#I serve fanfics

[fabuloustrash05]

I’m gona eat ur art wether u want me to or not >:3

Nom nom

Um thank you, that's not my art, but thank you! lol

[proxycrit]

I interrupt my zelda posting with caitvi because Arcane changed my brain chemistry

(ight, now i go back on hiatus! If you want to see my sketchbook which I WILL be posting until the day I wither, check out patreon! Now excuse me as i crawl back into my warm little den)

((Im also currently significantly more active on my instagram posting commission work, if you wanna see it :0))

Edit: ah dang it the hyperfixation’s set in.

[marstar13]

As I promised and shall I deliver, as my promise is a word not to be broken or something idc

Agent Stone animatic inspired by the amazing fic "A Junk Yard of Possibilities" by CrazyforClones over in ao3

Credits to the author @crazyforclones 🫡

[justaz]

merthur marriage of convenience. arthur is complaining that his council is on his ass about marrying and siring an heir and they keep trying to arrange marriages but arthur doesn't fucking want any of them. merlin knows that arthur would like to marry someone he loves but he also knows that arthur has shown no interest in like anyone except when he was enchanted so like...who tf is he gonna marry? he needs to marry someone to get the council off his ass so he's just like "why not marry a friend? ik it wouldn't be a marriage of love but at least you'd have some control and choice in this." and arthur is like "hm. but who tho?"

anyways they make a list of everyone they know who can bear children (bc arthur will need an heir eventually). then they narrow it down, crossing off names like gwen bc she is happily married to lancelot and in a loving relationship with morgana (she has two hands and i love morgwencelot) and morgana (she's literally arthur's sister but they were just putting every name they could think of down first) and elyan (he may be able to bear children but they know he wouldn't be happy going through it bc of medieval dysphoria). eventually it's down to two names, mithian and merlin and arthur looks at merlin's name then up at him and is like "you're literally a trained physician so you should know this but you were literally born a man...how tf are you gonna bear children?" and my beloved genderfluid magic incarnate emrys just shifts her form to female and is like "don't be an idiot. anyways, mithian or me?"

dumb idiot whipped and in love arthur is like "you" and dumb idiot whipped and in love merlin is like "bet". anyways they marry but they're very insistent it's just as friends. lol they have to consummate the marriage the losers. they insist they did that as friends too. the entire round table has way too much fun with this. anyways they remain married "as friends" as they slowly morph into a very loving and touchy relationship "as friends" until they're like casually kissing as greetings and farewells and have that moment of "oh shit we're like actually married and in love" bc they're stupid dumb idiots.

anyways they unite albion and are recognized as high king arthur and high queen merlin and finally have an heir - the high prince/princess whatever you prefer. uhhhh anyways merthur happy ending bc i'm a sucker for it.

[madaqueue]

KEEP OUT THE COLD — suguru geto x f!reader

request | event masterlist | smut : trapped in a snowstorm (fingering, 1.2k)

the breath comes from your lips like a ghost, grey and foggy, almost real but never quite; you shiver.

“we might be stuck here,” suguru says, the first sign he’s returned with those light steps that carry him silently. he says the words carefully, placing them into the otherwise empty room besides the couch you’ve curled up into and the half-broken fireplace in the opposite corner. dark eyes watch for your reaction, wait for you to panic, or worse, cry.

“i think…i think the heat is b-broken.”

yes, you shiver, and yes, you look nearly frozen against the cracked leather cushions, but you don’t look terrified. when the tears never come, suguru laughs, and you swear the temperature goes up a few degrees.

“yeah, it is. i don’t think there’s any power in this place, at least not that i could find outside.” your chapped lips curl into a frown, and he chuckles again. “but i did find some wood out there. let’s light a fire and make the most of this, yeah?”

at the question, he tilts his head, remnants of snowflakes falling from his shoulders and onto the cabin’s old wooden floorboards. it makes you giggle when he does that - ‘you look like a dog’ you used to say, and he’d just smile. ‘i’d happily be your dog.’ - and sigh. “okay.”

“okay.” he claps his hands together and is gone.

when he returns, it’s with stacks of logs and more snow decorating his hair, friendly stars in an unfamiliar night sky. it’s dark outside now, you’re sure of it, even with the windows boarded closed to keep the wind out.

the attempt to drive in this weather had been stupid, you knew it was stupid, but both of you were too headstrong to heed anyone’s warnings. the resort was only a few hours away, how bad could it really be? and how long had it been since the two of you took a vacation together? no, you weren’t about to miss it for a few flurries.

ah. how stupid you had been. at least this abandoned little house had appeared through the blinding white just in time, the car’s wheels nearly spinning out as you pulled into the overgrown driveway.

a loud crackle pulls you back, back to the unfamiliar living room, the cold leather on your back, the icy air in your lungs. but then, a spark, and flames burn softly in the tiny fireplace.

suguru stares at it proudly, dusting a few remaining wood chips from his palms.

“how did you do that?” you ask - he loves when you get excited about things like this, when he gets to show off just a little.

“what can i say,” he grins, pride blooming between his teeth, “i’m a man of many talents.”

before you can even laugh, he’s pulled you into his lap, thick arms encasing your torso and holding you against him. with more frosty air circling around your body, you shiver again.

“now, let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

“yeah,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest.

it’s better already, with his cotton t-shirt on your skin, with his heartbeat below your cheek. your shaking slows, but doesn’t stop; above you, suguru frowns.

“your clothes are wet.”

“oh,” you murmur, “probably from the snow when we ran inside.”

three beats of his heart - he’s thinking. “you won’t get warm if your clothes are wet.”

“wha-”

before you can ask, he’s picked you up and placed you back on the couch (in his spot, where the leather is warmer), and gone into another room. this time, when he returns, blankets spill over his elbows and graze the floor.

they’re set next to you on the couch, before he’s leaning over you; hot breath tickles your ear when he speaks.

“you’ll never warm up with those clothes on. why don’t you take them off?” for me, goes unsaid.

when you shiver, it’s not from the cold.

the damp cloth is peeled painstakingly from your body - you wince at the loss, before being immediately wrapped in something softer. two layers of blankets, and suguru pulls you down next to him.

“there,” he sighs, letting his fingers trail over your jaw, the nape of your neck. “isn’t that better?”

it’s just the warmth that makes your cheeks burn, you swear - not the way he’s looking at you like you lit the sun, nor the way his lips curl to show teeth as if he’d like to swallow it whole.

“mhm.”

“ah,” he corrects, tapping a thumb to your lips. “what do we say?”

your skin tingles, vibrating, hot. “t-thank you suguru.”

“good,” he purrs.

there’s a giggle when he pulls his hand away and you let out a little whine, a small protest at the loss of contact, chilled in the absence of his palm.

“aw, still cold?”

you nod into his shoulder.

“well,” he breathes, pulling you further into him until you’re both laying across the couch, trapped under wool blankets, “i can help, if you’d like.”

“yes, please, suguru.” the words come out in a single exhale; he grins.

then, his hands are trailing lower. they dance along your collarbones, over your chest. one remains there, kneading the tender flesh of your tits, pinching already-hardened nipples (you’d blame the cold, if he asked; he’d let you lie to his face).

the other, meanwhile, ventures further.

down over your ribs, your stomach, your thighs. even in those narrow, lithe fingertips, everything is hot in their wake.

when they find their way between your legs, you shiver again. suguru chuckles, a puff of frosted air in the ever-closing space between you.

“still cold?” he chides, but the words have no bite to them, even when you can see his canines digging into his lower lip. “so needy.”

a whimper escapes your throat, but that seems to be the correct response, because suguru finally brushes his thumb against your clit. it makes you gasp, and nearly choke from the stiff air filling your lungs. he just grins.

“aw, you really do need me to help you, don’t you?”

“y-yes.”

“yes, what?”

“yes, please, suguru.”

“good.” teeth that could chew apart stars; a finger finally sunk into your aching cunt. you keen, and the hand on your chest holds you tighter.

a second finger, and you’re writhing in his grasp. when he kisses you, it sucks the light from every corner of the room, until he’s glowing (he’d provide for you in every way if he could; he’d be your sun and pull the moon from the sky so night never touched you, so you’d only ever need him, his warmth).

hot fingertips press into you, into the spot that has your legs shaking, skin sweating. each pant clouds between your open mouth and his, aching, pulling, burning.

“suguru, i’m gonna-”

a low hum, one that emanates from his chest. a correction, a reminder.

