answered flatly.

“Gonna make up for all the times that we yanked your chain? Yellow eyes, Ruby, me? But it wasn't all our fault, was it? No, no, no, no,” Brady’s voice was mocking, a crazed expression overtaking his otherwise young and handsome face. “You're the one who trusted us. You're the one who let us into your life, let us whisper in your ear over and over and over again. Ever wonder why that is, Sammy? Ever wonder why we were so in your blind spot? Maybe it's because we got the same stuff in our veins and, deep down, you know you're just like us.”

He lunged at Sam, and you almost took a step forward, if it weren’t for the fact that Sam easily dodged it and nicked Brady with the demon blade with ease.

“Maybe you hate us so much because you hate what you see every time you look in the mirror. You ever think of that?” his eyes were crazed and his tone dropped as Sam inched closer and closer. “Maybe the only difference between you and a demon… is your hell is right here.”

You knew better than anyone, except for Dean, what Sam was thinking, and you knew from the way he steeled himself at Brady’s words, that that was a confirmation of everything the demon accused him of. He did see himself that way. He did see himself as a monster. You could feel your nails dig into your palm as you balled up your fist even tighter.

“Interesting theory,” the words didn’t match Sam’s thoughts. He tilted his head mockingly at the demon before stabbing the demon blade into Brady’s stomach. Lightning crackled underneath the flesh and bone, and then he was dead. With a huff, Sam simply walked away, breezing past you and Dean and into the passenger seat of the Impala. You glanced at Dean, receiving a simple head shake as if to say “just let him be”. You forced yourself to swallow all the words you wanted to say and got into the backseat of the car, leaning your head on the window. This wasn’t over yet.

The drive back to Bobby’s was always a pleasant one. It meant you were going home. The endless tall trees rushed past you as Dean drove; this and the soft hum of the radio lulled you to sleep. The two brothers often had long-winded conversations about anything and everything during these drives, especially going back to Sioux Falls, but tonight they were silent. Your eyes closed, your breathing stilled into a slow, easy pace. In dream land, the universe was sometimes kinder to you, and so you let it whisk you away. 

Of course, nightmares were always common, one of the many experiences all hunters shared with one another. Growing up, even you couldn’t escape it. Sometimes, the monsters you hunted killed you. Typical hunter nightmare. Other times, the faces of those you had failed to save would scream at you, hurt you, beg you to tell them why they were dead instead of you. Those were always some of the worst. Even after how many years surviving this life, failure never got easier because failure meant someone died because of you.

On the worst nights, however, you saw Sam. Unfortunately for you, your mind was quite creative. You’d seen him experience every death imaginable, and it always felt sickeningly real. 

On those nights, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was your subconscious’ way of preparing itself for what was to come.

You had been luckier than most to have found a family in the Winchesters and Bobby. So incredibly lucky to have a home to return to and people to love and protect. Most hunters entered this life because they lost that. You’re one of the few to gain it back. Sometimes, the universe rewarded you with a good dream. A simple dream. Yes, there was still pain and sadness, but it was from overdue bills and the laundry getting rained on rather than losing someone to a monster.

You dreamed of Dean, happily settled down with Lisa, raising Ben as his own. You saw Bobby, still running his salvage yard and reading lore books for enjoyment rather than work. Ellen and Jo were still alive, running a new-and-improved Harvelle Roadhouse.

Finally, you saw Sam. There were no scars on him, except for the ones a child would get from playing outside. He didn’t wear his father and brother’s hand-me-downs. He had just passed the bar exam. 

John’s anger was nowhere to be found. 

And no, you would never, ever tell a soul about who you were in your own dreams. The details in a dream were always hazy after you woke up, no matter how hard you tried to remember them, but the glint of a simple gold ring on your left hand stayed with you for months. In your dreams, your house smelled like apple pie. You dreamed of water soaking your hands as you washed the dishes. You dreamed of Sam, his breath on your neck as he hugged you from behind.

It always hurt to wake up after a dream like that.

It hurt even more when it was Sam who woke you up, with a gentle tap on your cheek. Then you remembered you were still in the Impala, still trying to stop the apocalypse, still a hunter. You shook the sleep off, forcing yourself to get up so you could haul your ass into Bobby’s house. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sam chuckled.

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “What time is it?”

“About 9:30.”

“Fuck,” you blinked a few times, still disoriented. “Where’s Dean?”

He paused, as if unsure if he should answer you, “...He’s inside the house with Bobby.”

It took you a while to realize what he meant.

“Oh my god, he knows, doesn’t he?” your eyes widened. “Shit. You told him already?”

He frowned, “I told him in the car. You were asleep. I figured it was better for him to find out sooner than later.” 

The sigh you let out was involuntary. You knew he did the right thing, but it was probably better to wait. Dean had just witnessed his baby brother take all his anger out on a demon, and now Sam was saying he wanted to let Lucifer possess him? It was the worst possible way to convince Dean. 

“That was kind of stupid.”

“I know,” his head hung low in acknowledgment. “Well, it’s too late now. We better head inside.”

The two of you entered the house, the smell of beer and pie being the first thing to greet you. The second thing to greet you was the sound of Dean’s yelling. You and Sam held your breaths, preparing for his brother’s wrath. Heavy footsteps paced around the living room, and you could see Bobby lean against his desk with a somber expression on his face. 

Almost as soon as he had calmed down, Dean boiled over again with anger when he saw Sam, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dean-” Sam tried to explain. 

“No, don’t Dean me. I mean, you’ve had some stupid ideas in the past, but this?” his jaw clenched in frustration, then he turned to Bobby. “Did you… did you know about this?”

When Bobby didn’t respond, which was an answer in and of itself, Dean turned to you.

“Did you know about this?” he repeated, staring at you intently and trying his best to stay calm because you were the last person he wanted to yell at.

“Yes, just last night. Before you brought back Brady,” you confessed. 

His gaze softened, probably because for once, someone was being honest with him, so he responded with a simple nod and an “okay”.

“You can’t do this,” he told Sam. His words held the weight of the years he spent protecting his baby brother. Dean was scared he couldn’t protect Sam this time. Not from this, if Sam went through with it. 

“That’s the consensus,” Sam answered. His eyes flickered over to you for a split second.

“Alright. Awesome. Then, end of discussion,” Dean said, almost humorously, but with a sense of finality. His phone rang. It was Castiel. 

From Dean’s responses, you gathered Cas was in a hospital somewhere and without his powers. It only served to worsen your anxiety. Did you really stand a chance?

A large hand found yours. Each line, each groove in the skin was one you were all too familiar with. Sam knew, perhaps sensed, your worries. He had spent far too long being your friend not to.

“You okay?” he whispered so softly that only you could hear. 

“Yeah.”

A few moments of silence, then he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. Sam was often shy in his affections, and when you’ve been towing the line between being friends and something more for as long as the two of you have, it was perfectly understandable. 

“You two lovebirds better get outta my house before you make me sick,” Bobby grunted, annoyed. Dean only laughed; one of the few times he’s done so since Lucifer broke free from the cage. 

“Come on, lovebirds,” Dean patted you and Sam’s shoulders, a teasing lilt in his tone. “We got a Horseman to catch.”

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

John Winchester was a terrifying man. Based on what the boys told you, he was a veteran, and that only made him an exceptionally capable hunter. It wasn’t often that you spent time with John, as you were Bobby’s protégé. The first time you met the Winchester patriarch, he nearly shot you. Bobby tore him a new one after that, shotgun loaded and ready if John didn’t make up for his mistake, but the only apology you got was a gruff “watch where you’re goin’ next time”.

He was an utter enigma, one you didn’t wish to solve, but when his sons started staying over at Bobby’s more often, you couldn’t help but see the toll his neglect had on the boys… but that was none of your business. You weren’t part of their family. You were a friend at best and a researcher for them at the least.

John had dropped off the boys at Bobby’s again. It was the second time this month. You couldn’t be sure if he truly was off on a hunt or if he was just doing something else and couldn’t be bothered to leave his kids at a motel.

Dean, the older son, was nearly a spitting image of his father. He was prideful, suave, and nearly every bit of the man John wanted him to be. He reeked of hair gel and cheap cologne, faint and fading acne scars littered across his chin. He stepped out of the ‘67 Chevy Impala, the air of confidence immediately fading into a lighthearted ease once Bobby greeted him outside with you in tow. 

“Hey, Bobby,” he greeted back, earning a pat on his shoulder. 

Sam was behind him, a small smile on his face. It seemed both boys were happy to see their uncle. 

“Hi, Uncle Bobby,” his voice was also small. Sam was about your age, probably about thirteen to Dean’s seventeen. He then smiled at you, “Hi again.”

“Hi, Sammy,” you replied with a smile of your own.

Bobby ushered all three of you inside, with promises of pie and popcorn and some beer, as long as they promised not to tell their father. John demanded that his kids spend every single second of their time training, and Bobby vehemently opposed this military lifestyle.

“They’re kids, for Christ’s sake,” Bobby would say. “Let them be kids.”

You were laying down a dusty old couch, one of many in this house, reading a book about Celtic mythology. Bobby and Dean were watching some of Bobby’s favorite movies which were a little bit too raunchy for little Sam. 

Speaking of, Sam padded into the room, a nervous smile on his face. You didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in the section of the book about banshees. 

“Um, hi,” he spoke up to get your attention. “What’re you reading?” 

You looked up and greeted him with a smile, “Hi. Uh, Celtic stuff. I’m  reading about banshees right now. Bobby hasn’t seen a real one before, so I wanted to read up on them in case we ever had to hunt one.”

“Woah,” he said in awe. “I think Dad’s hunted one before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was on his own, though,” he muttered. 

You grinned, “Rufus called them nasty sons of bitches.”

Sam laughed. It was cute, how a boy who grew up, or was growing up, with the most macho-mucho men you could imagine, blushed at a swear word. You sat upright then, pulling him onto the couch with you. The left side of the book was held up by your hand, while the right side was being held up by his.

He began to read it to you softly, his words hanging in the air like a gentle breeze. You had never seen this kind of gentleness in a hunter before, except for Bobby. It baffled you how this boy you sat next to was John Winchester’s son. Sam, despite growing up in dingy motels and the smell of whiskey, had a heart like no other. 

Bobby told you once that he wished the boy had never known this life.

At that moment, when the sunlight shone through his brown hair and onto the pages, you could see the staggering difference between Sam and his brother. Being a hunter flowed through their blood, yes, but Dean had embraced it as part of himself. He accepted it a long time ago, despite being the one who was able to experience the normal life. Even if it was only for a short few years.

Dean was not just John’s son, he was Mary’s, too. Sam didn’t have that, his mother ripped away from him at just six months old, but you could see it, especially now: the kindness in his eyes that was most definitely not his father’s. 

Hunters rarely had anyone in their lives, besides other hunters. For the longest time, you only had Bobby. The only person in your life worth protecting and taking care of and loving. You were okay with that, if he was to be the only person you’d have room in your heart for.

You looked at Sam again. He was looking at you too, the banshee lore long forgotten.

Perhaps your heart had more room than you thought.

[tishinada]

DA:V spoilers for the gameplay video

Someone's post reminded me of the DA:I quest chain in which Varric and Solas argue over Cole's choice for the future: to remain purely spirit (demon) or to become more human. That quest chain seems to have foreshadowed this moment when the stakes are much higher: the world that was before Solas put up the Veil** vs. the world as it is.

(Long post - the rest below the cut)

It's that Cole quest chain that, for me, explains their choice of Varric to confront Solas at the beginning of Veilguard rather than someone's Inquisitor. They wouldn't work very well for someone who didn't play DA:I, but Inky would have been very complicated to write anyway since they could have such different relationships. (I think he'd have just swatted a hostile former Inquisitor.)

