#I love yall SEA folks so much

[miss-conjayniality]

ITS SOUTHEAST ASIAN ANON here

this is why he’s southeast asian coded:

a) his naturally sexy tanned almost olive toned skin it’s like he lives in the tropics okay !!

b) every time he comes to SEA, most recently jakarta/singapore/philippines he’s just been a total and complete hottie and suits the vibe

c) his facial features are asian but they’re not east asian ??/!: i can’t explain it like even his baby photos

ooooh that’s really interesting! yaaaasssss i totes agree with u on a and b!!! 🥰 he looks like a living, walking exotic vacation ☺️☺️ I love his gorgeous, glowing, dusky skin soooo much and always get AGGRAVATED whenever it gets whitewashed by k-fansites and press. but that’s a story for another day daaahhhlliinggss….😴

and yea i def get u on c!!!! 🤣 his features translate well into many diff races LOL! we stan a mixed race ICON!!!! his beauty transcends borders…..

[bucket-puns]

Knight Zwei West Ishmael on- your house actually, pay up.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hiii 💜 could I request a Daemon x Reader fic? They are in an arranged marriage and it's their wedding night. Reader is quite shy and reserved (she's the total opposite of Daemon) and she is very nervous about having to spend time with him because she knows about his reputation all too well (and also what happened to his first wife, Lady Rhea Royce). So when they're all alone in their chambers she tries to delay the inevitable but he sees right through her. So they start to argue and in the midst of their discussion she tells him she's scared of him. He just chuckles and tells her that he was the one that asked her father for her hand with the approval of his brother, king Viserys. And maybe then some smut? Thank you so much, love!

Mourn Me

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You were the daughter and only child of a wealthy Lord and Lady that had met misfortune during their travels. Falling under the ward of your aunt, she was so graciously set on allowing you to marry for love. However, you did not want that, you wanted Daemon Targaryen.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: fem!reader, smut (dub con, virgin!reader, first time awkwardness, fingering, vaginal penetration, oral [f receiving], praise kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, hair pulling), mentions of death, devious!daemon but you already knew that, fluff maybe, typos, etc.

A/N: folks MDNI im experiencing a crash and burn meaning i cant write anyfin⚰️ so i offer youz dis cos i will just be🧍 lurkin for a while. Anyway idk i had a hard time tryna convince myself that daemon would want an arranged marriage after rhea tbfh so i HAD to convince myself which means i took some liberties SO yeah. also i combined this with another req i have that's pretty similar hope yall like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui

I recall the day my father's brother died. It was a dreary, solemn day, and I had a vapid look upon my face. I felt for my uncle; indeed, it was quite sad that he passed, but I was not terribly close to him.

My father, I knew, was. This was why when he turned from me from over his shoulder, making it a point not to be inconspicuous, and made exaggerated cries in an attempt to make me laugh, that day truly felt sad to me.

My father cared more about how I felt than how he felt. The thought squeezed my heart.

And as I knelt upon the floor, before casket of my father and my mother, tears streaking my eyes, I realized no one in this world would ever do that for me again.

No one would ever swallow their sorrows in lieu of alleviating mine. Not my friends, not my cousins, not my servants, and especially not one of the men presented to me truly cared for my tears, not that way. I knew the acerb truth. They all wanted me for I was the door to my parents wealth.

I was by myself, on my own, and terribly lonely.

And it was not that the Lord of Fleabottom offered anything inverse to it, but I appreciated the fact his mere presence made the thick sea of avaricious men part.

Daemon Targaryen unabashedly eyes me as he hands a random man his cup and walks over. The moment he did, the lords surrounding me dissipated into thin air.

"I thought you would be better looking up close," he speaks once he is beside me.

I turn to him, eyes widening, "I beg your pardon."

"Well," he looks around, "you have all the lords in a riot," he leans towards me and inhales deeply.

I recoil in mortification when he does.

He pulls back with a smirk, "yet you smell like the rest of the ladies, and appear no fairer than them."

My lips part and my wide eyes blink slowly at his words. The prince does nothing. He does not even seem amused by my reaction, instead, he merely assesses me.

What am I? Cattle?

My face contorts and yet I do not get to chew at him, for he asks me abruptly, "what's gotten them so restless?"

I scoff and heave heavily. A loud fit of giggles from the women across the room snap me out of my angry state. Both Daemon and I turn, finding the women were glancing our way, clearly talking about us. I eye the long haired, uncouth ruffian, deciding it would be better if I simply walked away, rather than unleashing the fury that had been building up in me the whole day.

Daemon watches as I walk off. He raises a brow and purses his lip. He raises his voice, "you're a rude one, aren't you?"

I feel my eye twitch, and out of my dropped jaw comes a sound of annoyance. I clench my jaw tightly and strangle my skirts in my hands. I do not give him the satisfaction of turning back to him and head for the banquet to pour myself a cup of wine.

Regretfully, I am quickly hounded by lords left and right again before I can even finish my cup. It is deeply irritating, and though I mention to them I wanted a moment to drink on my own, none of them relent. All the attention draws back that of the prince's.

Once more, like clockwork, I watch as all the men flee the area upon catching sight of the roguish Targaryen making his way over.

This time, I note his deterring presence in the back of my head as I watch him march over to me. Daemon comes up to my side of the banquet. He is facing the opposite direction I am and pours himself a drink, "how do you find the wine, lady?"

I look at him, gobsmacked by his question. I scan the room, finding that the lords and ladies that were so readily coming at me moments ago, since the moment I arrived, were now finding it hard to even keep my gaze. I blink and turn to the man to my side, finding he was already looking back at me.

Daemon takes a sip of his drink.

"It's quite dry, and I think it's been sweetened with honey."

He chuckles as he draws his cup from his lips, "an astute observation," he turns around and looks out to the crowds, making everyone that was looking flinch and look away, "I heard the fool hosting this gaggle cannot stand the taste of sour wine and had all them sweetened-- stupid fuck."

I knit my brows at that and watch him take another sip, "yet you still drink."

Daemon tilts his head and licks his moistened lips, "better than nothing."

For a moment, we do nothing but stand next to each other and scan the room. During this time, I catch sight of my aunt, looking back at me with a wary and concerned expression. She motions with her head, wordlessly telling me to have my leave and go back to entertaining the lords.

I clench my jaw and sigh.

She meant well. If I there was anyone I could trust anyone, it was her, but she was too eager and persistent in marrying me off, in having it done. Yes, she was doing this for my sake. Yes, she was giving me the choice to marry who I please. But I'm exhausted. I'm worn like chalk on a wall. And, in fact, this was the most peace I've had in weeks. Just me, my thoughts-

I turn to my side and watch the man wince at the drink he still pointedly continues to subject himself to.

-and Daemon Targaryen.

I find myself in an interesting situation it seems.

I give my aunt one last look. Her wide eyes were practically screaming at me, though her lips were tightly pressed together. I look back to the prince. He looks back at me with an idle expression.

"Are you here to insult me further, my prince?"

Daemon knits his brows slightly, "insult you, have I? I merely speak plainly."

I do little to mask how my face contorts.

He lifts his cup to sip some more wine, but then changes his mind. He raises a finger from the hand which held it, "if I actually wanted to insult you, you'd be left in a fit of tears."

I release a small breath, "then consider me honored to have not been insulted by you, your grace."

"You don't sound too much it," Daemon sets his cup down, "methinks you should try again."

When Daemon's lilac eyes lock with mine, I hold his stare and ignore his words. I mutter, "if you are still curious as to why a gander of men are flocking toward me, then--"

"Oh no, Lord Barnaby over there already enlightened me of how handsome your inheritance is," he points then tents his hands in front of him, "in truth, I came here to spectate your championship, but the lecherous fucks have evaded my presence," he purses his lips in false thought, "odd, dont you think?"

I cannot help the faint, airy chuckle that leaves my mouth. I shake my head, "clearly, they are all intimidated by your presence."

"Yet," he looks off, "here you are, tall beside me."

I silently look at him for a moment, taking in the slope of his nose, and the cut of his cheek and jaw. I only turn away when he tilts his head and speaks, "do you know her?"

I turn to where he was looking and find my aunt staring back. She gives me another look and I immediately turn away, "she is my aunt."

He hums, "she too can keep my gaze," he turns to me, "color me impressed by the women of your house."

"She no longer belongs to my house."

He hums again, "and soon you no longer will belong to yours."

It was clear at this point, the prince now lost his interest in me and was about to walk away.

I don't let him.

"The lords have fled because they're intimated by the competition."

Daemon, about to walk off, stops himself before he even does. He looks at me and chuckles. He then eyes my body, "I am not interested in the game."

"I doubt they are interested in the game, your grace," I cross my arms, "they are only interested in my gold coffers."

I catch how his eyes land on my bosoms before landing back to my face. Daemon presses his lips into a line and shrugs, "then I'll leave you to finding the most interesting idiot you'd like to give offer your coffers and cunt to."

And though I cringe at his words and he manages a few steps away, I stop him yet again, "you, my prince."

Daemon stills. He takes a moment before turning back to me.

Once we catch each other's eyes, I speak out for good measure and relax my arms to my sides, "I... would interest you."

He looks at me with a darkened gaze. I could not exactly say what expression it was, but it made my stomach roll. He slowly steps forward, "so you enjoy insults?"

He steps again. "You did not insult me, my prince."

Another step, "didn't I?"

I, myself, step back when he presses closer than where he was a while ago, "n-no."

He hums, taking another step.

"Truly," my back hits the banquet table as Daemon invades my space. I shudder at his scent, warm like furnace fire and sweet like oranges, "rough as you are, you do only speak plainly."

Daemon only stops once there was but a step between us. His head is downturned and his eyes are upturned, "zūgagon hontes," scared bird.

I release a breath and manage the gall to push him away. He looks at my hand when it presses against his chest. He chuckles as he steps back, "you want to interest me, yet insult me yourself by calling me rough."

"I-"

He grabs my hand before I pull it away and drags me forward, "what would a little girl like you know of rough?" My heart is trapped in my throat when his calloused fingers begin to rub against my palms as he speaks, "aōha rāpa ondos emagon dōrī gaomagon rhinka mirre." Your soft hands have never done rough work.

I yank my hand away from him and he thoughtlessly releases me. He tilts his head, "what about me has gotten you interested?"

I rub my hands together and breathe deeply, "... your teeth."

"My teeth?"

I huff through my nose, "not a single person has come to interrupt us. Not even as you've pressed close and grabbed me."

Daemon raises his brows.

"I have been tirelessly pestered left and right with marriage proposals, only now have I known repose," I gulp, straightening up. "If I were to wed you, then my peace would be guaranteed."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"I would only be pestered by you and your concerns, but never would I have to frolic with ladies I do not care for, not engage in pleasantries with lords that make my skin crawl."

He narrows his eyes and presses close to me again. I let him this time.

He does not hesitate and grabs me by the waist, pulling me flush against his chest untill my senses are bombarded by nothing but him. My heart is thundering in my chest.

"You take me a fool to believe that's all you could want from me?"

I let out a shaky breath, "like you, I only speak plainly."

He makes a sound. He lifts his hand and drags his knuckles down my face. My skin pricks with gooseflesh. I cannot help that my hands come up to his chest and push him back again. This time, he does not relent or release.

I begin to panic, "I am the last of my house, its undisputable inheritor. There are no male heirs, no alliances, none other than that which would be borne out of my marriage. I-I would belong to you, wholly. And I-" I squeak when he pushes me into the table, "I would--"

Daemon mutters, "you would never know peace as my bride, foolish girl. There would be not a moment were hankering pricks ceased picking at your being, at your every move. You would bare the weight of the kingdom's qualms on your shoulders," he releases me, "and from that you would never know respite."

I heave as he steps away, eyeing me hotly, still. I swallow a thick knot in my throat, "b-but you would stand in its way."

Daemon's face contorts.

"And from what I know of you, prince Daemon, that is assured. I cannot say that for any other lord I've met."

When he walked away from me that moment, I felt an immense crash of shame and regret wash over me. Truly, I was a fool for thinking one such as the Rogue Prince could ever be persuaded only by words.

And yet an even more immense crash washed up when Daemon Targaryen came to formally ask for my hand. Even now, as he's whisked me off in what I will forever know as our shared chambers in the Red Keep, I was unsure what exactly this emotion was inside me.

Hard as I tried, I could not help my bodily reactions to his touch. I could not mask my shivering or flinching as Daemon undid the ties of my dress from behind.

I could not help the way I shriveled up when he leaned into my shoulder and whispered hotly there something I did not understand.

As my skin pricks, he pushes me toward our bed and I obediently lie on my chest as he brings me down. I feel my heart pounding against the mattress as he rids of my shoes and rakes his fingers up my legs from beneath my skirt. I muffle my whimper.

"I asked if you regret your decision, timid thing."

I shake my head and pipe up, "no."

I feel Daemon's hand on the back of my thigh, hiking up my bum. He mutters, "are you quite certain?"

I let out an almost pained sound, "perhaps we can... do this a-another time."

He throws my skirt over and digs his fingers into my smallclothes, "and why would we do that? That's a terrible idea."

I press my legs as tightly together as I could when he begins to pull my garments down. At some point I begin to wrangle my legs against him. I offer, "we- we have not spoken much!"

He grabs my legs and yanks me toward him to prove a point, "I assure you, you need not speak at all. In fact, I doubt you'll be able to."

I feel my face burn.

Soon enough, he works on my dress again, and the next thing I know, I am lying rigidly on my back in nothing by my shift.

He chuckles softly with the sound of ruffling clothing, "will you not even offer me your assistance, poppet?"

I suck in a breath for courage and turn to him. He was already undoing his breeches, and his chest was already bare. I look to the ceiling, "you're able bodied enough, husband."

Daemon laughs.

I close my eyes when I feel the bed dip. My heart hammers all over again.

"Open your legs."

I clench my jaw and gulp heavily. I drag my feet up and part my legs below my knees, thighs very much clamped shut. He laughs again as I feel his hand bunch my remaining clothes up to my hips. Daemon says, "you'll find I quite enjoy toughing it out."

When his hands press on my knees, I decide not to fight him when he pushes them apart. I feel him maneuver in between my limbs, "good girl."

He wraps my legs around him and comes upon me, sinking down to my neck to plant kisses there. Instinctively, my arms warp around him and my fingers dig into his frim flesh. I whimper manically when he ruts into me.

I did not anticipate that his kisses would trail down my body. By the time he reached my navel and his hands were practically prying my thighs apart, I grab at his hair and tug him up, "what are you doing?!"

My stomach rolls when he looks up at me and states, "you wouldn't survive if I roughed it out before I did this."

I don't get to reply as my words are pulverized into a yelp when I feel his fingers come to my pulsing core, "D-Daemon, what-"

"Shhh," he continues his descent as his fingers work into me, "your body knows what I am doing."

Daemon amuses himself with the sounds he gets from moving his fingers in and out of the wetness before him. "A crying virgin, you are," he notes. He laps at my weeping center. I whine at his burning hot breath when he speaks, "so dripping wet for nothing," he smirks, "so wet for me."

His motions feel deliberately as though he was stretching me out. And for every move he made, my voice and thighs react. He keeps me open with the weight of his arms pressing down on me. The sensation of his mouth and fingers leave me a shaking, whimpering mess.

I grip on his hair for dear life, and yet it does not even occur to me that I could be hurting him. I don't think I care, to be honest.

The only thing I get out of Daemon are a couple of grunts and many hot huffs.

The sound of me being worked on by him is absolutely obscene. And soon enough, my cries exceed that level of obscenity when I crumble into a rubble of throaty breaths and shivering pleasure. The feeling was nothing like I've ever felt before and it was mind breaking.

I tense tightly as croak at the delicious feeling coursing through me. My nails dig into his scalp. My thighs begin to shake.

Once I am out of breath and reeling, Daemon lifts his head and nips at my flesh, making my toes curl, "such an easy prize, aren't you? Barely took a second."

I dare to pry my screwed eyes open as my husband crawls over me and brings my shift up along with him. Helplessly, and rather deliriously, I lift up my hands and let him finally strip me naked. He throws my clothes off to the side and looms over my face, "how was that?"

I look up at him and, even with the haze in my mind, find embarrassment in how... how sloppy his face looked, gleaming under the dim lit room. I find myself unable to move.

He smirks and, sequentially, chuckles, "I told you so," he grabs my thighs, "not even a sound from my doe. Finger fucked silly."

