#Twelve/Sixteen- Element

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ONE

CHAPTER ONE TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾️TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

A chance encounter under the strobe light. Hips swaying to the thumping bass. Dark eyes following her every move. Gazes meeting through the crowd. She came to him. He took her away. Changing her life forever, guiding her into submission.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Noncon/dubcon elements. Roofies. Abduction. Dom/sub dynamic. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 3.9k

A/N: Please remember: This is fiction! As much as I enjoy writing fucked-up characters, this is not real. I do not condone this behavior! Men, be nicer to women! Girls, always check your drinks! Be mindful of strangers, no matter how nice they seem and how hot they look. And be careful what you wish for! So, technically this is a modern AU of my original story Innocence Lost, picks up on some themes, but it's basically just a fucked-up man abducting a girl (it's not stated in the beginning, but she's over 18!) and having fun with her (and then things may escalate a little!). Be mindful of the tags! This may be my darkest piece yet. (Dead dove, do not eat, as they say, right?) Also pretty self-indulgent, but there is some plot between all the filthy smut that is to come, I swear. > There are no names, no physical descriptions other than a size and age difference, so you can imagine any character here! <

ONE 🟥 TWO

Innocent.

She's been innocent, the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Laughing with her friends, oblivious to her own beauty, blind to the leering stares of every single male around her. And he's been one of them, staring, watching her, looking her up and down as she moved her fragile little body to the beat of the thumping bass, motions contorted and jerky in the strobe light, hair swinging, hips shaking, lips curling into happy smiles.

So innocent.

Probably just a mask, an act. Or maybe she's really been as pure as she looked back then, he'll never know. Because as soon as he's laid his eyes on her, she's been corrupted, tainted by his dark desires. He wanted to corrupt her, ruin her, and he always got what he wanted. He lured her in, kept watching her until she noticed his stares, the darkness in his gaze, the hunger within him. And she came to him, drawn to his mystique, his persistence.

Curious little thing, clueless to the monsters around her.

He smiles at her, rakes his eyes over her body, over that outfit she chose to impress without realizing what might happen, whose attention she might attract. The tight top, squishing those small breasts (pert little nipples standing proud under the shifting breeze of the AC), showing off the flat of her stomach, the flutter of her belly after she's danced her heart out, chest heaving, sweat on her brow, beads rolling down her pale, untouched skin. Slim naked arms holding the drink between her fingers, the soft rattle of cheap jewelry on her wrists, around her neck.

Girly, cute, pure.

And that skirt, mid-thigh, tame when she's standing still, scandalous when she's moving, the fabric flowing around her legs, bending down (bending over), accidentally showing off those cute little panties beneath. Giggling when she realizes her mistake, small hands trying to cover up, but people already saw, and she's aware. She's been aware he saw everything of her. Eager eyes, big and fucking innocent, following his every move.

He takes the drink from her, stares down at her, no longer smiling, and she looks up, chin tilted, so tiny in front of him, innocent, expectant, excited. Putting the glass down, he grabs her wrist, frail cheap jewelry bending under his grip. For a small moment she's hesitant, notices the strength in his fingers, the determination behind the gesture. But she still follows him as he pulls her away from the bar, into the shadows.

How do you break an innocent girl? Show her what's what? What may happen if she steps into the lion's den wearing that skimpy top and maybe-scandalous skirt? So naive. Swinging her hips to the blasting music, bouncing those tiny tits, laughing like nothing else matters, enjoying herself. A little light in the moving darkness. A light he wants to savor before he'll let her burn out.

If she'd be any other girl, he'd have her pinned to the wall, skirt flipped up, panties ripped down, his belt open in seconds before he'd sink his cock into her tight little cunt, to ravage her, ruin her, use her like she's supposed to be used. But she's too pure to be railed against a wall, in the dimly-lit club, for everyone to see.

He still pushes her against the wall, inhaling that little gasp she issues when she hits it, looking up at him, lips parted, eyes wide, gaze blurry, pupils already dilated, the thrill of the encounter and adrenaline of the night (and possibly some drinks she was mysteriously gifted) pumping through her body. Grabbing her face with his big hands, he holds her firmly when he leans closer, takes his time, gives her time to push him away (what a rare treat, girl), but she just stands there, looking at him, a little glint in her eyes, her lips curving up ever so slightly.

She wants this.

And he gives it to her. His lips meet hers, one hand holds her cheek, thumb guiding her chin, while the other hand slips into her hair, fisting it, a tight grip to hold her as he kisses her, a soft beginning, quickly turning rougher, more hungry, desperate. And she kisses him back in the same way, mirrors his motions perfectly. Such a quick learner. Their tongues slide against each other before he pushes deeper, tastes the inside of her mouth, that sweet taste, of some sugary drink and her, so much of her, and it's intoxicating.

So sweet. Innocence oozing from every pore.

He cages her in, pushes her against the wall, feet on either side of hers, knees around her legs, and she's that tiny thing in front of him, standing there, kissing him back, but her body seems frozen, hands at her sides, immobile. Petrified? A doe-eyed thing caught in the headlights? Not for long. His hand moves down to her waist, fingers digging into soft skin, warm and smooth, slipping up under the hem of her shirt, teasing at the little mound beneath.

No bra. Too innocent (and small) to need one.

Her hand comes up then, closing around his wrist, but she's not pulling him away, she's pushing his hand higher until his rough palm closes around her breast. Tiny tits, usually not his preference, but it's cute, that little squishy flesh under his big hand, warm and soft, and the longer he kneads it, the harder her nipple pokes into his palm.

And then she moans into his mouth. His eyelids flutter, and he stares at her, lips hovering over hers, heavy breaths mingling, head spinning, the tension in his stomach making it so hard to keep his composure, to stick to his decision to spare her his usual treatment. He gropes her small tit once more before he pulls his hand back, sliding it down her side, watching her closely.

He grabs her ass cheek harder than intended and leans in to capture her mouth when she yelps quietly in response, swallowing her noises, the thump of the music vibrating through his tense body. In his mind he's already ripped her clothes off, run his hands all over her smooth, untouched skin, fingers pinching her nipples, teasing between her legs, slipping deeper, into her tight innocent warmth –

A grunt escapes him. She's gripping the front of his shirt, her small hands clinging to him while she kisses him back, eagerly, completely lost in the unexpected encounter. Eyes closed, humming against him, body inching closer, searching for his warmth. The hand on her ass pulls her against him, a little thud that makes her mewl into his mouth, before it slips lower, cups her rear, pushes her up, fingers brushing against that little damp piece of fabric, and it's enough to make him hoist her up onto his hip.

Her hands claw at the collar of his shirt while her legs wrap around him almost automatically, conditioned, programmed to submit. A deep-rooted thing she isn't aware of yet. Her pelvis presses into his hipbone as he balances her, back pressed to the wall, both of his hands now on her plump cheeks, holding, groping. He can feel her warmth, that hint of wetness, arousal she's probably confused by.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he rasps into her neck as he leans in to shower her soft skin with hungry kisses, lips closing around her fluttering pulse, sucking the blood to the surface with a determination that surprises himself.

“What?” she breathes against his cheek, a sweet little sound in his ears, so pure, a soft hum in the atmosphere.

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbles, licking over the bruise he's created on her neck. She shivers in his hold, chest moving against him. He leans back, licking his lips, meeting her curious gaze. “You need another drink,” he says with a smirk. It's not a question.

He sets her down again, grabbing her hand, leaning over to brush his lips over her temple until she looks up at him. Then his other hand is on her chin, holding her as he crashes his mouth against hers for another searing kiss. A little whimper escapes her. She's confused, he can tell, overwhelmed by whatever is happening.

Pulling her towards the bar, he nods to the barkeeper, a gesture often used. She's leaning against him, caged between his hard body and the counter, looking up at him with those big eyes. He smiles down at her, caressing her soft cheek with the back of his finger. He's got her, he knows. She doesn't even care about her friends anymore (and they seem to have forgotten about her too, he can see them dancing on the other side of the room). All she does is look at him, mesmerized.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bartender sliding the drinks over the counter top. He takes the prepared drink (something sugary with a special ingredient) and hands it to her, then takes the little vodka shot for himself, eyes fixed on her as he clinks the glasses together. She smiles shyly and takes a cautious sip, while he downs the shot in one go, feeling the liquid burning down his throat. The music thumps around them, the air thick and heavy with alcohol and sweat, and a tension that's just between them.

The innocent girl, sipping her drink, staring up at the man, who watches her with a predatory smirk. His hand is heavy on her hip, warm and comforting, holding her in place, thumb rubbing over her fluttering stomach. She finishes the sugary concoction and wipes her mouth, glass empty on the bar. He leans down and brushes his lips against her ear.

“Come with me,” he whispers, and she shivers, her hand finding the front of his shirt again. He steps back, his hands running along her arms until they close around her slim wrists. The bass sits low in his guts, and he can't help but move his body slightly to the music as he leads her backwards. She laughs softly, a little sway to her hips as she follows him. But they leave the dance floor and walk back into the shadows.

He watches her closely, she blinks more, eyelids heavy, lips parted, that cute little tongue out to lick them, once, twice, again, almost obsessively. He takes her to the back, past the office, the music becoming that thick beat in the distance, a deep thrum in the air, through the walls, muffled as if the world was made of cotton. He leans her against the wall, a body too easy to move by now, his hands on her shoulders as he leans down to rub his nose against hers.

“Be a good girl and stay right here,” he tells her, waiting for her to understand.

She nods slowly, licking her lips again, and he presses his mouth to hers, capturing that sweet little tongue, sucks on it, kisses her deeply, tastes the sugar and her and more. Dangerous move, but he can't help himself. He leans back, moves his lips down her jaw, along her neck, swipes his tongue in a broad stroke over that soft skin. She mewls in response, and he grins against her before leaning back.

“I'll be right back,” he says, his eyes boring into hers, making sure she does what he tells her. She nods again, biting her swollen lip.

He hasn't planned to take her, but he'll adapt, as always. It's a risky move, but he somehow knows it's going to be fine. He has an eye for these things, knows what to do if situations (opportunities) like this present themselves. Just a few calls, some more ominous nods to his employees, no problem, just a few minutes of his time to sort things out. Somewhat. He doesn't even know why he's taking her away, it just feels right. The temptation is too strong to ignore.

He shouldn't have left her.

When he returns, they are there, crowding her, two guys, frat boys probably, drunk out of their minds, slurring and stumbling, but determined to take what is now his. He's on them in no time, hand ripping them away from the frightened but still confused girl, frozen in place as hands gripped and groped her, slipping under her clothes, going places that are reserved to him.

His fist lands hard against a jaw, one of them tumbling to the floor with a howl, the other, too drunk to react, just stares at him, and he doesn't wait for him to realize what is happening. There's blood on his knuckles when the second guy goes down as well, two crumpled guys on the floor, holding their bloody faces. He grabs the girl with his left hand, carefully pulling her against him. She's swaying, legs trembling, arms wrapping around his waist helplessly.

One of the boys stirs, and he steps on his hand and kicks him back, another howl swallowed by the distant thump of the music. He takes a few steps, raps his fist against the door. A bouncer opens it, and he tilts his head towards the mess behind him. “Take care of this,” he orders, and the burly man nods, slipping into the club while he maneuvers the girl out of it.

The night is cold, semi-fresh air, but the noises are no longer muffled. The city breathes around them as he guides her to his car, parked in the back. She clings to him, barely able to function on her own anymore, eyes heavy, lips parted. He leans her against the trunk, hands holding her soft face, looks her over. She looks at him from under her lashes, too out of it to realize anything anymore. He gives her a soft kiss to her warm cheek, a little giggle escapes her.

She falls into the passenger seat, a frail little body unable to move on its own. He leans over to buckle her in, feeling her deep breaths on his chin. A short side glance shows him she has her eyes closed, chest rising and falling, head lolled to the side. His hand is on her cheek as he kisses her gently, savoring the warmth, already imagining what he could use her for. But he has to be patient.

When he rounds the car to get behind the wheel, his morals flare up, a rare occurrence, but the sight of her slumped into the seat, helpless and fucking innocent, makes him wonder how it's come to this. He's seen her dancing, in that tight top and short skirt, a laughing little light in the darkness around her. Pure. Ready to be soiled. He inhales the cold night air and slips into the driver seat, shaking his head to get rid of those damn doubts, flexing his bloodied knuckles on the steering wheel as he turns his head towards her small form.

In the end she is just another body to be used, like she should be.

They arrive at his place, and it's a blur for him to get her into the elevator, a little breathing bundle in his arms, so light and heavy at the same time. Temptation. He puts her down on the bed, watches her, how she curls up into a ball of limbs and hair, breathing softly, skirt bunched up around her hips, that sweet round butt on display, cute panties he wants to rip off her immediately. But he refrains, sighs, turns away to wash the blood off his hands.

Unbuttoning his shirt as he returns, his eyes are on her, taking in every detail. He keeps his pants on, keeps his hard erection in place for now, no matter how difficult it is to hold back. The urge to just take her is strong, push those panties aside and impale her on his thick cock. It'd be so easy. She wouldn't even feel anything, wouldn't remember a single thing. And there's the problem. He doesn't want to fuck a lifeless body, no matter how cute she looks.

He wants to see the fear in her eyes, the pain when he penetrates her, stretches her, deflowers her, possibly. Maybe even the lust growing in her pupils, that dilated look of pure bliss. Who knows, she might be into this. She followed him so willingly, she came to him, after all, approached the monster that kept staring at her. She made the first step. He just watched.

She stirs on the bed, soft little noises tumbling past her lips. He leans over her, rolls her onto her back, turns her head to the side so she won't choke on her own spit. There are other things he wants her to choke on. Later. It's almost caring how he brushes her hair out of her face, caresses her cheek, flushed and warm from sleep. Thumb finding the contours of her lips, soft and wet, pushing between them, into her mouth, searching for that sweet little tongue.