Varric was the one NPC in DA:I (excluding Cole) with whom Solas did develop something of a friendship. Iifrc Varric shows signs he suspects Solas isn't who he claims in the very first quests. But he's never hostile to Solas, just curious. He gives him a friendly nickname, Chuckles, just like he does everyone else, and Solas just sighs. I think the Dreadwolf rather liked it and certainly recognized the intent. And probably knew that Varric's suspicions just grew over time.

But Solas's trust in Varric was founded on Varric's treatment of Cole. Varric treats Cole like a person from the beginning (iirc), and quickly becomes fatherly toward him. A friendly, well-meaning "demon" isn't going to worry him, a dwarf, after everything he went through in Kirkwall. Solas was very protective of Cole, so you can bet he takes note of Varric's treatment of Cole compared to most of the other members of the Inquisition.

And that leads them to advocate on different sides when Cole reaches a crossroads: whether to be more spirit (Solas) or more human (Varric). You see they both respect each other and know that the other only wants what's best for Cole---in Solas's case with the foreknowledge that he's planning to tear down the Veil and Cole-the-spirit will survive that. Cole-the-man may not. They just have different ideas about what "best" is.

This DA:V opening confrontation between Solas and Varric is, in some ways, that same decision, but with much MUCH higher stakes. Solas could have destroyed Varric like someone swatting a fly---and doesn't. Varric has faith that he won't, even knowing who Solas is, and still reminds the Dreadwolf of their shared past by calling him "Chuckles." He has no fear that Solas-the-god will swat him (or at least not before hearing him out.) And Solas listens to him and argues and you can hear the agony in his voice, because he respects Varric and knows, again, he wants what's best (it's not clear what direct effect tearing down the Fade will have on dwarves; possibly much less than others, but the chaos and disruption and possible attacks by demons would certainly not be good for them.)

Even when Varric actually draws and cocks Bianca, Solas simply swats Bianca away, not Varric. While that may have been the most personal attack possible, it was the mildest self-defense he could choose at that moment (I'm going to believe Bianca can be repaired, lol.) I think they were showing us that Solas's humanity and relationships will ultimately be important to the story still.

I admit, I had some concerns about them choosing Varric as a major character again (as someone who didn't play DA2, he felt very forced as a "friend" in DA:I and also fairly remote from the Inquisitor, so I don't have the emotional attachment to him that DA2 players usually do.) And because it had been so long, I'd almost forgotten about the Cole quest line. But damn, that was some impressive writing that helped tie the games together better for those who played DA:I and really established who both of them are for those who didn't.

I'll be very curious to see whether or not this opening changes based on the relationship between Solas and the Inquisitor (i.e. romance, non-romance friendship, or antagonism.) And I have to wonder, because they emphasized the connection, if Cole is one of the past NPCs who will make an appearance in DA:V...

**The one thing I'm not sure new players would get from that trailer was that Solas was responsible for putting up the Veil to begin with and the consequences, but that should come out over time in-game.

[tales-of-wocdes]

You have no idea how happy I am to have stumbled upon this gem! Your If is incredible! The writing grabbed me immediately and I'm so curious about learning more about this world!

Not to forget my new favorite little freak, the MC! This little traumatized baby had my full attention the moment I read them losing their mind with those chains. I love weird little freaks and this one is everything I could ever ask and more!

I can't wait to finally meet the twins and see their reactions to our little guy! It will either go very well or be a horrible disaster!

The features are all so cool, being able to mix and match parts makes me really happy and makes me wonder more about the MC's past.

I can already picture it, the weird new kid in the orphanage that's more animal than human that will try to bite you or kill themselves if you take your eyes off them even for a second.

In the same note, I was so surprised when I could actually kill myself in the first chapter. Not a bad surprised, I'm actually impressed at the commitment and makes me super excited for what more your could give us!

In short, I loved everything so far, and I eagerly wait for future updates because that cliffhanger you threw at us was mean! So thank you for the great story!

Thank you! Happy to hear you like the MC... though based on everything I have read and gotten in the asks, you are hardly alone in liking MC :D

The heritage features got popular, which is why I overhauled them :D And I will freely admit that the mixing and matching is allowed because it makes people happier that way :D Not so much for narrative consistency. Considering all the things MC can be, there cannot be too much weight put into any specific background since there are a lot of options.

Havard and Lexia might have their hands full with MC in some cases. And yeah, the first chapter had some extreme options. I did wonder if I was going too far sometimes... which just made me include the censor thing. Made sense to me to include the option, and not pull punches with that.

I did not think I was being mean in C2 :D Of course, I am writing the story so I may be biased. Sorry about that... OK I am not that sorry. It seemed like a good spot to end C2.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

I've seen some of your deadpool pred stuffs and was hoping I could get some more from ya as it's really good

Yeah, definitely! I haven't done nearly enough with this guy anyway.

"Seriously, is that all you have to say?" D.eadpool complains, looking down at his bloated stomach. "'Let me out!' 'Help me!' 'I'm melting!' 'Blorp!' Get some new material, seriously! You sound the same as the last twenty guys I ate!" He pokes his gut, his finger sinking into the soft sphere. It wobbles a bit, but his prey has long since digested down into slop. "Great, this guy's a terrible conversationalist, too. When am I going to find the right man for me?" D.eadpool pouts, crossing his arms while his stomach churns wetly. D.eadpool grabs the next guy that he'd knocked out. A rancid belch to the fact wakes the man up, though. "Oh well, plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe you know something." He starts cramming the man down, devouring him just as greedily as he had the first several. He's gotten a hit for a rather elusive man, one that even he's struggling to find. Thankfully, D.eadpool got a lead and is now casually plowing through some crime gang he can't recall the name of, one member at a time. One of them is bound to have some information he can use, and there's no better method of getting it than taunting them with the slow and inevitable demise of boiling alive in his stomach! At least, that's what he thinks, and that's why yet another dazed man ends up splashing down into the thick sludge in his belly. There were a few more guys lying around, all knocked out thanks to him. if none of them have any info, then he'll just have to move higher up on the food chain around here. He'll figure out what he needs to know, one digested soul at a time. D.eadpool presses down on his stomach, shoving the struggling man back into place in the boiling bit. "No need to get feisty. Just tell me what I need to know..." However long it takes, D.eadpool is going to walk out of here very full, so it's a win for him either way. It's just a matter of how many thugs he's going to digest before he's done.

"W.ade, I swear to god, let me g--" S.pider-man is cut off by a wet gulp from D.eadpool, sending him down the hatch and sloshing into the anti-hero's gut. D.eadpool belches wetly and pats his stomach a few times as he feels his treat start to thrash around inside. "C'mon, S.pidey, we both know you like it~" D.eadpool teases, pushing down on whatever bulges try to shove outward. "Just relax and enjoy yourself. Someone was bound to eat you. I mean, this is a vore story, so it was going to happen." S.pider-man pushes outward again and D.eadpool lets loose another crass belch. Some muffled words don't get past the thick gurgling and fat of his gut. D.eadpool pats his stomach a few times and leans back on the couch he's on. "I know, I know, you're melting alive but think of it this way--out of everyone who ate you, it was me! Your favorite guy! And I know how to treat my prey right." A few more shoves get all those bulges back into place and D.eadpool starts to knead over his gut, groaning happily. "There you go...just settle down, S.pidery. Let ol' D.eadpool take over...I've gotcha now..." His guts churn heavily and S.pider-man tries to struggle more, but the best he can manage is shifting around and making the gut sway. He's already being worn down by D.eadpool's stomach and the kneading isn't helping. He'd never admit it...but it all feels kind of nice. D.eadpool belches harshly again, pushing his fingers a bit deeper into his gut. "Woof, starting to stink up a storm out here. Guess it can't smell too pretty in there, though." He pats the side of his gut a few times, making it slosh wetly. S.pider-man isn't struggling anymore, just curled up tight in the gurgling tank. "See, I told you you'd enjoy yourself once you relaxed. I'm gonna melt you down good, better than anyone else could. Just try to go to my ass, alright? I could use a bit more weight back there." He presses down on his stomach again, his hand sinking in a bit. S.pider-man will be gone in the next couple hours, and by the follownig day, he'll just be a bit more heft on D.eadpool's body and a belched-up suit, if it survives. But he'll always belong to D.eadpool, and that's all the anti-hero really cares about.

Hands rub over D.eadpool's engorged gut, making him groan with pleasure. "You know, this is kind of fucked up," he says, lifting his head a bit to look at the guy rubbing his gut, "so it's a good thing I like fucked up." He can see that his little belly rubber blushes at that. D.eadpool leans in closer to let out a rank belch right into his place, the stink of old meat thick on his breath while his guts churned. His latest 'hit' was put in by some random college student who was a bit sick of his douchey roommate and his douchey friends. D.eadpool has killed for less, so he was more than happy to take on a good four-course meal. Of course, he didn't think he'd be getting some free belly rubs from the guy who gave him the job in the first place. Not that he's complaining, of course. The four guys had been beefy frat boys, and while they went down easy, they felt like cement in his guts. So the nimble hands working their magic over his stomach is more than welcome for D.eadpool. He hits the belly rubber with another crass belch, making him blush bright red that time. "Hey, you don't need to be so embarrassed. I know a guy who gets off to this stuff, too. I don't judge." He lays his head back against the couch again with a pleased sigh and simply lets the college guy do his job. D.eadpool's guts groan and churn wetly, steadily working down all that college meat with ease. His guts round out and get softer, the rubbing hands sinking deeper into his belly as time goes on. D.eadpool makes sure to belch good for his helper since he seems to like it so much. He hacks up a few things in the process--some mismatched shoes, a baseball cap, someone's underwear, and a few bones. They end up splattered around the apartment's living room, all dripping in drool. Not his problem, though. After a couple of hours, D.eadpool has a taut, gurgling pot belly chugging along the last bits of college boy. He gets up and pins the rubber down, pressing his gurgling stomach against him and belching into his face one last time. "Thanks for buying me dinner, kid. If you have anyone else you want to see gone, you know who to call." He gets off the couch, leaving the dazed student behind as he saunters out of the dorm room. He hopes he gets more jobs like these. It's cute when he gets some flustered guys to watch him eat.

[thatshadowhunterlife]

Pressure Makes Diamonds (THG AU)

Summary: Winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters when you have people waiting for you at home. Chrysanthemum Everdeen is the oldest of the Everdeen siblings. Her whole life is based on the survival of her and her family. When it's time for the annual Hunger Games to take place, she can't even imagine her name getting picked even with the odds stacked against her. When she is called to enter the deadly games she feels her whole world shift. Winning would mean everything to her family but her odds aren't the best. If she is to win, she has to make difficult decisions about survival, family, and love.

OR an AU where Katniss has an older sister that participated in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56708572/chapters/144155971

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

Chapter One

The early morning sunlight shines brightly from between my blinds, waking me up. I can’t help but groan. I hate waking up so early but I know I have to. I roll on my side and look at my sleeping sister. She always looks younger when she sleeps, more relaxed. Normally I’d wake her up and ask her if she wants to come with me, but she deserves to sleep in today. It’s her first Reaping Day afterall.

I slip out of bed and stretch. I need to hurry up before Katniss decides to come along. From our room I can see my other little sister, Primrose, sleeping with our mother. She looks fresh and innocent. Just as beautiful as the flower she was named after. I can’t help but smile. I can’t give them much, but I can at least let them stay like this for a little while longer.