A great many sounds do leave me when I feel a hard intrusion push into my tender folds. My breath catches in my throat and, by my ear, he whispers a string of curses. Daemon begins to slowly rock his hips, easing slowly but deeply into me.

"Daemon," I whine, arms clutching him tightly against me. He pushes my legs to my sides, folding me into such a vulnerable position. It gives him complete access to me d as he moves, he knocks into a nerve that makes my eyes roll back. The sounds that leave me become louder and deeper.

"Mmm, fuck, such a hot, little cunt," he hisses, "so soft," he harshly kneads my flesh, "my tight fuck pillow," he grunts, "hope you don't regret it."

Daemon's mouth finds mine, and the tangy taste all over his tongue and lips make my stomach coil in indescribable ways. My nails helplessly dig into the taunt base of his working spine. He groans into our kiss and moves faster.

I pull away from him, in desperate need for air and feel myself grow wetter and wetter all over, especially between my thighs.

"Tell me. Do you regret this? Would you have rather were talked like you wanted? Shall I pull out and stop fucking my stupid little wife?"

Daemon's hand finds my cheek and his thumb smears the slickness on my parted lips.

Much to both his enjoyment and annoyance, he receives no reply from me, and the only sound that ripples into the room is that of slapping skin and gutteral moans.

He drags the skin on my cheek back with his palm, "gonna need an answer, pretty girl, or else I'll fucking stop."

Hearing that and feeling him slow makes me sentient. I tighten my arms around him and rapidly shake my head as I desperately respond, "no. I don't- don't regret it. Pleasedonstop."

Daemon's ego is stroked and his thrusts pick up the pace.

The rapid shift of him barely being there to being filled to the hilt makes the corner of my eyes prick with water.

I call out his name and he dutifully hums, "mmm, shall I stop?"

"No! Please-"

"And why shouldn't I?" he growls, as if in anger, as if threatening to stop, though, in truth, his motions do not slow at all.

I cannot for the life of me think of a reason, nor can I even think, to be honest. Instead, I latch onto his shoulder, biting, kissing, and muffling my noises.

Daemon leans into me and answers himself, "s'it because I should take care of my things, hmm?" He pants, "you belong to me, don't you?"

"Yes, Dae- yes, yes, ye-"

He drags out a hum, "oh, I'd be so sorry to break my pretty thing, wouldn't I? So sorry to break you," he chuckles lowly, "shall I take care of you, sweetheart?"

I squeak, "mmm, please. Pleassse"

"Such good manners," he sighs, "so well-bred. So willing to be bred."

The second wave of pleasure that comes upon me is far more intense and far more tiring than the first. I practically stop breathing as I convulse around him. I squeeze him so tightly with both my arms, my legs, and my cunt that I possibly empty the air out of his lungs as well.

I call out his name as I shatter beneath him.

Eventually, his persistent movements relent as he, too, quakes, and sequentially lays heavily above me, catching his breath just like I was.

As my pulse thuds, and as I feel his thudding, both against my chest and in my womb, I begin to stroke his back gently, relishing in the feel of him, his hotness, his scent. I think about what he asked, if I regret this. I release a deep breath. Certainly, in this moment, there was not a lick of regret or doubt in me with him.

My eyelids are as heavy as my breathing. If this would be what's it's like to be his wife, to love him, then there would never be an inch of regret in me.

I vaguely feel Daemon kiss my jaw before rolling off.

[chiwi-la-capybara]

Yall ever think about how Herman Melville pioneered the trope there was only one bed?

“Landlord,” said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a snow-storm—“landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand one another, and that too without delay. I come to your house and want a bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half belongs to a certain harpooneer. And about this harpooneer, whom I have not yet seen, you persist in telling me the most mystifying and exasperating stories tending to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow—a sort of connexion, landlord, which is an intimate and confidential one in the highest degree. I now demand of you to speak out and tell me who and what this harpooneer is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe to spend the night with him. And in the first place, you will be so good as to unsay that story about selling his head, which if true I take to be good evidence that this harpooneer is stark mad, and I’ve no idea of sleeping with a madman; and you, sir, you I mean, landlord, you, sir, by trying to induce me to do so knowingly, would thereby render yourself liable to a criminal prosecution.”

“Wall,” said the landlord, fetching a long breath, “that’s a purty long sarmon for a chap that rips a little now and then. But be easy, be easy, this here harpooneer I have been tellin’ you of has just arrived from the south seas, where he bought up a lot of ’balmed New Zealand heads (great curios, you know), and he’s sold all on ’em but one, and that one he’s trying to sell to-night, cause to-morrow’s Sunday, and it would not do to be sellin’ human heads about the streets when folks is goin’ to churches. He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped him just as he was goin’ out of the door with four heads strung on a string, for all the airth like a string of inions.”

This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery, and showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling me—but at the same time what could I think of a harpooneer who stayed out of a Saturday night clean into the holy Sabbath, engaged in such a cannibal business as selling the heads of dead idolators?

“Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a dangerous man.”

“He pays reg’lar,” was the rejoinder.

...

“Landlord,” said I, “tell him to stash his tomahawk there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, and I will turn in with him. But I don’t fancy having a man smoking in bed with me. It’s dangerous. Besides, I ain’t insured.”

This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and again politely motioned me to get into bed—rolling over to one side as much as to say—“I won’t touch a leg of ye.”

“Good night, landlord,” said I, “you may go.”

I turned in, and never slept better in my life.

Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg’s arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate manner. You had almost thought I had been his wife. The counterpane was of patchwork, full of odd little parti-coloured squares and triangles; and this arm of his tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth of a figure, no two parts of which were of one precise shade—owing I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in sun and shade, his shirt sleeves irregularly rolled up at various times—this same arm of his, I say, looked for all the world like a strip of that same patchwork quilt. Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I could hardly tell it from the quilt, they so blended their hues together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I could tell that Queequeg was hugging me.

[thatbiblob]

so yall remember this ?

i drew it !! I based the tail pattern off a koi and didn’t necessarily have a reference for the fins

and ya know your blob had to give her lore :

lauren was considered a ‘rebellious’ mermaid. she never cared much for the fancy balls the royal family would hold. her interests were more focused on the humans above the sea. of course, she didn’t want to harm the humans she just wanted to learn more. all she heard growing up was that humans were monsters who only wanted to kill merfolk, that’s why the sirens would kill them; they were defending their fellow sea folk. lauren was smart enough to not actually go on land, no that was too dangerous. but she loved going to ship wrecks and fining all the little trinkets that humans had. she had a abnormal normal sized collection that she had gathered over the years that she showed to her friend lizzie. lizzie helped her take care of the collection and even started her own that the two would compare. they kept their collections in a hidden cave a while out of the city, that way no one would find them. until someone did.

[jonquilandlace]

My youtube is currently flooded with videos of either -gen alpha wishing they were teenagers during the pandemic -people roasting gen alpha for wishing they were teenagers during the pandemic

As someone who turned 21 during the pandemic, first off it definitely wasn't as romanticized as the people wishing they were teenagers during it are imagining it was (like. my dad tried making me a whipped coffee one time and failed lmao, it was super sweet but no we did not have whipped coffee daily. I never made sourdough. I was struggling through some of my hardest college classes, just now online, was realizing my career path was about to shift entirely (I wanted to be a doctor, folks! And then the pandemic made me realize I did NOT want to deal with either being in a lab or being someone who had to respond to these situations permanently!) and also would regularly have panic attacks on my mom at about 2 am because circadian rhythm was not a thing that exists when you don't go outside and whoops my anxiety meds wore off and I still am not tired! My grandpa died during COVID in a nursing home. He had dementia and absolutely did not know what was happening, but the last time we got to see him was two days before the lockdown began, and even that was because I had heard of a case in the next city over from us and knew we needed to go see him or else we wouldn't get to. Thankfully (I say somewhat bitterly) he wanted cremated, so we finally were able to have a funeral for him last summer. I was absolutely terrified that if anyone in my family got COVID, we would die. We didn't get it for almost a year and a half, but we were exposed twice, and I legitimately cried myself to sleep over it repeatedly.)

But that said. I also feel like,,, the other side of it isn't quite right, either? Like there are things about the pandemic that I do admit to fucking missing. I miss being able to embroider in class. I miss my mom and I doing donut and coffee runs at least every other day because the drive throughs were safe (PLEASE respect essential workers, yall, they got hit so unfairly by this and the things I miss of the pandemic are heavily based on me being middle class and thus having the privilege to benefit from their work). I miss my cat sitting on my lap during meetings, and staying up until 2 am on the regular listening to soundtracks of musicals I'd never heard of before because there wasn't something to interrupt it. My parents are among the lucky few who still get to work from home, but I miss the even slight relief the stimulus checks gave us. As someone whose closest friends have never lived close to me, who live even further now, I miss Zoom game nights that now no one really wants to do anymore. (I will admit for my friend group there might be other reasons, ha, but the essence remains.) I know aesthetics are still a thing, and still a thing getting roasted, but I even loved that first week back to in-person uni, when "style" was so non-homogenous suddenly, when there wasn't a real "trend" because in lockdown everyone had just... done what they wanted! I came back in full Dark Academia blazers and button downs, and I sat across from someone dressed proto-Y2K and someone in cottagecore in my first class, and the difference was so much bigger than what you'd think if I said the same now! I miss the boy in my virtual creative writing class whose gimmick it was to sit next to a halloween skeleton in a hammock like they were roommates! I miss Among Us and Minecraft nights. I miss the (pre-corporate) Ratatouille the Musical phase of tiktok! I miss the sea shanty era! I miss wildlife coming back through cities they hadn't been in in ages, and pollution fading to where cities could see the stars. I miss just... making the best of it!

And yeah, this is absolutely romanticism! It's absolutely a sign of my privilege! But god, it was wonderful to have all this darkness and to see so many people trying so hard to bring back the light! The pandemic fucking sucked! But the human spirit during it was so beautiful nevertheless!

[gogolstoelicker]

Oh sevens, i love your work keep it up hunny uh maybe a request about twisted wonderland, a chuuya like MC ?

Honestly i wonder how he/she/they interact with riddle

Dorm leaders with a Chuuya!MC

Warning(s): none

notes: CHUUYA NATION LET'S GOOOOO‼️‼️‼️‼️I WOULD LET THAT MAN CRUSH ME WITH GRAVITY

You're a temperamental and a rather arrogant, blunt individual. You revel in fighting, happy to show off your combative ability, and taking great pride in your reputation as the mafia's strongest martial artist.

For as hot-headed as you may seem, you're not impossible to reason with. In fact, you're rather reasonable when no one is pushing your buttons. Fierce in your loyalties, you find betrayal intolerable and treat your subordinates quite well.

Riddle:

stop picking fights with everyone that provoked u, will u?

he's having a headache

he have to collar u so many time

it may have stopped ur ability but it won't stop these foot‼️‼️

like dazai, he can probably stop corruption

only if its strong enough that is

i mean corruption is literally some god's power, how is anyone gonna cancel that unless they're really strong

but let's say he can bc i have some favoritism towards Riddle

then good for u!! he's now ur new partner in crime!!

like if there's an overblot and you're using corruption to defeat them? ace and deuce will bring riddle

you're insecure abt how u looked? riddle got yo back

he's not the best at comforting but he can try!!

riddle also tried to stop u from drinking alcohol

and from smoking when you're stressed

esp if you're underage, he would literally snatch that bottle or cigarette away from u and go 😠😠😠

^u got a very long lecture from him btw

overall, you guys got along great!!

u appreciate that he cares abt u so you're pretty loyal to him!!

u treat him pretty well, tried ur best to look out for him and help him in some ways

like hm? he says smth abt these guys not listening to him no matter what? well no worries, u can fight!!

he used u to fight some guys whenever there's those who's brave enough to go against him again and again

Leona:

was probably abt to fight him at the botanical garden when yall got interrupted

thankfully

looks like they could kill you and could actually kill you duo

you're probably his new rival or smth

all bc u accidentally stepped on his tail one time

u, on the other hand, also sees him as one just bc you're not one to back off a challenge

probably caught ur ass drunk one time

??where did u even got some alcohol???

oh well

now he always talks about the time u got drunk whenever u guys had your daily tongue fight

i meant bickering, not making out. sorry folks

u guys can make out with him in a different situation tho

and then u go 🤨😮😠

almost got into a fist fight when riddle stormed in like😠

so now you're 🕴and Leona's🙄

BUT AT LEAST HE STOPPED THE FIGHT YES⁉️WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD'VE HAPPENED IF THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN

Azul:

almost got beat up by you multiple times but u got held back by ur friends the same amount of times

saw ur gravity ability and so suddenly he's glad ur friend held u back

u probably used that gravity power against the twins at the coral sea

unfortunately, floyd thought the situation was interesting so his unique magic uh interrupted(?) yours?

they complained to azul after btw

azul went *pushes glasses👓 up*

"i see"

^his knees are shaking btw

from excitement that he wants ur ability? or from fear of that ability? he doesn't know

he genuinely wants to know more abt that ability of urs

oh dw he def don't have any ulterior motives abt it!!

😁

u probably don't click well?

bc from my understanding, chuuya doesn't like dazai bc of his strategic personality or smth

azul is pretty much the same

except he probably have more morals and emotions than dazai /hj

well he's added to ur dislike list ig?

Kalim:

starry eyed looking at you

kenji 2.0 ig

you've accidentally adopted him? congrats?

like you're literally his idol now

chuuya mc dancing to blackpink or twice HELPPP

ahem back to topic

whenever he saw u fighting, he's just so???? amazed???

who cares if you're kicking ass, you're just sO COOL

teach him some martial arts pretty please😊

you took HUGE pride in it so ofc‼️

jamil looking from the sidelines like🕴😐

well at least he doesn't need to deal with kalim's shenanigans since he's busy training with you

he would say he trust kalim in your hands if its not for the fact that you're literally a walking fighting machine who likes alcohol

yeah don't lie to him, both him and kalim caught u drunk one time too yknow😐

when jamil overbloted, u probably have this small feeling of 😠 esp for kalim's sake

DW U KNOCKED SOME SENSE INTO HIM FOR KALIM‼️LETS GOOO‼️‼️

Vil:

he really likes that you care about your appearance and tried to improve them each time🤗

look at the students in nrc who barely fit the bare minimum

and now look at u who tried to look ur best everytime

even so, he dislikes that you picked fights so easily

someone pisses u off? a foot is shoved in their face

anyone and literally anyone who pisses u off will have a foot shoved in their face

vil was probably almost one of the target

he's strong

BUT YOU'RE STRONGER LET'S GOOO💪💪‼️‼️‼️

IT'S LIKE A DRAGON BALL SCENE

don't ask me why an i comparing this to a dragon ball scene

but it's like 👊💥💥🦶

we can already guess who is who

for those who have an android, that's a foot btw

Idia:

finds out you're a clone for a god or like a god's vessel from listening in through the cctv since he's kind of curious about ur ability

(idk if cctv can do that i suck at technology but if cctv can't do that then let's say it's smth idia trampled with that made him able to listen in??)

now he's even more curious

God's vessel?? corruption?? clone??

looks at ortho

jkjk

he's really interested in how they made a clone that's so human like

but he doesn't really wanna go up tp u and socialize about it

he's not good at socializing so uh

he just gotta watch ur movement and pray for the great seven to suddenly make him confident and strike up a conversation to research about u???😊😊

whenever he saw u beat someone up from the cctv, he winced and felt a tiny bit of bad for the student you're beating up

probably caught ur ass drunk too LMFOAOAOA

he just finished gaming and instinctively look into the cctv

he's an empath

he can see u, drunk.

u fell into the fountain and mumbled something that he can't hear

it's his core memory now

Malleus:

aren't you a brave one, child of man?🤗

u probably picked a fight with him once u heard that he's THEE malleus draconia

like you know youre strong, he and u know HE'S strong

so like to test who's stronger, WHY NOT FIGHT IT OUT??:D

was kind of excited at first but then realized he shouldn't faught a human bc humans are fragile being

u going "I AIN'T EVEN HUMAN😠"

malleus:😮😃😄

SO THE DUEL DID HAPPEN‼️

damn u both crazy strong

lilia had to step in bc you both were so lost in the moment

all ur friends were shaking in their timbers

half of the training ground(?) is probably destroyed

you two are more than satisfied tho

ended with u two being best friends

u even brought ur wine to him‼️

where did u got that wine? hehe 😊

idk if malleus drinks tho

he probably became another responsible friend after riddle to watch u as u slowly go drunk

[bonny-kookoo]

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance,  Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Ten

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

waiting for stars to intertwine

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ a/n: totally forgot to add this to the masterpost. if you've read ch ten on ao3 already than ignore this update!! there's gonna be a wip coming yall's way soon too, so be on the look out for that!! <3 love you guys

☽ warnings: blood, self-harm mention, angst

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

Luca's heart hammered in his chest, the pain resurfacing, and no matter how hard he hugged his sides, trying to squeeze the heat  from inside of him like slippery seaweed, nothing worked. He swam past the island, to cooler, harsher waters, to his home--his actual home. Not whatever he was feeling when he was around Alberto; whatever sort of home that was.