He pulls back with a deep sigh. Watching her for another moment, he decides to undress her after all. At least the skirt has to go, so he moves his hands under her body and fumbles for the zipper, then pulls it off her slim legs, nudges her shoes and socks off in the same move. He even removes her cheap jewelry, the soft clanging sounds of the thin metal filling the quiet room. She stirs slightly, smacks her lips, but doesn't wake. Not that she could, not yet. He folds the skirt and puts it on the nightstand, the sneakers he leaves under the bed, socks tucked into them, then turns his attention back to her sleeping form.

So fucking innocent in her tight top and those cute panties. A soft pink with little white bows on it. Childish almost, a girl caught in that awkward phase between adulthood and innocence, right on the verge. He doesn't know how old she is, but he trusts his bouncers to only let in girls of age. They're experts in finding fake IDs, good judges of character also. To be honest, though, it wouldn't change anything anyway. She is here now, on his bed, ready to be used, soiled, ravaged. He can't fucking wait.

But he has to, so he leans back and inhales deeply, ignoring the strain in his pants. His hands are itching to touch her, feel that warm smooth skin, pure and untouched. Almost. He can see the bruise on her neck that he worked into her. His mark. The beginning of many more, he's sure. He leans in, braced on one arm, one knee denting the mattress, his other hand tracing her jaw until he feels the little thump of her heartbeat in her jugular. His fingers curl around her neck, thumb pressed to her throat, as he stares down at her.

His mind floods with images of soft lips strained around his cock as he forces it down her throat, the tears in her eyes, the desperate grip of her fingers, trying to push him away as she struggles to breathe, spit and cum on her face, dripping down her chin, down between her tiny tits, chest heaving, throat bulging, a small body shuddering under the assault. He leans back with a groan, his stomach tensing in anticipation.

His hand trails down her side, teases those soft mounds under the top, scrapes over the hem of her panties, down her inner thigh, a little nudge and her legs open, a body to move how he wants to, so pliant. He's tempted to throw his plans overboard, the urge growing to just take her and relieve the throbbing need in his pants. His fingers are shaking as he brushes them between her legs, over the soft, slightly damp fabric of her underwear.

He can't help himself any longer, he slips a finger under the hem, feels her warm skin and the slick gathering between her soft folds. Biting his lip, he traces her slit, from the little hidden nub down to her entrance, and he can already tell she's never been touched here before, tight and pure. Maybe she's had her own little fingers in there, but she'll soon find out that it won't compare to anything he's planning to do to her.

A grunt escapes him when he pushes the tip of his finger into her hole, a little squelching sound accompanied by a little whimper. He looks up, but she's still gone, head turned to the side, drool gathering in the corner of her parted lips. He watches her as he dips his finger deeper, feels the tight grip of her cute little cunt, so warm and squishy, barely able to accommodate one of his digits. This will take some work if he wants to keep her.

He's used virgins before, broke them, ravaged them until their blood mixed with his cum, their pained screams like music in his ears, but this girl... she's too innocent to be treated like that. It's a strange feeling he's never had before. It's warm and somewhat comforting, as smooth as her tight little pussy. He pumps his finger slowly in and out, noticing the wetness gathering around it. Her mind may be clouded, but her body reacts nonetheless.

Why not start her training while she's unconscious? Might make it easier for her once she comes to. He settles next to her, pushing her panties aside more to allow his thumb to find her clit. Pumping his finger, he rubs it gently, draws tight circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves, feels it pulsing under his touch. His cock twitches against the fabric of his pants, and he grits his teeth to ignore it.

Her body shudders, little uncontrollable twitches in her thighs, her stomach fluttering, her soft breaths slightly faster as he keeps working his finger into her tight warmth. His eyes on her face, relaxed in sleep, but there's still a little twitch to her eyebrows, a little furrow, a quiet whimper falling from those plump lips. He fingers her faster, thumb pushing harder on her nub, those sweet squelching sounds making his head spin.

A tiny moan erupts from her throat, a quiet “Ah...” humming in the atmosphere, and he feels her tensing up, her walls gripping his finger, but he works it in and out still, knuckles-deep, thumb assaulting her clit. He wants to lean in and taste her so bad, but somehow he holds himself back, another trait he's new to. Instead he watches her small body convulsing under his touch, hips jerking against his hand, cunt clamping down on his digit, and when he pulls it out, her wetness seeps out of the tiny hole, trailing down to the other, dripping onto the sheets.

He inhales deeply, takes in that sweet scent of her orgasm, and wipes his hand on her inner thigh, spreading her release on her warm skin, before he leans back and brings his finger to his lips, unable to fight the urge to taste her after all. He prefers to have his face between soft thighs, drinking directly from that intoxicating fountain, but for now it'll do. His tongue laps around his fingertip, and he closes his eyes, taking her in, that sweet, sweet taste.

Before he leaves her be, he adjusts her panties and throws the blanket over her sleeping form. Then it's a short trip to the bathroom, shower turned on, clothes discarded on the floor, and he's barely in there when his right hand closes around his angrily throbbing cock.

Fuck. This girl will be a challenge. An exercise in restraint.

🟥 TWO

End notes: So, I guess the slow burn of Innocence Lost got to me, big time. I have no idea from what dark and ugly depths I pulled this story, but it is here, at least the first 10 chapters of it, the first season if you will. (And there will be more!) I'll upload a new chapter every Monday!

I hope the tags didn't put you off too much, but if you are reading this, maybe you pulled through, and I thank you for it! Thank you for joining me on this wild ride! I appreciate you very much!

By the way, this all came to be, somehow, because I've been listening to a lot of Electric Callboy recently (strangely enough, iykyk) and their video to Hate/Love kinda brought this all down. Or at least started it all. Sometimes inspiration strucks in the weirdest forms.

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE ◾️TEN

ELEVEN◾️TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[aphroditelovesu]

kinktober 2023 masterlist || disclaimer: will obviously contain nsfw content. be aware of this.

🎃˚˖੭ I love when you're submissive, love it when I break skin, you feel pain without flinchin', so say it...🎃˚˖੭

❝day one: vampire/bloody sex with Klaus Mikaelson❞

❝day two: praise kink with Apollo❞

❝day three: breeding kink with Alexander the Great❞

❝day four: daddy kink with Elijah Mikaelson❞

❝day five: degradation with Ares❞

❝day six: bondage with Aphrodite❞

❝day seven: somnophilia with Hypnos❞

❝day eight: threesome with Apollo and Eros❞

❝day nine: overstimulation with Damon Salvatore❞

❝day ten: voyeurism with Taehyung❞

❝day eleven: shadow play with Azriel❞

❝day twelve: exhibitionism with Dionysus❞

❝day thirteen: rough sex with Tom Riddle❞

❝day fourteen: romantic sex/making love with Eros❞

❝day fifteen: first time with Jungkook❞

❝day sixteen: wax play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day seventeen: roleplay with Achilles❞

❝day eighteen: public sex with Hades❞

❝day nineteen: thigh riding with Sirius Black❞

❝day twenty: lactation kink with Robb Stark❞

❝day twenty-one: edging with Ares❞

❝day twenty-two: threesome with Achilles and Patroclus❞

❝day twenty-three: wing play with Lucifer Morningstar❞

❝day twenty-four: temperature play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day twenty-five: dacryphilia with Jin❞

❝day twenty-six: wedding night with Apollo❞

❝day twenty-seven: size kink with Achilles❞

❝day twenty-eight: shower sex with Poseidon❞

❝day twenty-nine: cockwarming with Anakin Skywalker❞

❝day thirty: spanking with Eros❞

❝day thirty-one: non-con/dub-con elements with Apollo❞

🎃˚˖੭ Give me tough love, leave me with nothin' when I come down, my kinda love; push me and choke me till I pass out... 🎃˚˖੭

⤷ cited song: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie.❝

❝ 🎃 — 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒍: if you want to be tagged for future updates, comment or send a DM.

⤷ tagging: @krismikaelson, @compulsiivedreamer, @legendarydefendorkitty

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart.

(slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty One, Twenty Two, Twenty Three, Twenty Four, Twenty Five, Twenty Six, Twenty Seven, Finale, Epilogue

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

[jinxhallows]

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 .

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☾ -- ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter lucky thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen | chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen | chapter eighteen ((you are here)) |

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ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ -- @sikebishes @hamburgers101 @felix-housewife @agnes-king @exfolitae @brojustfknkillm3 @skzswife @just-randomm-stuff @thunderous-wolf @3rachasninja @katsukis1wife @hanjingin @mylilliposts

☾ -- ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ? ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ | ᴡᴄ: 8.6ᴋ

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A dense smoky fog blankets the ground as you navigate through it, obscuring everything but the silhouette of barren trees in the distance. Their branches reach out like grasping fingers, lending an air of malevolence to the journey. It feels as though every element of the landscape is vying for a piece of your soul. 

The vampires, purportedly devoid of soul, remain unaffected by the eerie atmosphere. Jisung, however, betrays his unease by idly rubbing his amulet between his fingers. Though he maintains his stoic facade, a flicker of apprehension glimmers in his eyes as he catches your gaze. His smile is unfamiliar, lacking its usual warmth—it's akin to the polite nod given to a stranger who holds open a door.  

This isn't the Jisung you're accustomed to. 

Time is running short for Jisung. He's almost resigned to his fate, harboring a faint hope for a swift, painless end once this journey concludes. The prospect of returning home to face the slow decay of his essence over the remaining years weighs on him. 

Thoughts of his long-lost fiancée flit through his mind. He's yet to encounter her in his frequent visits to the afterlife, but perhaps he'll spend his eternity seeking her out instead of perpetually evading death. 

A tender glance at your stomach reveals his excitement at the thought of becoming an uncle. Even though he likely won't be around to see it happen, he finds comfort in knowing that your child will carry his legacy through their magical bloodline. Someday, they'll cross paths again. 

The dark aura emanating from the coyote demon casts a shadow over the group. The silence is difficult to tolerate in its absolute stillness. Wasn't this supposed to be the most dangerous part of the journey? Only a day ago, you were under siege by demons, yet now, on the brink of the final stretch, there's nothing. Certainly, if there were something in the distance, any one of the supernatural creatures on your sides would be able to detect it. 

Hyunjin listens to the crunch of twigs under his feet, lost in his thoughts. He ponders his mother's cryptic words, wondering if tonight will mark the loss of one of his brothers. Maybe even you. Hyunjin had grown incredibly fond of you, and you had earned his loyalty by rescuing him.

Hyunjin even entertains the idea that it should be him instead. Many uncertainties plague his mind. Returning to the mortal world has been a jarring experience, and true peace eludes him. Hyunjin wonders if he'll ever find any sort of peace, or if this perpetual unrest is his eternal atonement for past sins.

"Hold on, you see that?" Chan's voice breaks through Hyunjin's runaway train of thought, directing everyone's attention to a sudden clearing that appears before you, seemingly out of nowhere. The forest, dense and forbidding just moments ago, now yields to an expansive open space. The nearby sounds of water reach your ears, and squinting reveals the clearing's boundary—a cliff shrouded in thick fog. The archway formed by the bending trees at the cliff's edge invites them to peer beyond, where the natural sky seems to disappear. The impending sunrise has vanished from view, leaving behind a darkness that blankets the forest in a timeless haze. 

"This must be it, I can feel it." Santiago declares, drawing a deep breath as he surveys their surroundings, his senses on high alert despite his formidable power.  He didn't clue anyone else in on it, but he had a strange feeling that they were being followed the last hour of travel. When nobody else made note of it, he attributed it to the twisted curse of this place and let it go.

Is this Abysmora? Or does it lie beyond this mysterious veil of smoke? 

You wrap your arms around yourself tightly, a surge of nausea unsettling your stomach. 

"What did you say?" Chan's concerned voice breaks through your thoughts as he turns to check on you, his expression puzzled by a sound he thought he heard. 

"I didn't say anything," you reply, feeling perplexed. Had your thoughts accidentally slipped out aloud? 

"Weird. I could've sworn I heard something," Chan mutters, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

"Maybe your mind's playing tricks on you," Jisung suggests, joining the conversation. "I didn't hear anything either." 

Chan is still skeptical, approaching you with a frown. He squats down to press his ear against your stomach, and you allow the gesture, gently resting your hand on his head, the weight of the moment heavy amidst the strangeness of the situation. Standing up, he scans the group, finding no confirmation of his earlier perception. 

"Nobody else heard it?" he asks, met with shaking heads all around, including yours. 

"In Abysmora, believe only half of what you see and nothing you hear," Santiago advises, breaking the tension. "I don't wanna tempt Fate; she can be cynical. We have to pay the Coyote demon before we cross over."  You avoid eye contact as Santiago looks at you again, instead averting your eyes to the coyote demon close to the water. Somehow, your anger has shed it's skin to reveal your fragile hurt. You wonder why you aren't worthy of the truth from him, even now, after all you had accomplished.

The sight of your mysterious guide at the cliff's edge draws your attention like a moth to a flame. It hovers there, a few inches above the ground, an enigmatic presence, its form shrouded in shadow. Despite its lack of eyes, it seems to peer intently at the ground below, as if deciphering some hidden message written in the earth itself. The air around it crackles with an otherworldly energy, adding to its mystique as it stands sentinel at the edge of the abyss. 

"I'm sorry, pay him? With what?" Jisung's voice rings with alarm. 

"What do you think, my friend?" Santiago responds, unsheathing his knife. "Our life force." With determined steps, he approaches the coyote demon, and the rest of the group follows suit. It remains unfazed, its attention fixed firmly on the ground. You cling tighter to Chan, who slows to let you grip his arm. 

With a wave of its bony hand over the water's edge, a makeshift raft emerges from the foamy stream. It appears flimsy, like a discarded piece of construction material, hardly capable of supporting its own weight, let alone the rush of the rapids with you all atop it. Yet, it remains steady, held aloft by the coyote demon's power. Santiago steps forward first, slicing his palm and allowing blood to spill onto the demon's outstretched hand. Every drop is absorbed without a trace, prompting Felix to follow suit, eyeing the demon warily before adding his own sacrifice. Jisung, surprisingly, steps up next, his usually cautious demeanor overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. 