I grab a shirt and pants and put them on before slipping on my hunting boots and my father’s hunting jacket. It smelled of coal dust and the meadow. He hasn’t been in this jacket in about a year now but it still mildly smelled of him. I dread the day when it won’t anymore. I still can’t believe it’s been a year without him already. 

When I walk into the kitchen, there was a little bit of cheese wrapped in herb leaves waiting on the table for me. There was a little note sitting next to it that read “From Katniss.” She probably went into the woods yesterday and traded something for it. That kid is sweeter than she likes to admit. I put the cheese into my pocket, slip my forage bag over my shoulder, and head out the door.

Our part of District 12 is nicknamed “The Seam”. Normally by this time, it would be swarming with coal miners heading to the mines. But not today. Not on Reaping Day. Today, people try to sleep in for as long as they can. It’s the one day that they can so why not? Sleep helps you forget about everything for a bit. Like a pause in a song. 

Since we live on the edge of District 12, I only have to walk past a few gates to get to the little field we call the Meadow. The Meadow and the woods are like  saviors for my family. They kept us alive on a miner’s pay. Sometimes during the fall, those who were brave enough to enter the Meadow would go to gather apples and syrup to make maple syrup. It always sells very well in the Hob. The only thing that separates the Meadow from the woods is a chain linked fence with barbed wire loops at the top. The fence is supposed to be alive with electricity 24 hours a day, but since we are lucky to get any electricity at all it is typically off. Either way, I always listen out for the hum of the fence and I’ve taught Katniss to do the same. You can never be too careful. As expected, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

There is a little hole in the fence that is hidden behind two bushes. I suck in my stomach and slide under the fence. Once I’m in the woods, I instantly feel more relaxed. It feels like I’m coming home. I walk over to the hollow tree that my father kept our weapons in. My specialty is throwing knives. My father made me a set for my birthday one year. The supplies must have cost a fortune and I’m sure my mother was not thrilled to see her ten year old daughter with a set of knives. Sometimes I use my father's bow as well, but not very often. That is more of my sister’s thing. Killing things with a knife is just easier for me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my father. He was blown up in the coal mines. I still get nightmares about it. My father was too good of a man for this world anyways. It didn’t deserve him.

“I hate this goddamn place,” I mutter once I’m in the clear. If I got caught saying that in the district, I could be shot on the spot by a Peacekeeper. I reserve my thoughts about District 12 to the woods where I know I’m safe. Even at home, I need to be careful that my sisters don’t repeat something I’ve said. Though Katniss has some feelings of her own.

I push through a few bushes and arrive at  our meeting spot. My best friend Ashton Hawthorne leans against a tree, popping wild berries into his mouth. I can’t help but to smile when I see him. He is one of the only people I can truly be myself with. 

“Hey Chrissy!” Ashton waves at me.

My real name is Chrysanthemum. Our father loved plants so much that he named each kid after one. Unfortunately for me, mine had to be the longest and most complicated. First child problems I guess. Regardless, it’s a mouthful for everyone so it’s just easier to call me by my nickname. 

“Look at the little present Gale left us,” He takes out a piece of bread. Actual bakery bread, not the stuff we make with our tesserae rations. That must’ve cost him at least a squirrel. Maybe even two because it’s a holiday. Though I don’t think it should be called something so joyous.

“I swear him and Katniss must’ve gone hunting together. She left me a little bit of cheese.” I say.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if they did,” Ashton says, “they’ve been doing pretty well on their own lately.”

“What can I say? I’m a great teacher,” I tease. 

When my father died I had to take over teaching Katniss how to hunt. Once she met Gale, it became a duo thing. They are as close knit as Ash and I are. Maybe closer. I can see them getting married when they are older.

I gather some more wild berries before sitting down next to Ashton to eat. I take out the cheese and he splits the bread in half. We split the berries between the two of us then dig in. It was the nicest breakfast I’ve had in awhile.

“Oh I forgot, happy Reaping day.” Ashton says.

“Happy Reaping Day Ash. And may the odds be ever in your favor!” I say in that stupid capitol accent. It sounds so ridiculous that it’s hard to not make fun of it. Ashton and I laugh softly. “So, what are you in the mood for today?” I ask.

“We can see if we can find some shellfish by the lake then gather some greens and berries. Get something nice for today?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We start walking down to the lake. “You know, we should make a deal” Ashton says looking up at the sky. 

“What kind of deal?” I ask.

“If one of us gets picked-”

“We aren’t going to get picked Ash,” I say dismissively.

“Quit cutting me off. I said if because we don’t know. Our names are both in there a whole bunch of times. I lost track, I don’t know about you. But if one of us gets picked, we need to take care of the other person’s family,” he says looking into my eyes.

He is right about our likelihood of getting chosen even if I hate to hear it. “Alright you got yourself a deal,” I hold out my pinky. We interlock pinkies and squeeze. “Now it’s official. You know how serious I take pinky promises.”

“Trust me, I know. You still remind me of when I promised you that I would get you strawberries for your birthday and didn’t,” he laughs. He claps his hands together loudly. “Alright! Now that that conversation is done, how about we get some dinner?”

We made out good today. We found about a bag of shellfish, two bags of greens, and a gallon of the wildberries. On the way back, we kill a couple squirrels to sell to Greasy Sae in the Hob. 

“Let’s head to the Hob first then we can sell some of the berries to the baker and the mayor.” I say. We have enough that we’d still be able to split them between the two of us after selling. 

“Alright.” Ashton says.

I felt strange after that conversation with Ashton. We don’t normally talk about things that dark. If you don’t count starving and stuff. But I think it makes it worse because it’s Reaping Day. On Reaping Day, it’s a different kind of survival running through our heads; one that we have no control over.

Our feet just take us to the Hob. Muscle memory I guess or whatever my science book said. We make our way over to Greasy Sae and plop the squirrels on her table. She looks it over and then pays us nicely for it.

“Once it’s in the soup, we’ll call it beef.” she chuckles.

I don’t normally eat her soup for that very reason. You never really know what’s really in it. I have to be starving more than usual to eat Greasy Sae’s soup. We continue throughout the Hob selling some of our spoils. We split the money like always and then split what was left of the food. 

“See you in the Square.” I tell Ash as we get closer to his house.

“Wear something pretty,” he says in a teasing tone. I roll my eyes and just mumble my answer before we go our separate ways. On the way to my house, I mentally prepare myself to act tough in front of Katniss and Prim. I know Katniss is terrified right now. I need to be like how my mother was for me on my first Reaping day.

I walk through the door with a big smile on my face.“I’m home!” I say in a sing-song voice. Prim comes running towards me yelling my name. I pick her up and rest her on my hip. She is eight years old but years of malnutrition has kept her small enough for me to carry her. “Hey there my little flower,” I say kissing her cheek.

“Katniss looks super pretty Chrissy! Come and look!” Prim says excitedly. I walk over to our room and see my little sister in the new outfit I bought her for her first Reaping: a pretty white blouse and a beige ruffled skirt.

“You’re right Prim, she does look very pretty,” I say softly. I place Prim down so she could get ready herself. I sit on the bed and pat the spot next to me. “Let me do your hair Katniss.” She brings a brush and sits down next to me. I brush out all the knots in her hair before braiding it down her back. When I was done, Katniss goes to look at herself in the mirror. She smiles at her reflection. “Thank you Chrissy!” she says.

“Any time,” I say. I leave to get myself ready. It’s one of the only days I get to dress up and I would like to take my time. I find a bath waiting for me with warm water. Katniss and Prim must’ve filled it up for me. I soak in the warm water for a few minutes then scrub all of the dirt and grime from my body. I grab the soap and wash my hair then get out of the bath. When I enter our room, I see a soft yellow dress and matching shoes laying on the bed. It’s much too fancy to be something I own. It looked more like something from my mother’s apothecary days. “Mom? Did you leave this for me?” I call out.

“Yes. I thought it would look nice on you.” my mother says very softly.

I just accept the kindness she is trying to show me. It’s the most I’ve heard her talk in awhile anyways. I thank her before putting on the dress. I look at myself in the mirror and I hardly recognize my own reflection. I towel dry my hair then style it. “Alright get your shoes on everyone!” I call out.

Katniss and Prim walk in. “You look so beautiful.” Katniss says in awe. 

“Not as beautiful as you two.” I smile. I look over at the clock. We need to leave now or else we’ll be late. Attendance is huge at the Reaping. You have to be dying not to come, and even then Peacekeepers will come and check to see if you’re telling the truth. If they find out you’re lying, you’re dead on the spot.

“Alright, come on everyone. We need to leave.” I say. I’m the last to leave the walk out the door so I can make sure everyone was okay and presentable. I always have to make sure we look presentable and stronger than we were. If I didn’t, Peacekeepers would’ve taken Katniss, Prim, and I right after our father died since our mother basically shut off like a light switch. She could barely take care of herself, let alone her three children. I was angry at her, sometimes I still am, but in a way I feel bad for her. She lost the love of her life. But she left her eldest daughter to be the head of the house, which is something I still can’t forgive her for. 

I hold Katniss and Prim’s hands as we walk into the Square. The crowd is big and I don’t want the two of them getting lost. Our mother falls slightly behind us. “Katniss and I have to get checked in. Watch Primrose. Do not let her leave your side,” I firmly say to my mother. It feels like this is how I have to talk to her. She nods and stays silent. I kneel down to Prim’s height. “Don’t leave Mom’s side,” I say in a softer tone. 

“Okay!” Prim says smiling. She’s starting to lose her baby teeth so her smile makes me giggle. 

Katniss and I walk over to the check in station. Several Peacemakers were lined up at stations taking everyone’s blood and making them sign paperwork. They ask some people a few questions. 

“They are going to prick your finger okay? It only hurts a little bit. Then they’re going to ask you a few questions. It’s okay.  I know you’re a tough kid so you’ll be fine,” I tell her.

“I’m not even scared Chrissy!” she pouts. I know she is trying to be tough and I appreciate her for it. The conversation I had with Ash is still playing in my head. As much as I hate to admit it, he planted seeds of doubt in my head. What if one of us does get picked?

“May the odds be ever in your favor, little one,” I tell Katniss softly. I kiss her cheek and send her off to stand with her age group. 

I go to stand with the other sixteen year olds of the district. From my spot I could see Ashton very clearly. He cleaned up pretty nice. He’s always been a looker. All the girls in our school seem to think so anyways. He must have felt me staring because he turns his head to me and smiles. “Boring right?” He mouths.

I nod. “Very,” I mouth back. He laughs a little bit. I guess it’s easier for us to laugh about the Reaping than embrace our impending doom. In front of us is a temporary stage that was set up just for the Reaping. A podium was placed downstage with a few chairs behind it for the important people of the district. I look over at the bowl with the girls’ names in it; Chrysanthemum Everdeen is carefully written on twenty nine of those little slips. How they even managed to fit it I would love to know. I had to take out tesserae for all of my family to help us not starve. A tessera is a year’s worth of oil and grain from the Capitol for one person. 

As nice as that sounds, there is obviously a catch. With every tessera you take out, your name gets added into the Reaping bowl more times. That’s why my name is in there so many times. I’ve been taking them out for all of my family since I was twelve.

Katniss insisted on taking some out to help, but I refuse to let her take out any. As long as I am still breathing, Katniss will only have her name in that bowl only the seven times that is required. I would do the same thing for Primrose. That is my job now that my father isn’t around anymore. I protect them now.