“suguru, c-can i please cum?”

soft lips smile against your chapped ones. “of course.”

and with that, his wrist picks up, deeper, harder, faster. fingers pull and pinch at your nipples, teeth sink into your neck. you whine out his name as you finish, until you’re foggy and limp in his arms.

you barely catch the way he pulls his hand from your legs, lifting it to his lips and sucking your cum from it, but you taste it when he kisses you again, hot and claiming.

a soft palm rubs up your spine, and you melt into the touch. he tucks you into his shoulder for safe keeping.

“warm enough?” he asks. you mutter something, liquid words he knows are ‘yes, suguru,’ into his skin. the flickering fire dances across his eyes, and he holds you tighter.

a/n: KAIROOOO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR LOVING THIS STRANGE COMPLEX MAN WITH ME!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

[deepspacenova]

Crimson Destruction

As a war rages on, Sylus finds himself closer to peace than he'd ever been. The start of his plans, his future, it's just one battle away. But fate might have other plans.

➻➻ ABOUT | 4000 words. sylus x fem!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | heavy angst. war and battle. blood/injury. major character death.

NOTE: This draws a lot of parallels with Sylus' myth and portrays a bit of history repeating itself. Apologies in advance for any pain and suffering this might cause, guess this one's for the masochists — so make sure to read those warnings (:

Inspired by this ask and i think i may have... over-delivered? Either way, I hope I did your prompt justice @huachengnism <3

Also, bc no ideas are original, I was half done writing this when I found this post by @relentlessconqueror, who I apparently share at least a few brain cells with when it comes to headcanons so *fist bump*

She struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the exertion of the escape. Her ribs screamed with every inhale, bruised from the last blow she’d taken before breaking free, and every bone in her body ached.

It'd been hours since Mephisto miraculously landed on the bars of her cell in the depths of the Association's intricate Wanderer prison system with an all-access key card. But she — they, she corrected as she felt the reassuring pressure of the crow's talons perch on her shoulder — were alive and unhurt. 

The battle had moved to what little remained of the newest No Hunt Zone: what was once known as Linkon City Centre. The once bustling hub that had been full of people and livelihoods had been reduced to a crater on the planet’s surface, destroyed by violence, explosions, and carnage. Linkon was falling, neighborhood by neighborhood, consumed by chaos orchestrated by the Hunter’s Association. Their relentless pursuit of her — the so-called Traitorous Tenebra — had left a trail of destruction in their wake.

She'd barely survived the Alpha Team's brutal "interrogation," which had brought her to the brink of unconsciousness when they demanded information she refused to give. But it was their arrogance and the surrounding destruction of their crusade to capture the elusive leader of Onychinus that let her slip through their grasp.

Now, she had one goal: find Sylus so they could escape this nightmare.

It was easy to predict how today would go — Ever Group’s unrelenting thirst for domination and the Hunter's Association’s relentless pursuit of Onychinus and aether cores made for a volatile duo. But no one, not even Sylus, who had an uncanny knack for understanding human nature, could have foreseen how they would fuel each other’s chaos, turning the Linkon into a nightmare of their own making.

Bloodthirsty men who called themselves "researchers" with protocore-powered ammunition stormed the streets, piercing through civilians like arrows of death. She'd done all she could to defend the innocents of Linkon from afar with the Hunter weapons she’d swiped on her way out of the Association. But only so many could be saved while it seemed like countless others met their ends.

Of course, the Hunters had their own twisted methods for submission. The few teams she'd spotted were taking protocore-inlaid weapons while Wanderers followed their commands like the puppets Xander Sciences made them to be. The very creatures the Association set out to destroy, now wielded like oversized hellhounds to take down Onychinus' leader, "the harbinger of doomsday in Linkon."

She couldn't help but scoff at their zealous fanaticism. And she was the Tenebra.

Bodies and blood were strewn across the cobblestone and the asphalt, and there were far more dead from their side than she’s sure they had predicted in their arrogance. But the fate of Ever’s defeat loomed over the rubble like the mythological Hades, waiting to collect his souls. 

She watched for a few minutes as the attacks grew more spaced apart, deciding that now was the perfect time to send the signal to Sylus. She’d only had a glimpse of his black-red mist and that was hours ago. All she’d wanted to do was cup the reassuring beat of his heart in her hands, to feel his hand wrap around the back of her head, pressing her nose into the warmth of his neck. 

Now was the time. They were done here. Done with this place. 

She looked at the thunderclouds overhead, swelling with eagerness to spill their deluge of water over the landscape. She removed the dark red gem around her wrist before her hands rose to clasp it over her companion's sturdy neck. Her fingers trailed the cold metal of her crow's studded wing when she murmured, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend. Now, Mephisto. Go."

His mechanical wings unfolded before he launched into the stormy sky. She watched the crimson glimmer as he soared with a fluid grace and precision that made him as real to her as any other crow.

Sylus would know to meet her now.  

Sylus surveyed the No Hunt Zone from the neighborhood’s tallest building, atop the skeletal remains of empty flats that had somehow stayed standing. He was up there for a better vantage point, sure, but he also had to distance himself from the eye-stinging smoke that had surrounded him below as well as the eerily familiar, nausea-inducing smell of burning flesh. 

But he wasn’t going to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. That was then, this is now. 

He'd purposefully stayed within sight of Linkon's supposed saviors and the battle, moving just enough to keep their attention fixed on him. He darted between buildings, his black-red mist filtering through the haze of smoke, a deliberate lure to give her a chance to make it above ground and send him their signal.

He felt a faint trace of her energy only an hour ago as he moved around, commanding and powerful, the only source of water in a desert of death.

Sylus' heart almost beat out of his chest in anticipation of being with her without time limits, without restraint, and he did his best to tamp down that feeling he forbade himself to feel since he was a dragon with his first love: hope. 

But he couldn’t avoid the promise of their escape. It wrapped around him and took the form of her body, making him feel a longing so fierce, he had to force his feet to stay on the stone until Mephisto arrived. 

The firing shots and pained cries were getting fewer and far between, with no shadows of Wanderers moving within sight. The battle was almost over. 

As Sylus squinted to see if any of his men lay among the dead, his ears caught a rhythmic flapping, prompting him to extend his forearm. When he felt the cold weight of the robot's body land on his arm, two things happened at once.

One, his gaze locked on his bracelet's twin, the garnet-colored gem winking at him as he took it off the crow's neck and clenched his palm around it. Two, at the same time, Mephisto's beak opened to reveal the recording device within and the only voice he ever wanted to hear rang out, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend."

The sound of the words surrounded him like an embrace. Fiend.

He froze in delighted disbelief and couldn’t help it. He laughed. A loud, genuine laugh. It sounded gravelly and unpracticed, feeling foreign on his battle-hardened cheeks, but he couldn’t contain his relief. 

They were done here. 

Mephisto trailed Sylus like a shadow in the sky as he headed toward the N109 Zone, smirking all the way. Very much the opposite of the expression a man who’d just sacrificed everything he’d built on this planet, whose organization had been disintegrated by the Hunters Association, should be wearing. 

He glanced back every so often at Linkon behind him, a scorched blemish on the landscape. 

Impatient, Sylus tried to seek her out with his evol and swore he could feel her heading his way. He was half-tempted to haul her to him, her complaints of manhandling be damned.

The abandoned buildings in the N109 Zone stood like silent witnesses, their jagged edges silhouetted against the unnaturally bright moon. 

He glanced around and whispered her name a few times. When no one answered back he leaned against a crumbling wall, waiting for her. The moon seemed brighter in the sky.

That was when he saw the sinister glow of emerald eyes in the alley. 

A sharp crack split the air, as Sylus’ power surged forward, barely stopping a metaflux-infused bullet mid-air and disintegrating it into nothing before it pierced his chest. 

"Impressive," a guttural voice growled from the darkness. 

The lead scientist of Xander Sciences emerged and Sylus’ lips twisted into a grimace. The maniac had fused himself with a Wanderer. 

The aether core Ever had attempted to manufacture had done more than just augment him — it had warped him completely. Whatever remained of his humanity was buried under a grotesque amalgamation of man and Wanderer. Ugly green scales shimmered under the moonlight, and claws scraped the concrete as he moved.

"I was wondering when you’d crawl out of your hole," Sylus said, his voice calm and unbothered. 

The monster sneered, revealing his jagged face. "You’ve meddled with us for the last time. This planet is mine to reshape. You won’t stand in our way."

He moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blur. He slashed with his claws, but Sylus ducked, releasing a burst of energy that sent him skidding backward. The hybrid roared, firing another shot, but Sylus twisted his hand, bending the energy around him to absorb the bullet’s momentum before redirecting it in a volatile arc that scorched the ground at the monster’s feet.

The battle was a storm of power. The hybrid lunged, his claws tearing through the air, but Sylus met him head-on, energy crackling from his fists as they clashed. Each blow lit up the darkness, casting crimson shadows on the crumbling walls around them.

"You’re nothing but a monster now," Sylus gritted out, his voice strained as he deflected another strike. "Even your own tech couldn’t handle your ambition."

He laughed, the sound a guttural snarl. "Ambition is evolution. And evolution demands sacrifice!"

Sylus wasn’t winning this fight, though. He’d already won. 

The hybrid had definitely been injured in battle, or he might’ve just been drunk on bloodlust, but either way, his attacks were haphazard and sloppy at best. Sylus was just looking for the right opening, baiting him so he could deliver her final strike against him. 

Sylus’ evol surged, spiraling around him in a black-red maelstrom of raw power. He struck the ground with his fist, sending a shockwave that threw the monster off balance. Taking the opening, Sylus launched forward, his fist colliding with its jagged jaw, cracking scales and sending it stumbling.

But he recovered, the gun in his beastly hand raised as he fired a spray of bullets, each one infused with metaflux. Sylus dodged, but one grazed his arm, searing through his jacket and burning his skin.

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his frustration into his power, summoning a massive sphere of energy. "This ends now," Sylus growled.

The sphere expanded, its glow lighting up the area around them. With a roar, Sylus hurled it at his enemy, picturing the faces of the hundreds, thousands of humans and monsters alike who had wronged him. Wronged her.

The hybrid tried to counter, his claws swiping through the air to absorb the energy, but the sheer force of Sylus’s attack overwhelmed him. The explosion rocked the area, sending debris flying and shrouding the battlefield in smoke.

When the dust settled, the brilliant Carter of Xander Sciences lay motionless, his hybrid body cracked and broken. Sylus stood over him, breathing heavily, his evol flickering around him like a lightning storm.

"Evolution demands sacrifice," Sylus echoed, his voice low. "Guess you were right about that."

She sighed as she spotted the outskirts of the N109 Zone and headed toward their spot, toward Sylus. She knew he’d be there waiting for her, knew he'd gotten her signal when she saw the silhouette of a black crow sailing through the sky. 

She couldn’t wait to be with him unreservedly, without ever having to leave his side again. She found herself getting excited, feeling a breathless sort of anticipation. Her body ached, the pain of old wounds and new wounds alike coming together throughout her body. And it took all of her willpower to stay cautious of stragglers, to not to break into a sprint. 

But her willpower was no match for hope. No match for the smile that slowly dominated every inch of her face. 

She’d never been so overjoyed, so relieved. So overcome with the need to see his vermillion-streaked eyes, taste teasing smirk, feel his silver-streaked hair. 

The journey felt endless, like she was the Greek king Sisyphus, eternally destined to never reach her only goal. But finally, finally, she could see the haphazard border of the N109 Zone.

When she was just a few dozen feet away, she spotted him, reclined against a stone wall near a felled wanderer, spotlighted by the moon like her very own star.

She paused to compose herself, holding back her stupid tears of joy, of relief. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she was okay with that, content to steal a moment of gazing at him for herself. 

But then he stirred, his eyes lifting to meet hers, and her breath hitched. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, but it softened when he noticed the way she looked at him, the way her entire being seemed to collapse with relief.

“You’re late,” he called to her. 

She broke into a run, ignoring the protests of her body, her legs barely able to keep pace with the urgency in her chest. “Sylus!”

He stayed in place, his arms opening as she barreled into him, wrapping herself around him. The warmth of his body and traces of his evol enveloped her, buzzing against her skin like a thousand kisses.

One of his arms slipped down to wrap her leg around his waist and held it there, as if the pressure of her chest against his wasn't nearly enough. She felt the warmth of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth on the space between her neck and shoulder as he tentatively nipped her there, like he was infusing himself into her.

She pulled back with a gasp to look up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. His greedy gaze faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, as his eyes searched hers.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips met his in a rush of emotion—relief, joy, desperation—all spilling into that single moment. For a heartbeat, he froze, startled, before his hands moved to cup her face, pulling her closer. His evol flared, an electric hum that danced between them, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest to her palm, which caressed the pulse of his neck.

“Careful, sweetie, I might start thinking you like me,” he rasped, his voice rough and playful as his hand slid to the small of her back, holding her close.

She laughed through the lump in her throat, clinging to him tightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, ruby gaze sparkling with mischief. His brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You look like hell.”

“I’ll live,” she reassured, leaning into his touch. “I just… needed to see you.”

He sighed as if the words were a balm, hand still cradling her face. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Because this big fiend will hunt you down if you leave my sight. Or—" he let go of her leg to circle her wrist and fasten her half of their bracelet around her wrist. "—dare to take this off again."

“Not a chance,” she whispered into his throat, wrapping her arms around him to clasp the bracelet with her other palm, as if printing its jagged shape into her wrist. “No matter how many times the world turns its back on us, I’m never leaving your side.”

The moment took up the entire lens of her focus, so she didn’t spot the other silhouette skulking from the entrance of the N109 Zone.

Sylus felt the shift a second too late.

The sharp, metallic click of a gun broke the fragile quiet, the sound slicing through the air like a knife.

She turned toward the sound and Sylus saw her eyes widen, not with fear, but with recognition.

“Jenna,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

From the shadows stepped her former leader, the woman who had once been her mentor. Jenna's presence was a weapon in itself, Sylus knew —steely, unyielding, and absolute. A metaflux-infused dagger was already raised aimed directly at Sylus.

“Did you really think I needed all the prison guards? I knew where he went, you’d follow,” Jenna’s voice sliced through the air, her voice razor-sharp as she spoke to her and aimed a disgusted glance at Sylus. "The perfect bait."

Without hesitation, she threw the blade like a dart.

"No!" she screamed as Sylus pushed her away from him, the blade slicing his cheek and eye, leaving a burning streak of pain and a hazy right field of vision in its wake.

Pain erupted like a white-hot brand as the impact shattered the aether core in his eye. Blood and fragments of glowing green dripped down his face in a torrent, obscuring his vision.

He staggered, his breath hitching as agony lanced through his skull. The disorienting mix of searing pain and the flickering in his right eye overwhelmed him, and he stumbled.

Through the haze of pain, he could feel the core’s fragments still burning into him and the world around him blurred as his mind fought to regain focus.

A frustrated sob behind him made his blood run cold.

Raising his head, his heart dropped as he saw Jenna’s gun aimed not at Sylus but at her aether core. Her heart. Jenna's other hand had forcefully raised her elbow, aiming his beloved's gun at Sylus' chest.

“You had such promise, young Hunter," Jenna continued, her tone lamenting. "But you should’ve known better than to run from your fate.”

“Jenna, please—”

Something sinister flickered across Jenna's face before vanishing into her practiced calm. “I taught you everything. And this… is how you repay me?” Her tone was as merciless and final. "Now you either kill him, or I kill you."

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. He tried to reach out toward her, tried desperately to yank her back to him and take her away, but his evol didn't respond.

Jenna only smirked, her grip tightening as she tilted her head. “Your fate has always been sealed. But hers… Well, that depends on how obedient she feels.” She shrugged coldly. “Now shoot him."

Sylus' mind raced as his blurry gaze locked onto the watery anger of her eyes, familiar to him for longer than this planet's entire existence.

"Do it." He ignored her cry of indignant fury at his unmistakable command as he spoke cruel words wrapped in a loving tone.

"Sylus, no."

Inhaling through the pain he exhaled a shaky, almost impatient sigh. She had to do this, had to know he was okay with a world without him in it. "You bluffed once before in this position, kitten. Don't let a second chance pass you by."

"Stop!" The hand being forcefully aimed at his heart was shaking.

Suddenly a fierce resolve burned behind her eyes at his words, at the memory.

Her quaking hand suddenly steadied and her fingers adjusted their grip on the gun, and for a moment, relief overcame the pain in Sylus' body when he thought of her shooting him and ending it once and for all.

But — his cunning little kitten — she outmaneuvered them all.

She twisted her wrist, aimed the barrel at her chest, and pulled the trigger.