He told Alberto. A monster. That was what he was. He wasn't human, and Alberto made quick use of that information by shoving him off his knees in one swift motion, and leaving his dried-out beach towel as a reminder of it. He told him. So why did he...let it get the best of him?

His head swam, a thick heat-haze clouding his thoughts as he neared the mossy structure, blinking in the darkening waters. Luca touched the edge of the cave entrance, and winced hearing his mother's sharp intake of breath at his presence outside the house. She appeared, followed by Lorenzo, glaring down at him.

"Uh..." Luca mumbled, his words slurred. The throbbing in his gut hadn't dissipated yet, and neither had the phantom-like trembling between his shorts. "...Hey mom? Can - Can I come in?"

Daniela assessed her son before her, the shine, the sweat from Alberto's dark skin had crept beneath his scales and made a home there in the crevices, like old sand. He breathed, and the older boy's (the human's, he corrected himself) smell came rushing back with full force. Immediate. Filling his lungs sweetly but enough that he spluttered on the bubbles slipping under his tongue.

"I told you," Daniela said sternly to Luca's father. "When am I ever wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" Luca's mind began to wander without any direction, aggressively going back to the one time when he was younger and would often forget his curfew at sunset, and Daniela had joked (or had she?) she'd send Luca to The Deep with his uncle if he didn't come home at a reasonable hour. "I know it's late, I'm sorry! I just caught up in something, I swear it won't happen again Mom!"

Lorenzo frowned from behind his wife and placed his webbed hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. It was an unspoken discussion translated between the tense water.

"No, 'Renzo! Don't start with this now! You smell it too!" Daniela growled, taking her son's arm and lifting him up in the water, sniffing his crown of blue fins. "So strong, it's a damned sailor's lighthouse beam!"

"And it's land monster too..." Lorenzo commented softly, scenting the air. Daniela's eyes widened in her anger and her grip on Luca tightened.

Her tone was dangerous, venom. "You went to the land monster town? Where there's humans? In your heat??"

"Mom, no--" Luca protested, her claws beginning to hurt from where they were grasping his shoulder.

"Don't interrupt!" She snapped back. Her tail thrashed in the water, making Luca tense even though his body was already on-edge. "You...You're gonna have to wait this out someplace else! We'll send for Ugo. I can't know that my baby was out there...doing things...with some filthy land monster girl."

"Boy."

Luca and Daniela turned to see Lorenzo, who flushed in embarrassment at getting noticed.

"What?"

"It's clearly a boy, Daniela," Lorenza swam closer and examined the fevered pink scales on Luca's waist and chest. "Smell it. It's...I don't know, hun. It's stronger, I guess. I know when there's a man on those land monster boats, and that," He pointed to Luca. "Is definitely a boy. Land monster. A boy-human, whatever."

Monster. A monster. That was what he was. Luca hovered above the long sea grass of their home, in awe. He could get all of that, just by smelling him?

Daniela's flashing yellow eyes brightened and she clamped her mouth shut, words coming out quick and held back. "That...That. Doesn't. Help."

She released Luca's arm and went to Lorenzo. Luca's tail curled protectively around his leg, trying to soothe himself.

"W-Wait! You can't just leave me out here!"

"We're not leaving you," Lorenzo replied simply. "But until your heat is over, you can't be around the other kids, Lu. It's better if you stay with your uncle Ugo until the Summer season is over."

They had gone. Luca watched, but didn't truly see his parents' figures fade into the darkness of the house, where they slept, and he remained awake.

"Stupid heat! I - I hate being like this!" Luca curled in on himself, claws raking his belly, long rutted cuts chasing his fingertips. The pain burned, deeper now with the thin streams of blood billowing up above his line of vision in watery red ribbons. He averted his wavering gaze, but the blood was everywhere, seeping into his very scales. Everything simmered, a constant feeling of dread and want that was unreachable, had no low point but only one shattering crescendo all throughout his body. Constantly. Searching for relief Luca  dug his claws into the pink scales deeper, stronger...

"Luca!"

"...Alberto?"

It was just a dream--or a memory. The clean tile walls of Alberto's bathroom came into focus, half-blurred from where he was lying, curled in a ball along the water in the bathtub. Alberto rose sleepily from the floor, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. At some point in the night bath towels were placed in the water for Luca, and though he didn't remember when it had happened, sifting through the weird reoccurrences of the day before, Luca knew Alberto had done it. He looked around in the stagnant bath water, to his abdomen, and the flakes of dry blood that floated across the shiny film of the surface like autumn leaves. He shivered.

The memories were short, hardly a scratch on Luca's conscious mind. Alberto had carried him all this way, from the boat into the house. A tiny serving dish once had peaches on it, but only smelled faintly of them now. Giulia's voice (what he could recall of it, trying to think back made his head hurt, everything hurt, really. He hardly remembered much of Giulia, except for her wild eyes and equally brazen red hair) was tender behind the door the night before, whispering and giggling to Alberto. She left to sleep, and Alberto stayed. He really, truly stayed. And the pain. The pain, the stupid sea-folk problems he couldn't just wait out or buddy up for--

"Are you okay?" Alberto put one cautious hand on the lip of the bathtub, eyeing him. Luca shook his head, as if to chase away the feeling, then realizing it actually translated as a no, Alberto I am anything but okay right now, he nodded his head with more urgency. He shifted in the water, the bath towels huddled around his body made a sort of nest, Luca noticed, even if he had been the one to do this. A nest, making a home for a mate, for love...even out of instinct. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did he even--

"If you say so," Alberto yawned and fell back onto the pillow he'd brought from his room, and tugged the blanket closer around his chest.

"You..." Luca tried, scanning the faded paint on the bathroom walls, the chipped mirror, the little smudge in ink over the medicine cabinet. He avoided looking at the crumpled blue tarp cast over by the toilet. "You stayed here? With me?"

"W-Well," Alberto spluttered, laughing a bit, not glancing at him. "I kinda had to. Cause, you know, no one knows you're here. And - and, my Papa had work today. Well he doesn't, not really. It's too early in the day for anyone to be open after yesterday, but he likes to be in the town with his buddies sometimes, when everyone else is asleep."

I kinda had to. Like he was...liable. He was just a...what was the word Giulia used? A little pet.

"Oh. Right, okay," Luca said absently, tracing his claw on the edge of the tub. Monster. Stupid monster. Dumb heat. Animal. Stupid, horrible, disgusting--

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Where's Giulia?" Luca asked finally, maybe a little too quickly.

"Oh! She's uh...probably still sleeping."

"I'm sorry, Alberto."

"Do you maybe want to, um...talk about it?"

Luca put his chin on the edge of the bathtub. "About what?"

"The uh...back at the island--" Alberto wrinkled his nose and stared at his knees.

"Not yet." He felt Alberto's green eyes on his scales, whispering, prodding ever so softly. But he just wasn't ready.

"Hey, it's okay," Alberto leaned down and put his head at eye-level with Luca. "It's a sea monster thing, right?"

Luca nodded, wiping his flushed face. He couldn't cry, sea-folk weren't designed for something like that, but the burning in his eyes sure felt like he was.

"We have things like that, too. For humans, I mean." Luca hated that Alberto used that word, it was...a barrier. Human. Alberto blushed and looked away. "It's pretty embarrassing, actually. But, we go through it too, you don't have to feel so alone...It's normal."

"But..." Luca mumbled, his hands clenched beneath the water. But what I did...It was gross. Why haven't you left yet? Why aren't you turning me in? I'd be worth a lot of money above the water, I'm sure. Alberto? Are you even listening? Take me away! Send me to The Deep--

"Don't be sad."

"I'm not." He muttered.

"We can do something else," Alberto said back, sitting up now to straighten out his blankets. "And if you want to talk about it later, then you can. Since you're...uh...sounding a bit more present now.

"Okay...What is it?"

He watched him rise off the floor and gather the blanket and pillow to his chest, and head for the door. Alberto looked back over his shoulder, smiling now.

"As long as you don't eat it...We can paint?"

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter eight: the living sea of waking dreams

word count: 10k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: emotional manipulation/some weird humiliation tactics (joseph is a fucker), some weird/uncomfortable relationships getting dredged up, john is a jealous little shit. some spooky scaries go on, blood and body horror (i think? tagging just to be safe).

notes: we've got some ~things~ going on here in this next chapter. i feel really excited about where this story is going and how we're going to get all these little threads put together, but mostly, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! we've got a lot going on but i promise, it will all (hopefully) be worth it in the end. and also, a tiny reprieve: some soft elliot, as a treat, because we deserve it.

thank you to everyone reading and giving me your feedback!! i love hearing from yall <3 special thanks to @shallow-gravy​ and @vasiktomis​​ for listening to me slog through this chap : ))))

“Knock-knock!”

Isolde took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing patience to the forefront of her mind. It had only been an hour or so since she’d left the chapel, Joseph’s words ringing in her head, a death knell.

Not after the things I’ve done for you.

Even still, even now—he knew how to get under her skin. She thought she’d never wanted to kiss and throttle someone in equal amounts, in the entirety that she had known them; to think that once, she had let Joseph take her in an embrace, sweep the hair from her shoulder and bury his face in her neck and whisper sweet things into her skin.

He wasn’t the same, anymore. And neither was she.

“Come in, Santiago,” said Arden, from where she had set up her little space across the cabin’s modest room. The heater on the floor rattled laboriously, clicking and chugging away. Isolde swept her eyes over Arden’s space—a small makeshift bed on the couch, the table stacked with a few books and a notepad she was scribbling dutifully on. Isolde had politely offered her the bed, even though she didn’t want to, and the woman had waved her off and said it was no trouble at all, that she often fell asleep on the couch at home anyway.

It was still weird, thinking that someone was—with Jacob. For a long time. But, she supposed if there was any Seed boy she thought would be in a long-term relationship, then—

The door to the cabin swept open, revealing the dark-haired boy from before. Well, perhaps not boy, but young man. Certainly too young and good-looking to be wasting his time with the likes of Eden’s Gate, wasn’t he?

“You don’t have to babysit me anymore, do you?” Arden asked, not once looking up from her writing.

“No, no. Unfortunately, our time together has drawn to a close.” Santiago lifted his arms, spread in defeat. His eyes, a vibrant blue, turned to Isolde. “I am actually here for you.”

“Me?” Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“Joseph has asked me to fetch you.”

“And you’re a good boy, so you do whatever he says,” she replied tartly.

Santiago flashed a grin that was all teeth-pearly, perfectly bleached teeth. He was far more groomed than any of the others she’d seen trawling about the compound. “I am nothing if not loyal, princesa.”

Isolde sighed, passing a hand over her face as a headache began to fester and bloom behind her eyelids. She thought she might have been more willing to kick up a fuss if she thought it was worth the drama—but it probably wasn’t. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Joseph was right; she couldn’t be of any help to them if she was being contrary just for the sake of her own spite. Even if she didn’t know where Joseph got off summoning her like she was part of the peasantry.

“Coming,” she sighed, picking her coat up off the bed and sliding it back on over her shoulders.

“A sweet word, coming from even sweet lips.”

“Alright, Romeo.”

She trudged out after Santiago in the snow, casting a quick glance around the compound. Though evening had fallen, the fluorescents surrounding lining the edges of the compound cast a cold, brutal light across it, highlighting every single pore of the place, every ragged inhabitant shuffling into their bunkhouse as watch switched and folks went to retire for the evening. Some of the roofs sagged with the weight of the snowfall, which trundled on without any kind of end in sight. Isolde couldn’t remember when she’d seen real, unadulterated sunshine last. In Georgia? Had it been that long?

None of it was anything like what John had told her. Of course, she had expected some differences—the man liked to embellish, to be sure—but the members of Eden’s Gate seemed to have lost their fire. They were wayward, adrift at sea, among waves of freezing cold water and what now seemed to be a resurgent threat that they had hoped to be rid of.

And Joseph, having comforted them so very little.

“Icy,” Santiago warned, offering her his hand as he opened the door inside with his other one. “Careful.”

“Thanks,” she muttered dryly. She took his hand anyway, pulling herself into the sputtering warmth of the chapel where—at the front—the silhouettes of Jacob and Joseph stood.

The two of them were suffused in a warm amber glow, but there was nothing warm about the mood in the room; the closer she got, she could hear Jacob’s insistent words—the firm, assertive gestures of his hands, the words, just didn’t feel like it was pertinent at the time, coming out of his mouth—the more she thought, I shouldn’t be here for this. Whatever they’re arguing about, whatever it is that’s gotten them to this point, I’m not supposed to be here.

Joseph didn’t respond to whatever it was that his brother was saying, but instead turned to look at her as she approached down the center aisle of the chapel. Despite the rattling warmth coming from several heaters placed throughout the chapel, Isolde felt a chill sink deep into the marrow of her bones.

“Thank you for coming,” he said by way of greeting. He lifted one hand and beckoned her forward when her feet slowed.

“I just hope this is something I need to be here for,” Isolde ventured cautiously, her gaze flickering to Jacob’s face. The redhead’s expression was drawn tight and hard, and not the way it normally was; it wasn’t calm and focused, but strained, like he was holding himself back from saying something to Joseph that he thought he might regret later.

She had never known Jacob to bite his tongue very much, but from her own experience with Joseph, well—he was apt at bringing out the worst in people.

“Did you know?” Joseph asked when she had finally come to a stop. “About my brother’s...” He wet his lips for a moment, his gaze darting across the empty space of the floor as he looked for the word he wanted to say. And then he landed: “Pursuits?”

Isolde blinked. “If you mean the woman he says is his partner—”

“Yes,” the blonde interjected, before she could finish—a thing he knew that she hated but he seemed unable to refrain from doing. “I do.”

Sol’s eyes narrowed. When she turned her gaze from Jacob to Joseph, she was greeted with the typical unreadable expression; as untroubled as the blue sky over a sunny sea.

But there were storm clouds. Somewhere, in there, on a horizon Joseph would not let her reach now and perhaps had not ever.

“I only knew of her today,” Isolde replied after a moment. “After we saw our little hunter out in Fall’s End, I imagine he felt it pressing that he retrieve her sooner rather than later.”

Joseph made a low noise. It was like a hm, but threatening. Hm, he said, interesting, that. But what it was he felt was so interesting about that particular line of information, Isolde couldn’t only venture a guess; and if she had to venture a guess, she would have said that it would probably be that he felt it was interesting that something was going on that he had not been aware of.

If there was one thing that she knew about Joseph, affirmatively, it was that he did not like not knowing.

“Isolde, why are you here?”

A familiar spark of anger lit, hot and fetid, in her belly. “Pardon me?

“Why are you here? In this compound? In Hope County?” Even as he spoke, Joseph’s gaze was fixed on the eldest Seed, the lines of his face peaceful and serene despite the idle venom burning in the timbre of his voice. “What did John send you here for?”

The anger burned up into soot, into dread, and sat just there, curled at the base of her neck. Isolde could not shake the idea that she had been brought in here to make a point, and that she really shouldn’t be there—that this was something Joseph and Jacob needed to settle between themselves, but that was never how Joseph had operated: fair had never been a stratagem in his playbook.

“Isolde,” Jacob said, his voice a low caution when she looked at him, shaking his head very slightly. It’s not worth it, he was saying, fighting, it’s not worth it.

“Joseph, this,” she plunged on pointedly, “is not something that I need to be a part of. I’ll go, so the two of you can—”

But when she went to depart, Joseph lifted his hand and pointed at her and ground out between his teeth, “Stay. Put.”

The poison in his voice was so potent it almost made her flinch. Almost. And then the indignation started to bloom: who do you think you are, to be talking to me like that? But they wouldn’t come; the words wouldn’t come, because when she lifted her gaze to Joseph’s and saw him looking at her, it was—

“I want you to say it, out loud, in front of Jacob,” he continued, the muscle of his jaw flexing viciously. “Tell him why John needed you here.”