The national anthem starts playing, then Mayor Undersee walks up to the podium and recites the history of the Hunger Games and the Dark Days. We’ve all heard it year after year. The districts rebelled against the Capitol, the Capitol fought back, District 13 was blown off the map, and now we have the Hunger Games as punishment. So, kids 12-18 from the rest of the districts have to enter an arena and fight to the death for the Capitol’s entertainment. Is it sickening? Yes. Can we do anything about it? No. So we carry on with it every year. Our district never really wins because we are all basically just skin and bones. District 1, 2, and 4 normally win the Games because they are stronger, well fed, and better liked by the Capitol. They treat the Hunger Games like a tournament rather than a death sentence.

Effie Trinket comes forward after the Mayor is done. Her outfit is as eccentric as always. It looks to be inspired by a tigerlily. I’ve seen them in a book once. The dress itself is a vibrant burnt orange color. The skirt was fashioned to represent the flower itself. It has maroon colored dots stippled in a uniform way. Her face is filled with dark red faux freckles and green heels that wrap around her calves to simulate the stem of the flower. Her wig is a reddish brown this year. 

“Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!” She says cheerfully. Her accent makes me want to throw up. It’s worse than when me and Ashton were making fun of it this morning. “I’m so excited! I think this year we should start with our lovely ladies!” She says. 

Effie walks over to the bowl and I feel my palms begin to sweat. Something doesn’t feel right. 

Maybe I’m being dramatic. I’m probably overthinking it because of how many times my name is in there. But come on, there are hundreds of names in there. Plenty of people have to take out tesserae in this district. I try to slow down my breathing and wipe my hands on my dress. Everything is fine. I need to calm down. I tell myself that yet I still can’t shake this sinking feeling in my chest. My breakfast keeps threatening to make a reappearance. Why am I so nervous this year? The uncertainty never bothered me this much before. Maybe it’s because it’s the first year Katniss’s name is in the bowl with mine? 

The time it takes for her to unfold the little piece of paper felt like an eternity. I see her lips move, but it takes me a moment to fully register what she was saying.  The name Effie called out...was Chrysanthemum Everdeen. It was my name.

[omgkalyppso]

A few months ago I found most of an old wip incomplete from 2011. It follows the post-canon tale of my warden Illusen Amell who intended to refuse Morrigan's ritual and die fighting the archdemon, but survives due to her own pregnancy. She had spent the game in a romance with Alistair, but made him king and effectively ended their relationship through this act. Morrigan, while trying to entice Illusen into agreeing to the ritual, brought up that Zevran also loved her, and perhaps she would consider surviving for his sake. Zevran had never spoken of these feelings with Illusen, but overall now I ship her and Zevran together, even if she and Alistair would be more amicable exes in other situations / au's than their own story, where things slowly spiral, get heated, and hateful.

He is bitter, because he hadn't wanted to be king, and he would have loved her and protected their child had he been provided the opportunity; but with her values, she would not have continued to love him if he hadn't lived up to his responsibilities — and not that she still loves him, or at least, loves him the same anyway. Illusen ends up living maybe a decade, maybe less, as a Flemeth figure in the marshes across the sea, while Zevran travels back and forth from Antiva, helping his brothers, and himself, and trying to make a home to lure Illusen and her child out of isolation. Her (initial) continued refusal to leave makes Zevran worry that she will never love him as he does, but they do grow past that as a couple, just as they both become attached to their strange magical child.

This was all inspired by finishing the game, dying, having Illusen's eulogy epilogue, and then being back at camp and being able to complete Zevran's romance dialogues, despite there being no game left to play.

Anyway. I found the version of the wip that includes Zevran's first appearance. It is 13 year old writing, so I'd like to think I've improved, but ... it isn't so different, and thinking about them lately makes me wonder about exploring their story again.

Fantasized se/lf-harm cw, fantasized harm to an unborn child cw?, weird dreams, dreamed animal death cw?, and other weird stuff!

The dream creatures are the three Hawke siblings as birds of pray, Varric as a nug, Flemeth is the dragon, the black bird can either be Zevran or Morrigan, and the halla is Merrill.

.

From the previous chapter in the wip:

"Alistair. I am harbouring an Old God, whether that means it will be born to look as a beast, or simply act like one … I can't think of one person who'd take the risk of having something like this come into existence," Illusen said, but her voice trembled and her eyes swelled up with tears again and she was glad of not having been presented with a knife with her meal, as she would have gouged out her innards in a moment such as this. "Morrigan … She didn't elaborate on what it meant that the child would have the taint and the soul of an Old God - but we know that an archdemon is simply an Old God subject to the taint so we can assume …" "We can assume the worst," Alistair admitted.

.

Weeks passed, and still no decision had been made over the entity Illusen carried. A team of forty Grey Wardens and seven recruits had arrived, and only their eldest was permitted in talks relating to the Hero of Fereldan. He was a good Grey Warden; distant, imposing and righteous. Alman had taken it upon himself to commit to the idea of having Illusen taken to Weisshaupt in chains, possibly Tranquil, to be examined by those who had access to Grey Warden records and sciences. If he did not think her or the child such a danger then considering the alternatives, his was the best option for public opinion.

To Illusen's mild surprise, the Chantry was uninterested in claiming the child for priesthood or imprisonment. It was they who called for a silent execution, to have the Blight right and truly ended. The public was already told that their Hero was ill, that darkspawn plague was the reason she made little to no public appearances while her subtle bulge grew. Meanwhile Irving, ever the absent and failing father, pleaded with the king to force the Chantry to take the charge into their care. The Circle was so unaware of the entirety of the situation that the First Enchanter believed a horrid precedent was being set by the Chantry seeking to slay the child.

King Alistair could not bring himself to clarify the situation to the Circle, as their response was the best he could hope for, and when he met with the authorities of each respective group, he hoped one might sway the other to compromise and save him this decision.

Illusen had spent most of her time confined in one way or another. Even when she was presented to the army or the Wardens for support in reclaiming the Imperial Highway and burning the dead, she did not look for faces she knew. She empathized more than she ever wished to, with Sten and the suffering of a caged mind.

The mage let herself be led from one gathering to another to a bed that brought her more nightmares. They were not those of an aging Grey Warden, but still vivid and disturbing, and grew worse with each lost familiarity. Wynne and Shale were off to Tevinter, Leliana had taken up work with the Chantry and been nominated to lead an expedition after Andraste’s Ashes in her ruined temple, Sten had left by boat before Illusen had even woken that first time, and none of them had said goodbye.

She saw Oghren in the castle from time to time. He looked wearier with each passing week, she thought, but maybe that was just her own perception, but he definitely had less to say as his responsibilities grew. Arl Eamon selected some human soldier to head Fereldan’s armies, but truly it was the dwarf who organized the companies — and the Dalish, so that the remains of the Blight could be dealt with without allies becoming enemies. Each night he was drunk, and Illusen couldn’t help but wonder how Felsi was coping with life at court.

Alistair might’ve started drinking too if he were not such a light weight.

Her troubled sleep, and maybe the babe, had given the mage to napping mid day from time to time. She was no longer confined to quarters, but didn’t much care for the attention she received in Denerim’s Market Square. Wrapped in robes of deep violet, Illusen made her way to Valendrian’s in the Alienage. Despite her humanity, the elves treated her as if her only oddity had been her being a mage. He was good company, and provided a respite from what had become her life. She would rest against the wall in his kitchen while others brewed ingredients she brought in to a hearty stew, to help with the passing of the plague.

Her head swam and dark clouds hovered over her Fade dreams; her mind and world a maze and the same. Two large birds of prey ripped the flesh from a third, masculine in his plumage; he lay dead beneath a tree twisted as if by the blight. A dragon’s shadow swept overhead, but when Illusen’s perception turned to look, she instead saw a nug falling from the sky, swiftly caught in the talons of a mighty bird of prey, leaving its dead and damaged siblings on the ground. Coins flowed from the nug’s mouth like loud destructive rain.

As the bird of prey took them higher and higher, a cage of harsh lyrium closed around them, with sharpened points threatening to tear the strange duo apart. Illusen soon found that she was the dragon and that her wings were rotten and that she was falling onto the pikes of glowing rock and would crush all that was below. Darkness took her, and so too did a warm comforting feeling. Upon opening her eyes Illusen could not say if she were a dragon or a woman or a flea, but she was cradled in the talons of a funny little black bird and could see that the bird of prey and nug were safe in the horns of a halla. She relaxed and felt safe listening to the beating of the black bird’s wings.

She woke with fever; hot and sweating and uncomfortable. She could have whined and cried were she alone, but she remembered her host and fumbled to stand and greet him. The sun still shone in the window and Illusen was glad not to have overslept. The Hero of Fereldan gave her thanks and stepped out into the Alienage.

It was always a test to make it back to the Arl of Denerim’s Estate without being seen, or at least, recognized and this time she had failed before having begun. Zevran stood at the gate, both arms and legs crossed as he leaned on a wall, chatting up a young elf that left as Illusen approached. She could avoid her friend no longer.

"Flirting with the locals?" asked Illusen, her voice more airy and weak than she intended.

"No more than is polite," Zevran replied with cheek as he stood upright. He squinted and turned his head, examining the Warden. "You look pale. Is it true what they say? That you are dying of the darkspawn plague?"

"I ... don’t know," Illusen responded hesitantly. She wondered how she must look, and how she might look if she retched as she crossed her right arm over her chest to hold the back of her neck. She meant to continue her thought but Zevran plowed on.

"Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?"

Her cheeks flushed as she struggled to meet his gaze. ‘Morrigan told me,’ she wanted to say, ‘that which I could not see or appreciate.’ She hadn’t realized Zevran was in love with her and that was shameful enough in itself, but also now to be carrying Alistair’s child, and to be soon hidden from the world for her sins, insulted Zevran’s interest, honour and trust. Illusen absently cradled her stomach with her left arm, and found herself stuttering as she tried to answer.

"Andraste’s Mercy," cursed a familiar voice. Illusen found herself weeping into Zevran’s pauldrons. He held her close, and tightly, so she could not see his expression, but the embrace only had her sob all the harder. She hadn’t allowed herself a good cry for too long, and her body was a jumble of emotions.

Zevran led her into a back alley, one hand on her back and the other grasping one of hers. He had nowhere to take her, but the apartments in the back of the Alienage were still mostly empty and not completely destroyed. A few picked locks later he seated Illusen safely from the public and waited to hear her tale.

She told him more than she expected to, and he listened more attentively than anyone else had since becoming the Hero of Fereldan. He knew everything now, more even than she.

"I saw Morrigan leave, I'll have you know," Zevran contributed as he leaned back in what remained of a chair. Illusen’s expression changed to surprise and he continued, "Those of the army who saw her say she vanished without a trace, but I ask you: what did she have to leave behind? Bah.

"Sten was blinded by your glory, and Leliana worked to kill more darkspawn, but I looked to Morrigan and saw her eyes. She looked hurt ... betrayed," he paused. "Why would you do something so foolish? Why not let her have the child and save your life?"

"I didn’t know what the child would become ... she even refused to call it a child, I don’t even know what it is that grows inside me ... I expected to be stopping an evil ritual not becoming the catalyst for it." Illusen was calmer than she expected. She did not even feel as if she were defending herself or her actions, Zevran simply sought answers, nothing more.

"What will you do?" asked the elf.

"Wait," replied the mage. "I will not fight my order, my king or the Chantry. I will accept their decision."

Zevran cocked an eyebrow before smirking and leaning forward in his chair, "Warden, perhaps you have them convinced, maybe even yourself, but not I. Would you not leave if you had the choice?"

Illusen’s azure eyes examined the elf slowly and she was quiet for a long time. This was why she had been avoiding him, truly. He was her man, through and through, and both of them were nothing after what they’d experienced, not Wardens, nor Crows, or anything respectable. Her lips trembled as she leaned in for the kiss, and she sighed heavily as she pressed her head against his chin and placed a hand on his heart.