Hyunjin's turn comes next, and as you and Chan approach, a sense of dread begins to well up within you. The fear seems to seep from the ground itself, creeping up your legs and constricting your throat.   

Chan, hearing something again, looks down at you, his expression troubled. It's a sound he can't quite place, like a whisper in his mind, indecipherable yet unsettling. He blames it on Abysmora's influence, steeling himself against its effects as he watches Hyunjin make his offering. 

As you and Chan present your own blood sacrifices, the sting of the cut fades, replaced by a tingling sensation that signifies rapid healing. Chan pulls you close, whispering words of reassurance as he guides you onto the raft. "I think she's helping you," he murmurs, speaking of the unborn child you two share and her mysterious powers. You wish those powers could alleviate the nausea that still lingers, but as if in response to your wish, the sickness vanishes without a trace. 

Jisung's voice trembles with a mix of anxiety and bravado as he settles onto the raft. "How sure are we that we’re gonna survive this waterfall drop?" he asks, his words filled with a nervous energy. 

Santiago's response cuts through the tension. "You're asking the wrong questions," he declares cryptically.  “I’m still in a mortal body that has never been to Abysmora, about to go over a waterfall, what questions am I supposed to be asking right now?” 

Perched on the edge of uncertainty, you suppress a chuckle at Jisung's retort, stealing a glance at Felix, who struggles to conceal his amusement behind clenched lips. 

“The toll is paid.” 

With a final decree from the coyote demon, the atmosphere shifts. The ethereal guide dissolves into obsidian mist, and in an instant, the raft is swept into the rushing current. 

Chan's arms encircle you protectively as you bury your head in his chest. His embrace offers a semblance of security, though beneath the surface, fear lies in wait in his veins. It's not the fear of death that grips him, but the fear of loss—of you, of his brothers, Jisung; of the life he's only just begun to consider worth living. 

Chan yearns to utter words of comfort, to quell the storm raging within you. 

Casting a sidelong glance toward Hyunjin, he extends a tentative gesture of affection, seeking to bridge the chasm between them. Though initially stiff under the weight of fraternal embrace, Hyunjin gradually yields to Chan's touch. 

Across the raft, Felix's gaze meets Chan's in a quiet exchange. But before their unspoken bond can solidify, in an instant, the world tilts on its axis as the raft hurtles over the precipice, plunging into the yawning abyss below. 

For a heart-stopping moment, gravity claims dominion, and the sensation of free fall grips you all. The wind whips around you, snatching at your clothes, your hair, as you all hurtle downward into the void. 

But just as suddenly as it began, the vertiginous descent comes to a halt. The world around you seems to freeze, time itself holding its breath as the raft settles into the stillness of Abysmora's dark embrace.    "Fucking Hell—" Felix's expletive pierces the air, jolting you from your reverie. 

"Jisung, little witch, are you—" He begins to ask, worrying for the mortal passengers.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You?" Jisung's voice wavers with the remnants of adrenaline. 

"I'm... still here," you manage, your voice a fragile whisper amidst the chaos that surrounds you. 

Chan's senses begin getting assaulted by a familiar itch—a primal instinct clawing at the edges of his consciousness.

Surely, he’s not going to turn? Not now? Not like this? 

The same inexplicable murmur tugs at Chan's senses once more, this time drawing his attention squarely to your stomach. An involuntary pang of tenderness wells up within him, a protective instinct he struggles to suppress. And for that second, perhaps two, he doesn't feel his monster trying to come up for air. With a will of its own, his gaze flits away, his jaw clenching with the effort to regain control. 

‘Abysmora is playing tricks on my mind,’ Chan reminds himself sternly, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of uncertainty. He grapples with the realization that, in this strange realm, he may not be able to shield you and his daughter as he wishes. 

But the memory of Amelia, her sacrifice, cuts through the haze of his thoughts like a knife to the heart. He can still feel her absence, a haunting guilt for the price paid for their survival. Chan's arms wrap tightly around himself, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket in a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the present, to get out of his own head, to banish the ghosts of the past that threaten to consume him. 

The raft creeps languidly through the dense, murky waters, now a deep, suffocating shade of purple that seems to swallow light rather than reflect it. The waters are calm, yet their opacity hints at untold depths and secrets submerged beneath. Small islets punctuate the expanse like broken teeth, each hosting clusters of weathered gravestones that stand as silent keepers of forgotten lives. Some stones are cloaked in a dense mantle of moss, their inscriptions eroded by time, while others lean precariously, half-engulfed by the encroaching, swamp-like embrace of the water.

The air itself seems to congeal around you, infected with a sense of despair and decay. 

As the raft drifts aimlessly, a disturbing ambiance pervades, heightened by the mist that clings to every surface, weaving through the air like the breath of the isle itself. This mist carries with it an odor so foul, a blend of rotting flesh, sulfur and damp, decayed wood, that it assaults the senses, a physical manifestation of the corruption that seeps from the very soil of this place. 

“Oh God, I- I don’t feel good–” Jisung body convulses slightly as he heaves over the side of the raft, expelling a noxious, black substance—a memory of his earlier possession. The sight is disturbingly out of place against the backdrop of unnatural stillness that surrounds you. He coughs violently, a raw, hacking sound that seems too loud in the oppressive silence, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand, his expression one of revulsion and deep unease.

He speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's clear the very air of Abysmora is anathema to him, a venom to his senses.  “I can’t…I don’t think I can be here very long.”    "I don’t think any of us can…” Felix's voice carries his concern, tasting the bitterness of the venom in his mouth, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Swallowing becomes a chore as the acrid taste spreads, worsening his already noticeable thirst. He keeps his discomfort to himself, knowing his brothers need him now more than ever. Despite the absence of the Full Moon tonight, Abysmora's sky holds no celestial bodies, just an endless void stretching upward into an unseen realm. 

“Where’s Santiago?”     The question of Santiago's whereabouts lingers, as you survey the desolate landscape. Memories of the heated argument with him resurface his words cutting deep. Could he have abandoned the group at the gate, his duty fulfilled by merely delivering you to Abysmora? The worry eats at you, the fear that your past conflicts might have jeopardized the journey for everyone, with no guide to navigate the treacherous unknown ahead. 

None of you have any experience in Abysmora, a daunting realization. It's a frightening thought, to be on an even playing field with some of the strongest creatures you’ve come to know, and all the while carrying your first child.    In truth, Hyunjin has rejected the idea of forming an alliance with Santiago for some time, ever since he inadvertently overheard the conversation back at Lysandra's. Despite the pressing need to focus on capturing Santiago after the Blood Bloom, time constraints forced the brothers to prioritize other tasks. However, with Santiago's sudden disappearance, urgency seeps into their thoughts, amplifying their concerns.    Finally, the raft nudges against the mainland with a soft, almost imperceptible thud, coming to rest at the edge of a larger isle. Here, the tombs are more imposing, grander in their decay, arranged in a deliberate circle that borders the perimeter.

These larger mausoleums and monuments loom like giants, their shadows casting long, dark fingers across the ground as if to welcome—or warn—any who dare to trespass. It feels even heavier here, if possible, threaded with a history of sorrow and darkness that permeates the very ground upon which you’re about to stand.

"No time to figure it out," Chan declares, rising to his feet, his actions prompting the others to follow suit. Stepping onto the mainland, he extends a hand to assist you ashore. Meanwhile, Hyunjin swiftly rips off and repurposes the hood of his jacket into a makeshift mask, covering Jisung's nose and mouth for protection.    “There you are!” Santiago turns the corner of a mausoleum and lays eyes on you.  He seems out of breath, worked up as he shakes his head, catching up with everyone.  

And yet, despite his outward appearance of concern, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that doesn’t quite match his urgency—a subtle shift in demeanor that leaves you feeling uneasy in his presence.  You hadn’t felt this just moments earlier getting on the raft with him.  

“How did we get separated?” Santiago asks. 

You are the first to answer, unaware of the suspicions of everyone else and just relieved to see another familiar face again.  Though, that nagging doubt gnaws at your mind, whispering of the questions surrounding his sudden reappearance.   

You wonder if Abysmora is playing mind tricks on you too? 

“No idea, but we’re all here, Jisung’s getting sick, we’ve gotta get the Blood Bloom and get out of here.”  You look around, “But where is it?”    "In there." Santiago's gesture directs your attention to a towering statue of a knight, its sword thrust upward toward the darkened sky. "It's always inside the tomb of the One, the very first of our kind." Santiago approaches the statue, touching it with reverence, in a way that strikes you as odd, because it’s as if he hasn’t seen it before, and Santiago said he had taken prior trips to Abysmora, albeit via other routes. 

He must know what the tomb of the “One” looks like? Right?

Muttering under his breath in an unfamiliar tongue, Santiago circles the statue, his intent clear as he seeks a means of entry. 

Felix, ever perceptive, senses a subtle shift in Santiago's aura. Vampires as ancient as he can detect things far beyond micro expressions in mortal faces, no matter what’s wearing the skin.  It’s how they can tell when something isn’t exactly human, or when mortals lie. Yet, this time, something feels different. Is Santiago under some form of influence? What drives him to lead them into the depths of this tomb? He hears the spells the archdemon chants but doesn’t recognize the tongue. 

"Where did you land?" Felix's inquiry interrupts Santiago's prayer, prompting him to refocus his attention. As you join in the search, kneeling amidst the moist earth, the ground squirms with repulsive creatures disturbed from their slumber by your intrusion. 

 "Land?" Santiago straightens up, his confusion evident. "I just woke up behind that grave," he gestures toward a nearby tomb. "I have no idea what happened." His explanation is abruptly interrupted by Jisung's retching, the soul of this environment taking its toll on him once more. As Jisung lifts his makeshift mask to expel another bout of black, putrid vomit onto the soil, Santiago's attention remains fixated on unlocking the tomb's secrets. 

Hyunjin, growing impatient, voices his concern, stepping back to avoid the splatter onto his shoes with a lifted brow. "Can't you do something about him? We can't exactly conjure." 

"It's my bloodline—" Jisung's words are punctuated by another fit of dry heaving. "I can't—my body—" 

You spring into action, rushing to Jisung's side with mounting worry. His suffering raises questions about the influence of this place, and you fear for the well-being of his soul. 

"Jisung, tell me what to do," you plead, desperation clear in your voice as he struggles for breath. But Jisung, consumed by his own distress, cannot offer guidance. With trembling hands, you place your palm against his stomach, channeling an unfamiliar power in a desperate attempt to alleviate his suffering. As your energy flows into his body, Jisung convulses one last time before finding his breath returning in ragged gasps. 

Santiago stays oblivious to the commotion around him, his concentration fixed on the statue, lost in prayer with closed eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjin's attention wavers as he catches the scent of blood emanating from your ear, a telltale sign of overuse of your conjure. His sudden cough startles you, drawing curious glances from his brothers as he hurriedly wipes his nose, trying to conceal his reaction. The scent reaches Felix next, prompting you to check yourself, and your fingers come away stained with blood. Panic sets in as you hastily wipe your neck with your hoodie sleeve, inadvertently spreading the stain further into the fabric.   

You’ve made it so much worse, and you don’t even know it.      "This can't be what I think it is," Chan says as he uncovers something amidst the infested soil. He holds up a fragment that appears to be from a golden beret, the gold melted over one of the encased jewels, evidence of a failed attempt at destruction. "Do you see this or am I imagining things?"    Felix's heart races as he snatches the fragment from his brother's hand, his senses heightened to every sound, every scent around him. "This is it, this is... I have no doubt," he declares, his voice tight with apprehension. He turns to Hyunjin, whose eyes are fixed on the cursed fragment a few feet away. But instead of their usual crystal blue, they shimmer with a bright amber hue, a telltale sign of a loss of control. Hyunjin shuts his eyes tightly, fighting against the onslaught of disturbing images flooding his mind. He feels the creeping sensation of tiny toothed imps devouring his flesh in the depths of Purgatory, a sensation he fights against with every fiber of his being. Is it the curse or is it just him? 

Passing the fragment to Chan, Felix approaches Hyunjin; and he gently shakes his younger brother from his trance, their eyes meet, and Felix is struck by the vulnerability in those familiar baby blues, a contrast to the centuries of resilience he's come to expect. 

"Brother, what’s—how do you feel?" Felix's voice is soft, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual stoicism. He sees the innocence in Hyunjin once more, a vulnerable human amidst the vast expanse of their immortal existence. 

“Afraid, brother,” Hyunjin confesses, his voice laced with raw emotion. He blinks back the bitterness in his eyes, unable to maintain the eye contact with Felix. “I can’t go through this again. I–I can’t, I’ll die, Felix. I’ll die first.”    Felix's voice cuts through the chaos, gentle yet firm, as he addresses his brother. "Hey now," he begins, his words carrying a sense of his own certainty, a vow to himself amidst the uncertainty surrounding them. 

"I’ll die before you go through that again." 

Hyunjin meets Felix's gaze, feeling a rush of emotions within him. Even that has become foreign after being gone for so long; feeling emotions he'd forgotten the weight of. In that moment of silent connection, he senses the weight of their bond, built over countless centuries of shared trials and unspoken understanding. Despite the shadows of their tumultuous past looming over them, Hyunjin finds safety in the unwavering intensity of Felix's gaze, a silent promise of protection and support. This rediscovered depth in their relationship speaks volumes, highlighting the profound significance they both place on each other's well-being. 

━━━━━━━━   The tension in the room is filled with anger and resentment as Chan confronts his younger brother, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Hyunjin's defiance matches his elder sibling's intensity, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. 

"Are you mad, brother?! You're in bloodlust!" Chan's words cut through the air like a whip, each syllable dripping with disbelief and frustration. He can't comprehend Hyunjin's actions, can't fathom the depths of his rage. 

"Now you've killed her son?! Amelia's brother?!" Chan's accusation hangs in the air, a damning indictment of Hyunjin's actions. 

"Did her mother not take our parents from us first?!" Hyunjin's retort is sharp, laced with bitterness and grief. To him, his actions are justified, a reckoning for the injustices inflicted upon their family. 