The deafening crack of the gunshot rang out, the impact jerking her frame as the bullet pierced right through her and struck Jenna, who staggered backward, eyes wide with shock as crimson bloomed on her Hunter's uniform.

Letting her go, Jenna clutched at her chest as she fell to the ground.

And the world slowed to a crawl.

The visceral scream that tore through his throat was a feral sound, an ancient, animalistic roar that was both agonized and shrill enough to become a death knell for every living being in Linkon. In the world.

Sylus’ legs buckled as he caught the weight of her body. His knees hit the concrete, and his arms tightened around her as he laid her trembling form on the ground.

“No, no, no,” he growled, his voice cracking as he pressed his hands against the flickering, shattered aether core in her chest, desperate to stem the flow of blood.

Her face was scrunched up tight in excruciating pain, but she was still alive. He could work with that. He would. 

“Fuck. You’re okay, kitten, you’re okay,” he crooned. He ignored the blood dripping from his eye to her chest and tried linking his hands through hers, tried to get her to resonate with him, to activate either of their evols so he could at least attempt to—

But her hands were bloody and trembling and limp.

"It's okay, Sylus. It's... alright," she soothed, wincing. "There's no choice, if it's between you and me. No choice."

A half-growl, half-sob escaped him. “Yes, and that choice is always you. Now look at me so I can fix your mistake and figure out how to— no, you're not allowed to close your eyes."

He paused during his diatribe, noticing just how much of his blood and hers had pooled beneath them, just how pale her lips were getting.

“There’s no saving this, Sylus.” Her unfocused eyes met his, hand hovering in the air weakly to pull his face down and place a kiss on his forehead.

The familiarity of the feeling overwhelmed him, like a thousand cuts of grief all at once. His groan sounded like a whimper as he pulled back to grab her hand and press it into the ravaged side of his face.

"Jenna was wrong.... about your fate." She inhaled a ragged breath. "We just made sure of it. There's no going back now."

All he could do was shake his head and imprint her hand over his eye, cold reality starting to fall like ashes around him.

When grey wisps started to sprinkle her hair and rest against her eyelashes, he realized it was actual ash. To some, it might’ve been beautiful; to him, it was devastating. Their souls were separating again, except this time, she was the one leaving him.

"If I ever had a soul—" he exhaled a shaky breath, blinked past the wetness that blurred his good eye, "—just know that it was you."

"You'll always be tied to me, Sylus. Forever." Her breaths were faster, shallower.

Her cheek twitched up and her eyelashes fluttered as suddenly, weak little notes squeezed their way out of her chest. His hand tightened around hers as the familiar melody embraced him and finally made the chest-wracking emotions drip salty trails down his cheek.

As the final note of her requiem faded, there was a long silence.

He waited for her voice again, for more words, but when he pulled back her chest was a pool of crimson and her eyes were closed.

She was gone, and he was in agony.

Suffering had long created a hole in his blackened heart. But this pain was unlike anything he’d felt before. It enveloped him, suffocated him.

And that’s when he found it. That small pebble of rage beneath the mountain of anguish. 

He set her on the ground as gently as he could before getting up and sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, focusing on the anger so he could escape his grief. 

He felt it latch onto faint, flickering traces of his evol and the two powers laced together like two lovers, moving through his body, his fingertips.

He almost felt drunk with it.

He didn't notice it at first, he was still fixated on his beloved's lifeless face, but there was a soft glow radiating from the shattered remnants of their aether cores.

Black-red mist twitched restlessly and began to stretch outward.

“The day of judgment is today. Everyone will pay for this,” said Sylus, his voice utterly calm. “The whole world will burn.”

[lostreverb]

bed chem (short n' sweet)

(colin zabel x fem!reader) your internship just got more interesting...

warnings / content: not really proofread, age gap (reader is 20-22, colin's like 32-34), swearing, perv!reader tbh, NSFW - masturbation (toys) + fingering (fem receiving), p in v

(this fic is a part of my short n' sweet collection!) a/n: every time i listen to this song i think of colin like he's just so... AHHHHHHHHHH i've literally had this idea since the album came out! tried to incorporate as many lyrics as i could idk how well i did tho!

--

the easttown police department wasn’t exactly a hub of thrilling action. that was probably a good thing for the town, but for you, it made the days of your internship drag endlessly. stuck behind a desk, processing minor domestic disputes and petty incidents, the hours stretched out. you couldn’t help but wish that, just once, you’d be allowed to join an officer out in the field. to witness a slice of the town's life up close instead of through dry reports. but no, you were stuck in the back office, relying on your imagination to fill in the blanks while you typed up incident after incident.

on this particular afternoon, you were making your way down the hallway with a precariously high stack of files balanced in your arms. you could feel the papers shift, hear the quiet rustle of their movement as they started to slide. panic gripped you briefly—this was going to be embarrassing. you were already imagining the cascade of documents scattering across the floor, how you’d have to drop to your knees and scramble to gather them up, probably while everyone watched. just as the stack tilted dangerously to one side, a hand swooped in, catching the top section before it could tumble.

"here, lemme help you with that," a man said, accompanied by a friendly smile. a smile too relaxed, too bright for this quiet, indifferent corner of pennsylvania.

grateful, you gestured toward your desk a few feet away. "thanks," you mumbled, trying not to sound too embarrassed as you placed the files down with a sigh of relief. he set the rescued papers down beside yours, glancing at you with a foreign look. like he actually saw you as a person instead of the intern that does the shit no one else wants to do.

"you doin' okay?" he asked. his concern seemed genuine, which again, took you a second to process.

"yeah! yeah, i'm good!" you responded, a little too enthusiastically perhaps, as you straightened the files in a futile effort to regain your composure. "thank you."

the man chuckled softly. "you know, sometimes it’s easier just to take the two trips." he shot you a wink that made your pulse quicken. "speakin' from experience," he added, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret. "when i was in your shoes, i had to learn the hard way."

the chief called him over and, after a charismatic "duty calls" farewell, he walked off. you sat down at your desk, face hurting from the corners of your mouth being lifted for so long, but you couldn't bring them down.

you buried your face into your arms, letting your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk for a few minutes. if anyone saw the flush creeping up your cheeks, you’d never hear the end of it. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling, willing yourself to get back to work. but the more you tried to focus, the more impossible it became.

why? because guess whose office was in clear view of your desk? mare's. and guess who was now in mare's office quite adorably rehearsing a conversation with himself?

yeah... you were done for.

the man's lips moved slightly as if he was practicing lines for a play, his brow furrowed in concentration, and every so often, he’d run a hand through his neatly cropped hair, or shake his head in disapproval, looking entirely too charming for his own good.

you needed to find out who he was right away. what was he there to talk to mare about? was he a detective? why couldn't you stop thinking about him pinning you against a wall?

unable to live with the mystery you pushed yourself up from your chair and marched over to the nearest officer, your pulse still racing. "hey—uh, hello." you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. "who’s the cute guy in mare’s office? you know, uh.."

wide brown eyes, chiseled jawline..

"navy jacket- big briefcase."

the officer looked up, raising an eyebrow at your blunt description before glancing toward the office. "county guy chief brought in to help with the katie bailey case," he replied nonchalantly. "last name's zabel if i remember right."

you nodded, pretending like that was enough to satisfy your curiosity, but then another officer nearby chimed in with a smirk. "that’s him? poor guy’s gonna be in for it."

they quickly devolved into their own conversation, talking shop and completely forgetting you were even standing there. under normal circumstances, their dismissal might’ve bugged you, but you had bigger priorities now.

back at your desk, you grabbed your phone and opened up a browser, your fingers flying across the screen. within moments, you’d found him. detective colin zabel of delaware county. recently praised for solving a cold case involving a missing 10-year-old girl—a feat that had earned him respect in the force and beyond.

you couldn’t help but grin. of course he was the hero detective. it made perfect sense. but now that you knew who he was, it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach any easier to ignore.

when mare had finally arrived, you watched the awkward interaction between the two of them. colin outstretched his hand only for her to disregard his formalities. you saw it coming, but it didn't make it any less painful to observe.

you waited until she had left (which wasn't very long) to discreetly travel over to the office. the door was open so you knocked on the frame.

"it's not personal. she's got a lot going on" you said with an understanding smile.

at the sound of your voice, colin turned around, giving a deflated chuckle towards your remark. "you er- saw that whole thing?"