"You will take me away won’t you?" she begged.

"When the time is right," he answered.

[v-anrouge]

CHE'NYA OH MY GOODNESS. I am MORE than happy to talk with you about him for a bit!!

to start, if I may just gush about him for a moment... AAAAA he's been on my mind more and more for the past little while!

at first, I admit I was a bit neutral towards him. I thought he was fun, especially since I usually love Cheshire Cat-related characters, but overall... I don't know, mostly just alright? but I recently reread the parts he's been in, in both Book 1 and in GloMas, and HDSFKJLAHSDJL I ADORE HIM NOW

he's silly and fun, but still incredibly caring and has a sense of responsibility (in his own way, of course), which is what really got me to like him. his puns are terrible fantastic, he's a delightful tease, and he's SO CLEVER. plus, his Unique Magic is brilliant!! and he seems to get a lot of good use out of it ^w^

AND HIS STYLE TOO??? HELLO??? I mean, he has the patches on his trousers, the chains on those boots (which have super cool letter charms on them reading "this way" / "that way", may I add), a French tucked shirt (always SUCH a good look ♡), and his jewellery... and that's not even mentioning how fun his hairstyle and makeup is, and how lovely his tail is, either!! he's so pretty!! (or shall I say purretty?) (I'm sorry)

I'm counting the days until we get either a) more content with him, or b) a Che'nya card (please twst... I would be so ridiculously happy to see a card with this lad ↓)

YE ZYE SYE SYES i was so obsessed w him when he first popped up I was begging to see more chenya is so much fun and he's so silly everytime he appears it's always sure to be a fun interaction and at the same time he is a clearly caring person and AGGSGSHS i love him so much i DESPERATELY need a chenya card SO BADLY oh sighs i love my little punk boy..

[suzubelle-chan]

Breaking Chains Chapter 4

In Which the Doctor Secures her Position and Gets her Friends Jobs

Thank y'all for your patience, and thank Ipham2525 for beta reading this fic!

Content Warnings: Fire (brief), War (mentioned, past)

Now onto the fic!

“We live together…” 

The words sent Sariphi’s heart right into her ears. The beating drowned out whatever Leona said next. She saw the woman offer her hand. She grabbed onto it like a lifeline, questions spilling out of her mouth. “Where is it? Does everybody get along? What kinds of foods do you share? Are there any—” Coughs now  interrupted any more questions. 

“Whoa there, queenie,” Leona stated, pouring a light green liquid out of one of the pots into a cup and offering it to the patient. “I did tell you to save your voice after all. Here, it’s the tea you asked for earlier.” 

Sariphi nodded and took the cup. She blew on the steam rising and took in a sip, sighing at the taste and the relief it brought to her throat. 

“What is that?” the king asked.

Leona blinked. “You haven’t seen tea before, Your Majesty? I thought Amit often serves it with her snacks.”

“It certainly smells like tea…Does tea come in more than one color in Yoana?”

The humans blinked before they let out a soft “oh”. Sariphi went back to sipping her drink. 

“I was quite surprised when I came across this kind of tea,” Juno admitted, pouring herself a cup. “Turns out humans process the leaves that become tea in different ways, creating several colors and flavors. However, nations closest to Ozmargo tend to prefer black tea so that’s probably where we get most of the tea we do have from.”

Sariphi nodded, taking a few more sips. She honestly preferred the taste of black tea; she grew up on it. But when someone was sick, Pop-pop often switched teas depending on the illness. Yet one thing always stayed the same with each cup he offered. She stared down at the cup.  The only thing that would make this tea better would be some…

Just then Leona scooped something glittery and golden out of one of the jars, putting it in her coffee. Sariphi’s focus was on the spoon, but her mind wandered back to her childhood. Seeing her mother carefully place jars filled with honey into their cabinet, grumbling about how much of it they had. The way it oozed and shimmered over morning pancakes. Even on dark, rainy days, seeing the little jar of sunshine, spooning some into her tea while reading a book. Maria sketched on a pad, their bare toes touching each other as they shared the window seat.

The rest of the room just saw Sariphi staring at the golden syrup, her eyes following it as Leona shifted the spoon from side to side. Even as her doctor started moving it in circles, Sariphi’s followed it with little jerks of the head. 

“Does she often get like this?” Will murmured to the king.

“We’ve never seen her like this,” the king admitted, head tilted. He reached a paw out, patting her shoulder. “Sariphi?” 

Whatever spell Sariphi was under broke at the contact as she jumped. She quickly shook her head, reaching around for her tablet and chalk. “Ah sorry, my mind wandered off there,” Sariphi quickly wrote. 

Leona blinked and then snapped her fingers. “Oh-Grewth’s Scythe. You’re from Noel! I should have realized it when you told me your last name…” She bent her head down, rubbing the back of it. “Sorry kiddo. Didn’t mean to bring up your hometown like that.”

Sariphi quickly scribbled, “Don’t be! I didn’t think I’d ever have honey again after coming here. I’ve forgotten the taste of it in my tea…I just realized how much I’ve missed it.”

The king’s brow furrowed. “What’s so special about this honey? What does this have to do with Sariphi’s hometown?”

Will leaned in. “Time for a human lesson. You see, humans can’t trace their ancestry by appearances alone like we beasts often can. So thus, humans came up with the concept of a last or family name which traces who’s related to who. Common folk are often named after professions or the town they live in. Take Carrin for example—Leona’s name is often associated with doctors and healers.”

“Got it from my Ma!”

 Will nodded, stroking his chin. “If I recall correctly, Noel is famous for its flowers and honey.”

“Yeah, people flock from all over to look over those gorgeous fields and sample the various honey they make.” Leona pressed her knuckles to her mouth, eyes closed in concentration. “I’ve done my share of traveling, but I can’t say I’ve been there. Shame, if I’d known there was a child in need of rescuing, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“I think that technically counts as kidnapping, Leona,” Will commented. 

Leona and Sariphi looked at each other, blinking. Then the older woman shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. “Worth it.”

Sariphi giggled a bit. “Thanks, but it wasn’t all bad. I was happy there, I promise.”

A moment of silence fell as everyone focused on the girl enjoying her tea. Each eye shone with questions, but each person kept their mouth shut. 

“What is honey?” the king asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s a kind of syrup made by bees in the human realm,” Juno offered,  “They make it out of nectar as well as any fruit juices they can find.”

“Bees in the…” Sariphi repeated and then feverishly wrote and presented, “Does that mean Ozmargo has bees as well?”

“Well they are about the size of a grown human’s fist, bite–not sting–to ward off attacks so they don’t die after one attack, make mounds of dirt their home, but, yes, Beasts do have ‘bees’,” Leona nodded. “Hard to say if they make honey given how rare flowers are and we’ve always avoided them when we spot them or their hive.”  

“Beast Bees…” Sariphi noted, hands on face, her eyes sparkling.

Leonhart found himself laughing out a small wheeze, twisting his head away. Once he regained his composure, he returned to see Sariphi holding up a spoon to him, her other hand cupping below. “Ah!” Sariphi squeaked.

“This again?” Leonhart pondered. He stared down at the spoon. He then glanced at the other adults in the room but discovered them gone from their seats. 

“You know, people-watching in the Beast realm, so fascinating,” Leona commented. 

The royal couple saw the trio at a window, peering out of it. “I mean just look at all the interesting people down there,” Leona stated, hand out. “Some of these folks you’d never see on the tapestries and war pictures back in Yoana.”

“Indeed, the capital hosts quite a diverse population from all over Ozmargo and even beyond its borders,” Will confirmed. “Is that a Roc-folk Juno? Never thought I’d see one this far east…”

Juno peered over her friend’s shoulder. “I think so.They certainly are massive, even for bird folk.  Ooh…look at that shawl that the bear lady is wearing. I wonder if I could find it in town.”

“That is pretty,” Leona commented, “Can you snag me one too if you find one?”

“One for my wife and Maya, too, please?” Will asked.

“Maya’s just a toddler, it’ll be too big for her.”

He shrugged. “She can still wrap herself in it. She’s always so cute when she does that.” 

The king muttered, “They are so obvious…” He looked at his bride, still holding the spoon, eyes wide. He sighed and opened his mouth. The moment the goop hit his tongue, the oozing thick texture sent his tail bristling.  He twisted his head away as he swallowed, then gasped, flicking his tongue out. “Ugh!” 

The trio almost exploded with laughter: Juno holding her stomach, Will hitting the wall, and Leona sliding down, tears dewing up in her eyes. In her hand, a hand mirror shone, reflecting the unamused King of Beasts and curious Acting Queen Consort of Beasts. “It’s like a baby’s reaction to a lemon!” 

The declaration sent the doctor’s companions laughing even louder, Leona gasping for air in between her wheezes.

Sariphi frowned and quickly wrote on her board. “I am sorry, Your Majesty.”

“It’s fine. Of course, there would be things we don’t like,” the king admitted, snatching and lapping his coffee. 

“And to be fair, most folks don’t eat honey straight out the jar,” Leona commented, finally catching her breath and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Honey is typically put into drinks or spread on things like cakes and toast.”

“Toast?” His Majesty asked.

“It’s essentially cooked bread,” Will stated. 

The king blinked. “Cooked bread.” 

Will shrugged. “It’s a human thing. You’ll get used to it. Eventually.” 

“Enough, enough,” the king huffed, a paw on his face. “Tell us more about your town. We’ve never heard of such a thing.”

The trio returned to their seats, their backs straighter. Juno had her hands clasped tightly in her middle. Leona rubbed the back of her neck. “Wanna take this one, Will?”

Will nodded. “That’s because we’ve done our best to keep a low profile and keep our village hidden,” The dog looked down into his cup. “We technically live in an area that is in Yoana, but in one of the mountain border areas so we aren’t near the Gate, since the mountains act as a natural border. Not only is it tricky for people to traverse the mountains, it often gets miasma clouds for days or even weeks at a time. Naturally no human would want to live there.” Will gave his human companion a glance. “Well, most humans that is.”

“So don’t worry, your royalness,” Leona quipped, finger in the air, “we don’t owe you any taxes. And we make quite a few donations to the various temples around us so the royal humans don’t notice.” 

A moment passed. The king asked, “Why? Why do you live in such a place?”

Will smiled. “I can answer that, because I’m actually one of its founding members.”

“Really?” Sariphi asked. 

“Yes, it didn’t really start out as a village for humans and beasts to live together. I was trying to find a place where I could live with my wife freely, without anyone trying to harm us.”

“Why?” Sariphi wrote.

“Well for one thing…” Will glanced at the two pots on the tray. He cupped each one, and in the blink of an eye, bright red flames burst in each paw.

Sariphi gasped and then clapped her hands. The king blinked. “You can do magic.”

Will smiled and the flames vanished. The only proof was the steam flowing from the spouts. “Thank you. Thank you. Yes I can.” He set them down, shaking his paws, now a bright red. He then poured himself more coffee. “I’m sure it comes as a shock, Lady Sariphi, given the war stories, history books, paintings and tapestries, but magic isn’t common among Beasts. Most magic users hail from certain clans, either royal or noble families. But now and then, occasionally a commoner is able to use magic like myself. I have no clan to speak of; I never even knew my blood parents. With my magic, society eagerly took me in despite my background, and I found myself a mage.” 

Sariphi tilted her head. “Mage?”

“Soldiers that fight using magic rather than weapons,” Leona explained. As she helped herself to the now warm coffee, she added, “Some do it by some kind of magic blasts; others do it by enchanting weapons for certain effects. Those fire arrows that you see all in the battle paintings? Those are real.”

