#LIKE i might change my theme just for that

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋ�� ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[aventurineswife]

hii there!! this is my first request ever— so sorry if its bad and u dont need to do if id you’re uncomfortable ofc :)) ive had to leave people whom i thought were good friends many times, or ive been abandoned by them and its happened again recently—

so may i ask that you write something with either aventurine or dan heng (u can pick one or both) seeing the reader in their room in the aftermath of having to leave another friend or group of friends? the scenario i have imagined is that the reader is also feeling alot worse than usual since they are starting to feel that they might be the problem. theyre crying about it in their room where the other hears them and comes to check the reader out of worry. the reader talks to them about it and the other comforts them and promises that they wont have to worry about having to leave or being abandoned by them.

so sorry if thats an odd, specific request 🥹🥹 i adore ur writing and i thought it would be cool to ask!! feel free to change anything as you see fit :)

“You Are Not the Storm”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reassurance, can be read as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness and self-doubt, Emotional distress and crying, Themes of abandonment and self-blame.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, anon 😕 i totally get where you're coming from, I had to leave a friend too because of personal reasons and this has happened to me throughout my life, so I totally understand you. I'll be your friend if you'd like. Hope you like this!

The room was quiet save for the muffled sound of sobs. The soft light of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks across the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed, head buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The hurt was raw, cutting deeper this time. The thought repeated in your mind like a cruel mantra: Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.

A quiet knock came at the door. You barely registered it, lost in your spiral. Then the door opened gently, and a familiar voice called your name.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Aventurine’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes were filled with worry. He leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to overwhelm you with his presence. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. That’s unlike you.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied, though your broken voice betrayed you.

Aventurine tilted his head, his hair catching the moonlight. “You don’t look fine, darling. And I don’t like hearing you cry.” He stepped into the room, crossing the space between you in a few strides before kneeling in front of you. He reached out, but his touch was tentative, giving you space.

You hesitated but eventually let the words spill out. “I had to leave again. Another friend, another group… It keeps happening. And I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I always the one who ends up alone?”

Your voice cracked, and tears welled up again. Aventurine reached out, this time cupping your hands in his gloved ones. His expression softened, his usual flamboyant charm replaced with a rare sincerity.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Listen to me. This—what you’re feeling—it’s not because you’re flawed. People come and go in life for a thousand reasons. Sometimes, it’s not about you at all. And sometimes… people just don’t see the brilliance that’s right in front of them.”

You shook your head, your doubts still gnawing at you. “But what if it is me? What if I’m too much? Or not enough?”

Aventurine gave a small, sad smile and squeezed your hands. “You’re enough. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve you in their life.” His eyes gleamed, his usual playful confidence creeping back in. “Besides, have you considered that maybe you’re just too fabulous for them to handle?”

Despite yourself, a faint chuckle escaped your lips, and Aventurine’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. Now,” he said, sitting beside you and throwing a casual arm over your shoulder, “let me make one thing clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn like that. You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You leaned against him, letting his warmth and words sink in. For the first time that night, the weight on your chest eased, just a little.

Dan Heng stood outside your room on the Astral Express. He’d been walking by when he heard the faint sound of crying. At first, he thought it best to give you space, but his worry won out. Quietly, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” you said, your voice weak.

Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. You sat curled up on your bed, clutching a blanket tightly.

“I heard you,” he said simply, standing a short distance away. “Are you… okay?”

You shook your head, and Dan Heng took a cautious step closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated before nodding, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’ve had to leave my friends again. I feel like I ruin everything. Like I’m the problem.”

Dan Heng was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture calm and unthreatening. “I don’t believe that. You care deeply about others—that much is clear to anyone who knows you. Losing people hurts, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

Tears streamed down your face. “But it keeps happening. How can it not be my fault?”

Dan Heng looked at you with quiet intensity. “Because sometimes, people grow apart. Or circumstances force things to change. It’s painful, but it’s not always within your control.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to carry all that blame alone. And you don’t have to worry about me leaving. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

His words settled over you like a soothing balm, and you felt yourself relax slightly. Dan Heng reached out, his hand hovering before gently resting it on yours. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m here.”

And you believed him.

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ THE ETERNAL OFFERING 𖤐. — nishimura riki

(๑>◡<๑) ৎ୭ nishimura riki + fem! reader immortal x immortal trope explicit suggestive content implied mature content 𐙚 warning mentions of reader being a sacrifice in the start religious themes god themes implied romantic relationship fighting . . !? & 10991 — navigation

note. i wanted to write something for riki and then the thought of him being a god came to my mind and that was how this was born... i might have gotten carried away though, whoops! i would like to say that im kinda proud of this so uh yeah. this is for you! @riekiss

The village had been bustling for days with preparations, each corner alive with whispered prayers and hushed conversations. The townsfolk moved with purpose, weaving wreaths of wildflowers, crafting intricate charms, and marking the paths leading out of the village with symbols meant to call for protection. For as long as you could remember, this ritual had been woven into the very fabric of your lives—a grim promise to the gods in exchange for your survival. 

The choice of the next offering was as natural as the changing of the seasons. From the moment you were old enough to understand, it had been gently yet unmistakably instilled in you that you were the one. The elders and your family had called it a blessing, stating how you are their savior and how you would be remembered for many years down the road. You, on the other hand, did not think much about it. 

Your village has gone through one natural disaster after another. At first, it was raining cats and dogs to the point that your rooftop collapsed, nearly crushing you and your parents who were taking shelter. Followed by the blight, stealing your precious food and water sources, leaving the villagers on the verge of starving to death. Anyone with eyes could tell everyone was reaching their limit and they had to do something, fast. And that was how you came in. 

As the sky turned a bruised shade of twilight, the leader of your village, accompanied by a few elders, arrived at your doorstep. Their expressions were somber but resolved. The leader, a man with deep-set wrinkles, nodded in acknowledgment as you opened the door. 

“We’re here to remind you, child,” he began, his voice soft but unwavering, “that tomorrow will mark the day-” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t run,” you interrupted, knowing the implications behind his words. Your response had an immediate effect on him, judging from how his shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded before leaving, allowing you to close the door. 

The night before the offering, your family gathered for what you knew would be your final meal together. None of your parents uttered a single word to you, both were frighteningly calm despite how their one and only daughter would be sent away and never returning. But you have grown used to their silent treatment. In your eyes, they were not your parents but instead, just a couple who had taken it upon themselves to ensure you grow up well enough to fit the role of a sacrifice. Nothing more and nothing less.

The next day, you were dressed in simple, white robes—an offering garb provided by the village elders. It felt surreal, as if you were watching someone else preparing for this cruel fate that was bestowed upon you; an unfortunate victim. You stepped out of your house, turning to see your parents standing by the entrance with unreadable expressions on their faces. As much as you wished to just turn and walk away, you could not. 

“...Thank you for everything,” you bowed and left without waiting for their response. Although, your ears picked up the faint sounds of muffled sobbing but you did not bother to turn around. 

You continued walking to the main entrance of the village, where the priest and a small group of elders waited. They said little as they guided you along a path toward the mountainside, where legend held that the gods sometimes descended to receive their offerings. Finally, you reached a quiet clearing surrounded by ancient trees, their trunks thick and twisted, casting shadows that seemed to deepen as the sun began to rise. 

The air felt thick, almost alive, as if the shadows themselves were watching, waiting. The priest performed a brief ritual, murmuring words that faded into the air. There was only silence when he finished, broken by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. 

The shadows in the trees seemed to grow darker, the light around us dimming until the forest was bathed in an unnatural twilight. The air stilled, a deep, suffocating silence settling over everyone. Then, a gust of icy wind swept through, sending chills down your spine. You felt a presence—a weight that pressed down on the space around you, as if the shadows themselves had taken form. Whispers seemed to drift through the darkness, soft and unsettling. Your heart hammered as you scanned the treeline, searching for any sign of movement.

And then, he appeared. 

Riki, the God of Shadows, emerged from the dark like a living specter. His figure seemed to dissolve into the surrounding shadows and then coalesce again, each step a silent ripple across the ground. He wore black robes that seemed to move on their own accord, the fabric shifting and swirling around him as though woven from darkness itself. His face was otherworldly—beautiful, yet cold, with eyes like polished obsidian. Those eyes settled on you, sharp and unyielding, his gaze as penetrating as a blade. 

Gasps and stifled cries echoed behind you as the villagers took in the sight of him. No one had ever seen the God of Shadows before. Legends spoke of him as a faceless presence, a mysterious deity who commands fear everywhere he goes. But here he was, standing in your midst, as real as the earth beneath your feet. His piercing gaze swept over the trembling villagers for a fleeting moment before settling on you, his eyes holding a strange, unreadable expression. 

Your body felt frozen, caught between terror and awe. As he approached, the shadows seemed to bow to him, the darkness shifting and folding around his every step. He stopped just a few centimeters away, studying you with an unreadable expression. His silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, as if he was measuring your every soul. 

“You must the offering,” he said, eyes fixated on you and for a brief moment, you wondered if he had the ability to look into your soul. 

You struggled to find your voice, but somehow, you managed to nod. "Yes… I am."

His expression softened ever so slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. “Do you understand what this means?”

His question hung in the air, but before you could speak, someone amongst the crowd of villagers had spoken up, interrupting the tense silence. 

The elder who had paid you a visit yesterday, stepped forward. “No,” he said, his voice trembling yet determined. “This is not right. You should not be here, Riki.” 

His words wavered, but he pressed on, his gaze fierce as he continued. “You are not a god. You are nothing but a shadow, a curse cast upon this world. You are not worthy to be a god.”

Murmurs of uncertainty rippled through the gathered villagers. Some looked on in silent awe at Riki, while others shrank back, afraid but unwilling to show it. Riki’s eyes shifted, his gaze cold and unwavering as he turned his attention to the elder, a sharp, disdainful sneer pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

"And what would you know of gods, old man?" Riki’s voice was like the quietest whisper, yet somehow it seemed to resonate over the crowd, filling the air with a foreboding chill. "I have existed longer than your ancestors have drawn breath. You speak of what you do not understand."

The elder, visibly shaking now, stubbornly held his ground, puffing himself up with a courage born of desperation. "You are not welcome here," he insisted, raising a hand as if he could ward off the god of shadows with a single gesture. "I command you to leave."

Before anyone could react, another elder, perhaps emboldened by his comrade’s words, lunged forward, a crude charm in hand. He thrust it toward Riki, chanting something incoherent, his voice trembling with conviction. But before he could close the distance, Riki merely lifted a hand, his expression unfazed and almost bored.

A dark shadow surged from Riki’s fingers, swift and effortless. The elder was caught mid-step, swept off his feet by an invisible force. The charm slipped from his fingers, falling uselessly to the ground as he was thrown back, landing in the dirt with a gasp of pain. The villagers gasped, horror dawning on their faces as they watched the elder struggle to sit up, visibly shaken.

"Any other brave souls?" Riki’s voice dripped with mocking amusement as he scanned the crowd, his sneer deepening. Shadows coiled around him, dark tendrils that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, amplifying the unsettling power radiating from him. No one dared to move. Whispers rippled through the villagers as they shrank back, clutching each other in fright, eyes wide as they took in the extent of his power.

You stood frozen, caught between terror and awe as you observed the scene unfold itself from head to toe. Riki turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction, his gaze still intense but tempered with something unreadable. 

“Now,” he murmured, his voice only for your ears. “Do you understand the gravity of the situation you are in? The moment you agree, you have to leave your old life behind and you will not return anymore.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words would not come. How could you even explain your choice? The pressure of so many watching eyes, the weight of your village’s expectations… In truth, you had not understood what it truly meant to be an offering until this very moment, standing before a god. 

Riki’s eyes flickered, as though picking up on your hesitation. His voice softened, though it held a strange kind of power. “You are not here by accident. You were chosen—whether by fate or by their desperation." He glanced at the huddled villagers, his gaze unreadable. "But what you offer is not mere obedience. To stay by my side is a choice that you, and only you, can make. Are you ready to accept that?"

As you looked at the villagers, you saw no sign of your parents. You remembered how the villagers had treated you and that was when you made up your mind: you will leave this life behind and start a new life, this time with Riki by your side. 

“I will accept that,” you said, your voice a whisper meant for him only, “but on one condition.” 

Riki arched an eyebrow. “And what would that condition be? Tell me, and I will make it come true.” 

“Let them die,” you said, voice unwavering. “Let the village fall. I am no longer tied to them. If I am to be your offering, then they deserve nothing from you. Not your protection, nor your mercy.” 

Riki’s expression shifted, a glimmer of surprise in his gaze, followed by an intrigue that darkened the depths of his eyes. He regarded you in silence, his lips curving into a faint smile that carried both admiration and something darker—a recognition of your resolve.

“You would see them perish?” he murmured, studying you with a newfound intensity. “The very same people who raised you, who sheltered you? You wish to abandon them to their fate?” 

You nodded, your voice growing steadier with every word. “They have abandoned me first. If they are so willing to sacrifice me to save themselves, then let them face the consequences of their choice. They should no longer be your concern… nor mine.” 

A flicker of satisfaction flashed in Riki's eyes, as if he found something in your words that pleased him. His shadows pulsed, swirling like a storm gathering in the depths of his power. He steps closer and closer, only stopping until you are within distance. You fought the urge to flinch when he reached out a hand to caress your cheek with such gentleness that you would have assumed you were lovers. To your surprise, his palm was not cold but instead, it was warm. Warm like a regular mortal’s palm. 

“Very well,” he said, his voice a low, velvety whisper that sent a chill down your spine. “Consider your condition accepted.” He paused, leaning close enough that you could feel the faint, icy touch of his power radiating from him. "You are bound to me now, and I will have no ties to this village. They will be left to face whatever comes without my hand to save them."

A strange sense of relief settled within you, a liberation that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You had severed the final thread that connected you to your past, embracing a future that lay in shadows you had yet to understand. The villagers watched in stunned silence, as if sensing the shift between you, but unable to grasp its meaning. Some tried to call out, murmuring half-hearted words of comfort or farewell, but you did not look back.

With a single gesture, Riki enveloped you in his shadows, his power sweeping over you in a cold, dark embrace. The village, with all its fears and demands, disappeared behind a curtain of darkness. You felt nothing as it vanished from sight—no regret, no sorrow.

~

The shadows dispersed, revealing a spacious bedroom unlike any place you have ever seen. A wall of ceiling-to-floor windows stretched along one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the ocean below, where waves rolled in dark blue and silver under a twilight sky. The horizon stretched endlessly, blending sea and sky in a seamless, misty line. 

The room had a refined yet faintly modern touch. The floor was a smooth, polished stone with a subtle shimmer, and a plush, oversized bed was positioned in the center, draped in soft black and charcoal fabrics. Subtle touches of luxury were scattered throughout—a glass vase on the nightstand with a single dark rose, polished wooden panels along the walls, and a sleek, minimal chandelier that hung above, casting a warm, muted glow over the space. The ceiling was high, while rich, heavy curtains hung beside the window panels, ready to enclose the room in complete privacy when drawn.

Through a set of glass doors, a balcony beckoned, offering an unobstructed view of the vast ocean below. The air was crisp, carrying a hint of salt and mystery, as if this place existed on the very edge of the world. You took a step forward, unable to hide your awe at the majestic space. Turning, you found Riki standing beside you, watching you intently. His gaze held an expectant glimmer, and you noticed him fidgeting slightly, shifting from foot to foot. 

He seemed almost…nervous, an unusual expression for someone who commanded such fear and awe from others. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that would affirm your approval. For a moment, he looked less like a god and more like a young boy eager for praise, his shoulders tensing, fingers brushing against each other absently. He glanced at the room, then back at you, a flicker of insecurity passing over his face. 

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying a faint, hopeful note. It was a huge contrast to his intimidating demeanor earlier, but it puts you at ease—knowing that he trusts you enough to show another side of him. 

You took a slow breath, allowing a small smile to creep onto your face as you met his gaze. “I think you did a wonderful job.” 

Your praise seemed to have an immediate effect on him. His expression softened, relief and a hint of satisfaction crossing his face. The shadows around him settled down, as though your approval had brought him a sense of calm. But curiosity still tugged at you, and you could not hold back the question forming in your mind. 

“But why would you do all of this for someone like me?” You asked, voice almost a whisper. “I’m just…a mortal.” 

For a moment, the god seemed almost taken aback. Then, a faint smile touched his lips, and his gaze softened, a shadow of something like nostalgia flickered in his eyes. He approached you, closing the distance with every step he took. The shadows around him grew smaller and smaller, until it was only his silhouette being reflected on the floor, making him more humane. He stopped in front of you, maintaining a small distance but he was close enough to make your heart stop beating for a moment. 

“You think you’re just a mortal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion you could not quite place. His eyes caught the dim light, almost glowing as he continued. “But I have watched you long before you ever knew of my existence. From the moment you were born, I’ve been there… drawn to you in ways I couldn’t explain.” 

You looked at him, startled, and he gave a small, almost bashful smile, as if he, the God of Shadows, was admitting a secret. 

“Every year, I would watch you grow, seeing glimpses of your life,” he continued. “Your kindness, your loyalty… even your pain. I’ve seen it all.” His voice softened as he looked down for a brief moment, as if remembering the countless moments he had witnessed.

“And as you grew,” he went on, “I couldn’t help but feel… connected to you. Bound by something more powerful than time or distance.” He lifted his gaze, and in that moment, his eyes held a warmth that seemed to pierce through the very shadows surrounding him.

"Perhaps that’s why I’ve prepared all this for you,” he finished, his tone barely above a whisper. "You may think you’re merely human, but to me… you have always been someone significant. Someone worth waiting for."

You were speechless as you listened to him. If he was not a god, you would have assumed he was a regular human being, just a simple boy who had finally plucked up his courage to confess. But the mere fact that he was a god, someone who deserves respect and someone who can destroy anything and everything standing in his path, is spilling his heart out to you: a mortal, does wonders to your heart. 

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you stuttered over your word and Riki chuckled, finding great amusement in your embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to say anything. The last thing I want is to pressure you to make the wrong choice,” the smile he gave you does not meet his eyes and for a moment, you felt remorseful for your response but he continued. “How about I give you a tour of the apartment? I’m sure you'll find it to be a lovely and comfortable place to stay in.” 

The entire apartment was enveloped in a faintly modern elegance that mirrored the bedroom’s luxurious yet mysterious design, with muted tones, shadowy corners, and fine details that hinted at his taste. It was grand yet inviting, a place built to impress without overwhelming.

You walked beside him as he led you out of the bedroom. Both of you had to walk a short distance to the flight of curved stairs. You almost slipped and would have ungracefully tumbled down the stairs if Riki did not steadied you in the nick of time. You felt your ears flushed red when you felt his large hands rested on the sides of your waist, his fingers nearly touching. Your back rested against his chest, upper body slightly tilted backward. 

“You should be more careful, unless you want me to carry you around to prevent you from slipping,” he teased, his hot breath grazing against the back of your neck with every word he spoke. The angle was awkward, considering how he was standing a few steps behind you, making him tower over your figure. 

“No thank you, I don’t want to be a bother,” you apologized, straightening yourself as you moved away and continued your descent down the stairs until you reached the first floor. 

The living room was stunning. Expansive floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the far wall, allowing the view of the dark ocean to blend with the room itself. The ocean shimmered faintly under the evening sky, casting a soft, silver glow over the space. A set of deep charcoal couches framed the room, their plush cushions adorned with silken pillows in shades of obsidian and slate. The furniture was both elegant and comfortable, almost inviting you to sink into its embrace.

In the center of the room was a sleek, low glass coffee table, artfully arranged with a few ornate candles and a bowl filled with obsidian stones. Nearby, a minimalist fireplace embedded within the wall flickered with a cold, bluish flame, casting an ethereal glow that filled the room with a soft warmth.

Bookshelves lined one side of the living room, filled with volumes bound in leather and delicate metalwork. A series of framed, abstract paintings in muted grays and blues adorned the walls, blending seamlessly with the room’s monochromatic theme. Elegant, unobtrusive lighting was scattered strategically across the ceiling, casting a soft, almost magical glow that danced along the floor and highlighted the darker elements of the decoration. 

Riki glanced over his shoulder as you took it all in, his eyes glimmering with a quiet, almost bashful pride. He waited for you to take in the details, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as though he was searching your face for any sign of approval or delight.

He gestured subtly to the window, where the balcony beyond opened to the endless expanse of ocean and sky. “This is your view,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, “as long as you’re here.”

You stepped forward, getting closer to the opened row of windows as you rested your hands on the railings. You took in the jaw-dropping view with awe and amazement written all over your face. Riki stood by your left but you were too entranced by the view to even notice that he was admiring your expression, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Why do you make it sound like I have a choice in the first place? I came here on my free will,” you replied in a light-hearted manner, although that was not the implication Riki got. Instead, he looked rather guilty for a moment before he composed himself. 

“Do you regret coming here?” He murmured, sounding almost afraid the moment the words left his lips. 

You turned to him. “No, I don’t,” you paused, forming your jumbled thoughts into proper sentences. The god was surprised at how easily you answered his question as you continued, “I don’t feel any connection to the people there. To them, I was nothing but merely a disposable pawn, nothing more and nothing less. That’s why I chose to leave my old life behind and start a new life from scratch.” 

Riki hums in acknowledgement. “You might not believe me, but I think that’s very brave of you to forgo your past.” 

“What’s this? I didn’t expect to hear a god praising a human being,” you teased. Your remark was enough to make him exasperatedly roll his eyes, “but thank you, Riki. That means a lot coming from someone like you,” you continued, your voice filled with sincerity as you thanked him. 

He smiled and with the way a gentle gust of wind blew past, causing his hair to fly about combined with the setting sunlight hitting his face in just the right angle, made your breath hitch in your throat. You were momentarily caught off-guard with how attractive he looked, especially with how he had bangs partially shielding his left eye. Realizing you were staring at him in prolonged silence, you awkwardly cleared your throat and tore your eyes away from him. 

“W-Well, I think it’ll be best for me to uh, take a shower,” you squeaked out, dashing back into the living room without waiting for his response, leaving the amused god behind. 

~

You spent the next few weeks familiarizing yourself with the apartment, exploring every inch to your heart’s content. Your relationship with Riki was unknown. It was neither romantic or platonic, at least that was what you think. He treats you well and you are living a comfortable and luxurious life, thanks to his status. Being a god has many advantages, and one of them means whatever you wish for, it will appear before your face. All the god had to do was to snap his fingers and be it clothes, food or accessories, it will appear out of thin air. 

You knew his title but yet, you could not help but be curious of his other abilities, other than the ones you have seen and heard of, bringing you to your current situation. You were laying on the sofa in the living room, your head resting on the armrest with your right leg propped up as you rested your left leg over your right knee. You were engrossed in reading a book to the point that you were oblivious that Riki had made his appearance. 

“What are you reading?” 

You visibly flinched, dropping the book and yelped when it landed squarely on your nose. Groaning, you removed the book to see the culprit responsible for scaring you appearing in your sight. He stood near the armrest of the sofa, looking down at you, amused with your reaction. You shot him a glare as you pushed yourself up, placing your bookmark between the two pages you last stopped at. 

“Don’t do that again or I might die due to a heart attack,” you scowled, lightly smacking his shoulder. 

“That won’t happen, and even if it did, I can merely make it start again,” he shrugged his shoulders. Riki sat on the armrest with one knee resting on the edge. He leans over slightly to get a glimpse of the book cover, only for him to quirk an eyebrow when he recognized the title. 

“I didn’t know you’re a romantic at heart,” he commented, silently patting his lap. 

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your position so you could rest your head on his lap, as per his request. He preens at your obedience, running his hand through your hair and your eyelids fluttered close at his touch. 

“Where were you?” You asked, eyes glancing up to him. You closed your eyes when he poked your forehead. 

“I was busy with something, nothing you have to worry about,” he casually replied but you were not pleased with his vague response. 

“Tell me, unless you’re hiding something from me,” you accused, narrowing your eyes as you pushed yourself up, turning to face him. He dropped his hand, resting it on his clothed knee and stared at you, the corners of his lips threatening to curl upwards. 

You frowned, “Did you went out there killing—” 

You were cut off mid-sentence when Riki cupped your face, tilting it up for him to slot your lips together. This was not the first time he had kissed you to silence you and it always works. His lips pressed against yours, firm yet tender and you felt your heart leap in response. The kiss was unhurried, as if he were savoring each moment, each breath. When he finally pulled away, his eyes held a mischievous glint, an unspoken answer lingering in his gaze. 

“Some questions,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing as he drew circles on your cheek, “are better left for another time.” 

You blinked up at him, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in your chest. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, the beginnings of a protest forming on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak. But Riki’s expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Before you could utter a word, he leaned in again, silencing your unspoken question with another kiss; more intense than the previous kiss. His arms traveled down to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, warm and coaxing, unraveling any resistance you might have. 

You could feel your body going pliant in his grip. You rested your hands on his shoulders; a habit you had gained as you parted your lips upon feeling him asking for permission. A breathy whine was ripped from the depths of your throat when his tongue explored your cavern with one, thorough lick. You grabbed a fistful of his abyssal-like hair, roughly tugging it when he teasingly bit down on your lip. Your action elicited a pleased sigh that you eagerly swallowed. 

His fingers threaded through your hair, anchoring you as his touch grew a shade more intense, deeper, making your heart race. Riki slid his hand underneath the shirt you wore—his shirt, to be exact, teasingly moving upwards on your spine. His touch leaves goosebumps in its wake and you shudder; the movement making him smile into the kiss. When he finally pulled away, his previously styled hair was now messed up, with some strands stretching out at different angles. His lips curved into a soft, satisfied smile, his gaze holding yours with a silent promise. 

“Trust me,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your swollen bottom lip. “The answers will come in time. But not today.” 

You huffed, moving your hands down to grab him by the front of his shirt and tugged him forward. Your sudden action caught him off-guard. Riki’s eyes widened momentarily, his hands tightening around your waist. You shot him a teasing grin, looking at him with half-lidded eyes as you leaned in until your lips were brushing against one another. 

“If that’s the case, then how about we picked up where we left off?” You cooed, taking note of how the god’s eyes darkened. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” he chuckled, easily carrying you in his arms in one fluid movement. Squeaking, you clung onto him for dear life as he led you to where the bedroom was, “but fine by me, I guess it’s my responsibility to indulge in you once in a while.” 

~

You woke up, feeling much refreshed than usual. The thought of the reason made your cheeks flushed red as you squirmed about on the comfortable bed. Your ears picked up the rustling of sheets from behind, only for you to be pulled backward. Your back hit a firm chest and you made no point to turn, not when you knew who it was. Shivers ran down your spine when you felt butterfly kisses planted on the back of your neck. 

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Riki asked, his voice raspy. You remained silent, eyes closed as you pretended you were still sleeping. Although, both of you knew that he could see through your facade. The only form of warning you got was the curl of his lips against your skin before he launched his attack.

“Riki—wait—no!” You managed to squeak out before laughter overtook you. 

His fingers moved with relentless intent, tickling you mercilessly. You twisted and turned, trying desperately to escape, but his grip on your waist only tightened, holding you in place. 

“Stop! I—can’t—breathe!” You choked out between fits of laughter, swatting at his hands in a futile attempt to fend him off.

His face lit up with a playful grin, a rare boyishness breaking through his usually composed demeanor. “Stop?” he teased, voice lit with mock innocence. “But you look like you’re having fun.” 

You glared at him through your laughter, breathless and utterly helpless. Your attempts to wiggle free only seemed to amuse him further, his hold steady as if he were effortlessly taming the chaos he had created. 

“Riki, I mean it!” You said through gasps, your voice shaking with laughter as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “You’re going to—ah—pay for this!”

“Oh?” He smirked, pausing for just a second, his hands still resting on your waist. “And how exactly do you plan to make me pay?” His playful tone and raised brow made it clear he was not the least bit threatened by your empty threat.

You seized the brief moment of reprieve to catch your breath, your heart racing from both the tickling and the laughter. “I—I'll figure it out!” You shot back, squirming away the moment he paused, wanting to create as much distance as you could. 

“Good luck with that,” he quipped, deciding to show some mercy. 

Riki remained where he was, now sitting up on the bed with the crumpled sheets covering his lap as he observed you getting out of bed. He could not help but snicker when he saw how your legs trembled slightly and how you had to hold onto the nearest surface for support. You shot him a death glare but the god was unfazed. Instead, he sends you an infuriating smirk that makes you have the urge to wipe it off his face. 

“Need any help?” He asks, resting his chin on his left fist. 

“No thank you, I can handle this by myself,” you retorted, limping your way to the bathroom and pointedly closed the door, shutting out his laughter. 

~

When you finished getting dressed, you went to the living room and were greeted by a familiar face who was engaged in what seemed to be a serious conversation with Riki, judging from the solemn expressions on their faces. You moved to the kitchen, wanting to pour yourself a glass of water when your appearance caught their attention. 

“Good morning (Name), did you sleep well?” Jay greeted you, giving you a polite and friendly smile as he waved at you from where he sat. 

You returned the smile and wave, “Good morning Jay, and yes I did, thank you. What brings you here? It’s rare to see you dropping by,” you asked after greeting him, entering the living room after pouring two glasses of water; one for yourself and one for him. 

Jay accepted the glass with a grateful nod of his head while Riki scoffs. “You didn’t have to do that for him,” he said in a sulky tone, pulling you down so you could sit on his lap, his hand resting on your thigh. 

Jay blinks at the sight of the two of you before looking at Riki, who took it upon himself to rest his chin on your shoulder before answering you. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, just the regular stuff about our responsibilities.” He downs the water in one go, leaving the now empty glass on the coffee table and rises to his feet. 

“I should get going, I wouldn't want to disrupt your time together,” he said, making your ears turn red.

“You weren’t disrupting,” you protested, but the grip on your thigh tightened at your response. Jay merely smiled, biding the both of you farewell before he left without you seeing him out. 

“Now that he’s gone, how about we head out today? I think the weather’s perfect,” Riki asked, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he greedily inhaled your scent. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, leaning back against him. 

“We can descend to the mortal realm and visit a town if you’re keen. I heard there’s a festival happening today,” he proposed. 

Hearing this, you instantly turned and your face lit up with excitement at the mention of the festival. “Then what are we waiting for? We should get going.” 

You jumped off his lap, rushing up the stairs to the bedroom to get changed. Riki remained where he was, leaning back with his hands resting on the sofa behind him. He observed your retreating figure with a soft smile on his face, endeared with your behavior. It did not take you long to get dressed, choosing comfort over style and when you were done, you went back down to the living room. The god had changed out of his usual clothes, now cladded in black from head to toe. What piqued your interest however, was a pair of thinly-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. 

It was unfair how Riki looks even better when all he did was to wear glasses. He smirks when he sees how you were staring at him, mesmerized by the sight. “As much as I’d like for you to keep looking at me, I think we should go before we’re too late.” 

His response brought heat to your cheeks, flustered that you were caught red-handed. You held his outstretched hand as he used his ability to bring you to the town where the festival is taking place. Despite having experienced it a few times, you were still not used to the feeling. It was strange, for it feels like all of your senses were ripped away from you, only for them to abruptly return to you when you arrived at your destination. 

The shadows dissipate, revealing a lively town with people everywhere. You took in your surroundings with awe, watching as some stopped to look at the store displays that were set up along a straight path. Overwhelmed with excitement, you wasted no time in dragging Riki along to visit one of the nearest stalls. You stopped by the front and were instantly hit with the fragrance of skewers being roasted by the side. Your mouth waters and you point at the row of sticks.

“Hi, I’d like to get two please,” you requested, and the owner nodded, turning two sticks back and forth before handing it to you. Thanking him, you paid the appropriate money and handed one stick to Riki. 

“Here, you should try it,” you said, pushing the stick closer to his face. The god scrunches his nose as he warily eyes the food. He ended up leaning forward to take a small nibble and you observed his reaction. You observed how he slowly chewed, eyebrows furrowed with a thoughtful look on his face that was eventually replaced with genuine surprise. The sight of his expressions changing made you laugh. You playfully elbowed him as he took the stick from your grip. 

“It’s good, right?” You asked and he nodded, now taking a huge bite out of it. 

“Yes, it’s better than I imagined. You seem awfully excited about coming here. Have you never been to a festival before?” He quirked an eyebrow, gently pulling you along so the both of you could venture down the streets to explore the other stalls. 

You shook your head with a sad smile, “No, this is my first time. Ever since I was born and the moment I was told I would be used as an offering, my parents forbid me from stepping out of the house. I was practically locked up and they had stolen my freedom.” 

Riki hums, running his thumb along your knuckles. “On the bright side, you have your well-deserved freedom now. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?” 

You laughed, squeezing his hand and you felt him return the gesture in a heartbeat. “Yes, I’m as free as a bird now and it’s all thanks to you.” 

The next stall that caught your attention was a stall selling charms. Intrigued, you stopped to admire the displays and it seems like the owner was busy with another customer. Riki stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you purse your lips, pondering on which design to choose. You leaned back to rest your back against his chest, turning your head slightly towards him. 

“Do you see any you like?” You asked. He was about to reply when a horrified gasp interrupted your conversation. You faced the front, surprised to see the owner; an elderly woman pointing a bony finger at Riki. 

Her lips parted in a gasp of pure horror. “It can’t be…” she whispered, her voice quaking with a mix of fear and disbelief. Her frail frame seemed to shrink further as she pointed a bony finger at Riki, her eyes wide and wild. “The God of Shadows,” she breathed.

Your confusion deepened as you turned to Riki, only to find his expression eerily calm, though a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The tension in the air was palpable, as though the shadows around you had grown heavier, darker. The woman’s voice rose in a shaky accusation. “You… you cursed her!” she cried, her words dripping with terror and despair. “That poor girl—she has no idea what you’ve done, does she? How her soul is bound to your darkness!”

You blinked, startled and utterly lost. “What is she talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked between her and Riki.

But Riki only sneered, the amused glint in his eyes contrasting starkly with the woman’s trembling outrage. “Old habits die hard,” he said lazily, his tone dripping with indifference. “You always were good at spinning tales to scare the gullible.”

The elder woman’s hand shook as she clutched the talisman tighter, her gaze never leaving Riki’s. “This is no tale,” she hissed. “You’ve marked her, haven’t you? She’s yours now, whether she knows it or not.”

Riki’s smirk only widened as he turned his full attention to the elder woman, his shadowy aura growing thicker, almost tangible. “Marked her?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Why don’t I show you just how marked she is?”

Before you could react, Riki leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek. The gesture was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt of shock through you—and absolute terror through the stall owner. A blood-curdling scream erupted from her lips, her eyes widening as though she had witnessed the world itself shattering. “No! Stay away from her, you vile creature!” she screeched, her voice cracking with panic.

Her trembling hands fumbled for something on her stall, and in a blur of desperation, she grabbed the nearest item—a ceremonial dagger. Its blade glinted in the dim light, etched with ancient symbols that seemed to hum with power. With surprising speed for someone her age, she lunged at Riki, her face twisted with both fear and determination. “You won’t take her, demon!” she cried as she swung the dagger.

Riki stepped back with effortless grace, but not fast enough. The blade grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow, crimson line in its wake. A single drop of blood trailed down his face, stark against his skin. The crowd around you gasped, a ripple of shock spreading as the tension escalated. But Riki did not flinch. If anything, the sight of the dagger and the sting of the cut only seemed to amuse him further. Your eyes widened at the sight of the crimson liquid. You quickly moved, hands reaching out to cup his face and your left thumb gingerly wiped the blood away, leaving a smudge behind. 

“Are you alright?” You murmured, only focused on the god standing before you, despite how you were in the center of everyone’s attention and how they were observing your every movement. Your sudden action caused whispers and murmurs amongst the growing audience but you turned a blind eye to them. None of them were worth your attention. Not when Riki is in front of you. 

He leaned into your touch, like a touch-starved cat and nodded, “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’ll heal within seconds.”

The elder woman’s expression twisted in disbelief and fury. “You… You’ve bewitched her!” she spat, pointing the dagger toward him again. “Get out of here, the both of you. I don’t want my business to be ruined.” 

Riki smirks, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you gently yet possessively toward him. “If that’s what you wish. Good luck with your business,” he raised a hand as he directed you away from the stall, raising a hand to bid the fuming woman farewell. It was only when you were out of sight then you questioned him. 

“What was that about?” You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“I think she was a shaman and she must’ve seen through my disguise,” he sneers, eyes facing forward as he makes a turn to the left, leading you further away from the crowded street. The people around you were oblivious to the fact that a God was walking amongst them. All of them were too busy minding their respective lives. 

“Perhaps I should’ve killed her,” he continues, sounding almost as if he was deep in thought. 

You raised an eyebrow at his sentence. “And how would you do that?” 

“I have my ways and besides, I’m not the God of Shadows for nothing,” he shrugged his shoulders. “But never mind that, do you still want to continue or are you feeling tired already?” 

You sighed, “Let’s go home. My feet are starting to hurt from all the walking we did.” 

“Of course.” 

~ 

A few weeks passed but the encounter with the elderly woman has never left your mind. You could not focus on any of your tasks, be it as something simple as reading a book or making yourself a snack to eat. Riki was the same as always, showing no signs of indifference. A part of you wanted to ask him for answers but another part of you knew what his response would be. He will avoid your questions like the plague and provide vague answers, choosing to beat around the bush instead of getting to the point. 

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the night outside, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window. Riki stood close, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you whispered, barely managing to find your voice as your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, stepping closer, his hand now tracing a feather-light path along your jawline. “Spoiler alert: you never will.”

“Riki…” You let out a pleased sigh when your lips brushed against one another, eyelids fluttering close. 

Your arms loosely wrapped themselves around his neck, using it as an anchor to ground yourself as your body grew limp in his hold. The god smiles into the kiss, taking his sweet time in tasting you. The pace heavily depends on his mood. It could be sloppy and messy and sometimes, it could be gentle and delicate, as if you were a piece of fragile glass that could shatter anytime. You whined when he nipped your bottom lip, making you tug his hair as a form of warning. He apologized by running his tongue along the seams of your lips before pulling away, chuckling at the sound of protest you made. 

This time, you were the one to close the distance and he allows it, allowing you to be greedy. Riki’s hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, while his other hand snaked its way underneath your shirt, running his hand up your spine, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss grew desperate and you sensed it before it actually happened. The temperature in the room changed and you were being pushed back onto the bed with Riki now hovering over you, who has not pulled away the entire time. 

You melted into him, arching your back off the bed to press yourself against him, wanting to feel his body. Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt as he forcefully parted your lips with his tongue. Muffled sounds akin to whimpers and mewls dripped from your lips. The taste of him was downright intoxicating and ever since he touched you, you were beyond addicted to his touch. Perhaps it was due to how touch-starved you were that made you drunk on Riki, where all you could think about was him and only him. 

He kissed like he fought—with precision, passion, and the undeniable intent to leave you utterly breathless. His lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You drive me insane, you know that?” he whispered against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick your neck. 

“Good,” you managed to tease, your own breath hitching as you tilted your head back, granting him more access to your unblemished skin. You felt him mouthing the area just below your jawline, not low enough for the collars of your shirts to conceal it but not high enough for you to easily hide it either. 

You bite down on your lips, suppressing the whine when you feel Riki sucks on your skin. The sensation was nearly enough to make your eyes roll up. Your grip on his shirt tightened when you felt him moving to another area to leave another hickey. 

“R-Riki, what are you—” You asked, only to let out a pathetic mewl when he teasingly bit down on your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to elicit a reaction out of you. 

“Sorry darling,” he chuckles, his hot breath grazing against your skin. The god pulls away to admire his handiwork, taking note of the marks he left behind; a firm and visible reminder that you belong to him. 

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, lips curling down in a pout. Riki’s eyes softened at the sight. He leans in to kiss you on the lips and you gasped when you felt him pushing your shirt upwards, revealing more of your skin to him. 

“Sounds like you don’t accept my apology. Perhaps I can show it in another way instead,” he grins and you could only gulp, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming torture from him. 

~

You took a deep breath, inhaling the salty scent of the ocean and the fresh air. You squint your eyes when a strong gust of breeze blows past, only to yelp when your hat is blown away. A hand shot out, appearing in your sight and managed to grab the hat before it was gone. The figure moved to stand before you and he placed the hat on your head. 

“You should be more careful. What if you get blown away next?” Riki teased. 

“If that happens, you better catch me,” you retorted, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. You laughed at how he chased after your lips when you pulled away. 

“You know, as cute as the two of you are, I’ve been standing here for a solid five minutes and I’m starting to think I’ve turned invisible.” 

You turned to your left and saw Heeseung standing a few feet away. He was dressed in casual clothes; a plain black undershirt with a denim jacket over it and a pair of pants. No one would be able to tell he was the God of War. Smiling, you waved at the approaching figure as you moved away from Riki. 

“Heeseung, what brings you here?” You greeted him once he was closer and gave him a hug, to which he returned the gesture before pulling away. 

“I’m here for Riki actually. I need to talk to him about something,” the other replied, eyes glancing in his direction. 

You looked between the two and nodded in understanding. “I see, well I guess I shouldn’t be listening then.” You were about to walk away but Riki stopped you by grabbing your wrist. Heeseung raised an eyebrow at that, bemused. 

“No, you can stay. I have a feeling what he wants to say concerns you,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at Heeseung who sighed, nodding in agreement. At this point, you were confused but you obliged, remaining where you were and waiting for him to speak. 

His expression turned grim. "I've been hearing whispers," he said, his gaze flickering between you and Riki. "There are minor gods—restless, envious ones—who’ve taken notice of her. They’ve been talking about her purity, how untouched her soul is. And the fact that you," Heeseung looked directly at Riki, "turned her immortal only makes her more desirable to them. To them, she’s an anomaly. Something extraordinary. They’re determined to get their hands on her, no matter what it takes."

Your breath caught, and you glanced at Riki, feeling the tension rising instantly. His jaw clenched, shadows pooling around him like living creatures as his anger began to take form. His eyes darkened with an unspoken fury. This was the first time you had seen him getting angry. But when he spoke, his voice carried a chilling confidence.

“Let them come,” Riki sneered, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll show them what happens when they try to take what’s mine.”

The air seemed to darken around him, his shadows weaving and coiling as if responding to his anger. Though his expression was sharp and his tone dismissive, there was a feral edge to his presence that made you shiver. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by Riki's display, though there was a trace of amusement in his knowing gaze.

“Just don’t underestimate them,” Heeseung warned, leaning forward. “You might be strong, but so are they. And they won’t play fair.”

Riki’s smirk widened, his anger simmering just below the surface. “They’re welcome to try. I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake they ever make.”

Heeseung took his leave after that and the tension vanished once he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Well, I guess the mood’s ruined now. What are you planning to do?” You turned to him. 

“I could find them first and kill them but I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“But I won’t be alone, I can stay over at either Jay’s or Heeseung’s—” 

“Do not say another man’s name, not after we’ve had sex,” he deadpanned, scrunching his nose as if it was too painful for him to say that. 

You rolled your eyes, amused with the way he starts sulking like a little kid, “Are you jealous?” 

“No,” he instantly replied, which sounded way too suspicious, “why would I be jealous of them? It’s not like they’re better than me. I’m better than them.”

You eyed him in silence until Riki sighed, “Well, I don’t think there’s anything you need to worry about in the first place. I’m perfectly capable of handling them myself.” 

“I didn’t say anything though?” You innocently blinked your eyes. The god was unamused with your facade. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Technically, you can’t die so.”

“...”

~

The next few days passed in tense silence. Riki was unusually quiet, only answering you with either a nod or a hum. He was on constant high alert, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings as he stood close to you, shoulders tensed. As much as you appreciate him looking out for you, it was starting to get to you. You no longer had the freedom to wander around on your own. He insisted on you informing him about your whereabouts and to always update him if you were moving to another location. 

Whether it was a stroll along the beach or simply sitting at the backyard, his shadow never left yours. His gaze followed every movement, his steps always just a fraction behind yours. At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it was his way of ensuring your safety. But as the days passed, the constant presence began to gnaw at you. It reminded you of your life in the village—how your freedom had been stripped away the moment they decided to send you as an offering. You were tired of feeling like a fragile thing to be protected, like a prisoner wrapped in silken chains.

Today was your final straw. 

You whirled around abruptly, cutting Riki off mid-step as he trailed behind you. The frustration you had been bottling up finally spilled over. 

“Why do you keep following me?” you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. “Everywhere I go, you’re there, watching, hovering like I’m some hopeless child. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m being watched!” 

Riki blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden outburst. His usual calm demeanor flickered, and for a moment, there was a flash of something deeper in his dark eyes—something like worry, or maybe guilt. But then, just as quickly, he composed himself, his expression hardening.

“I’m doing it to keep you safe,” he said evenly, though there was a quiet intensity in his tone. “The minor gods… they’re always watching. If I’m not around, they’ll try to get to you.”

You clenched your fists, frustration boiling over. “Do you really think I’m that weak? That I can’t take care of myself? I’m not some fragile thing, Riki. I don’t need you—or anyone—constantly looking over my shoulder!”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, there was a hint of anger in his voice when he responded. “You don’t understand,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes darkening like the very shadows he commanded. “They want you. Not for who you are, but for what you represent. And I refuse to let them have you.”

You went silent, watching him and the god took this to continue by taking a step closer. “I’m not trying to take your freedom. I just don’t want to lose you. Please, trust me.” 

The vulnerability in his voice made something in you ache and you could not find it in yourself to be mad at him. Not when he had given you a new life from scratch. Not when he had treated you as an equal. You took a shaky breath, your anger softening but not entirely gone. “Fine,” you whispered. “Protect me if you must, but just don’t cage me.” 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The wind whispered through the trees, and the shadows danced around you, swirling in the space between frustration and understanding. Finally, Riki let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“I’ll try,” he said, and though his voice was quiet, it carried the weight of a promise. “But don’t expect me to stop caring.”

~ 

A few days had passed since your confrontation with Riki, and the uneasy truce you had reached left the air heavy with unspoken tension. He had kept his distance—mostly—but you still felt his presence lingering in the shadows, watching from afar. You told yourself you were relieved to have a bit of space, but deep down, the quiet was unsettling.

That morning, the world felt different.

You woke abruptly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The apartment was eerily silent, the usual creaks and hums replaced by a stillness that felt unnatural. You sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as a chill ran through you. Something was not right. And then, you heard it. A soft, almost inaudible whisper, like the sound of wind through dead leaves. It was not coming from outside. It was inside. 

Your pulse quickened as you climbed out of bed, your bare feet touching the cold floor. The air felt heavy, suffused with a strange, oppressive energy. Shadows pooled unnaturally in the corners of the room, shifting like they were alive. You took a cautious step toward the doorway, and that was when you saw them. 

Figures, barely human in form, their bodies twisted and dark, like shadows given flesh. Their eyes glowed faintly—dull, malevolent orbs that locked onto you with predatory intent. The minor gods. Your breath hitched, and panic surged through your veins. They should not be here. You were supposed to be safe. Riki’s presence had always kept them at bay. But now, without him near, they had come.

“Stay back,” you warned, though your voice trembled. You grabbed the nearest thing—a lamp—clutching it like a lifeline.

One of the figures stepped forward, its voice a hollow echo. “You thought you could escape us?” it hissed, its tone dripping with malice. “The God of Shadows is not here to protect you now.”

Your heart pounded. You backed away slowly, trying to think, trying to find a way out. “I don’t belong to any of you,” you spat, though fear laced your words.

They laughed, the sound a chorus of hollow, empty echoes. “You don’t understand,” another one sneered. “You are more valuable than you know. And now… you’re ours.”

Before you could react, a shadow darted toward you, too fast to dodge. But just as the figure reached out, the room plunged into deeper darkness—a suffocating, cold void that swallowed the light whole. A familiar voice, low and deadly, echoed through the darkness. 

“No, she’s not.” 

Riki. 

The shadows writhed and recoiled as he stepped forward, his form emerging from the darkness like a force of nature. His eyes glowed with an eerie gray light, his expression cold and furious. 

“You’ve made a mistake coming here,” he said, his voice dripping with quiet menace. “And you won’t leave this place alive.” 

With a wave of his hand, the shadows around him surged forward, crashing into the minor gods like a tidal wave. They shrieked in fury and pain, their forms twisting and disintegrating as Riki’s power overwhelmed them. The air grew heavier, darker, as if the shadow themselves were suffocating the light. You stood behind Riki, your heart racing, thinking it was over. The silence that followed their destruction was short-lived. More gods appeared out of nowhere, spawning one after another.

They seeped from the walls, the floor, anywhere that creates a shadow. Minor gods, their twisted forms multiplying, each one more grotesque and menacing than the last. Their eyes glowed with hunger, and their whispers filled the room like a sinister chant. 

“You thought you could protect her?” One sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re just one god, Riki. You can’t fight us all.” 

Riki did not flinch. The glow in his eyes intensified as he stepped forward. The air around him shimmered with power, the darkness bending to his will. “I’ve defeated worse,” he said, voice cold and unyielding. “And I’ll destroy all of you, no matter what.” 

With a sharp gesture, he unleashed a torrent of shadows that moved like a tidal wave, slamming into the advancing gods. They howled as the darkness consumed them, but for every one that fell, another took its place. The battle raged on. The apartment became a battleground, walls cracking under the strain of divine power. Riki moved like a dancer in the dark, graceful yet brutal, every strike precise and devastating. He was relentless, his power unfurling like an endless abyss, swallowing the minor gods whole. But they kept coming, wave after wave, their determination growing more desperate.

“Riki,” you called, panic seeping into your voice as you saw the strain beginning to show. His breath was ragged, sweat glistening on his brow, though his eyes never lost their fire. 

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, though his voice wavered slightly. “Stay close to me.” 

But you could see it—he was reaching his limits and at this rate, he was pushing himself over it. Anyone with eyes could tell it was taking its toll. The room trembled as more shadows collided and then, light pierced through the darkness. Not from outside, but from the god himself. The temperature dropped, frost curling along the edges of the walls. A faint, otherworldly glow began to pulse from his body—a cold, radiant light like the silvery hue of moonlight. 

“No…” one of them hissed, its voice trembling. “Impossible, you’re not just the God of Shadows. You’re something more.” 

Riki smirked, though his voice was hoarse. “Took you long enough but it’s too late.”

The room exploded with light and darkness entwined. Silvery beams of moonlight cut through the shadows like blades, illuminating the dark corners and banishing the minor gods' forms. Where once his power had been cold and suffocating, it was now an ethereal mix of grace and fury. The light clashed with the darkness, bending both to his will.

With a single, fluid motion, Riki raised his hand, and tendrils of shimmering shadow-laced light spiral outward, crashing into the minor gods. They shrieked, their forms unraveling like fabric torn apart by an unseen wind. One by one, they disintegrated, obliterated by the overwhelming force. You remained rooted to the ground, awestruck by the display of power you had just witnessed. Compared to the few times he showed you his ability, this was on another level. 

Riki turned to you, his eyes still glowing with that silvery light, but it was softer now and less dangerous. He looked almost ethereal, both equally terrifying and beautiful in the aftermath of the battle. You caught the way he staggered, his body swaying with exhaustion, but before he could face-planted to the ground, you caught him, pulling him into your arms. 

“You did it, you saved us,” you whispered, running your hand through his hair. 

He leans against you, his breath ragged but a smile stretched across his face. “Told you I would.”

Tears stung your eyes and you laughed, “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled weakly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close despite his exhaustion. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You held him tightly, the fear and chaos of the night finally melting away into a profound sense of peace. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Riki pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I’ll always protect you,” he promised, his voice tender. “And that’s a promise from me to you.” 

[gatheredfates]

WELCOME to Sea's Catch Up (For) Starlight Challenge! Also know as 'A FFIX Prompt?' (I just woke up), 'Is it Cosy or Cozy in Australia?' (Cosy) and bEANS (bEANS!).

Suffice it to say, there have been a lot of challenges this year—Gpose challenges, FFXIV Write, Down to Dawntrail and Seafloor Saints Wake (just to name ours)! I know from personal experience that I haven't had the time to get to every single prompt... but I've wanted to. I also know it can be really disheartening to miss out on prompts and feel like you're being weird for engaging with it later on in the year.

To that end, I wanted to open a challenge that encourages people to either tackle an existing prompt from any gpose/writing/art challenge that was hosted during the year (under the excuse of it being for this challenge) OR pick from one of the prompts above to make a Starlight-themed creative piece!

All of these words were chosen by various people within the SEAFLOOR Discord, and i have tried not to tie them too closely to Christmas so people who don't celebrate the holiday don't feel left out. If you want to change a word that is more applicable to your culture, but still embodies the same spirit of the holiday through family, humanity, spending time with your loved ones, etc. I highly encourage you to do so!

This challenge will run the entirety of the month of December and can be tackled in any way you see fit. If you want to do a prompt a day and mix in the words in amongst working on your old project(s), go for it! If you want to select some words and not others, cool! If you want to only work on your old stuff and leave this list in the dust, a okay! It's all about giving you a low-stakes way to engage with your creativity and an excuse to go back to stuff you might have missed, or take some time to celebrate the season and people who mean a lot to you (and your ocs)!

Please use the tag #catch up (for) starlight if you participate and consider joining our community! A more comprehensive FAQ is contained in the read more below. ☃️

But also:

Is the use of mods/shades/tools okay? Yes, of course! Whatever works for you to make your creative dreams come true.

What about NSFW (gore, sexual or otherwise)? Use common sense and appropriate tags as necessary, especially for common fears and phobias. I obviously cannot control what Tumblr sees as being too much, but the general rules for SEAFLOOR apply where possible. If your conservative boss wouldn't like to see it, consider tagging and content warning were necessary.

Where do I post works? Hopefully your Tumblr blog, silly, but you can also reblog them to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community or join us on Discord! If someone posts their work in either of those spaces, consider reacting with a wintery-themed emoji! It just lets people know you enjoyed it. ❄️ I am going to do my best to reblog prompts when I see them, but I am going away during the Christmas period so I may not be contactable in that time.

Is there a prize? There might be this time around, though I haven't given it much thought. Seafloor members will get a fancy cosmetic title.

[jo-harrington]

A Very Corroded Black Friday AKA Extended Holiday Hours CCFest x SMVerse Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader

CCFest Black Friday Prompt: One Day Only

Summary: In an unprecedented turn for 1986, StarCourt Mall announces that it's staying open for 24 Hours on Black Friday. Eddie barely survived a regular shift last year; what will happen when he and his friends embark on an adventure during the dreaded Extended Holiday Hours? It's one day only. How bad could it be?

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: No Upside Down AU, Friendship, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Character Growth, established relationship between Eddie and the Claire's Store Manager (reader), references to media and pop culture, retail and food service themes

Notes: Thanks to @corrodedcoffinfest for another fantastic pop-up, this one absolutely up my alley.

This fic is set in my Store Manager Verse. It's a very fluffy friends-to-lovers story about Eddie, who works at Tape World, and the Claire's Store Manager. This installment will be set in 1986 and I'll do my best to make it as digestible as possible for anyone who hasn't read SMVerse. Just know that the focus will be on Corroded Coffin more than Eddie and Reader.

I might be a smidge late with this than I hoped I would be; I had my own Black Friday nightmares to deal with today. Such is the world of retail. Hope you enjoy the shenanigans of our favorite guys.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

November 27, 1986 - Thanksgiving 11:45PM

"Do we have to go in?"

"Yes."

"What if we all faked our deaths and changed our names?"

"Then you can't buy your mom that glass bird she wanted for Christmas, dingus."

"We could just sell one of Dave's kidneys to buy the bird."

"Why one of my kidneys? She's your mom!"

"Considering how many 'your mom' jokes I've had to hear, it might as well be your kidney."

"Guys!" you shouted to get them all to stop their bickering. "It'll be alright. It's just Black Friday. We'll survive."

"Barely," Eddie grumbled from his spot in the driver's seat.

"You're not helping," you scoffed at him.

You were all piled into the van, staring at the brightly-lit entrance to StarCourt Mall as though it was the gate to hell.

As a matter of fact, it might as well have been. There was already a line of grouchy, cold customers gathered outside the entrance to the mall, and each time a group of employees approached to be let in by mall security, they started shouting and getting restless, as though the doors were about to open for them instead of the poor souls that would inevitably be the targets of their shitty behavior.

After a year of being open, the excitement around the new and shiny StarCourt Mall had faded. Now it was just The Mall, much like every new shopping center became after the novelty wore off. People still shopped, of course they did, but mall management seemed to like the hype that had surrounded StarCourt upon their grand opening.

So they came up with a gimmick that got them on the news and in the papers and had all of the residents of Roane County talking: Extended Holiday Hours.

In fact, not just any extended hours.

The mall would be open for 24 Hours on Black Friday.

Actually, it wouldn't just be open. It was a whole event.

There would be gift certificates for the first 100 customers who entered the mall, raffles and giveaways, free snacks and hot cocoa available all day, and all the pomp and circumstance surrounding Santa's long-awaited arrival to Roane County as his workshop opened for families to snap their perfect holiday pictures.

Gag.

Although you were well-versed in retail with a store of your own--that you'd volunteered to work the whole 24 hours with a sneaky nap in the stock room slipped in--Eddie had only experienced one Black Friday, as a mid-shift. And Jeff, Gareth, and Dave? This would be their first holiday season in retail, let alone a crazy gimmick on the biggest shopping day of the year.

So the Gates of Hell? Yeah, they were actually looking pretty tame compared to StarCourt Mall.

As if sensing your sudden and uncharacteristic trepidation, Eddie sat a little straighter and took on a look of determination.

"Alright," he rallied as the clock on the dashboard clicked closer to midnight. "Are we gonna sit in here and freeze to death as we wait in fear? Or are we gonna go in there and try our best? Because those paychecks are gonna look pretty nice if we survive.

"So what do you guys say?"

He turned back to his younger friends, eyebrows raised expectantly.

They all glanced at each other before they all shouted for Eddie to start the van and drive them all home.

"Unbelievable," he grumbled and yanked his keys from the ignition so he could climb out of the van himself.

You and the others followed suit and you walked towards the entrance together, in solidarity, before splitting off to your respective stores once you were in.

StarCourt's 24-Hour Black Friday Blowout was One Day Only.

How bad could it possibly be?

3:15AM Gareth - Hot Dog on a Stick

Gare didn't know how people could be hungry for something from the food court in the middle of the goddamned night when they'd just gorged themselves on Thanksgiving dinner and surely had plenty of leftovers back home.

At least, that was the mindset he had when he agreed to being on the opening shift for Black Friday.

Hot Dog on a Stick hadn't been his first choice for a job; actually, he thought that he'd be a shoe-in for getting rehired at Santa's Workshop, just like he'd done last year for some extra cash. Unfortunately, he'd been a little too late with his application.

"Food Court's always hiring though," his old boss suggested sympathetically.

So Hot Dog on a Stick it was.

He thought the job would be easy, especially the opening shift for Black Friday. He'd had his training shifts and they had gone so well! He figured they'd be like that. 8 hours of eating funnel cake fries and thinking of the perfect gifts for his friends and flirting with his coworker, Annie, until it was time to go home.

Maybe he'd even get the balls to ask her out by the time they clocked out.

He should have known that expectation would definitely not meet reality.

And everything that could go wrong definitely did.

He'd burned the first batch of hot dogs that they'd prepared as they opened for business. He swore he'd only turned to get a glimpse of Annie's perfect profile for just a second as she talked and laughed with their shift lead. Next thing he knew, the fryer was beeping and the oil was bubbling and he was scrambling to get the hot dogs out as quickly as he could before the fire alarms went off.

His rotation at the register wasn't much better.

You know, he was actually pretty good at keeping track of things in DnD. Jeff was the more superior note-taker, but Gareth was actually the one who caught all of the little intricacies that Jeff seemed to miss.

Taking orders from people was an entirely different story, though. He couldn't seem to press the right buttons on the cash register, and if he did and he got lucky, he forgot to charge them for something else. The line of customers just got longer and longer, and angrier and angrier, and his shift lead kept coming over to fix his mistakes.

He was about to scream when he felt Annie's hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't I take over for you," she smiled sympathetically. "I'm pretty good on the register. If you want to just focus on getting everyone's orders together?"

He swallowed his frustration, nodded dumbly, and listened to the suggestion.

The longer he kept his head down and focused on the task at hand, the more dejected he felt. This job was chaotic and fast-paced and unlike anything he'd ever done in his life. There were so many eyes on him and he kept messing up. It had only been 3 hours and somehow he felt like he never wanted to come back again.

Soon, it was time for him to take his lunch. He was already so sick of the smell of food that he skipped his own lovingly-packed leftovers in favor of walking around the mall. As he dodged wayward customers shuffling from one store to the next, laden with shopping bags, he contemplated ripping his stupid hat off his head and quitting.

Money or no money, he didn't care; his shift lead could take his stupid job and shove it.

When he returned to the food court, though, he saw something that made him change his mind.

Annie was in the back, sitting on an overturned milk crate, with her head in her hands as she cried quietly.

"Hey," he said, trying not to startle her. "You ok?"

"No!" she wailed and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with fire, but they softened as they landed on Gareth. "No. Some lady called me stupid because I wouldn't accept her dumb StarCourt Black Friday coupon. It even said 'excludes food court' on it, and she refused. Then when I refused to get a manager to give her a discount, she squirted me with mustard and said '"'the customer is always right.'"

Lo and behold, the front of her multicolor uniform was stained with splotches of yellow mustard.

"What a bitch," Gareth swore.

"Yeah," she sniffed. "What a bitch."

The two of them stared at each other for a second before they laughed and shared more of their woes with each other.

Gareth quickly realized that as bad as he had it at this shitty job, his coworkers had it just as bad, if not worse. And it would all be ok, because they had each other to complain to and make faces at.

So he might quit, one day. Maybe even tomorrow. But it certainly wouldn't be today.

6:00AM Dave - Spencer's Gifts

"Where do you think you're going, David?"

Dave froze at the voice behind him as he crept closer and closer to the front of the store. He turned and found himself under the unsettling--and quite frankly creepy--gaze of his boss, Henry Creel.

"Uh," he fidgeted. "Hey Henry. What's up? You need me on register?"

He knew that Henry most certainly did not need him on register, and he fidgeted under that intense stare as Henry folded his arms over his chest and waited for Dave to fess up to...whatever it was that he was up to.

See, Dave wasn't as stupid as he was making himself out to be here; actually, he was pretty clever. But he was the worst when it came to confrontation.

Expectation.

Or possibly a simple case of indecision.

This whole thing started because he needed a job. Who didn't? But given the way you and Eddie and Gareth went on and on about working at the mall, he'd been enticed into applying at almost every store at StarCourt.

Spencer's had been his dream, short of rock star or sex symbol or Geddy Lee's muse. How could it not be? The lewd t-shirts and the gag gifts. Of course, with a manager like Henry, he thought that he'd bombed the interview.

That's why when Mr. Newby had called and offered him a seasonal position at Radio Shack, he'd said yes immediately.

Dave had been ecstatic. He already liked the jovial, older man. He was not only friendly to his customers but he was friendly to his employees too. Dave really felt like he was part of the family when he'd gone into orientation.

So why was he currently at Spencer's?

Because after he'd hung up the phone with Bob, Henry had called to offer him another seasonal position.

His dream job at StarCourt.

What could he possibly do but accept the job? Accept both jobs. Especially when Bob was so nice to him, and Henry was so off-putting.

Dave figured...he was done with school, there wouldn't be anything wrong with having two jobs and juggling both schedules and band practice and DnD. That should've been the end of it.

He'd gone to orientations and training shifts. He got shiny plastic name tags and keys to the locked cases and quickly made friends with his coworkers. Everything was going swimmingly.

Until his Black Friday shifts overlapped entirely.

He tried to bring it up to both of his managers but every time he tried to open his mouth and say something, he lost his nerve.

In the end he figured if he was smart about it, he could work both shifts simultaneously.

And he had been smart about it. Radio Shack and Spencer's were almost right across from each other in the same wing at StarCourt. With the massive crowds of customers to take advantage of, plus some well-planned breaks and lunches, and some over-staffing for the big day, he could sneak across the hall every so often and no one would know any better.

He switched his name tags and his keyring, dedicating his left pocket to Radio Shack and his right pocket to Spencer's.

And it had been working.

Until now.

He and Henry stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to break, but Dave had never been good at staring contests and Henry seemed like he never needed to blink. Dave's eyes watered and his resolve wavered as his fear of confrontation got the best of him.

"Alright," Dave threw his hands over his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it, I just couldn't tell you that I had a job at Radioshack or Bob that I had another job here. I didn't want to let either of you down. And I know I should just pick one store, but I like both jobs and I...I don't know...I don't know! I'm sorry!"

He hung his head in shame and waited for the older man to yell at him or tell him that he was fired or to get lost. He wouldn't even blame Henry if he turned him around and gave him a swift kick in the ass.

Instead, his boss crossed the distance and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, you could've just told me about the situation with your other job," Henry told him earnestly.

"Seriously?" Dave asked, dumbstruck.

"I'm not gonna fire you because you have a second job," Henry snorted. "There's nothing wrong with that. Joey works weekends at Bradley's too, and I work with him to make sure he isn't overworking himself as much as I can. I know I can be a little...intense sometimes, but I'm your manager, not a villain."

Dave forced himself to laugh along with his boss.

"I'll let you have an extra fifteen if you want to go and explain the situation to Bob. And you can decide which store you want to finish off the rest of your shift at."

"Alright. Thanks Henry."

Henry clapped him on the shoulder and then nodded towards RadioShack.

Dave thanked him again and then started to walk away, when he paused and turned back to Henry.

"Hey, uh, how'd you find out?" Dave asked. "That I was sneaking out of the store?"

"Well," Henry took a breath and folded his arms over his chest. "It took some serious observation skills, some detective work on my part. You honestly did a good job of sneaking back and forth in my opinion. I didn't realize it until five minutes ago when you made one fatal mistake."

"Seriously? What did I do wrong?"

Henry took a step forward and flicked a finger against Dave's chest.

"You're still wearing your Radio Shack name tag."

9:05AM Jeff - Sam Goody

Jeff was a pretty easy going guy, if he could say so himself.

He was funny, he was level-headed, he was attentive and a good friend, and he could get his friends out of a pinch if and when they needed him. And since he started this job, he found out that he was a pretty damn good employee too!

But today, of all days, he had a problem.

"Hey Jeffy," his coworker, Gina, snickered over the headset. "Your stalker is back."

And that problem was named Edward J. Munson.

"I think he's hiding behind the dump bins of discount cassettes Jeff, if you wanna deal with that?" His manager chimed in, causing Jeff to groan and abandon his spot in the back of the store.

Jeff couldn't exactly say that he blamed Eddie, really.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Eddie was the reason they were both in this predicament in the first place.

Jeff had just wanted a job, just like everyone else, and he figured it would be really cool if he could work at Tape World alongside Eddie. It was a job that revolved around music, and over the course of the last year or so, Jeff had really witnessed Eddie develop another layer of confidence in himself, especially after losing it all the first two times he failed to graduate.

Now look at him, he was a keyholder at a job he was really good at, he finally graduated high school, and he had a girlfriend? He had really come into his own.

Jeff felt like it was his turn now.

Especially as he put any serious college plans on hold so they could focus on the band once Gareth graduated in June. Sure, he took a few classes at the tri-county community college and even had a job at the book store on campus. But music was his passion, just like Eddie's. So a job at Tape World made the most sense.

Only Eddie had said no.

Actually, he blamed you. Said you told him not to help his friends get a job once-upon-a-time, because that just put a strain on friendships.

And Jeff could understand how you'd come to that conclusion; shit, they had enough creative differences with Corroded Coffin sometimes.

So Jeff turned to the next-best option: Sam Goody.

Because there wasn't just one music store in the mall. There were two. Just because he couldn't work at Tape World didn't mean that he couldn't work at any music store.

But that had been a little too much for Eddie to stomach, apparently.

"Traitor!" he had wailed when Jeff excitedly broke the news to him. He'd fallen to his knees and clutched his chest as though his heart was about to burst. "How could you do this to me? To us. Didn't you learn your lesson when we watched the Godfather? Never go against the family Fredo!"

"It's just a job Eddie," Jeff argued as he nudged his friend where he was dramatically lying prone on the ground. "I'm not a traitor. I'm not going against the family."

No matter how much Jeff tried to defend himself, though, Eddie couldn't seem to get over the hurdle. Especially not today of all days, where he crept down the hall to sneak into Sam Goody and spy on Jeff every chance he got.

Breaks, trips to the loading dock to take out garbage, he even brought you along when you guys went on lunch together. He tried to be as stealthy as he could, ducking behind displays or holding a magazine over his face, but the whole Sam Goody staff recognized Eddie after the first two hours of the day. And after a good 9 hours of endless greetings and sales spiels and customer interactions, Jeff was starting to lose his mind, hallucinating Eddies all around the store. If someone wore a denim vest or leather jacket or a pair of brown eyes stared at him through a video display, well that must be Eddie.

Now his shift was almost over, enough was enough, and Eddie needed a swift talking to so that Jeff didn't have to put up with this nonsense for the rest of his life.

Or, at the very least, until his boss got sick of Eddie's antics and fired him.

Jeff circumnavigated the store so that he could sneak behind Eddie, and when he found the older boy crouched behind a cardboard standee of Cyndi Lauper, he lifted his foot and kicked Eddie right in the ass.

"Fah...rts," Eddie caught himself before he swore in front of a group of kids. He turned and glared at Jeff. "Farts, Jeffrey. What the hell was that for?"

"Why are you playing Mission: Impossible in my store, Ed?" Jeff questioned in response.

"I think you answered your own question there," Eddie sniffed haughtily. "Mission: Impossible. Reconnaissance. Scoping out the competition. Someone has to do it, especially since someone decided to turn to the dark side."

"I didn't turn to the dark side!" Jeff threw his hands in the air. "I'm not a traitor, I didn't betray our friendship, because I work at a rival store that you do."

"No but that's exactly what it is. I wouldn't help you get a job at Tape World, so you decided you'd break my heart by working for my nemesis."

"I don't think Sam Goody is your nemesis, Eddie," Jeff snorted.

"It's commercial," Eddie argued. "It's mainstream. It's--"

"It's a job," Jeff interjected. "I make $3.50 per hour and I get one free tape per month if I work more than 20 hours. It's fun here, I like my coworkers. I like the job. And I'm sure I would've liked it if I worked at Tape World with you too."

"You could've had fun selling candles at Wicks and Sticks!"

Jeff felt a pang in his chest, and although he could see the pain in Eddie's eyes, he needed to put his own feelings first. For once.

"I wanted to work someplace I enjoyed." He shrugged dejectedly. "You're always telling us to follow our hearts. So I did. And if that means that I'm a traitor...that I'm your nemesis now...I guess that's exactly what I am. And you don't need to worry about driving your nemesis home from work Ed. Have a great day."

He turned on his heel to head back towards his section to finish off his shift, heart plummeting into his ass as he realized that this nonsense probably cost him his closest friend.

But a hand clamped on his arm and stopped him before he got much further.

Jeff turned back and raised a questioning brow at Eddie.

"Can I help you find anything today sir?" he asked.

Eddie's mouth opened and closed a few times as he found the right words, face scrunched with, what Jeff knew was, self-loathing. Finally, he spoke.

"I thought," he paused for a moment to lick his lips. "I thought you took this job because you were mad at me for not getting you a job at Tape World. I hadn't realized it was because you actually wanted to...to work at a store like this."

"Damn Ed, are you the only one who can suggest music to people?" Jeff snarked.

"Considering I have the correct taste in music, yes," Eddie responded without missing a beat. But his expression got soft again. "But I'll let you tell people to listen to...I dunno Bon Jovi or whatever it is you guys sell here. As long as you're having fun doing it."

"I am," Jeff nodded, and then smiled widely. "I really like working here Eddie."

"Good."

"Good."

"Alright then," Eddie cleared his throat and clapped a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "We're good then."

"Yeah."

"Then I only need to come and spy to make sure they're treating you well."

"No more spying Eddie!" Jeff laughed.

"Fine!" Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "No more spying."

2:35 PM Eddie - Tape World

Eddie was exhausted.

He hadn't expected to work a double, but he seemed to draw the short straw when Paulie showed up for his shift and promptly puked all over the front of the store.

Lucky bastard, getting some kind of food poisoning from Thanksgiving dinner.

Honestly, Eddie would rather be sick in bed instead of surrounded by screaming customers and all of the new hires that were now his responsibility to corral around the god damned store.

"Why me?" he whined to Kyle as his boss stood in front of the bathroom mirror and fixed the novelty turkey hat on his head.

"Because I don't want to," Kyle snorted.

"It's good to be the king, isn't it," Eddie swatted the turkey off Kyle's head, earning a groan from the older man. "Come on, I'm already picking up Paulie's shift, have Mitch babysit the new kids. I'll do all the returns. Every customer complaint. For the rest of my shift."

"You," Kyle poked a finger into Eddie's chest, "constantly refer to yourself as a shepherd with your little sheepies. I'm just adding to your flock. It's a bunch of kids from the high school. You need to work on your leadership skills if you wanna promote to ASM one day. This is how you get there.

"Just preach the good word about metal to them and do a few headbangs to hypnotize them, and then have them work on alphabetizing tapes. Easy squeezy."

And God Bless Kyle, because as good of a boss as he was to Eddie and the rest of the team--the older brother they never realized they wanted or needed--he was honestly a liar and an asshole.

Keeping an eye on the new hires was not easy or squeezy.

Eddie seriously didn't think that he had as bad of a time last year when he was new. But he guessed that last year he had a few months of experience under his belt before black friday. These kids were fresh.

A poindexter-type kid named Lawrence--not to be referred to as Larry by any means--who actually complained about how loud the music was inside of the store before he wandered off on his own and Eddie couldn't be bothered with him.

A blue-haired punk girl with a mohawk who dared to call him a freak and criticize him for his t-shirt. He hadn't even needed to tell her to go and organize the tapes, she took the initiative herself after she called the store a pig stye.

Eddie had to respect that.

Lastly, there was the one...

The only...

Mike fucking Wheeler.

"What? How did you get a job here Wheeler?" Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms. "I even told Jeff that he couldn't work here. Conflict of interest. No working with friends."

"Who said?" Mike whined.

"Mom says," Eddie emphasized the kids nickname for you.

"Bullshit. Besides, I'm already hired, and I'm here now. So you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Eddie grit his teeth as Mike grinned smugly.

"Kyle!!!!" He shouted across the store for his boss.

There was no way he was going to work with Mike Wheeler.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what he had to do.

And speaking of shepherd and sheep, that's exactly what Eddie and Mike looked like. Eddie went to help a customer and Mike trailed right behind him. Eddie labeled markdowns, Mike was labeling them too. Eddie suggested Metallica to a customer, Mike would interject with his favorite Metallica album to them.

The album which happened to also be Eddie's favorite as well.

It was honestly getting a bit annoying.

"He probably misses you," you offered when Eddie jogged upstairs to see how you were faring on the second leg of your own lengthy shift. "He looks up to you. And Dustin does too. And Lucas. They all do. This is probably a treat to hang out with you since you graduated. Be nice to him."

Eddie leaned closer to mutter in your ear, "He's waiting outside right now sweetheart."

"Ok," you sighed. "That's a little weird. Send him off on his own break. Give him a task of his own. Show him how to use the register. He doesn't need to follow you helplessly; you're letting him do it."

Eddie tried.

He absolutely did.

Mike was hopeless though.

Register training went about as badly as it could on Black Friday, with several buttons jamming and the cash drawer getting stuck in the open position.

Eddie even tried to get Mike to sweep, and Mike took it upon himself to actually mop the floors. Mop. On black friday. With a store full of customers.

Yeah, that was a disaster.

And Eddie could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing.

All while Kyle oversaw the whole store and laughed at every mishap.

Thankfully, the end of his shift was imminent, and he would be free of Mike Wheeler. At least until the next shift they had together.

"Maybe I'll have a stroke before then," he sighed and headed to the stock room to get his things so he could go and pass out back home.

Only to find Mike sitting at the little desk waiting for him.

"You did good today, Wheeler," he sighed and beelined for the little locker that held his things. He at least tried to put a little bit of a positive attitude on for Mike. It was his first day, after all. "It'll all get easier next time, you'll see. Just like learning to ride a bike."

"Uh," Mike scratched the back of his neck and shuffled back and forth. "I don't think I'll be coming back."

Eddie froze and stared at the younger boy.

"What?"

"Yeah, I...I just don't think I'm cut out for a job like this," he shrugged. "You make it look so easy."

"Practice. It takes practice," Eddie insisted. "What did I just say? Learning to ride a bike. You've gotta fall off a few times first. Scrape your knees and all that shit."

"Well, I think I'm in intensive care with the number of times I fell off today," Mike let out a self-deprecating laugh. "So I think it's time to return the bike. I'll tell Kyle when I leave."

"No you're not gonna tell Kyle shit," Eddie demanded. "Because you're not quitting. Come on Mike, I've seen you face the craziest monsters I could throw at a player in DnD and not blink an eye. You've got bravery, you've got guts. What is this?"

"This is different Eddie. I'm brave when I have my friends around," Mike sighed. "When I'm alone, I'm worthless."

And oh, Eddie Munson's heart--which was, admittedly, pretty big to begin with--grew three sizes at that.

Maybe you were right, that he was just being a grouch because Mike was a little snot-nosed punk. But Mike was one of his snot-nosed punks, and he wasn't gonna let one of his friends think that they were going through it alone.

Because he had thought he'd been alone so many times, and all he had to do was look past his own nose to see that there were plenty of people there to rally for him.

He took a breath and crouched down so he could look Mike in the eye.

"Hey kid, you're not alone here," he began gently. "I wouldn't have told you that you did a good job today if I didn't mean it. And it might seem like you're alone here because it's a new and scary experience. But you're not alone. You have me. And I'll be here to lead you through until you can face the scary world that is StarCourt on your own. You hear me?"

Mike's eyes darted back and forth between Eddie's before his face broke into a wide smile.

"Thanks Eddie," he cheered.

"Don't mention it."

"I'll do my best, I promise," Mike insisted. "I won't let you down, and...and..."

"I said don't mention it," Eddie stood straight and ruffled Mike's hair, then nodded towards the door. "You better go clock out and head home. I'm sure your mom has a turkey sandwich waiting for you at home."

Mike scurried out of the stockroom and Eddie turned back to his locker, and when he closed it, Kyle was suddenly there, grinning like the cheshire cat.

"Look at you, developing those leadership skills," he told Eddie proudly.

"I fucking hate you," Eddie snarked at him, then sighed. In that moment, he realized that this was a passing the torch sort of moment. Kyle had passed it to him when he gave Eddie a chance, and now Eddie was passing that torch to Mike by giving him the chance. He wouldn't fuck it up.

"Thanks Kyle."

November 28, 1986 Claire's - 12:10AM

You were dead by the time you and the closing team trudged out of StarCourt.

The mall itself looked like something out of a horror movie. The lights were off. It was practically abandoned and trash was everywhere. The mall muzak was shut off and there was the sound of a distant store radio that was still on somewhere, playing a haunting, off-tune saxophone.

But you survived. You and your team and countless other teams survived the epic StarCourt 24 Hour Blowout and you, thankfully, would be working the mid-shift tomorrow so you could sleep in.

You all exited the mall and into the employee lot, and you waved goodbye to your team as you approached the van that waited where Eddie had parked it almost a whole day prior.

"You better have gone home and actually gotten some rest," you announced as you threw open the passenger door to the familiar sight of Eddie and a bag of McDonalds, while Beth softly played on the stereo.

You pulled the van door shut behind you as Eddie sung along and then leaned across the console to drop a sleepy smooch of both greeting and gratitude on his lips.

"I did after I finished my double," Eddie said after a few soft kisses. "How are you doing?"

"I'm hoping that this fucking spectacle doesn't become a tradition," you announced and gestured towards the mall before you dug into the bag of food. "I don't think I can do another twenty-four-hour Black Friday again."

Eddie took in the sight of you, looking even more worse for wear than you had last Black Friday during a normal 8-hour shift.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say," he chuckled. "Gotta do something more than once if you wanna consider it a tradition."

"And is this our tradition now?" you asked.

"What? One of us has a rough Black Friday shift and the other feeds them."

"No," you snorted. "McDonalds and KISS when you pick me up from work?"

Eddie contemplated it for a moment, "you know what, it's not the worst tradition to have. What do you think?"

You sighed and sunk into the passenger's seat as you chomped away on hot, salty fries. You knew that you wanted to ask him about his day, and about the rest of the band and how their shifts went, but for now...

"I think it's perfect."

[cxffecoupx]

love languages: jeon wonwoo

jeon wonwoo x reader fluff warnings: mentions of food, mentions of being attacked while playing games wc: 651 author's notes: will forever support the gamer!wonwoo agenda. i actually wanna play games with him and seungcheol😔. also, trying to finish posting this series for the '96 line before i change my theme for a winter event (i hope i get done w jihoon's tomorrow.) hope you like it!

acts of service:-

wonwoo loves silently. he might not always say it out loud (but mind you, he does — he does when he feels like his heart will explode if he doesn't say it) but he expresses it in ways that melts your heart. he shows his love when he kisses you on your forehead when you sleep in on day-offs, before heading to make you breakfast (well, attempting to). he shows his love when he stops you in the middle on your walk to tie your shoelaces, or pulls you across him so he's the one walking towards the road-side. he shows his love by restocking all your favourite candies and drinks and fruits when they're over, or when you're nearing your shark week. it's his love in the way he makes you an album of all the pics of you he's taken while you weren't noticing. he doesn't say it all out, but you can see it in the efforts he puts in for you, and that's more than enough for you.

"we might need to go grocery shopping; we're out of banana milk..." your voice traces off as you open the fridge and notice a tray filled with the item you just mentioned. wonwoo hugs you from the back as he nuzzles into your neck, "i knew you'd say that, so i bought them the other day itself."

quality time:-

another way wonwoo expresses love is by trying to be with you as much as he can. weekends are days for you both to relax together, even if that means you're on the opposite sides of the couch, one reading a book and one watching videos on their phone. he lovingly indulges in your routines — silently accepting his fate when you drag him for skincare, humming songs to keep you company as you clean up the kitchen, massaging your head on wash days. when he's playing games and you're somewhere around, he instinctively pulls you into his lap, saying something along the lines of, "you help me play better." so now you're on his lap, playing with and tugging at his hair while he wins games.

wonwoo silently watches you as you gather a few things and get ready for your bath. you turn around to look at him, "hey, i'm going to take a bath." he smirks before standing up. "mind if i join?"

playing video games together:-

if wonwoo is asked, 'what are the two things he loves the most?' he'd probably reply with 1) games, and 2) you. so even though playing games together comes under quality time, it's so special to wonwoo; it's like his own multiverse of madness. It was a surprise to him, when you'd first told him you were interested. he almost jumped from joy when he actually processed it. from then on, it was a joint project to help you clear the levels; sometimes he wouldn't even let you play because 'its too difficult, I'll do this for you.' always plays on your team because he wants to be there for you when you need help, but once he understood that you're good on your own, you started competing against each other (you winning over him ended up turning him on, and you had to deal with it, but that's a story for another time). he also gives your characters names that match with his — GAM3 BO1 and GAM3 G1RL (will get ready to physically fight anyone who's already taken the name).

"wonwoo!! i'm being attacked!" you yell at the top of your voice. wonwoo rushes his character over to where you were getting attacked and uses his special skill, the shield (one he bought especially for you), to help you regain health and get into form. but just as you begin to play, wonwoo says: "i'll complete this level for you, love. you just sit back and look pretty."

[silverskye13]

Dude dude dude I’ve been reading all the snippets that aren’t on AO3 and because of how they were sent to me I couldn’t reply then (also like- I figured it would be maybe a little annoying to get 12 messages about them when I could send one longer one)

All of them are just so incredibly wonderfully written god I could go on for hours about the deconstruction of every single sentence, but one stood out as a favourite:

“The best seat” for exactly one reason: THE END POEM LINES!!!! Stunning!!!!!! Incredibly spaced and the repetition and the way it repeats the ‘universe loves me more’ theme and OUGH feeling shrimp emotions about these guys, Wels might be a little BITCH but he’s a damn poetic one

Also the delivery ficlet on AO3 (Red and Renbob) MAN those two are so goofy I love them- comedic timing can be hard to get right in writing but the whole paragraph of Renbob speaking with emoticons and the reader (or at least me-) thinking “how is he doing that??” And then immediately Red wonders the same thing? I was cracking up

Also this changes depending on who’s appeared most recently, but my current favourite character is The Hand- he’s just so *close* to Martyn (normal) that you start to forget he’s not until something happens and you go oh. *oh*. And the differences hit you like a knee to the stomach

The whole fic the whole world you’ve made- just absolutely stunning, incredible, for certain it has permanently changed my brain chemistry and I cannot wait to see how it continues and finishes <3333

So like, just so you're aware, when I first received this ask I was stuck on the highway after my tire exploded [literally, it was in ragged tatters when I got to the shoulder]. It was snowing and freezing and the jack slipped off while I was changing the tire [unharmed] and it took the roadside assistance guy 2 hours to get to me after promising "just five more minutes I swear" and "I just passed you I'm coming back around, two minutes," three, four, five goddamn times.

And you know what? This made me smile. It was a smile I desperately needed, sitting on the busy road watching it snow and waiting for literally anyone to help. So thank you for your kindness, and for writing kind words, and for being excited. You have no idea how positive of an impact that had on a truly grueling day.

I'm glad!! You liked the end poem Wels perspective fic. I was writing it to "Put it on Me" by Matt Maeson [recommended to me by countthelions] and I was trying very hard to emulate the feeling of circling and inevitability the song has. There's a very waltz-like meter in the song and it's very very fun to work with.

And! I'm glad the comedy from the Red/Renbob one landed! I mostly use comedy to break tension in fics, so doing a completely upbeat/comedic centered fic had me a little nervous I couldn't land the tone. I am so so stoked you enjoyed it :3

[drakorn]

Rewriting Veilguard Part 3 - The Grey Wardens

Rewriting Veilguard Part 2 - The Shadow Dragons

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Grey Wardens

So before we start, I would like to notify you of three minor changes I made to my previous blog entry regarding the Shadow Dragons:

Varric no longer tells us about Solas straight away. I believe that’s a bomb that would be more effective when dropped later, otherwise poor Rook might just be a tad overwhelmed.

Neve stays in Minrathous rather than accompanying Rook and Varric. Yeah, as much as I like the idea of your chosen faction determining your first companion, I don’t think it’s really doable given the circumstances a few other companions find themselves in at the start of the game.

The Dreadwolf title card does not appear just yet. I found a better spot to use it later.

Now that we have dealt with the Shadow Dragon origin story, let us move on to the Grey Wardens. And here, we are going to have some fun because boy do I have ideas for this one.

The Grey Wardens were kinda the faction I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to playing at first and there’s a reason for that. You see, we already played a Grey Warden in DAO, and I actually like each game’s protagonist being someone very different. However, when I think about it now, there is some narrative logic to it. If DAV truly is the last Dragon Age game (which is very up in the air right now), it makes total sense to have this choice to bookend the story. You started as a Grey Warden, and now you’ll finish as one. Plus, with the Blight giving us its last hoorah in this one, it only makes sense to put the Wardens in a more prominent position once again.

So, without further ado, let us jump into the Grey Warden origin story!

Creating Rook

We start a new game, Varric gives his opening narration about the overall state of Northern Thedas, and this time, we click on the Grey Warden origin. The little blurb reads as follows:

“You are a Grey Warden. An ancient military order sworn to battle the ever-present threat of the Darkspawn, the Wardens undergo secret, unbreakable rites that grant them supernatural powers against the Taint. As the last surviving member of the Dornen outlaws, you joined the order after a passing Senior Warden invoked the Right of Conscription at your execution and gave you the chance to fight another day. But what you will do with it, that is up to you.”

Right there, we have a great canvas to paint with when it comes to sheer roleplay. We are a former criminal, the last survivor of a group known as the Dornen. Our group wasn’t, like, evil, but we were enough of a presence in the area in and around Hossberg to cause some proper trouble. The Anderfels is a dangerous land, the most dangerous one in Thedas. People don’t live, they survive. This means that many turn to unlawful ways to make ends meet. But being a former outlaw beautifully lines up with the theme of second chances the Order gives to so many people.

In DAV, our Warden’s name is Thorne. “Dornen” is the German words for “Thorns”. The Anderfels’ linguistic and etymological side is mostly based on German (“Anderfels” meaning “Other Rock” or “Weisshaupt” meaning “White Head”). So wouldn’t it be a fun idea if “Thorne” isn’t really the Warden’s last name but just the name they ended up going with? They arguably never knew their family name and the Dornen were as close to one as they could have gotten.

Unlike Mercar, your racial choice won’t really have that much of an impact here as the Wardens accept everyone into their ranks, as long as they can fight. However, if you choose to be a Qunari, it will add a few unique dialogue lines about how few Qunari there are in the order. You are probably one of the only ones.

For this hypothetical playthrough, we shall pick a dwarf warrior, and I’m giving him a big ginger beard. Just going full Lord of the Rings here.

Alright, so we just generated our Thorne, and now we get to hear Varric’s continued narration. We get a series of those beautiful tarot-styled illustrations with Varric’s voice telling us what’s been happening with the Wardens for the last decade. The Wardens in the North specifically have been all gradually returning to Weisshaupt Fortress, by order of the First Warden. They have become much more reclusive and secretive than they already were and are sharing practically nothing with the outside world. Something’s definitely going on. And Varric thinks it might be part of something larger.

Weisshaupt Fortress

And now, for the first time ever, we get to see Weisshaupt Fortress in all its glory, a gigantic fortress carved into the very mountains, the great headquarters of the Grey Wardens that withstood for over a thousand years.

I really like the way Weisshaupt is portrayed in DAV, my only gripe is that we never get to actually properly explore it. I was…surprised by that, actually. So what better way to explore Weisshaupt than have it be part of the Grey Warden origin?

This is place filled with such incredibly rich history. Just imagine, this place has existed since the First Blight, an event older than Andraste. This is an absolute field day for lore enthusiasts such as myself.

As soon as Weisshaupt appears, we get a grand reprise of Inon Zur’s DAO main theme, establishing it as the Warden leitmotif. Now that we are able to properly play as a Grey Warden again, we are just eased back into that feeling. We might not be playing the Hero of Ferelden anymore, but we can definitely bring back the nostalgia. Music is such an important part of storytelling, it’s insane how much a well-chosen theme can do.

Meeting High Constable Janos

Thorne arrives at Weisshaupt after a recent patrol through the mountains and we are greeted by High Constable Janos, the second-in-command to the First Warden. For some reason that rank never comes up in DAV, so we’re just going to include that here.

Here we’re going to establish that Janos was the Warden-Commander who invoked the Right of Conscription during our execution all the way back in Hossberg a few years ago. But why would the Right of Conscription even work in a time without the Blight? Well, this is a fair question for any other nation than the Anderfels. But the Anderfels is constantly threatened by darkspawn incursions, making it the only nation where the Right of Conscription still holds weight without a Blight. Given how the First Warden is often seen as an advisor to the King/Queen, one can also say that the Wardens’ whole “no politics” spiel doesn’t really apply in the Anderfels, either.

Janos informs us of an upcoming mission, assigned by the First Warden himself. Thorne is to meet him, Janos, and a few others in the war room later that day. It is something quite urgent.

NOTE: Throughout the prologue, Rook is still referred to as Thorne, given that “Rook” as a nickname does not exist yet.

Exploring Weisshaupt

Before we head off to the war room, we get a chance to properly explore Weisshaupt for the first time. And there are some interesting things to be done here:

Thorne can walk in on a recruit training session hosted by Davrin. Yep, if we’re a Grey Warden, we get to meet Davrin a little earlier than every other origin. We won’t know anything about his secret griffon mission yet, so for now we just meet him as a trainer. We learn that Davrin and Thorne joined the Wardens at roughly the same time and initially disliked each other due to their different pasts. But over the years, they grew to a mutual understanding since that’s just what being part of the order does to you. In this encounter, we get to train the recruits with Davrin for a short while, even do a sparring session between the two of us.

We come across a few recruits who are yet to undergo the Joining. From here, we learn that there hasn’t really been a great influx of Wardens recently as people just don’t see the necessity. And while the Right of Conscription applies in the Anderfels outside a Blight, it does so only when the alternative is a crime verdict. The recruits know about the Joining already, so we can either reassure or prepare them for the possibility of dying.

We learn from the general chatter as we traverse Weisshaupt that many of the older Wardens are getting ready for their Calling. Since there’s such an unusually high number this time, they are organising something akin to a massive group exodus into the Deep Roads. From the same chatter, we also learn that there has been a staggeringly smaller amount of recruits every year. Some of the older Wardens are worried.

We can enter the library and meet Valya from the Last Flight novel. Instead of just leaving the Wardens for an unspecified reason like in DAV, here she stayed, survived her Joining, and has since been promoted to Chamberlain of the Grey, the order’s chief archivist after her predecessor embarked on his Calling. Her role in rediscovering the griffons had a huge part to play here, but we don’t know that yet. She has also entered a relationship with Caronel who has been promoted to Warden-Commander of the Anderfels. From Valya, who is also in charge with gathering reports from Wardens all around the world, we learn how the Wardens in the South are doing, and it’s quite something. Nathaniel Howe is now the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and operates from Vigil’s Keep. Yes, all Wardens have been ordered to return to Weisshaupt, but Ferelden is an exception to this summon as the First Warden deems Amaranthine  being an actual Arling and two Grey Wardens ruling the country as too valuable of an asset to just drop. The same can’t be said for Orlais, though, as we learn that the Orlesian Wardens, currently led by Stroud and Thom Rainier, have fortified the Warden stronghold outside Montsimmard and are currently acting as peacekeepers. In addition, Bethany is currently overseeing the still-standing Griffon Wing Keep. The First Warden looks at them with disdain for refusing to obey his orders, but he also can’t, in good conscience, declare war upon them as every Warden is valuable.

NOTE: Here we see some of our World State shine through. In this playthrough, Hawke was left behind in the Fade, allowing Stroud to be a force for good among the Wardens. Blackwall took back his original name of Thom Rainier and became a proper Grey Warden. Since Hawke took Bethany and Anders to the Deep Roads in DA2, Bethany was made a Grey Warden. Nathaniel Howe was recruited and both Vigil’s Keep and Amaranthine were defended properly, allowing the Wardens to once again maintain a strong presence in Ferelden. As mentioned in the previous post, Alistair and Cousland currently rule Ferelden. And, as we're about to see, Avernus has been left alive and allowed to ethically continue his research.

While still in the library, we get to read a few letters sent to Valya. One of them is from Cousland, dating back a few years now, stating that she is close to making progress on how to stop the Calling but that this is the last letter she’ll be able to send as she’s embarking to places where communication just isn’t possible. Another is from Stroud, stating his regret for how things turned out. Here we get some hints as to what happened when he came to Weisshaupt during DAI. Apparently him and the First Warden clashed on ideals, the First Warden insisting on staying distant and secretive and Stroud being in favour of change. The third letter is from Ramesh, the Warden from Tevinter Nights who discovered one of Ghilan’nains labs and is now searching for the other eleven. The fourth and final letter is a report from Avernus and concerns the progress of his superior Joining ritual. All of these are just codex entries as I doubt we'd get to see this publicly.

Meeting the First Warden

After exploring Weisshaupt, we enter the war room, where Jowin Glastrum, the First Warden himself, awaits us. Joining us in the meeting are High Constable Janos and Warden-Commander Caronel.

Now, let me make something very clear about the First Warden. I like that he’s old-fashioned and traditionalist in DAV, I think it was very in-character of him to act distant and dismissive towards people outside the order. However, he is also a Grey Warden first and foremost at heart, he has Thedas’ best interest in mind. He isn’t here just because of status and standing, no, he clawed his way up the ranks through valiant deeds. We know that many Wardens in the Anderfels come from noble lines and still have ties to those. While the First Warden is of a noble house, he doesn’t use that as something to flaunt over the Wardens. His idea of having ties to noble families is a strictly pragmatic one: the more ties, the more aid, the more recruits. While he might not get along with outsiders, he absolutely respects the Wardens under his command and, while not always agreeable, would never meaninglessly sacrifice them. He’s harsh, strict, often an asshole, but still a Warden at heart.

The First Warden briefs us on a mission: A strange crack into the Deep Roads has opened near the village of Lavendel and a darkspawn horde is gathering for a full assault. Wardens Evka and Antoine are already on-site, preparing the defences.

The First Warden orders us to take charge of the village’s defences alongside Caronel. Under no circumstances are we to abandon post. High Constable Janos will arrive with reinforcements to secure our victory. The idea is to lure the bulk of the horde out of the Deep Roads so that we can slay most of them.

We can inquire why Thorne was chosen for this, since our presence alongside the First Warden, the High Constable, and the Warden-Commander is pretty insignificant, to which the First Warden answers that we are very much due to becoming Senior Wardens ourselves, it’s just this one last assignment left until our promotion.

After the briefing, we leave the war room and encounter Davrin again, with whom you can share in your either excitement or humbleness. In any case, Davrin congratulates us on the soon-to-be promotion, claiming how deserving of it we are and how he would have never thought so upon our first meeting all those years ago.

If we wonder why Davrin wasn’t chosen to head to Lavendel, he’ll tease that he has something else going on, equally important, but won’t tell us what it is just yet as it’s top secret (wink wink caw caw).

Reaching Lavendel

We depart Weisshaupt and leave for Lavendel, a small but significant village not far away from Hossberg. We take a few newly joined Wardens with us, a group consisting of the recruits we met earlier at Weisshaupt.

Upon entering Lavendel, we are approached by Evka and Antoine, who have been busy preparing the defences. From the ensuing conversation we gather that Thorne is very well-acquainted with them, similar to Davrin, having shared in many patrols across the Anderfels with them.

While Caronel takes charge of the mission, he trusts your judgment on matters as it is your time to prove yourself further in the eyes of Weisshaupt. High Constable Janos leaves you be now and heads off to prepare the reinforcements on the other side of the hills.

In the distance, a faint dark red cloud indicates the approaching darkspawn.

Preparing for Battle

Before the darkspawn assault begins, we have the chance to explore Lavendel a little and engage in its defences. During this short segment, we have a few encounters to experience:

Naturally, we can talk to Evka and Antoine and reflect on some of our past adventures together.

We can speak to the new Wardens we’re supposed to co-lead with Caronel, either inspiring them or telling them to be realistic and not too hasty. It’s obvious many of them joined because of the heroic notion surrounding being a member of the order.

We can encounter Mila and her father, Lavendel’s blacksmith. Yeah, I haven’t made them occupants of Weisshaupt just yet, you’ll see why in a bit.

We can inspect the defences, which boil down to barricades, a few ballistae, and, of course, the Warden stronghold just outside the village. If we explore enough, we see a very large and lose rock on a jagged edge right next to Lavendel. Maybe this will be useful later? Since we took the extra time to look around, we can now have that in the back of our head. We can also spot a crack in the stronghold’s basement and encourage quick repairments to be made.

We can speak to Caronel and share in thoughts about the coming fight. All of us Wardens can sense the approaching darkspawn. Caronel isn’t too worried as it’s just a minor skirmish, albeit with a larger-than-usual horde. And why worry? We’ve got Janos swooping in with reinforcements, anyway. We can talk about Caronel’s promotion to Warden-Commander, which was very recent. It is surprising how one so young climbed the ladder so fast, to which Caronel responds that it’s really not so uncommon anymore, given how Ferelden’s Warden-Commander got the title only a year after joining. Well, granted, she took down the Archdemon and somehow lived to tell the tale, but the point stands.

Before we commence the battle, there is one big choice to be made about our position and that of the villagers. While Evka and Antoine suggest to pull all Wardens and villagers into the stronghold and brave the storm there, Caronel would rather only keep the villagers in there while us Wardens head out into the open and prevent the darkspawn from getting to them in the first place. We don’t really have enough Wardens to divide, so we must make that choice now.

Send both the Wardens and the villagers into the stronghold and fight on close and narrow ground. The villagers are at risk from getting into the heat of battle, but the Wardens will be close by to defend them.

Send the villagers into the stronghold and let the Wardens fight in the village itself. While the villagers will be more vulnerable in terms of sheer distance away from the Wardens, the darkspawn is less likely to even get near them.

For the sake of this playthrough, we choose to evacuate the village, and ourselves, into the stronghold. We feel confident but would rather keep our charges close to us. Being a former outlaw in the Anderfels has taught us how one should never leave their goal out of sight. Our aim is to defend, not to gloriously destroy. This shows us that Thorne is willing to cast the pride of glory aside and choose an arguably safer path.

An Old Friend

Our decision made, we deliver a short speech to the villagers, instructing them to head into the Warden stronghold. We shall follow suite immediately and position ourselves on the walls and in the courtyard. Since we’re familiar with the darkspawn’s habit of digging tunnels, we’ll make sure the basement is accounted for as well.

Once the villagers and Wardens head to the keep, we are approached by a most familiar face: Varric Tethras. This is certainly a surprise. While we’ve never met him in person, we’ve certainly heard and read about him. Varric says he was passing through on an errand of his own and figured he might as well aid Lavendel’s defences with Bianca. While we can question the sincerity of this statement, we can use any help we get.

Varric comments how many Wardens would seek out the more daring and glorious path and is pleased to see that we’re not one of them.

The Battle of Lavendel

Right so we’re all hunched up in the fortress, and the atmosphere is intense. Now, all of us sense the evil just outside our doorstep. The dark red cloud is directly above us. Everyone looks to Thorne and Caronel for leadership while Evka and Antoine keep morale up. Varric, while being easy-going, is very much battle-ready now.

The darkspawn slowly creep through the village like a dark carpet of disease and corruption. We hear the deafening screeches of shrieks in the distance and see various hurlocks and genlocks make their way between the buildings. At this point, a thought comes to us, one we share with Caronel. Holy shit, that’s a lot of darkspawn. And no sign of Janos yet. Where is he? Where are the other Wardens? Surely this can’t be less than the bulk of the horde yet. This is almost like a new Blight.

A horrifying thought grips us and we quickly sense into the Taint for any signs of an Archdemon’s song. To our relief, we hear nothing. The relief is short-lived, however, as the darkspawn reach the stronghold and send in a wave of shrieks to scale the walls.

We engage in a properly gritty fight against the darkspawn and can make use of several ballistae on the battlements. But we quickly realise that this place is just not at all well-prepared. Evka and Antoine’s pre-defences, alongside our inspection, are all that’s keeping this place from being overrun. Why is this in such a shoddy condition?

We then hear fighting from the basement. Ah, so the darkspawn did attempt to dig through. Good that we halted their progress by mending that crack, giving us time to respond.

We head into the basement and confront some hurlocks and genlocks. After the skirmish, we sent several grenades into the tunnel below, causing it to collapse without damaging our infrastructure too much.

Returning to the courtyard, we see something strange. A few of the shrieks have reached a group of villagers, but instead of slaying them, they’re trying to abduct them alive. While this wouldn’t be strange if all villagers were female, given that darkspawn need broodmothers to multiply, they are taking the men, too. What…?

We make short work of the darkspawn, and at this point, some of our newly joined Wardens have fallen, but only the Wardens. Now would be a really good time for Janos to show up.

At this moment, we hear loud dum, dum, dum. Huge footsteps approach. We look at each other and have all the same reaction: Ah shit.

The gates to the courtyard break down and a huge ogre walks in. Oh boy, here we go. Now would be a really good time for Janos to show up!

We take down the ogre with great difficulty and see that another large influx of darkspawn follows. After dealing with those, the fighting ceases for a moment.

We head to the battlements and see another group on the outskirts of the village. Then we remember the huge loose rock. Oh yeah, baby.

We quickly load up a ballista and aim across the village, towards the jagged cliff. It takes three shots for the edge to become lose enough, but it works. The huge rock collapses upon the newly approaching darkspawn horde, squashing them all beneath, but taking some of Lavendel’s houses with it.

The relief is short-lived, however, as we can still sense the Taint in our heads. Further away, past the outskirts of the village, we can already see a new horde of darkspawn amassing. And still no sign of Janos.

We gather a quick emergency meeting between the Wardens, and some start speculating that…Janos might not be showing up. Evka and Antoine are of the same belief, while Caronel holds on to the hope that reinforcements are on their way. Why wouldn’t they be? Wardens stick together.

But what about us? What do we believe? Janos personally recruited us all those years ago, he personally saw to our training. Why would he…but where is he then? Why isn’t he coming? Maybe he was held up? But by what? Was there another darkspawn horde on the other side of the hills? But why can’t we sense them? In fact…why can’t we sense any other Wardens in the immediate vicinity aside from us?

Wherever Janos might be, we have to hold out on our own. But if the darkspawn keep coming, we won’t hold out at all eventually. And if the Wardens die, the villagers will be…what exactly? Killed? Or taken? No villager has died so far. Why is that? What’s going on here?

Eventually, Thorne concludes that if we are to survive, we must seal that damn entrance ourselves.

But how will we go about this? Do we take all Wardens with us, or just a few?

Take all Wardens to the Deep Roads entrance. The villagers are exposed but the darkspawn may be largely drawn to us given that they haven’t even as much as injured anyone else yet.

Take Evka and Antoine and leave Caronel and the other Wardens with the villagers.

No matter what we choose, we are going against the First Warden’s orders to not leave Lavendel under any circumstances until reinforcements arrive. And at this point, if we are to survive, we have no other choice. We tell Caronel and the other Wardens to secure the villagers’ retreat from Lavendel, while Thorne, Evka and Antoine head off to seal the entrance to the Deep Roads. Caronel is hesitant at first but comes to agree with you. In Death, sacrifice, true, but the sacrifice has to mean something. Varric offers to accompany us but since he’s no Warden, we refuse. He’s more useful with protecting the villagers without risking getting instantly blighted.

Approaching the Crack

With Evka and Antoine at our side, along with several grenades from the stronghold, we head across the dark hills. A few darkspawn break off from the main horde and try to stop us, but we make short work of them.

After a few short skirmishes, we reach the entrance to the Deep Roads, a very steep crack located between two rocky hills. It is guarded by two ogres. The rest of the horde have already departed for Lavendel. It’s now or never. We might be fewer but two ogres…we can take them. Maybe.

We throw ourselves into a fight with the two giants and slay them after exchanging some fierce blows.

Now that we have a short breathing moment, we must quickly go about sealing that entrance. However, looking at it reveals that we can only collapse it by doing so from below. No use doing it from up here. But this action would cause the Warden who does it to be trapped.

We look at Evka and Antoine and order them to give us the grenades. They initially refuse but we remind them that as Warden Thorne, we have been given charge of this mission. It’s either us or no-one. We take the grenades and bid farewell to our favourite Warden couple, ordering them to return to the others. We then recite the oath of the Grey Wardens between us. “In Peace, Vigilance,” says Antoine. “In War, Victory,” says Evka. “In Death, Sacrifice,” says Thorne.

The Deep Roads

We descent into the cavern and find ourselves immediately struck by an overwhelming sense of the Taint. There are more darkspawn here, and they are coming.

We quickly go about preparing the grenades, when we are suddenly stricken by a strange sense. It is similar to the Taint, but also different, almost…purer. Suddenly, we become incredibly aware of the cavern around us. We can sense each layer, each type, each consistency. We can sense hidden passages, the tunnels the Darkspawn are digging right now. And we feel…whole, strangely so. And this is only something we experience if we picked a dwarven Thorne, for we are experiencing Stone Sense.

At this moment, a figure approaches us from the dark, followed by darkspawn. We look up and see a tall, cloaked being, wearing dark armour that we can’t recognise. We can definitely sense the Blight in it, but it’s…weirdly different in a way we can’t describe. The figure has veins of lyrium writhing all around its form, red lyrium.

It speaks to us, but we can only hear its voice in our head. It asks us to stop, to let be done what must be done. When we ask who and what this thing is, it simply refers to itself as “The Emissary”. While the Emissary won’t tell us exactly why it wants the villagers, it hints at a great and regrettable mistake that has to be rectified before it’s all too late.

Being the Warden we are, we attempt to still go through with our grenade plan, but the Emissary casts a spell of pure, raw magic on us, causing us to be knocked against a wall. But we refuse to go down fighting and challenge the Emissary to a one on one.

Similar with Laskaris in the Shadow Dragon origin, the Emissary is a fight we aren’t meant to win. But if we lower its HP to 0, the cutscene will be a little different.

In our seemingly dying breath, we hurl the grenades against the weakest parts of the crack, which we can clearly determine due to our Stone Sense. The Emissary howls in fury as the rocks descend upon us, sealing the Deep Roads off of Lavendel for good. All turns black around us.

Saved

But strangely enough, this isn’t the end. We wake up back in Lavendel and see Varric. He says he followed us in secret as he had a feeling we might be needing assistance. When Evka and Antoine showed up without us, he increased his pace and the three made it just in time. Varric climbed down and found us in the rubble, saving us from certain death.

Evka and Antoine join us and profusely apologise for leaving our side, despite us ordering them to do so. Well, it seems the Wardens in general have a feeling for disobedience as of lately.

When we inquire about Lavendel, we are told that everyone is save and none have been taken. This is because of the time we took to explore the place before the battle. By sealing the basement and collapsing the great rock, the darkspawns’ numbers were too few for what came next.

But…what came next? We find out the moment we walk outside.

A whole entourage of Wardens hurry about Lavendel. The reinforcements arrived after all. Or so we think.

High Constable Janos and the First Warden approach us. When we remark on the lateness of the reinforcements, the First Warden orders us imprisoned. What? Why? For disobedience, of course. We see that Janos is uncomfortably silent during this exchange.

But we saved Lavendel. We repelled the darkspawn horde and sealed the entrance to the Deep Roads. What could he possibly be so mad about? It can’t just be about disobedience, right?

Well…as we slowly, horrifyingly learn from the conversation, Lavendel wasn’t meant to survive. All who were there, Wardens and villagers alike, were supposed to fall to the darkspawn.

Here we get the context: the Calling has been manifesting in more and more older Wardens. At the same time, Weisshaupt is receiving fewer and fewer recruits. This combination will eventually have the effect of the order facing extinction. And outside the Anderfels, the Right of Conscription means less than nothing now. The world has grown complacent in a world without the Blight, even though the recent one has only been twenty years ago. And the Anderfels doesn’t have a large enough population to feed the ranks on its own.

By using this abnormally large darkspawn horde, letting it consume villagers and Wardens alike, the First Warden hoped to convince the nobility to encourage greater recruitment again. It can’t be a coincidence that the Calling has been manifesting increasingly more frequent now.

But Thorne has been a thorn in this plan’s side and ensured that the First Warden’s plan backfired spectacularly.

Shocked, we turn to Janos and ask him if he was aware of this. Yes, he was. In Death, Sacrifice. In War, Victory. And the war isn’t over as long as Razikale and Lusacan still slumber beneath the surface.

Caronel has been stripped off his rank as Warden-Commander of the Anderfels and Evka and Antoine will be assigned to very far-away duties for the foreseeable future. Thorne, however, as the instigator of this chaos, is to be tried for disobedience and treason.

This is where we can lash out, accusing the First Warden of having lost his way. We can also add that Lavendel’s villagers wouldn’t have died anyway as the Emissary wanted to collect them. When we tell the Wardens of what we saw beneath the surface, the First Warden, as we would assume, does not believe us, assuming we’re using this as a convenient excuse to paint ourselves in a more heroic image. Janos, however, knows us, so he isn’t so sure.

At this point, Varric chimes in and argues against trial and imprisonment, stating it as just a waste of effort. Instead, he offers to take Thorne away for a matter of great importance. The First Warden objects, stating that Weisshaupt’s affairs are to remain its own. Janos, however, in a change of tone, takes Varric’s side. Whatever Thorne’s reasonings are, one can’t deny that we are a true Warden. NO matter the disobedience, we fought against the Blight and won. There will be other opportunities to gather more recruits, but we do not deserve a trial for doing what we joined the order for.

The First Warden eventually relents. Remember, he is still a Grey Warden, with Thedas’ best interest at heart. Him doing this whole Lavendel thing was him acting out of desperation to keep the order alive in the long run. The morality is incredibly questionable, he’s definitely an asshole, but he is not heartless. Rather than putting us in chains, the First Warden suspends us from all Weisshaupt duties and instead tasks us with travelling the lands, searching for new recruits until further notice. Dismissed.

Leaving Lavendel

When the First Warden leaves, Janos makes an attempt at conversing with us, apologising for sending us into death. We can be either understanding, or angry, or just hurt. Despite our rough exterior, we are hurt because Janos was the one who saved us from another execution in the first place. Janos definitely feels bad about it, but orders were orders. Yeah…orders were orders, we respond.

Varric approaches us and confesses that he’s not here by accident. He’s looking for someone among the Wardens to accompany him on a very special mission of the utmost importance. He heard from some of his contacts that Lavendel would have fitting candidates. And he is certain he just found the one. What exactly are we doing, now that we’re stuck with him? Varric promises to reveal everything in good time. Now, he would very much like to get out of this place. We can either go immediately or have some final conversations. Being the completionists we are, we of course choose the latter.

We can talk to Evka and Antoine and just be glad that we’re all still alive, despite being given rather shitty jobs now. Well, that’s a no on the promotion for now, right? But we’re confident we’ll see each other sooner rather than later.

Caronel honestly doesn’t even care about his demotion. He’s just glad he survived and is now able to return to Valya. But if he were still Warden-Commander, he would make us Senior Warden in a heartbeat. Sometimes, one simply has to defy orders.

We can talk to Mila, who excitedly announces that her father has taken Janos’ offer to be Weisshaupt’s new blacksmith, given that the fortress desperately needs one again.

The Wardens who were under our command during the battle look up to us in awe and call us a hero and inspiration, no matter what the First Warden says. They actually pretty much despise him now as he was so willing to just let them die.

Once all of this is done, we head to Varric and and half-enthusiastically announce our readiness to depart. Varric smiles and welcomes us to the team. What team? Oh, we’ll see. But he recommends us going by another name for the foreseeable future as the First Warden might just be petty enough to make our life more difficult by telling foreign Wardens or members of the nobility about our streak of disobedience and conspiracy theories. Well, that’s easy enough, we say, back in the Dornen, the others used to call us “Rook” for that one time we headed straight in and brought down a very well-connected Hossberg nobleman. “The strongest piece on the chessboard,” Varric chuckles. “I like it.”

Now going by Rook once again, we head off with Varric. As Lavendel is nearly out of sight, we turn around and look at the gathered Wardens one last time. This…is not how we pictured leaving the order one day. But no, we haven’t left it. We’re just…taking a vacation. With a heavy heart, we turn back to Varric and follow him into the unknown.

And that’s it for this one! Now we have our Grey Warden Rook origin story. It’s a lot, I know, but the Wardens have a lot of material to work with. And the whole plot surrounding the Emissary will make sense later, I promise.

Next time we shall be heading off into Arlathan Forest to draft a potential Veil Jumper origin story! Stay tuned!

[klaunee]

Helluva Boss Sin Concepts

Been working on these concepts for a little while and was hoping to share them before the new episode dropped but I underestimated when it would be released. :'D

Nonetheless here are some rough concepts for my personal interpretations of the unseen Sins. They're very rough and I'd need to work more on them to fully capture the ideas I had in mind but I wanted to share them nonetheless. Haven't seen the episode yet but I'm going to go watch it after I write all this out.

Design notes below the cut. (long post!)

Each Sin is inspired by a different circus act since this motif is already incorporated into the canon designs of the other Sins. They're all meant to look like rulers, so I tried to factor crowns/capes into each design in some way.

Satan

Satan's overall design is inspired by circus strongmen! His outfit and physique are mainly inspired by Louis Cyr.

His other inspiration is the red dragon in Revelation 12. This dragon is described as having seven heads, so I wanted to incorporate seven head symbols into his design.

I wanted him to have a ball and chain as a weapon and as a symbol of punishment. The idea is that he carries a ball which is so heavy that no other demon in Hell can lift it. Normally he walks with a slow gait to suggest that he's burdened by the ball and chain, but it's actually a powerful weapon he can wield. Initially this ball and chain was a separate element (top left) but I'm considering having his tail built like a flail instead (somewhat inspired by Anklyosaurs).

He's meant to look like a thorny devil because I thought that was funny and would help incorporate the idea of the dragon from Revelation 12 having many "horns".

He's also meant to look like a longhorn cattle to fit the Western motif in the Wrath ring. His cape is meant to look like the poncho worn by Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly to further this motif.

Somewhat unintentionally, his horns look like flexing arms.

It's up to viewer interpretation whether he is wearing a striped undershirt or if his chest is just sticking out.

He ended up looking sort of like a luchador/masked wrestler, but that wasn't intentional. However I think it's fitting and I might run with it if/when I finalize the design.

Belphegor

Belphegor is meant to be a magician! She has a top-hat and a lab-coat with coat-tails. The patterning of her fur is meant to look like a tuxedo, though the cummerbund and bowtie are (probably) actual clothing. The giant syringe is meant to be like a cane (I'm imagining her moving like a sleepier Fred Astaire when engaged in combat).

Her other main inspiration is goats, and by extension Baphomet.

I wanted her to look like a lop rabbit to suit the magician theme but she is 100% a goat. Her ears are inspired by Gulabi goats and her tail isn't an actual cotton tail, it's just a goat tail curled to the side.

Hypnotic spirals are a major shape element here.

Even though she looks more "angelic" than the other Sins, she is absolutely evil. My idea for her is that she's a scientific genius who synthesizes drugs with the ultimate purpose of creating a society which is so streamlined and sedated that she never has to do anything.

I definitely intend to make drastic changes to this concept. I want to make her look more like a nerd/loser, as she's intended to be a reclusive shut-in. I might give her swirly glasses in the end.

The giant syringe she carries is her weapon. Her primary method of attack is probably either to sedate her opponents or cause them to see illusions (or perhaps a mix of both).

Leviathan

Leviathan is meant to be a puppeteer/ventriloquist. Their abilities stem around manipulating their environment (including possessing other entities), but their entire body is essentially a puppet act as well. The idea I had in mind was that Leviathan was born as a weak sea krait-like creature who went into hiding out of fear. It wasn't clear who the prince of Envy was for a while, so Envy demons fought each other for control of the ring. Eventually one demon assumed control, at which point Leviathan parasitized that demon and assumed its body for their own. Leviathan's body contains millions of souls which they have consumed since the creation of Hell, which were then turned into plankton-like organisms. Leviathan can use these souls to manipulate the environment (as visualized by the green "fish" at their side, which are actually comprised of several smaller organisms).

Leviathan's design is inspired by several sea creatures, namely sea kraits, oarfish, dragonfish, and lampreys. Their overall theme is also inspired by whale falls, the remains of whales which attract several other organisms and create small ecosystems.

Leviathan can swim, fly, and move like a serpent on land without having to modify their tail to be like legs. My idea for the Envy ring is that Envy demons assume mermaid-like forms while in the Envy ring but can assume legs outside of it. However, Leviathan is always in serpent form.

At first I was going to make Leviathan green but I realized by the appearance of the rings in that one app that was shown a while ago that they would probably be purple. But I still wanted to incorporate green into the design.

The "fin" on their back is comprised of fire.

[hackedmotionsensors]

this is personal so please don't reblog this bc I think its weird when I say personal stuff and people reblog it I feel like i shouldn't have to turn that setting on?? Lol

but...both of my parents are seniors. And neither one of them are doing very well health wise. My mom has nerve issues with her hand, diabetes and bad blood pressure, and has had multiple heart attacks, My dad had a fall and never really recovered and had some weird medical problems that we thought were strokes but they never confirmed it. He also got covid at the hospital for those problems so THANKS arizona hospitals

Anyway I get all that. And I wish i could help or be around more. But unfortunately my job (unless we get some cool changes in the agreement) require me to live in LA. I also LIKE living in LA (surprisingly with how much I hate traffic LOL)

But I always get SO STRESSED OUT during the holidays bc I visit them and I need to cross reference with my brother (but again he might not even CARE or be aware that this is happening bc...he just...kinda doesn't care when it happens and I DO see it). I need to ask him or his wife if this happens when I'm NOT here because I have a feeling it gets WORSE when I visit.

But each time I visit my mom finds a way to be a complete and utter bitch at my dad. And my dad IS frustrating. I totally get it. He's always been really frustrating but now its like...frustrating bc he does things that could endanger himself or chooses ways to not make things easier for himself out of pride or just being a senior and not wanting to admit stuff? Idk. I know its a fairly common thing. He also got phone scammed a few months back out of 7k$ and we all were like WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. He doesn't even like paying for COFFEE or good food for himself but LIED TO THE BANK to take out the money when they were like "This sounds like a scam sir" .....SO I GET IT. TRUST ME I GET IT.

But Thanksgiving was mostly good! Last Christmas (lol) I was stressed myself bc I was out of a job for a whole year and had to prep for a con and my car was on its last legs and like I said I just...get stressed LOL Its why i always drive. If I need to bail I absolutely will. Our family has NEVER been good during holidays. Its a lot of abused and abusive people with varying levels of addictions or mental illnesses (is it ANXIETY acting up this year? Or adhd induced RAGE from being overwhelmed! Has someone had TOO MUCH WINE and decided instead of being silly that they want to FIGHT!??! WHO CAN SAY!?!? ITS ANYONE'S GUESS!!!)

And Mom was just RELENTLESS last year. ANYTHING my dad did was a problem. ANYTHING he did...EXISTING...in a place he wasn't supposed to was like...a huge slight against her and because I had the audacity to be like "Mom relax. He's not doing anything" it meant I wasn't on her side or was insulting her or SOMETHING. And it completely blew out between me and her to the point she called my sister crying to try and be like LYDIA'S BEING HORRIBLE AND HATES ME ND SHE CALLED ME A BITCH(which I didn't but i VERYYYY nearly did because she was being a bitch) and like ...my sister is YOUNGER THAN ME LMAO. So my sister texted me like "what happened??" and I told her and she was like...AH. Okay I get it. Because my mom USED to live with her too but she pitched a fit at her and decided to basically run away from living with my sister and move in with her cousin. Then she left there (which honestly seemed the most stable?) and moved in with her sister. And she hated that too.(Running theme in this family is that my aunt is an ACTUAL bitch and I've known that since she came into the bathroom one time when I was sitting on the toilet bc I ran past her on the way into the house bc i REALLY had to pee and she came INTO the bathroom to scream at me for being rude.......but anyway) And then she ended up moving back in with my dad (They aren't married its just...basically roommates LMAO)

She hated living with my brother. My mom is like me. She's basically like a beta fish. She'll just bite the shit out of anything in her tank. I used to live with her and hated it.

LOL OKAY ANYWAY LONG STORY BUT basically....it was a fairly good holiday this time in comparison. I also left after a single day lol Bc I hate thanksgiving to begin with. Not 100% related to my family. I just think the holiday is stupid and pre-gaming christmas and a huge waste of money for someone who travels bc I'm gonna see all these maniacs in three weeks anyway.

I also had a deadline so I had a really good excuse to dip. Thank god.

But bc my parents helped me last year a lot I was like Let me do something REALLY minimal and take y'all out to breakfast. And on the way there my mom is sitting in the back seat behind my dad. My dad uses a cane but she doesn't like sitting in the front anyway. But she was sitting behind him and suddenly 'THE CAR SMELLS'.

Me genuinely thinking something was wrong like maybe I left the travel jerky i bought to eat on the way open. Or maybe I randomly smelled. Its a new car but I'm so used to my old car than anything potentially a problem is a stressor. But no. It was a not subtle way of bitching about my dad. And I was like....okay whatever let it go. Dad didn't say anything so lets just ignore it. Its only another hour or so. And then we get to the restaurant we were going to. My dad and I both get eggs and I ask if she can pass the ketchup. She hands ME the ketchup no problem. Then my dad uses it and sets it on the table. Pretty normal.

This is a thing ~I~ like to do. I like to put the condiments back in the holder thingies. Its not a deal breaker but its like...just a thing. Why have another thing in the way when we can put the ketchup back. So I can't reach it so I'm like "Mom can you tuck this back into the thing" "No. I don't want germs".

I knew exactly what she was doing and was like "Just put it back. I like to put them back." "NO. Its dirty. People touch it"

By this point the vein in my forehead is already throbbing. I go FINE. ITS FINE. I know exactly who you mean. And honestly I'm sure my dad does too and is just.....getting through it. I KNOW she's trying to rile ME up. She picks like a little fly at my dad all the time and its not to get a rile out of him bc she knows he won't really do anything about it. Unless she's hoping he'll blow up eventually and die. IDK (It might not be that drastic BUT Y'NEVER KNOW!!!)

So I let it go. And then she does that thing that bullys or abusers or idk what to even call this but she's done it to me HER WHOLE LIFE. She starts trying to act cute. "Can I have a bite of your eggs Lilly <3"

me "No. I don't want germs"

And now mom is mad. Not a total blow out but I know she's pissed at that. And I don't want this to totally melt down so i offer her the eggs if she really wants but she's already in a snit. THANKFULLY!!!!!!!!!! it blows over. Probably due it it being a massive carb bomb after yesterday's carb bomb. So before we head out I'm like Can you put the ketchup back now? I wanna put the syrup back too. SHE HUFFS. GOES "FINE" and picks it up as if it was covered in dog shit by the tip of her fingers.

AND I AM SCREAMING IN MY HEAD

THAT THIS IS WORSE THAN CHILDREN. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW. And she goes back into 1) doing NOT SO SUBTLE jabs at my dad. Using old insults she's always used but not SAYING its because my dad touched it but that PEOPLE touched it. BITCH YOU TOUCHED IT FIRST AND THEN ATE YOUR FOOD. She only washed her hands before eating bc she went to the bathroom AND she never wears a mask. You give two fucks about germs.

And then she has the audacity to say to me "THATS WHAT WAITRESSES ARE FOR"

which is A HUGE FUCKING TRIGGER FOR ME BC I USED TO WORK IN SERVICE. AND SO DOES SHE. IT DOESN'T ~MATTER~ WHAT THEIR JOB DESCRIPTION IS. IT HURTS ~NO~ ~ONE~ to pick up after yourself A LITTLE. Its just putting the ketchup BACK in the FUCKING CONTAINER. ALSO. WE VISIBLY SAW HOW SWAMPED THEY WERE. Its Black Friday they were hauling ass that day and we didn't end up waiting SO long but it was definitely a wait bc of how busy it was. So you're gonna make this lady who was ONLY NICE TO US. Didn't charge me an extra coffee bc I'm a mad lass who had a latte and a black coffee lmao AND She was Latina. Was there not some....Latina togetherness!??! HELLO!??? Very Mexican't mom. (we're not Mexican lmao)

And then on the drive home god I don't even remember exactly what it was bc the blood was in my ears and I was just trying to get them home so i could leave. She said something else that was VERY POINTEDLY about my dad and called it "PEOPLE" again. Like he's not stupid cmon man.

Like just for NO REASON. NOTHING my dad did had anything to really set her off on this. She was just being MEAN to be MEAN. And she KNOWS i hate it.

When i grew up I was always a lot closer to my dad and I can empathize with that. But...idk man we just had more in common? Even if she wasn't working super hard to make ends meet and he was middle class like I GET IT.

But there's resentment and just being a fucking bitch for no reason.

And again this is not to say like Oh my dad the poor uwu old man always getting beat up wah wah wah. Bc again he does a LOT to frustrate me on like...a blood pressure exploding way. But for him its just like...why would you DO THAT. Like we were in the middle of a walk with the family (my brothers family and me and the parents) and he goes OH YEAH LYDIA I MEANT TO SAY....You owe me money for the phone. Which was so fucking embarassing like why would you SAY THAT!?!?! Like i was so frustrated and like ugh. LOL And a thing my mom gets at my dad about is she's like "I SEE SENIORS ALL THE TIME OLDER THAN YOUR DAD THAT RUN MARATHONS" or whatever nonsense. And I'm like mom YOU can't even run a marathon or do half the thing these people say but also SOME PEOPLE ARE DIFFERENT!?!?!? My dad had a pretty bad fall a while back and never really recovered from it. So its really frustrating when he CARRIES AROUND HIS CANE or chooses to not bring it with him...and he just...doesn't use it. Like literally I was like Dad you have to USE your cane to stand up and walk not just carry it around like a purse. "Its a psychological thing more than anything" *cue me bursting all the blood vessels in my brain* and my mom being like SEE!? I have to deal with this ALL THE TIME. *shakes desk* BUT YOU MAKE THINGS WORSE BY BEING A BITCH AT THE SAME TIME AGHHHHHHH

I just....genuinely wish I had normal parents and a normal holiday get together instead of dreading the end of the year that its something I HAVE to do because I genuinely love these people but the drive back my chest hurt, my head hurt, my throat hurt from ranting in my car my JAW hurt from clenching it from stress.

Like at this rate I'm gonna die before they do holy shit. And I think also because they're seniors and in bad health that I worry about them at the same time because....its not fair to either of them that they had to end up moving in together (It ends I think in march thankfully) and because they're seniors that I know...well this could be the last holiday i spend with them. So I make the effort, risk the covid and just go visit them when i can. But holy fucking shit.

lmao my mom LITERALLY just called me now like MY GODDDDDD LMAO HOW DID SHE KNOWWWWWW

[gimmeurmoneyagh]

a slight deepdive of Priscilla’s relationship with Jamil!!

(just the parts i wanna yap about anyway LMAOO)

tw: ooc Jamil 💔💔💔, Pr*scilla

FIRST YEAR:

In all honesty they didn’t care much about eachother, they passed by sometimes but they didn’t know eachother.

Until... Kalim.

Kalim is a key factor in their relationship as Priscilla used to have a ’crush’ on him.

And what better to do then use his servant to get closer to him! Who coincidently is also in the same class as her!

Why if she doesn’t use this great oppurtunity she might as well die! After all the Al-Asim’s are known for their money and wealth....

She might as well! She really doesn’t have any choice 😢😢😢!!

And of course Jamil knows what she’s doing its extremely obvious (no. no it is not) and hates her ugly dumb ahh (my words).

So she flirts, she invites him out to parties, she gives him stuff. Yet... It doesn’t work?? It’s supposed to work!

And she can’t help but find that interesting...

SECOND YEAR:

❥-PRE-BOOK 5~

After Jamil’s overblot Priscilla was all over him. And Jamil was extremely annoyed.

She kept bothering him about helping him walk and stupid stuff like that.

He kept telling her off and she was so smitten.

He called her an idiot?? KYAAA 💘💘💘!!

He called her annoying and a brat?? HER HEART 💗💗💗!!!

❥-BOOK 5~

THIS was the part their whole relationship changed.

Before Priscilla just annoyed him and he was so annoyed by her.

She auditioned because she heard Jamil was also auditioning (simp) and got in!

Let me tell how much he was plotting her murder. She kept buying him snake themed stuff like figurines so he could decorate Ramshackle (not even letting Yumi have a say but ok...).

But however one night Jamil woke up in the middle of the night with a headache. A bad headache.

He went to the kitchen to make some tea and found Priscilla hunched over the kitchen counter.

She was looking at something… But he didn’t exactly know what so he was about to leave… until he heard sniffling.

Being better than Priscilla (🥰🥰🥰)he (unfortunately) made her tea to drink and stood next to her while she cried.

They became more friendly, even though he was still annoyed by her ugly bitchass (his words this time).

POST-NRC:

SO UHH this is when their relationship went DOWNHILL 😭😭😭 LMAOO

After NRC, they got into a relationship.

WHICH ENDED IN PRISCILLA BREAKING UP WITH HIM.

Why?? Because she was bored of him. She was bored of she had become.

tagging.....

@anonymousplant @v4mpiior @angelwishess @screamintoad @lallopsyou pspspsps

[talkfastcal]

hmm

[cangrellesteponme]

i don't think wonderland is ready for those alices

[devilsskettle]

The X trilogy + "psycho-biddy" influences

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[lights-at-night]

i might be shot but tbh i think fiction podcasts have an issue with racial representation