"my desk is right there" you said, pointing, the two stacks of files barely touched. "sorry i kinda.. visually eavesdropped"

"no worries-" colin briefly smiled at your humorous confession then looked away. "uhhhhhh- did you need somethin'?"

"just wanted to introduce myself" you said, extending your hand out. "i'm y/n"

when he firmly took yours in his, your eyes couldn't help but flicker down and notice the veins that decorated them. a thought crossed your mind about where they might show up on other parts of his body.

"that's a pretty name"

you looked up from the grip your two hands were intertwined in, colin's attentive dark eyes on you.

"thank you.." you said softly, pulling away. shit, why were you out of breath? "uhm- i read about that... that case you solved? amazing work"

"oh- that was- i'm not-" he scratched the back of his head, trying to find words to minimize the accomplishment. you didn't know what was more attractive—hearing him stumble over his words or his humility. "we brought her home you know? that's what matters"

you nodded earnestly in response. "100%... well let me know if you need anythin'. i know people here can be a bit closed off but it's not all that bad."

"yeah thanks... nice to know i got a friend already" he smiled.

a friend... for now.

--

seeing as he was always in the back of your mind, and you couldn't care less about filling out reports, daydreaming about colin became your favorite past time. and every smile, every corny joke he greeted you with only fueled your crush.

it wasn't long before you noticed he had his eyes on mare, but the way he stared at you while you spoke about your criminology major... crossing his built arms, leaning forward on his desk to show you he was really listening. the way he'd routinely check on you and stop by your desk to chat....

for god's sake he started to get you coffee every morning.

there had to be something there... right? something more between you than mere camaraderie.

you definitely thought so. and thought about it often.. in bed.

eyes closed, you pictured colin's body hovering over yours. you could discern his toned figure from the form fitted button-ups he wore.. he'd have absolutely no problem picking you up and turning you over, manhandling you... though he probably wouldn't. he's too sweet for that. so sweet... and yet no ring? colin seemed like the type of man who should've had a wife and 2 kids by now...

maybe you could be the one to give that to him.

not now of course.

one day though.

still thinking of him you reached down into your panties, playing with your delicate folds in the caring manner you imagined him to have.

"so beautiful" he'd whisper, pumping two slick digits in and out of you at a sensual pace.

gasping moans escaped from your mouth as your fingers moved faster, the squelching sound of your fluids filling the room.

"that's it... god, i love how y'sound..."

belt unbuckled, he'd pull down his pants and boxers in one swift motion revealing his hard cock ready to drive into you. from underneath your bed you grab your dildo—oversized and veiny as colin would be and removed your now-soaked underwear.

he'd smile against your lips as he slotted himself between your legs, your body accommodating as he entered. after he'd ask (quite endearningly) if you're okay, you'd quickly nod, giving him permission to continue.

you try to imagine the expression of lust on his face... the sound of his deep groans in your ear as you fucked yourself gently, attempting to emulate your bodies rocking together in synced movement, the riveting sensation of the veins against your walls sending shockwaves through your body.

"fuck... oh my god" you panted, feeling the heat build up in your core. you were close.

"let go, i've got you... taking me like this, you're doing so well... makin' me feel so good..."

you increase the pace at which you pummel the dildo into your quivering cunt, eyes rolling back as you reach your climax, your body left trembling.

with colin, your sure you'd probably both arrive at the same time.

but for now you just had to live with unsatisfaction of not feeling his warm release coating your insides.

--

the next morning the chief had called you into his office.

a grin spread on your face as the he detailed the new program the department was implementing, how you'd finally be able to shadow an officer like you'd hoped when you first applied for the internship.

"any officer you have a preference to be paired with?"

you turned your head and caught colin's gaze through the office window. he was deep in conversation with mare, but when he noticed you, he gave a small wave. you smiled back, feeling a slight flutter.

"yeah, i’ve got someone in mind."

--

extra note: part two coming (hopefully soon!) it'll be based off the song "busy woman"!

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8

[hemi-demi]

Daily reminder that if you're enjoying some fanfic, and you want to see more of that person's work, that comments mean so, so much more than kudos and bookmarks ever can!

They can be long, heart wrenching love letters to the details and nuances of their writing. Can be pulling your favorite quotes from chapters and making little comments, or – when in doubt – just bark at people. Barking is fun

However you decide, know that even just a bunch of ❤️❤️❤️ can mean the difference between fanwriters and artists just giving up entirely. Fandom is a conversation, so get to yapping!

[englishsub]

book rec by me

so you want to get back into reading books but have no idea where to start and disdain booktok (if you get me started on this however i will become an unskippable cutscene so that's for another day). understandable. there is so much out there and it is all so overwhelming and you don't even know what you like now that you've been a decade out of the game. again, understandable. it does not have to be scary. i will help you. below i have created some categories that can get you started.

i want to read Literature

literary fiction, with crossover from historical fiction and magical realism

PEACH BLOSSOM SPRING by melissa fu

THE VASTER WILDS by lauren groff

THE FAMILY CHAO by lan samantha chang

OUTER DARK by cormac mccarthy

SEVERANCE by ling ma

LIGHT FROM UNCOMMON STARS by ryka aoki

IDENTITTI by mithu m. sanyal

PIRANESI by susanna clarke

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that won't break my brain

sci-fi and fantasy that is gentler on the brain cells. easier to grasp magic systems with multiple but not an overwhelming number of overlapping plotlines

EMILY WILDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by heather fawcett

KINGS OF THE WYLD by nicholas eames

THE JASMINE THRONE by tasha suri

THE CITY OF BRASS by s.a. chakraborty

A RIVER ENCHANTED by rebecca ross

JUNIPER AND THORN by ava reid

BLACK SUN by rebecca roanhorse

THE FINAL STRIFE by saara el-arifi

THE BONE SHARD DAUGHTER by andrea stewart

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that forces me to lock the fuck in

i would not recommend picking these up as your first foray back into books after many years of not reading recreationally, but i'm not your mom.

THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER by simon jimenez

JADE CITY by fonda lee

THE FIFTH SEASON by n.k. jemisin

THE RAGE OF DRAGONS by evan winter

A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE by arkady martine

GIDEON THE NINTH by tamsyn muir

THE ART OF PROPHECY by wesley chu

THE GRACE OF KINGS by ken liu

horrify me!

there is far more to the horror literary canon than stephen king and dean koontz, i promise. consider looking up warnings for these.

TENDER IS THE FLESH by agustina bazterrica

THE RUINS by scott smith

CONFESSIONS by kanae minato

EPISODE THIRTEEN by craig dilouie

REPRIEVE by james han mattson

MARY by nat cassidy

DEAD SILENCE by s.a. barnes

AUDITION by ryu murakami

THE SALT GROWS HEAVY by cassandra khaw

don't care, i want romance

some of these feature crossover genres, like fantasy and horror.

VAMPIRES OF EL NORTE by isabel cañas

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON GODDESS by sue lynn tan

SEVEN DAYS IN JUNE by tia williams

HAPPY PLACE by emily henry

ONE DARK WINDOW by rachel gillig

i want QUEER romance

again, a mix of historical, fantasy, and contemporary crossover genres.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by cat sebastian

IN MEMORIAM by alice winn

MOST ARDENTLY by gabe cole novoa

A STRANGE AND STUBBORN ENDURANCE by foz meadows

A MARVELLOUS LIGHT by freya marske

THE EMPEROR AND THE ENDLESS PALACE by justinian huang

SPELL BOUND by f.t. lukens

SORRY, BRO by taleen voskuni

ONE LAST STOP by casey mcquiston

DELILAH GREEN DOESN'T CARE by ashley herring blake

i haven't felt anything since i read percy jackson/the hunger games in middle school/high school

adventure is still out there.

SCYTHE by neil shusterman

WE HUNT THE FLAME by hafsah faizal

SIX OF CROWS by leigh bardugo

GEARBREAKERS by zoe hana mikuta

i'll read anything that's not straight or white

many books in the above categories fit this, but here's even more, across a variety of genres.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by malinda lo

BABEL by r.f. kuang

WHEN THE RECKONING COMES by latanya mcqueen

THE UNBROKEN by c.l. clark

IF YOU'LL HAVE ME (graphic novel) by eunnie

LEGEND OF THE WHITE SNAKE by sher lee

THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by shelley parker-chan

"all ya books suck"

like any other genre or book age group, there are duds and there are standouts. ya is not special in this regard. try some of these!