Will cleared his throat, steering the conversation back to himself. “Life was different around the turn of the century, especially with the war going on. There were far more laws about who could be even seen with whom, let alone who could marry and have children with whom. And the fact that I wield magic made my position in society complicated…I made mistakes early on in my marriage in order to keep us safe, until I finally found the courage to leave the kingdom so I can live freely with the woman I love.”

“We’ve repealed laws about such things,” the king declared. 

“We’re deeply grateful for that, Your Majesty.” Will nodded solemnly. He now stared at his paws, slowly fading to black.  “In the years after we left, we found some more like us—some beasts, some humans. We relied on one another for survival at times, companionship for others. As the years passed, we became a family. By the time you did such things, we already had humans as well as Beasts who couldn’t go back to their birthlands for one reason or another. We can’t just break up this family, not then and not now.”

Juno nodded. “Honestly, it would break my heart to move back here completely. The Town is where I got married, started my baking business, and it’s the only home my girls know, surrounded by all of their aunties and uncles. It’d take God himself to take us away from our home.”

“Here, here,” Leona cheered with her mug, knocking her knuckle on the wooden cabinet. 

“You have daughters?” Sariphi wrote.

“Yes, two.” Juno walked over to a bed, pulling out a white bag. She fiddled around and pulled out a few sheets of paper. After flipping through several, she placed some back in the bag and then headed over to Sariphi’s bed. She offered them to the couple. Sariphi quickly took them, leaning close to His Majesty so he could get a look. She held up a black-and-white image of one young black calf girl, leaning on a cane. The calf sat next to a young reptile girl, an almost mini-Juno with her spots.

“Your husband is a bull?” Sariphi asked.

“Ah no. He’s actually a panther. Vulka, the calf, she’s adopted. Found her one day and just couldn’t let her go.”

“What are these?” The king stared at the sheet. Sariphi offered the first one, waving it around a little to hear the flap-flap sound the sheet made. He took it gingerly in between his claws.

“Ah right. Humans have this device called a camera. It’s a kind of box through which a combination of light and ink can essentially make a small portrait, or rather a picture, of something or someone.” 

Sariphi flipped through the pictures, pausing at one where most of it was taken up by a large black blur. She turned it towards Juno. “Your husband?” she asked.

Juno sighed, hand on cheek. “Yeah, he’s rather bad at being still long enough for the image to set. I swear he’s like an overgrown child, and even my girls can sit still long enough for a photo.”

Sariphi then saw another photo of Juno’s girls in some sand. In between them was a Black human man with a beard and his hair trimmed close to his head, buried in the sand with a big grin on his face. She flipped it over and tapped on his face.

Juno startled and let out another sigh. “That’s Mwindo. The village blacksmith, known charmer and sweet tooth. He’s always trying to butter me up to give him more sweets and other goods I make. And if he wasn’t so good with the girls, I would have thrown him into the local lake decades ago.”  

The royal couple stared at the pictures. Most were children. A human toddler,  a girl judging by her dress on the ground in a blanket, the next showing her wrapped up in it. Three dog men—“my boys” Will stated—chasing a pair of donkey children that His Majesty looked over. Humans and beasts taking turns on a rope swing. Leona and what looked like a white bear woman tossing a slightly darker bear cub in the air with the help of a sheet they shared. The couple flicked through some more domestic scenes. At a snow-covered scene, Sariphi quickly twisted it around and asked, “Are these your children?”

In the snow was a young boy around nine or so, with a round face and a flat cap on his head. He patted a snowman with his mittened hands. A woman, a younger, less scarred Leona, was dressed in a fine fur-trimmed coat with a large hood that almost swallowed her head as she added a stick to what looked like a snowbeast, effectively giving it antlers. 

Leona beamed. “Ah yes. My Leonora and Leo.”

The royal couple blinked.

The dog chuckled. “If you are wondering–yes.”

“Yes what?” His Majesty asked. 

“Leona’s children’s names are as follows:” Will began to count on his fingers. “Leone–not pictured, Leonora–pictured, Galileo–not pictured, and Leo–pictured. Care to explain, Leona?” 

The human woman shrugged, picking up her cup. “The ‘Leo’ in my name means ‘bold, courageous, brave’. Depends on whatever musty Old Language book you consult. My husband loves me for my bravery so thus my daughters got Leo names. Galileo was adopted and came with the name. Leo was a surprise and might as well match the rest of his siblings.” Just as she raised the cup to her lips, she paused. “Come to think of it, all my sons were surprises.”

“And you’re weak to your husband’s please face,” Juno commented before drinking her tea. 

“And I’m weak to my husband’s please face,” Leona confirmed with a nod, taking a sip of her drink.

“Please face?” the King of Beasts repeated.

The trio glanced between the two. Juno covered her mouth, trying to hold back her snickering. Leona, however, had no reservations and wheezed openly.

Will gave the king a small pat on the arm. “One day you shall know your majesty.” He gave a small smirk to the maiden, “I suspect you will know all too well.”

Sariphi opened her mouth, but glanced between the two men, eyes focused on the king’s furrowed brow and ears at odd angles. So she decided to keep her mouth shut and focus on the images, flipping through some more. One caught her attention:  a swan fellow dipping a young human woman with rather large ears and freckles. He smirked as she laughed. Sariphi giggled at the sight. The king leaned in and huffed at the image.

“Beasts and Humans really are getting along in your village,” he commented.

Leona tilted her head to see what the couple was looking at. She beamed at the sight. “Well, I’d hope they’d get along; those two are married.”

The royal couple blinked. “Pardon?” they both asked. 

“Yep, they’re like you two. Got married and settled in our village about three years ago.”

Juno sighed dreamily, “They are such a wonderful couple together.”

Will grumbled, “If you mean sickly sweet and act like they just married two hours ago for the last few years, then yes wonderful.”

Juno waved her hand. “That’s how a couple with passion in their veins should be. Adonis was always a flirt for a while, but now spends all his time devoted to his wife Millie.” She grinned, leaning in closer to the royals. “If you want, you two can get into the baby pool.”

Will chuckled, shaking his head. “Juno, they aren’t even expecting yet!”

Leona shook her head. “Nah, I’ve got a good feeling about this year. We’ll be hearing about an upcoming cygnet soon. Just you wait. I’m placing my money on a boy.”

“Knowing Adonis, he might just end up fainting at the news. He strikes me as a fainter,” Juno murmured. 

Sariphi looked down at the scene and then back at the woman. Her hand patted around her side. The king quickly grabbed it and gave her a small squeeze. She took a deep breath. “Do you think they can…have a child?”

Leona shrugged, leaning back. “Well, I’ve found that with cross-species couples it does take a bit of time.”

Sariphi tilted her head.

“Ah right, in these kinds of situations, however the mom was born is the way the kid will be. Reptiles can lay eggs and have their kids be furry like their papas, and mammals can bear live kids as scaly or feathery as their dads. Beast families are funny that way.” Leona’s eyes gleamed as she faced the royal couple. “By the way, do you prefer the term Faunus or Ferin?”

“What?”

Will held a digit up, mug set down on a table. “Your Majesties, I must insist on the term Ferin.”

“Come on, Faunus sounds cooler,” Leona countered, waving her hands. “Back me up here Queenie!”

Juno raised a digit but then thought of something. She quickly picked up her cup of tea, staring at the drink as if it offended her. 

His Majesty glanced between the two, confusion and a bit of worry on his face. “What are you two going on about?”

Leona clapped her hands, then pointed them to the king, looking remarkably serious. “We’ve been debating what to call folks that’ve one human parent and one beast parent. Calling someone half something, half-beast half-human, just doesn’t sit quite right with us. We figure a new term is in order. Yet some folks don’t understand the genius of my term.”

Will scoffed, “Please you probably just opened up an old book and found the word in there.”

“No, it’s a play on an old word. There’s a difference.”

Sariphi stared down at her lap, her free hand twisting the sheets. She gave the king a glance before answering, “I’m not sure…I’ll have to think on it.”  

Leona watched for a moment before nodding with a warm smile. “Eh, I guess we’ll figure it out some other time.” She then propped a hand on her cheek. “Say, why don’t you two come over and visit our town some time?”

The young couple blinked. 

“Really?” Sariphi asked in awe. 

Leona leaned in, eyes sparkling. “I mean, you’re interested in seeing what it’d be like—Beasts and Humans living alongside each other, right? Stay with us a spell—”

“That’s enough Leona,” Will cut in, almost growling.

The humans and King of Beasts turned to the other two beasts, now scowling. Juno clutched her hands together, a worried look in her eyes. Will however looked ready to bite or burn someone, his paws clenched. 

“But Will…” Leona held her hands out.

Will held a paw up, stopping her words. “I know, I know. But we’ve never really invited someone to our village, especially...” The dog glanced at the royal beast. “A king of all things. Can we really expect our secret to stay a secret?”

“We got here just fine,” Leona pleaded. 

“Yeah, but no one was looking for a Dog man, a Caiman woman, and a Crow woman. People would be curious about the King of Beasts traveling, and let’s be honest he’s not the most inconspicuous guy.”

Juno sighed, “Leona, Will does have a point. We’ve got a lot to lose if someone finds the village but doesn't see it like we do. A Beast might think that the Beasts there are in danger with all the humans around. Might take matters in their own paws or even sound an alarm and call upon other Beasts to try to stop the human ‘threat’.” Juno placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “We can’t risk it.”

The King of Beasts straightened in his chair. “We swear that no harm shall come to your village. You hold and care for our countrymen. For that we shall extend any assistance or protection.”  

Will ground his muzzle into his paws, sighing, “And that’s wonderful, absolutely nice. Quite a boon…however…” The dog looked up at the king. “I’m not sure how much we can rely on your word.”

The king bristled. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I got to talking the other day with the Magics and they…”

“Magics?” Sariphi asked.

“Cy and Clops, your little assistants. That’s what their general clan is called, like how Her Highness Amit is Reptilian.” The golden dog shook his head, his blue earring tapping on the side.  "Anyway, I was talking to them about Sariphi’s life here, and they mentioned that apparently, one day, some thieves managed to sneak into the castle and then tried to shoot Sariphi on sight. And not even, what, five hours later, they killed themselves? The whole situation feels off to me.”

Sariphi, brow furrowed, quickly wrote, “They didn’t shoot at me, they shot at Bennu.”

The king raised his brows. “Really?”

“What?” Juno jumped up. “Did you not ask Sariphi what happened that day?”

“It’s not just the fact Sariphi or Bennu got shot at. It’s more the fact the criminals died before any real investigating could begin—like how they got in here in the first place. And if they shot at Bennu first, that means they had to know about him, and this was before he flew and showed himself to the public right? So it had to be someone in the castle who knew that there was a new holy beast in the kingdom.”

Juno gave the king a sad look. “We trust that you won’t hurt our village, but who’s to say that other beasts won’t?”

Sariphi gripped the sheets, staring down. Leona placed a hand on top of hers. “Change is never easy, even when it comes with benefits. There are some scum that like the world the way it is, because they already benefit from how it is and fear they’ll lose that. But I bet you if there’s anyone who can change this world, to help folks see a peaceful world, it’s you two. You’re already off to a good start.” 

“Really? How?” Sariphi asked.

“You’re trying, you’re doing things, keeping the peace for so many.That’s more than a lot of rulers have done before. Sounds like a good start to me.” 

Sariphi smiled and looked up at the king. He looked pensive, staring at his lap. Sariphi slid her fingers in between his digits, giving his paw a light squeeze. The king looked up at Sariphi. She smiled warmly with a small nod. He returned her smile and squeeze. 

