#Or let you all just bloody each other up and tend to everyone's wounds to remind you have lucky you are I care for pets

[timefall-if]

DEMO (prologue / 11th of January 2025) || An IF based on & inspired by the show "Arcane". Time Fall is a drama interactive fiction story with steampunk & cyberpunk elements, set in the dual state-cities of Delphora and Draeken, also known as The Spire and The Depths. It's meant to follow complicated relationships, complicated choices, and complicated consequences. It is written with an 18+ audience in mind due to heavy themes and topics such as death, use of drugs and alcohol, swearing, violence, (optional & skippable) explicit sexual content etc.

Time does not wait for anyone, even for the one that controls it.

After the bloody aftermath of Draeken's rebellion against Delphora, you're left an orphan. Your mother lies dead beneath a pile of bodies, crushed under the boots of the Time Watchers, and your older brother, Mylo, is nowhere to be found. Bruised and scared, you're taken in by Marek, your mother's friend, together with a few other strays he managed to catch hiding in the shadows of the night.

As Marek tends to your wounds and wipes away your tears, the Council of the Eternals, forever holed up in their lavish upper city, is falling apart. They are in complete mayhem and disarray as, unbeknownst to you, one of the five time shards that keep the heart of the city—the Clocktower—working in tune with time's balance has been stolen.

Oddly enough, that lost shard looks suspiciously similar to the strange shiny stone your mother gave you and your brother right before the doomed uprising. With it gone, the flow of time grows slippery and erratic, as the Clocktower starts to decay without its missing piece.

Life in the undercity of Draeken, also known as The Depths, is brutal enough. But when an ill-fated encounter leaves you forever altered—your blood itself changed—you’ll soon realize that time is strange, and the thin fabric of reality a fickle thing. Even more so when it’s something you can no longer just witness ... but may be forced to control.

༒︎ Fully customizable MC including: pronouns, gender, physical appearance, personality, sexuality etc.

༒︎ Choose 1 out of 5 occupations for your MC: underground pit fighter, street artist, black market medic, inventor, or dingy bar singer.

༒︎ Romance 1 out of 4 love interests, all of which are gender-selectable. Engage in hookups with other side characters.

༒︎ Find your brother, or let him find you.

༒︎ Go through an unimaginable physiology-changing experiment and manage to keep your sanity, or become completely unrecognizable to those closest to you.

༒︎ Betray the people you care about or protect them at all costs.

༒︎ Explore the dual state-cities of Delphora and Draeken on a steampunk/cyberpunk background.

༒︎ Become the hero everyone wants you to be, a new world order dictator, or God :D

Maddox / Maxine (M/F) - Rough around the edges and with a body built for combat, M's very demeanour and appearance reflects years of hard living together with you in Draeken. Taken in by Marek after the failed uprising, M had grown overbearingly protective of you on the very first night of sharing a bed with each other as kids. Now, all grown up, M fights in Marek's underground fighting pit to earn their keep, but with every bloodied knuckle, their anger grows—anger at the scraps their people are handed by Delphora’s elite. M is ready to make a change. Are you?

— Possible (romance) routes: Best Friends to Lovers / Best Friends to FWB to Lovers / Best Friends to Lovers to Enemies / Best Friends to Enemies

Riven / Raven (M/F) - A street-smart wildcard loyal only to the highest bidder, R lives by a simple rule: survive and have a good time while doing it. So they smuggle goods and sell information to whoever pays the most. R is not above double-crossing anyone, and they don’t pretend to be. Always charming, confident, and looking at you like they want to take your pants off any second, you’ll have to find out if R is worthy of your trust, or if they’re truly incapable of not betraying those they care about.

— Possible (romance) routes: FWB to Lovers / FWB to Friends / Lovers to Enemies / FWB to Enemies

Seraphim / Seraphina Vaughn (M/F) - The strangest person you have met down in The Depths, and that’s saying something. S is sweet, about as intimidating as a puppy, with a wide and bright smile and … clothes that sometimes seem to be too well tailored to their frame with golden silky linings that make them stand out in ways they’re trying to hide. They’re a people pleaser at heart, but S’s thinly veiled ambition and naivety about the streets of Draeken makes you wonder about their intentions. They seem to be attached to you from the moment you meet. Can you figure out the catch, or will your trust come back to bite you?

— Possible (romance) routes : Friends to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / Friends to Enemies

Cassian / Calypso Kazimier (M/F) - C’s deep sense of superiority and disdain for The Depths is reflected clearly on their sharp and cold face, their commanding presence demanding respect and authority with every move. As the most influential member of the Order of the Eternals, C makes it their very purpose to ensure that no one can challenge their rule, and that any threat to their control is dealt with swiftly and without mercy. What happens when that threat might be you? C is untouchable, they will make sure to squash you with their own hands. Unless …

— Possible (romance) routes : Corruption Arc / Enemies to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers to Enemies

DISCLAIMER: this is a project in early progress, meaning that there are things that might be subject to change later on.

LINKS: cog forum || character intros (soon) || other project || neon dividers credits

[peppermintmochafem]

Would you let me play with some of the other pets in here, if they'd also like that? I'm sure you could match me with another puppy and we could playfight, get some of that energy out. You could watch and make sure it doesn't go too far. If you wouldn't encourage that, I mean.

Awww what are a good reminder that you are just entertainment for me to use and enjoy 🥰

[evajzcks]

shattering control ── tom riddle x reader

summary: tom gets in a fight for you for the first time and you help him clean his wounds

warnings: none? grumpy tom x sunshine reader

word count: idk but it is short

everything happened so fast. one moment, he was standing in the hallway, and the next, he was throwing punches at the guy who was trying to get your attention.

tom wasn’t an impulsive man. he never acted on impulse. everything he did was calculated, controlled, and with the intention of achieving something. but the moment he saw the discomfort on your face and the way the ravenclaw was grabbing your arm, he lost it.

“hey, I’m trying to talk to you,” you said when you noticed tom wasn’t listening to you.

“i’m listening,” tom muttered, still lost in his thoughts.

his hands were still shaking from adrenaline. when he closed his eyes, he could still see the red that blinded him the moment he lost control.

“you’re clearly not. otherwise, you would’ve sat on the bed already,” you said, rolling your eyes. “you’re just standing there like a creep.”

after tom finally came back to his senses, you brought him to your room and tried to clean his knuckles. but he just stood there, staring at his bloodied hands.

your relationship with tom wasn’t a secret to anyone. most of the time, the two of you were together after being paired up in defense against the dark arts class. it all started with silent study sessions in the library, both of you enjoying the other’s presence. then came lingering looks, followed by little touches here and there.

while you were energetic, bright, and talkative, tom was calm, controlled, and dark. yet somehow, your contrasting personalities seemed to complement each other perfectly.

“i was just thinking,” tom finally said after a moment, sitting on your bed and watching as you grabbed what looked like a first-aid kit.

“care to share your thoughts?” you asked, softly taking his hands and beginning to clean his wounds with care.

“i don’t know what happened to me,” he admitted quietly. the way you were tending to his hands, the fight, the blur in his head—it all felt too overwhelming.

tom hadn’t been raised with a family, nor had he ever cared about anyone but himself. that was, until you came into his life. now, the rage that consumed him when he saw the guy with you felt like it was tearing down the control he’d spent years mastering, along with the walls he’d built around his emotions.

“why don’t you use magic?” tom asked, watching you with a soft but puzzled expression. “it’s more efficient.”

“but it’s less caring,” you replied, kissing his hands gently. “and clearly, you feel something very strong for me, considering you just got into your first fight over a girl and almost killed a classmate.”

“if i acted with control, i probably would’ve done worse,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he noticed the smile tugging at your lips.

“oh yes, you would’ve hexed him!”

“worse…” he murmured, disgusted with his actions. if he’d waited, he might have ended up tossing a body into the black lake by now.

“he was bothering me, but you know you can’t just kill everyone, right?” you teased, starting to clean the small bruise on his lip. “i’ll kiss it better.”

“you’re mine, and people should know that,” tom said, pretending to be annoyed by the care you were giving him. “you’ve grown too soft.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you replied, placing a soft kiss on his lips and smiling slightly. “also, you can’t say I’m yours when you won’t even let me call you boyfriend.”

“don’t play with that, Y/N,” he said, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you into his lap, his earlier worries long forgotten. “that term is too mundane. you know we’re past that.”

a/n: this is my first fanfic here on tumblr so let me know if you liked!!!!!!!! i might do a part two but this time longer 😞

[theirnamesarekiklo]

Cold

Tired and damp, the sweet sweet girl could only hold herself

pairing: !Twin Sister! Reader x Sully Family

a/n: this is kinda like at the end of the movies where the whole battle takes place also this was not corrected at all I literally js pulled this out of my ass 😭 (LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LIKES I CANT BELIEVE THIS)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: a lil talk abt suicide, very faint injury desc

⋆★⋆★⋆

Deep pants all around, the only thing on their mind was that they were safe and together. But something deep and churning kept place in Lo’ak’s stomach.

The most common thing between twins in Na’vi culture was that they were more connected than most. They had this special bond that most siblings didn’t obtain. Ever since Lo’ak and his twin sister had been born under the same light, they could feel one-another. They felt each other’s losses, wins, and they especially felt eachother’s heart. So imagine how his heart dropped as soon as he felt alone.

So utterly alone and cold, he felt.

“Dad, where’s y/n?” and everyone’s breath hitched.

— ⋆⋆ —

Gasping for air, she had managed to drag herself on the rough rock, but she couldn’t care less now that she had bigger wounds to tend to. Wheezing out raspy breaths, her shaking hand rested softly on the edge of the blade, the same blade that had pierced her heart. The wound was the biggest one there, despite the bullet hole lodged into her skin.

She wasn’t sure how she felt exactly. Her legs were numb, one of them clearly in no condition to walk with, her face had been covered in dried gore that not even the water could wash off, and her arms were covered in several deep gashes, bruises, and burns. Swallowing the rising blood, she took one more deep breath before her hand gripped the knife, obviously not being enough as the removal was simply worse than the actual wound.

The gruesome scene was surely something, and she was sure that the other guy (who she hadn’t bothered to even learn the name of) had looked worse when she was done with him, but that didn’t stop her from meeting the same fate as he did.

Letting out a scream that truly screamed bloody murder, the girl could only sob and heave and clutch her torn skin that she was sure would get infected if she had even managed to get out of here. What would take her first? Dying of blood loss or dying of infection? Taking a peek at the sky, Her vision was already clouding over. Wincing as she tried getting just a tad bit comfortable on the rock, blood started pooling at the edges of her lips.

Was her older brother okay? She was sure the bullet only grazed him, she took the bullet for him before getting dragged back by the same guy she killed. Most importantly, was her twin brother okay? Was he breathing better than her? Did he carry the same feeling she did at this moment? At this moment, she could recall all the sweet memories she and him shared. They were born together, and she sure was hell glad they didn’t leave the same way, although she wished more than anything that they were right there with her.

Choking out a sob, the girl felt a chill of acceptance run through her. She wouldn’t make it out of this. Even though she was still young and hadn’t completed her Rite of Passage, she knew she was going to die. Curling up into a ball, she felt cold and as if all the thoughts in her head were simply vanishing, the only thing repeating itself were comforting nothings. Clutching at her chest, her slightly parted lips were releasing slow, tiny gasps. Taking one more look at the looming eclipse, she choked back a cry and whispered one last promise to ewya, leaving the world the same way she came into it.

— ⋆⋆ —

“No No No Y/N!”

As the wailing begun, Jake couldn’t help but want to simply shoot himself in the head right now.

Taking one look at her daughter once more, he turned around and crouched down. Taking some shaky gulps of air, he felt as if his world was suddenly closing in on himself. He’s been through this before, only he wasn’t experiencing it directly. Turning his head to take a look at Lo’ak, his heart broke into a million pieces right then and there.