Jacob said, raising his voice a little, “We all know why—”

“Because you are useless unless you are aware of what’s happening. Every detail. Isn’t that right?” he prompted. “Isolde?”

She felt her molars grind. It was clear, now, why he had asked her here. “Yes.”

Joseph turned his gaze to Jacob. “Is that what you want us to be? Want me to be? Ill-informed?”

The redhead was silent for a long heartbeat. He sucked his teeth, and said, “No, Joseph, I don’t—”

“No. More. Secrets.”

The blonde’s voice had pitched so low that she nearly couldn’t hear him, so close and low and intimate was it that he was speaking to his brother, so little space between them. Joseph looked to be controlling himself quite tightly; so very little of the leash available to himself, digging the choke chain deeper and deeper into him in an effort to remain intact.

“Joseph,” Jacob began, “I only—”

“A whole year?” the blonde bit out viciously. “An entire year you spent devoting your time to this—this—”

Isolde was familiar with the precipice at which Joseph was teetering. Right on the edge of saying something vicious and mean and unendingly cruel. She had pushed him there a few times before, in their brief few months together—had seen the way he pulled himself back time and time again, seconds away from grinding out some wretched insult.

“I won’t,” Joseph bit out, lifting a hand as though to temper himself, “tolerate it, Jacob.”

Silence stretched between the three of them for a moment, pulled taut as a rubber band. Though she knew why Joseph had wanted her here—to make a point, but also to put someone there to witness the verbal lashing—looking at the two of them now, she felt more than ever like an intruder on a world she knew so very little about.

John had done nothing to prepare her. He had given her the rosy version of the story, and even that included the cult and the killing and the residents of Hope County. It still hadn’t been enough.

The silence broke when Jacob said, “I understand, Joseph.”

For a second, there was nothing; just Joseph, sweeping his gaze over Jacob for a long moment, like he was trying to wring out any deception or sign that Jacob was being disingenuous—and of course, he could find none, and that meant there was only the tense, uncomfortable silence wadded up between them, in their own fists.

Finally, Joseph said, “That will be all,” and turned, tilting his face to the lukewarm light of the candles at the front of the chapel and closing his eyes.

The eldest Seed lingered for only a moment longer before he left; his eyes met with Isolde’s for a heartbeat before he made his decision, turning down the center walkway and heading for the doors. It wasn’t until they clicked shut that Isolde felt a tiny bit of relief—if only because the source of Joseph’s ire had now departed, and she could get a better look at him.

It was her job to make sure things were under control. John had asked her here for that exact reason—and this kind of in-fighting would be the kind of thing that would, eventually, be their unraveling if they didn’t get it under control. She had only seen Joseph so angry once before, almost over a year ago now, back before he was the Father of Eden’s Gate. Back when they had been—

There are things that I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—

“Joseph,” Isolde said, leaving the memory somewhere else—somewhere dark and deep she would never find it again, “what’s going on?”

The blonde did not open his eyes when he replied, “I cannot have secrets kept from me.” After a moment, he added, “And in that vein of thought, I should get in touch with our wayward brother.”

“Do you really think it’s that big of a deal?” she prompted again. “To have started a fight with Jacob over a woman that he—”

“Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.” His eyes fluttered open, the flicker of dark lashes illuminated by the amber glow, and he tilted his head to look at her. There was a hardness in his voice when he said, “God is perfect in knowledge, and I cannot be less. Not when He speaks directly to me.”

An unpleasant little thrill crawled down her spine when his eyes fixed on her, darting over her face like he wanted to savor her. “Then don’t use me as the whip you want to lash your brother with,” she snapped. “I’m not a humiliation tactic. You do know better than to do that to me.”

Joseph let out a little sigh. The corners of his mouth ticked upward, the shift in mood almost palpably changing the energy in the chapel—just like that, it was different. Not lighter, not better, but different.

“You’re right,” he agreed after a moment. “I do know you better than that.”

Isolde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Deciding to forego that comment, she took a step forward, cinching her jacket in more securely around her waist. “You know what you cannot be, Joseph?” she asked. “You cannot be fighting with your brothers. Especially not the only one that’s here. Your people out there are disgruntled, and scared, and you can’t afford to be picking fights with the people who are the most loyal to you.”

“They are all,” Joseph replied, “loyal, Isolde." And then, after a moment of watching her: "Is this what you want to be doing? Herding us? Mothering us?”

“My professional opinion is that the image of your convent is severely lacking,” she bit out, once again ignoring the bait, “and the last thing you need to do is have them noticing that there’s a rift forming between the ones in charge. And yes—that is the only thing I can do for you lot at this point, and like an idiot, I agreed to come here and do it.”

Because I can’t say no to John, something tired inside of her said. Because I couldn’t say no to any of you, even if I wanted to.

The blonde reached up, and it took that gesture for Isolde to realize how closely they had drifted—it was so little effort, so little time between the movement of his hand and the time at which his fingers made contact with her cheek, brushing the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He moved so confidently and leisurely that Sol couldn’t think to pull back; and when she didn’t, the calloused fingertips trailed down the pillar of her throat, his eyes following their journey.

It was intimate; too soon her brain said, even though it had been so long since they had been in the same room, let alone regarded each other in even a passive capacity. But it was too soon enough that her brain fizzed out, the air moving thick as molasses in the journey between her mouth and lungs, the violent flashback of their closeness overwhelming her.

She said, “Joseph,” in a don’t kind of voice, and he dropped his hand from where it had come to a stop at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“It was smart of John, to ask you to come and shepherd us in his absence,” Joseph said, blithely ignoring the desperate little barb in the way Isolde said his name.

“I always thought you’d make a perfect Mother.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been several days since their conversation in the hallway that night, and John had barely seen hide nor hair of Elliot.

Honestly, it would have been impressive how quickly she could make herself inaccessible, were it not so frustrating. He couldn’t help but wonder what the implications there were—had she known she could do this all along, and had been indulging in him for some reason? Had she simply decided to be done and that was it, meaning that she hadn’t been done before?

Not that she was done now, anyway. Not if John had anything to say about that. But for a few days, she barely spared him a glance—passed him in the hallway when she got home with a muttered greeting on occasion. She woke before him, left to the stables without him, and left him alone in the house. Left him alone without her venom, without her eyes on him. With her mother, no less.

Scarlet was, on paper, exactly the kind of woman that John felt confident in his ability to charm. Single, wealthy by inheritance, a little older and always with a martini in hand by ten? If he couldn’t impress her, he had to be doing something wrong. But in a way that seemed to be very typical of the Honeysett women, Scarlet remained veritably unimpressed and even disdainful of his presence—even though she had insisted he stay with them.

More and more, he was becoming convinced that it was not going to be to his benefit.

“Good morning, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet greeted him from where she sat at the table, perusing her magazine. Not once did her eyes lift to meet his, and not once did an ounce of enthusiasm enter her voice. “You are missing from the stables again today, I see. Not a horse person?”

“I might find myself to be one,” John replied with a leisurely sort of bitterness, “if Elliot would only allow me to come.”

“Yes, it’s very annoying, isn’t it?” The blonde mused idly, over her cup of coffee. “To not be handed exactly what you want when you want it?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, pouring himself a cup of coffee and trying to remind himself that this was all temporary. This house, this town, Scarlet and Sylvia and Wyatt—it was all temporary, and soon enough they would be the least of his concerns. All of his time and attention would be wrapped up in Elliot and the baby, and what their lives would look like once the end had come.

Because it would come, and then she would see. She would understand that everything he’d done had been for them, for her and their baby and—

“I only want to spend as much time with her as I can,” he replied, managing to keep his tone pleasant. “Before I go back home.”

“And when are you?” Scarlet idled. “Going, I mean?” And then, in what he could only think was a stretch of graciousness: “Not that you’ve overstayed, because I am sure you would never, and Delia is quite taken with you—”

“Surely.”

“—as is Elliot, despite her best efforts to act otherwise.”

“What?” John’s head snapped to where Scarlet was still browsing her magazine, and he cleared his throat at her arched brow to try and gather his scrambled thoughts. “What I mean is, has she—said anything to you about me?”

The blonde at the table, swathed in her silk robe and curls primly pinned back away from her face, made a sound that might have been amused. Might have been, anyway, had he not turned to look at her and seen the way her face remained serene and unexpressive.

“I am not blind, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet idled. “It takes very little investigation to find that my daughter is fond of you, against my wishes and her own.”

Before John could open his mouth to respond—and press for more information while his stomach did victorious little somersaults—she turned her head to the window, when the sound of a vehicle rolling up the drive spurred Boomer on to barking in the front room.

“Oh, would you look at that,” she murmured with a little sigh. “My prodigal child, returned home at last.”

He glanced out the window to see an unfamiliar car pulling up, a black truck that took the fresh snow of the unplowed drive to the Graves-Honeysett home with ease; from the driver’s side hopped a familiar face.

“Didn’t Elliot drive there this morning?” he asked, frowning as he watched Wyatt jog around to the passenger side despite Elliot’s waving from the front for him to stop. The man had been nothing but polite—even enthused—to meet him at the bar the other night, but that didn’t mean John had forgotten the way he’d gotten comfy enough to try and touch Elliot’s face and her hair. Even now, the man grinned, all sunshine, as he opened the passenger side door for her and offered her his hand.

Scarlet replied, her attention already having departed the window, “What a silly question to ask out loud, Mr. Seed. You're not stupid, so I would beg you—try not to give me that impression.”

His eyes darted to Scarlet for a moment, briefly grateful that she wasn’t looking at him to see the spark of irritation winding its way across his face; he could feel it furrowing his brows, drawing his mouth into a hard, tight line. Setting his coffee cup on the counter, John made his way out the front door just as Wyatt and Ell were nearly there.

“Oh, hey John!” Wyatt greeted him. His eyes swept over him briefly. “Boy, you’re really put together any chance you get, huh?”

“You can never be overdressed,” John replied as amicably as he could. “Watch the steps, Ell, they’re—”

“Icy, I know,” Elliot said. She puffed out a little breath of air and brushed his offered hand aside, instead favoring the railing with one hand and the top of Boomer’s head with the other, still refusing him the courtesy of meeting his eyes. It had been days. She had never once held such a grudge against him—not really, not where he couldn’t at least get her to give him the time of day.

“Where’s the Jeep?” he asked, his voice coming out a bit tighter than he would have liked as she brushed past him. “Surely you didn’t have Wyatt ferry you out here for fun.”

“Tire’s flat,” she snipped. “Would you prefer I walked?”

“You could have called.” He took in a sharp little breath, willing the accusation away. “I would have been more than happy to pick you up, Ell.”

“Don’t have a cell phone,” Elliot replied flatly. “And Wyatt was already there.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Wyatt interjected hurriedly, smiling at John with pearly whites on display. “I had to come into town anyway, and it was gonna be hours before the mechanic could get out there.”

“Well, it was very kind of you all the same,” John said with a smile that felt like it pulled too tight across his face, a smile that was harder and harder to maintain with every passing second that Wyatt West put his baby-blues on Elliot. And that was often; the blonde looked a little sheepish when his gaze met John’s, drawn away from the redhead who was readily retreating into the house.

“Like I said, wasn’t any trouble. Always happy to help,” the blonde insisted, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Yes,” John replied pleasantly, “I can see that.”

Wyatt blinked, flushing. “Anyway, uh...Have a nice day, John. And you too, Freckles!”

He waved before turning on his heel and heading back to the truck. As soon as the driver’s door closed and he was starting to pull away, John turned to see Elliot watching him, her eyes narrowed.

“‘I can see that’?” She scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, are we talking now?” His brows lifted, head tilting. “So kind of you, to grace me with eye contact when you’ve been storming around the last few days—”

“Don’t be a fucking baby,” Elliot snapped. “My life does not revolve around you. Especially when I can’t seem to figure out why the fuck you drove all the way here just to sulk around.”

“Perhaps it should at least be in my orbit,” John replied tersely, “considering that we are having a child together.”

“You—”

Elliot sucked in a sharp breath, clamping her mouth shut as she looked at him. There was a very brief moment where she looked like she wanted to say something, and very badly, but instead, the corner of her mouth ticked upward and she turned on her heel to walk inside without saying a word.

“It’s a cute nickname,” John continued tartly as he trailed after her. Don't walk away from me, don't, you owe me at least your attention. “Freckles. Do you prefer that one over Miss Honey?”

She closed the door behind her, promptly and without hesitation, letting it rattle in the door frame and in his face. He sucked in a sharp breath, passing a hand exhaustedly over his face.

Impudent. Surly. Ferociously, viciously, wretchedly stubborn. He knew this about her—had known this about her—and yet at every opportunity, she proved his idea of her correct, and he found himself getting more and more frustrated. It wasn’t fair, that even those moments of her attention still felt good, that the sting of her venom held some satisfaction for him, like he was addicted to it.

If she would just, came the thought, rolling over and over. If she would, if she would just, if she would just—

But just what? Just stop being that way? Would he have even liked her if she were not this purposefully obstinate problem to solve?

“No,” he sighed to himself, raking his fingers through his hair. “No, I wouldn’t.”

The reward would just have to be all that much sweeter in the end.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Three hours later, Elliot had forced herself to come to a decision.

She waffled on it for a while—going back and forth as she showered, scrubbing her hair and trying to let the hot water ease some of the growing aches and pains—and did her best to ignore the way something a little wicked chattered happily inside of her at the knowledge that John’s eyes had been sparking with jealousy. It felt immature, to like watching him squirm; more apparent than ever, too, was that old habits died hard.

There was a sick kind of satisfaction that came with finding John’s buttons and pushing them. It had felt the same way, back in Hope County—when he’d been burning with irritation and jealousy that Joseph had gotten her confession, not him, that she wouldn’t tell him what it was, pushing and pushing and jamming her finger into that button until he finally snapped and—

Kissed her.

That’s not what I’m trying to do, she thought, a little defiantly as she looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom; tracing the WRATH scar, looking down to realize that there was, in fact, a baby bump. Oh, God, wasn’t that something fucking dreadful? Too real, but even still she’d known it was coming—worn looser, heavier clothes. She’d tried so hard not to look at herself in mirrors as of late that doing so now made her feel like she was looking at a stranger.

I’m not trying to get him to kiss me—the opposite, actually, I’m just trying to get him to fucking lay off for a minute—

And yet, as she found herself standing outside of the door to John’s room, her chest felt a little tight and her heart was doing that funny thing it liked to do when he was around; fluttering, leaping against her ribs, begging for attention. Elliot could have argued that it was just muscle memory at this point, that she had spent enough time around John letting him touch her and kiss her and say sweet things into her neck that her body was only working off of its basest instincts, and that was why she was feeling this way.

Clearing her throat, Elliot knocked on the door and said, “John?”

There was the sound of shuffling on the other side, and then his voice drifting to her: “Yes, Elliot?”

“It’s time for my appointment,” she managed out lamely. It felt even more stupid, saying it now, after she’d made such a big show of marching off after he’d committed to his display of jealousy. “Since the Jeep’s still waiting to get the tire fixed, do you think you could—”

The door swung open; John’s eyes flickered over her for a moment, his head tilting just before his mouth curved into a pleasant little smile that was two parts triumph and one part spite.

“What’s this?” he asked. “You need my help with something?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be an asshole, John.”

“I would never.” He propped himself up against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Wyatt’s taxi services currently unavailable?”

Already, she was regretting her decision—it had felt important, to have him along, but now she thought maybe she had been too forgiving for having forgiven anything at all.

“The appointment might be the one we figure out the baby’s gender, fuckface,” she snapped, “and since Wyatt’s not the baby’s father, I figured maybe you’d want to come in for this appointment, because it wouldn't feel right not to at least ask if you wanted to. Don’t worry though, I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.”

“Wait!” The exclamation stopped her mid-turn from his door, the feeling of his fingers brushing the palm of her hand making her jerk out of his reach instinctively. John exhaled through his nose, and when she looked him with narrowed eyes and her arms crossed, he said, “I do want to—I want to come.”

“You sure aren’t acting like it.”

“I—Ell, I haven’t heard the baby’s heartbeat a single time,” he insisted, a little frantic. “I’ve respected that you didn’t want me there the last time, and you know, when I wasn’t here before is another thing, but finding out the gender and getting to hear the heartbeat—” He stopped, sighing. “I’m...”

Though there was a bit of pain stinging in the cavity of her chest at his earnesty, Elliot steeled herself, keeping her expression tight. “You’re what, John?” she prompted. She half-expected another blow-up; I’m the baby’s father, that baby is mine, I deserve this, it’s mine.