The King of Beasts faced Will, determined. “We realize that there are still gaps where our authority and power may not hold strong. We still have many faults in our reign. However, we shall strive to ensure that this will be a land where no one feels threatened for being themselves. You have our word. If we visit your village, we could put up wards to keep it safe until that day comes.”

Will watched the king, and then cracked a small smile. “I suppose a king’s protection is stronger than any we could do on our own. I’ll take you on that word. I suppose the easiest thing to do is to keep His Majesty in the back of a wagon for two weeks and make sure no one sees him…or give us a little time and we’ll come up with a different solution.” 

“Eh, I’d say the wagon is the best bet.” Leona shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of traveling songs to pass the time.”

“And I’m hoping we’ll come up with something to avoid that,” Will muttered.

“Indeed,” Juno agreed.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Leona asked, hands on hips. 

“Just would like not to hear ‘999 bottles of beer on the wall’ or any number of bottles of beer on the wall for a while.” Juno shrugged. 

“That’s a classic!” The human waved her hands. 

Will sighed, “And even classics get old, Leona. If you humans lived a few more decades, you’d understand that.”

The royal couple watched as the trio squabble for a bit. With a sigh, the king held up a paw, halting their conversation. “We’ll figure out travel arrangements later. First we would like to thank Doctor Leona for her services.” The king looked at the doctor. “With Sariphi better, it’s time for you to claim your reward from us. Speak of it and it shall be yours.”

Leona blinked, “Really? She’s still coughing, though, not to mention she’ll need to rest to get her strength back up.”  

The king nodded, “You’ve already done so much for her, for both of us. Please let us know what you desire, and it shall be yours once Sariphi fully recovers.”

“Then…” Leona turned towards Sariphi, “Would you like to for me to stay, as your personal doctor?”

“Really for me?” the acting royal consort wondered.

Leona’s eyes twinkled as she playfully frowned, “You think I was just going to leave you here after you got better? You need a doctor who knows humans, and I’m already here. Plus, if you’re going to get married soon, little royal cubs will follow. And I know for a fact that beast babies are just like human babies in that they don’t know a thing about time. You might ask me to come in a month early and then they decide to show up three days later.”

Sariphi blushed. 

The king also blushed, harder to see on his face, and muttered, “Vulgar woman.”

“Hey it’s the truth.” She shrugged. “I’ve been a midwife for decades and only a handful are born when they are expected.”

“Are you sure you would like to stay?” Sariphi asked. “You’ll be away from your family for a while.”

Leona flopped in a chair, hand dramatically on her forehead as she said deadpan, “Oh no spending my days taking care of one obedient patient. It’ll be the most difficult case of my career, but I’m sure I shall endure…” She rose, smiling. “It’s fine. I’m often away for a while on my travels to care for others. My family is used to it, so don’t you worry your pretty little head over them.”  She then looked back to the king. “And if it’s alright, would you mind giving Juno and Will jobs here as well?”

“You two wish to stay as well?” the king asked, eyes wide. 

“If you’d be so kind,” Juno stated. 

Will nodded. “We did promise to watch our friend for her family’s sake. It’d be nice if we could do that and support our families at the same time.”

Sariphi asked, “Won’t it be hard for your family for you to be away? You’ll be away for a while.”

Will waved her concern away with his paw. “We take care of each other in our village. Our spouses can easily ask for help if they need it. My wife can take over my classes for the children.” He then uttered, “Plus, what’s the point of having three grown sons if they can’t watch their little sister for their mother?” 

“I left my recipes so if anyone in the village needs something I make, they’ll be able to create it themselves. My girls are lively, but they’re old enough that you don’t have to watch over them all the time. Plus they’ll probably love to spend more time with their father, given how he indulges them when he can. Especially when my back is turned.”

“Plus, from what I’ve heard, Sariphi is in need of some teachers,” Will commented.

“Teachers?” Sariphi repeated.

Juno set down her drink. “We’ve heard from Cy and Clops that Sariphi mainly self-studies in the library.”

Sariphi lowered her head, blushing a bit.

Juno waved her hand. “Please my lady, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. From what I’ve heard, you’ve learned a lot in your time here. However, I do have concerns that you don’t get much practice in managing the castle affairs or in the etiquette expected of the lady of the house. Many years ago…” She glanced away. “Long before I met my husband, I was responsible for the lavish celebratory affairs of the day-to-day menus.” She looked back at the future queen.  “Every lady of quality, from a lady with a small estate to the Queens of Ozmargo, holds similar duties. If I may, I can introduce you to such matters and help you practice so one day you can run the castle with ease.”

Sariphi beamed and nodded.

“Excellent!” Juno clapped her hands. “Once you’re well, we can start your lessons.” 

“Indeed.” Will held out a finger. “If I may, I have spent most of my outside years as a researcher, learning about the histories and cultures found throughout both realms. I’ve also enjoyed teaching others such things. And I bet you could also use some writing practice too.”

Sariphi clapped her hands together, nodding even harder now.  

“So Your Majesty, may we stay as well?” Juno asked. 

“Very well.” The king nodded.

“Great!” Leona held out her hands. “Looking forward to seeing more of you two.” 

Sariphi and Leonhart each took a hand and shook it. 

 ***

A few days later, everyone gathered in the throne room. Sariphi sat upon the king’s knee, in a light blue flowing gown. All eyes were on the three bowing in front of the royal couple. Leona, with her hair in a braid, scars still covered, wore a long black dress, Will in an embroidered red suit, and Juno in a green gown.

“We would like to thank you for saving our consort’s life,” the king started.

“It was a great honor, Your Majesty,” Leona said, not looking up.

“Now we promised you a boon. Speak it now.”

“Well, Your Majesty.” Leona rose, smiling confidently. “I would like a permanent position at the castle for myself and my colleagues. I shall take care of her as her doctor, my friends to be her tutors. That is what I ask for.”

Of course, the council roared in outrage.

“Your Majesty, one human in the castle is already an insult! Imagine what would happen if the populace found out that there were two. They would riot in the streets,” the green, large-nosed council member said.

The king glanced at this man. “We did offer this woman what she desired in curing Sariphi. Do you want us to go back on our word?”

“Well…she is just a….” The green man faltered under the king’s gaze. He then bowed to his king. “Very well sir.” 

The king faced the noirette before him, gaze softer now. “We accept your proposal. However,” he said, turning to the maiden sitting on his knee. “Sariphi, do you accept these people as your tutors and doctor?”

“Gladly, Your Majesty.” The queen-to-be bowed her head. “It would be an honor to learn and be taken care of by those who have come so far for my sake.”

The King of Beasts nodded, “Very well then. It is done.”

With that, the three in the middle of the room cheered as well as Sariphi’s companions on the side of the throne room. Anubis growled, but bowed his head, raising his sleeved arms in front of it. Soldiers sighed in relief. Yet the council tried one final move.

The old, four-eyed cat roared, “Your Majesty you can’t just let these outsiders stay! You can’t trust them! Who knows what they may be plotting!”

The king inhaled, setting almost everyone on edge, waiting for his roar. But a loud clap captured everyone’s attention and turned it towards Sariphi, her hands up in the air. 

“Mr. Advisor, did or didn’t this doctor save our life?” Sariphi asked, sliding off the king’s knee. 

Everyone paused. 

“What?”

Sariphi approached the man, holding her hands in front of her. “We shall ask again, did Ms. Leona save our life or not?”

“She…she did,” the cat replied, inching away from the maiden.

She responded by stepping towards him, looking him straight on, expression not wavering. “And her friends kept her safe on her travels to the castle, deep in the heart of the Beast realm, did they not?”

“Yes...”

Sariphi clapped her hands, quieter this time, smiling. “It is clear to us that the doctor trusts these Beasts a great deal. And we have trusted this woman with our life and will continue to do so. So thus we shall trust the Beasts by her side as well. Will you continue to question the king’s decision to keep our trusted doctor and her companions? Or will you accept this decision? It would save all of us much time if you did.”

“I…no…Your Highness.” He bowed down to her in slow, jerky movements. 

“Good.” Sariphi nodded. She walked over to the trio and offered an arm. “We shall help you find accommodations; do you have any requests for us?”

“It’s an honor, Your Highness.” Leona curtseyed and took Sariphi by the arm. “I hope you know of a room with plenty of light. I’ve got plants to grow. Juno’ll take one by the kitchens and for Will, eh, just clear off a bookshelf in a library and he’ll be fine.”

“I’d like a pillow and blanket, but otherwise that sounds fair.” Will nodded.

“We’ll see what we can arrange,” Sariphi said. 

“Good.” Juno tugged the consort away from her doctor. “And we’ll arrange it so you aren’t too corrupted by Leona here.”

“Come on, you stub your toe, swear in front of a kid, and you’re branded for life.”

Sariphi, Leona, Will and Juno left, seemingly oblivious to the stunned quiet they left behind. Jaws open, eyes wide. Some soldiers scratched their heads. No one noticed the king’s ears pricking, tail wagging slightly. 

Just as the group left the room, Sariphi all but collapsed by the wall, sighing. 

“Sariphi are you okay?” Leona quickly placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Sariphi continued to gasp for breath. “I don’t often talk like that to the council so I’m nervous.”

“I guess you’d have to get used to using that ‘we’ thing. I thought that you sounded really regal back there.”

“Really? Did I?” The maiden asked, eyes shining with hope. 

“Yes.” Leona said with a nod. 

Sariphi faced them. “I’m sure it’s clear to you that the court isn’t fond of me. The few times I’ve met with them, they’ve continued to argue about me like I wasn’t there. I know it tires His Majesty so. Maybe they’ll always dislike me for being human, but I’ll work hard so they’ll at least see me as their queen.”  She looked down at her hands, shaking them. “Phew. That hurt.”

Leona’s apparent eye shone with awe, her mouth an “o” before becoming a beam. “Well, I get the feeling that’ll be like pulling teeth out of a sober person…but if anyone can do it, I bet it’ll be you.” She offered her right side. “Like to lean on me?

“Thank you.” The maiden leaned into the embrace. 

The group made their way down some halls, Juno and Will talking about future subjects of lessons, with Sariphi bright-eyed and eager. Leona just walked along, supporting Sariphi, smiling.

“Sariphi.”

The group turned to see the king right behind them, panting a bit.

“Your Majesty.” Sariphi slipped out of the grasp of her doctor, stepping towards the king. 

They both stared at each other, their eyes wide. The two eager to say so many things, but both mouths remained closed.

Juno glanced at the two and then clapped her hands. “Well, our rooms can wait. Think we’ll take the day to get our bearings around the castle.” The reptile grabbed her friends by the arms and dragged them off.

While following, Leona whined, “Aw come on, this is a perfect smooching moment!” But Juno continued pulling her away. Will followed with no complaint, humming along. 

With flushed faces, the couple watched the group go around a corner. Finally, Sariphi took a deep breath. “Was I too bold earlier?”

“What?”

“In the history books, some of the queens are quoted using the royal ‘we’. I know I’m not queen yet, but I wanted to fight the council myself at least once. To show that, as the queen you chose, I could be like you.” She looked down, rubbing the back of her head. “I guess it doesn’t suit me yet.”

However, a claw brought her chin and attention up to the king, eyes warm and tender. “Sariphi, at that moment, putting that old fool in his place, I found you glorious. I was filled with pride knowing one day you would be my queen.”

“Oh good, thank you.” Sariphi blushed, glancing away a bit. “I’ll try to be bolder in the future…for both our sakes.”

“Take your time.”

Just as he twisted away, the king felt a tug on his sleeve. He returned to find Sariphi on the tips of her toes. Her head barely reached his chest. She let out a soft humm. In a soft voice she asked,  “Could you lean down please?”