Bringing her hand to his heart, his hands were already covered in her drying blood, trying to gain that silly warmth that everyone felt cover them if they had ever been around her. Whimpering tiny delusions to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sick joke or some type of revenge for all the wrong doings he’s caused in his life. Meeting the eyes of his father, he could tell this was taking somewhat of the same toll on him too.

Trying to let out a few words, only a squeak could be heard before he ran his hand over his face and his his face away from the rest of the grieving children. He had let her die cold and alone.

He had let the sweetest person he had possibly ever met, the one who could do no bad, die stuck in her head and fighting. He wasn’t there to comfort her, caress her face as a distraction from the pain, nothing. If only he had been there sooner, if only he hadn’t betrayed Miles, if only he decided to follow the rules. His babygirl was gone, and the only thing he could do was cower and cry into his hand.

Kiri, who was simply sobbing to herself, truly not even there at the moment, held spider’s hand so tight that he was sure she would break it, but he wasn’t paying attention to that as he shed a wave of tears himself. She was one of the first people to truly accept him into their family and made him feel as if he belonged. Tuk, that poor child, tried laying her head on her older sister’s chest, trying to find a heartbeat, something, to prove that she wasnt really gone forever.

Neytiri, at this point blubbering thing to herself, only calmed down as she took in the peaceful expression on her daughter’s features. She had always been calm, but sometimes the way shadows hit her face showed nothing but a mask. Her eyebrows were always a little tense, but now they rested easily. Her baby, My baby, she thought, was gone. Bringing her face closer to hers, she laid her other hand right onto her cheek. They’ve held each-other like this many times, and to believe that this would be the last was a punch to the gut.

Tsireya, who was weeping right next to Lo’ak, couldn’t help but remember how sweet she was. She had a heart for many, even her brother, who had gone to extreme measures to simply make sure that they hadn’t felt welcome. She recalled the funny and heartwarming, sometimes sad memories that her twin had shared with her, and that only brought more tears to her eyes.

— ⋆⋆ —

The clan was silent.

Both y/n’s ilu and ikran had gone wild, suddenly scurrying off but not without a tiny fight with a few of the men, trying to keep them stable.

Ao’nung, who had seen the whole thing go down, was sure of his reason as to why these things were happening, but he didn’t want to believe himself. He was cruel, desperate to relive himself of these feelings he felt around the doe-eyed girl. Now, as he stood there, rigid and hardly breathing, let out a gasp as he could see a group in the distance.

As people started whispering, they were cut short as his mother let out a tiny noise at the sight of them. Peeking around a shoulder, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. She was there, only not in the condition he hoped and prayed for. She was limp, pale, and completely rid of life as her father carried her in his arms, obviously not ready to accept the fact that she was dead.

Huffing out a “no”, he ran off, shoving people out of his way as his parents focused more on the sobbing daughter that was shown possibly the first heartbreak she had ever experienced. Her oldest brother didn’t know. How would he possibly react to the news that the girl he promised to protect since the moment she was born, was gone?

—…

[with-my-calamitous-love]

trying to put it into words / shining just for you

osamu dazai x reader

thoughts about helping dazai change his bandages. for the yail series 🫧

inspired by mirrorball

he is always running back home to you.

well, not always running. most of the time, he’s in a cab after a night drinking alone. or, he’s walking through the dimly lit streets of yokohama, something he can do as a man. simply put, he’s always returning to you.

he only gets an hour or two of sunshine each day. but its fine by him, if it means he stays handcuffed to you. he adores that smile, and wonders why you go to such great lengths to even catch a glimpse of it- a genuine one, at that.

he’s used to the perfomances, to calling you his pretty baby and giving you kisses on the forehead. he’s used to wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook, whispering some filthy thing about double suicide while complimenting you’re new perfume. he smiles, jokes, and acts for the masquerade revellers around him. he’ll get you out on the floor, shimmering beautiful, all to hide the pain that resides beneath the surface.

and sometimes, you’ll watch even as his shattered, bloodied edges glisten. he’s smart, and calculated, and a good man- at least, thats what he wants people to think. when he breaks, its in a million pieces.

however, late on a hush night, when no one is around, you can catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

“what happened to you!?” you scold, heaving him into the apartment. he can walk fine, but you need him in your arms to know he’s alive. blood stains your clothes and your floor, but mostly his wrists, soaking into the white gauze that covers his arms.

“i have a lot of enemies, bella.” he chuckles, hoping you didn’t see the way his eyes wince in pain when you examine his injuries closer. he’s either hazy from blood loss, or lightheaded from seeing you so worried. maybe both.

he’s hoping to avoid the inevitable. you’ll have to replace his bandages.

but he’s in too much pain to complain.

“samu.” you whisper, catching his attention. normally, he’d answer with a ‘yes, beautiful?’ or something flirty along those lines. but right now, he’s wounded, coming to you only half his weight.

you place a hand in his cheek. yes, the blood is bad. but the sadness in his eyes, the pure defeat, is so much worse.

“i’ll take care of you.” you say as you slowly begin to unravel the fabric.

he takes a deep breath, feeling the bloodied gauze peeling off from his skin. you’re about to see the labour, the locks and the pain he tries to keep hidden. he just wants to make you happy. and he worries this’ll do the opposite.

examining the injuries on his arm, you surmise a few stitches will do. but the multiple scars, faded with time and littering his skin, isn’t lost on you.

you tilt your head, lips quivering as you look at him. his eyes are looking downwards, head tilted avoiding your gaze. he’s trying to control his heartbeat like could do so easily in other intense situations. his hand squeezes yours tighter every passing minute.

he’s scared.

he ignores the sting of water and soap when you wash away the blood. he feels like the end is near, but he’s still on his tiptoes just wanting to shine for you and for everyone. he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. whether its a demon prodigy or a changed, good man, he’s afraid of being hurt.

but your touch calls off the circus and burns the disco down, gently handling his injury as you stitch it up. even when he’s still on that tightrope, still doing everything to keep you laughing at him, you stay. you stay for the charades and help him find himself afterwards.

he isn’t used to this.

but he won’t reject it.

dazai blinks staring at his injury, now tended too. he’ll have to let yosano check it in the morning, but for now, its enough.

he opens his mouth to make a joke about his near death experience. anything to avoid emotions, anything to keep you looking at him. he’s never been a natural. he just wants to try, try, and try.

but for once, he doesn’t feel like he needs to stay on that trapeze. with you, he can step down, and take a break from the show.

“thank you.” he whispers, hugging you with his good arm. “you saved my life.”

he makes sure to bury his face in your shoulder so you can’t see the pain, that true pain, etched on his face.

the calculations in his brain, the puzzles that told him vulnerability hurts you, didn’t add up to this. he showed you his weakness behind the circus show, and he was met with something else.

love. he concludes, feeling your arms hug him back.

“you scared me.” you sigh, kissing his cheek. “don’t do that again.”

he chuckles, and smiles. “no promises, belladonna.”

[mandarinmoons]

okie doke! i was thinking of spencer x fem reader enemies to lovers, a classic scenario of “your enemy gets injured and it’s me you realize how much you actually care for them”. they’re sort of work rivals with him and are also very smart - not nearly as smart, but y’know - and so sometimes they tend to talk over each other or undermine one another. on a case reader doesn’t heed spencer’s warning and it ends up costing her. you can take it from there, im sure what you do will be grrrreat </33

So sorry it took so long x

The BAU were invited to help out on a case in a small town in Maryland. A town usually quiet with rarely any crime, was suddenly plagued by women missing every few weeks.

Everyone split into teams and investigated the areas victims were last seen. The place you and Spencer made your way to was an abandoned house on the north side of the town.

Spencer was someone you rarely got along with and when Hotch told the both of you to team up, it took everything in you to not roll your eyes at your boss or try and argue with him. But you bit your tongue and dragged your feet to the SUV as you and Spencer made the way to the location.

As you arrived at the building, you jumped out of the car and made your way to the back, but you stopped in your tracks when a familiar voice scratched your ears.

“Y/N, stop!”

Rolling your eyes, you looked over your shoulder and were met with Spencer’s stern gaze.

“What now?”

“We’re not supposed to break apart.”

“I’m just going behind the house!”

“We’re supposed to follow orders!”

“And you’re not supposed to be such a smartass all the time, but you still are.”

Clenching his jaw, Spencer watched you walk away before sighing and muttering to himself, “Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

Making your way behind the house, you took in the scenery. A swingset that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, flowerbeds by the sides of the fence that were full of dead and dry plants. It looked as though no one had taken care of this place in years, such a poor condition where no sane person would come. And so it would be the perfect place for an unsub to hide out.

Hearing a rustling coming from behind the trees, you latched onto your gun and walked over to the source of the noise, slowly and carefully. Only a few steps away, you felt someone walk up behind you, but when turning around you were met with nothing. Turning your head back only a second later, you were met with the unsub and before you had time to react he shot you in your leg. The gunshot echoed and you fell to the ground in agony.

“Y/N!”

Spencer came running to you and crouched down to you, brushing the hair out of your face.

“What happened?”

“He shot me-,” a cry left your lips as Spencer applied pressure to your wound.

“I told you not to go alone.”

“Just shut up and help me!”

Grabbing his phone, Spencer called for an ambulance. He stuttered out the situation as his hand was still pressed against your wound, blood seeping from the sides and covering his hand.

After finally being admitted to the hospital, Spencer was sat, waiting to hear how you were doing and every second was hell. He knew he shouldn’t have let you go all alone and yet he still did because his stubborn self was mad at you from a previous argument. What was the argument about? The two of you argued over directions to the unsub’s hideout.

“You’re supposed to turn to the left, Reid!”

“Y/N, I know my way around this town. I memorized the map before we left, we’re supposed to go straight ahead.”

“That’s not what the locals said.”

“Oh so you don’t trust me?”

“I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to trust the people who know how to get around this place.”

“It also doesn’t hurt for you to trust me.”

“I’d rather get shot than rely on you.”

And now here you were, in surgery after getting shot and Spencer replaying the scene of finding you all bloody, over and over again in his head. This was one of the times he wishes he didn’t have an eidetic memory.

A few hours later you were resting in your hospital bed. Spencer was hesitant about whether he should come check on you or not, he knew that he was the last person you’d want to see, but he was the one who found you and he needed to know how you were.

Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and walked into the room. His eyes scanned over you with his eyes stopping at your leg.

“It’s not polite to stare.”

Spencer locked eyes with you and saw your mouth curl up into a smirk; even in severe pain, you managed to sass him.

“Watch it now or else I won’t come to check on you anymore,” Spencer chuckled and made his way towards your bed and sat on the edge of it.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“Yes, I do. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“Spencer, stop. It’s all on me. I was the one being stubborn and-”

“That doesn’t matter. I was annoyed too and yet I ignored everything we’ve been taught and let you go by yourself.”

Spencer’s voice grew shaky and you noticed his eyes glistening. Were those tears? It couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Spencer sniffled and quickly dried off a few tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You had never seen him like this. You were used to cold stares and eyerolls from him sure, but seeing him be so upset over your wellbeing? It was a sight you thought you’d never witness.

“Spencer, don’t be so hard on yourself, please. It was my fault too.”

“It’s nice of you to admit that.”

“Hey!”

Lightly smacking Spencer’s shoulder caused a chuckle to fall from both of your mouths. You hadn’t been this comfortable with each other in a long while and neither of you ever thought that such a day would come again.

While you were recovering, Spencer came to see you in the hospital for the short while you still had to be monitored and when you finally were able to go home he’d stop by to see you even more. Spencer was adamant that he was making regular visits because he felt it was his responsibility after letting you walk off by yourself, but the rest of the team had other ideas as to why he was making so much time to come and see you, and little did they know that their suspicions would be proven true.

Penelope was making her way to your home with a basket of freshly baked muffins, a baked good of hers that you raved about every time she made them, and she thought that it was just the thing to lift your spirits. She reached your door and waited for an answer after she knocked. After a few minutes of complete silence, she took out the spare key to your apartment that you gave her for emergencies and made her way in, her mouth falling open at the sight.

There you were, perched on the lap of The BAU’s boy genius, who was also known as your sworn enemy, or at least was known to be.

“Oh, what do we have here?”

Penelope shut the door and made the way to you and Spencer, her smile beaming while your rosy cheeks hid in the crook of Spencer’s neck. Sitting on Spencer’s lap was the last place anyone thought they’d find you, especially yourself.

“Please don’t tell the team about this.”

“Oh sweetness, everybody already had their suspicions.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Penelope chuckled and left the basket of baked goods on the kitchen table and quickly walked off so you and Spencer could enjoy some “alone time,” clearly enjoying seeing her favorite coworkers finally getting along with each other.

As the door shut, a sigh escaped your lips and Spencer caressed your back in order to comfort you.

“How long do you think it’s going to be until everybody else knows?”

Before Spencer could answer, both of your phones went off notifying an incoming text message. Both of you took out your phones and unsurprisingly it was messages from Emily and Luke, congratulating you both on your new found love.

“I was going to say an hour, but yeah, fifty six seconds sounds like a better answer.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123

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[pursuitseternal]

“The Seventh Day:” filled with self indulgent A!A behavior (Astarbation) in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.9K of Astarion self-love

🎨 by @marimosalad full nsfw on X 🍆💦

Summary: Left behind, Astarion occupies his Ascended self first with some uncharacteristically (selfishly-motivated) selflessness, followed by some self-served reward in anticipation for your return home.

CW: Male masturbation (Astarbation?), panty sniffer/theif, he’s trying to be a helpful (selfishly), self-indulgent Astarion, Reflection Appreciation™️, he would be such a messy partner (in so many ways)

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The Seventh Day…

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Oh… darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special…”

“You always say that, and you’re always hurt…” you fold your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

“Am not,” Astarion fires back, petulant like a child, until he realizes everyone is watching your exchange. He straightens his spine and picks the pretend lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “You go right along… you’re the leader after all, and if you think you can finish your business without the Vampire Ascendant in your ranks, then go, have fun…”

You level that glare at him that lets him know you see right past his facade to the bullshit underneath.

“No, really,” he purrs, “you go, I’ll just stay here while… you do all the hard work.” He gives you that arrogant smirk and tilt of his head, that makes you war inside whether you want to slap him silly or fuck him senseless. He can see it… in your thoughts, in the way your heart pounds slow and harder as his eyes look down your armored figure. “I’ll just stay here, tend the home fires and find little ways to comfort myself over your absence, darling.”

He flashes his fanged smirk at you, your nostrils flaring wide with irritation and lust. “Don’t make a mess,” you taunt. “Enjoy your alone time.” With that you spin on your heel and your chosen three follow.

Wyll in particular laughs loudest. “Don’t worry, once he finds a mirror, he’ll be entertained for hours, I’m sure.”

The group chortles as they shut the door to their rooms in the Elfsong, but not before you throw one more look over your shoulder at your lover. He’s just smirking, irritated and conflated despite his wounded pride, making a show for you in that one moment of unbuckling his armor to drop it at his feet.

You shake your head and smile, all the irritation you have melted into love as you blow him a kiss. Then you shut that door.

The instant the door is shut, Astarion grimaces and throws the rest of his armor to the ground in a huff. Petulant? Yes, but also hurt. He looks around the empty suite of rooms, collecting his armor, he decides to actually put it away properly for once back in his rooms. Your rooms. Besides, he has no interest in watching Scratch nap by the fireplace, or risk any of the other ‘strays’ who have joined along the way come up and bother him.

With a discontented sigh, Astarion slinks his way into your rooms alone. That open chest for his armor is so close inside the door, but he sets it down on the floor. See how she likes that… he smirks, imagining your usual comments made under your breath about his messiness as you insist on tidying up. You’ll have to step over it when you come back exhausted and bloodied.

A slight pang of guilt tweaks his gut, his eyes settle on it again, that pile of his armor… the stack of messy clothes—yours and his— discarded hurriedly last night before your fucked… A slight disgruntled smile crosses his face. Maybe… just this once…. He could entertain himself in a different way.

He starts putting the armor in the trunk piece by piece, and with each one he starts to think about how much you will smile as you see your rooms.

Another piece in the trunk… he can almost feel your blush color your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. Your gratitude will be palpable… and you will want to shower him with affection… willingness… Astarion sighs to think about how you will positively reek of sweat and blood and arousal when you see what he’s done for you, his darling.

He closes the lid of the storage chest with an eager groan, that ache in his groin blooming slightly just at the thought of what will come once you’re home. You’ll positively worship at his feet for taking such good care of you…

That ache burgeons into a full erection at the image he’s conjured in his mind. With one final grunt, he picks up the pile of discarded clothing from last night, setting it properly in the basket, one rumpled thing of fabric at a time in the corner to be laundered later. One hand adjusts his erection, the other holds the last piece of fabric from the floor. Your undergarments.

He pauses, catching your scent in the air just as he wraps his hand around himself…

… he’s just trying to fix that hardness… he tells himself. But he can’t help but give that cock in his grasp a little rub.

He hisses, trying to catch his breath, but his nose only fills with your scent stronger the longer he holds your small clothes in his grip.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself, unceremoniously sitting himself on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a tidy room. Surely, he deserves his own reward. And your own laziness last night to dispose of your underwear properly has just gifted him with a great incentive. That soft fabric, inundated with your musk, makes his mouth water. He just… has to…

He presses it to his nose, his cock freed from the top of his leathers as he slowly starts to caress it. It feels so good in his hand: the perfect length, the flawless width, the impressive hardness he always gets that makes every vein rise to the surface like marble. The masterpiece of a body that he is, he smirks to himself.

Another deep whiff of that delicious scent, he looks to the side, that large mirror so perfectly placed across from the bed, his idea. His eyes flit between watching his own cock pulse in his fist, staring at the perfection is his own reflection, and closing his eyes to take another deep lung-full of your scent.

Intoxicating, the beat of his own warm hand matches that pulse of his heart, a pounding so insistent in those veins. So steady and growing more pronounced even as he still works himself into bliss. Astarion gives a contented sigh, his thumb catching over that sweet, weeping slit to wet his cock head with early cum.

Indulgent, the way the faded ghost of your musk compliments his own as it grows with every leaking stroke he makes over his own shaft. No wonder you two are so destined for greatness, so perfect together… your bodies made for one another on some primal level, right down to your scents.

A few breaths catch in his throat, the corner of his eye now fixed on that mirror. He pauses to pull his shirt up higher, his leathers down lower, wanting to see more of himself, a body that has ruined so many… Small wonder, he laughs a bit darkly, a bit proudly. The edges of his abdominals protrude, just right, that deep v of his muscles drawing the eye inexorably to that now-glistening cock. Even his balls, so smooth and round and tight now as he feels the pleasure building deep in his core.

For once, now, this body is his to savor, to command and pleasure.

“Ahh…” the thought of reclaiming himself makes his cock leap almost out of his own hand. “Delicious,” he groans to no one but himself. Leaning back, he lets his hips buck into his hand a bit, just for a little extra show… a little more stimulation as his mouth starts to hang slack. He lets that fabric treasure of your underwear slip off his face, just a bit, so he can admire the way his own fangs glint in the sunlight.

Now, those weapons behind his lips, those fangs, those are something just for him, a decadence no one gets to enjoy but you… and himself now of course. With a groan, he longs to sink them into flesh, to feel that first burst of blood as it breaks through skin to coat his hungry tongue. And in his carelessness, he finds it, nipping his own lip to taste his own ascendant blood.

Rich… full… powerful… familiar… he groans. Incredible that you get to drink from him, what a treat for his consort and for himself. The thought of you suckling from his own neck, the play of your breath on his skin as you feed, shivers run down the base of his spine, making his muscles clench and his cock buck harder into his hand.

You’ll be so touched when you see what he’s done for you, his little act of humility to gain your immense gratitude… fuck… it’ll be worth it. The back breaking labor he’s done to please you and make you smile and see his love for you still, even with all he’s become.

Your eyes will sparkle, your lips will arch in that come-hither smile you give him… you won’t be able to resist letting him take you right then and there, however he wants…

His eyes flash to the mirror, the paint of blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears…. It makes his fist grip tighter, his hand beat faster to chase that pressure that needs release. The breath catches in his lungs, his teeth gritting as he feels his balls tighten and cock thicken as he strokes faster and faster…

Another glance at his beloved reflection— that slow seep of pearly cum leaking from his cock… perfection, seduction incarnate, he smirks to himself as he arches and his head cranes backwards. Grunting, sighing, he licks his lips as that pressure in his balls bursts at last, a few more erratic bucks into his fist, as he forces his eyes open to watch.

He juts his hips out forward, almost off the edge of the bed, angled just right to watch his cum explode out gloriously. The reflection, the pulsing he feels, the warmth that drips on his hand…

Head hanging down, tongue licking his lips, he watches as his cock twitches a few more times, that release overwhelming him as he huffs with open mouth. Drips of his cum spatter here and there on the floorboards, the few offending signs of…

The door swings open, you stand panting in its frame, a bit bloodied but none of it your own. Your sharp eyes take in the scene… your love panting, cock in hand, rosy post-coital cheeks flaring a hot pink as you catch him in his indulgence. And all you can do is smirk, knowing you have the upper hand on him, shaking your head as he starts to sputter excuses.

Then you notice what he holds in his other hand, your discarded undergarments from last night. Now your cheeks flame so hot, you’re pretty sure even your undead pale skin is blushing. “What…” but you swallow the question. Why ask it… you know full well what he was doing with your intimates. “I’ll skip the question and just point out that I left you alone for an hour… and you’ve made…” you smirk wickedly as you cross to kneel before him, “… such a mess.”

“Actually, darling, you’ve failed to see that I cleane—”

But before he can get whiny and defensive, you silence him, wrapping your mouth around his still, weeping cock. You moan around his length, not giving it lots of force, just a lazy bob of your head, a slow lick of your tongue. A few swirls of your lips laps all the extra cum from his velvety skin. Then you pull off of him, grinning with all your own self-righteous taunting. “That’s… how you clean, my lord.”

[fresh-new-yoik-watah]

Almost Sacrifice

Neteyam x human!Reader

an: hello second fic ! the ending is kinda rushed I literally didn’t know what to do rjdjsj

summary: “Can I request some Neteyam x human! reader? Neteyam lived and (y/n) nearly died in the process. When she soon wakes up Neteyam becomes so protective of her?”

warnings: none. maybe angst ? fluffy fluff

word count: 1177

——————

Stupid.

The only word running through Neteyam’s head. How stupid he thought you were. Stupid for risking your life; stupid for taking the bullet aimed for him. And he planned to tell you that. He would not let you off easy; of course, he never did. You had a habit of getting yourself injured; anywhere from small scratches to large gashes, but they were all the same In Neteyam’s eyes. Each enough to make him worried and upset and ensued a scolding, but no matter what he was feeling, he still always tended to your wounds, sneaking salve from his grandmother’s hut and making sure you continued to apply it even after he had left. Except this time, he was not the one caring for you. He wasn’t even allowed to see you until the healers believed you stable. Kiri would give him updates, assuring him you were healing fine, but it did nothing to ease him, not when his last image of you was bloody and gasping, slipping in and out of consciousness, as he dragged your limp body out of the water. It was burned into his mind; the stillness of your face, the lack of breath fogging your mask. It was terrifying. He could feel his heart pounding against his entire body and it was deafening; the chaos around him diminished into a painful ringing in his ear; everyone’s voices had become clogged and far away. All he could focus on was you laying in front of him, barely hanging to the thread of life. It made him sick, how helpless he felt as you were pried out of his arms, being taken away. All of it haunted him, so he distracted himself, rehearsing in his mind everything he would say to you once you were well enough.

Neteyam had no idea how soon that would be or how much time had even passed. Daytime and eclipse were all the same to him. His body was trudging through the motions, carrying him to eat, drink, and sleep. He was just relieved you were alive, grateful to Ewya that she kept you alive, even if he didn’t know if she cared for your kind. But while you were all he could think of, his family was worrying more and more for him. His parents were lost, left with a shell of their son they didn’t recognize. His eyes were sunken and dark, his freckles dim. But everyone was too scared of saying the wrong thing that nothing was ever said, just concerned looks in passing.

One too many days had gone the same, and Kiri had enough. Night came and she laid on her side, staring at the stitching on the walls of their mauri pod, waiting until she heard the snores of each of her parents and siblings, all except for Neteyam’s. She sat herself up and crawled towards him, careful not to bump the toy’s Tuk left scattered on the floor.

“Neteyam.”

No response.

“Neteyam.”

More silence.

Kiri rolled her eyes and sighed, “I know you’re awake. I’m taking you to see y/n.”

Neteyam rolled over and sat up abruptly, the beads in his braids quietly clinking against each other at the sudden movement. “What?”

“Come on,” she pulled at his arm and guided him out of their mauri pod.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to see her yet?”

“You’re not.”

“Then why are—“

Kiri cut him off, “You’re not yourself. You’ve locked yourself away and you don’t see how worried everyone is. I don’t want to see you sulk like this anymore, so I’m taking you to see her. I want my brother back.”

They continued walking in silence and Neteyam thought about what his sister said. He didn’t realize how much he had shut everyone out; he couldn’t remember the last time he talked to Lo’ak or even played with Tuk. Guilt filled his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Kiri’s ears flattened slightly and she gave him a soft smile. “You’ve been carrying a lot.”

They arrived at the healing pod you were being kept at. Neteyam had been waiting for this moment, but now that he was here he wasn’t sure he was ready. He stood, staring at the entrance; the air became thick and his heart beat began to increase. He had no idea what he would see when he went in, how bad a shape you were in, or if you were even awake. He turned to Kiri, his eyes seeking comfort and strength in his sister. She nodded and mouthed for him to go on. Reaching out, he lifted the flap up and walked in.

“Neteyam.”

His breath caught in his throat as he saw you, very much awake. He barely made out your shape in the dark room, minuscule light creeping in through the flap reflecting off your mask. Nothing came out of his gaping mouth while he struggled to find words to say. Everything he wanted to tell you, everything he repeated over and over in his mind for days slipped away.

You let out an airy laugh, “I take a bullet for you and you can’t even talk to me.”

Of course you were making a joke out of this; he should’ve expected nothing less, and it was all he needed for everything to come rushing back. He crouched down beside where you lay.

“You skxawng.”

“There it is.”

You stared up at him, eyes locked with his. There was so much hidden in them, so much emotion. You never told him, but his eyes always gave him away, gave away everything he was feeling, contrasting the front he put on. And his eyes knew yours just as well, a pool of colour he could get lost in forever, his favourite colour.

He grabbed your hand, gently tracing patterns into your soft skin, scared he might break you. “You’re so stupid,” he exhaled, “Why would you do that? You could’ve been dead.”

It’s not that you hadn’t thought of the weight of your actions, the very real consequence that could’ve been; you’ve had weeks alone with nothing but your thoughts, but hearing him say it made your heart sink into your stomach. You could’ve died.

“I know.” You intertwined your fingers; his engulfing your hand even with your extra pinky. “I just couldn’t let it be you,” water started brimming your eyes, making everything glossy as you blinked.

“I would’ve brought you back and killed you myself if you died,” he pressed his forehead against your mask. “I don’t care if it would unbalance life.”

You laugh at his extremity, even though there was truth in it. You knew he would, at least he’d definitely try, and if he couldn’t bring you back, he’d never let you rest and scold you in the afterlife, and that would be worse than hell.

“I’m okay. We’re okay,” you smile.

“I’d wipe your tears, but I wouldn’t want you to suffocate. It’d be embarrassing to die like that after getting shot.”

“And you’ve ruined the moment.”

[toatytoastnice]

can we have some fluff with our favorite boy yoriichi?

sure! make sure to enjoy what i've made for you little smores

not so worthless

yoriichi x GNreader,fluff,reader comforts yoriichi,demon slayer reader!.

you've been a demon slayer since as long as you can remember your mother died giving brth to you and your father kimura did his best to take care of you as long as he was around you never got hurt he cooked he cleaned he did everything and most of all he cared.

you couldn't believe what happened...your father was a stubborn man he always hid his pain from you so no surprise he hid his fatal sickness from you you only found out when it was too late seeing him laying in his futon the trash bin tipped over with a bunch of bloody tissues stuffed inside hidden beneath balled up paper no matter what you did he just wouldn't wake up.

after losing your father you where approached by a mysterious man with black hair while standing by your fathers grave the man looked sickly and pale with a curse mark growing down his face he inteuduced himself as a leader of the demon slayer core and offered you to join you accepted.

you never expected to fall in love along the way let alone with yoriichi the strongest demon slayer in the core by far he was quiet and barely spoke during hashira meetings unless he really had to you've had your fair share of missions with the humble man so no surprise you have another one with him watching him slay the demon without batting a single eye makes your stomach flutter

"your wounded. the demon slashed your arm" that isn't really a question it's more of a fact as he gently grasps your wrist to look at your arm better the wound isn't too severe sliding the sleeve up as he begins addressing the wound each touch featherlight and practice makes your heart leap "there....come. we're going to the nearby inn"

he turns and begins walking and you follow without problem standing closer to him then usual as the moon shines brightly "...we're here....it's very rude to stare" "oh i-i-i'm so-so so so sorry i didn't mean to it's just that your really pretty did i say pretty i meant-" he places a hand against your mouth silencing your chatter mouth as he places a finger to his lips oh yeah there might be other demon slayers here who are trying to rest

he leads you into the inn the attendants immediately at your beck in call as they arrange your room eventually the door shuts and you turn in for the night "it's so clear she has a crush on you...you should make sure she knows it'll never work out you'll just hurt the slayer like you always do. you hurt everybody..."

the sound of yoriichi's voice hits your ears as you sit up in the futon seeing him sitting on the engawa of the inn talking quietly to himself as you get up floor boards creaking alerting him of your presence "you should sleep you have to rest up for tommorow you know?"

you sit next to him on the engawa as he clears this throat a little " don't tend to sleep well..." "hey....why where you berating yourself earlier?"

his face turns to shock back into the neutral one he always holds you can see his hands dig into the fabric of his hakama "...because. i'm a man of no worth it's true. i hurt everybody around me." "i think your worth something."

he raises a brow at your statement noticing as you give a closed eyed smile his eyes widen significantly as if seeing someone in your smile "...but why?" "not everyone is as worthless or bad as they think they are...even if you are worthless...so am i we'll be worthless together."

"thank you..." "no problem." you find yourself scooting closer resting a head on his shoulder as he looks at you before leaning his head against yours this feels nice really nice "thank you...for making me feel not so worthless."

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Welcome to my first ever fic! I have another one in the works as well but currently neither of them have a title because title's are hard, so for simplicity's sake this one is Kanej themed and when I share the other one I'll refer to it as Helnik themed.

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who out her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7

I've only tagged people who specifically said they'd like to read more, not everyone who expressed general interest, but if you'd like to be added to the list let me know! <3

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's descriptions of blood/wounds, and implied sa references (not graphic).

Chapter One - Kaz

"Now listen," Kaz leaned back and ran a gloved hand through his hair, vaguely aware of the traces of blood he was leaving on his forehead, "this has been fun and all, but I promised my wife I'd be home in time for supper,"

He consulted his pocket watch and frowned.

"And I'm already running late,"

It was clear that the man tied to Kaz's chair had no idea what to say. Or maybe he just couldn't. His cheek was a bloody crater; his jaw tight at a painful looking angle. Kaz paused for a moment to survey his half-closed eyes, wondering if he'd done the job too well. But the man was still breathing his pathetic, shaky breaths, and his eyelids were quivering slightly. Kaz hit the chair leg with his crow's head cane, and the man shook back to life.

"Are we done here?"

The man nodded shakily, quivering as he leaned as far from Kaz as his chains would allow.

"Good. Then I'll see you next week, with the money," Kaz pulled a key from thin air and placed it on the man's knee, "Have fun getting out,"

He walked away, listening to the man attempt to call him back through a mouthful of blood right up until the door slammed shut. Kaz stretched, smiled, rolled his shoulders. That had gone well. He was late though - she wouldn't be happy. Speaking of which, Annika was leaning against the wall opposite him, picking at her nails with a knife. She must have news.

"Go check on him if he's not out in an hour. Cleanly, for now, but keep an eye on him. If he tries to run this week, put a bullet in his skull,"

"Why me?"

"You're in my line of sight. And on that, what are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be at the Crow Club?"

"Just came off a shift. Brought you a message,"

Kaz nodded.

"She's back?"

"And pissed at you," Annika confirmed, "She's coming to find you,"

Kaz was meant to go to her. If she'd decided to come to him, it could only mean one thing: he was in deeper shit than running late.

"Fine," he said, and marched upstairs.

" - something else!" Annika called after him.

Kaz turned.

"Yennefer Baars is dead,"

"Then it's a happy day for everyone. Except for me, because unlike other people's spouses when my wife suggests murder, she actually means it. Go to the dock's and rustle us up some attention, the Silver Six is quiet,"

And with that, ignoring Annika's brief mumble of protest, Kaz began to head up the stairs. Yennefer Baars was dead. So that's what Inej had been up to. She'd been gone for the last month, and as a rule they didn't tell each other what a job was until it was over - no sense in worrying each other over nothing. But that didn't mean they didn't guess at what the other was up to, and usually figure it out. Kaz knew that Inej wrote a goodbye note before every job she did and left it with a particular member of the Merchant Council and his risk-loving fiancé, to be passed on in case something went wrong. He only knew that because he did the same thing, and Jesper was a terrible liar. Inej was better at figuring out what he was up to than he was her, that was true, but usually he had some idea. This time he'd heard nothing, until today. Yennefer Baars, owner and proprietor of the Tulip Mill, the most successful pleasure house in Ketterdam since the Menagerie close, was dead. Kaz had to smile.

Even if he was next on Inej's list. What the hell had he done this time?

It was raining, but what else was new? Kaz opened the window and listened to the droplets flowing over the pane and hitting the sill like a waterfall. He couldn't hear Inej, but he wouldn't be able to. Definitely not over the wind and rain. He left the window open for her, and headed to the basin. He shed his gloves and began to wash the blood off before it dried. Running hot water. Years ago he'd added this, with the bathroom of their suite at the Geldrenner on this mind. It was such a luxury, back then. So normal now.

"Inej,"

He smiled to himself as he imagined the brief look of annoyance on her face at him greeting her just as she opened her mouth to do the same.

"Kaz,"

He turned to see her, and immediately Annika's message was unimportant. It was good to see her. She smiled.

"How are things, Kaz? I heard the Silver Six has been quiet,"

Of course she had.

"A little slower than usual, but the Crow Club's booming. I've got time to fix it before the profit's take a hit,"

Inej nodded. A moment passed in silence, before she said:

"Maya Olsen,"

"What of her?"

"You know her then?"

Kaz shrugged.

"One of Yen's girls, isn't she? The Tidemaker. Never met her, but she passes information to the Dregs. I have a few people watching her, making sure the information's good and trying to find out where she gets it. Why?"

"I met her tonight,"

"You mean when you killed Yennefer Baars?"

They looked at each other, dark eyes stone. And then both their hard expressions collapsed, and they smiled.

"It's good to be home, Kaz,"

He liked it when she said 'home'. Really, he knew, 'home' was Ravka. But the Suli travelled the country, never static, never anywhere long enough for that one solitary place to be the only singular point they'd always want to return to. That was too limiting for Inej; she existed to explore. To her, 'home' really meant 'family'. It had taken the last ten years to get here, but he'd come to like that word.

"But we do need to talk,"

Kaz sighed.

"Of course we do,"

Kaz cooked. Nothing special, just warm bread and soup, but Inej seemed to like it. They sat opposite each other at their little wooden table, eating and waiting for the other one to talk first. Kaz was stubborn, but Inej was infuriatingly patient when it came down to this sort of thing. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Maya Olsen, then?"

"She's at the shelter - "

"I didn't ask where she was, I want to know - "

"Let me finish, Kaz,"

"You know I've killed people for less than interrupting me," he smirked

"And I've killed people for far more. Now be quiet, and listen to your wife,"

Kaz frowned and mumbled something about only agreeing to marriage for the tax break, but stopped interrupting her all the same.

"Maya's sixteen, I met her tonight at the Tulip Mill and took her to the shelter along with a couple of others, but they were the only ones I managed to get out," she paused and glanced away, just for a second, before picking up the thread of her story, "the other girls were both passed out - long story, I'll tell you later - I'm going to check on them in a couple of hours. But Maya was awake, so we talked and... Kaz there's no easy way to say this, but she wants to kill you,"

Kaz almost laughed. So this was why Inej had come to him, instead of waiting for him near the shelter. The had a second place there, unbeknownst to the gangs or anyone else, except the liberated kids - in case they needed Inej.

"Invite her to join the queue,"

"This is different, Kaz. This isn't some random act of aggression or some boy from a rival gang who wants to prove himself. She hasn't just picked you because you're Dirtyhands, she's picked you because you're... you,"

Kaz collected their empty bowls and began to head towards the sink, before Inej tutted and took them out of his hands, swapping them for his cane. He leant against it, and pretended the relief wasn't palpable. Somehow it was still a bad thing to rely on her.

"How does this kid even know about me? The information she was sharing wasn't specific to the gang, she didn't know who she was talking to. Just that he paid her to talk, and to not talk to anyone else. Did Yen find out about the extra income?"

"I don't think so, but Maya didn't say much about it,"

"So what information, in your extreme wisdom regarding matters of life and death, did you manage to gain?"

Inej looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Information isn't my specialty anymore, Kaz,"

"Yes it is,"

She laughed, and Kaz closed his eyes to listen to the sound, but it was only short.

"She blames you for her indenture,"

Shit. No wonder Inej was mad at him.

"What do I have to do with that?"

"Apparently there was no choice but to sell her indenture to a mercher, when her father was in debt. The mercher died and her contract changed hands, several times, before it ended up with Yen,"

The tap hummed as Inej washed the plates. Kaz shifted his weight against his cane.

"She blames the man her father was in debt to," she glanced at him over her shoulder, "No prizes for guessing who,"

This wasn't sounding too good.

"And just for that she wants to kill me? So do a thousand other unlucky sods, Inej, I'm not concerned,"

"You also killed her father,"

Damn it.

"So, she wants to kill me. That doesn't mean she gets to. Doesn't really mean she even tries. I've killed a lot of people's family members, but I'm still standing here. Did you...?"

"Tell her we're married? Yes, Kaz, I'm that much of an idiot,"

"Alright, alright. Still, you might as well. Talk her down, take her back home and find some relative or whatever to take her. That's what you do, right?"

Inej rolled her eyes. She was now perching on top of the half wall between the little kitchen and dining spaces.

"She can't go back. She's a Fjerdan grisha, she wouldn't be safe. And as for relatives - anyone she's got would either kick her out or not dare the risk of taking her. But that's not the problem, Kaz,"

"Right, and remind me why we're more worried about this murderous little problem than any of the others?"

"Because she's different to the others, Kaz. She... well, she reminded me of you,"

"Oh," said Kaz, freezing for a second before slowly returning his watch to his pocket, even though he hadn't checked the time yet, "Then I guess we have a problem,"

Problem was an understatement, and both of them knew it. There was every chance that he was completely and utterly fucked.

[littlemourningstarr]

Bright Beginnings

With Thedas safe, Roth can take a moment to wonder about what might wait for him, come morning.

Part of the Catharsis series!

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Lucanis x transmasc Rook

Tags: transmasc rook, hurt/comfort, fluff

Stumbling through the Eluvian and back to the Lighthouse felt surreal. Roth wasn't sure he was fully alive, that he wasn't dreaming in a near death state at the feet of a dead god.

But the calm within the Lighthouse pulled him from the battle fog, as he leaned heavily on Davrin, the other elf keeping him upright. His adrenaline had waned, leaving him so tired that even the marrow in his bones ached.

Still, Roth straightened as the rest of the team emerged- bloody, battered, but alive, except for-

Harding.

Her sacrifice hurt. Roth knew it would only hurt more, when it sank in- but right now, exhaustion was clouding everything. They'd won, Thedas was safe from the gods, Solas was in the Fade-

And they could rest.

He was glad to see that no one seemed alone, despite the fact that he was sure they all felt as if they were floating on their own personal dream like isles. But there were wounds to tend to, and that was best done with a partner.

Roth felt a hand, on the small of his back- didn't need to glance back to know it was Lucanis. They may have only shared their one night, but they'd been dancing towards oblivion with each other since their eyes first met-

And gods, the crow loved him. He'd said it, with his whole chest, staring directly into Roth's soul. He loved him.

Neither spoke as they broke off from the group, heading up towards Roth's room. There were medical supplies stashed in everyone's room, and the thought of walking across the strange fade courtyard to Lucanis's little pantry get away- no. Absolutely not.

Besides, this room was something magical, in a way, to Roth.

He closed the door behind them, leaned against it, let his eyes fall shut. He could feel his shirt clinging to him with sweat and blood, bruises forming all along his body- and oh, his head throbbed.

He knew when Lucanis moved- didn't need to see him to hear the air seem to shift, to feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne and blood and sweat, all mingling into something dizzying. Roth barely got his eyes open when a hand slid along his cheek, cupped his jaw so lovingly, as Lucanis found his mouth, kissed him sweetly, yet terrified. Kissed him like he had to make sure Roth was real.

Roth reached between them, grasped at one of the many belts holding a dagger to Lucanis's chest, tried to keep him close, wanted to welcome him into his ribs. He was alive, they were both alive.

"We shouldn't have survived that," Lucanis whispered, barely pulling from Roth's lips. "We should be dead."

"But we're not." Roth flashed a smile, playful, reminiscent of the way he'd smiled at Lucanis when he'd told him, just the night before, that he wouldn't be easy for the crow to get rid of. He leaned up, pecked the corner of Lucanis's lips, before he moved his hands, slid his arms around Lucanis and held onto him. The assassin dipped his head down, nestled into the crook of Roth's neck, let the elf hold him until Roth swore they would be sleeping on their feet.

When he finally lifted his head, he stole one more kiss- sweet, soft, before taking Roth's hand, tangling their fingers together, leading him back towards the large couch that had served as his bed for countless weeks.

It was wordless, as they began to shed armor, weapons. Both knew they would be ugly, beneath the layers- bruised and bloodied. Roth pealed his shirt off and tossed it away, grimacing as the smears of blood along his side, just below one of his tattoos. He touched the wound, bit back a little gasp as his fingers came away slick and red instantly. Fuck, that was deeper than he thought.

"You need to stitch that," Lucanis pointed out, before Roth could try to turn the wound away from him. He glanced at the man- he was bruising already, but seemed to be bleeding less at least.

"Not going to be fun," Roth muttered. He'd stitched himself up before, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. He'd just been on his own enough in his veil jumper days that waiting for someone else to patch him up wasn't an option.

Lucanis placed a hand on Roth's shoulder, guided him to sit. The elf did, perch on the edge of the couch, as he watched Lucanis cross the room, disappear into a tiny offshoot that had been Roth's bathroom. And where he'd left all of his medical supplies. Damn, maybe he should have grabbed those before half stripping.

What could he say, he was lucky he could think, in that moment.

Lucanis reappeared, supplies in hand, along with a pile of small towels and a bowl, filled with water. Roth shifted, ready to stand up- to take some of the supplies, to worry more about Lucanis-

But the crow shot him a stern look that had him keeping firmly in place. "Let me," he said, as he set everything down, guiding Roth to lean back so he could see the wound. "Someone should look after you occasionally."

He wet one of the little towels, took the cloth and very carefully dabbed at the wound, cleaning the blood and sweat from it. Roth sucked at his tongue- it hurt, but Lucanis's touch was gentler than any living being's touch should be. To think those hands killed countless, and yet they could touch Roth like this…

Like they had, the night before.

The next touch was another cloth, doused with something strong smelling. It stung and Roth winced, gritting his teeth against the undignified noise he made. Lucanis hushed him, before the sting turned into a tingling numbness.

"You're still going to feel this," Lucanis warned, and Roth nodded, glanced away. No reason to watch the needle pierce his skin. And while it did still hurt- Roth was able to bite at his cheek, his tongue, to keep himself still. His fingers flexed as he grasped at the couch, until Lucanis was setting the needle aside, adhering a large bandage over it.

Roth exhaled, when Lucanis pulled away, the crow standing up, a little groan escaping him. His whole body had to ache in just the same way- joints locking, muscles torn and exhausted, heavy. Carefully Roth pushed himself up, careful not to twist too much, as he grasped Lucanis's forearm, forcing him to pause so Roth could try and get a good look at him. He could see a nasty tear in his pants, at one thigh- blood stained, but not flowing still, like Roth's side had been.

"Your turn," the elf offered- and when Lucanis didn't move, he reached out, deftly flicked his belt open, left the crow staring at him with slightly wide eyes that he could move so swiftly with such a silly action.

Roth left him with a little smile and nothing more, pulling out a roll of bandages and and wetting a cloth. When Lucanis moved around him, back into his line of sight, he had stripped down to just his underwear. He perched himself on the couch, one heel dug into the frame, so that his bloodied thigh was elevated and Roth could work.

There were a few cuts, as if claws had ripped along Lucanis's tanned thigh. They weren't deep, much to Roth's relief, and while they had to be tender, they were barely bleeding at this point.

He wiped the blood away, making sure his touch stayed light. Carefully he wound the bandage around Lucanis's thigh a few times, before gently guiding the man to settle his weight onto it. "Okay?"

"Okay is not the word- but better." The crow flashed a smile, and Roth felt his entire being go up in fluttering wings. Head spinning from it, he leaned forward, got his arms around Lucanis's waist and rested his head in his lap, content to just touch, to just be connected- to feel the heat of his skin against his own. To know they were both alive, for another day.

Maybe for many more days.

Lucanis threaded his fingers into Roth's mahogany hair, toying with it gently. It made Roth feel drowsy, and for a few blissful minutes he drifted, felt like he could simply succumb to exhaustion right there on his knees.

But the creak of his room's door roused him, as he heard, "Roth? Lucanis?" He lifted his head, caught sight of Bellara as she walked part way into the room- enough that she could see over the couch, could see Roth settled half clothed so close to a nearly naked Lucanis's lap.

The color that rose on her cheeks was absolutely adorable.

"Oh! I, uh, I didn't mean to- well, I just… I can go." She took a step back, as Roth simply dropped his head down onto Lucanis's thigh, laughing.

"Bel, it's nothing," he managed, though he wasn't sure she even heard him. "Lucanis, tell her."

The crow, however, seemed at a loss for words- and Roth was forced to lift his head, to stand up slowly. Bellara had walked back a few steps, but she hadn't left, at least.

"I'm just so exhausted I nearly fell asleep," he offered. "Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to check on you both." She shifted, her hair free for one of the first times that Roth could ever recall. She had changed from her own bloodied clothes, and Roth could see countless bandages and wrappings along her hands. "Davrin got himself patched up already and is dead asleep with Assan. Emmrich and Manfred are… well, they're sitting outside Taash's room.."

Roth closed his eyes for a moment. Taash. They had to be in agony, with Lace sacrificing herself. But they would need time, Roth knew. Time to accept it, before they wanted to open up.

"And Neve?" Lucanis asked, having turned now, an arm extended along the back of the couch. Roth could see a nasty bruise forming on one of his biceps- like something had held onto him so tightly it had branded his skin.

"Passed out the moment she was near something soft." Bellara smiled over that. "The blight might be out of her, but she's drained."

"We all are," Roth admitted. "Get some rest yourself, Bel. I think the best any of us can do right now is sleep."

She nodded, glancing between the two men again- before giving a little smile and showing herself out. When the door closed Roth flopped down onto the couch next to Lucanis, giving a heavy sigh.

"I think," Lucanis offered, gently placing a hand on Roth's shoulder and trying to guide him back, "you should take your own advice."

Roth glanced back at him, before he reached up, covered Lucanis's hand with his own. "Only if you stay," he whispered, tracing the man's fingers. The thought of being more than a room apart from Lucanis in that moment made him feel ill.

"Tesoro, where would I go?" Lucanis moved to carefully wrap an arm around Roth, cognizant of the wound he had stitched up breaths and years ago. "You're here, there's nowhere else for me to be."

Roth squirmed, twisted so he could face Lucanis slightly- ignored the way it pulled at his fresh stitches, made his chest fell as if it had boulders resting on it. He got his hand in Lucanis's hair, pulled him closer, kissed him with an intensity that had the crow going stiff, for a moment, shocked. He melted into it, after a moment, responding to every movement of Roth's lips- even the press of the tip of the elf's tongue, to his own.

Lucanis leaned back, pulled Roth down with him, so the elf was sprawled between his legs, resting against his chest. Roth kept kissing him, unwilling to let himself breathe, happy to die if it meant joining himself to Lucanis's soul.

When Roth did pull back, panting softly, Lucanis chased him, stole another slow, deep kiss, before he was reaching for the blanket they had left discarded that morning, when they had rose to face the end of the world together.

Facing the beginning of the world together was a nice change.

Roth dozed, fell into a dreamless sleep, a sweet embrace of nothing. And when he woke, it was still to Lucanis, the two having shifted, so that Lucanis was pressed into Roth's neck, clutching at him with their legs entangled.

Slowly, Roth blinked away sleep. There wasn't a sign that Lucanis had moved from their entanglement- meaning that Spite had slept soundly, as well. Or whatever demons did. Roth sort of wondered if they could just turn themselves off, like when a candle blows out. Or if they existed in a semi-aware stasis…

Slowly, he felt Lucanis move- shifting against him, lifting his head. His eyes were hazy with sleep, and Roth couldn't keep from smiling at him, so sweetly, so affectionately, that his cheeks hurt.

"Hello gorgeous," he offered, and Lucanis gave a single chuckle, as if he was bemused that the little rogue was far from smooth. Yet there was a bit of color, on his tanned cheeks, along the bridge of his nose. "What?" When Lucanis didn't answered- just kept that little smirk that made Roth's knees weak, the elf continued. "Well, it's true- but would you rather I call you something else? Hmm, honey," Roth lifted a hand, tapping his fingers as he lifted the options, "baby, sweetheart, darling- oh, doll."

"You're still impossible," Lucanis mumbled, gently guiding Roth to his back, so he was looming over him. The crow's hair fell over his shoulders, acted like a veil against the room, against reality itself. "You could simply use my name."

"Lucanis," Roth whispered, so sweetly he swore he was going to burst with affection. Lucanis's stare softened.

"I won't ever get sick of hearing you say it."

Roth leaned up, pecked his lips. "Lucanis." When his crow smiled more, he kissed him again, deeper now. "Lucanis," he sighed, into it, before the man pushed him back down, kept him pinned as he inclined his head, deepened the kiss until Roth was spinning behind his closed eyelids.

Lucanis finally pulled back, and Roth glanced up through thick, dark lashes.

"I won't get sick of saying it," he admitted. "But you called me… something."

Lucanis hesitated, before he said, very softly, "tesoro." Another pause, before he glanced away, and that flush was back on his pretty face. "It means treasure."

Roth could have sobbed. His breath stuck in his throat, his belly up in knots, and oh, he loved this man. So fiercely. As if they had spent thousands of years inside the heavens' stasis, two souls entwined.

"Lucanis…" Roth splayed a hand on his chest, gently guided him until Lucanis was sitting up, so Roth could as well. He kept the hand on his chest though, fingertips flexing just over where he could feel his heart beating. "You said you loved me."

The crow reached up, covered Roth's hand with his own. "I meant it." Roth could feel the way his voice vibrated, within his chest.

"I know. I didn't doubt that you did." He leaned in closer, leaned his forehead against Lucanis's. "I love you too. I should have said it right then- or maybe I should have just said it months ago-"

Roth cut off when Lucanis got his free arm around his waist, pulled him flush to his chest, pinning their hands awkwardly between them. He kissed him, all sweetness and affection, but gods, there was force there, there was desire, there was this screaming need to consume everything Roth was.

Roth felt the air crackle, through his lashes could see those purple phantom wings appearing, wrapping up both of them. Whether Spite was trying to take a moment of freedom while Lucanis was so engrossed in feeling, or perhaps the demon himself was agreeing, Roth wasn't sure.

"I don't know what happens when we leave this room," Roth added, when Lucanis finally relinquished his mouth. "I don't know what sort of world we're about to face. But I'd take on the gods again, if it meant meeting you."

Lucanis freed his hand from between them, curled it along the side of Roth's throat, thumb on his chin, against his lower lip. And, so quietly Roth could barely hear him, whispered, "come home with me." When Roth just stared, couldn't answer, Lucanis added, "To Treviso. Come back with me. Stay with me."

And Roth… he didn't know what to say, but he knew what he wanted.

"Would that be alright?" Lucanis lived in a world so different from what Roth was accustomed to. Sure, he'd been away from the veil jumpers for some time, had been with traveling with Varric, but-

The crows. They-

"Will welcome you with open arms."

Gods was Lucanis actually in his head.

"Stop doing that," Roth teased- and when Lucanis quirked a brow, at added, "Being in my head- knowing what I'm thinking."

"Only if you stop doing it to me as well." Lucanis pulled back, stood up- and in the faint light, Roth could clearly see all of the bruises on his skin. It left his insides hot with anger, that Lucanis hurt-

But gods did he want to press his mouth to each one, and try to soothe them.

"I'm not a crow," Roth pointed out, as he stood up as well.

"But you should be." And- alright, Viago and Teia had said the same thing, once. "But that doesn't matter. Crow or not," Lucanis cupped his face, thumbs running along his cheeks, almost brushing the dots tattooed just below his eyes. "You're mine."

Lucanis kissed him again, harder now- and Roth reached up, grasped at his forearms, held on as he swore his legs trembled.

"And," Lucanis added, between kisses, "I'm yours." He leaned back, giving Roth a look- waiting for an answer.

"And your grandmother?"

Lucanis barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Leave Caterina to me, tesoro." Roth took a breath, before he nodded.

After all, where did he have to go, after this? He wasn't exactly a veil jumper anymore- and the world wasn't ending. Frankly, he wouldn't mind not being in charge of keeping Thedas in one piece, honestly.

And the only place he wanted to be was wherever Lucanis was.

He was given another kiss, before Lucanis stepped away, searching for his clothes. Roth couldn't keep himself from watching- and despite the aches in his body, if Lucanis had turned around and thrown him down on the couch, he would have gladly gone.

Instead, the crow began dressing. Roth considered asking him back to bed- even if it was just to lay there, entangled together- but his own stomach gave a growl a moment later- and oh, Lucanis grinned.

"I think breakfast is in order." He picked up Roth's bloodied shirt, before furrowing his brows at it and dropping it again. "And I imagine you're not the only one who would think so."

True, Roth wasn't sure how long they had slept, but if anyone else was awake, he was sure they were famished. Saving the world really was hungry work.

"I can make the coffee," Roth offered, looking for another shirt. And while he had expected Lucanis to brush that off, the crow gave him a bemused little chuckle.

"I think I can trust that to you."

[nothingxs]

FFXIV Write // Steer

The air was choked with heat and smoke, the din of clashing steel echoing through the paths and corridors as soldiers pushed on further and further. The initial frontal assault on Castrum Meridianum was always just one part of a two-pronged attack, and now that the so-called Warrior of Light had upheld their end of the deal and the magitek barrier had been disabled, what was once a feint now became a real threat.

And so, it was up to them to make do on the threat. It was up to us.

"I wonder," Ilysa shouted over to the rest of us, "how much longer do you think before the Empire surrenders this position?" She held her planisphere (so much as one ever does) to her right, running alongside us and looking down to find a line of soldiers who had pressed the rest of the Flames.

"Ain't bloody likely!" Renolt shouted right back, keeping his pair of blades close. "They know how important th' position is, they won't surrender unless they're made to!"

Dameron and Nenera had nothing to add to that, following up behind me. I was about to check with them before Lanna, who had leaned ahead, had made to duck behind cover and motioned to the rest of us to do the same.

"It's a big unit," they called out to us. "From here, four magitek armors. Couple of dozen soldiers. They want to clear us out." They turned to look at me. "It's on you, Red. Our men could overrun theirs, but not with those armors with them. What do you say we give them hell?"

I remember feeling myself grin as I looked to the others.

"Right. Ilysa, give Ren and Lanna a little boost. Dameron, you rain some hell to give Ren a shot at one of 'em. Lanna, see if you can't briefly commandeer one of their machines to cause problems. Nene, once Lanna's clear, burn 'em." I drew my sword and readied my shield, confirming my instructions with everyone with a nod.

"Right, Red," Ren fired back as he started to pull some throwing daggers from his belt. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'll be right there with you."

What followed always was a bit of a blur.

It's hard to really key in on things; we've always just trusted each other to have each other's backs. I saw Ilysa draw cards and pass blessing both to Renolt and Lanna. As soon as Dameron's massive fireball caused the Imperial ranks to shake for just a small moment, one of Ren's daggers had found purchase right through the neck of one of the pilots.

Nenera and I moved to draw attention, getting quickly behind cover and providing enough of a distraction for Lanna to swing around, quickly leaping up to the disabled pilot's machine, reaching in, grabbing the controls and letting loose on the Garleans themselves. Dashing out from cover and cutting through the line of soldiers with other Flames at my back, Nenera's Ruby followed through and unleashing hell upon the remaining armors as Lanna fell back.

And amidst the chaos, pressure from all of us on the now-scattering force was all that was needed. A few well-placed cuts to fuel lines and joints from my sword and the encouragement of levin, wind and ice joining soon after the explosions were the only things we needed to disable the machines. And so, we charged ahead.

Or in any other case, we would've charged ahead.

A small pain that I'd dismissed in the back of my skull, now radiated throughout my head. The deeper we got into the Castrum, the deeper the feeling had got. I had dismissed it as a lack of rest, but this wasn't just a headache. It felt like I was being pulled.

Pulled away.

As we advanced, I stopped, and clutched my head, and looked ahead in the distance. My breath caught and I was filled with what I could only call dread. Ilysa and Nenera, who had been tending to the lightly wounded in the back, caught on, and Nenera was with me first.

"Cel, love, what's the matter? Why've you stopped? Are you hurt?"

"…Something's wrong, Nene." My eyes were fixed forward.

"Well, it's war; I'd hope—"

"No. Nene, listen to me," and I crouched to meet her eye level, hands on her shoulders, though I could still not bear to look anywhere but into the depths of the Castrum. "Something is wrong. Something feels wrong. We need—we have to retreat."

"Retreat? Love, are you mad? Th—"

I had finally turned to look at her.

She never told me what it was in my expression that convinced her. I just remember her looking at me with some level of horror, swallowing, and nodding.

I sounded the call to retreat. Our men seemed confused, at first, but the urgency of the call convinced them of its seriousness.

We'd started to fall back. I like to think it was the urgency with which I was waving men back that convinced them it was serious. Our men had stopped to help the wounded to get back, as well. Among the wounded had been a few Garleans as well, and several Imperial soldiers had advanced… confused as to the sudden ceding of ground. Still, they didn't chase, choosing to gather their wounded.

The pain in my head suddenly felt like it might split it in two.

I yelled to my men to hurry.

One of the Imperial officers met my eyes in the confusion.

I yelled at him to run.

We were told there was a flash of blue and white, right after. None of us remembered.

All we remembered was waking up outside of the Castrum, our wounds being tended to, having been too close to the blast.

...did those Garleans make it out...?

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four : Not Strong Enough

Summary: Christmas pt II.

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI; language, violence, gore, abuse.

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

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Read on AO3

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Rooted to the spot in the sitting room entryway, she watched as James and Remus lifted an unconscious Sirius as gently as possible. She couldn’t feel her body anymore. All sounds had ceased to register. She could only see Sirius’ pale face, his beautiful features limp and eerily peaceful, a stark contrast from the blood coating his hairline. 

They moved past her towards the stairs to the empty bedroom. 

He was dressed so nicely. She could practically hear him complaining about the fancy clothes, a minor tantrum they had the pleasure of witnessing last year during the Potter’s New Years party. I’m going to asphyxiate myself with this bloody tie! He had threatened as she tightened the knot around his neck. Better not do it in front of everyone, wait until after dessert to off yourself, please, she had rolled her eyes. 

She trailed behind the boys like a ghost, operating fully on autopilot as her two friends lowered Sirius onto the bed while Euphemia gathered supplies. Mr. Potter rushed in shortly afterwards, nodding at his wife that was currently tending to Sirius’ wounds. 

“A healer will be here shortly, Dumbledore is on his way as well.”

That snapped her back to life.

“Why is he coming here?” Her voice didn't sound like her own.

Fleamont looked at his wife, the two of them conversing silently.

“At this point in time, we can’t be too careful,” Mr. Potter said grimly, placing a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. 

“James, love, will you go downstairs and put the kettle on?” Euphemia said as she dabbed Sirius’ head with a warm cloth. 

James nodded and turned to leave, meeting her eyes as she stood against the doorframe. Walking past, he grabbed her hand, pulling them both into the hallway. They didn't speak on the way downstairs, nor did James let go of his grip. When they reached the kitchen, they both stood in silence, grasping each other’s fingers tightly as they listened to the soft hum of the wind outside, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the sitting room, the almost indecipherable murmur of Mrs. Potter upstairs. She turned to look at her friend, his face crumpling immediately at the sight of her tear streaked face. 

In the dim light of the kitchen, she held James tightly, fingers combing through his dark curls as they both cried in each other’s arms. 

———

Dumbledore arrived a short time later, apparating onto the Potter’s front walk with a loud crack. The sound had made her shudder all the way from upstairs. 

Her and the three other boys sat vigil around Sirius’ room while the healer flitted about performing various spells and incantations, occasionally pouring random potions down his throat. Mrs. Potter had lit some candles, the smell of lavender and thyme clinging to the last piece of her mental clarity. Remus held her hand, running a thumb methodically against her skin in a gesture that she knew wasn’t just for her own comfort. 

After what seemed like an eternity, but realistically couldn’t have been more than an hour or two, Sirius began to stir. His face started to twitch slightly, his eyes scrunching in pain, followed by a low groan as he came to complete consciousness. 

She pressed her unoccupied hand firmly to her mouth, trying to keep all of the emotions inside. 

The healer tutted, pushing Sirius back down as he tried to sit up.

“Now, now,” she said firmly but gently, “you’ll need to take it easy for the next few days. You’ve had quite the night, young man.” 

Sirius looked around the room confused, eyes bouncing between the four of them and then back to the healer.

“W-where am I? What’re you lot doing here?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming. 

“You’re at my house, mate,” James said softly, “you’re safe.”

Sirius looked at the healer. 

“What’s the last thing you remember, dear,” she said, handing him another potion vial. 

He furrowed his brows in recollection, “I—“

“Ah, Mr. Black, you’re awake,” Dumbledore had appeared in the doorway with Mr. and Mrs. Potter, his face stoic but his eyes sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. 

“Fiona,” he looked over his half-moon spectacles at the healer, “if you’d be so kind.”

She bowed her head to him and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“Sirius,” Dumbledore sat at the end of the bed, “would you be so inclined as to recount the events from earlier this evening?”

Sirius stared at him, and she could tell that he was deciding whether or not to open up. His shoulders slumped, and he took a deep breath that sounded a lot like defeat. 

“They tried to make me take the mark…” he muttered, fidgeting with the hem of the quilt.

“The mark?” She asked aloud, immediately wishing she could sink into the floor.

Sirius cut his eyes over to hers, and she couldn’t decipher what she saw, but it shook her to the core. 

“The Death Eaters, they all have it,” he explained, “It’s like a brand, but it connects the wearer directly to Voldemort.”

Remus gripped her arm, feeling her begin to shake.

“They tried to force me, and I said no…I said no so many times…” Sirius whispered. He sounded so tired. “The next thing I knew, I was waking up here.” 

“Who is ‘they’, Sirius?” Dumbledore pushed.

Sirius flashed a defiant look at the headmaster. From across the room, she knew this wouldn’t end well.

“…My parents,” Sirius mumbled.

“Who else was there?” Dumbledore’s voice had lowered, almost inaudible.

Sirius shook his head, staring back down at his hands fisting the quilt. 

“It’s important that you tell us who, Mr. Black—“

“Don’t you think he’s been through enough for tonight?” She blurted out, no longer able to hold onto the burning anger.

Sirius’ gaze lifted to her, and the gratitude in his face almost sent her to her knees. Dumbledore hadn’t shown an ounce of empathy since arriving, a point that she had tucked away in her brain for unpacking later on. 

Professor Dumbledore returned the slightest glance at her over his shoulder, but it was enough to see the impenitent gleam beyond those half-moon glasses.

He turned back to assess Sirius for a moment, then patted his hand, “Thank you, Sirius. You should rest now.” 

He rose to his feet and asked to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Potter outside. After they left, the rest of them stared between each other, unsure of what to do now. 

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m not fuckin’ contagious,” Sirius groaned from the bed, causing James to smirk and sit at the edge of the bed where Dumbledore had just vacated.

“How d’you feel?” James asked.

“Like shit, if I’m honest,” Sirius sat up slightly against the headboard. She just noticed how dark the circles were under his eyes. 

He hadn’t slept since they left school.

“What happened, Sirius?” She whispered. He had left out information when talking to Dumbledore. After years of him confessing his family’s secrets to her in private, she knew his tells a mile away.

He looked at her and sighed, “It wasn’t a Christmas party, not like the normal ones anyway. It was an initiation party…for me,” he said quietly, “The entire family was there, along with some of my parent’s slimy friends like the Crouch’s and the Malfoy’s. They tried to make me take the mark in front of everyone, said I could ‘redeem myself and bring glory upon our family name once again’, and when I refused, my father dragged me to his study and…well, let’s just say it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Afterwards, my mother came in—“

She knew where this was going. The Christmas dinner that Mrs. Potter had worked so painstakingly on was now threatening to come up. 

“—she didn’t even speak to me. She just said the spell. Over, and over, and over. I don’t remember how I ended up on the floor, but I remember her standing over me and asking if I’d changed my mind. When I told her to go to hell, she crucio’d me once more, then left the room.”

Tears were streaming down her face silently as she stared at him. Remus’ head was down, James wiped his eyes with his sleeve, Peter hadn’t moved a muscle. 

“Reg found me bleeding on the rug. He slipped in and threw some floo powder into the fireplace, and pushed me in. He knew I’d be safest here.” 

She didn’t want to think about Regulus. Didn’t want to think about what sort of punishment he was currently facing at the hands of his parents when they realized what he’d done. 

The door to the bedroom opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter appeared once more, Dumbledore nowhere in sight. 

“Sirius, love,” Euphemia said softly, “How would you like to stay with us for a while?”

James perked up at that, looking eagerly between his parents and best friend.

“I’d like that a lot, thank you,” he said, and she could see the silver rimming his eyes before he quickly willed it away. 

“Brilliant. Well, you’d better get some rest, we’ll sort everything out in the morning. Do not stay in here and pester him,” she pointed at James, who held up his hands innocently. 

Shortly after they left, Sirius settled back down on the pillows. 

“We’ll let you sleep, mate,” James said as he stood, pulling Peter with him. Remus got up as well, still silent and contemplative. 

“Cheers,” Sirius mumbled, blinking heavily. 

The three boys filed out of the room and she stood to follow. 

“No,” Sirius whispered, hand outstretched towards her, “Please…I don’t want to be alone.” 

She despised what his family did to him, abhorred the scars on his body and the pain that lingered in his eyes for weeks. But what she hated the most was the way he spoke afterwards. They turned her usually loud, boisterous, confident friend into a meek, scared, pleading little boy. She knew Sirius hated it just as much. He’d never let the boys see him like this.

“Do you want us to sleep in here? We can all camp on the floor—“ she looked to where the others had just left.

“—I don’t want them, I just want you. Please…”

He sounded so broken. The frailty of his voice melted her bones, and all she wanted to do was hold onto him. 

“Okay,” she whispered, shutting the door and switching off the lights. Climbing onto the bed, she didn’t touch him, not even risking getting beneath the covers in fear that she would harm him in some way. As she laid back against the pillows, Sirius reached over and intertwined their fingers. 

“They’re going to make Reg take the mark,” he whispered into the dark. 

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so they sat in silence for a moment until she chose her words carefully.

“Does he want that?” She asked slowly.

“I’m not so sure what Reggie wants anymore…” he mumbled, and she could tell he was falling asleep. 

She laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Sirius snored softly beside her, his features completely at ease. She smoothed a hand through his hair, feeling the remnants of dried blood caked onto his scalp. When she awoke the next morning, her hand was still in his hair, and his was draped over her body, holding her tightly. 

[scorpiussage]

The Ghost of Margate Manor

(Alfie Solomons x Reader) - Oneshot 

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Y/N

Summary: Everyone in Margate knows the mansion on top of the hill is haunted. Y/N finds this out first hand. 

Warnings: none, swearing 

Everyone who lives in Margate knows that the mansion on top of the hill is haunted. They say some gruesomely ugly ghost haunts the corridors and eats those who trespass. Really, it’s all rubbish, but when you’re five drinks deep like Y/N is, the idea doesn’t seem so far fetched. Her friends are no help, either, as they are also horrendously drunk and daring her to break into the manor if she’s so sure there’s no ghost. 

That was thirty minutes ago and now that Y/N is standing at the top of the hill next to the mansion, she’s suddenly worried that those tall tales might be true. Her friends are all waiting at the bottom of the hill, though, and she absolutely cannot go back without following through; she’d never live it down. So here she is, rock in hand, breaking into a side patio door into what used to have been a ballroom of some kind. The few pieces of furniture (and the chandelier) are all covered in eerie white sheets that billow in the breeze from the open doorway. 

Tamping down on her fear, Y/N continues forward, exiting the ballroom into the main corridor. That’s all the further she gets before she encounters him. 

…

Alfie is just trying to enjoy his first night on his own. Since getting shot in the face by that Peaky cunt, he’s been laid up in bed being tended to by nurses and maids. But now, now, he’s finally healed enough to be alone for extended periods of time and he’s been looking forward to it for months. 

He’s got a nice pot of tea, hot and ready, his newspaper in his hand and a big fire in the hearth. With an excited giggle he moves to sit down in his favorite chair when he hears the sound of glass breaking. He looks at the pot of tea and newspaper forlornly, already knowing that the relaxation of this night is gone. Throwing down his newspaper, he surges out into the hallway while readying his pistol, ready to kill the fucker who thought it was a good idea to break into Alfie Solomon’s house. 

Something rams into his chest and lets out an ‘oof’. Raising his brow in surprise, he looks down at who broke into his house. 

It’s a woman, a tiny one at that, and she reeks of bourbon like there’s no tomorrow. She looks up at him, the color draining from that pretty face of hers. 

Before Alfie can say something, she shrieks, “Ah! A ghost!” 

And then she punches him in the face. 

Alfie lets out a loud curse and clutches his sore cheek. Little bit got him right on his wounded side too, “What the bloody fuck was that for?!”

They stare at each other for a long moment before the woman drunkenly asks, “Wait, you’re not a ghost?”

“I’m fuckin’ what?” he demands, reaching out and grabbing her by her arm. 

She gapes up at him stupidly, and says, “Everyone in Margate knows that this mansion is haunted.” 

What sort of looney bin did he move to? 

“Well as you can clearly see, I am not a ghost, love. Now, why the fuck are you in me house?”

The woman doesn’t get a chance to answer because in the next moment she’s bending over and vomiting all over Alfie’s slippers. Yeah, the peace that he’d been promised tonight is long gone. 

…

Y/N wakes up with a pounding headache and a terrible taste in her mouth. She looks around herself in confusion. She’s in some plushly decorated bedroom with extravagant curtains and warm hand carved furniture. This doesn’t look like her room or the room of anyone she knows. 

Looking to her left, she sees a man slouched down in an armchair, his loud snores telling her he’s asleep. 

That’s when she remembers what happened and feels a wash of horror and embarrassment overcome her. God, she was such an idiot and to top it all off she assaulted this poor man. Reaching over, she gently shakes the man’s shoulder to wake him. He does so with a snort and he squints over at her with a contemplative gaze. 

“I just want to say that I am so terribly sorry,” Y/N says while wringing the edge of the blanket on her lap, “I can’t believe I broke into your house! I will pay for whatever repairs that are needed, I swear.” 

The man smacks his lips as he takes in what she’s just said before he reaches his hand out, “‘It’s alright, love. No harm done. I’m Alfie.” 

He’s an oddly handsome man under his unkempt beard and the large scar on his face. And his hands are large and warm as they engulf hers in a handshake. Y/N introduces herself in return. 

“Surely there’s something I can do to make it up to you? I did break your window after all,” she tells him fretfully while climbing out of the bed.

 He watches her while rubbing his chin and says, “Yeah, ‘suppose there’s one thing you could do.” 

That’s how Y/N finds herself returning to the not-so-haunted manor later that night and having dinner with a one Alfie Solomons. 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Red

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Jordan Peele’s Us is a divisive horror film, mainly because everyone takes in-universe guesswork at face value. But what I don’t think anyone could call divisive is the film’s antagonist, a doppelganger (or Tethered, as the movie calls them) who decides that living trapped underground ain’t all it’s cracked up to be and decides to take on the surface. She’s an absolutely fantastic villain, and…

Well, let’s just start this before I say too much. Take heed of that warning, though, because this review spoils the film’s big twist.

Motivation/Goals: I mean, it should be obvious that her goal is to no longer exist in the underground and to be free to experience the upper world. Who wouldn’t want that, right? Does living off a diet of rabbits and being forced to crudely mimic the actions of the person you’re a duplicate of, all while having only basic levels of intelligence and being kept out of view deep underground sound like a fun existence to you? In a way, the actions of our villain are completely understandable. She just wanted out, the chance to have the freedoms and opportunities her victim was offered and that she was denied down in those tunnels.

Performance: Lupita Nyong’o is pulling double duty here, playing both the protagonist Adelaide and the antagonist, Red. She’s killing it in both roles, convincingly portraying both characters while giving each of them distinct and distinguishing traits to differentiate them despite one being the doppelganger of the other.

Final Fate: In the final battle, Red is fatally wounded by Adelaide, who takes her son and escapes with her family. It ends up being a pretty dark ending, for reasons that will become clear shortly.

Best Scene: The final battle is a work of art. Red deftly maneuvers around Adelaide, dancing about and toying with her while diving in for strikes here and there. The music, the movement, the foreshadowing of the movie’s big twist… That’s what cinema is all about, baby!

Final Thoughts & Score: Did this all seem kind of vague and brief? Well guess what, that’s because there’s a big twist here! You see, while Red is undeniably the main antagonist, there is another villain in the film lurking right under our noses… And the one this review is also about.

Psycho Analysis: Adelaide Wilson

In a heavily foreshadowed and kind of obvious twist, it turns out that Adelaide was the original doppelganger and Red was the original Adelaide, and during that fateful night on the boardwalk their places were switched. Adelaide damned Red to a lifetime of suffering below ground so that she could escape and live her life freely, without a care for the other disenfranchised Tethered wandering around in the tunnels, feasting on rabbits and being forced into a psychic link with those above.

Ultimately, it reinforces the core theme about how those in the higher echelons of society tend to get there by standing on the backs of the disenfranchised, as well as how even those who clawed their way up from poverty and whatnot can forget their roots and turn a blind eye to the same pain they once suffered so long as it’s happening to someone else. The numerous weird logical inconsistencies of the film are almost daring you to pick at them rather than acknowledge the simple yet uncomfortable truths Adelaide herself embodies.

It’s ultimately hard for me to truly label Red as a genuine villain as opposed to a victim of circumstance who decided violent, bloody revolution against the ruling class forcing her and the Tethered to exist in squalor was necessary, especially since she was subjected to horrific trauma (including rape, considering the way she talks about how her children were conceived). But at the same time, it’s hard to label Adelaide as truly evil as well—Can I truly fault her when, as a child, she did something drastic and cruel so she could escape her own torturous existence? Would she not have been subjected to the same horrible existence that Red was, only without the hope to one day spark a rebellion due to the nature of the Tethered? She only got as intelligent as she was because she was given opportunities and privileges the other Tethered are denied, so if she hadn’t switched places the events of the film could have been avoided… which means the Tethered would still be suffering out of sight and out of mind.

It’s an interesting dilemma we have on our hands here, and it’s one of the reasons why the movie is so fantastic. Is anyone truly evil here, or are these just the actions of desperate individuals who want to improve their lot in life and see no other way than to resort to extremes? I think that both things are true in this case. While both women are incredibly sympathetic in their motivations, both still do some incredibly heinous actions.

Adelaide is the more obvious of the two in this regard: It is her actions as a child that set this whole plot in motion. Surely there was a better way than knocking out the girl she was a clone of and forcing her into the miserable life she herself wanted to escape? Could she not have simply tagged along after her, and maybe lived as a twin or even just alerted the world to the presence of the Tethered? It may seem rather excessive to hold this against a child, but she never made any effort to rescue her family or Red from the life she left behind. She seemed to simply forget them until the Tethered uprising began. It’s rather cold and cruel, especially when considering how good a mother and person she was able to become while blending into humanity.

Red may not seem quite as bad when the twist comes around, but I think it actually reveals just how bad she had become in her years of isolation from humanity. She manipulates her son Pluto into immolating himself, and she refers to her daughter Umbrae as a monster. It’s to the point where, in Umbrae’s dying moments, all she can do is quietly sob until Adelaide gives her comfort—likely the only maternal affection the girl ever experienced. Need proof? I saved the Best Quote segment for here, taken from her introductory speech:

“Once upon a time, there was a girl and the girl had a shadow. The two were connected, tethered together. When the girl ate, her food was given to her warm and tasty. But when the shadow was hungry, she had to eat rabbit raw and bloody. On Christmas, the girl received wonderful toys; soft and cushy. But the shadow's toys were so sharp and cold they sliced through her hands and fingers when she tried to play with them. The girl met a handsome prince and fell in love. But the shadow at that same time had Abraham. It didn't matter if she loved him or not. He was tethered to the girl's prince after all. Then the girl had her first child, a beautiful baby girl. But the shadow, she gave birth to a little monster! Umbrae was born laughing. The girl had a second child, a boy this time. They had to cut her open and take him from her belly. The shadow had to do it all herself. She named him Pluto, he was born to love fire. So you see, the shadow hated the girl so much for so long...until one day the shadow realized she was being tested by God.”

While the fact remains that their births are surrounded by horrible implications, they are ultimately innocent children that their own mother inflicted her suffering upon, and who she freely used and discarded without a care because she didn’t see them as “real.” Even her Tethered husband has a moment of hurt at how dismissive she is of him. Where Adelaide blended into human society and learned how to blend in and be a good person and a good mother (despite her wicked actions as a child), Red grew to become a cold, unfeeling monster molded by her brutal circumstances. Red’s humanity was stripped from her, and she became more like the Tethered than even she would like to believe.

So, what do I even give these two characters? They’re evil, but they might be some of the most sympathetic villains I’ve ever covered. It’s genuinely hard to fault their actions, but it’s pretty impossible to defend what they ultimately accomplish. If I have to boil down these incredibly complex and multifaceted characters to a simple numerical score, I’d say that they both deserve an 8/10. But that's an 8/10 I feel is a bit reductive.

[casspurrjoybell-19]

Does it Matter? - Chapter 14 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Maric squeezed Dara's wrist, hoping to detect some hint of a pulse but it was impossible to feel anything now that the wagon was moving.

It was a pointless hope, anyway, he had a hole all the way through his chest, puncturing his heart, he didn't have a pulse, Maric knew that, e'd lost so much blood, too, his clothes were wet with it and he'd left a puddle of it behind to soak into the dirt road.

Dara wasn't a large man, even if he'd had a functioning heart, the blood loss would have been too much.

There were some things not even magic could fix, he should have sent Dara back to Paige.

He would have still been without him but at least he would have had the hope of maybe visiting him again someday, at least Dara would have been safe and hopefully happy.

Now when he woke up alone each morning he would have to lay with the knowledge that it was because he had been careless with the one person he had ever truly connected with. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time they arrived at the damn inn.

It took less than a minute for news of their arrival to spread through the staff and patrons and for people to start crowding out of the inn to come and gawk at them.

A little girl no more than five years old approached the back of the wagon and stared up at Dara's bloody, slack face. 

Brayan grabbed her by the back of her shirt and spun her around, facing her back towards the inn.

"Get the children out of here. Get everyone back inside." 

Brayan had the kind of voice people obeyed even without knowing his status, and in less than a minute the crowd had vanished again. 

Brayan had the kind of voice people obeyed even without knowing his status and in less than a minute the crowd had vanished again. 

No one seemed to know what to do after that. Maric certainly didn't. He knew he ought to let go of Dara, both physically and emotionally.

He knew he should go inside and get cleaned up and be a prince but he just... didn't, he couldn't. 

Garrod was the first one to approach the back of the wagon.

"He was a sweet boy." 

Prince Maric clutched Dara tighter against his chest.

"He was more than that." 

"Hmm."

Garrod nodded seriously.

"Do you know anything about his religious beliefs? What he would have wanted done?" 

"No. I hardly knew anything about him."

Maric shut his eyes.

"Fuck." 

"He was born in Ticia, wasn't he? They burn their dead." 

"Is it the same for the Eth, though?" Brayan asked.

"They have their own language, their own culture." 

"Thank you," Maric told them.

He had been worried that nobody would understand why he was so upset over a bed slave but that wasn't what Dara was anymore.

He was just a person who had died, a person who Prince Maric had cared about deeply. 

Mathers approached the back of the wagon and gave Maric a sympathetic pat on the leg, then slowly retracted his hand and pressed his lips together like he wasn't quite sure he should have done that, Maric didn't care.

A deep sorrow had drowned out all other emotions, Mathers could have slapped him and he still wouldn't have cared. 

"Please let me take a look at that cut on your chest," Mathers said.

"The arrow went through him and cut into you, didn't it?" 

Maric couldn't even feel the sting of it anymore.

"I don't care." 

"I know you don't but please let us care for you until you can care about yourself again," Mathers said.

"Can you imagine dying to infection because you wouldn't let me clean out some trivial wound?" 

"Please, Maric," Brayan encouraged when Maric didn't move.

"You don't have to decide anything about Dara yet. Nobody will touch him. Just climb out of the wagon and let Mathers tend to you." 

"Okay," Maric said after a long moment of hesitation.

He didn't want to but he needed a next step, he needed to do something.

He found the ratty old jacket Dara had insisted on keeping with him tucked into a corner of the wagon, folded it up and gently lay Dara's body down with his head resting on it. 

He gave Dara one final look, hoping by some impossible miracle to see his chest rise and fall and then climbed down out of the wagon. 

He stood, passive, as Mathers unbuttoned his shirt.

It stuck to him in places, a mix of his own blood and Dara's dried into it. 

The cut on his chest had split the skin open into a wound the size of a bronze coin.

It would need to be stitched and would leave a scar.

Good, this had been the worst day of Maric's life but he never wanted to forget it.