But Chan's anger simmers, threatening to boil over as he struggles to contain his emotions. With a roar of frustration, he hurls a nearby chair against the wall, the sound of splintering wood punctuating the heated exchange. 

"Those were my parents too," Chan's voice is raw with emotion, his eyes flashing with a mix of pain and fury. "Do you not think me furious as well? Do you doubt that I too, want to drink from their hearts and watch them fall to my feet?!" 

Hyunjin stands his ground, undeterred by his brother's outburst. He remains unshaken, fueled by a burning desire for justice. 

"Yes, Christophe, I do!" Hyunjin's words are a challenge, a testament to his unwavering conviction. "I doubt you want to do anything more than run with your tail between your legs, defending a traitorous witch, the very daughter of the woman who murdered our parents!" 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the closed door, Amelia stands frozen, her hand hovering over the doorknob. A cool hand touches her shoulder, and she turns to find Felix by her side. His silent guidance urges her to stay back, to let the brothers work through their grievances without interference. 

As they move a few steps away from the door, Amelia embraces him, softly crying into the fabric of his blouse. Felix's thoughts churn with concern. The arguments between his brothers have become more frequent, fueled by Hyunjin's growing impatience and resentment. His thirst for vengeance risks engulfing him, driving them to move twice in the last four months alone. 

Felix knows Hyunjin cannot be contained, his actions driven by a primal need for retribution. Yet, despite his own fury towards Amelia's family, he understands the futility of their situation. They are newborn vampires--outnumbered, outmatched, and outsmarted without a plan. 

But what troubles Felix the most is Chan's hesitance, his reluctance to act. And as they stand in silence, away from the fight unfolding on the other side of the door, Felix can't shake the feeling that something is amiss, something he can't quite put his finger on… 

   ━━━━━━━━  

"Santiago," Chan's voice cuts through the tension, his gaze fixed on the archdemon who is still engrossed in his task. With each passing moment, Santiago's words grow more rapid, fueled by a sense of passion that borders on obsession. Chan moves closer, reaching out to get Santiago's attention. "Santiago, hey–" 

The statue begins to shift, its movement accompanied by the harsh scraping of rock and the unsettling rumble of the earth beneath their feet. Hissing echoes around you as the creatures in the soil turn aggressive, some leaping into the air with fangs bared. Hyunjin reacts swiftly, his movements a blur as he dispatches several of the creatures with deadly precision. 

"Protect this at all costs," Chan's command is clear and direct as he locks eyes with you, a brief flash of amber in his gaze before he blinks it away. He presses the beret fragment into your hand, urging you to keep it safe. 

“Come on, hurry!” Santiago hurries down the stairs into the tomb.  You tuck the fragment into your bra and the rest of you have no time to think, and you follow behind, risking the chance that being in the tomb of the very first demon in creation would be safer than being on Abysmora's grounds, exposed. 

If there was anything lurking in this strange place, they certainly know they have unwelcome visitors now.    Jisung's condition noticeably improves as the darkness envelops them, the sickness that had plagued him fading into the blackness. Yet, amidst the near pitch-black surroundings, a distant blue glow emanates from a room at the far end of the underground tunnel. Backed by a surge of adrenaline, you act swiftly, your fingers darting like arrows to ignite the sconces along the walls. Each flame catches, casting a blue hue that bathes the chamber in its glow.    As the dim blue glow from the sconces barely penetrates the darkness, Jisung finds himself momentarily awed by your ingenuity. But any sense of accomplishment is swiftly overshadowed by the atmosphere closing in around you. The tomb of the first demon ever to exist feels suffocating, each breath tainted by the heavy, musty scent of centuries past. With each inhale, Jisung's heart flutters nervously.    In an attempt to summon his conjure to navigate the path ahead, Jisung encounters an unexpected resistance, as though an invisible force is constricting his abilities. A dryness creeps into his mouth, he can’t be powerless yet?! How is this possible?! You were able to light the way without hesitation.  

"Now what?" You whisper, your voice barely audible over the silence. Turning to seek guidance from Santiago, you find him vanished once more. 

"What the–" 

"Little witch, we can’t trust him," Felix's voice cuts through the darkness, his hand pulling you closer to the rough stone wall for protection. 

"But he said–" 

"It doesn’t matter what he’s said," Felix's tone is firm, his words tinged with urgency. "We can’t trust him." 

With no other options available, Hyunjin strides ahead, his figure disappearing into the hallway, with Jisung following closely behind. There is no turning back now, no room for hesitation. You’ve come too far to retreat, your only choice is to press onward.  The confines of the tomb seem to be closing in on Chan, the primal instincts of his wolf beginning to overwhelm him. Sensing the impending shift, he knows he must act quickly, not willing to risk losing control in such close quarters, especially with you nearby. 

With a determined step backward, Chan starts to unzip his hoodie, preparing for the inevitable transformation. His voice carries a note of urgency as he speaks to Felix, his brother, and you. "Felix, you and little witch go on ahead with the others. I’ll catch up with you soon." 

Felix puts his arm around your shoulders and obeys his elder brother’s command. 

As Chan's metamorphosis reverberates through the ancient confines of the tomb, each sinewy shift heralds the awakening of primordial forces. A chill snakes down your spine at the power unleashed, but with Felix's presence guiding you onward, there's little room for fear, only purpose. 

Stepping into the chamber's heart, you feel a lack of control, like you've stepped into public in the nude. This feeling sticks to you as if you're an insect on fly paper, the discomfort follows you. Your gaze is drawn to the raised platform, where a mummified figure cradles a flower in its desiccated grasp. Against the backdrop of darkness, the bloom's vibrant hues stand in defiance, its petals swirling in an ethereal dance.  On the opposite end, Jisung stands watchful, his focus unwavering as he hovers over the coffin. Bathed in the soft azure glow of the chandelier above, the scene unfolds like a tableau of strange beauty, casting shadows that dance across the chamber's walls. 

Your breath catches as you draw near, the allure of the flower irresistible. Its petals, delicate yet sinuous, seem to pulse with a life of their own, their crimson hue a vivid sign of its unearthly vitality. And at the heart, a pool of crimson gleams with luminescence, a symbol of the bloom's power. 

"This is it," you murmur, your voice a mere whisper amidst the hallowed silence of the tomb. "The Blood Bloom." 

Jisung's brows furrow in disbelief, his head shaking in denial. “The legend I remember said it grows in the soil of Abysmora…”    Despite his hesitance, he leans forward, sensing the same energy that grips you both.  

As a sudden stillness envelops the chamber, Jisung's instincts flare, a warning pulsing through his veins. With a sense of alarm, he whirls around, calling out for his missing companions. "Felix? Hyunjin?" His voice echoes off the stone walls, met only by silence. 

Your palms grow clammy, fear prickling at the nape of your neck. "What's happening? What's wrong?" you stammer.    "Oh look, you found it!"     Santiago's voice cuts through the tension, his arrival heralded by a sense of impending doom. Panic floods your veins as you instinctively back away, only to be ensnared by a vice-like grip from behind. Your breath catches in your throat, your thoughts racing to the safety of your unborn child, as fear tightens its grip on your heart. 

"H-Hyunjin..." The name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, finally realizing the scent. Your body tenses, every nerve on edge as you struggle to keep your composure. 

Before Jisung can react, Felix is upon him, his strength overwhelming as he wrestles the younger man into submission. You look to Santiago, the sight before you twisting your stomach into knots. His head lolls to the side with a sickening crack, a grotesque contortion of flesh and bone. As his eyes roll back into his skull, his skin begins to slough off like molten wax, revealing a smaller, naked figure beneath. 

This new form is like something out of a nightmare, its skin slick with a viscous substance that oozes and drips. The creature's features are twisted and deformed, elongated limbs and sharp, angular joints giving it a disturbed appearance. Its eyes, once human, now gleam with a endless black, reflecting the depths of its sinister nature. 

As the demon's gaze fixes upon you, a shiver runs down your spine, fear gripping you with icy fingers. As Jisung struggles against Felix's overpowering grip, his frustration mounts with each futile attempt to break free. Heat radiates from his palms, a manifestation of his inner turmoil, but it's as if an invisible barrier stifles his efforts, rendering his conjure useless. 

“The audacity only a Han would have, trying to use your conjure here, now don’t you know better? Then again, you want to die, don’t you?” The demon's voice drips with malice, taunting Jisung with cruel words. 

Jisung refuses to dignify the demon's words with a response, his jaw clenched tight in defiance. Beneath his poker face, a sort of fear dances in his eyes. The demon's insight and access into his psyche unnerves him, exposing vulnerabilities he'd rather keep hidden. 

“I have a name, you know.” The demon's grin widens, revealing a mouth lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. “Do you want to know it?” 

“Oliver,” you breathe, the name escaping your lips like a curse, triggering a flood of memories from your night terrors that you'd rather forget.  "She's smart, isn't she?" Oliver's voice drips with malicious intent, each word laced with venomous glee. The knowledge that you know his name seems to egg on his perverse joy, a sickening trophy of the power he holds over you, a feeling he rarely gets to feel in his own existence. In the dimly lit chamber, his grin casts twisted shadows across the walls.   

As your gaze darts nervously around the room, searching for any sign of escape, the sound of sloshing footsteps draws your attention to another presence lurking in the shadows. With a sickening lurch of your stomach, you realize that you're not alone, the presence of another demon sending a wave of fear over you. 

The unnamed demon drags a large and furry form into the chamber, its tortured cries echoing off the walls as it's callously thrown against the unforgiving stone. Your heart sinks in your chest at the sight. 

"NO!" Your voice rings out in a desperate plea, the words torn from your throat in a frantic rush. "Hyunjin, let go of me! Stop! This isn't you! That's your brother! Felix! Felix, it's me! Y/N! You're stronger than this! All of you are!" But your cries fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the cruel laughter of the demons that surround you. 

"Chan—Chan, please," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos unfolding around you. Exhausted and defeated, you sink to the ground, your body wracked with sobs as despair threatens to eat you alive and spit you back out with no remorse.    "Y/N, stop," Jisung's voice cuts through the noise, his tone firm as he locks eyes with you from across the room. His gaze speaks volumes, silently urging you to quell your desperate pleas. In this moment of peril, communication is reduced to silent exchanges, a shared understanding passing between you both. 

With a deep breath, you stifle your cries, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Any hope of escape hinges on maintaining composure, lest you risk losing control of your conjure before it can be wielded as a weapon against your captors. 

Exhausted and defeated, you offer no resistance as Hyunjin releases his grip, allowing your body to crumple to the ground. His derisive laughter rings in your ears.    Meanwhile, Oliver's attention drifts to the Blood Bloom, his excitement obvious as he revels in the discovery.     “They really found it, the Blood Bloom!” His voice echoes through the chamber, a frenzied tirade of anticipation as he fixates on the object of his obsession. But his excitement is short-lived, abruptly cut off by a sudden surge of malice directed at the lesser demon. 

"What are you waiting for?! Bring the Mistress!" Oliver commands, his impatience boiling over as he demands action. With a hurried nod, the lesser demon scurries away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he disappears into the darkness. 

Lying on the dirt-covered brick floor, you succumb to silent tears, the weight of anguish pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. With jittery hands, you crawl forward, the distance between you and the wolf reduced to mere inches. As you nestle your face into the coarse fur of the muzzle, a gentle warmth caresses you, soothing the raw edges of your fractured spirit. 

Suddenly, in the darkness, amidst the faint scent of earths and decay, you feel it—a tender brush against your nose, followed by two more delicate licks. Slowly, you open your eyes, greeted by the shimmering gold orbs of the wolf before you. It's a curious sight, this peculiar hue, but within those luminous windows to his soul, you find an unexpected solace—a glimmer of Chan's inherent spirit shining through.    You continue to feign distress, your sobs a desperate symphony masking the turmoil within. Each movement is calculated, every tremor carefully choreographed to draw attention away from your clandestine actions. Your fingers venture into the wolf's mouth, inching closer to the razor-sharp teeth that threaten to sever skin from bone. 

As your wrist hovers over the waiting fangs, fear coils in the pit of your stomach, a visceral reminder of the perilous dance you've chosen to partake in. But you steel yourself against the rising tide of panic, a vow echoing in the recesses of your mind.     You'll fight tooth and nail, even if it means staring death in the face, for you know that within the pits of Hell lies the flickering ember of hope. 

With a nod of assent, Chan's lip twitches in acknowledgment, a fleeting moment of connection. As he closes his jaws with painstaking care, the taste of blood blooms in his mouth, on his tongue, along his gums. Through gritted teeth, you endure the searing pain.    Jisung's mind races as he formulates a plan to wrest control from the clutches of Oliver. With each passing second, the grip of the demon's influence tightens around the minds of Felix and Hyunjin, reducing them to mere marionettes in this macabre play. 

"Felix," Jisung breathes, barely audible in the hushed chamber, "Can you hear me?" 

The vice-like hold tightens, and Felix's response echoes through the silence.  

"Loud and clear, mate," he replies, the words filled with a predatory glee that reminds Jisung of exactly how different they really are from one another when it comes down to being factory reset to pure instinct. 

‘Shit’. A curse punctuates Jisung's thoughts; reaching them in this state seems impossible. Oliver's conjure has rewritten their essence, transforming them into instruments of darkness. To break this unholy connection, the source needs to be severed, and at this moment, Oliver stands as the puppeteer, feeble or not. 

As Chan discreetly drinks from you in his wolf form, Jisung's mind churns with frustration, the invisible chains of restraint still boggling him. 'If he has me restrained, there must be a physical block somewhere' he muses, a spark of realization flickering to life amidst the darkness. 'So how is he doing it? Where is it?' 

A sweeping glance around the chamber reveals the answer, hidden in plain sight. The talismans, hanging down from the ropes strung along the ceiling, catch Jisung's attention. They're no ordinary charms; they bear the unmistakable markings of Korean origin, Bujeok, but warped and twisted into a perversion of their intended purpose.  

These were crafted with him in mind, designed to stifle his magic and render him powerless. 

'Bingo'    He knows what he must do to break free from Oliver's grip, to reclaim control and turn the tide of this deadly game.   Jisung's words slice through the air with a cunning edge as he probes for weaknesses in Oliver's facade. "Possessing the minds of vampires is light work, what’d you do, a blood bind of some sort?" he questions, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Oliver's response is swift, a mixture of amusement and hubris. "Well, aren’t you an arrogant little witch?" he retorts, unknowingly stepping right into Jisung's trap. "Demons do more than blood bind to have others do our bidding." 

A smirk plays at the corners of Jisung's lips as he goads Oliver further. "I guess you haven’t figured out how to get a Han to do your bidding though, so you had to use these guys," he gestures disdainfully toward the vampire restraining him. "I mean, I get it though, you don’t look capable of doing it yourself." 

You listen with bated breath, the cool touch of the earth grounding you while Chan's watchful eyes mirror your own tenacity. 

With calculated steps, Oliver descends from the platform, each movement purposeful and deliberate. A glint of steel catches the dim light as he approaches Jisung. As the blade he wields grazes Jisung's cheek, a thin rivulet of blood appears, tracing a crimson path down his face. Oliver steps back, grinning while Felix looms ominously behind Jisung. 

In a mocking tone, Oliver scoffs, "Miss Edith couldn't care less about the likes of you." 

Despite the threat at his neck, Jisung remains steadfast, his gaze averted from Felix's predatory presence. "You're a bad liar," he counters, a beacon of defiance in the face of imminent danger. 

Oliver's smirk fades into a scowl. "I'll have your best friend drain you dry until you're nothing but a lifeless husk." 

Jisung's laughter rings out, carrying a hint of madness. “Yeah, but then you’ll have a mighty angry vampire that can conjure on your hands, and how will you handle that? Oh fuck, you can’t--”  

“You’ll just piss off your Mistress, and I get the feeling that’s a habit of yours—what was your name again?”    The demon's rage is evident, his fists clenched at his sides as he discards the knife, the sound of its impact echoing through the chamber as it hits the ground. His bluff has been called; a demon under another's command lacks the authority to make unilateral decisions, especially ones as significant as ending the lives of captives. Captives that they’ve taken the time to carefully ward against. 

For reasons unknown, they need him alive, at least for the time being. 

"You'll regret this," Oliver seethes, his departure swift as he hurries to investigate the delay in the other demon's return, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the chamber.   Hyunjin stands frozen, his gaze vacant, like a puppet abandoned by its puppeteer. Felix, unmoving, maintains his vice-like hold around Jisung, his thoughts seemingly distant despite his physical grasp.  

With resolve sparking in your weary eyes, you snatch up the knife, ready to act. 

"Little witch, hurry," Jisung urges, his voice barely above a whisper, directing your attention to the talismans hanging from the ceiling. "Cut them down—they're sapping our power."  You swiftly ascend the stone platforms, a strength from an unknown place guiding your every move as you slice through the ropes with the knife. With each talisman that falls, dissipating into wisps of blue smoke, a surge of hope fills the air. Chan, his wolf form a blur, disappears into the darkness, tracking the demons' elusive trail. Your focus wavers momentarily, but Jisung's urgent plea snaps you back to the task at hand. 

"No time, keep going!" he insists, spurring you onward. With steady hands, you continue your circuit around the room, severing the final ropes. Jisung, eyes closed in concentration, channels his purifying energy, causing Felix to recoil and collapse, overcome by the searing sensation of his blood boiling under his skin. As Jisung kneels beside the fallen vampire, a grimly determined spirit, unflinching and serious, settles over him. 

Frustration tinges his voice as he assesses the situation. “Fuck, they’re in deep.” 

You wave your hand in front of Hyunjin’s face but he doesn’t even blink.  “What can we do?” 

"Nothing, yet. We've gotta kill that bastard first." Jisung replies, scanning the room for any signs of their next move. Striding over to the mummified corpse, he delivers a swift kick to the wooden coffin, and you wince, splintering it open. With practiced efficiency, he breaks off a jagged piece of wood, handing it to you before keeping one for himself. 

“But if we have to protect ourselves,” He gestures to the two vampires, “This is the only chance we’ve got.” 

You gaze at the stake in your hand, horror coursing through you at the thought of wielding it against those who have become your kin, your protectors. 

"Listen," Jisung's voice breaks through your turmoil, his tone resolute as he senses your hesitation. “If their souls get away from us again, I can’t help to get ‘em back.  Death is a mercy, but it’s our last resort.”

You agree, though as you look at your friends, lost and locked inside of themselves, you wonder if you’ll follow through with such a promise if the moment were to ever present itself.    Retreating toward the coffin, your gaze fixates on the flower delicately held within its grasp. Without much thought, or perhaps with thought you aren't conscious of, you extend your hand, fingers brushing against the petals, taking it into your grasp. Half-expecting the tomb to quake and crumble around you, like a scene ripped from the pages of a thrilling adventure, you're startled when the chamber remains still. 

"In my dream they wanted to stop us from getting this, I don't know why," you assert, locking eyes with Jisung, an unquenchable fire burning bright within you as you secure the flower in your pocket. "The odds are now in our favor." 

You dart down the corridor, Jisung hot on your heels, fueled by your sudden fearlessness. As the cavern splits into two diverging paths, you and Jisung find yourselves back to back, each scanning for a sign of which route to take. 

Jisung's senses, honed by experience, detect a pulsating energy emanating from the right tunnel. He purposefully directs you away from it, "Go Left!" he calls out to you, his voice echoing down the corridor like a solemn decree. Without a moment's hesitation, you veer down the opposite path, placing your trust in his keen intuition as he forges ahead toward the heart of the mysterious power. In the glow of his flickering flames, Jisung continues on, his back pressed against the unyielding stone walls, each step plunging him deeper, and he can feel himself descending, guided by the flames in his palm, taxing his magick as a necessary means of sight...  You creep, as light as you can on your feet down the hall, and though you don’t sense much, you feel like you’re moving towards something, someone important. A thought crosses you, and you recognize the feeling from before, when you could sense Chan's presence.  You're just not sure how the honing mechanism works in your body. You come to a stop, straining your ears in the silence to hear anything.  How could a place so evil be so silent? Maybe that was a part of its sinister nature, you’re in a constant state of paranoia, questioning everything you encounter.  

That’s when you hear it.    A cacophony reaches your ears—a wet, slurping noise interspersed with sharp cracks and snaps. Despite the unease creeping over you, you find yourself moving forward anyway, your feet carrying you around the corner even as your instincts scream at you to flee. 

As you round the bend, the sounds abruptly cease, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. With shaky hands, you summon a burst of flame, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. You shield your eyes from the sudden brightness, snapping your fingers again to maintain control over the fire with an extended palm, its glow offering a glimpse of the scene before you. 

With a sigh of relief, you realize it is Chan, still in his wolf form, perched atop the body beneath him, methodically tearing away its limbs. Despite the gruesome scene before you, you don't recoil in horror. Instead, a strange understanding dawns upon you—a glimpse into Chan's cryptic intentions. He's systematically dismembering the body.   Catapulted into action, you scour the area until your eyes land on a discarded plank embedded with rusted nails. You don't carry natural nightvision like he does. With a snap of your fingers, flames dance along its surface, casting a flickering glow that barely illuminates the chamber. You hope, to be able to talk about how much you've improved with Jisung once you're all out of this mess. To thank him for everything's he's done for you to get this far with your conjure. Armed with a knife of strangely high quality, the one Oliver had dropped earlier, you set to work, slicing through the demon's flesh with surprising ease. It’s as if its appendages were made of gelatinous cartilage rather than solid muscle. 

With a final, resolute stroke, you lock gazes with Chan, something primitive passing between you two. Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus to the grisly sight before you: the half-mauled neck upon which Chan still labors. You issue a directive, "The leg," you command, indicating the limb lying closest to you. You direct Chan to the leg on your side, trading places to continue the task. You hack away at the remaining flesh of the neck until the head is brutally separated from its body. As the final blow lands, the detached leg collapses to the ground with a sickening thud as the wolf by your side finishes alongside you. 

Chan nudges your wrist, smearing your hoodie sleeve with the dark ichor of the fallen demon. Bewildered, you meet his gaze. "What's wrong?" 

The massive black wolf pads over to the plank, its end nears the final embers of its burn. With a sagacious air, he settles down, resting his head upon his paws. You nod in silent comprehension, scrambling to your feet and surveying the room for flammable materials. Hastily, you gather anything combustible, stacking them in the center of the chamber—a rickety wooden stool, dusty tomes whose contents held no value, and any other debris within reach. 

Chan prowls around the scattered body parts, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest, and you begin to deduce the demon isn’t gone yet.  "Let's go," you command, stepping backward as Chan joins you at the entrance. With a steady focus, you close your eyes, channeling the power within you. In an explosion of heat and light, flames engulf the chamber, forming a barrier that forces you to retreat, the intensity making you stumble and fall to the ground. Though the flames lick at your skin, they do not scorch, leaving you breathless as you gaze at your hands.    How did you just do that?!    A sharp itch on your forearm draws your attention, prompting you to hastily roll up your sleeve. To your astonishment, you find a series of canine tooth marks left by Chan's earlier bite, unhealed, the crescent pattern etched into your flesh. Frustration bubbles within you as you scratch at the irritated skin, rising to your feet just as the flames begin to dwindle.

"Fuck, Chan, what is this?" you demand, only to find Jisung's figure illuminated by the dying embers, his eyes glinting an unnatural complete black in the dim light.  He grins wickedly as he snatches your wrist tightly, looking down at the bite. “I don’t know, looks pretty bad though.”  Before you can react, he painfully twists your wrist, and darkness consumes you, consciousness slipping away as you collapse into oblivion. 

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Two

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One,

A/N: And here is Zuko's inner turmoil :3

The sound of birds was what she noticed first.

Then it was the gentle rumbling of her bed.

Blue eyes blearily peeked in the early morning sunlight, the softness of her bed prompting her to bury herself deeper under her blanket.

The rumble came again.

Groaning softly, Orora sat up, the blanket covering her pooling around her waist as she yawned, blinking sleepily in the morning sun. Getting up from Appa's tail and stretching, she shuffled forward to stand in front of the bison. The bison rumbled again, pleased to see her.

Orora smiled, reaching out to gently hug the side of his giant head. "Thanks for keeping me warm buddy." She cooed, pressing a kiss against his fur. Appa groaned loudly in response, trying to snuggle his head against her. Of course, he was much too big. The sudden unexpected push had her tumbling to the ground and onto her butt. A soft laugh fell from her lips, as Appa snuggled his nose against her as an apology.

Looking around, she realized she was the first one up. Standing up, and giving Appa one last pat, she walked through their little camp, passing by everyone as they slept.

Toph with Momo snuggled up against her, prompting the older girl to reach out and cover the younger girl properly with her blanket. Sokka was snoring away with his mouth slightly open. Orora shook her head, wandering just how many spiders he'd eaten during the night by accident. Katara with her hair open, appearing even younger in her sleep with one arm stretched out beside her while the other rested under her head. Coincidentally, the arm stretched out was her left arm, which meant that her finger with the thread tied at the end was angled towards Aang, who was asleep a little ways away from Katara. Though, it was probably not by chance that his right hand was pointing towards Katara.

Her heart softened. Had they fallen asleep looking at their strings? Maybe seeing them glow? It was so obvious how much they cared about one another. Could she go as far as to call it love though?

Maybe.....

Glancing at her own string which hung lifeless and without a flicker of color, Orora sighed to herself before walking away.

Once she was a little ways away from the camp, she quickly stripped off her clothes. Standing in her underclothes, she gazed at her reflection as she untied her hair.

While the bags under her eyes had improved slightly after a good night's sleep, it appeared her three weeks of no eating spree had taken its toll on her. She looked weak and extremely thin. Whatever muscle she had gained over the months she had trained her water-bending had started to loose mass.

But it was her face that caught most of her attention.

Her once full cheeks were thin, with her cheekbones and jaw sticking out. Her eyes appeared gaunt and even wider in her now thin face.

All in all, she looked so unlike herself.

But that ended today, she promised herself, as she slowly stepped into the semi-warm water of the Spring.

As the water surrounded her, Orora closed her eyes, allowing herself to become one with her element. She'd barely used her bending in the past month, having had no passion or energy left for it.

The ground beneath her finally gave way, and she was floating in the water, slowly going even deeper. Tiny bubbles of air escaped her, her arms suspended in the water as if she were jumping in the air. Her hair pooled around her, framing her face.

Her ice blue eyes trained at the bright sky above the surface of the water.

After so many days of inner turmoil, where her heart, mind and soul had raged against one another, right then, at the very pinnacle of her element.

She felt free.

Her eyes closed, savoring the tranquility of it all................

But then they snapped open, the calmness that had been there before was replaced with a look of fierce determination.

Straightening herself, Orora pushed her arms down on either side of her, propelling herself through the water, and breaking the surface with a loud splash and out towards the sky.

She briefly hung in midair, the that had risen with her in the form of a whirlpool receding back into the spring. Then she was falling, but the girl quickly swung her arms around her body in a circular motion, creating an icy water slide which she skated down and into the spring.

Orora didn't stop there.

Creating multiple icicles, she threw them towards the sky, allowing them to hang in midair before they began their descent. The sharp ends glinted in the sunlight, but Orora was prepared. Armed with twin water whips she wrapped the ends around two of the oncoming icicles, and using them as ammunition, struck every other incoming target until the sky rained with tiny crystals glinting beautifully in the sunlight.

Standing atop a pillar of ice, the girl threw her arms forward, prompting several sharp thin discs of ice to dislodge from the pillar and fly through the air. The discs embedded themselves into the rocky wall of their haven. And they stayed there before the sun melted them away.

With the water coming up to her waist, Orora began to swing her arms around in a circular motion. A whirlpool formed in the middle of the lake, and with every repeated movement on her part, it grew and it grew. Once she was sure it would continue for a long while, she created a large ice disk for herself and once she had secured her feet using ice to encase them, she allowed herself to be sucked into the whirlpool. Several rocky outcroppings acted as her obstacles, which she had to clear by either jumping out of the way, or break apart using either a whip with an ice boulder attached to the end or a wave of water that was sharp and thin enough to cut through it. Not to mention that she had to keep her balance to make sure she didn't fall into the water.

Slowly the whirlpool she had created subsided on its own, leaving behind a smooth calm surface.

Panting heavily, with her arms and legs now burning, she moved on to the next session of her training.

Calming down.

Freezing a large block of ice in the shade of a rock to keep it from melting too quickly, she got to work.

Once she was finished with that, she moved on to the next one.

Then another.

Then another.

Her mind was solely focused on the task, and despite the constant motion of her fingers, hands and arms her body appeared relaxed. The raging thoughts that plagued her were pushed to the back of her mind and she was so immersed in her work that she didn't realize she had an audience.

Three pair of curious eyes, and a curious pair of feet, had begun watching her almost since the beginning of her training. Now they watched her create art from four blocks of ice.

"Is that......" Katara trailed off, staring almost disbelievingly at what Orora had created. Aang, who was standing beside her nodded mutely.

Sokka was the first one to step forward, assessing what she had created with a critical eye while Orora was busy with her final ice block.

"Orora you made me too scrawny. I know I have more muscles then that." He pointed to the ice sculpture Orora had created of him. The girl in question didn't even look up from where she was bending the ice to create Aang's airbending tattoos in the ice sculpture of his likeness.

"That is exactly how you look Sokka, be glad I didn't give you Momo's ears because I can do that." She quipped, stepping away to analyze her work critically, her fingers moving to add tiny details in the ice here and there.

Katara moved to stand in front of her her likeness which was bent in a battle stance. "These are amazing! Have you always known how to do this Orora?" She asked, her finger tracing the hair loopies she used to have when wearing the attire of her Nation.

Orora, stepping away from Aang's sculpture, which the young Avatar quickly raced towards to examine, she shrugged. "I mean I have created small ice figures before as a hobby. Master actually encouraged it." She added with a small smile, placing a hand on Toph's shoulder and guiding her to where her ice sculpture glinted in the sunlight. "He said I could use my hobby as a way to calm down after a rather intense bending session."

She gestured to the spring which was now as calm as it could be. "Can you see anything with your feet Toph?" Orora asked, curious if the girl could feel the ice sculpture. Toph shrugged. "Not very clearly. I don't know." Orora hummed before taking Toph's hands and placing them against the cold surface of the sculpture.

"Here! Maybe you can feel what you look like by tracing along?" She suggested, to which Toph smiled and began to explore the contours of her face.

Aang stepped forward, smiling. "How does it feel? Using your bending again?" He asked. "Honestly?" Orora inhaled deeply before a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "It felt really good."

A loud grumble sounded prompting Aang, Katara and Toph to look towards Sokka. "That wasn't me!" He protested, raising his arms to the sky and huffing in annoyance.

Orora patted her stomach. "No that was me. I'm starving." Katara grinned, happy to hear those words come out of Orora's mouth.

"Well lets get breakfast started then!" She said, reaching out to grasp Orora's hand. The two waterbenders ran off to, discussing what to make for breakfast.

Aang looked at Katara's sculpture, admiring how Orora had captured her beauty even in ice. "Aww man! And my nose is bigger too!" Sokka complained as Toph moved to trace her hands along Sokka's ice face, before feeling for his nose.

"Actually, she made it smaller then it really is."

"Hey!"

                                         ————————–

The one good thing about Ember Island was that he could walk around and no one would come up to him and annoy him because they had no idea who he was.

Of course that meant that he was mostly left alone with his thoughts and when Zuko was alone with his thoughts, well things tended to get dark.

Especially when he didn't have anything to distract him

Or rather anyone.

Rather just one person.

Orora.

As he sat on the beach under the shade of the umbrella he shared with Mai, Zuko couldn't help be think back on his most recent vision of Orora.

She'd silently cried in front of him for a few minutes before he had blinked and she was gone. Though that didn't mean she left his mind. On the contrary, the image of her tear-stained cheeks, sad eyes and hopeless expression was seared into his brain.

Kind of like the scar his father had seared in his face.

Why was she crying? Was it because somewhere out there she was really crying? Why would she be crying though? Did someone hurt her? Did someone she know had gotten hurt?

A thought suddenly came to his mind, one that hadn't occurred to him before because......well he didn't think anyone would think of him the way Orora did.

Was she crying because of him? Did she miss him just as much as he missed her?

Because he did miss her. So so much.

A strange feeling crept up his spine, prompting him to look up beside him from where he had been idly drawing in the sand. Was it his imagination, or had Mai been staring at him?

He had gotten rather tired of her insistent pursuit, and had asked her to stop. But if he knew anything about Mai it was that she was stubborn, and would only do as she saw fit.

Ignoring her, he returned his attention to the sand once more.

He froze at what he saw there.

His idle drawings hadn't been.......well idle.

He'd actually done a couple of things.

First was a strange symbol that was a blend of the sigil of the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe within a circle. It had the three circles of the Water Tribe, yet the tops of the circles had the flickering flames of the Fire Nation sigil.

And the other wasn't exactly a drawing. Rather he had written the name of his soulmate in the sand.

Zuko stared at the name, briefly brushing the tips of his fingers along the grainy sand as she did.

Hearing his sister and Ty Lee approach, he quickly swept a hand through the sand erasing any evidence of what consumed his very thoughts.

The string tied around the finger of his right hand glowed a bright blue.

                                           ————————–

Orora's eyes widened as she grinned at Katara in disbelief.

"You didn't?!" She gasped out at the smug looking waterbender.

"I did." Katara responded, as she tossed some vegetables into the pot of water that was boiling away atop the fire. "I mean yeah, the pirates came after us and all, but we managed to escape and I learned some new waterbending forms."

The older girl shook her head. "Still, that was rather gutsy, stealing from pirates." Katara shrugged. "Well it wasn't there's to keep. Of course handling the pirates would've been easy if Zuko hadn't come along and created more of a mess then it already was." She added, not really thinking of her response.

Her eyes widened, and her hand slapped over her mouth as she looked at Orora. "Spirit! Orora, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to mention him it just slipped out and...." The girl trailed off as Orora sighed before shaking her head.

"Its alright Katara. I mean, I have to get used to you guys saying his name every now and then don't I?" She gave a sad laugh as she began to add in the spices and salt into the boiling water. "I mean, he did tell me how he chased you all around trying to capture Aang, but I guess he left out a few details."

She could ignore the sudden lurch of her heart, could ignore the ache of sadness that seemed to permeate her very soul. After all, she had to move on didn't she?

"So, he told you everything?" Katara asked, curious to know what else he had told Orora. The lighthearted conversation they had been having just moments before seemed to dissipate completely. The air around them became a little heavy with....a cautious tone.

Orora nodded. "Pretty much everything. I mean during our stay in Ba Sing Se, we had a lot of free time and we just talked about everything. Mostly our childhoods though." She smiled sadly, stirring in some noodles into the bowl. "Its strange how many things we had in common. Both our father's banished us, and we were just trying to find our purpose in the world."

A sad laugh fell from her lips as she pushed back a few stray strands of her hair from her face. "Did you know he would follow me around the city whenever I would go out?" Staring out at the clear spring with a faraway look in her eyes, Orora continued. "It wasn't really safe for young girls in the Lower Ring, and he made it his duty to make sure I stayed safe. It was one of the reasons that made me see that he actually had a kind heart."

Orora held her hand out, curling her fingers inward in an elegant motion, pulling a small bubble of water towards her. "But then I already knew he had a kind heart I mean, I was a stranger to him at the North Pole, and yet he saved me." She began to play with the water ball, holding it aloft and splitting it into several smaller balls of water. "Soulmate or no, I know in my heart that even if he had not felt that tug on his finger, he still would've saved me. Because that is the sort of person he is. He would never intentionally physically harm a person. Unlike his sister and father."

The younger waterbender held a certain amount of anger and resentment towards the Fire Nation prince, not only because of the betrayal and the fact that he had chased them for so long, but also because he had broken her sister's heart.

And yet, hearing Orora speak about him like that, as if he were nothing but a confused boy, trying to find a place where he belonged, he sounded almost..........human.

"Orora?" Katara began, frowning slightly at the other girl, though not in disapproval or anger, but rather in confusion. Once she turned to look at her, the girl continued. "Did you," Her words came out slowly. "Love him?"

Ice blue eyes blinked at her.

There was a brief stretch of silence between the two waterbenders before Orora pursed her lips. "I don't know." She finally responded, not exactly the answer Katara had been expecting. She frowned. "Why don't you? I mean shouldn't you, look at how you were after what he did."

Orora stared at the girl, a little at a loss on how to explain it to her properly. Her gaze flickered towards Aang who was practicing some earthbending moves with Toph.

"Katara, after Aang was shot, and with the way you reacted, anyone would assume that you love him." A bright blush stole across Katara's cheeks, as she too turned her head to look in Aang's direction.

Peering at the suddenly shy girl, Orora asked. "So, you tell me Katara, do you love Aang?"

Katara blinked at Orora, her heart beating fast and her cheeks stained with a blush, as she tried to find an answer to Orora's question.

Finally, her shoulders deflated and she wrapped her arms around her torso and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I.....don't know." She finally responded to which Orora gave a sad smile.

"Now you understand how I feel." She reached out to place a reassuring hand on Katara's shoulder. "But at least you have the chance to figure your feelings out, and I am going to help you because if I don't get a happy ending, by the Spirits I am going to make sure that you and Aang get one."

Katara stared at the older girl who was smiling at her. With tears in her eyes the younger waterbender pulled Orora into a warm embrace. "Woah! You alright there?" She asked, feeling the warm tears against her bare shoulder. Katara nodded against her skin.

"I'm just glad you're here." The girl admitted, prompting Orora to return the embrace just as lovingly and fiercely as it was given.

                                           ————————–

What his Uncle said had been true.

Girls being late was a universal thing.

And he had to wait for three of them to get ready to go to the stupid party they'd been invited to. Zuko hadn't wanted to go, but Ty Lee had insisted, said it would be fun to be at a normal party for once, not one of those fancy ones that the Fire Palace held every now and then.

He sat at the entrance of the Holiday Home they were staying at, staring glumly out towards the waves crashing against the beach. The sound carried over the wind, triggering memories of Orora whenever she would practice in a large body of water.

Zuko wandered if she had continued her training. Maybe she had found herself an actual waterbending Master, instead of a stand-in like his Uncle had been. Then again, his Uncle had taught her many things during the time they had traveled together. He remembered how precise yet elegant she always was when it came to her bending. Sometimes he was sure that she was dancing along with the water instead of just bending it.

She made her element an extension of herself, a trait Zuko still struggled with.

His eyes dropped to his thread which was-

"Who's Orora?"

Mai's dry voice cut through his very heart. He scrambled to his feet, turning around to face the knife-wielding girl who stood at the open doorway with a scowl on her face and a hand on her hip. "How do you know that name?" He asked, his voice hoarse as he stared at her.

His mind ran a mile a second. How could she know Orora's name? Had she been captured? Had something happened to her? Had she done something that had caught people's attentions? Worst case scenarios, one after the other, played in his mind.

"You said her name." The girl revealed. "You were calling out to someone who wasn't there. Asking why she was crying."

Spirit she had seen him that night!

"So who is Orora?" The girl asked again, narrowing her eyes at him. Zuko was frozen where he stood, trying to decide how to handle the situation.

But he had to make sure one thing before all else.

"Have you told Azula?" He asked, to which Mai's scowled only deepened. "Does it matter?" She asked in her usual flippant tone that gave away no emotion.

Fear overwhelmed him, pushing him to reach out and grasp Mai by the shoulder. "Yes!" He revealed, his voice equal parts desperate and panicked. "Please Mai, tell me, have to told Azula?"

In all her years, Mai had never seen this sort of desperation before. There was fear in his amber eyes, and the very idea of his own sister knowing some girl named Orora seemed to throw him off completely.

Finally, she shook her head in a silent response.

Instantly, his hands dropped from her shoulders to her forearms, he hung his head, his body relaxed and his breathing calmed.

"Zuko?" She called out to him, but the young prince was far away. He was reliving the nightmare he had had. The nightmare that had left him sick to the stomach and crying. "Zuko?" She said again, this time shaking his shoulders.

He finally looked up, and she could see the same haunted look in his eyes that she had seen the night when he had been calling out to Orora. Her ears pricked at the sound of Azula and Ty Lee descending the stairs.

Zuko must've heard it too, because he straightened up and stepped away from her. Whatever composure he had broken, he retained in the blink of an eye. Mai stared in amazement.

Who was this girl? One moment he had been desperately asking her if Azula knew about her, then the next he had pushed aside all he felt just so his sister wouldn't pick up on anything.

As they began to walk down the path towards the house where the party would be, Mai managed to catch Zuko's eye and gave him a look. A look that clearly said that the conversation was far from over.

But it didn't scare Zuko.

Not when the glow of his string kept him company.

                                           ————————–

His eyes narrowed, and his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth, Sokka was able to expertly tie the string through the hook. Once satisfied that it wouldn't loosen he moved to test it further.

Only to stop when he spied Orora standing at the bank of the Spring facing him where he stood atop the rock in the middle of the water. He grinned, motioning for her to come over. With a quick flick of her arms, Orora was able to create a wave that carried her towards him, depositing her safely to his side.

Sokka nodded, impressed. "Good to see you using your bending again. You're getting stronger." He praised, to which she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Not strong enough. I'm still really tired from the bending practice I did this morning."

"Well it'll take a few days before you're at your full strength. You'll get there." He reassured her as he moved to the bag he had brought with him, taking out a long thin pole with a string and a hook. "Here! Lets see if we can catch some dinner for tonight."

So saying, they both sat opposite one another, and he began to guide her on how to properly tie the hook and what was the correct way to cast a line.

Somewhere between the two lessons, she turned to him, unable to keep the question that had been burning in her the entire day.

"I don't get it Sokka." She began, to which he frowned. "Well its not that difficult Orora, you just swing your arm and-"

She batted his arm and shook her head. "No! Not that!" A moment of silence, where she licked her lips before continuing. "You lost your soulmate. I mean Yue is gone, if we look at things..........logically." She knew how much the water tribe boy liked that word. "How were you able to cope."

Sokka was silent for a moment as he untangled a string that had snagged with another. "That's the thing Orora. I was her soulmate, but she wasn't mine."

Ice blue eyes blinked at him in disbelief.

"What?"

He turned to her with raised hands. "I'm no expert but I have a theory, so just hear me out." Once she nodded he took a deep breath.

"When we go to the North Pole, and when I saw Yue for the first time, I didn't feel my string tug or anything." He revealed. "But, I did feel this strange connection with her. And it was that connection that had me going to find her and talking to her." A sad smile pulled at his lips as he attained a faraway look in his eyes. Probably thinking about Yue, Orora mused. "It was a few days later when she revealed to me that her string had tugged when she'd met me, and grown shorter, but my string remained loose."

Orora frowned. "How is that possible?" She whispered, to which Sokka shrugged. "I'm not sure. No one has ever heard of anything like that, but maybe, no one in this world was connected to her soul because it was never hers to begin with."

He looked at her, blue meeting blue. Her eyes widened in realization. "Her soul wasn't her own because the Moon Spirit gave her life." The girl suddenly realized, a gasp leaving her lips. "Her soul belonged to the Moon Spirit."

Every Northern Water Tribe member knew of the story of the young princess and how she had been given life by the moon herself.

Sokka nodded. "Exactly. If it had been her soul, our strings would've been connected. But since her soul belonged to the moon, she could never have a soulmate. At least not from this world." He added with a shrug and a smile, but Orora could see the sadness in his eyes.

"D-does that mean you don't have a soulmate?" She asked, knowing fully well how a person had only one soulmate and no more then that. Though the sadness lingered, a smile pulled at his lips.

"It was just after Katara and I met Aang. We were at this place called Kyoshi Island and I was a complete idiot to this amazing warrior who had actually captured us." Orora nodded. She had heard bits and pieces of the story from Aang and Katara, but never Sokka's perspective of it. "I though that I wouldn't see her again, but then when we were trying to get into Ba Sing Se, I ran into her again."

The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips, one that Orora was reciprocating as she slowly began to realize where the story was headed. "And because when we first met I had been a complete idiot to even realize it or even accept it, it was during that time at the Serpent's Pass that I realized she was my soulmate."

Orora sat there for a few moments, absorbing what Sokka had just told her. "So Yue wasn't your soulmate, but you were hers. Your soulmate is actually this other girl named......." She trailed off as Sokka straightened up, realizing he hadn't given her a name.

"Its Suki, and she's a Kyoshi Warrior." He added the last part with a proud grin, prompting Orora to laugh softly. "Oh I can see just how bad you have it for her." She said, punching his shoulder in a playful manner to which he blushed and shrugged.

"Well, she is my soulmate." He insisted. "The last time I saw her was before we got into Ba Sing Se, I don't know what happened after that because those Fire Nation girls came in disguised in their uniforms and well, you know how dangerous and ruthless those girls are."

That worried look in his eyes was back, and even Orora gnawed at her lower lip as her mind flashed to the three imposters, or more specifically, to Princess Azula.

If she could shoot with the intention t kill at her own Uncle, who knows what she was willing to do to someone who was a threat to her in some way.

Still, she reached out to take Sokka's fiddling hands in a reassuring manner and smile at him. "I'm sure she is alright Sokka. You would've felt it if she were in trouble." Deciding that perhaps what she would reveal would ease his pain, she pushed aside her own heartache for his sake.

"Zuko told me, much later, that when he saved me at the North Pole, he felt that my life was in danger before the string even tugged." Sokka looked at her a little surprised to hear her talking so freely about the boy who had broken her heart. "He felt it in his soul because we're soulmates, and I'm sure Suki is in no more danger then she was before, wherever she is."

The girl stood up, swinging her arm to cast her line into the water. "Fate, always has a way of leading us to our soulmates, and I'm sure, one day, it will lead you to yours in the most unexpected of ways." She added with a reassuring and hopeful smile at him.

Sokka grinned at her before following her lead and swinging his arm to cast his line into the water as well.

Only the hook at the end of it caught in the back of his shirt. And with the force of his entire body behind the swing of his arm, his shirt went halfway up his head and the sudden jerk had him loosing his balance atop the slightly slippery rock and down into the water below.

Orora was laughing her head off when he emerged, soaking wet and a tiny fish flopping about on his head.

                                           ————————–

The party was in full swing, and though the beginning had been rather awkward, what with them arriving so early, all of them had eventually settled in.

Well in a way.

Zuko was sitting in a corner, deep in thought. Though his face betrayed no emotion, inside fear and desperation ran amuck. The nightmare kept replaying over and over in his mind, and that urge to protect Orora, one that had been so profound during their stay in Ba Sing Se, rose to the forefront and he felt antsy. All because he couldn't do anything. Because he couldn't protect her.

Mai was sitting beside him under the pretense of keeping him company. As far as Azula knew, she was still trying to win him over. And Mai wanted to keep it that way.

With Azula busy making Ty Lee give her lessons in flirting, Mai turned her attention towards Zuko. "You have a small window to tell me everything about this girl." She spoke in a low voice lest someone should hear them. But with the chatter of more then two dozen teenagers around them, it would be impossible to know what they were talking about unless someone stood very close.

His amber eyes flicked to where Azula and Ty Lee were still busy, as if confirming for himself that his sister wouldn't hear him.

"Before I tell you, you have to swear to me that not a word of our conversation goes back to Azula." He finally said, unable to keep all that he was feeling hidden within. He knew he was taking a huge risk to reveal what he was about to to Mai, but he couldn't take it any longer.

His Uncle wouldn't speak to him, and he had no one else.

Once Mai nodded in confirmation he turned slightly so he could look at her properly. "She is my soulmate." He began, before everything came spilling out. He compressed his story as much as he could, not wanting to share any intimate details with Mai. Yes, he wanted so much to trust her, but he had no desire to share a part of his heart with anyone. It was difficult enough for him to share this much.

He was rather quick in completing his story, leaving Mai with many questions which she didn't voice, and he wasn't sure he could answer. Zuko waited for her reaction, to tell him off for being soulmates with the enemy. Even though it was not in his control, he could still have chosen to not be with her or gotten to know her.

He could still have chosen not to care about her.

But how couldn't he?

Somehow he doubted he wouldn't have cared about Orora. She just had a presence about her, one that drew a person in and reveal all their secrets and know that they wouldn't be judged or ridiculed for it.

Or maybe it was just a soulmate thing?

Either way, he had come to care for her. Very much. And even with the guilt of betrayal weighing down on him, he found that he missed her because he still cared for her.

Mai bit her lower lip, as if she were struggled to find the words to say. And he couldn't blame her. What he had revealed was certainly not an easy secret to keep.

He was prepared for anything she had to say.

"I found my soulmate too."

Except that.

He blinked at her, staring in utter disbelief. Mai groaned, burying her face in her hands briefly before sighing and lowering them. "I met him while I was out shopping with my Mother. It was just after we came back." She revealed. "I saw him, and he saw me, and I ran."

Zuko allowed her a brief moment to gather herself. "Why?" He finally asked, to which she blinked up at him. "Why? Because he is a commoner Zuko. I am the daughter from a noble family, they would never have accepted him as my soulmate."

He frowned, about to tell her off for thinking like that. But then she surprised him. "But then I ran into him again, and this time I stayed, and I spoke to him." A blush stole across her cheeks, leaving him utterly speechless because Mai never blushed.

"I've been meeting him in secret at my aunt's flower shop. She is the only person who knows about him, and she has been really encouraging. And I've actually started to..........like him." The reveal had blinking in utter surprise before a smile formed on his lips and he grinned at her.

"I'm really happy for you Mai." He revealed, his voice honest and true as he gave her a hug from the side. She gave a small smile in return. "I'll keep your secret about Orora, if you keep mine." The girl bargained to which Zuko didn't hesitate to accept.

They both knew Azula would try to sabotage her growing relationship. And if she were to know of Orora's true worth to Zuko, then Azula would stop at nothing to take away his one source of happiness.

"So, you've been seeing Orora, even after what happened in Ba Sing Se?" His mood sobered as he nodded. "I've been trying to distract her so I wouldn't but it hasn't been working really."

Mai tilted her head as she regarded him. "Well, the whole point of coming here was to figure ourselves out. To find parts of ourselves we had no idea existed." She stood, placing a hand on his shoulder as a comforting gesture.

"So why don't you go find yours. Maybe you'll find the answer to your questions too." With one last smile, she walked away towards the food table, leaving Zuko to stare after her, looking a little astonished at her words. Though after a few moments, his lips thinned in a determined line.

Five minutes later he was walking along a familiar path, the noises from the party dimmed before slowly dying as he walked further and further away.

His only companion, was the blue of his thread.

                                           ————————–

"I've got a bone to pick with you Ice Princess."

Orora looked up from where she had been playing with Momo to see Toph standing over her with her arms crossed. "And what did I do to offend the greatest earthbender in the world?" She asked in a playful tone that matched Toph's. The blind girl grinned in response before speaking.

"You made ice sculptures of everyone but yourself. I mean, I have a general idea of what you look like, but I want to be sure." The girl continued. "I mean what if I have to describe you to someone and all I have is that you're tall."

The older girl laughed as Momo climbed up to sit on her shoulder, chittering to get some head rubs, which Orora happily gave. "I'm not that tall Toph, I'm about Sokka's height." She corrected, to which Toph waved a hand. "That's tall enough, and you still haven't answered my question."

Orora grinned. "You didn't ask one." Toph merely crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed before setting Momo down from her shoulder. "I'm too tired to make a sculpture." She revealed, reaching forward to take Toph's hands. "So, how about you just feel for my face?" So saying, she placed the younger girl's hands on her face and waited patiently for her to start her observation.

There was a long stretch of silence, in which she stared into Toph's unseeing eyes as the younger girl traced along the features of her face, seemingly committing it all to memory. "If it helps, I have a white patch of hair on my head where the Moon Spirit touched me." She offered, to which Toph snorted.

"If I need to find you, I'll just ask people to point me towards the girl with an attitude." Orora frowned, though her lips remained pulled upwards in a smile. "I have an attitude?" She asked to which Toph nodded. "Oh yeah, its the way you stand sometimes. Like you're so sure of yourself."

Toph had dropped her shoulders a while ago, so now the girls just sat opposite one another talking. "Me? Sure of myself?" She echoed, sounding incredulous. Toph smirked. "Do you make it a habit of repeating what people have just said.

Orora rolled her eyes at the girl before adding a quick answer in the negative. "You can't be further from the truth. I mean half the time I don't even know what I'm doing." The younger girl nodded. "Yeah, but still you know what you want and you go for it. I really admire that about you." Toph revealed, which had Orora blinking in stunned silence.

Finally, the girl cleared her throat. "Yeah, well sometimes what I want isn't whats best for me. And deciding to stay with Zuko and Master, didn't turn out so great did it?"

Toph shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't, but you did what felt right and who knows, it might just turn out to be the right thing in the end." Orora smiled softly at the young girl, reaching out to take her hand and run her fingers along her lips so that she could actually feel her smile.

"I'm sorry about what I said about you not being able to find your soulmate." The older girl suddenly blurted out, the guilt of what she had said the night before finally spilling out of her. Toph was silent for a brief moment before she shrugged.

"Its alright Orora. I mean, I've always known I wouldn't be able to find my soulmate because I won't be able to see my string glow. I mean I would feel it tug but I wouldn't be able to know where they are since I can't see where the other end of the string ends." Toph explained, as Orora sighed.

"Still, maybe I can find a way to help you out. Have you ever felt your string tug?" The girl continued, curious to know if perhaps Toph had felt anything.

The long stretch of silence that followed confirmed what Orora had wanted to know.

"You have!" She cheered out, as Toph attempted to shush her. "Keep your voice down. I don't want anyone to know." She revealed. Though it was difficult, Orora was able to keep her voice down, but remained just as excited.

"Where did you feel the tug?" She asked, to which Toph sighed, knowing the older girl would pester her until she revealed everything. "On the boat after we escaped Ba Sing Se. I don't know when it started, or who it could be, but I know I felt it tug there."

Orora nodded. "Well we'll be meeting up with them soon, and when we do, I am going to find out who he is." She clapped her hands, giggling. "Oh, this is so exciting." Toph made a disgusted face, though she was pleased at the prospect of Orora helping her.

"Maybe I should start calling you Sugar Queen like I do Katara." She teased, to which Orora gasped in horror. "What?! No! I like Ice Princess."

"Then why don't you act like one?"

"What be detached and emotionless?"

"Why're you getting so poetic?"

"Well I like poetry so........."

"Ha! Forget Ice Princess, I'm gonna start calling you Lady Fancyfingers instead."

"Don't you dare!"

"What're you gonna do? Splash me with some water?"

SPLASH!

.............

.............

"Oh it is ON Ice Princess!"

                                           ————————–

He left because he didn't feel like attending the party anymore.

He certainly didn't leave because he was bitter about seeing all the couples milling about, talking, laughing, embracing, dancing.....kissing.

Those acts only reminded him of the time he had shared with Orora, and though he had relived all those moments several times since his return to the Fire Nation, his recent nightmare, and the fact that she had been crying in the most recent vision he had seen of her, made him feel guilty to even think of those memories again.

He had no right think about her, not when he had betrayed her.

Had done her wrong.

Yes, even he admitted what he had done was wrong, and yet, he had done it for the right reasons.

Hadn't he?

Though what those reasons were, even he didn't remember.

He walked along the beach, the presence of the open water beyond acting as something of a comfort for him as he slowly neared the place he had no intention of going to, and yet, he couldn't help but be drawn towards it.