DIVINE RIVALS by rebecca ross

STRIKE THE ZITHER by joan he

THE RED PALACE by june hur

A STUDY IN DROWNING by ava reid

EMPIRE OF SAND by tasha suri

LEGENDBORN by tracy deonn

i check out and read a lot of these books for free via my local library by using the libby app (you can even add your friends' library cards to gain access to libraries in places you don't live). when i'm feeling like reading via audiobook, i use libro fm!

look, no one HAS TO read diversely. no one is going to be reverse fahrenheit 451'd and locked in a room with no fanfic and only books and not let out until they work their way through the entire literary canon. but reading, and reading widely, and reading diversely, is what teaches people to form their own opinions and question the things they are told. it's why they hang up stuff like "READ READ READ!!" in grade school classrooms.

we live under systems that increasingly benefit from going unquestioned. no, of course reading ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE by robin hobb is not going to dismantle these systems tomorrow, nor probably even in our lifetimes. but doing it will help set up a world capable of doing it in the future. and until further notice, we are all part of this wretched world. might as well read a good story while we're here.

anyway, i'm reading THE WEST PASSAGE by jared pechaček and the new cmq book this week.

[tyunniebbang]

baby, you're teething | p.sh blurb

tw // mentions of blood

(a/n: i wanted to write a little of fluff for hoon but idk what happened at the end... oops)

"come on hoon, it's only been a few hours since you were awake—"

"mmfgh, no, it hurts..." you can hear sunghoon whining over the muffled noises of him biting your shirt, gnawing on it like a little child. honestly, he might as well be one since he's been tagging alongside you all day and pulling on your clothing with no care.

ever since a few weeks ago, sunghoon has been constantly grumbling about his teeth hurting — especially his new canines.

not that you were complaining about having a vampire as boyfriend, but it's getting slightly annoying.

you try patting his head away to cue him, but nothing works so you resort to straight up pulling his hair to rip your vampire off you.

and they said vampires were scary and terrifying blood suckers..?

"y/n, pleaseee just this once it hurts so fucking bad and- OW!" he returns you a glare, squishing his right cheek like a toothache. coming home every night to a hyperactive boy, handling his mood swings whenever a new wave of pain spikes him... plainly said, it's horrible. you would have never expected the cold prince to be this cute.

"come on, your poor boyfriend is in pain, he's a newborn, and he just turned. just let me bite you, please baby!"

he's teething, and both of you were equally aware of this phase when he first turned. a newly born vampire starts to develop their canines for a few weeks, just like how a human child would with their milk teeth.

admittedly, he looks incredibly hot with a pair of sharp teeth, especially when the man unknowingly smirks and flashes those white gold.

scratch that, because Incredibly Hot Man is trying so hard to scramble for an empty piece of your neck right now. he has crawled up your body and placed firm grips on your shoulders to nose your collarbone.

his warm breath tendrils down your spine, caressing you. in contrast, you feel his cold sharp canines starting to graze your delicate skin, as he continues to scratch it deeper and deeper into the surface.

"please, just one bite, hm? that's all i want, i'll be so good after that, i won't bother you anymore."

and when he gets the green light from your timid nod, you know he's going all for it as he plunges in for his treat.

(extra scene (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~)

"park sunghoon i'm bleeding take some responsibility please"

"you opened the curtains this morning i almost DIED, what responsibility"

[sophsicle]

not to be obnoxious. but i really like the jily in choices. and now you're thinking, bitch i should hope so, you wrote it. WHICH, yeah, fair point. but, it's super overwhelming to receive a lot of negative feedback on something, especially when that negative feedback is like "you're a morally corrupt person writing horribly morally corrupt characters blah blah blah die" y'know? so like, there are a lot of parts of that story that, in my head, have been a bit warped, by having people repeatedly tell me how awful they are. but sometimes i'll read bits of it and im like "wait. no. this is actually good (grammar mistakes aside - im sorry, i know it's bad, i had school and work and my brain was clearly mush or something idk)." like. chapter 55 jily. i just love it. i love when lily tells james he's putting on an act in therapy. i love when she tells him that now, when she looks back, all these memories she thought were about them, have regulus's fingerprints all over them. and he tells her he thinks regulus felt the same way and that he's sorry. because he never wanted either of them to feel like they meant less than everything to him. because they never meant less than everything. i like when she tells james that regulus wasn't a good person. and when james says "i know. but he wanted to be, and doesn't that matter?" and lily thinks it probably doesn't but regulus is dead and so she lets him have that. LIKE i just. yeah it's fucking messy. and it will never not be messy. nothing about their relationship will ever be simple. but i love that. like i love that so much. and i've had people tell me they think it was a copout, having james love them both. but i just, i disagree. james being torn apart by how much he loves people. like that's it. that's the story i want to tell. that's the character i want to write. ANYWAY. there's not really a point to this other than like, sometimes i forget that i really like choices a lot. that i wrote it for myself and i wrote the characters and the relationships that i wanted. and that it isn't some horrible ugly terrible thing that should be hidden from innocent eyes and like, stuffed in a cannon and fired into the sun, y'knowwwww?????

[j0kers-light]

Hey light! I've had this scenario floating around my brain I thought I'd share. So Joker was having a really rough week and his mood swings were horrendous. Plans he'd spent weeks on were ruined and didn't go well at all. His henchmen were more annoying and tiresome than usual. One day he breaks down, curls up in bed, and has a good cry, thinking he was home alone. Y/n comes home and catches him but decides not to let him see her because it would embarrass him and make him feel way worse. She just watches in silence from afar.

This is probably wayyy out of character but I love it when J gets to show emotion poor guy 🥺

His Lighthouse: Mood Swings (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Mood Swings - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

I haven’t been called Light in a while, almost forgot that's me lol 😭😭This ask is definitely wayyyyy out of character however have no fear, Chaos is here! I can always make something work. Here's something short and sweet treat to munch on while I work on the chapter updates! I hope you enjoy anon!

If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, (or His Angel) do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Nothing was going as he planned. It was one thing after another.

The plans he spent ages on perfecting were ruined, tensions were at an all time high, and to make matters worse, his goons were screwing up left and right.  

Normally Joker would have killed any signs of weakness, but he couldn’t get rid of his entire payroll. How was it possible that everyone was annoying? Even Frost wasn’t off the hook. At least he had the decency to acknowledge his mistakes and apologize.

No one else did and that irked J even more. Either everyone was an idiot, or the universe had it out for him.  

Honestly, it could be both. It was turning out to be a really rough week with no end in sight.

There was some hope when a revised plan was going well; however, it was quickly ruined by none other than Batman. Joker could not get ahead. He was this close to pulling his hair out. 

He had to get away before his demons started airing the place out.

The whispers were getting louder and louder. ‘Stab him, strangle them...’ and his fingers itched to obey until he saw your disapproving face appear in his mind.

His Light would be devastated to find out that his no killing streak reverted back to zero. He was doing so well too!  

For your sake, Joker managed to curb his urges, but after one of his goons screwed up and almost leaked the main hideout’s location online, enough was enough.  

Joker could not handle anymore. He forcibly removed himself from the situation with a clear destination in mind: your penthouse. He sought out your peaceful bubble, perhaps you could turn his bad mood back around. Joker had to get away before he did who knows what. 

And just Joker’s luck, his misfortunes followed him home. He was convinced he was cursed because this week was officially the worst.  

He struggled to open your front door (of all days the key would get stuck and that was after dropping them) he felt like a raging bull in a china store. Joker saw red and he needed an outlet to purge this negative energy into. He wouldn’t dare place it on you.  

No, he needed to be alone to sort this out. He felt a headache building and strangely enough, his eyes were tingling. Joker refused to believe he was going to cry.

No matter how horrendous his week was, Joker was not a crier. He refused to be weak in front of anyone and that included you.  

That thought made him pause in the foyer. Where were you anyways?  

He called out your name—only for silence to echo back. Of all the days you weren’t home.

J didn’t know if this were a good or a bad thing. He was glad you didn’t see him like this and yet, he kinda wished you were here to educate him on what to do.  

You were aptly named his Lighthouse for your skills in leading him out of the darkness. And right now, it was so dark, Joker couldn’t see the end of the tunnel. His mind was fighting against him and his emotions were getting the better of him. He didn’t feel like himself.   

He kicked his shoes off and ran a hand through his green tresses.

Your penthouse was pristine, a big burst of color and steeped with a whimsical flare.  

A candle burned safely in a votive nearby and its soothing scent went completely over Joker’s head. He was just too far gone for the little things to calm him down. It would take a herculean effort to get him back sane.. at least back to his normal sane self.  

You always demanded cleanliness and order. Everything had a place and right now, Joker felt like he didn’t belong. He considered trashing the place. The thought was too tempting to pass up. 

As much as Joker told himself to behave, he stomped his way down the hall, breaking anything his hands could get a hold of.

Once he entered the bedroom, he snatched a pillow off the bed and screamed into it. He remembered you saying once that it was a great way to relieve stress, but he still felt the same afterwards. Did he somehow do it wrong?  

His clown makeup was smudged all over the case, and it got his mind thinking. Yelling into a pillow was stupid. He quickly tore it into shreds.  

The imported feathers floated in the air, and they provoked his inner desire to destroy more. He knew you would be angry.  

Well touch luck, Joker was angry too.  

The other pillows suffered the same fate as Joker tore through the room like a tornado.

He would suffer the consequences of his actions later. Each tear, every crack, satisfied the demons screaming in his head. A little broken furniture was better than a pile of dead bodies. He hoped you would understand.  

His rampage went on until he was out of breath and slowly coming back to his senses.

Sadly, Joker was still as angry as before. Nothing was working! Joker kicked over the decorative ottoman before belly flopping onto the bed.

Surprisingly, it survived his initial rage and despite his better judgement, Joker let out a gut wrenching yell that ended in a rare sob.  

Joker thought he was stronger than this. He royally failed for letting his emotions get the better of him. This week really took a toll on him, and he had exhausted every method to calm down. All except one.

Joker was powerless against the sudden wave of sleepiness taking him under after his rare show of emotions.  

He clung to the last pillow that smelled of you as you watched on from the doorway. 

Your poor clown was hurting.  

You weren’t ignorant to the levels of stress Joker was going through this week. His nights were longer, his tolerance weakened to the point he almost snapped at you a few times. 

Nothing ever went Joker’s way with the constant perfection he demanded for his criminal heists. He put too many expectations on himself and his goons. 

No one was perfect, case in point, you watched helplessly as Joker broke down. You would worry about cleaning up later. Your heart went out to Joker, who was so far removed from human emotions that he didn’t know he was having a meltdown.  

He didn’t even notice you coming home, he was so overwhelmed.  

He acted like a wounded animal, lashing out while on the verge of tears. Have you ever seen Joker cry before? The details didn’t matter.

You didn't dare to confront him during this rare lapse of character. He would be embarrassed and lash out, thus making things worse.  

You wisely waited in the shadows. When Joker was down for the count, you stepped into the bedroom to offer your silent support.  

You set your purse down and sighed at the mess Joker left behind before climbing into bed. J flinched in his sleep when you reached out for him but he slowly relaxed when his subconscious realized it was you.  

His Light was finally here to help whatever was ailing him.

You cooed softly when Joker tightened his grip on you as his breathing picked up. You didn’t want him waking up.  

Right now, he needed all the rest he could get. He was like a toddler all tuckered out after a tantrum. You let him sleep on your chest as you raked your hands through his green tresses.  

And when Joker woke up hours later in your arms, you simply smiled at him and wiped the dried tears from his cheeks. “You feeling better, J?” 

[clowningcrows]

ngl yall im writing the most insane, filfthy agathario smut with needy but bratty bottom!agatha and gentle but dominating top!rio

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Order up! 🩷 🍓 🧁 🎀

Cute maid Caleb at your service! 🍬 🍭 🍩 💟

Thank you, @bilumi / @bilumiart, for the super cute commission art! ⭐️ 🤍 ✨️ 🫶

The chibi witch in the artwork is named Clara (she's my wittewife oc :3).

I commissioned this piece as a way to celebrate finishing chapter 5 of my fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". ✍️

Expect to see more of the story in 2025 ! 📃

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 8.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 8th snippet, part 1. Adar shows Morgoth’s crown to Celebrimbor. The smith has an idea. Adar lets him run with it.

Celebrimbor might not be a natural fighter, but he’ll still find ways to support his allies (especially his husband). It’s so very hard to write anything about this chapter without giving too much away, so I’ll just say – I tried to come up with a plot for this story, got hit with inspiration, and now here we are. I am so curious to see people’s reaction to this one! (And yes, Celebrimbor playing dice is indeed inspired by @plotdesigner’s fic ‚In My Scar Covered Heart‘. :P)

Celebrimbor hadn’t exactly been eager to catch a glimpse of Morgoth’s crown, to be quite honest. Knowing that it somehow still existed in middle earth and was in such close proximity to him was bad enough. If seeing it wouldn’t remind him of the silmaril or his family’s bloody history fighing the original owner of the crown, it surely would remind him of the maiar who had reforged it.

He didn’t have much of a choice however when, during another round of talks, Galadriel had asked – well, goaded – Adar into showing the crown to Elrond. Who, to her credit, had been rather disbelieving of the crown’s continued existence until then.

All three elves had immediately fallen silent and leant away when Adar had walked over to a wooden chest in the corner of the tent, opened it, and used his gauntleted hand to pull out a menacing-looking shape of darkened metal.

He carried the crown as if intending to place it on someone’s head, holding it with both hands and his arms stretched in front of his body as he came back towards them. Only his tight expression revealed that this was not due to reverence. 

It made sense, Celebrimbor thought – especially when Adar told the tale of how he’d been meant to place the crown upon Sauron’s red hair...and had driven it's spikes through the Deceiver’s shoulder and neck instead.

The coronation had been Sauron’s attempt to declare himself Morgoth’s successor; a position that would have placed all the uruk under his yoke. Celebrimbor couldn’t imagine he’d treated the uruk any more kindly than his enemies, so Adar taking the crown to him and ‘killing’ the maiar had likely been an act of desperation. And love.

No wonder Adar regarded the crown with such a complicated mix of emotions.

Adar placed the crown in the middle of the table, then sat back down to continue the conversation. Glancing at his fellow elves, Celebrimbor could tell that it was difficult for them to keep their attention focused on each other’s words instead of the object at first, but after a while, they managed.

The smith, however, found himself staring at it for the rest of the conversation. He registered some of the words – their talk revolved around Gil-Galad and his intention to visit the uruk camp to speak with Adar directly –, but for the most part, Celebrimbor focused on the crown and its design.

It did indeed look pointy enough to puncture flesh with, if handled with that intention. He could almost imagine how it must have gone – Adar holding up the crown, turning it around to thrust it into Sauron’s shoulder.

A dangerous position to strike from, though, as Adar would have had to leave his middle completely unprotected. But then again, Sauron had left himself open to injury as well. It made Celebrimbor question what their prior relationship might have been like, as both of them had served Morgoth...willingly or unwillingly. And Adar made it sound as if he knew Sauron quite well, to the point that he understood how his mind worked. 

Though it had not made him any less prone to the maiar’s scheming than Galadriel and Celebrimbor had been, the latter silently thought to himself.

He felt an urge to ask the uruk about these things; Adar’s past was still largely shrouded in mystery. But the uruk had avoided any clever attempts of Elrond and more direct goading from Galadriel to reveal more of himself so far, and only offered whatever information he deemed neccessary to defeat their common enemy. Nothing more.

And so Celebrimbor bit his tongue, and settled on waiting (hoping) for a time when Adar might be inclined to share more about this part of himself of his own volition.

The smith’s mind was drawn back to the crown then. It looked to be made of iron, though unusually dark. He tried to parse how it had been made, with what tools and in what conditions, whether any traces of the silmaril or Morgoth had seeped into the metal and still remained there.

He was so consumed with his musings that he startled slightly when Galadriel, Elrond and Adar stood up from the table - their current round of talks had come to an end. Or, at least a pause, it seemed. As Celebrimbor slowly got up, Elrond spoke. "We will bring this proposal to High King Gil-Galad," he looked at Galadriel to indicate he meant the both of them. "If he agrees, he will accompany us into your camp when we return."

"Though, be aware that the king will not come here unarmed, or unguarded," the peredhel added. But it wasn’t said as a threat. It actually rather sounded as if Elrond was just relaying a fact that Adar should just take into consideration.

This, too, was a recent change. It seemed that Elrond was slowly opening himself up to the idea that the elves would indeed join forces with Adar’s army and march on Eregion together.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that, for a few days now, Adar had permitted Galadriel to leave the uruk camp and accompany the herald back on his way to the high king. Which she had initially taken as a way for Adar to test whether or not she would leave Celebrimbor unprotected amidst an army of enemies. But it turned out to be a show of trust instead - that she would help Elrond argue his case, and then come back to spend time with her friend again.

An arrangement that had worked out quite well, in fact; Galadriel had been reluctant to leave at first, but after some reassurance from Celebrimbor, she had. Only for a short while at first, and she had barely gone far enough to disappear from the sight of the guards around the camp, after which she had returned in a hurry.

It had taken a second and a third attempt until she left for multiple hours and came back at a leisurely pace, skeptical but ultimately pleased when she found that Celebrimbor where she’d left him, playing a simple game of dice with Glûg and another uruk guard.

After that, she'd been fine with leaving Celebrimbor and Adar for even longer periods of time, and whenever she returned and found them sharing a meal or conversing, a small smirk stole itself onto her face for reasons Celebrimbor could not quite parse yet.

Adar acknowledged the herald’s words with a humm. "Not unreasonable. Be aware, then, that I will not be unarmed or unguarded, either." This, too, was just presented as a simple fact. Celebrimbor couldn’t help but feel proud of how far they all had already come since the negotiations started.

"Not unreasonable, either," Elrond replied and actually quirked up his lips for a moment. While Adar didn’t return the gesture with a smile of his own, he tilted his head at the herald in a show of acknowledgement.

Elrond and Galadriel were quick to depart afterwards; they wanted to talk to their king, and if Ereinion indeed intended to come to Adar’s camp, preparations would have to be made. The two elves made sure to thank Adar for the food and drink they had received, and spent a moment to say their – temporary – goodbyes to Celebrimbor.

Once they had left, the smith sat back in his chair. "That went quite well," he judged as he gave Adar a smile of elation. "I think we might indeed be close to a treaty now, with the high king willing to walk into the camp to negotiate with you directly."

Of course, talks with Gil-Galad would surely pose their own difficulties. He had neither the fiery temper of Galadriel nor the biting sarcasm Elrond employed at times, but he was certainly not shy to state his own objections, would not back down in the face of adversity, and held himself with the grace and self-assured air – well, pride – befitting a king. Qualities that were beneficial for rulership, but which might clash with Adar’s own stubbornness and sense of authority during the coming talks.

Celebrimbor decided he would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"It did," Adar agreed, picked up his goblet and took a sip from it. He notably hadn’t sat down at the table again, despite the fact that there was still a half-unfinished meal on his plate. Perhaps he needed to walk off the tension. Celebrimbor had certainly seen him pace their tent like a wolf after the first few negotiations, agitated even as he refused to elaborate on the reasons why, before he stormed off to meet with his lieutenants.

The smith could usually guess the reasons nonetheless, anyways.

"You have been quite focused on that thing," the uruk stated, apropos of nothing. When Celebrimbor raised his eyebrows in question, Adar’s eyes briefly settled on the crown before the turned back to the smith. "Is it because of the gemstones it once held?"

Celebrimbor quickly shook his head, "No, I- it’s not that," his gaze wandered back to the object in question, as if drawn there by something not of his own will. "I was actually considering what it might be made of. Or how it was made."

A light snort, and Adar emptied his goblet before he went to pour himself another drink. Water, this time, instead of wine. Ever since the negotations had started to go more smoothly, wine had mysteriously disappeared from the table during talks. Now, the uruk only offered it when he and Celebrimbor were eating on their own.

A fact that Celebrimbor had noted with a wry sense of humor – he didn’t believe Adar needed the wine to endure those conversations. It seemed more likely he wanted to savor it now instead of using it to calm his temper. Which was, in fact, a thought that softened something in Celebrimbor’s chest.

"Iron, from what little I know. It was Mairon who was gifted in the craft of smithing, not I," the uruk shrugged.

Celebrimbor acknowledged Adar’s words with a nod and humm, before he turned back to the intimdating shape in the middle of the table. "May I?" he asked as he pointed at it. At Adar’s slow nod, he extended careful fingers and gingerly dragged the object towards himself.

It felt frighteningly similar to any ordinary iron crown as he held it in his hands. Cold to the touch, and heavy – it would have likely been uncomfortable to wear for long on the head of any mortal being. It also seemed unwieldy, as the smith lifted it and turned it about in his hands.

Even if he didn’t have the strength of a warrior, Celebrimbor could tell this would be difficult to handle during combat. Which, come to think of it, could prove to be a disadvantage when facing Sauron, who was quick on his feet and – judging by Galadriel's and Adar's accounts – quite skilled in battle. If only it was a bit lighter, and perhaps, had longer spikes-

He stopped. Frowned. Then lifted his eyebrows as he stared at the opposite side of the tent, then back at the crown, and finally at Adar.

The uruk, who had let Celebrimbor silently consider the iron adornment without comment, wore an expression of intrigue that quickly changed to one of caution.

The smith sprung up from his chair, and held up the crown. "Would you...if it could be done, would you want me to...try and improve this? For the oncoming battle?"

There was a very long moment of silence. The uruk’s face held some surprise, but for the most part, it had turned to stone. The smith cringed at himself – in his enthusiasm, taken with his own rapidly forming idea, he had forgotten that this was Adar’s best chance at killing Sauron.

Of course, he wouldn’t want Celebrimbor to tinker with it, so close to finalizing the alliance with the elves and fighting their shared enemy. The smith didn’t even know if he could. And yet-

"I am not sure even one such as you might be able to do that," Adar said, slowly. His gaze slipped off to the side as he pursed his lips and drew his brows. His gauntleted hand flexed where he’d propped his arm onto the table.

And then, as he turned his eyes back to Celebrimbor, "But, if that is your wish...you may try."

Celebrimbor must have looked as astonished as he felt, he was sure of it. Especially so when, after a while, he could see a very small grin grow on Adar's face. It was just as unexpected as his permission, and caused Celebrimbor to fluster a little.

The uruk's next words were quiet. "Though, be careful as you do. After Morgoth, none other than Mairon has been able to even put a dent in this thing. Believe me, myself and countless of my children have tried."

Celebrimbor nodded, and pressed the crown to his chest. He noted with unease the the metal was not warming to his touch, but ignored that for the moment. "I am not certain I will be able to accomplish anything with it, either, but- I would like to try, at least. Since so much depends on it."

He didn't say it out loud, but he meant the fate of Eregion and Mordor just as much as that the two armies, and the lives of his friends, his own - and that of his husband. Which would be in such a vulnerable, fragile state if he were the one to brandish the crown against Sauron. The thought unsettled the elf, had in fact begun to disturb him the more he talked to Adar, learnt of him, stayed with him.

'I do not wish to lose him in this battle,' the smith thought. Not just because of the alliance, or what would become of Adar's children. No, this was - affection, as strange as it still was to admit to himself. He wasn't sure if the uruk thought of them as friends yet, but Celebrimbor certainly thought of them as more than allies by now.

With a resolute, determined expression, the smith straightened, and then went to wrap the crown in some rough fabric. He had a hunch Adar's children might not appreciate it if he walked through their midst with that thing on display.

"I'll ask Glûg to accompany me to Gurlak's forge. Would you send for me, if you receive any word from my friends?"

The Lord Father of the uruk made a shooing motion, and finally sat back at the table, ready to finish his meal. "I will. Go- I have a feeling this will take some time," he motioned at the bundle in Celebrimbor's arms, "And I need to prepare myself for what is to come."

Celebrimbor threw the uruk a sympathetic glance. "If you want my advice, it might be a good call to serve wine once the high king arrives. He is rather fond of the drink, and yours should be of a taste he enjoys," he further thought on it, briefly. "Also, green foods - vegetables, leafy greens. Pickles might do, but do not serve only those." He drew a face.

Adar pinched his lips lest they quirk into another grin, but then showed his assent - and his thanks - with a tilt of his head.

Celebrimbor was struck with how little Adar used his hands in conversations; he and his fellow elves were quite prone to gesturing, whereas the uruk was still as a stone for much of the time and usually moved at a slow, almost leisurely pace. The elf pondered if this was due to the fact that he was so long-lived, or if it had other reasons.

"I will take that into consideration. Now, go. I am sure Galadriel and Elrond will be back much quicker than we might expect."

With a smile and another fond look in Adar's direction, Celebrimbor did as he was bid, and exited the tent. Luckily, Glûg was right outside - and judging by his very innocent, decidedly desinterested look, had been trying to eavesdrop. Again. Celebrimbor ignored it and said, "Glûg, please, take me to Gurlak at once."