But instead, John’s mouth twisted and he said, “I’m—sorry.”

Elliot blinked. Had she ever heard John apologize? For anything, ever? And sincerely? She couldn’t recall a day or time in memory—and though her memory was spotty at best these days, she thought for certain that was something she would have remembered. Even when they’d been going to bury Joey, she wouldn’t let him get the words out.

“Uh,” she said very intelligently, “what?”

“I’m sorry,” John repeated, appearing a little frustrated at having to repeat himself. He shifted on his feet. “I want to come to the appointment. I mean—” And then, in what surely must have been pure agony: “Please let me come to the appointment.”

It felt so odd to hear the words coming out of his mouth that she could only blink rapidly and say, “Um, okay,” before turning and quickly heading down the hall and to the stairs. It had been her intention all along to ask John if he wanted to come to the appointment, to see the baby on the screen and find out the gender together—because despite his petty jealousy over someone he didn’t need to be concerned about in the least, and despite his insistence that he was the only person capable of loving her, she did see him making an effort instead of yanking her all the way to the other side. Even if it was a minute, tiny effort; it was an effort nonetheless.

“We’ll have to take your car,” Elliot said uneasily over her shoulder, pulling on her coat quickly. “And it’s soon, so—”

“Making haste,” John agreed from beside her. He reached over her shoulder to pull his own coat off of the rack. It wasn’t lost on her, then, that weeks ago he had gone to reach for her shoulder and she’d about jumped out of her skin; now, the smell of his cologne and his voice close to her ear was almost comforting, in an entirely self-indulgent way.

If she just broke it down to the piece of John she loved the most—his voice and the way the cologne smelled when it was on him, and the way it felt when his hands traced the scars on her hips, and the boyish grin he’d flash her—then maybe it could work. Then, maybe, things would have been fine.

But that’s not love, something inside of her said, as she made her way out the front door and to the car. John says he loves all the wretched things about you. Did you forget?

No. No, she had not forgotten the way John had kissed her when she had blood on her mouth, or the way he’d said, I would’ve fucked you there, or how it felt when he buried his face into her neck and said her name in a voice so broken she thought she might be holy.

“Too hot?” John asked, and she realized she was sitting in the car—that she had checked out halfway out the door—and they were now down at the end of the drive.

Elliot swallowed. Her face felt hot, and now it was not only because of her mind’s wanderings but also because she had been caught daydreaming.

“No,” she said, sinking back against the passenger seat. “No, it’s fine.”

He watched her for a moment before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. She took a quick glance around the car; it was older, and sort of a beater. The kind of shitty Honda civic she’d see peeling out on the highway at 3AM because some idiot teenager thought she wouldn’t pull them over if the roads were empty. He’d probably lifted it on his way out of town to keep a low profile.

Her foot nudged something solid as she stretched out. Over the sound of the radio rattling and fuzzing tiredly, she heard a dull thunk. She squinted. It was a book. Unconditional Parenting.

“Jesus,” John muttered, “for a town this small, this traffic is a nightmare.”

“What?” Elliot asked, quickly averting her eyes from the book, feeling like she’d just rifled through someone’s personal drawer. “Oh, um—it’s a tourist town. People come here for the Christmas lights. They do like a whole lighting festival with that big tree in the square every night for weeks before Christmas.”

“And that’s why I can’t find parking.”

“That’s why you can’t find parking.”

He shot her a wry smile, taking a second loop around the square and a bit slower this time. Elliot turned her attention back out the window, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it—Unconditional Parenting. How long had he been reading baby books? Why was he so confident he’d get the chance to be a parent, anyway?

When he finally pulled into a parking spot, he let out a breath of relief. “How are we on time?”

Ell glanced at the car’s radio. “Ten minutes early,” she replied after a moment. “Right on time.”

“Great.” John paused. When neither of them moved to get out of the car, he cleared his throat and said, “So, what do you think?”

“About?” Elliot prompted. “The lighting festival?”

“What do you think baby is?” he clarified. Absently, he worried his thumbnail into the rubber of the steering wheel. “The lighting festival in a tourist town is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Well, it should be on your mind,” she replied, a little petulant. “I think it’s nice, for the record. All of the vendors come in from out of town and even though the traffic’s a nightmare, it’s good business for the town and everyone’s always been respectful of it. Plus, the lights are nice.”

She paused, and when she looked at John, he was grinning at her. He seemed to be enjoying her firm defense of the lighting festival.

“And I think baby is a boy,” she added after a minute, pulling at a loose thread on her sweater. “Just my gut feeling.”

He seemed pleased by her answer, but if he actually was she couldn’t have said why; it was nearly impossible to read John sometimes, but especially in moments like this, in uncharted waters for them both. She lingered for a moment before she unbuckled and said quickly, “Anyway, we should probably go,” pulling herself out of the warmth of the car and into the chilly afternoon.

She wanted to go back to being angry. She wanted to go back to hating John, to being disgusted by him, to relishing in making him suffer, even just a little—but it was like her brain had reverted back to her neanderthal roots. Baby daddy reads parenting books, makes him a good father.

The sooner the moment was over and done with, the sooner she could go back to wallowing on the ways John had wronged her, instead of the ways he made her happy.

By the time they were back in the room, Elliot sitting on the end of the little bed and John in the chair under a pregnancy poster—Pregnant or thinking of getting pregnant? 3 things to discuss!—she had nearly steeled herself. If she just sat there, and replayed the last three months in her head, and reminded herself of all the reasons why she had left John behind in the first place, she would be just fine.

And then the door opened, and Dr. Harding stepped inside, and looked between Elliot and John with surprise.

“Hello, Elliot,” Harding greeted. “I see we’ve a guest today?”

“This is John,” Elliot said, trying not to sound too miserable given the riotous state of her brain. “This is the, uh—he's the father.”

John stood quickly, holding out his hand. “John Seed.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Harding,” she said, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Excited? Elliot’s told you we might find out the gender today, yes?”

“Yes and yes,” John confirmed, sounding more and more like the kind of man she had fallen for and less like the egotistical psycho she’d turned in to the government. Right, the one that had lied, and coerced, and perhaps knowingly drugged her. She couldn’t afford to forget that bit.

As Elliot went through all of the normal questions—have you been eating well, yes, I see you haven’t lost weight, yeah, how is the sleep, it’s fine—she held on tight to that little thread of knowledge. John was here because she was letting him, not for any other reason, and it did feel good to know that this whole time he’d played by her rules. As much as he could have, anyway, showing up at her house unannounced.

She settled back against the propped back, grimacing as she shimmied the hem of her sweater up and Harding put a generous amount of gel on the swell of her stomach. Between doctor’s appointments, it was easy to pretend like maybe she wasn’t pregnant. The morning sickness had faded, her appetite had come back, she was getting fine enough sleep; if she didn’t look at herself in the mirror, if she ignored the pervading aches and pains, the roundness to her features then she could pretend like things were normal.

But then John pulled the chair over to the side of the bed, his fingers brushing hers, and nothing felt even remotely close to normal.

“Alright, let’s take a look at baby, shall we?” Harding said, settling in as she began to glide the instrument across Elliot’s stomach.

“Okay,” Elliot said, feeling uneasy. John’s eyes flickered to her, and while she chewed the inside of her cheek, her fingers curled around his—a thoughtless, absent-minded gesture, like she was a heat-seeking machine and the only heat that would do was his.

He didn’t say anything, but laced their fingers together just as Harding said, “Oh, there’s baby!”

The dull, steady heartbeat echoed. When she stole a glance in his direction, John’s eyes were transfixed on the screen as Harding went over where the features were, pointing them out on the screen to him.

“Your little one is about the size of a peach right now,” Harding was saying, “and let’s just see here...”

Oh, God, she thought, feeling her stomach roll. It was so real. Too real, to be laying there, after all of this time feeling so disconnected from her own body—like a vessel, but now with John’s fingers tangled with hers and the baby’s heartbeat and a fruit analogy regarding the size it felt too real. She could no longer act like it wasn’t happening.

“It looks like we’ve got a perfectly healthy baby boy,” were the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth when Elliot’s eyes drifted from John’s face. “It might be a bit early, but that's my educated inference. Congratulations, Elliot. And daddy too, of course.”

A boy. A boy. I’m having a boy.

A perfectly healthy baby boy.

The room felt a little like it was swimming, her throat tight and a steady burning behind her eyes and nose. She sat up a little and swallowed thickly. John had come to a stand too, to get a better look at the screen, but when she squirmed and moved he looked at her.

“Ell?” he asked, sounding very far away, or like he was talking to her underwater. His hand not interlocked with hers came up to her face, and she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away—not only because of the effort it would take, but because of the way it felt to have him right there when she thought she needed him the most. “What’s wrong? Hey, baby, are you—”

“I’m okay,” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and wobbly. “I’m f-fine, I just—um—”

I’m having a boy. Oh, God, it felt so fucking real, too fucking real, but in a good way—for once, her nerve-endings felt alive, and not with anxiety and dread but with happiness.

Sounding panicked, John tilted her face up and asked again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, a wet, raspy little laugh bubbling out of her, “nothing’s wrong, I’m just—I’m just really happy—”

It took his thumb sweeping wetness from her cheek for her to realize that she was crying. Some unshed emotion hiccuped in her chest, and she swallowed thickly, fingers wrapping around his wrist in what she understood too late was an effort to keep his hand there; skin to skin, pulse close to pulse.

I want a home with you, she’d said to him, that night, and he’d looked at her and said, You have it, Ell, I told you.

He’d said, I’m all yours.

He’d said, Take what you need from me.

Dr. Harding was saying something, speaking softly to John. It was another reminder that it had been idiotic not to let him come in the first place—there was something so inherently endearing about John mmhming and nodding along, listening raptly as the doctor went over what they would be expecting in between this appointment and the next while his thumb swept affectionately over her cheek. She was sure that she heard the reaffirmation that she needed to be getting good sleep, staying as relaxed and unstressed as possible, but she couldn’t think about that. Her brain was going on loop, on repeat.

I’m having a boy, she thought, a perfectly healthy baby boy. My baby.

When Harding patted John’s shoulder and said, “I’ll give you two a minute,” before exiting, she felt John’s fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck; in a gesture that was painfully intimate, his forehead pressed to hers.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “I can’t believe that—”

“I know,” she said, sniffing. “I can’t either.”

“You were right.” He grinned, their noses brushing, giving her hand a squeeze. So close to a kiss; she felt her lashes fluttering, the warmth of his hand spreading along the slope of her neck. “We’re having a boy. My God.”

Yes. We are having a boy. A perfectly healthy baby boy. Without her permission, the thought populated, permeating her brain.

Our baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Yes, I have him right here.”

Staci blinked. A quick intake of his surroundings reminded him that he was sitting in the cab of one of Eden’s Gates trucks—lifted from the F.A.N.G. Center. Footage of him with the cultists—the other cultists—would now be available. Footage of him walking past the corpses of Jacob’s gutted chosen would now be available.

Jacob is going to kill me, he thought, lifting his eyes from the back of the seat to look at Helmi. The woman was watching him as she spoke on the phone, with Dani sitting next to him on the backbench. Helmi had been on the phone with someone for quite a while; he’d stopped paying attention what felt like eons ago. If he just let his brain drift off, he wouldn’t think about the bodies. Fucking God, their bodies—

Jacob’s going to fucking kill me.

Helmi's hand moved. On instinct, Staci flinched, and she rolled her eyes.

“Say hello, doggy,” she said, shoving the phone against his ear. He fumbled with it for a minute before he swallowed thickly.

When he looked at Dani frantically, she frowned, her brows furrowing, and she whispered, “Don’t embarrass me, Staci.”

“Um, h...” His mouth was painfully dry. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Staci Pratt?”

The voice on the other end was painfully pleasant. She had the same kind of accent Dani did—Norwegian, maybe, or Swedish—but her voice was a bit deeper, a rich timbre to it.

“I am,” he replied uneasily. “I-I mean, yes. It is.”

Helmi had faced forward in the driver’s seat again and started pulling away from the F.A.N.G. Center, turning the heat down low. As the truck pulled out onto the snowy highway, she flicked the headlights off and slowed to something close to a crawl.

“S-Sorry, but—”

“You do not have to apologize to me, Staci.”

“I just don’t know—um, who you are,” he managed out. As soon as he said the words, Dani dug her elbow into his ribs; he barely stifled the yelp, looking at her as she mouthed something he couldn’t understand.

She hissed, “I told you, she is—”

“My name is Kajsa. Helmi, and your Dani, and many of our brothers and sisters are...” Her voice trailed off, and she made a thoughtful hum. Pratt tried to ignore the way she said your Dani made his heart jump in his throat. “They are my charges. It is my responsibility to take care of them.”

“Oh,” Pratt said. “So what...What do you want with me?”

“Helmi says that you have made a very good impression,” Kajsa replied sweetly. “You have important knowledge, and I want to make sure that you are safe, and taken care of. Just as I would any of the others.”

He fought back a grimace. The words sounded sweet and enticing, but he couldn’t shake the way Dani had looked at the gutted corpses on the screen and said delightedly, It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.

Pratt’s gaze darted up to the front. Helmi’s dark eyes fixed on his in the mirror, like she had been watching him all along.

“It is my understanding that the Seeds have not endeared you to their cause? That you know what your colleague did, that your friends have left?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I mean—that’s right. Um, I was working for Jacob, but it was more like—”

“Do not trouble yourself with recounting. I believe you,” Kajsa interrupted. And then, gently: “It must have been horrible.”

His chest tightened. Oh, no, he thought, shaking his head and pressing the heel of his hand against his left eye. No, fuck no, don’t listen to her, Pratt, you fucking idiot.

“By now you must have some grasp of what is going on,” the woman continued, “but in case you do not, I will tell you. Are you listening, Staci Pratt?”

Pratt’s head pressed against the back of the seat. He didn’t want to; he didn’t want to listen to her sweetness, her sympathy, the way she clicked her tongue and the timbre of her voice warming him down to the marrow of his bones when he felt like he’d been freezing this whole time.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m listening.”

“We are well-armed. We are organized. We have a common enemy with you. And a common friend, too.” She paused, and he thought that he could hear a smile in her voice when she said, “I can tell that you want to live, my darling. That you don’t want me to have Helmi pull over and gut you open, leave you for the crows and the wolves and the woods to take you.”

Opening his mouth did nothing to inspire the words to come out of him. Nausea rolled violently in his stomach—but there was nothing left to puke up, even if he’d wanted to.

He did want to live, but not like this. Not terrified. Not. Like. This.

“I want you to live too,” Kajsa murmured on the other end.

“But you’re going to have to do something for me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot opened her eyes, it had gotten dark outside.

It took her a minute to collect her bearings, sitting up in a bed in a dark room. At her feet, Boomer huffed and sighed at the disturbance, and then she remembered; she was in her bed. Back at home. John had driven the both of them back to the house, and she’d said that she needed to lay down—and he’d let her, without protest or complaint. He hadn’t even tried to insinuate she could use a napping companion.

Pulling herself out of bed, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and glanced out the window. Everything felt a little foggy. How long had she been sleeping? Had she really been out until late into the night?

She reached absently to her bedside table, blindly fumbling for the lamp switch; after what felt like an eternity of not being able to find it, Elliot sighed and skimmed her hand over her face, looking out the window. The night outside was brighter than it had been in a while, with no clouds in the sky and the moon illuminating the snowy landscape in an unforgiving blue-white, stretching out far and far and far until it hit the treeline.

Something darted on the horizon. She blinked rapidly, taking a step closer to the window and pushing on the glass pane until it started to slide up, grinding laboriously. The longer she looked, the longer Elliot thought maybe she had just been zoning out—but then she saw it again; a flash of something, pale and long, like spider bone-white in color skittering up the dark wood of a tree in the distant treeline.

A glimpse of pale limbs. Tangled, dark hair—she couldn’t make out the color, it was too dark—but it looked wet, it looked matted, like someone had hurt it. Like someone had blown its skull open.

Something metal rattled. The trash can, she thought, her attention snapping to the front of the house. When the sound of metal crashed in the night, the motion-activated light in the front kicked on. A shadow stretched along the snow, cast long and deformed by the warping of the light.

“Hey!” Elliot shouted, but the shadow did not twitch or move in response; just the sounds of rustling, like whoever it was found themselves too preoccupied with digging through the trash can. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest; the terror that had been knotting in her stomach was doused by something hotter, redder, angrier.

Rage.