The king obeyed, lowering himself until his muzzle hovered above her lips. She stretched her foot a bit more, bringing their mouths together, closing her eyes.

Though his tail bristled at first, as he closed his eyes, it waggled slowly. When they parted the king said, glancing away, back of his paw on his mouth, “It seems your old boldness has returned. You haven’t done anything like that in some time.”

Sariphi blushed, hands waving. “You see…back then I thought I was just a companion so I didn’t mind showing affection. The more I wanted to be queen, the more I thought that it would be improper…and maybe a bit silly.”

The king lowered his paw, face still flushed, and looked directly into her eyes. “I…don’t find such acts silly at all. I’ll ask for discretion of course, but I’d like to have more moments like this with you.”

Sariphi smiled warmly, now looking right at him. “Of course.”

As the two basked in a world of their own, Juno and Will watched eagerly from around the corner. “Ah, remember those days?” Juno sighed.

Will leaned into his friend. “Yeah, so many feelings, but not sure what to do with yourself?”

“Yeah those awkward yet sweet moments,” Juno sighed, “Oh to be young and learning again, right Leona?” She turned to her human friend. “Leona?”

Leona’s gaze was daggers, wanting to shred whatever stood before her. Juno followed her gaze to its target, letting out a small “oh” in understanding. Yet Leona didn’t hear her. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears as she continued to glare at the portrait of the old king, scowling down from his frame. 

Will placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, causing a flinch, snapping her out of the battle. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Leona sighed, “I’m alright. Just keep reminding me the old bastard is gone and I can clean up the mess he made with the kids.”

“Good attitude, but don’t let it consume you.” Will smiled. “Or else you’ll miss out on the good stuff. Like seeing them kiss.”

Leona startled, glancing around. “Kiss? What kiss? What kind?”

Will shrugged. “Oh, just that kind you give when you’re starting out, still not sure what to do with your hands or claws.”

“Aw, I remember those.” She then turned around, accusing finger pointed at the portrait. “Just got to be a bastard even from beyond the grave. I hope Crossa is using you as a foot warmer, and she’s got bunions, craggy nails, smelly feet, the works for you!”

“From your mouth to any god’s willing ears,” Juno commented.

“Amen,” Will agreed. 

They nodded together when they noticed the young consort, still blushing, making her way towards them. She commented, “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Aw, no worries queenie…” Leona waved her hand. “Just taking in some family history.”

“I do believe I know a room that’s perfect for you, Mrs. Leona.”

“Alright then. But feel free to call me Leona if you like.”

The four walked away from the portraits, but Leona couldn’t stop herself from peering over her shoulder to give the old king one last glare. In her low burning rage, she did not notice Sariphi looking at her, eyes shining with curiosity. 

[buzzkillzine]

The year is 2005: I was in year 9 in high school and was well into my era of loving crushingly brutal heavy metal, sludge filled grunge and my hidden way underneath a secret love of pure, dumb, bubblegum pop.

Being in a small country town, the only access we had to music was the single record store in town and the local newsagent where I would buy and read music magazines.

I would usually flick through Rolling Stone but it was too mainstream for me at the time (yes, I was obnoxious back then. I'm sorry), I would read the classic rock magazines with the opinion that 'Old Music' is better than new music (I said I'm sorry, ok! I have changed. I promise) but the main magazines I devoured were Kerrang and Metal Hammer, the later being the best value for me because it would include a free CD with each issue and occasionally, on the best days, a DVD filled with new heavy music for me to discover.

The DVD issues were always great because you could watch a huge mix of bands from different genres: Black Metal, Viking metal, Death Metal, Emo/Screamo, which I usually skipped because emo 'wasn't heavy enough' (I should've just done a blanket apology at the start for most of my highschool opinions), and would include live tracks, interviews and music videos.

I forget which specific issue it was but I was working my way through the DVD one day, skipped past a couple of emo songs and then onto the screen of my very old television came this image...

At first I thought it was going to be some black metal band, in Corpse paint, holding some satanic sermon. The song was called Burning Beard by a band called Clutch. That didn't sound heavy. I might skip it. But then, the band appeared...

Clutch? Who's that?

Who were these bunch of Dads?

Then, the there was lyrics...

Every day, I wake up we drink a lot of coffee and watch the CNN

Every day, I wake up to a bowl of clover honey and let the locusts fly in

What? And what the hell was this time signature they were playing in?

Every time I look out my window same three dogs looking back at me

Every time I open my windows cranes fly in to terrorize me

I was puzzled. This band that looked like a bunch of men who got together on the weekend to play a set of covers at the local pub were playing the most exciting thing I had heard since I started buying Metal Hammer. They didn't wear chains, didn't have long hair, weren't screaming, didn't have wild guitar solos... they just fucken rocked. Hard.

The lyrics are still some of the best bits of weird poetry with hidden layers and meanings that I've heard.

Swan diving off the tongues of crippled giants

Okkam's razor makes the cutting clean

I was hooked and had to find out more.

I bought the album Robot Hives, then went back and got Blast Tyrant. Then over the years, Clutch have become one of my favourite bands.

They pulled me out of so many shitty preconceptions I had about music, people and life in general.

Oh this burning beard I have come undone

It's just as I've feared, I have, I have come undone

A decade or so after first hearing them, while hosting my community radio show, I played a Clutch song. The text line lit up with people asking 'who is this? It's great!'. These listeners would then fall in love with the band the same way I did.

I guess the moral of this story is to not judge books by their cover. Enjoy the stuff you like, even if it's not what you have painstakingly engineered your entire personality around. Admit that it's ok to like different things and that your opinion on music is subjective and can also be flat out wrong.

Oh. And go and listen to Clutch.

[hailbop1701]

More Than There are Stars in the Sky

Keywords: Jewel, Love, Package

Word count: 626

I'm back bitches! My stepdad is pretty awesome, he's letting me use his laptop to write and post and such. I figured I'd start small, and get a bunch of writing done before I post any chapter stuff. So here we are, no beta but Grammarly is dope. Hope you guys like it. :D

He stared at the brown paper package in his hands with furrowed brows. The paper was coated in various stamps as it went through transit. With slight trepidation, Leonard McCoy carefully opened the package. The Enterprise in her time had made many enemies, and he had a few targeting him alone. Leonard wouldn’t put it past any one of them to send him a bomb or disease; though it would be hard with the ‘Fleets screening process. Physical mail was rare so they were incredibly thorough. 

Underneath the brown paper was honest to god handwritten letter wrapped around a long jewelry box. Tossing the wrappings and setting the box down, Leonard smoothed out the letter and began to read. He couldn’t help the broad smile spread across his face and the warmth that filled his heart to the brim. 

Hey Daddy!

I know I know this is really corny but I just couldn’t help myself. By the time this reaches you, we must have talked dozens of times and I’ll have started my first year at Cerberus Academy But I didn’t want to miss your Birthday! I already got what you sent me for mine, and I love it. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to use it, brand new PADD that’s better than what I could get at the store. Tell Uncle Scotty thanks, I know he built it, so don’t fib and tell me otherwise. I’ll make sure to keep it with me at all times I promise. I also got what Uncle Jim sent me and I think he’s a bit paranoid but I appreciate it all the same. I just have to make sure I don’t get caught with a boot knife on campus or at all, ever. 

But enough of my gifts, this is for you! 

(Open it!) 

Grinning Leonard paused in reading his daughter's letter to open the box sitting on his desk. Nestled inside: a necklace, silver chain, and casing with a glittering blue jewel. He didn’t often wear a lot of jewelry, other than his class ring, but this? This he was going to keep close. Looking back at the letter he finished the rest of it as he gently pulled the necklace from its pillow and fiddled with the clasp so he could put it on. 

- It’s an Aquamarine, the birthstone of March (according to the lady at the store), and being that we were both born in March I got myself one too! Now we both have something to connect us. Something to look at or hold on to that will bring a smile to your face. You need to smile more often daddy I swear you’re grumpier than a wet cat sometimes. 

Anyway, this is a reminder that you’re not alone. You have me, Uncle Jim, Auntie Ny, Uncle Spock, and all the others. Just because you’re gonna be in places unknown exploring doesn’t mean you have to be all bottled up and stiff. Have fun, would you? And for the love of Nans pecan pie be careful! 

I love you more than there are stars in the sky, and I hope to get a message from you soon. 

Joanna MaryAnne McCoy 

The necklace sat warmly against his chest and he wasn’t about to admit to anyone that he tearing up. Smiling softly he cleaned up the box and letter, locking them safely away in his desk drawer. Wiping his face and eyes, Leonard checked the time, it was almost time to go to his surprise party. Snorting he shook his head at the fact that they thought they could pull one over on him. Clearing his throat Leonard wandered out into Medbay in a much lighter mood than when he first walked in.

[universitypenguin]

I am loving Princess & The Lawyer. I had zero attraction to Lloyd when the first pics came out. But after seeing him in action in the movie and stories like yours, I am now in love with this character. And I particularly like the way you write him. He's still rough around the edges, has the reckless past, but has managed to grow and mature into a productive member of society. He's still got a lot of work to do, as seen by his attitude toward the paralegals and his realization that he's lacking in experience with intimacy. And that's why his relationship with princess is so amazing. They compliment each other well and I think will help the other grow.

Is the spy in the office at all related to princess' stalker, or are these two completely different situations? I can't wait to see how Lloyd reacts when he finds out about the stalker. I have a feeling he's gonna go into overprotective alpha mode, and I will be 100% here for it.

Love the story, love your page, can't wait to read more!

Thank you so much! 💕

Reading this was such a confidence booster for me. I’m always excited to hear how people are feeling as they progress through the story.

Lloyd’s character in the books was a favorite of mine even before CE played him in the movie. He’s more menacing in the book because MG didn’t show how psychotic he really was until like, the middle of Act 2. I feel like my Lloyd is influenced by Mark Greany more than the Russo Brothers version.

In regards to his attitude toward the paralegals, you should read the side characters perspective on Lloyd and Princess’ relationship. The lead paralegal, Jen - aka “boss of the cardigan mafia” - is designed as a mirror to Lloyd. They don’t get along because they’re basically the same person. However, Jen is a healthier version of his personality and temperament. Princess gets along with both of them because she finds a difficult personality entertaining. She’s the oldest of five which means their tantrums don’t phase her. She maneuvers around them, smooths their ruffled feathers, and doesn’t take their moodiness personally.

Jen doesn’t like to compromise. She has the same single minded purpose to achieve her own goals as he does. Getting shit done is her jam. Things tend to work better when people stay out of her way. It pissed her off that Lloyd couldn’t accept that, at Bishop & Howard, she’s the top of the food chain. She’s been running the paralegal department with military precision for twelve years. He didn’t “kiss the ring” so to speak, and Jen isn’t about to forget that kind of disrespect.

Cough, cough… sound familiar…? I’ll give you a hint - his initials are L.H. 😂

Now, about the spy inside of B&H: no comment. I have nothing to say on this subject. There’s a plan to tie the spy in with the other storylines.

That’s all I can say. The stalker plot line is going to have a few surprises along the way. 🤭🫣😧

I will admit, I’m not one hundred percent sure which way I’m going to swing when I get to the ending. That’s just not how my writing process works. I’ll know about a week before you do. Or even as little twenty-four hours before. (It’s happened before…)

As for Lloyd’s reaction to Princess’ stalker… 😅

It’s going to be over the top. Very, very dramatic. It’s even going to surprise Lloyd when it happens. But it’ll probably resemble something like this scene from Sleeping Beauty: