#I’ve been stealing necessities. there. I said it.

[galaxywarp]

$10 for two loads of laundry is unbelievably abysmal, not even considering how fucked $500 extra a year is. I’d look up laws about increasing rent in ohio to double check if thats even legal and then negotiate with her regardless. im so fucking sorry you have to deal with this leech on top of everything else. you don’t deserve it.

I started spinning out BAD the other day when I found out that social security disability hasn’t made any progress on my case in nearly 2 months because one of my clinics (that I called 3-4 times about this !) where I’ve done most of my recent treatment has just been sitting on a request for documentation since December 7th.

Two months of nothing while I have to track down $10 just to have clean clothes. Because they wouldn’t send in my medical history. Two months.

I try to take being broke in stride. I really do. I’ve lived like this before. I know how to survive on bare minimum. I’m trained for this since I was a kid.

But I think im starting to lose strength here. Especially because I know it doesn’t have to be this way. I know what it’s like now to live not feeling guilty for having to spend $5 on some paper plates to feed my cats.

But I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be in survival mode like this. I really don’t.

I’m tired.

[cherrybomb107]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: forgiveness, or the way it’s often presented, is harmful. That’s one more gripe I have with season two. The way it frames “forgiveness”(the idea that you are obligated to forgive someone lest you be “just as bad as they are” is problematic.)

Because for one, having Jinx apologize for killing Caitlyn’s mom and vow to stop the “cycle of violence” doesn’t make any sense. One, that’s just not something Jinx would ever say. Two, the idea that Jinx killing some Councilors is anywhere near the same thing as Caitlyn becoming a dictator is laughable at best, and insulting to my intelligence at worst. Three, Caitlyn never apologizes or faces any meaningful consequences for her actions! Losing an eye was nothing! She should’ve lost a hand at least and we should’ve seen her reflect on her actions and pledge to do better for Zaun!!! Not just fuck off and ride off into the sunset after everything she did! And lastly, the “cycle of violence” literally isn’t a cycle, it’s just one city oppressing the other for centuries and the other city deciding to fight back! This “cycle” doesn’t begin and end with Jinx and her attack on the Council, so framing it like Jinx is the one who has to take sole responsibility for fixing everything is nonsense.

“But Arcane was never about heroes and villains, everything is morally gray!” You sound dumb. This is obviously a story with overt themes of oppression and revolution. I’m not here to critique morality, I’m here to critique its framing. Why are certain characters “justified” in their heinous actions but others don’t get that luxury? That’s what I’m talking about. Moving on, the problem with “forgiveness” implies that it’s necessary, and the way people conflate forgiveness with letting someone have access to you after everything they did is the problem. You don’t have to forgive someone if you don’t want to. That doesn’t make you “bitter” nor does it mean you’re “holding a grudge”. There is a difference between forgiving someone and just removing yourself from the situation and becoming detached, imo. That’s what should’ve been done with Caitlyn and Jinx. No one in Zaun should’ve been shown dying for their oppressors because “teamwork” nor should Sevika have been shoved on the Council to push this idea of “unity”. Why would Sevika, a Zaunite who has never had and never will have any love for Piltover, be forced to cozy up with the Council? Why is the onus on her, as an oppressed person, to make nice with her oppressors? Why does the institution of Piltover, and people like Caitlyn who uphold that institution and wreak havoc on the underclass of Zaun, never have to answer for their crimes?

Answer: Because they(the writers) want to convince us that Jinx and Caitlyn, and by extension, Piltover and Zaun are “just as bad” as each other, and that both sides need to work together to heal. Only problem with that is, the Piltover/Zaun conflict was not presented that way in season one. I’m sure the writers want us to think it’s one city vs another, when that’s not the case at all. In reality, it’s one city OVER the other, and now they’re trying to convince us “both sides are bad”. While it’s true that there ARE problems on both sides, the problems in Zaun literally wouldn’t be problems if Piltover wasn’t an oppressive institution. Why were the chem barons able to amass power? Because the systems Piltover set up left Zaun behind and allowed pier hungry people like Finn, Margo, Chross, and Smeech seize their opportunities for control. Why is there so much crime in Zaun? Again, because of Piltover. The class disparity that Piltover set up means the economic divide between the two cities is a chasm that grows wider and wider every day. People are forced to steal to eat. They join gangs out of necessity, not because they have to. Why did Jinx kill all those enforcers?

That shouldn’t be the question. The real question is: Why does “Jinx”(as in, the persona Powder adopted to feel strong) even exist? Answer, once again, because of Piltover! Jinx is an oppressed person with severe mental health and self esteem issues that have been exacerbated as a result of the crooked system of Piltover. She saw her parents get killed by enforcers(militarized police force that carries out the will of the powers that be and is responsible for harassing, brutalizing, and over policing Zaun) right in front of her before she was even in the double digits. She was then adopted by Vander, but she had to struggle her whole life. Zaun doesn’t even have air to BREATHE unless Piltover decides they deserve it. And thanks to Caitlyn, we get to see how even THAT gets weaponized when Zaun steps out of line. So if they don’t have access to clean air, it’s safe to say that they also don’t have access to the same quality food, water, shelter, clothing, economic, educational, or medical services that Piltovans do, just by virtue of living in Zaun. So you take a severely mentally ill little girl, systematically oppress her, and then clutch your pearls when she becomes violent and lashes out? Label her a “psycho” and a “monster” for killing cops, gang members, and politicians while Caitlyn gets a happily ever after after everything she did? I thought “both sides” were “just as bad”. So why is Jinx the only one who meaningfully suffers? Why does Zaun as a whole always have to pay the price?

Lack of commitment. “Terrorist” is a loaded word that’s been weaponized against marginalized people for ages now. It’s another one to add to the list: angry, crazy, mad, belligerent, monster, savage, animal, etc. All these dehumanizing words are leveled at folks who get tired of taking shit lying down. I’ve never thought that Jinx was a “monster” for killing cops, Councilors, or politicians. Never will. But the show clearly WANTS me to, as well as simultaneously wanting to see Caitlyn’s actions a certain way. I’ve already made a post about why comparing or trying to equalize Caitlyn’s actions and Jinx’s actions is disingenuous and intellectually dishonest imo. Think of it like a bully vs bullied type of thing. There’s this kid and his asshole friends who gets to bully you for weeks, months, or even years and face no repercussions. Then, one day you get fed up, and start fighting back. Whether that be with words, feet, fists, or what have you. If you go down, you go down swinging. When the dust settles, BOTH of y’all are getting disciplined(detention, suspended, expelled, not allowed to go on trips, etc) for “fighting”. And there’s a very good chance one of you will be punished much more harshly than the other. Even though you started fighting back. BACK being the operative word. Every single time this kid pushed, hit, kicked, punched, started rumors about, and isolated you, nothing was done. The one time you start fighting BACK, both of y’all get in trouble because the school has a “zero tolerance policy”.

But you know that’s not true. It can’t be. You’ve been telling the teachers, guidance counselors, and vice principal about what’s been going on. But nothing was done about it. Or if it was, you were the one who was told to move seats. Or switch to a different classroom. Or just ignore them. Or “maybe they’re lashing out cause they have problems going on at home.” It was nothing but excuses when you were getting pushed around. Now when you fight back it’s a problem. Now take that metaphor and apply it to Caitlyn and Jinx. Caitlyn is like that fat rich asshole with parents on the PTA who make hefty donations to the school. Jinx is like the scrawny little nobody who has no one to stick up for them. Piltover is the school system. Caitlyn’s privilege isolated her from any meaningful consequences, while Jinx’s lack of privilege guaranteed she’d face hefty consequences, much more than Caitlyn ever would.

Jinx has lost: her birth parents as a result of state sanctioned violence, her adoptive brothers, her sister, her best friend, her adoptive father, Silco, her sister again, her adoptive brother again, her new friend, her sense of self, her life(possibly) and she has to deal with being an oppressed person who struggles with mental health issues on top of all that. Caitlyn has lost: her mother, and her eye. That’s it. She’s never forced to give anything up. She never had to reckon with the reality of what it means to be not just a Piltie, but a Kiramman, and a dictator on top of that. We never see her be genuinely remorseful about her horrible actions in Zaun. Nor does she try to apologize to the people in Zaun or meaningfully make amends. No, Caitlyn gets to live in that big shiny house of hers with her father and girlfriend and the months she spent co-signing martial law will never be addressed. To bring it back to the bully vs bullied comparison, this means that Jinx would have been expelled for fighting back, while Caitlyn gets ISS(in school suspension). “Both sides are bad” yeah well you clearly believe one side is worse! And it’s not the correct one!

Piltover is an oppressive, classist, ableist, and brutal institution. Caitlyn was the head of this institution for months after she experienced a fraction of what Zaunites have experienced for centuries. At the end of the day, Caitlyn’s actions were brushed aside and she got her happy ending, though it wasn’t deserved whatsoever. Meanwhile Jinx, Sevika, Ekko, Isha, countless other Zaunites, and Zaun as a whole did nothing but suffer their whole lives and now they have nothing to show for it. “Both sides are bad” but the bad that the institution is responsible for is never called out, while the bad that the oppressed people did is blown out of proportion and they are severely punished for it.

And yes, I know I’m talking about a mainstream television show with white/non black people in the writers room. I knew I was never gonna get the pro revolution story I wanted to see, and I’ve made peace with that. But, if they wanted to have a “both sides” narrative so bad, then they should’ve stuck with it. BOTH SIDES should have equally suffered and had to reckon with their wrongdoings. The responsibility for doing so shouldn’t have solely been on the shoulders of the minority group. THAT’S the crux of the issue. I was always gonna think “forgiveness” was the coward’s way out. But they never show Piltover apologizing. Only Zaun does, and that’s not right.

[toodelusionalforreality]

Absolution

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: ~4.5k

Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]

Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.

His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.

The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight. 

Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.

After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.

Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.

N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.

‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’

N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’

Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’

Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’

‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’

‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’

'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders. 

‘Well, technically, we’re married.’

Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.

‘What?’

N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’

Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.

N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her. 

Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’

Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’

‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’

N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.

Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . . 

He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’ 

N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.

Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’

N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’

‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’

Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.

His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.

‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’

N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.

Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’

N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ‘I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’

Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.

Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in. 

His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.

In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.

N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.

Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.

His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers. 

Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands. 

N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.

A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare. 

‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.

Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.

His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her. 

He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs. 

‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’

N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.

Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.

They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.

Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.

He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.

N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.

Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.

Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.

Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers. 

‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.

He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true. 

The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.

‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her. 

‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words. 

He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.

'Azriel, please. I want more.'

‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.

‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.

‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’

Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan. 

Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.

Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.

He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.

His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.

Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.

With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.

Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.

N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’ 

His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’

The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?

His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.

A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.

As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.

Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’

Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.

He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.

‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’

‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.

Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.

N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.

Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.

‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired. 

He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.

N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’ 

‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’

She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’

Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’

N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’

Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 27

Part 26

For as long as King Edward had reigned over this land, no one had known him to take a lover, or even show any interest in anyone. Some time ago, a council had been adamant about him officially choosing someone to rule by his side and procuring an heir. They had been shut down and in time, their posts had been given to newer members, and that old watch had died out. King Edward had seen no need for such things. His life was long lived and he still had many years yet.

There had been no need to pick someone simply for the purpose of securing a royal line. It was him and only him.

And then some prince came along and changed everything. 

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

Robin’s leg swung off the bed while waiting for Steve. With a huff, he finally walked out of the bathroom. With a groan, she stood up. 

“Finally. Let’s go.”

“Hey, perfection takes time”, Steve said as they left his room.

Robin gestured at his entire body. “And you call this perfection?”

“Rude”, Steve said, starting to mess with his hair again. “It’s not like I have much to work with in there.”

“What are you talking about? Eddie gave you a whole hair dresser’s kit and yet you’re still not satisfied? Spoiled prince indeed”, Robin teased, no heed given to whom might overhear.

“Yes, well, brushes and oils can only do so much when I can’t even set them up properly”, Steve said, giving up on getting his hair just right. “What I truly require is a vanity.”

“Oh, but of course”, Robin rolled her eyes. It was so laughable to her that he could lament over such a thing when it was obvious how smitten Eddie was with him already. It was such a laugh that she shared it with Eddie one evening after going over resource allocations for the arts.

“A vanity. You’d think it was life’s greatest treasure the way he talked about it”, she snorted over a glass of chilled wine. 

“A vanity…”, Eddie trailed off, easily falling into a vision of Steve sitting before one, his beauty aids all arranged just so, taking his time to make himself even more radiant than he already was. He thought about the room Steve was in right now, stuck on one end of the castle, far from the other rooms and barren except for the necessities. 

It certainly wasn’t a place for someone being pursued by the king.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”, Robin said.

“You should know you’ll have my full attention whenever the little prince is concerned. Now tell me more about his vanity-less woes.”

Courtships could go any sort of way. It all depended on the pursuant and their target. But anyone who meant to truly woo their intended listened to both them and those around them to figure out what the most impactful gifts would be. Steve knew that Eddie was this sort after the last gift. He had never said directly what he wanted and yet it appeared.

So he had a feeling a vanity was in his near future. Or at the very least a very good mirror. Something akin to that.

When Eddie approached during one of Lucas’ lesson, Steve didn’t care how spoiled he might appear, stopping in the middle and running right over to him.

“Am I right to assume you have something for me?”, he asked twirling his sword before sheathing it.

“Perhaps, sweetling. But it is one I have to show before I give it to you”, Eddie said.

And didn’t that intrigue Steve. “You have to show it first?”

Eddie nodded, then looked to Lucas. “Do you mind if I steal your instructor away?”

“Go for it”, Lucas permitted.

“You still have ten minutes left”, Steve said. “That’s just enough time for three laps around the training ring and some squats.”

With that, he left his sword belt on a table and walked arm in arm with Eddie. Steve didn’t know why this alone felt so intimate. Eddie had literally caught him in more revealing states. And yet this was different, this touch was different. He wanted to put his head against Eddie’s shoulder and let him lead wherever he wanted.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me somewhere without a chaperone.”

“Now what sort of trouble could we get into in a hallway?”, Eddie asked.

“In my experience, plenty”, Steve lowered his voice to tease and was both surprised and delighted at the redness that bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Wait, have you never-”

“And here we are!”, Eddie shouted when they reached a door. 

A nice door, but a door all the same. Steve wondered what could be behind it and how it related to whatever Eddie was giving him. But then Eddie opened the door and it was a bedroom. A guest room that looked unused with how everything was perfectly in place. As if it had all been arranged in preparation for a new resident. It was a stark cry from the room he was in right now. 

That room was livable, but small. This room had enough space for a lavish bed, a writing desk, a floor to ceiling window that opened up to a small balcony. Across the bed was a door that led to a bathroom, surely nicer than the one he currently had, but that was when Steve saw it. He walked in to get a closer look.

A vanity, clear, ready to be covered in all he might need. He sat down in the chair before it, taking in his reflection in the smooth glass. Not a mirror covered in hard streaks and old dust that made it nearly impossible to make out much of anything. It reminded him of the one he had back home. How he’d sit in front of one, anticipating a night of dancing in the ballroom or a secret tryst with whatever lover he had at the time.

Eddie came up from behind and smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Is it really mine?”, Steve asked, looking up at him.

“All yours. And that is not the only perk it comes with.”

“Oh?”

Eddie cleared his throat and took a step back. “It just so happens that this prime real estate is just down the hall from my own rooms.”

“How generous of you”, Steve said, coming to stand up and move closer to Eddie. They were truly alone now, not in the hallway anymore. And he couldn’t miss the insinuation that came from knowing the king would be sleeping just a few doors down. “It has occurred to me that I have yet to give you a gift of my own.”

His eyes flicked to Eddie’s lips as he moved impossibly closer, their bodies chest to chest. His lips were just an inch away-

“Ew! Gross!”, Mike screeched when he came into the room.

Eddie jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet but managing to catch himself. “Blazes Wheeler! Did no one ever teach you to knock!?”

“The door was open!”, Mike shot back. “I just came to tell you guys lunch was ready. Goddamn!” Mike left before his eyes could be defiled any more than they already were.

Eddie called out before he got too far. “Tell the kitchens to prepare a picnic for me!” Then he turned back to Steve. “If you would be so kind to accompany me.” He offered his arm, feeling warm when Steve linked up with him.

“I would love to.”

Part 28

a bit more sweetness before the bitter returns

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[ven0moir]

Byler Analysis: Mike’s phone calls.

This analysis is going over why Mike’s phone calls were, without a doubt, for Will. Bylers have been talking about this for months now, but I’ve compiled all the evidence I could find. 

So, to start us off... 

Hawkin’s Lab is owned by the ‘Department of Energy’, which according to Mike, Ted has said is Government/The Military. 

In S1, the main antagonists in regard to Hawkins Lab were Connie Frazier and Dr. Brenner. However, by the season finale, Connie was killed by Eleven and Dr. Brenner’s status was unknown.

With the two of them out of the way, we are introduced to Dr. Sam Owens in S2. 

Now, whether or not Owens is truly trustworthy or not is a whole other can of worms, but for the sake of this analysis, we will follow his introduction as an ally to the Byers-Hoppers. He was the primary doctor looking after Will and investigating what was going on with him when he was possessed by the Mindflayer. S2 concludes by letting us know that Owens has pulled some strings to give Eleven a new identity and thus a new life: that of JANE HOPPER. 

Owens recommends to Hopper that Eleven should lay low for about a year before living freely, as a PRECAUTION (since, like he said before, ‘those people’ aka the bad ones, are gone), but overall, things are safe enough that Owens even approves of Hopper letting Eleven go to the Snow Ball. 

S3 starts in June 1985, about six months after S2, which means Eleven’s year of laying low isn’t done yet. But since Owens is in charge of the lab, Eleven and Mike can call on the phone. We also see them using walkie-talkies, so I’m assuming that they don’t call that often as a precaution as well, but they can do it as long as it’s not too frequent. 

It is important to note that the lab was not the main antagonist in neither S2 nor S3 (It was the Mindflayer & Russians respectively). 

Eleven can even afford to go out a couple of times to the mall with Max without consequence at all. It isn’t until things get bad enough with the ‘flesh flayer’ that the military immediately steps in to cover it all up (and despite their best efforts, the town is still suspicious). 

Owens is FIRED at the end of S3 as a consequence of the mall “fire”. This is significant because it means that he no longer holds the power to protect Eleven. Still, he managed to use his contacts (which include allies like Ellen, Wallace, and Hamon) to relocate Eleven + the Byers to Lenora and look after them very discretely. 

Because of this plan, Eleven is safe in Lenora enough to go out and have a life as Jane Hopper. However, that plan does NOT include calling Hawkins as that would be FAR TOO RISKY. 

She cannot call or be called from Hawkins as it is no longer just a precaution, like when Owens recommended Eleven to lay low for a year, just in case. Now, her staying away from Hawkins (which includes calling there since the phone-lines are tapped) is a NECESSITY for her long-term survival since the cover story is that ‘Eleven is dead’.

Powell’s call about Chrissy’s murder is enough to immediately summon Sullivan to investigate and pin the murders on Eleven. He even tells Owens that there are rumors of her being alive and receiving help from the ‘inside’ aka Owens. WHICH IS TRUE. So, they’re onto Owens and ALL OF THEM require to be extra careful with calling to Hawkins. 

Mike was likely not able to talk about Eleven/Jane much during his calls with Will either.

THIS is likely why we see a walkie-talkie on Eleven’s Mike box and why Mike spoke about stealing Cerebro from Dustin at the end of S3. 

HOWEVER, because the mail system isn’t under surveillance like phone lines are, LETTERS were established as Mike and El’s primary method of communication. 

Whether or not Mike truly did steal Cerebro from Dustin to call El a few times, we see Cerebro at the top of Dustin’s house in what seems to be a very permanent set-up. I personally think this implies Cerebro hasn’t been moved, and their communication happened solely through letters. 

But even if, say, Mike went to visit Dustin to use Cerebro (which wasn’t established, but is within the realm of possibilities) it doesn’t change the fact that phone calls were off the table, and thus, those were for Will and Will alone. 

So, as Will himself explained, the letters were for Eleven, and phone calls were for HIM.

Which means ... this was all about Mike being unable to reach WILL. 

Byler is endgame

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This is a short drabble I had hidden in my drafts, I believe this is a start to my 'Volchista' series which is something that's been thought about for a couple years, but I think for now I just want a cowgirl who falls in love with another gal...or two. ;) Oh, btw, I make all of my headers by myself. Please don't steal them from me, they take a lot of work.

Pairing: Cowgirl! Reader x Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None / Reader has an aversion to alcohol

Words: 935

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

"I think it's time to retire 76, she keeps going lame, and I doubt she'll survive another calf season" I told Clint as I headed to the kitchen to wash up for dinner. 

"You know what's best for the animals, if that's what you think needs to be done, take care of it." He replied beside me, cutting up some tomatoes for the burgers.

"How come you let her make all the decisions?" Tony asked him, leaning back in his chair, sipping on a glass of what I could only assume was either whiskey or bourbon. 

"She lived in Montana, and has spent, what..three decades ranching?" A slightly confused look on his face as Clint faced me, leaning back against the counter. 

"Four, but yeah, I have experience and background" 

"So what's going to happen to 76 then? You'll kill her?" Spoke the dark redhead, judging by the length of her hair, that would be Wanda Maximoff.

"I have a friend who will euthanize her out in the field, but until then I will make sure she is as comfortable as possible. I believe that an animal should live its best life, and be as healthy as can be, but if repeating issues occur or the way of life for the animal is made to where it would be unethical to keep alive, then in that case there is necessity for euthanization.” 

“So just because she’s old and can’t have a baby, you’re going to kill her?” 

“The average lifespan of a cow is twenty years. 76 is twenty-two years old, the last calf she had nearly killed her, and the last three calves haven’t survived birth or gestation.” 

“So she’s old, so she’s going to die?”

“No, it would be mean to keep her alive because she would keep getting sick and when she doesn’t feel good it’s not good for her, (Y/N) just wants the animals to be happy.” a small voice piped up, coming from Clint’s oldest, Abigail. 

I nodded at her as she glared, or as much as an eight year old could glare, at the billionaire.

“How old are you?” 

I shrugged, and started to help Lauren bring the dishes to the table, ignoring his question. 

~

“Want a beer?” Steve asked, holding out an unopened bottle to me.

I saw both Clint and Lauren open their mouths, but before they could said anything, I settled my face with a neutral expression and told him bluntly. “I don’t drink.” before walking past him to grab a soda out of the fridge. 

I grabbed one of the glass cokes that were kept stocked next to the beers and popped the top off, tossing it into the little bin next to the fridge. 

“Mind if I ask why?” Stark asked, sipping on whatever it was. 

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t like it. It dulls the senses and I’ve genuinely never had an alcoholic drink that tastes good. Besides, I feel like I’ve had enough alcohol to last me the rest of my life.”

“Are the cows names just numbers?” The dark red-head blurts out as I was sitting down. 

I took a sip of my drink and tried to piece together the best way to explain to her that I knew how. 

“Technically yes, we have three-hundred and seventy-nine cows in our herd, we can’t really give them all names. Well, the older ones, the ones past twenty, yes we name, but we also retire them.” 

“Just because they can’t breed?” 

“Yes and no, they are old enough and have had at a minimum of three calves, so I see no reason to have them out with the bulls where they could potentially get pregnant again and miscarry, or end up dying during labor. Or, if they resist the bulls, the bulls will attack them. Occasionally, if I have an orphan calf or if I am given one, I give it to the older ones because they know how to care for them.”

“Giving them a chance at motherhood again without the pain of pregnancy or the dangers of giving birth.” Lauren adds on, raising her mug to me. 

“Exactly. I try my best to look after them. If an animal’s well-being is ever called into question, especially if it has to do with how they could live the rest of their life in pain, I do everything I can to make sure that animal will not be in pain even if it means relentless vet visits or having to euthanize so they can have a chance of being free from the pain. And trust me, I hate it. But it is necessary.”

“You definitely sound like you’ve been doing this for a long time. Where on earth do you get the money for the vet visits though? I imagine with all of the animals you have the bills are ridiculous.” 

“I know a couple people, and I do the occasional mission to help fund the farm if needed. However, that's only when Clint or Nat are on leave.” 

“Why?” 

“I’d rather not leave my family without someone who knows how to protect them. That and someone who knows how to manage the farm when they’re gone.”

“Even then, I rely on the girls more than anything when it’s just me here. The cows have a particular…fondness for me.” Natasha spoke over her cup of juice. 

I chuckled. “They know a good soul when one’s around, I don’t blame em’ for gathering around you.” 

“Not when they leave their calves with me! I don’t know what to do with baby cows!”

[floweryred]

In Last Life, Joel didn’t have any real allies.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, I suppose, becoming the Boggieman on his second session, losing four lives trying to get a kill, and managing to make an enemy out of everyone in the process. However, Scar was also the Boggieman, and he didn’t die once. Most people didn’t die trying to get a kill. Still, it’s hard not to feel a little bad for him. His start was promising, too. Partnered with Scar on magical mountain with five lives. However, three poor attempts at murder and one risky gamble with Tango put him as a red in his second session, guaranteeing that he was alone.

And then what became of him? When Joel didn’t have any allies, he really tried to keep himself entertained. He’s not very good at setting traps, but with nobody to stop him (or nobody to help him) he runs around for two whole sessions attempting to get a kill. And he sort of loses his mind? Getting more and more desperate to the point to screaming, giggling(?), And even saying at one point “going a bit mad, going a bit mental.” In a high pitched singsong voice.

And when he finally got one, Grian, and took him down to red life, Joel said “…now I have a friend”. And then he got another one, Cleo. The pure joy you can hear in his voice when he gets both of these is honestly adorable. But he is so desperate for blood. (And you could say that it’s because he was red, but I don’t think so. Because he’s been red other times, and he wasn’t this insane.) and he worked tirelessly, failing over and over again, until he found a friend. And then, like I’ve said, they were inseparable, dying screaming each others names.

Because when Joel was alone, without any allies, he immediately lost his mind. And he worked tirelessly to force an alliance through bloodshed.

In Double Life, Pearl didn’t have any real allies.

This sounds almost impossible. She was soul-bound to Scott, but they were not allied. It was simply decided that she was not wanted, and so she was cast away. She wasn’t even allies with Martyn, who was also cast away from his soulmate. Instead, she was forced in to a tower alone.

And then what became of her? Well, Pearl made her own ally, her own soulmate. A wolf, Tilly. And then Tilly dies and she gets another Tilly. She was alone, but she manages to make the best of her situation, finding a way to torture the soulmate who abandoned her with powdered snow. She makes a habit of stealing “as a joke”, which eventually gets her killed. (Side note, Joel actually killed them both times. Good for him ig).

She doesn’t face her soulmate until the fifth session, but it was more out of necessity and “safety in numbers” (Along with Cleo and Martyn). But their alliance is uneasy and very on-and-off. Still, Pearl does very well on her own, managing to keep herself sane with just her dogs. The only time she kills (aside from the end) anyone is when her true soulmate, Tilly, is killed in the final session and she gets revenge. And she takes on Martyn and Cleo with just her wolves as a final battle. And she still wins. And Pearl emerges from Double life victorious.

(I’m ignoring Scott’s self-sacrifice)

Because when Pearl was alone, she was entirely self-reliant and managed to get a victory.

In Secret Life, Scar and Lizzie didn’t have any real allies.

I’ve already posted about this, so I will keep it shorter. But Lizzie and Scar both had no allies.

Lizzie kicked Cleo out of her area at the very start. Cleo built a horrible oak platform over her cherry blossom one and Lizzie “evicted” her. And then she never managed to make another ally. She taunted Grian for not having friends (instead of offering to join him or something) and seemed relatively content alone until her task requires the whole server to cooperate and she couldn’t get anyone to listen to her. Nobody came to her party (which to be fair, was probably because they were already suspicious of her trying to get them to go to The End) and she was killed by Jimmy when trying to cheer herself up. She went around trying desperately to do her red tasks. And then she died first, alone in the void, attempting to kill Scott.

Because when Lizzie was alone, she did so poorly she broke Jimmy’s Canary Curse.

But Scar, well, Scar was evil. He usually is. He didn’t make any allies in Last Life either, and he was fine. But Scar was different because he at some point decided not to be evil. But he had to. The Secret Keeper forced him to. And he would tell himself “I’m going to make friends today” and then would instead need to be ‘disliked by a majority of people on the server’ or ‘do the opposite of whatever anyone tells you’. But he built a reputation as a general nuisance instead of a threat. And so in the finale, he managed to join up with multiple alliances and nobody stopped him, because he was seen as harmless. And he stuck with an alliance he was never a part of until it had fallen to pieces and he and Pearl were the only ones left in it. And he didn’t kill her, instead using her to take out Gem. And then they were the only ones left. And then he did kill her. Finishing his final task.

Because when Scar was alone, he managed to scam and villain his way in to victory.

Well?

Maybe you’ve noticed something. Two people, Lizzie and Joel, did very poorly. And they sort of went crazy. While SL Scar and Pearl both won, despite their lack of friendships and alliances.

And the difference between the two groups, is that the people who did poorly…? Honestly I’m not sure. I think it may just be that the people who went crazy tried to go on a murderous rampage/ just were generally unpleasant and were seen as threats because of it. But then, SL Scar was the same way? Maybe it’s just because he’d built a reputation, but Joel and Lizzie had both only played one season before their nonsense. Or maybe it’s just because some people aren’t meant to be that alone.

Maybe we’ll never know.

*(I specified SL Scar because Last Life Scar also had no allies but I didn’t want to write about him twice. And SL Scar balanced out my 2/2 thing)

[rupturedhaven]

“I take great comfort in the fact that fires don’t burn forever.” Nikolai said, his eyes fixated on the flames. “The only trouble is there’s usually a hundred fires burning at once.”

“Maybe you’ll turn into a phoenix next time and rise from the ashes.” Zoya offered.

“I’d hate to steal Oretsev’s thunder.” Nikolai smirked. “...Depressing thought, isn’t it? Next time. No stopping it, just containing it.”

“That won’t be forever. We’ll find a way.” Zoya stated. I won’t rest until we do.

“I hope so. I miss my silk robe.”

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to cope without such a necessity.”

“It’s been hard, but I’ve found the strength to push through.” Nikolai smiled.

Day 2 of the #GrishaverseAdventCalendar, "Fireplace". Some potentially canon Zoyalai during King of Scars for you today. Not very holiday-themed but I wrote around the first image that came to mind. Enjoy!

[theladyofbloodshed]

You're the Closest to Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 22

There was nothing unusual to Azriel about surviving off little sleep. It had been the way he had always functioned. After he had spoken with Nesta, neither seemed able to break the contact. Nesta had turned back to her chair and settled in with her book. She’d not objected when Azriel lounged on the couch next to her in a casualness that he never usually shared with others. Nesta had read in silence, the turns of her pages slowing as the minutes ticked by. He busied himself with reports from his spies as they canvassed the mortal queens' palaces. Elain’s words about withered hands and a crying girl had worried him, so he was reluctant to pull his spies from the Continent. When he’d next glanced at Nesta, her head was leaning against the inside wing of the arm chair, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. For a long time, Azriel had lain there gazing at her while his shadows were content to do the same. When light began to leak into the sky, signalling the arrival of dawn, he stroked a finger against her hand to wake her and send her off to bed for a few hours.

The exhaustion that he felt as he waited for Feyre to emerge from her bedroom that morning had him grinning like a fool. He’d tire himself that way every night if it meant he got to steal a few quiet moments in Nesta’s presence. The bond didn’t need to be touched anytime soon. He wouldn’t push it. The fact that she hadn’t slammed the door and locked it was good enough for him. For a little boy who had never believed in hope, now that he had it, it was a dangerous thing. He had waited five hundred years to love her, he'd wait as long as it took.

Once, the argument with Mor might have stung. Her betrayal might have brought him to his knees. Allying with Eris was a necessity to keep Keir under the thumb. If Azriel could overcome five centuries of worthlessness, Mor could overcome her feelings surrounding Eris. His heart didn’t feel the bruise of her outrage. His heart was too preoccupied with Nesta to give anything to another female.

Even when Azriel had winnowed Feyre to a cliff near the Illyrian Steppes, his focus was off. He went through the basic instructions of managing currents and downdrafts, how the heat and cold could shape the wind and speed. His heart was elsewhere. Floating on a cloud somewhere.

We’re running towards a war and I’ve barely caught my breath but all I know is that I feel better near you.

Shit. That first part should have had him panicking, but the latter left him boneless. I feel better near you. It wasn’t in Azriel’s nature to put others at ease. Even Rhys was uneasy around him. Many times, Rhys and Cassian had to pull him back from the brink when he’d lost himself – and he’d seen their discomfort at who he was. Although he knew that Nesta had never seen that side of him, he had a feeling it wouldn’t disgust her. She might love him both before and after she learnt what he was.

‘Did you talk to Mor since last night?’

Azriel blinked until the pine trees weren’t a blur. Feyre’s body was held forwards to counteract the heavy weight of the Illyrian wings that she’d modelled on his own. Her hands braced on her knees to manage.

‘No. I haven’t.’

That was all he’d offer. Rhys likely had heard him arrive or at least felt him pass through the wards once he’d returned from a hurried journey to the Continent. Once upon a time, Azriel would have begged Mor’s forgiveness, begged even for a touch, despite knowing it was the right call to bring in Eris. She’d feel the slight, he knew. Feel aggrieved that Azriel hadn’t sought her out to apologise.

‘Again,’ he said to Feyre then jerked his chin towards the edge of the cliff for her to take a leap and fly.

***

Once again, that incompetent healer strode through the doors with her nose stuck in the air. Feyre danced around her, filling her in on the details of Elain’s conception through the Cauldron, as if Madja had not already seen to their lethargic sister many times. Madja was likely laughing at the amount of money she had been able to fleece from the high lord.

When Feyre perched on the edge of a chair near Nesta, bracing her body as if it ached, Nesta caught a faint whiff of night chilled mist upon her clothing. She knew that scent, but like hell was she going to ask Feyre why she’d been with Azriel.

Madja prodded and poked Elain again. Her magic spiralled around her frail body as the healer commented that she needed more food and fresh air as if Nesta hadn’t done her best to force food down her neck or get her outside as often as she could.

The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. ‘See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.’

‘How.’

Madja rounded on her, speaking as if Nesta was a small child. ‘The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.’

And that was how Nesta ended trapped at a table with Amren, receiving a verbal lashing every few minutes for not giving her undivided attention to the lesson when Elain had taken tea with Lucien. Her poor sister hardly knew what was happening. Their tea cups sat untouched with Feyre and Morrigan drinking their own on the table nearby, watching them like a pair of vultures. It was less about Lucien and more about the bond. Feyre was head over heels for her high lord, their bond well and truly locked in. Nesta needed to see a bond from another perspective.

Could Lucien really sense something wrong with Elain? Was that how Azriel had known how to help her heal? She was grateful that nobody else knew about them – except the brute. Nesta would rather figure it out without interference. Elain was not offered the same privacy to sort through her feelings, nor was she in a state to do it.

Once the lesson was done for the day, Nesta retreated to the smaller library in the town house to begin her research on bonds once more. Nobody tended to bother her. Everybody stayed out of her way which was how she preferred things. She took her book to the garden where she settled beneath a wide parasol to listen to the flow of the turquoise river.

It had gone well, to an extent. New books had appeared that morning which she suspected had been put there by Azriel, but they offered both good and bad accounts of mating bonds to keep her fully informed. For many, they were a wondrous thing. For others, they were an excuse for wrong-doing, a way to treat somebody terribly and blame it on love. Too much love became a poison.

A great shadow blocked out the sun entirely.

‘Oh, not you,’ she murmured.

Cassian snatched the book from her hands. ‘What’s this?’

‘A book. Have you never encountered one before?’

Uninvited, he flopped into the seat beside her. His hazel eyes scanned the first few lines of text which detailed a series of brutal murders enacted by a male driven to madness by his female who encouraged him to do it. It was tempting to use such a skill on this male with Azriel as her blade.

‘What’s this rubbish?’

‘I’d like to be informed before I commit to an eternity.’

‘So, you’ll accept the bond?’

Nesta gritted her teeth. ‘Why not say it a little louder? I shall not discuss my choices with you.’

‘Az is a great male.’

‘Yes, he is. But I care little for a faerie bond that I have no choice in.’

Cassian’s brows drew together in disbelief. ‘A mating bond is the greatest thing in the world.’

‘I believe you said the same about the steak you ate yesterday and when Rhysand tripped on the edge of the rug.’

The memory brought amusement to his tan face. ‘I’m an optimist who finds joy in the world.’ He glanced around the garden, as if wary of shadows waiting to chase him off. ‘You can’t really be debating this. It’s Azriel. He’s your mate. There’s a long line of broken-hearted females wishing they were in your shoes.’

‘I’m sure everybody is queuing to be submerged in the Cauldron for an eternity.’

Cassian folded his arms across his broad chest and gave a loud sigh. ‘What’s putting you off?’

Nesta snatched the book from the table where he’d discarded it and rose to her feet. ‘I am not discussing this with the likes of you.’

Before she could escape, Cassian stood too, his wings and head scraping the roof of the parasol. ‘My brother would love you deeply if you’d let him.’

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it. He wouldn’t do such a thing without a bond telling him to. Nobody would.’

***

Feyre was trying hard in her flying lessons alongside Azriel but she showed the same fear that he once did. It was difficult to override the panic of going too high, not trusting instincts to keep you in the air. Her landings were improving. She’d only hit a single tree that morning.

Azriel fished out the splinters from her hand and cleaned them whilst telling her of Miriam, Drakon, and Nephelle. He hoped the story would bring hope to his High Lady that she’d learn to fly. Hope was one of the most powerful forces in the world.

It came as no surprise to Azriel when Feyre declined the offer to fly with him the next day or to train with Cass. She met them on the doorstep, grimacing and bracing her aching back on the doorframe. Azriel handed over a tin of salve for her aches which Rhys would no doubt enjoy slathering all over her body.

‘Cass, can you fly Nesta up to the House? She’s not found anything in the books here about patching up the Wall. Maybe Clotho can help.’

Azriel tried not to feel slighted that Cassian was chosen for the duty rather than him. He knew who Nesta would rather fly her.

The sisters were finishing off their breakfast, Nesta in a pale grey gown that brought out the steel of her eyes and Elain in a dusky pink one. She seemed more lucid today – and Nesta looked happier as a result as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Cassian stalked forwards and reached right over Nesta’s shoulder to grab a muffin from its little basket. ‘Morning, Nesta,’ he said around a mouthful of blueberry-lemon. ‘Elain.’

Nesta’s nostrils flared at the proximity but Elain peered up at him, blinking twice as if she was trying to place his face. ‘He snapped your wings, broke your bones.’

Nesta stared at her plate, cold revulsion flooding their bond.

‘It’ll take more than that to kill me,’ Cassian said with a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes.

Elain only said to Cassian, ‘No, it will not.’

If only to take the terror off of Nesta’s face, Azriel extended a hand to Elain. ‘The herbs you planted are growing already. Let’s set you up in the garden.’

This is for you, he wanted to say as Nesta monitored him closely. To ease the burden and show you that you don’t have to do it alone.

***

Cassian shoved the last mouthful of his muffin into his mouth then sprayed crumbs across the room as he said, ‘The female that’s Az’s mate is blessed by the Mother. Lucky, lucky female.’

He licked each one of his fingers, making a smacking noise with his lips.

‘Really, Feyre, I thought your animals would be house trained by now.’

The wrong thing to say from the low, rough laugh that Cassian gave. ‘Ready for some flying, Nes?’

‘Don’t call me that.’

It was at that moment that Feyre chose to winnow, claiming she’d meet Nesta up at the house for their research.

Nesta threw a muffin at Cassian. ‘Will you stop with the heavy-handedness?’

‘Accept the bond.’

‘Stop it.’

They walked in silence to the front garden where Cassian opened his arms to fly her. The memory of Rhysand plummeting into freefall with her in his arms churned her stomach already.

‘Why can’t Azriel fly me and you look after Elain?’

‘Because Azriel won’t push this and I will,’ he gloated.

She was roughly hauled into his arms, the grip tight.

‘Do you understand the meaning of the word no? I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not to you.’

With a bend of his knees, Cassian pushed off from the ground. His sprawling black wings swept them up into the air with a few powerful beats. Nesta screwed her eyes shut once they were airborne, not wanting to think about the height or the wind whipping at her face.

‘Because I have you at my mercy in the skies, why won’t you just give him a chance?’

Nesta didn’t dignify the Illyrian with a response. Her mouth was so dry, she probably couldn’t even if she had wanted to.

‘He wants to love you. He’d be all in. Nothing left at the door. Don’t tell Rhys, but I think Az would be even more devoted. He’s not got a court to look after, only you.’

Nesta let him prattle on and on and on. It distracted her attention enough to not worry so intensely about the sheer drop if he let her go. In a way, it was nice to hear Cassian offering a glowing review of his chosen brother. Nice too to imagine how deeply Azriel might love her. But it all came back to the same thing: how much of it was free choice?

When Cassian set her down – more gently than she was expecting – on the roof, she teased, ‘It sounds like you are in love with him.’

‘He’s a beautiful male. Kind. Good. Never spends any money so his bank account is huge.’

‘Goodbye Cassian.’

With Cassian’s adulations of Azriel ringing in her ears, Nesta stepped a little lighter towards the massive library carved into the mountain. Feyre awaited her at the entrance. ‘Rhys gave a layout of the stacks. I think there might be more on the Cauldron and wall a few levels down. You can wait here or-’

‘I’ll help you look. That is my purpose, is it not?’

For an hour or so they wound down the spirals of the library, searching every tome for a shred of hope that they could repair the wall.

‘I didn’t know you couldn’t really read,’ Nesta said as she paused before a nondescript section, noticing the way Feyre silently sounded out the words of a title. ‘I didn’t know where you were in your lessons—when it all happened. I assumed you could read as easily as us.’

‘Well, I couldn’t,’ she snapped.

‘Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?’

Feyre trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. ‘Because I doubted you would agree to help.’

Nesta stiffened like she had been hit, coldness blooming in those eyes. That did wound her. Reading was her love. It always had been. Of course, she’d have helped Feyre if she struggled. Women who knew to read could go further in life. She tugged a book from a shelf. ‘Amren said Rhysand taught you to read.’

‘He did,’ acknowledged Feyre. And there, deep beneath the world, with only darkness for company, she asked, ‘Why do you push everyone away but Elain?’

Emotion guttered in Nesta’s eyes. Her throat bobbed. She shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in sharply.

‘Because—’

The words stopped. A ripple and a tremor hit them. It was like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. They turned toward the illuminated path then to the dark far, far beyond. The faelights along the ceiling began to sputter and die. One by one. Closer and closer to them.

‘What is that,’ Nesta breathed.

‘Run.’

[gunilslaugh]

Ex's Best Friend

Goo Gunil

Summary: You run into your ex’s best friend and he tells you that he misses you.

WC:~1.1k

Warning:grammar

This more platonic rather than romantic.

Goo Gunil

Summary: You run into your ex’s best friend and he tells you that he misses you.

WC:~1.1k

Warning:grammar

photo not mine credits to owner.

Today was as normal as any other day. You were out grocery shopping, picking up any necessities that you needed. After paying for your groceries you exited the store and walked towards your car. 

“Y/n!” A voice called out for you. Turning your attention to the direction of the voice to find its owner. The voice belonged to Gunil, he was the best friend of your ex. Your ex and you ended your relationship on horrible terms. You found out that he had been cheating on you for over a month. There was no excuse that he could give that would justify what he did. Naturally you ended things with him. Gunil was actually the one who told you about your ex cheating on you. You and him got along well. It was a joke among your ex’s friend group that you were stealing your ex’s place as Gunil’s best friend. 

“Long time no see,” you say, approaching Gunil. You hadn’t seen him since you broke up with your ex five months ago. 

“Yeah, it’s been awhile. How have you been?” Gunil asks you.

“It was a little rough for a bit, but I’m much better now,” you answered. “How have you been?” You returned the question.

“I’ve missed you,” he responds. It was definitely unexpected you didn’t foresee him saying that at all. You can’t say that you didn’t miss him either. You didn’t just end things with your ex when the breakup happened. You non-directly ended your friendship with Gunil too. It was collateral. “The others miss you too,” Gunil added, coughing awkwardly. 

“Shouldn’t you guys be glad that I’m not there to interrupt boys' night?” You jested. 

“Aye! You were very much one of the bros. We all liked spending time with you,” Gunil defended. 

“I miss you guys too. How are they doing?” You questioned. Gunil went quiet for a moment, looking like he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. 

“They’re good,” he finally says. 

“Are you not telling me something?” You interrogated. Gunil eyes the grocery bags in your hands.

“You should get your groceries home,” he tells you. Now you know there’s something he’s not telling you.

“After you tell me,” you stated. “I’ll go after you tell me,” you reiterated. Gunil sighed, remembering how stubborn that you could be. 

“Can we at least talk in your car and not in the middle of the parking lot?” Gunil asks.

“Yeah, follow me,” you instructed. You lead the way to where your car was parked. Once you reached your car you unlocked it and put your groceries in the back seat. Afterwards you gestured for Gunil to get in as you did yourself. “So what is it?” You questioned after Gunil shut the door.

“Our friend group kinda…split,” Gunil reveals. 

“What? Why?” You were shocked.

“Some of us didn't want to forgive e/n for cheating on you. There was actually a big fight about it. Everyone was mad at him for it, cause we all viewed you as a friend. It bothered some of us more than others. There was a split between those of us who couldn’t forgive him and those who were just mad and needed time to get over it,” Gunil explained. Somehow you felt responsible. “Don’t feel bad y/n. It’s not your fault. It’s e/n being a cheater that we couldn’t accept,” seemingly Gunil could read your thoughts.

“When did this happen?” You wondered.

“About two months ago,” Gunil answered.

“You haven’t talked to e/n in two months then?” You inferred. 

“Guess he’s a common ex between us. Your ex boyfriend, my ex best friend,” Gunil chuckled.

“It sounds funny when you say it like that, a common ex,” you snickered. Gunil’s chuckle turned into laughter. “We should hang out again, I miss it,” you suggested. 

“That would be nice, I could invite the others too,” Gunil recommended. 

“Yes, I can infiltrate boys’ night again,” you said excitedly. “Here let me give you my number,” you took out your phone. Gunil took out his as well and you both put in your contacts. Afterwards you decided that you really should be getting your groceries home, so you bid goodbye to Gunil, with the promise of texting him later. 

Arriving home you put your groceries away. Once you were done you pulled out your phone and sent a text to Gunil. The two of you chatted and set up a date and time for you and the boys to hang out together. You were excited to be able and see them again because you never thought that you would. 

The date came for hanging out with the boys. You had all decided to go bowling. You all met up outside the bowling alley. 

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Seungmin said as he pulled you into a hug. 

“Don’t hog them,” Jooyeon smacked Seungmin away, so that he could hug you too. Jiseok joined the hug, squishing you in the middle. Oh how you missed the antics of these two. After they release you Jungsu and Hyeongjun also greet you.

“We won’t squish you to death,” Jungsu jokes.

“Shall we head in,” Gunil says. All of you agreed and headed inside. You all got situated between the two lanes you guys paid for. Jiseok, Jooyeon, Seungmin and Hyeongjun were on one lane, you Gunil and Jungsu on the other. 

“You know I’ve never seen Gunil that mad before,” Jungsu told while Gunil was up to bowl.

“What?” You were confused.

“Over e/n cheating on you. He went into a full overprotective brother mode of some sort. He gave e/n a black eye, busted his lip and nose. Looked like he wanted to kill him,” Jungsu informed. You turned to look at Gunil for a moment.

“I didn’t know that,” you turned back to Jungsu.

“I figured he wouldn’t tell you. I wanted to punch him too honestly, but Gunil beat him enough for all of us,” Jungsu stated. 

“Thank you,” you tell Jungsu. 

“For what?” Jungsu questions, unsure.

“For telling me. For wanting to punch my ex. I’d thank Gunil too, but I have a feeling he doesn’t want me to know that he did that, so I’ll act like I don’t,” you explained. 

“What are you two gossiping about?” Gunil says as he returns from his turn. 

“That’s nice to be one of the bros again,” you declared. 

“Yeah we’re glad to have you back,” Gunil strongly patted you on the back. Maybe a little too strongly as you let out a slightly pained grunt. 

“Oh sorry,” Gunil apologies, rubbing your back in an effort to soothe it.

Perhaps the bros little sister was a better term for what you were, but the specifics didn’t matter. You were glad to have Gunil back and Gunil was just as glad if not more to have you back too.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Trigger warning - self hate

Looking for - anything you want to say

When I’m eating food, I feel bad like I don’t deserve to eat the food. I feel guilty every time I get a snack for myself or a blanket to cover me to be comfy.

I think about myself in that moment and can’t help but think I’m worthless.

I never ask for anything, I’ve always been the quiet one who doesn’t ask for anything or to join the car ride somewhere unless I’m told to.

When I take up space anywhere I go I feel like I’m stealing from others who deserve it more than me.

I expect people to get mad, hate on me, treat me like shit, although most people I meet are super kind to me I just can’t handle their kindness it makes me cry.

I don’t feel like I “own” my own space or things, I feel like everything I own or space I take up is automatically someone’s else’s who is worth more than me.

I am defective.

I can’t stop feeling guilty over everything I do even when I’m not really doing much of anything.

Everyone around me growing up at school and at home the adults and the kids all told me I was worthless. It must be true. I hate being kind to myself when I’m told I should be. I don’t feel like I’m telling myself the truth when I’m doing that, I feel like I’m lying to myself.

I was born defective. I remember always being this way from a young age. I feel guilty no matter what I do throughout my days. Like I don’t deserve anything. Not even food and water.

I understand I was abused. I understand the role I played for my abusers growing up. But I still can’t help but believe I deserved to be abused bc they said I hurt them all first… I offended them all the time, I upset them everyday, everything I did upset them. I was difficult and took space others needed and deserved and not me. I always felt so bad for them I always always upset them all at home and at school. I was and still am someone who has something intrinsically wrong with them.

Doing nice things for myself feels wrong…

I am defective. I am worthless. My abusers were right, they were right, my abusers are the only ones who never lied to me.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through and the impact it's had on your self-perception and self-worth. It sounds like your experiences enduring abuse has deeply affected you to the point that you've been made to believe that you were "defective" from birth.

You deserve to have basic necessities like food and water. You deserve to take up space. You deserve to feel comfortable, loved, and supported, as much as your abusers have tried to convince you otherwise. Being made to believe that you don't deserve to be treated with respect is something abusers intentionally instill because that kind of mindset can be easier to take advantage of (like feeling like you deserve the abuse and feel less motivated to escape, something an abuser wants for you). Abusers want you to believe you don't deserve anything better so that they can abuse you for as long as possible. That's why they're so repelled by people with self-compassion and confidence.

There is only much that I can say and do to help here. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help you process your experiences and how they have shaped the way you treat yourself. While it can be incredibly difficult to make that first step in seeking help when you simultaneously believe you don't deserve it, you've already begun by reaching out to us, and the transformative capabilities of therapy could be life-changing for you.

If anyone would like to make any comments or suggestions, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please know that we're here if you need anything.

-Bun

[draculesmihawk]

EYES LIKE SINKING SHIPS ON WATERS (I ALMOST JUMP IN)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x OFC

Summary: He’s a stranger. She’s an unusual assignment. He may be everything she’s looking for, but she’s a presence that grows more intriguing – and infuriating – by the moment.

CHAPTER FIVE: i am a fire, you're gasoline (come pour yourself all over me)

[AO3]

The morning after was for taking stock of their inventory and of themselves. 

After a night of drinking there -- thankfully -- were no casualties, no missing crew members, and no loss of limbs. Well, none that they haven’t already lost. The worst thing would be the hangovers. The sluggish movements. The need for quiet. Shanks was struggling with all of these as he sat on a nearby log, hunched over with his head in his hand. He would vow not to drink again, but it would have been a fool’s promise. Alcohol was like water to him. A necessity. There were far too many positives to outweigh one little, albeit annoying headache the morning after.

“You look dreadful.”

Shanks raised his head just enough to catch Mihawk cross the sands towards camp. He surmised the other man had spent the night on his boat, wherever he had tucked it away. Most likely in an attempt to avoid sleeping on sand like the rest of them. Shanks lifted a hand in a half wave, half shoo away motion. He knew exactly how he looked, which was about as much as he felt. Still, the red headed pirate had a smile on his lips.

“I don’t recall any screams of terror,” Shanks noted, “I assume you weren’t the one to steal Aurelia away in the middle of the night.”

“What do you mean?” Mihawk inquired.

“She wasn’t in her tent when I woke,” Shanks yawned, hand scrubbing at his face as he spoke.

“You lost her?”

“I didn’t lose her--”

“Where the bloody hell is she then?”

Shanks watched as Mihawk began to stomp towards camp, stopping sharply at the familiar feminine voice that cut through the air.

“She’s right here.”

Shanks turned his gaze, watching as Aurelia stepped into the clearing just off from where he sat. Hair wet and collected in a twist over her shoulder, she carried a bundle of clothes under her arm. The tell tale signs of the freshly bathed. She donned the dress she originally wore when he met her, though the rip in her dress had been shoddily repaired by Benn days ago.

“You shouldn’t go off by yourself,” Mihawk warned.

“I’ve managed just fine since arriving to this island,” Aurelia remarked, turning her words from Mihawk to Shanks, “So ignore the urge to hand me off to the next available man for assistance, as I am quite capable of tending to my own bathing.”

“Sweetheart--”

The attempt was promptly ignored as Aurelia breezed past the two men, walking back to camp. Shanks groaned as he dropped his head back to his hand. He heard the sharp exhale from Mihawk, a clear beat of frustration coming from the other man. A refreshing revelation, as his friend rarely showed any sort of emotion outside of his usual indifference. 

“I know what I did to deserve that dig,” Shanks spoke, stretching out his legs as he tried to get comfortable. He looked up at Mihawk. “What did you do?”

“Nothing she didn’t initiate,” Mihawk said through his teeth.

“What was that?” Shanks asked, though the slow curve on his lips indicated he heard just fine.

Mihawk promptly ignored the question, watching from a distance as Aurelia seemingly began to take stock of the inventory with Benn. It was no surprise to him that the woman fit seamlessly with Shanks and his men. She possessed an air of ease with her that carried on well with the other pirates. He watched as she engaged in conversation with Shanks’s first mate. Benn leaned towards Aurelia and whatever he said must have been amusing enough to bring about a small laugh from the woman beside him, a sight that seemed to twist at something within Mihawk. Beckman was a known flirt and philanderer. The Warlord shifted on his boots, angling away from the sight. When he turned his attention back to Shanks, it became apparent that his friend had been watching him the whole time. The curve on Shanks’s lips had become a full blown grin.

“I thought you were hungover,” Mihawk said, fixing Shanks with a look.

Hungover people didn’t look as happy as Shanks.

“You know,” his friend pointed out, “It won’t be long before we tap the last of our resources, especially after last night’s festivities. We’ll eventually need to set sail and resupply.”

“I don’t see how that’s any business of mine,” Mihawk dryly replied.

“Aurelia will be with us,” Shanks beamed, “Perhaps you’ll follow, spend a day in town. You’ll find she’s great company, if given the chance.”

Mihawk’s already dour expression somehow took an even more of a turn. How was that possible?

“You can’t seriously be considering bringing her onto this crew,” Mihawk said, as Shanks sluggishly pushed himself onto his feet. 

“I don’t see why not,” Shanks easily replied, “She needs safe passage while traveling and we’ve no issue having her onboard.”

“She knows nothing of this life,” Mihawk argued, “She lacks the skill to survive at sea. You know this.”

“She will learn.”

“And you’re willing to risk it -- risk her life -- in the meantime?” Mihawk was quick to return. 

Shanks watched his friend closely as Mihawk stepped towards him. He took note of the flex of his hand, the shift of his body, the change in his breathing. Though Mihawk looked calm, Shanks knew better.

“If she were to join you, she would be exposed to every danger imaginable,” Mihawk told him, “And you, with your nonchalant disposition and your utter reluctance in the face of conflict, would fail to protect her.”

Shanks fixed Mihawk with a firm gaze. 

“Say whatever you want about me,” Shanks countered, “But one thing you should never doubt are the lengths I would go for my friends. If she were to choose a life at sea with my crew, we would take her in without hesitation. Whatever she desires, I will make it happen for her.”

This was no passing conversation between friends. It was a debate over Aurelia, her future, and their place in it.

“I’d take care to remember who exactly you are speaking to, Hawk-Eye,” Shanks gravely imparted, voice low so only the other man could hear his words, “Between the two of us, only one has chosen to align himself with those who seek to bring her harm.”

A heavy silence fell between the two men. Neither man was willing to concede to the other. Both determined to get their points across. Their eyes only broke from one another as Aurelia and Benn began to make her way over to them from the campsite. Act natural. Or as natural as two men in an argument can look. Shanks slid an easy smile onto his face as the others approached. Mihawk simply stared at the approaching woman. 

“We’ve supplies for a week,” Benn said to Shanks.

“We’ll start packing up over the next day or so,” Shanks nodded, “Leave the bulk of inventory to tide us over to the next town.”

Shanks chanced a glance in Aurelia’s direction, trying to gauge whether she still carried the cold shoulder she had moments earlier. Her arms were crossed over her chest, expression somewhat chilly. Mihawk watched closely as Benn leaned down to whisper something in Aurelia’s ear. Whatever those words were caused a faint roll to Aurelia’s eyes, though the curve of her lips indicated her spirits were relatively high once more. Mihawk took in the sight of the other man’s hand as it moved to her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. The Warlord briefly debated how much Shanks’s first mate needed that hand. Before he could follow through on that thought, Mihawk looked over to Shanks. He expected the other man to be looking at Aurelia as well. What he didn’t expect was to see his friend looking in his direction, that knowing look in his eye. Whatever was shared in silence between the two men was broken as they heard Aurelia finally speak.

“It’d be wise to collect from the island as well,” Aurelia offered, “I know of a few spots where the island bore fruit. It won’t be much, but perhaps Roux would enjoy incorporating them into his meat dishes.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, sweetheart.”

Shanks looked from Aurelia to Benn, smiling as Benn nudged Aurelia in encouragement. Her resolve seemed to melt away as her stiff posture began to ease. Knowing the small tiff had passed, Shanks surged forward and swept Aurelia into a hug. Laughter erupted within the group -- sans Mihawk, who watched in silence -- as Shanks lifted Aurelia with one arm, spinning their bodies with ease. She wiggled from his grasp, falling backward with a laugh when she broke free from the hug. A firm hand found its way to her side, keeping her upright as she found her footing. Mihawk. Aurelia knew the touch before she could look over her shoulder and confirm it. She ignored the way his hand brushed along her hip as he slowly moved his hand away. She moved to place herself beside the other man, finding it a much better alternative to standing directly in front of him. 

“At the risk of earning your ire once more,” Shanks carefully began to say, “I suggest taking someone with you, if you’re to travel deeper into the island.”

“Shanks…”

Mihawk resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Shanks reached out to take Aurelia’s hand into his. The slight tilt of his head, the pleading puppy eyes, the softness of his voice. The red headed pirate took that moment to pour on the charm. 

“Please,” Shanks all but cooed, “For me. For my own peace of mind.”

Mihawk definitely rolled his eyes now.

“Fine,” Aurelia gave in, “But whoever it is gets to carry the bag.”

That was enough for Shanks, who grinned and reached over to wrap an arm around Aurelia’s shoulders. She leaned into him instinctively as he hugged her to his side. He nodded towards the campsite in the distance.

“Take your pick, sweetheart,” Shanks told her, “I doubt anyone here would deny an afternoon in your company.”

Mihawk watched as Benn began to step forward to volunteer. Before the other man could get his first word out, Mihawk was already in motion. He moved, cutting through the space between Beckman and where Aurelia and Shanks stood. His eyes stayed on the woman as he moved past her. 

“Get your bag.”

The words were final. No room for arguments.

“Chin up, sweetheart. Remember to be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“To us, maybe.”

Aurelia sighed, looking over to Shanks as Mihawk began to head towards camp. It wasn’t like what Shanks was lying. She knew it was true. She gave the others far more grace than the Warlord. Benn sent a sympathetic shrug in her direction before moving off towards the encampment as well. Side by side, with his arm slung around her shoulders, Shanks walked Aurelia back to camp.

“You’ll find he’s great company, if given the chance.”

Only she didn’t want to give him a chance.

To give a man like Mihawk a chance would be at her own risk. A great risk. Quite literally, as he was tasked with dragging her back where she didn’t desire to be. She tried to keep that in her mind as she walked the island forest with him. Aurelia watched as Mihawk bent down to pick up a long, narrow stick from the ground. Wordlessly, he held it out to Aurelia. He noted the drag of her gaze, from the makeshift walking stick to his face and back, before she reached out and took the stick. It would come in handy as they began to move up the incline, through the trees and greenery that surrounded them. Mihawk kept a steady pace beside her, netted bag held in his fist. They walked in relative silence the first half of the trip. Him at her side. Her using the walking stick. Neither seemed willing enough to start the conversation. Most likely knowing conversations often led to disaster when it came to the two of them. 

“It’s not far off from here,” Aurelia finally spoke, slightly winded as the ground began to level beneath them.

“And you’ve walked this path before?” Mihawk asked, doubt clear in his voice.

“Two weeks on an island with only men,” she replied, “Wonderful bunch, but at some point a little solitude was needed. I discovered a few things in the meantime.”

Mihawk watched as Aurelia slowed near a patch of trees that seemed to bear fruit. The produce was deeply ridged along its many sides that held a color that was nearly the same shade as his eyes. Aurelia held out her hand for the bag in his hand, swapping the walking stick with the man at her side. He watched as she bent down and went to work picking up the fruit that had fallen from the trees, slipping them into the bag.

“You’re certain this won’t kill us?” he asked. 

He spoke not because he truly thought she’d mistakenly give them a poisonous fruit, but more out of a need to continue the conversation with her. Though he could only see the back of her head, Mihawk could practically see the roll of her eyes as she continued to pick up the fruit at their feet.

“I’m absolutely confident that I’d be serving you all sickly, deadly fruit,” she dryly said, “How else will I make my daring escape from the island?”

Mihawk watched as Aurelia rose to her feet, moving towards the lower hanging branches to pluck directly from the tree. She turned to face him as she worked, looking up at him occasionally as she spoke.

“It won’t kill you,” she told him, “I tried it on a whim a week ago and I’ve yet to keel over dead. I do that with all the fruit I pick.”

She had the pleasure of watching Mihawk’s eyes narrow in on her, lips parting in what would no doubt be the scolding she sought to draw out of him. The reprimand never came. Not when Mihawk caught the glimmer of amusement in her eyes as he neared her. She was goading him and it was very clear she had gotten good at it. Like it was her purpose in life to torment him at every turn. 

“You’re funny,” he said, not one drop of humor in his voice.

“I like to think so,” she replied, all too pleased with herself.

She found it difficult not to slip into that comfortable exchange of words with him. That might be the most frustrating part. Despite all attempts otherwise, Aurelia realized it was far too easy to get under his skin. To tease him. To do that little dance of words around one another. She found herself doing it before she even realized her actions. Shanks’s words crept at the edges of her mind. Frustratingly easy words. 

If given the chance…

Their interactions currently cordial, Mihawk began to pick the fruit from the higher branches. He ignored the way their hands brushed as they took turns slipping the harvested food into the bag. When the bag was nearly full, Aurelia held out the bag for Mihawk to take. His free hand took the sack, but Aurelia didn’t take the walking stick when he held it out for her to take. She stepped forward instead, using his full hands as an opportunity to reach up and unclasp the cross knife from around Mihawk’s neck. 

His mouth instantly opened in protest.

“Little dove--”

Aurelia shushed at him just as quickly. She drew the knife from its sheath before taking a fruit from the bag in his hand. They stood toe to toe as Aurelia brought the knife to the fruit. She sliced at the ends and along the fruit’s ridges silently. Carefully cutting a small portion of the fruit, she hummed in satisfaction when she brought the piece to her lips. Mihawk took in the sight of her. Eyes closed, savoring the taste. Peaceful. That was the word that lingered in his mind as he watched her. He had yet to have seen that expression from her up close until that very moment. 

It was an absolutely breathtaking look on her.

The sound of her clearing her throat drew him away from his thoughts. He blinked, eyes focusing on her again. There she was, under a ray of sun that poked through the trees above them, holding out a piece towards him. It was star-shaped. Ripe and bright in color in her hands. He hesitated. He shouldn’t have. He knew he shouldn’t have, but for some reason he found it incredibly difficult to focus when given Aurelia’s full attention. It wasn’t just the weight of her gaze. It was the way she looked at him. Less wariness. More… something else. Whatever it was, it seemed to hold the power to render him nearly speechless and hasten his pulse all at once.

“You saw me eat it first,” she told him, “A little trust would be nice. Just this once. I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Aurelia laughed at the absurdity of the moment, shaking the fruit in front of his mouth impatiently. That laugh seemed to trail off and halt completely when Mihawk leaned forward and she felt his lips brush against her fingers. Something shifted in her eyes at that moment. Once peaceful, they were now rapt with interest. His eyes remained on hers as he bit into the fruit, felt the mix of sweet and tart on his tongue as he did. What a mouth. The thought seemed determined to enter her mind and take up residence there. She seemed jolted back into the moment when she felt the juice from the fruit trail along her fingers, and saw it drip from the corner of Mihawk’s lips. She drew back her hand, the remaining bit of the fruit still in between her fingers. She popped the last bite into her mouth, quickly wiping her hand along the skirt of her dress before she reached up to swipe at the corner of Mihawk’s lips. 

The laugh that came from her lips now held a breathier weight to it, an air of embarrassment. Still, it was a sound Mihawk realized he would listen to all day. The way she laughed, the curve of her smile… All it did was direct his focus to her lips. The same lips that twisted words at every chance to provoke him. Was it possible the lips that sent him such biting words could also provide something far more favorable? He wondered if those lips were similar to the fruit they just ate. The mix of sweet and sharp. He wondered if maybe, possibly, hopefully he would know the answer to that in time.

If given the chance…

Aurelia felt the bag drop to the ground beside their feet. She heard the walking stick fall as well. Her hand dropped the knife she held as her fingers moved, slid, and took hold of the front of his coat as she felt his body close in on hers. All thoughts fell to the wayside when Mihawk’s hands framed the sides of her face and drew her lips to his own. The sensation that followed sent a shockwave through her whole system. Soft lips that sipped at her like one would a fine wine. A tasteful sampling. Something not to be rushed, but rather savored. Enjoyed. Boy, was he enjoying it too. He kissed her breathless, his hands dropping from her face to take hold of her hips. He drew her nearer, closer, flush against him. Her hands found their way to the sleeves of his coat, held on for dear life when she felt the sway of their bodies. She gasped involuntarily when she felt her back bump against the trunk of the tree they once stood beneath. She barely had a second to look around before she felt Mihawk’s fingers touch her chin, drawing her mouth back to his.

It was sweet. The sweetest he’d ever known. That was what Mihawk tasted when his tongue stroked her own. What was once a careful brush of lips yielded to a much more powerful command. Desire. No longer was this the kiss of a man sipping on a nightly drink to relax. He kissed her now like it was his last act before the end of the world. He felt her body melt against his as he ceaselessly kissed her, drinking down the soft sounds that reverberated from the back of her throat. It was nearly desperate the way he held her to his body. As if she might slip and drift away from his grasp as easily as the wind would whisk away a feather in the breeze. He could feel the oncoming dread at the thought, swallowing it down along with her moan. Soon this wouldn’t be enough. The feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth would not be enough. 

He’d want more before too long.

Hell, he wanted more now. 

In the dirt, under the star-shaped fruit trees. He wanted her beneath him, above him, in any direction she’d let him, and for however long they could go before the little death claimed their bodies and dragged away their souls. Then he wanted it all over again. However, he knew it wouldn’t happen then and now. Not when the sound of her pained groan cut through his thoughts as easily as Yoru could cut through a dozen men. Mihawk tore his lips from hers, drew back just enough to search her face. He was gripping her too tightly. Her back pressed too hard against the sturdy tree. She struggled for breath, eyes blinking wildly as she looked up and around them. Anywhere but those piercing yellow eyes. The softness of his touch as his fingers caressed her cheek was a staggering contrast to the deliciously rough feel of his body against hers moments ago. It was almost too much to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips, placing a soft kiss to them between words, “Forgive me.”

Mihawk watched as the tip of Aurelia’s tongue darted out, lightly brushed against her bottom lip. The same lip was reddened in the aftermath of their passion. He wanted to follow the trail of her tongue with his own. He nearly did, if not for the feeling of Aurelia’s hands against his chest. Her hands remained firm where they were, even as Mihawk dropped his forehead to hers. His eyes closed as he slowly inhaled, forcing his racing heart to steady. He felt the same rapid beats beneath his thumb as he let his hand slide down to the side of Aurelia’s neck.

“We should get back,” Aurelia breathed out.

Mihawk allowed her to back them up one, two steps. His hands fell to his sides as she pulled away slowly, moving to pick up the bag from the ground. Mihawk blinked. Once, twice, then moved to pick up his cross knife and sheath from the ground and fasten it around his neck once more. She was busying herself, keeping her eyes down. Conflict turned over in her mind. She had tried to run from him. He found his way to her regardless. She was not meant to enjoy this man’s company. Yet here he was. Confusion clouded her face. That confusion would only deepen as Mihawk’s lips parted once more to speak.

“Don’t join the crew,” he breathed, voice low as the words drifted between them, “Don’t go with Shanks.”

Her eyes snapped up, locked onto his.

“What?” The first thing that came to her mind. The second came just as quickly. “Why not?”

Aurelia’s fingers fisted around the bag she held as Mihawk stepped towards her. His own fingers itched to touch her, to draw her in once more. He set his wanting hands to his hips instead, fixed her with a look. A simple one. One that expected her to know the answer to her own question. She knew the look. She also knew the answer as well. 

Don’t go with Shanks. 

Come with me instead.

Shaking her head, Aurelia felt a shuddered breath escape her as she began to back away. The bag was heavy in her hands. It was all so impossibly heavy. Aurelia felt the weight of it as she pressed her boots to the pavement and moved. She turned away completely as headed off… somewhere. Anywhere. Any direction but the one Mihawk was at.

“We’re losing light,” she said, as though the last few words they exchanged didn’t happen.

“Little dove--”

“I-I think the others would be happy with what we’ve collected.”

“Aurelia.”

“No,” her voice commanded him, “Mihawk, you cannot do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“You know what,” she huffed, “You need to stay out of my business.”

“You are my business,” he called out from behind her.

Though she didn’t look behind, Aurelia knew he was following after her. He would follow her, chase after her, once more. A hunter seeking his prey. Only for a completely different reason than before. 

“I am your assignment,” she argued, pushing past the bushes at her legs angrily, “One you have made very known you have still accepted. You cannot and will not confuse me with soft words and actions now.”

“There’s nothing soft about me currently,” Mihawk muttered through clenched teeth. His gaze drilled at the back of her head as he moved after her. “And you are not free from sin. Not with words and actions of your own. Explain that, little dove.”

“I don’t know what that was, okay?” Aurelia wanted to scream it out, kick at the dirt. Frustration was clear in her voice. “All I know is that it -- whatever it was -- cannot happen again. Not under these circumstances. Especially not with you.” 

Aurelia pushed at the hair that fell over her eyes, tugged at the shoulder of her dress. She needed more air. More than nature itself can give her, as silly as it sounded. She felt like her breath was being stolen from her. Aurelia felt a haze come over her, clouding her vision. Blurring everything around her. Everything was not enough, yet too much. She could hear Mihawk’s voice speaking to her, but couldn’t seem to make out the words as she pushed forward. Her eyes shut as she felt a pain -- sharp and positively unrelenting -- strike her mind. Again. Over and over. Never-ending. Her senses were overloading. Taking in too much. Failing to block out what couldn’t be absorbed. What couldn’t be placed away. What couldn’t be revealed.

Then, all of a sudden, it all cut away.

The last thing Aurelia felt was her feet go out from under her.

The last sound she could make out was Mihawk’s voice.

Then, all at once, the world went to black and she succumbed to the darkness.

[narumika]

HI BFF CONGRATS ON 5 MIL!! amia famous era real ?! anyways, i’d like to req the scenario of “boyfriend hoodie”/sharing clothes with me and anzu! im 180cm and she’s tiny asf and i think that’s cute 🫶

personality: i like to think im a pretty outgoing person? i’ve been told i make friends easily and am always the loudest person in the room. but i do like my peace and quiet, so i guess you could say im an ambivert? im enthusiastic about my interests and tend to ramble for long periods of time. i also have a quick temper… i’ve been told i come off as “flirty” too hehe.

style: usually i just wear whatever is comfortable, like baggy hoodies and shorts. im preferential to pants/shorts but i do wear the occasional skirt/dress when the occasion calls for it.

taste in music/media: pretty much exciting stuff with not too much content? something with a more linear direction that is easy to follow… basically i think media where it isn’t a necessity to be caught up on content so you can do so in your own time :3 for music, i pretty much listen to whatever catches my fancy at the time lol but rn it’s a lot of jpop (vocaloid, enstars, etc) and kpop (ateez, le sserafim, etc)

pronouns: they/them

scenario: i don’t have much of a concrete idea but like. maybe something where anzu steals my hoodies and wears them in public except they have my last name on the back? idk but something along those lines…

anyways! enjoy your day bff ily 🫶

500 event!

contains: bad layout, cuddling ew, they r canon your honor, silliness involving anzu and ritsu run in, slight ritsumao sorry they are too silly

AMIA: TYSM BFFIE!!! you too ilysm T_T i had a little fun with this i thinksies… i just am a sucker for cuddling scenarios

legs linked together and bodies close, they both slept quietly. anzu woke up first, moving to sit up before reze pulled her back under the covers. “we’re off today.. let’s just sleep in..” they mumbled and anzu smiled, playing with their hair as they fell back asleep.

after an hour or so, reze woke back up and sat up. as they yawned, anzu sat up as well and kissed them on the cheek. “good morning, did you sleep well?” she asked, and they nodded. “do you wanna go get breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking..” they asked before yawning and she replied “sure, let me get a jacket though since it’s kinda cold.”

they got dressed into a random shirt pants combo, before throwing on jackets and hoodies. anzu wore rezes hoodie unknowing of their name on the back of it, and while leaving the house reze pointed it out. “are you wearing my hoodie?” they asked, and anzu shrugged. “probably. but it doesn’t matter does it?” she said and reze kissed her cheek before they walked to a store nearby. ritsu waved at them as he was leaving, before pointing out anzus hoodie. “you guys are so cute. i wish i brought maos hoodie..” he said before joining mao on the bench, opening the bag he had and handing him a drink.

you two entered the store and got what you wanted, before walking out and back home. “it seems like everyone noticed it today.” anzu said while plopping on the couch, almost spilling her coffee in the process. “it’s okay though, it’s cute!” reze said and pat her head.

[toodelusionalforreality]

Absolution

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: ~4.5k

Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]

Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.

His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.

The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight. 

Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.

After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.

Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.

N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.

‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’

N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’

Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’

Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’

‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’

‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’

'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders. 

‘Well, technically, we’re married.’

Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.

‘What?’

N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’

Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.

N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her. 

Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’

Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’

‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’

N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.

Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . . 

He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’ 

N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.

Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’

N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’

‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’

Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.

His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.

‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’

N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.

Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’

N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ‘I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’

Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.

Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in. 

His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.

In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.

N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.

Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.

His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers. 

Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands. 

N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.

A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare. 

‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.

Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.

His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her. 

He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs. 

‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’

N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.

Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.

They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.

Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.

He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.

N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.

Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.

Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.

Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers. 

‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.

He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true. 

The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.

‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her. 

‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words. 

He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.

'Azriel, please. I want more.'

‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.

‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.

‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’

Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan. 

Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.

Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.

He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.

His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.

Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.

With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.

Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.

N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’ 

His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’

The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?

His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.

A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.

As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.

Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’

Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.

He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.

‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’

‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.

Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.

N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.

Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.

‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired. 

He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.

N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’ 

‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’

She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’

Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’

N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’

Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’

[mahikamihan]

I agree with you 100% about Foolish's relationship to risk and death. I think that he takes on a vital role as the pillar on the server. The others lean on him for help, be it building, providing resources or protection from mobs. Through learning his necessity to Tina in the cave after his first death, he realises this and takes on the heavy burden. While he was the initial chaos bringer, challenging the pillagers and pestering Tina, he is forced to become the level-headed and unmoving one. To ignore the pranks and the stealing- to guarantee the wellbeing of his friends.

Not only was it the death itself that sparked his change but, like you said, the extent to which Tina had to break the rules- going against her strict code that she had restated again and again. In this moment he sees past her strict server dictator facade, not as the nuisance of a neighbour or subject for teasing but as someone who needs him.

I think that this feeling of being needed is what keeps him going, kind of like how he's a 'good' pirate. More important than loot is his want to protect and provide, to please others and be looked up to.

-🦀

also thoughts on potential pyromaniac tina? Miyoungs menacing turn? Foolish's quickness to forgive Tina?

Sorry if this answers comes in late! I’ve dug myself down the stardew rabbithole and wasn’t checking my accounts as fast. More below!

Pyromaniac Tina: I think there’s a few funny lore potential to tinakiArson. XD I especially love that she started panickingly placing pumpkins when she realized what she had done to Foolish’s ship. It’s kind of like giving into the allure of fire— especially knowing now that she is playing part-demon of some kind. Nothing wrong with a little arson here and there, let a lil feminine rage out every now and then. And Tina especially, since she’s been through increasingly stressful situations recently— adding miyoung to the server, the unbalanced trade deals between foolish, miyoung and her, trying to meet her soul quota, etc. she has a lot on her plate! funny how she backtracks immediately though, like she only processes the guilt of her actions after the fact

Menacing Miyoung: menacing miyoung is always my favorite! idk why or how, but i feel like she always had that kind of mysterious mischievous aura around her. Like you can’t really tell what she’s planning to do next which makes her a surprising addition to foolish’s crew! She brings a little teeth to the adventures, spices things up alot! I like hoe even foolish gets pretty wary around her, so she stands as an equal crew member to him 💪🏼

Foolish’s forgiveness: I don’t think it was quick at all! He drove a pretty hard bargain, from taking a pet(?) → burning one of her own pets → burning her house -> having her burn someone else’s build, especially when he knows how hard builds could be. Character-wise, I’m interpreting it as like, “boiling the frog pot slowly” method of getting what he wants (if you get what i mean!). He thought through how he was gonna get his retribution, I’m just as surprised that Tina went through with it. I think for that, he was pretty fair in logic, and he got to see a lil fire up close XD so it was all good on his end, he was having a good time! poor tina though , she had to learn the consequences of her actions the hard way :') he really put her through the ringer when he knows how bad she is at making quick decisions

do you have any thoughts on the recent happenings personally, 🦀? I love the horse-breeding arc that miyoung, foolish and sam went through, so wholesome ^0^

[harmonyhealinghub]

The Thankful Thief Shaina Tranquilino November 23, 2024

The cold November wind bit at Andrew’s fingers as he skulked through the bustling streets, eyes darting between shadows and lampposts. Hunger clawed at his stomach, a gnawing ache that seemed to echo in the hollow of his ribs. It had been days since he’d eaten a decent meal, and longer since he’d felt anything resembling hope.

Tonight, he was desperate enough to try again. A target appeared—an elegant woman in a deep green coat, her auburn hair a halo under the glow of the streetlights. She walked alone, a purse hanging from her shoulder, oblivious to the night’s dangers. This would be quick, Andrew told himself. He wasn’t proud of it, but survival had stripped him of choices.

With nimble fingers honed by necessity, he slipped up behind her. His heart thumped erratically as he reached for the bag’s clasp. Just then, the woman turned, eyes locking onto his with startling clarity. She gasped, but there was no scream, no flight. Her eyes—hazel and warm—swept over his ragged clothes and gaunt face, reading the story in his silence.

“I don’t have anything worth stealing,” she said softly. Her voice wasn’t sharp with fear but steady, edged with a quiet knowing.

Andrew stood frozen, caught between shame and the instinct to flee. “I… I’m sorry,” he muttered, turning to dash away. Before he could, her hand reached out, gentle but firm.

“Wait,” she said. The word held him as if tethered by an invisible line. “Are you hungry?”

Confused, he glanced up, finding kindness where he had expected contempt. He nodded, too stunned to speak.

“Come with me,” she said, nodding to a café down the street. Despite the oddity of the moment, Andrew followed. His stomach made the decision for him.

The café was warm, filled with the rich scents of roasted coffee and freshly baked bread. The contrast to the street outside made Andrew feel even more out of place, but Stella guided him to a booth, ordering food before he could protest.

They sat in silence for a moment as the waitress brought steaming bowls of soup and thick slices of bread. Andrew stared at the food, disbelief warring with gratitude.

“Why?” he finally whispered, looking at Stella as she sipped her tea. She set the cup down with a soft clink.

“Because I’ve been where you are,” she said, a shadow crossing her face. “I was on the streets once, too. Someone helped me when I was at my lowest, and it changed everything. I’m just paying it forward.”

Andrew’s fingers trembled as he picked up the spoon, warmth spreading through him that had little to do with the meal. He ate slowly, each mouthful a mix of nourishment and unexpected hope.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, voice thick with emotion.

“Life is strange,” Stella said, her smile touching her eyes. “Sometimes, it’s the moments we least expect that teach us the most. Take this as a second chance.”

Andrew left that café with more than a full stomach; he left with a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Stella’s kindness had peeled back the armor life had forced him to wear, revealing the part of him that remembered how to dream.

Over the months that followed, Stella’s help turned into more than just one meal. She connected Andrew with a shelter, helped him find odd jobs, and encouraged him with each hesitant step he took back into society.

Years later, on a crisp fall evening not unlike the one when they’d first met, Andrew stood outside a small shop bearing the name The Thankful Table. The bakery was his, filled with fresh bread and pastries, its door open to anyone who needed a hand. Stella visited often, sharing stories and smiles, her eyes as kind as ever.

Andrew had been a thief once, but that night had changed everything. He learned that gratitude was more powerful than survival—it was transformative. And from then on, he lived not just to exist but to make sure others had the chance to do the same.