She pushed herself away from the window and out the door into the hallway. As her feet hit the stairs, there was almost no noise—just the rushing of her movements as she pushed the front door open and hurried down the front steps, turning the corner to where the garbage can sat.

“Hey, listen to me!” she snapped, propelled by the anger when she saw the figure hunched over the garbage can. “You can’t be in—”

The figure lifted its head. From the back, her eyes swept over what looked like fur, a tail, up and up to the back of a head that had two ears perched on it, until the figure’s head turned—

Fury disappeared. It was now only dread, only pure, cold dread and terror sitting in her, gutting her, washing her out as the dog with a man’s face turned and looked at her and smiled.

The square teeth, gapped and pearly, oozed with the same dark liquid as she had thought she’d seen before. In the yellow light from the porch, it glittered dark as garnets, dropping into the snow and spreading out crimson.

Move, she thought, I have to move, I have to fucking move, I have to go I have to run I have to—

“Hey!”

It was her voice. It was her voice, but it wasn’t coming out of her—it was thrown, echoing from somewhere in the trees, the dog with the man’s face spreading its mouth wider. Somehow, she knew deep in the marrow of her bones that It was making that sound.

“Hey? Listen to me?”

The pitch was all wrong. Elliot felt a moan bubbling up in her, and It turned on its hind legs, feet hanging loose around its ribcage, and faced her fully. She managed one step back before It tilted its head, as if to say, where are you going?

“Hey, listen to me!”

There was something else in its teeth. Something else, wiry and golden, and even when she willed herself a step back

(whereveryougowhereveryourun)

her body would not move; she was trapped, frozen, watching as It stepped closer

(ItwillwaitforyouItwaitsforusall)

she realized that it was hair, in It’s teeth

(ITWAITSFORYOUITWAITSFORUSALLITWILLHAVEYOU)

her hair.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she screamed.

When she lurched and twisted around, she was not met with a familiar face. It was a woman, hair dark and bundled up in winter clothes, watching her with concern furrowing her brows as the headlights of her car made Elliot squint. She immediately jerked away.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked, her hand dropping back to her side. She was tall—she had to be at least six feet tall, and her face was sharp and angular, her eyes nearly black without any light to show their color.

“Where—” Glancing around wildly, Elliot forced a swallow. She was not in front of her house. She was not even close to the front of her house. She was all the way at the end of the drive, standing in the—

“—found you in the middle of the road,” the woman said, the lilt of her accent jarring Elliot back to reality. “I was on my way home when I nearly hit you. Are you quite well?”

Her gaze snapped back to the woman. The dog; where was the dog with the man’s face? Where had she—

Every nerve-ending felt fried, like they had become pure static; she felt like she was vibrating. She stared at the dark-haired woman with the strange, rich accent, wondering why it itched at her. Weyfield was small. Too small for her to not know about someone with an accent living there.

“Who are you?” she asked after a moment, nails digging into her palms. “You don’t live around here.”

A smile stretched across the woman’s face. She had pearly teeth, and the kind of full mouth that looked pretty, sculpted—but in the smile, Elliot only thought, broken glass, her smile looks like broken glass.

Vaguely, she was aware of John’s voice; he must have heard her scream, or seen her down the driveway, the headlights of the unfamiliar car illuminating her in the dead of night. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Paranoia spread along her spine, worming into her lungs, a most effective parasite.

“I know you don’t live here,” Elliot managed out, her voice trembling as she took a step forward. There was a tiny pinprick of relief when she realized she’d regained her mobility. “Why are you driving around this neighborhood? Who are you?”

The woman turned and headed back towards the driver’s side of her car, hands tucked politely into the pockets of her coat.

“You should be more careful of your sleepwalking. Someone else might not have been so kind as to stop,” she called over her shoulder. “And—”

The woman paused, the smile still rooted firmly on her face as she opened her car door.

“I hear stress is bad for the baby.”

Something wretched and vile twisted in her stomach, hot as a branding iron. The panic that shot through her system was so vicious, so potent, that for a second she felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs; it crashed over her in a wave so powerful that her vision swam and she thought, I’m going to pass out.

But there was another thought, too, squirming around in there, blinking its little emergency light:

My baby, my baby, you stay away from my baby.

“Ell!”

John’s hands landed on her before she thought think to pull away, even if she’d wanted to, as the headlights of the woman’s car turned away and began to drift down the drive. The idea that she ought to chase the car down occurred to her, but the tremble in her legs and the hitch of her breath reminded her that it would only serve to make her feel worse.

The brunette frantically checked her over, panting and out of breath as though he’d just sprinted down the drive; when his hands finally came to a stop, they were cradling her face, his eyes searching hers. Over his shoulder, she watched the receding red light of the woman’s car drifting in the dark, aimless in a sea of inky black, and she wanted to throw up.

“I heard you scream,” he said, breathless as his brows knit together at the center of his forehead. “What are you doing all the way out here? Baby, look at me, what’s wrong?”

“She knew,” Elliot managed out. Her voice felt like sandpaper grinding out of her lungs. “She knew I—she knew about our baby.”

“Who?” John looked over his shoulder, and then back at her, his thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones. “Elliot, who?”

I don’t know, but the words wouldn’t come.

I don’t know who she is,

but she knew about our baby,

and she has a smile like broken glass,

and a mouth as red as blood.

[vxvxan]

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍  /  welcome aboard, vivian yu, student #34. we are excited to set sail with you !  has anyone told you that you look like park sooyoung? according to our records, you hail from las vegas nevada, usa, prefer she/they, are demigirl, and are here to study communications. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your money — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were  + bright, + cunning, but also - manipulative. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the high sea grill. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed your grandfather’s military pocketknife. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi it’s nia <3 this is my second muse vivian and i apologize soooo much in advance. lmao. their bio and info is below the cut. please like and im me to plot i am so so excited to bring u this angst bitch

vivian grew up in las vegas. they were born to not one, but two politicians. their mother was a state representative and their father was mayor of their town. ever since she was a kid, vivi was forced to spend her free time at donor events, fundraisers, and shuffled around at various events for causes around the city. everyone in town knew vivian by name and face. people sucked up to her: neighbors, teachers, law enforcement, anyone hoping to get ahead by way of her parents’ favor. it gave her a heightened sense of importance that quickly got to her head. 

by the time she was a preteen, vivian believed herself to be above the law and above those around her. by age 14, her father was running for governor and her mother held ambitions of working on a national level in washington dc. an only child with her parents both busy and in the public eye, vivi had absolutely no one to turn to. in her mind, no one would understand her, anyway. once she was 15-16, she was hanging out with an older crowd, skipping school, sneaking out and getting drunk to see if anyone at home would notice  ( they didn’t. )  her folks didn’t take notice of vivi’s bad behavior until her actions began affecting them politically. you couldn’t run a campaign on ‘safe cities’ when your daughter was being brought home by police at night and found lingering around sketchy clubs on the vegas strip. 

trigger warnings in next paragraph: drugs, drug overdose, death

vivian’s mind began to be wired in a really terrible way: the more trouble she got into, the more her parents seemed to notice she existed. maybe they were screaming at her, but they were communicating with her. and that was more than she’d had before. one night at a fundraiser, vivi met a boy who was a fellow politician’s kid. he invited her to a back room with a few other teens where she was introduced to cocaine. unfortunately, vivi became hooked right away. over time, she found comfort with drugs and with this group of teens; the only people who seemed to understand her and care about her. a few months later, she was at a party with this boy and their friends when he overdosed in front of her. his death profoundly affected vivi. she became even more withdrawn, talked to almost no one, and was cruel and cold whenever she did. after nearly being disowned by her parents for the overdose incident, vivi agreed to go to rehab. once she was out, they were sent away to live with their uncle in boston, massachusetts, so vivi couldn’t mess up their politics anymore. she stopped looking for attention from her family and instead wanted nothing to do with them.

( triggers over ) 

in boston, vivi attended public school. quickly she fell into her old ways, getting caught up with a bad crowd, ignoring school and rules, and partying constantly. at school, she met a kind student named harper and was very drawn to her. the girl was so good and everything vivian wasn’t. vivi knew she had absolutely no business getting involved with someone so pure and kindhearted, but she couldn’t help herself. harper was ... different somehow. for the first time, vivian fell in love and felt love. the two dated and vivi really thought she could be a good person with her girlfriend’s influence. however, the school year ended, vivi was shipped off to boarding school by her parents, and she regressed all over again. knowing the path she was on and knowing her girlfriend deserved much better, vivian cheated on her right away and broke things off. ever since then, vivi has cheated on every single person she’s ever dated and maintained fierce independence and selfishness. 

other info:  vivian may look poised and sweet from time to time, but don’t let it fool you. it’s her political upbringing that allows her to put on a faux aura of compassion and authority. vivi is still the same mess they have always been. they will be a bitch form time to time. they take kindness as an insult and as a method for someone to get something from her. it’s not her fault, really. it’s how she was taught. they’re impulsive, stubborn, ruthless, and self-destructive. they are very very intelligent and could do something with their life, if they ever learned to channel her good qualities. vivian just doesn’t know they exist. vivian is bisexual with a strong leaning towards women, but who knows ?  putting her into a box would be impossible. she’s an entp, virgo, chaotic neutral if any of that means anything to you. <3 

if you like this i will im you to plot !!  i’m soooo excited to bring vivi to yall and excited to see if she grows up or changes at all here lol

wanted connections ?? i am so open to anything don’t feel limited by these, but here are so ideas to help us: 

a former best friend who vivi fucked over

someone vivi started getting feelings for and then abandoned

friends with benefits

even better, enemies with benefits

someone vivi cheats on for exams, homework, etc.

someone vivian has a soft spot for but won’t admit 

someone vivi is super protective of  &  will fight over

partners in crime  ( warning u have to be ready to commit real crimes lol ) 

??? idk literally whatever ?? ?

angsty drama

[tesruinedmylife]

Tell us about Yokeda sinking into the sea

ah yes i love yokudan/redguard lore so much thanks m mwah

now lets start our mcfucking lecture, buckle up folks

there are a few theories regarding yokuda sinking. one of them claims that the natural causes are to blame, but it's boring so who would even wanna consider it. others are so much more spicy, pointing at the actions of yokudans:

one is your classic hubris story, basically saying that yokuda sank as a result of yokudans turning away from their gods' teachings and doing some forbidden rites and summoning shit that shouldnt be summoned, you know. generally Stuff You Should Not Do ! (in gods eyes at least. if it's up to me to decide then go crazy)(for religious reasons this is a joke)

so that whole rebel attitude yokudans had going on made satakal (yknow the god of Everything who is a snake who wants to eat the world. and also his own tail. alduin wishes he had what satakal has) lose his shit eventually! not even suprising tbh. he emerged from the ocean and caused waves so powerful that they sank yokuda ... bye bye heretics

but ok yall eso peeps probably know the third (and my favourite) theory best! since like. a mortal form of the warrior keeps yelling it at you. and tbh its probably the most plausible one because, in @intyaliel 's wise words, "who am i to doubt the word of a constellation"

now lets get to the bottom of things!

third theory is that of hiradirge. now, who were they? basically, they were a rebelled group of ansei (the most epic sword-singers) who mastered smth called "the stone magic." insert funny dwayne the rock johnson joke here. the whole sword-saints thing boils down to being able to summon and use a shehai, sort of a spirit sword? with the sheer power of free will?? they achieved this ability by constant training of both body and mind it was fucking sick. but yeah these hiradirge guys went a step further than their fellow ansei, and reached out for power even stronger - pankratosword - power to change the fucking laws of the nature!!!! i found some claims saying that this could be equal to nuclear weapons??? bc it boils down to splitting the atoms?? but like dont cite me on it i found it on reddit and im too sexy to understand some of the messed up deeplore stuff there

OK I GOT SIDETRACKED AGAIN ANYWAY, the hiradirge boys used this power to sink yokunda as an act of revenge, since they got defeated in the last civil war. so it was kinda like pulling an uno reverse card when ur opponent was going to make you pick 30 cards

and. well thats kinda it? i know it probably didnt look like that but its so fucking funny to imagine a bunch of guys manifesting their spirit swords and just. stabbing the earth. and the people all around them just shuffling uncomfortably like "huh. what are they doing." until the earth started shaking and everything began collapsing. gonna leave it at that

[send me questions abt teslore and i will answer Like That]

[alligaytorswamp]

yellow , green , blue, turquoise , onyx , fuchsia , cream , mauve ( also genshin) & plum B)))

hey hi hello >:)

green: do you have a favourite flower?

nah i dont differentiate them.. every flower is just a flower to me jkhasjkdhkj...

if the flower is purple it gets extra points tho

blue: preferred type of weather?

rain!!! thunderstorms!!! <333

turquoise: favorite sea animal?

penguins or turtles :p

onyx: do you still play Minecraft?

nope, never did

fuchsia: favorite land animal?

cream: any piercings or tattoos? do you want any?

i have a helix one but it got fucked up.. so it looks weird :(

would love to fix it one day.. or maybe get rid of it completely hhh

no tattoos but i want some yes heheeheh

some longer answers will be under the cut jkahdsjkad

plum: a food you've never tried

oi.. dats like a lot of things... ;;

well I've never had anything "Chinese"/"Mexican"/idk what else people mention in a similar manner... i hear English-speaking folks refer to these.. "types" and yep never had any of that. also like.. any food chains that just don't exist in Russia? obv nope......... there is probably an insane amount of stuff I haven't tried, I'm picky and literally just eat at home 99% of the time so-

yellow: name of an artist you think is underappreciated

gonna give a dumb ass answer but... i can't...? i don't really know how much one should be "appreciated", like what is the "right amount" and whether or not this person receives it. the amount of notes/likes doesn't always represent that and also i don't look there at all.. also this one random artist can have multiple accs on different platforms with different engagements and all that... so how do i really know what's up with them? and once again i don't think i sit around thinking Damn this person needs more likes !! .. i just like/rb whatever i want and it's epic lashdjlksajdlk also i'm not sure if i have strong attachments to certain creators.. (at this point that is. i used to and some of it backfired lmao) ... the only attachments i have r ppl i'm friends with which is U Know... considered the right answer to this question and an adequate person would do just that but damn none of yall getting a free promo wtf 🙄 and i feel like mentioning one friend could lead to upsetting another or like .. i could just forget to tag someone... or I would waste time trying to figure out if it would be ok to mention them in an ask like this one and probably would decide against it anyways just not to bother anybody ....

and is getting tagged in a post saying u r underappreciated even a compliment? because i for one am not too sure about that........... much to think about uh huh

mauve: any unpopular opinions?

we entered danger zone.................... beware :з

uhhh well first of all I think childe x zhongli is like the most pathetic and boring "default" pairing this fandom came up with. they have 0 chemistry and I just hate everything about it. as much as I headcanon both as queers... together romantically it feels like 2 straight men put together by ya*i fans............ also before i blacklisted to ship and voluntarily looked through the ship tag... every post felt like a hard ooc. i could not understand what childe or zhongli are supposed to be as individuals, what they have in common, what kind of dynamic they have. deadass most crack ships with 0 interactions have more flavor than this tragedy

eng VAs are great people and appreciate their work but whoever decides the voices ain't doing it right. every male character sounds like a middle-aged white man.. and most of the youngest characters sound like very obvious adults trying to pretend to be babies. all of it irks me so bad god.. and there are so many characters that lose their little spark in eng........ (yet in korean and chinese they're completely fine??)

all of the playable adult male characters are shitty people in one way or another. none of them are good. they have reasons and different perspectives, yes, but they suck. every single one of them. stop ignoring it or trying to say only some are evil. none of them are inherently terrible.. but they're not these precious and righteous individuals. they're men.................... that says a lot, actually. :\

and as for women? god i hate the idea that they're all so uninteresting and weak. lichrally just a bunch of girlbosses, morals of most could be questioned as well... anyways some of the girls not having extremely dramatic stories doesn't make them any less cool. let them be

also all archons suck it's ok. you can still love them while acknowledging that they've done some shit. ALSO stop demonizing venti .. and now baal, while praising zhongli- he's an old loser stop lying to yourself. i hate when people present him as the only good archon, the voice of reason who is just so cool and collected but also ahh so cutely silly about mora !!!............. bitch the story quest of liyue is just one zhongli-is-a-fucking-moron campaign idk did yall skip it or something............ and even then it's ok to like him, he does have his logic/reasons/beliefs that justify his actions... he is not a good guy or archon tho.

shipping archons/adepti/whatever the fuck that isn't a basic human with a basic human is super weird. i mean the power dynamic will be completely fucked and ages? lord almighty... basically mortals should stay with mortals... the rest goes to baby jail except maybe ganyu she's a good girl

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh idk what else.................

maybe.. ahha... well.............. with how people hype up any vague new character that is leaked and declare how they will skip every banner ever for them - even tho all we know is... how the character looks like? it feels a bit too much. like truly what's the point of going crazy and then screaming at mihoyo every 3 seconds over some character that could be fake for all we know, or maybe they'll be a support you don't need, or they have a weapon you don't like to use.... can't you just wait till we get official info? jesus lawd- but regardless.......................... where is the same energy for baizhu :)

the man is literally in the game and people manage to forget him even in conversations about dendro specifically- how the fuck is that even real-

thanks for watching everybody don't forget to subscribe smash that like button and hit the notification bell ^_^

[asgardian--angels]

Recommend some good folk metal music please

:D i never thought i’d see the day when someone actually wants to know more about the music i listen to *cracks knuckles* my time has come

I apologize in advance for this novel. Feel free to skip to the recommended tracks lol.

Most folk metal comes out of northern Europe (Finland, heavily) though you can find it all over the world (Hu Band comes to mind but I mean, it’s on every continent). I am one of those people with like, a small handful of favorite bands that I listen to mercilessly so I am sure that I am only representing a miniscule percentage of what’s available out there. What’s great is that folk metal is much more versatile than many other genres in its sound; the essence of folk metal is simply to 1) utilize traditional (or rather, in the sense of a metal band, non-traditional) instruments such as violin, accordion, brass ensemble, bagpipes, what have you, and 2) have lyrical themes which revolve around regional folklore, mythology, cultural heritage, or place (what I particularly like is a frequent reverence and respect for nature). Other genres of metal (death, black) have the second element but not the first, and tend to incorporate darker overall tones and consistently harsher or lo-fi vocal styles and sounds. Folk metal can be a gateway genre into metal and can often be quite hopepunk (if you will). Because of these criteria, the actual sound of folk metal can range from sea shanties to ‘spooky walk in the midnight woods’ to scathing social commentary to SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SH

Basically you can find a range of styles within the genre that fit what you’re looking for, from those that have an orchestral, ballad feel, to things that border on death metal but have a hurdy-gurdy in there. There’s also a much higher percentage of female-led folk metal bands than other metal genres.

I’ll go through my top picks.

Turisas. These motherfuckers. My boys.

Turisas is based in Finland, but sing primarily in English (with occasional Finnish, a smidge of Greek and Swedish too). Four albums out to date, fifth in progress. Sound is absolutely fucking bonkers god tier shit, if I may say so myself. Every single song sounds like you’ve been transported into an Iliad metal musical. Heavy use of a full orchestra and choir, along with sick violin and accordion solos. Their lyrical themes focus heavily on ancient Greco-Roman and Viking military history - but before you raise any red flags, rest assured they’re liberal as fuck and trust me the tea is scalding when Mathias feels like making a Point about Then and Now. No seriously, I don’t know how to express the beauty and depth of his songwriting - Mathias Nygård is an incredibly talented composer, musician, and songwriter (nay, POET), and an extremely intelligent and down to earth guy. There are plenty of bands that are happy to write Viking songs about pillaging and glorious death in battle and all that (Alestorm comes to mind), those are a dime a dozen. Turisas makes history come to life in a way that transports you back in time and thrusts you into the living breathing world of the past. They deal with the horrors and tragedy of war from both sides, consequences and motivations, fears and pride and loss, home and family, despair and hope. They write songs about people, big and small, and their role in weaving the great tapestry of history. And the best part is that it’s informed - Mathias does his damn research and the tales he tells are rooted in fact. He brings them to life so we can experience what it must have been like for those real living people, with the goal of forcing us to confront our own selves in them. He’s a modern Homer, I shit you not. 

Did I mention there’s a song about pirates that’s actually really complex and nuanced, about how the hypocrisy and vile colonialist deeds of emperors makes them no different than the criminals they persecute?

Or that they do a badass cover of Rasputin?? yeah?????

Anyway enough gushing. Their second and third albums (The Varangian Way, Stand Up And Fight) are consecutive concept albums that follow the story of the Varangian Guard (the legendary Viking battalion that defended Alexander the Great) so the songs are actually chronologically linked to tell this epic tale. It’s a fucking listen, lads. The Varangian Way is probably my favorite album. But all their albums are top notch. 

My favorite songs: End of An Empire (this one comes for 2020 hard), Piece by Piece (AKA die fascists 2k20), Cursed Be Iron, Among Ancestors, Greek Fire, Miklagard Overture (you gotta earn this song tho, it’s the finale)

Good first listen picks/hits: Battle Metal, To Holmgard and Beyond, March of the Varangian Guard, Ten More Miles, One More

Finntroll. These other motherfuckers. My other boys.

Another big name in the Finnish folk metal scene. As you can see, their band revolves both aesthetically and musically around Scandinavian troll folklore. Yall weird elf-fuckers who like the really big ears? Here you go. Look at those ears. They’re good friends with Turisas. Both love their facepaint.

Musical style leans much more towards black and death metal influenced, with a heavier, fuller sound and growling vocals. But it’s an incredibly rich and creative aural tapestry, with layers of masterfully executed sound that’s a real delight to lose yourself in. Use of fiddle, brass, keyboard, accordion, and banjo, and strong folk melodies make their sound unmistakable and unique. They are known for their ‘black humppa’ beat, which basically gives the effect of feeling the primal need to stomp around loudly to their music. It’s great cardio. They also utilize orchestra in some great intro tracks. They know their stuff.

The majority of their songs are sung in Swedish (they do some English cover songs which are FANTASTIC holy SHIT), but don’t let that stop you. The mood and power and emotion of their music transcend language, and you can be sure the lyrics are about either trolls, witches, the dark woods, spirits, or something of that ilk. I think Swedish as a language works very well with this kind of music, and honestly having it in English would lose something. 

They have been around a long time and so have many albums, but I personally have only listened to the last three which feature their current singer, Mathias Lillmåns, whom I adore. Those albums are Nifelvind, Blodsvept, and their recent release Vredesvävd (that i’ve had on repeat since I got it three weeks ago). I’m sure their other ones are great too, I just can’t make a personal recommendation since I haven’t heard them. 

My favorite songs: Galgasång, Tiden Utan Tid, Ylaren, Skogsdotter, Två Ormar, Ett Norrskensdåd, Skövlarens Död

Good first listen picks/hits: Forsen, Under Bergets Rot, Häxbrygd, Trollhammaren (older song), Solsagan

I’ll go through these other ones a little faster, I haven’t heard quite as much from them but I do love them.

Korpiklaani. 

Great, full folk sound, utilizes a lot of folk instruments including some less commonly seen ones like hurdy gurdy. Songs are mostly in Finnish but plenty in English too. Jonne Järvelä has a really unique voice that grows on you, but it’s not for everyone. The band started as Sami folk, and Jonne is trained in Sami yoik singing, which makes an appearance in a few songs. I prefer the Finnish tracks, as a lot of the English ones are drinking songs lmao. But again, really well-executed music with layers of sound that keeps you hooked. I haven’t heard enough of their discography to really recommend enough to cover everything. 

Song picks: Minä Näin Vedessä Neidon, Metsälle, Ämmänhauta, Lempo

Moonsorrow.

Definitely a darker, black-folk band. Probably not a great pick if you aren’t accustomed to black metal - very long tracks (8-15 mins is standard), growling/shrieking vocals, a ‘thinner’ but encompassing wall of sound usual of black metal, but with the benefit of wonderfully entrancing dark folk elements and chants. It’s done really really well. Sung almost entirely in Finnish (apart from cover tracks). Lyrically, focuses on themes of Norse mythology, man vs nature and similar elements. Definitely one of those bands whose music gets you into a zone. I can lose serious time just putting a whole album on and letting my mind wander elsewhere. My favorite album is Jumalten Aika. 

Song picks: Ruttolehto Sis. Päivättömän Päivän Kansa (my fucking FAVORITE), Suden Tunti (well known hit), and also uhh check out their cover of Non Serviam cause it’s a fucking banger

Other bands that I like what I’ve heard but really can’t say much about them, whoops - Tyr (from the Faroe Islands, great stuff, Faroese is a baller language), Ensiferum, Nightwish (female-led).... I’m open to suggestions. Like I said, there are folk metal bands all over the world, and each is intrinsically linked to a sense of place and cultural identity that makes them unique. I’d love to hear about more tbh. 

[sparklingichigo]

Human World Adventures

Part 3

So the day has come everyone is packing to go to the swimming pool. Ichigo is currently having a dilemma, she remembers going shopping once with Asmo buying two swimsuits. The first one being a pink swimsuit and the other one is dark red. She's so confused that she takes a lot of time just to pack.

Beel: Sugar, are you done?

Ichigo: What, yeah! I'm done! [puts the swimsuit into the luggage, both of them]

Beel: Oh okay^^

Also Beel: Can't wait for whatever you and Asmo prepared for me^^

Just as he said that he exits the room leaving a flustered Ichigo in the room.

Ichigo: ... holy sht- this won't end well...

At the same time, Haruka is also choosing her swimsuit. Just as she did that, Simeon opens the door shocking Haruka.

Haruka: Oh my goodness!

Simeon: Sorry about that. So, what are you doing?

Haruka: I'm trying to choose which one I should wear. What do you think?

Ah yes, the angel is now having a dilemma as well. Time for you to get banned from heaven for another month thanks to those lustful thoughts.

Haruka: Simeon?

Simeon: Both of them are good. The white one looks classy while the black one.... [blushes a little] uh.... looks good as well^^

Haruka: So which one? I personally prefer the black one.

Simeon: Then the choice is made^^

Simeon internally: Father, I'm sorry for another sin I did.... amen.

In another room, Rosaria laid out her swimsuit shocking her husband.

Michael: Are you sure you're going to wear that?

Rosaria: Yeah! I'm going swimming! Obviously!

Michael: ...still

Rosaria: Not to worry. We're not sinning, you're just looking at me and I'm just trying to look good for you^^

In the end, everyone is ready to swim, Luke as always looks adorable in his swim trunks and his baby blue float.

Luke: I'm ready!

Belphie: Aight time to throw this in! [throws in a flamingo float and jumps into it]

Luke: Yaaay! I have a friend!!

Meanwhile, Ichigo is having another dilemma. She has no idea which one to choose. So she decides to drag both Asmo and Haruka to the changing room.

Ichigo: Okay folks, which one!

Asmo: .... You bought another one?! Without telling me?! And it looks hotter than what I bought you?!

Ichigo: .... well things happen so yea

Haruka: I prefer the red one actually since I like the color.

Asmo: We're probably gonna choose the red one for completely different reasons

Ichigo: Different reasons?

Asmo: Oh yes, we're gonna rile him up!

Ichigo: Oh my God-

Haruka: Use the dark red one! It looks better!

Ichigo: ...fine

So, Ichigo ends up using the dark red swimsuit. It has a more revealing cut that Ichigo ends up going out with a yukata towel because she's still scared.

Asmo: What about you, sis? What did you wear?

Haruka: Oh, I'm wearing one already [reveals her swimsuit]

Asmo: Yasss! Queen! Pop off!

Asmo: You're working quite hard to rile up a certain angel are you?

Haruka: Eh? What do you mean?

Asmo: Simeon is definitely going to enjoy the view, and so will Beel [to Ichigo]. Oh well, see you, girls, at the pool~ [walks away]

To the pool, he goes. Ichigo is still quite scared to reveal her swimsuit so she just sits by the bench watching everyone play. Of course, Beel being the most active brother is already swimming and going against Levi. Coincidentally, she's sitting next to Satan who's reading a book.

Satan: You're not swimming?

Ichigo: Perhaps later^^ they seem to be having fun

Solomon: Care for a drink, m'lady? [jokingly offers a drink]

Ichigo: Why thank you, kind sir^^ [jokingly accepts the drink too]

Solomon: So you're not swimming?

Ichigo: Probably not. Why do you guys keep on asking that?!

Satan: You're still in your yukata towel, clearly you've changed so it makes sense why we're asking.

Solomon: Yeah, sounds sus.

Ichigo: Uh.... about that.....

Suddenly they see a bright light appearing out of nowhere. Everyone instantly stares, turns out it's Rosaria revealing her swimsuit as her husband puts her yukata towel away.

Asmo: Michael married a Goddess! [jaw drops]

Satan: Wow!

Solomon: I see why Michael really loves her.

Ichigo: Never thought I'd see the day a female angel would wear such a revealing swimsuit and still looks classy!

Haruka: Well, she can reveal her swimsuit so why don't we just reveal ours.

Ichigo: Yeah!

Meanwhile, Rosaria and Michael finally arrive at the pool.

Rosaria: excuse me, younglings^^ [passing through Asmo and Mammon]

Mammon: Hot damn! [lowers his sunglasses]

Michael: [glares at Mammon]

Mammon: bye- [enters the pool]

Asmo: She looks like a goddess! So pretty!! [hyping her up basically]

Michael: She is

Rosaria: Aww thank you, my dear^^ [to Asmo] you look just as beautiful^^

Finally, the two of them reveal their swimsuits. Solomon is shocked as well by the sudden reveal.

Solomon: Well damn! Didn't know you look this good should've-

Satan: [smacks Solomon with his book] No.

Somewhere, Haruka instantly gets into the pool despite Simeon offering help but here she is in the pool. Ichigo is still stuck with Satan and Solomon because she's too scared to get in.

Satan: Just get in there, it's not that bad

Ichigo: That's not what I'm scared off ;-;

Solomon: Things I do for my friends. BEEL!!!

Beel: Huh? O-oh o///o

Ichigo: Hi?

Somewhere Asmo is already giving codes to Ichigo to go to Beel but she's still stuck there for a reason. Even Asmo facepalms.

Asmo: [sigh] Gurl, just- [facepalms]

Satan: Just go, Ichigo. It's not that bad.

Solomon: Gooo!! [pushes Ichigo to Beel's direction]

Ichigo: But- [bumps into beel] SOLOMON!!

Solomon: Thank me later

Satan: [sigh] Couples...

Okay now back to Haruka, she's currently having a swim battle with Levi, of course, Levi being a sea serpent accepts the challenge.

Levi: Is demon form allowed?

Haruka: No! That won't be fair!

Levi: Manual swimming huh? Alright then, you're on. The loser treats the winner ice cream!

Haruka: Deal!

Simeon who watches from the sides just laughs at how silly the two are. Of course, he playfully cheers for Haruka.

Simeon: Go Haruka!! You can do it!!

Luke: Whoa! A competition!! Go Haruka!! Go beat that demon!!

Now back to our... mess of a couple, sigh.

Beel: Are you okay?

Ichigo: Y-yeah, I'm fine! [a blushing mess]

Beel: Ah, so this is the surprise you and Asmo are talking about.

Ichigo: Well...Asmo bought me the pink one.... but he suggested I use the red one. Surprise I guess...

Beel: It's nice. I love the surprise.

Ichigo: Thanks^^

Beel: Wanna go swimming?

Ichigo: Yeah sure, let's go o///o

Now back to the competition, Levi and Haruka are pretty much equal and their speed is always close.

Simeon: And the winner is....... Haruka!!

Luke: Yaaay!!!

Levi: This is why yall need to hype me up!

Mammon: Why should I? I'm drinking my drink. Got no time for that.

Levi: Tsk. [splahes water at Mammon]

Asmo: Hey don't look at me. I'm helping Ichigo with her mess of a love life.

Lucifer: [lowers his sunglasses] no.

Levi: I didn't even ask you?? How about you, Lord Diavolo?

Mammon: He ain't even here?!?!

Levi: What about Barb?

Barb: Unfortunately, M'lord needs me^^ [just got back with Diavolo]

Diavolo: Hello guys, sorry I'm late!

Haruka: No it's okay! You're probably really busy^^

Diavolo: Indeed, I need to help with rebuilding the castle and more things. What a busy day.

Haruka: I see... are you going to swim?

Diavolo: Maybe, but not right now^^ I'll be with Lucifer here.

Suddenly Haruka and Levi feel a big splash against them.

Levi: ...BEEL I SWEAR TO-

Haruka: Geez what was that?!

Beel: [appearing] hi?

Simeon: oh my goodness!

Rosaria: Beelzebub! I'm not even in there yet!

Beel: Sorry ma'am.... got a bit too excited [sweat drops]

Rosaria: Oh well, I'll just get in, I have no choice^^ [enters the pool]

Belphie:... not again. I hate yall.

Ichigo: welp...

Beel: Come on, Ichigo! Get in!

Ichigo: Uh... Don't mind me here^^ [uses the stair to get into the pool]

Levi: Tsk. You're no fun!

Ichigo: I'm not creating another splash.

Levi: Even Haruka jumped into the pool. Coward.

Ichigo: Fine. [gets up to do a jump] Get ready people.

Beel: Good luck!!

Ichigo: [Finally jumps in]

Levi: There you go!

Ichigo: Satisfied?!

Beel: Don't listen to him, sugar. We're here to have fun aren't we?^^

Asmo: In what kind of way though?

Beel:...

Ichigo: ....?

Lucifer: [smacks Asmo] Stop creating sexual jokes. People are here to swim, not to do those things!

Asmo: Geez! What was that for?!

Lucifer: For having such a dirty mind!

Solomon: Everyone!! Back away!!

Levi: Sht-

Rosaria: I'll be here^^ haha [holds onto the stair's railing]

Solomon: One....two....three!

Solomon jumps into the pool causing another splash everywhere, although not as big as Beel it's still shocking to everyone. Due to reflex Beel holds Ichigo close to him to prevent them from being pushed away by the water.

Solomon: Told you to thank me later-

Ichigo: Oh my God! Shut up! [splashes water at him]

Asmo: Hey, Satan! Aren't you coming in?

Satan: Don't feel like it.

Asmo: Like father like son^^

Suddenly Solomon feels a kick on his feet.

Solomon: What-

Haruka: Mwehehehe-

Solomon: Haruka!! Get back here!

Haruka: No! [swims to Simeon's side]

Solomon: You!!

Haruka: Simeon! Help me!! [hides behind him]

Solomon: Pulling the boyfriend card huh-

Simeon: Now, now let's not fight [sweatdrop]

Asmo yet again pesters Satan to get in as the avatar of wrath rejects it.

Asmo: Are you sure you don't wanna get in?

Satan: No thank you, I don't feel like it.

Asmo: What's wrong? You're usually fine with swimming.

Satan: I don't know... I'm just not in the mood for swimming. Maybe I'll just sunbathe here.

Suddenly Simeon and Luke pass by in front of them going to the toilet. Satan sigh again putting his book aside.

Asmo: I guess I get why you're not in the mood for it.

Satan: Yeah, maybe I should go home soon.

Asmo: What? Why should you? You can still have fun with us! Ichigo even asks us to go to cheer you up!

Haruka: Are you still pissed off because of the war? PTSD perhaps?

Satan: none of your business. Where's Ichigo by the way?

Asmo: With Beel, want me to take you there?

Satan: Sure, let's go ^^

Asmo: Bestieee!! Satan is looking for you!!

Beel: Why would he be looking for you?

Ichigo: Eh, I don't know. Ask him yourself.

Beel: I guess. Can I still hold you though?

Ichigo: That's fine^^ you can still hug me.

Asmo: Beel, Ichigo, back away! A raging ball of chaos is about to jump!

Ichigo: Wha- [feels a splash against her] wow!

Satan: [appearing from the bottom of the pool] Hey! I'm in now!

Beel: Haha, cool.

Ichigo: [sigh] still in a bad mood aren't you?

Satan: Sort off, but it'll be okay. You're here now^^

Beel: What-

Ichigo: Eh?

Asmo: EH?!

What's going on?? How did enemies...turn to a best friend...turn to casual friends...turn to enemies again....turn to strangers...turn to a best friend... now TURN INTO THIS?! Don't ask me, I'm just a casual narrator passing by.

Luke: Hey! What's going on out there?!

Asmo: Haha....nothing...adult things^^ Haha... a kid like you wouldn't understand.

Simeon: Sorry for the wait, Luke seems to take his precious time in the toilet^^

Haruka: It's fine^^ I can still have fun with Levi and Solomon

Solomon: Having fun? More like torturing me!! GET BACK HERE!!

Haruka: No! Levi, help me!!

Levi: Let's go!! [helps Haruka escapes from Solomon]

Now back to these three, Asmo is now witnessing a horrible tension between the fourth born and the sixth born. What's going on?? Why are they glaring at each other?? Find out in the next chapter!

[honeybeewriter]

Icarus

Chapter 1: The Rebel Princess

Au: Fantasy AU

Word count: 2.6k 

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warning: Smoking, light cussing

Link to next part:

A/N: im super excited to be writing this story! its my first story ive written in a long time and im super happy to share the first chapter of Icarus with you guys! hope yall enjoy it as much i as i do!

Aesthetic:

This overbearing weight of being royalty and responsibilities of princess has hung on your shoulders like a horse stomping on a snake, it was awful to say the least. Along with this your father had now set up an arranged marriage to the kingdom next over to make peace: something you did not want. No, your heart soared for adventure and your senses longed to smell the sea and feel the cool breeze through your (h/c) locks. It’s a wish, a dream, something far from your grasp.  

The morning dew settled among the kingdom, golden warm rays flooded in through the window, caressing your face, rubbing against your eyes as they flutter open. The feeling of silk and cotton danced along your naked legs, you stir awake, outstretching your arms. A gentle knock echo’s out into the silent room, before the creaking of the door opening. “Ah,princess (l/n) you’re awake!” The maid known as Mina entered the room, with a bow. “You know m’lady you should get out for a while! I know about your little dreams” Mina laughs as your face flusters “Mina!” you exclaimed and held your hands to your face “I’ll cover for you, Please don’t bring home another fae!” you had jumped out of bed at the thought of adventure. “Mina! Tamaki is a nice fae!! Don’t be rude!” You both erupt in fits of laughter. What a start to the day. 

Adventure was in the air, as you snuck out of the castle. You dawn a fine silk gown that a fair maiden would wear, a pale lavender tone matched with a wine red hooded cloak: To hide your identity from the ones who would stitch to your father.  

Across the forest, in a cart with friends laughing and having fun. A winged man stood with a guitar singing a merry tune, a man with burn scars guiding a horse with a scowl, a woman with blonde hair in buns reading her daily tarots card. The winged man lowers his guitar and his singing fades as he begins to speak “Hey Toga, whats is my card today?” he asked, sitting in front of the witch, who then shuffles them a few times before drawing out. The wheel of fortune. “Oh! Change is coming! This can be exciting, this means something big is at work, but what goes up must come down. Therefore be careful when change comes!” Toga explained before putting away her cards her satchel. The man with scars turned around and glanced at the two “There is a kingdom coming up, and we need to resupply before heading onwards.” His voice husk from smoking as teen, he still does nonetheless. The song of the frogs and bird sang throughout the woods as the trots of the horse and that squeaky wheel join in the chorus.

The winged man looks to the sky and ponders,Hm change? I wonder what the winds will bring me? The clouds line the sun, like curtains with only peeks of yellows rays shining down. The cart comes to a stop, and the man with raven hair and scars stood up, while lighting a cigarette “Alright we are here, no trouble, gather supplies and come back to the cart before sunset” He inhales the tobacco and puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Got it, keigo?” 

Keigo looks back with a smirk “Me trouble, pssh, never. You’re the one that burnt that caravan, Dabi, oh powerful burnt bastard!” Dabi snarls, clenching his fist tightly “Get out of here you damn buzzard!” keigo waved him off as he slipped on a leather jacket that was inscribed with magical rune that hid his wings. “Meet here at sunset, got it crazy?” Dabi spoke to toga as keigo ventured off into the kingdom.

The town was lively and hardy, towns folk chatter and trade, while the echoes of laughter of children and barks from the stray dogs dance throughout the streets. The smell of fresh baked goods with the smell of blood from the meat market, not very pleasant to smell. You browsed the fruit stands, gliding your hand along the fresh picks, thinking within your thoughts of today's adventure; maybe a nice picnic in my secret garden, or maybe an adventure in the outside forest. Your mind was so deep in thought that you hadn't noticed that a certain knight was next to you. 

“Ahem!” the knight coughed, causing you to jump with fear, as your eyes followed the armor, you gulped.. Iida.. “What are you doing here Iida!” you barked as you gathered up some fruit that had caught your eye, paying the merchant. “I should be asking you that Princess.”  Iida was a stickler for the kings rules and so the king had appointed young iida as your bodyguard, since you liked to skip out and such. “Iida please let me have today off! Please!” you begged as you held the bag fruit to your chest, bouncing like a child begging for a sweet. 

Now usually rumors and gossip caught Keigo's attention but, overhearing the about the rebellious princess, now that caught his keen hearing. As he turns from the stand he sees a tall knight and a cloaked person unknowingly, it was the princess. He strolls on over and wraps an arm around your neck. “Look, knight, i'm sure you have some crown to guard, so do me and my friend here a favor and bug off would yah?” and without waiting for an answer keigo whisps you away into the crowded streets. 

“Geez what a killjoy!” keigo said as he leads you to a quieter part of town, “Ha, I'm sorry if that was weird or if i made you uncomfortable, but that knight seemed to be hard on yo-” Keigo was cut off as you whipped out your opal knife, “Look i don’t know you or where you came from, you take me back to my knight!” You snarled. Keigo just laughed and grabs gentle onto your wrist, lowering the knife “Ah so you are the rebellious princess i’ve heard about! Tell me, Do you really want to go back?” you look defeated and huffed, shaking your head no as you sheath your knife. 

“No not really i just want to go to my garden and eat.” You said as you lowered your cloaks hood. Keigo finally got a good look at your face, (h/l) beautiful (h/c) hair, along with a pair of radiant (E/c) orbs, that sparkled in the sun. You looked just like a princess, no.. a queen at best. His eyes lit up as he looked your body up and down. “Will you please stop oodling me, come on, i guess you will have to be my pretend bodyguard for now” You spoke, you knew when they found the both of you. The two of yall were in serious trouble, him more so, i mean kidnapping a princess that is very bad to the king. 

The streets grew into dirt roads, and the houses disappear as you walked further into the depth of the kingdom, humming a tune, singing as you go. Keigo follows of course, his curiosity growing about you, a runaway princess. 

 “Down in the depths, where the marble stairs cry, to left pink flowers hang their lives, make a right. Trot down the path into the pine, two stones of moss on the northside, listen to the whisper of the willow that lays upon the pond bank , that is where you will find. The sweet little spot of mine.”

Pure white marble stairs lay in bed against the hillside, a makeshift stream runs down the steps, carrying twigs and leaves, a sight to see. Such sad marble stairs longing to be cleaned and re-purposed. Keigo watched as you took off your shoes, the sound of splashing as you walk down the steps. He follows in suit taking his own shoes off, the pitter patter of wet feet echo throughout the silent forest-line.

You stop and look up, “Up there is where the pink flowers hang.” you loop your arm with his as you tell the story about a lonely prince who once lived in this ruin. How his family had gotten a witch to curse the boy, he was a sweet green haired prince who wanted adventure like yourself, but one day he had crossed a line into the dragon land, and he had fallen in love with the king. But once his family found out he was shunned, and casted out. One day his dragon king had found him and they were happy, but the curse of the witch:

Those be warned who want to find the lost, if you travel further than the pine you will find poison, outcast from his family, a lock against the seal, betrayed, outcasted its a weakened deal. The blood of royalty lay among the scales, heed my warning, your life frail. 

“Story of the green prince and the king.. So is this place cursed or something?” Keigo asked as you both walk into the pine forest “i believe it is cause i found the skeletons of the two” You said as your hand glides across the brush as you walk. “That must have been a sight to see.”  Your face fell as the memory plays in your head. The two skeletons embracing in against a tree seemly untouched by mother nature. “A pure sad sight” You tug the blonde male along the path. 

Two stones with moss on the northside, and the whispering willow. The two of you stop admiring the willows horror filled beauty. The willow had to be at least 100 years old, her branches twisting and growing in a way that makes your stomach get a sick feeling. A thick fog rolling over the lake, like a dress dancing over a marble floor. 

“So are we almost there?” Keigo asks his eyes fixed out onto the stilled water. Taking the male’s hand you pull him along into the ruin of clay and brick, a small grotto hides away this lostwonder of a place. Keigo's eyes widen, what a hidden away little base. “Wow, this must have been their home.” Keigo rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat on the edge of the water basin, you sat next to the male and pulled out the fruit bag that you had bought earlier. 

“So what brings you to the kingdom of berbile?” you questioned With a small chuckle as he takes a pear, 

“I'm actually just passin by, me and a few friends are heading west towards the coast.” He takes a bite of the green fruit, the juice running down into his beard. Your ears perk up at the mention of the ocean.  ‘Wait you mean the ocean! That's like a 5 month cart drive! Give or take if weather and such.” your voice chirps, your eyes brighten at the thought of the salty breeze.

 You take a chomp out of your (F/F) as he explains the mission that his leader sent him on

. “Keigo, dabi and toga i need you three to go west and find recruits, send them back this way we are finally going to take down the two kingdoms along the way, When you get to the ocean that is when you will turn around and come back.”

 Keigo looks at you and ponders “you want adventure, do you not?” 

Keigo quirks his eyebrow at you. You frantically nod your head. “Yes yes!! More than anything! My father has set up an arranged marriage and to hell with keeping the peace to the kingdom” You jump up on the bricks of where you were sitting “I rather see the world!” You exclaimed, pumping your fist into the air. 

Keigo grins “Well why don't you get a maid to gather clothes and meet me by the castle walls near the stables, tonight after dark?”

--

Later on you both went separate ways to avoid getting caught by iida and the other guards, The night set among the land, the quarter moon in the sky guiding your path to the outskirts of the kingdoms edge. 

“Mina i have to go, this is my only chance to get adventure! I won't be coming back, please come with me, won't you!” You held your bag in your arms, dawning a black cloak, money clattered in the coin purse as you pull against minas arm. “(Y/n) as much as i know you want adventure you know, your father will be mad if he finds you gone!” She huffs and pulls you back towards your room. 

“Tell him I died or something I don't care! I'm leaving this kingdom, and you're not stopping me!”  you exclaimed with tears in your eyes, jerking your arms back to your side. Mina looks at you, her eyes soften and a damn broke through, her cheeks flooded and pink. 

“Go, Ill cover for you” You embrace each other in a tight hug before your crawled down the makeshift bed sheet ropes and disappeared into the darkness. 

Giving one last look to the home you grew up in. The hell that was raised, your mother would be proud of you for leaving this greed filled kingdom. 

Dabi tapped his foot impatiently, “You said this girl would be here by now, Where is she!?” he barked, flicking the ash from his cigarette, keigo huffed and  stretched his neck looking over nothing to see if anyone was there Where is she? He pondered. Out of the shadows a small hooded figure comes running, a 2 large bag on its back and a large purse in the other.

Toga grins, looking up from her spot in the cart “oh? You made friends with the Princess I see now~” toga giggled as keigo brushed her off, lighting a torch and holding it out “Two stones!” he called out, dabi and toga give him a weird look before hearing. “With moss on the northside!” a soft voice returns 

Keigo jumps off the old wooden cart, his boots met the mud as your flats met the end of the stone road. You flipped your hood down allowing your (h/c) locks to fall into place. “So it is the princess, damn hawks. Boss will be pleased.” Dabi takes a drag, blowing out a cloud of ashy smoke. “Alright princess, load up, it's gonna be a long journey.” 

You get into action, tossing your bags into the bed of the worn cart, Toga leaning against the edge, looking you over. “This is certainly some change, a princess joining 3 commoners. I'm sure once the king finds out your missing, people will be after us.” The blond female giggles and sits back down, “Call me (Y/n) (L/N). please. No need to be formal, its stupid.” 

Keigo helps you into the cart and then jumps up into the passenger seat next to dabi. “Well you know who i am, This burnt bastard is dabi, Just dabi, he refuses to tell us his real name, and that little crazy next to you is Toga!”

Dabi whips the reins, causing the horses that pull the cart to move on. The clatter of hooves against the ground, the old night owl, singing his hunting song. The voices of the howling wolves, echo throughout the forest. Keigo takes off his magical jacket,  and a pair of beautiful deep  crimson wings emerge. Your eyes in wonder, “Wait you didn't tell me that you had wings, keigo!!” 

“Makes him look like a buzzard if you ask me!” Dabi chims as toga laughs. “Hah, Yeah each of us has some kind power, i'm a witch, dabi up there is a warlock and keigo is just cursed!” Toga explained. 

You look over the three with a warm smile. Adventure was well among its way, and youll be there to greet it with open arms