Suddenly he stopped, looking up at the house that greeted him.

The Summer House where the entire family had spent happy times together.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he did.

Zuko knew she was beside him before he even opened his eyes. His gaze turned to the sea, the wind blowing his hair about, as he slowly began to recall all the happy times he had spent here.

"We used to come here every Summer before Lu Ten died. I remember playing in the grass just behind us with my father, when he was something of a father to me." He revealed to Orora who remained silent.

He moved on, the vision of his soulmate following alongside him soundlessly like a ghost. Zuko reached the path that led towards the main doors of the house. He paused, head shifting to the side towards the beach that lay just beyond. "Uncle, Lu Ten and I used to make sandcastles over there everyday before the sun set. The waves always destroyed our castles, but he said it was a good thing. So that we could come back the next day and rebuild them all over again."

Gathering buckets of water and bringing it to his cousin who always took charge. Zuko was always happy to help him however he could. Just just wanted to play with his cousin because he was just so cool. That had been younger Zuko's thought process.

Present Zuko closed his eyes against the painful memories, the ghostly presence of his soulmate, as well as the constant blue hue of his string providing him with the comfort he so sorely needed.

                                           ————————–

"Long day huh?"

Orora opened her eyes from where she'd been slightly dozing off while waiting for Katara to finish with dinner. She looked at Aang with a slow and sleepy nod. "You could say that." Stretching her arms above her head, the girl yawned.

"I feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest." The girl added as Aang sat down beside her. He smiled. "I'm glad to see you going about your day, we were really getting worried about you." He revealed, to which she gave a nod, the guilt evident in her blue eyes.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean for my grief to get so bad, but I just couldn't help it." She revealed, to which Aang shook his head. 'It wasn't your fault Orora, you needed to grieve, trust me, it's never good to let all that remain inside you and never let out."

She nodded in response. "Still, how could I let it go so far. I mean, I didn't think my feelings for Zuko went that deep." Aang's grey eyes flitted to where Katara was finishing up with dinner. "Feelings have a way of taking roots in our heart without us knowing." He said, his voice serious. "And once they take root, no matter what you do, they grow."

Orora nodded in understanding. "They stay there don't they? Forever." Aang sighed before nodding. "They might wither." He explained further. "But they stay in our hearts for the rest of our lives."

The two of them sat there side by side, lost in their own thoughts. With Aang thinking about his soulmate, and Orora thinking about her own.

"You told me, how you had to reject your bond with Katara to gain the Avatar State." A frown creased his forehead, but he didn't stop her, so she continued. "Were you almost about to reject it then? Before you ran off because Katara was in danger."

She watched as the young boy seemed to curl in on himself, appearing even younger then his thirteen year old self. "I was." He finally revealed.

"Did it hurt?"

"It....it felt.....it felt like someone......was reaching inside my chest and........ripping out my heart." He finally finished, unable to find the correct words to make her understand the feeling he had felt in that moment.

A shiver traveled through her body, a cold that came from within settling about her as she bit her lower lip and looked away.

"Are you thinking of doing that with your bond?" He finally asked, turning his gaze towards the older girl who frowned.

"I'm.......I'm not sure." She finally revealed.

The two sat together in silence until Katara called out that dinner was ready. Aang stood to help her but he paused.

Looking back at Orora, he gave an understanding smile. "I know what you're going through isn't easy Orora, but trust me, rejecting a bond no matter what the other person has done, if ten times worse then what you've been feeling lately." He paused before continuing.

"And from most cases I have seen and heard about, both parties often die after the bond is rejected. Especially if they've started to fall in love with their Soulmate."

She looked up at him, mouth agape and eyes wide.

Aang simply smiled sadly.

"Just think with your heart and soul rather then your mind before you make that decision."

He walked away, leaving Orora to sit there and think over what he had just said.

                                           ————————–

He approached the doors to the house, pulling and pushing in an attempt to open them up. He frowned when they didn't budge.

Without even a moment of hesitation, he kicked his leg out and the door swung open. He had no idea where the strength came from. Maybe the lock was just old and rusty?

Still, he paused briefly at the threshold before walking in. Dust covered every surface, and the air was thick with moisture since the place had been shut for so many years. He continued inside, pausing once he had a good view of the family portrait that hung in the middle of the wall.

"This was just before Lu Ten died." He explained to Orora. "It was our last vacation as a family, and mother insisted that we sit for a portrait. Azula and I hated every second of it, we wanted to go down to the beach and play." It felt strange, talking about his sister as if she weren't the person she was today. Zuko remembered when she had been a rather normal little girl.

That is, until, their father had decided that Azula was the one to be favored, and not Zuko.

He had hated his sister after that. For stealing away his father's love and attention.

His gaze flickered from his father to his mother. "She's beautiful." The soft voice of his soulmate prompted him to look at her. She had followed his line of sight and was looking at Ursa. Zuko nodded. "Yeah." He agreed, still looking at her.

Maybe his mother being beautiful wasn't the only thing he was agreeing to right then.

Breaking himself out of his thoughts, his amber eyes found a flat stone laying on the shelf that ran along the wall. He picked it up. It was an imprint of his own hand, when he'd been a baby.

Though he knew it was ridiculous, he laid his own hand atop it.

So much had changed since he had last been here. He wasn't the same person anymore, he realized with a jolt of his heart.

Orora's presence had gone from beside him.

And yet the vibrant blue of his string comforted him as he stood there alone.

                                           ————————–

The sound of Toph's voice, urgent and grave was what roused her from her sleep.

"Guys, you're all gonna think I'm crazy." She said, sitting up. "But it feels like a metal man is coming."

Orora blinked away the sleep in her eyes, her brain trying to process what she was saying. But then a glimmer of light had her looking for the source and her eyes widened, all sleep forgotten.

High above their safe haven stood a giant of a man. He was staring down at all of them, though, and maybe it was just her suspicion, he seemed to focus on Aang and.......her.

The hairs at the back of her neck rose, and her body tensed in anticipation of what was to come next.

Suddenly the whole world seemed to explode as the man shot fire at them.

Not from his hands or his feet.

But his head.

Aang was the one who moved quickly, attempting to block the attach using a block of earth to shield them. But the wall exploded, sending them all flying back. Orora grunted as her rolling body finally came to a stop. Despite the ache she felt, she shot to her feet, already drawing from the spring and creating two large ice spears that she kept levitating with her waterbending abilities.

Toph had managed to stay upright and earthbended a rock towards the giant, who shot another wave of fire, dissipating the rock, and aiming straight at them. Once more Aang was able to shield them using his airbending this time. But he was knocked back by the force of the blast.

Katara stepped forward, sending a large wave towards their would be killer, though it had little to no effect as the man shot another wave of fire causing the wave to explore. Not wanting to give him time to gather strength, Orora swung her arms forward, allowing her ice spears to cut through the air and towards the giant.

He was able to dodge the first one, while the second he simply destroyed with yet another wave of fire hitting a rocky outcrop destroying it on impact.

This time, dust exploded everywhere, and for a moment her vision was clouded as she tried to see what was happening. She heard Appa roar in the background, and the earth rumbled as Toph created a protective barrier around them in case the man tried to attack again.

                                           ————————–

"I thought I'd find you here."

The sound of his sister prompted Zuko to look up from what he held in his hands. Still lost in the haze of the memories he had just relived, he spoke the first words that came to mind.

"Those summers we spent here seem so long ago." His gaze flickered to the house that still echoed with the sounds of happier times. "So much has changed."

Azula, with no sentimental bone in her body, simply sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come down to the beach with me." She urged, already walked away with barely a glance at the house. "Come on. This place is depressing." She walked off, with Zuko following after her, leaving behind the stone that had his hand print.

Once they reached the beach, he realized that Mai and Ty Lee were already there. His eyes met Mai's briefly, and the two gave one another a nod of acknowledgment.

"I'm freezing." Ty Lee shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she did.

An idea forming in his mind, Zuko smiled. "I'll make a fire." His gaze shifted to the summer house they had just come from. "There's plenty of stuff to burn in there."

And though he had just walked down to the beach, Zuko began the trek back up, intent on gathering whatever happy memories he had once lived there and burning them for the lies they had been.

Fortunately, the blue of his string stayed with him along the way.

                                           ————————–

Another explosion echoed in the night as they all crouched behind the wall Toph had created.

"This is crazy!" Sokka exclaimed. "How can we beat a guy who blows things up with his mind?" They had each tried to bring him down using their bending but to no avail. Orora, still not quite recovered from her past three weeks was beginning to feel the effects of using her bending for so long that day. She still wasn't strong enough.

Aang suddenly stood up, a determined gleam in his eyes. "We can't!" he declared before looking to his friends. "Jump on Appa! I'll try to distract him!" With that he shot off.

"I hope he has a plan." Toph said nervously as they all ran towards Appa. Sokka was the one to help her up onto the saddle where she collapsed, her vision blurring slightly before clearing.

Whatever Aang had planned, it worked, and as they passed by, he jumped into the saddle. The moment he was in, Katara moved forward to hold on to him. Her arms clasped his, and Orora could see that his grip was just as tight in response.

As if they were trying to reassure each other that they were alive.

"I'm okay." He said as Momo jumped onto his shoulder. Orora looked back to where the dust still hadn't cleared where Aang had left the strange man.

"Well, that was random." Toph exclaimed.

Katara shook her head as she sat up to look back just as Orora was doing. "I don't think so." She spoke gravely. "I get the feeling he knows who we are."

The older girl bit her lower lip. "And I get the feeling that he was sent to take us out permanently, not just capture us."

A grave silence followed her words, and since no one disagreed with her, she knew her assumption was correct.

And she gulped in fear.

                                           ————————–

The wooden frame was dropped into the already burning fire, flickering immediately eating away at the portrait of the family that had been painted there so many years ago.

"What are you doing?" Ty Lee called out, sounding surprised at what Zuko had just done.

Zuko turned to raise an eyebrow at the girl. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He demanded to which Ty Lee glanced back at the fire. "But, it's a painting of your family." She said, her voice soft to which Zuko scoffed.

"You think I care?" He very nearly growled at her in anger. Ty Lee wasn't really taken aback by his anger. She was used to him anger. "I think you do." She responded to which Zuko simply rolled his eyes and began to walk away.

"You don't know me." He snapped over her shoulder. "So why don't you just mind your own business?" Ty Lee frowned where she sat, her lips in an angry pout. "I know you." She grumbled.

"No, you don't." Zuko insisted. "You're stuck in your little 'Ty Lee world' where everything's great all the time." Mai sighed from where she sat beside Ty Lee. "Zuko," She said in a chastising tone. "Leave her alone."

Angry at Ty Lee for claiming to know that she knew him, and maybe wanting to avert the attention away from himself, Zuko stepped forward. "I'm so pretty." He said, imitating Ty Lee in an exaggerated girly voice. "Look at me. I can walk on my hands. Whoo!"

He did a handstand to prove his point, but he fell on his back. Ty Lee glared at him when he uttered the final two words. "Circus freak." Ty Lee began to speak, but Zuko tuned her out, instead closing his eyes and focusing on the wind as it blew through his hair.

He zoned out as Ty Lee continued to speak, barely paying attention to what was being said, instead he tried to calm his raging emotions and thoughts by focusing on the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. It was comfort that he sorely needed, something he wasn't getting from anyone. So his solution was to think of things that reminded him of Orora, and being this close to the beach was as close as he could get.

He did manage to catch a few words on Mai's part, who, for once, was actually expressing herself. How she had to behave herself all the time and have every aspect of her life controlled by her mother.

"You guys have had it easy, try living a life where people are watching your every move every moment of the day." She finally finished, slumping back where she sat as if all that she had said took everything out of her.

Zuko sat up from where he was still on the ground. "My life hasn't been that easy either." He rebutted her statement. It wasn't that he wanted to upstage Mai, it just angered him how people took so many things for granted when he had none of it.

Mai scoffed. "Whatever. That doesn't excuse the way you've been acting." She said, referring to his tendency to stay by himself and barely speak with anyone. Ty Lee raised a placating hand. "Calm down, you guys. This much negative energy is bad for your skin. You'll totally break out." She added as a word of caution. Azula couldn't help but smirk at Ty Lee's choice of word as she glanced at her brother.

"Bad skin?" The young prince spat out. "Normal teenagers worry about bad skin. I don't have that luxury." He leaned forward with a bitter smile on his lips. "My father decided to teach me a permanent lesson on my face!" He finished with a finger pointed towards the ugly scar that marred his face.

Ty Lee winced where she sat, while Mai gave Zuko a sympathetic. Azula simply sat there, the shadows form the fire hiding the half smile on her face as she watched her brother breakdown. "Sorry, Zuko, I....." But he didn't even let Ty Lee finish her apology as he turned his back on all of them, staring out at the open waters.

"For so long I thought that if my dad accepted me, I'd be happy." His voice was bitter and cold. He had gotten what he had wanted. "I'm back home now, my dad talks to me. Ha! He even thinks I'm a hero." It just all felt so wrong, being at the Fire Palace, being a Prince again, living in all that luxury. "Everything should be perfect, right? I should be happy now, but I'm not." Lifting his head, he was greeted with the vision of Orora standing in front of him, a sad smile on her lips as she reached out to brush his hair away from his face, just as she had done so many many times.

Unable to cope with the fact that Orora wasn't really there to comfort him, he finally turned back to the others. "I'm angrier than ever and I don't know why!"

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Orora move to stand in front of him. Her figure was silhouetted by the fire. He could still see Azula on one side, and Mai and Ty Lee on the other, but all he could focus on was her.

Azula shrugged. "There's a simple question you need to answer, then. Who are you angry at?"

"No one." He responded, trying hard not to look at Orora as she stood in front of him. "I'm just angry."

"Yeah," Mai joined in. "Who are you angry at, Zuko?" She insisted.

His amber gaze darted briefly towards Orora's blue eyes before he looked away. "Everyone." He said in a frustrated voice. "I don't know."

"Is it Dad?" His sister asked, to which he shook his head.

"No, no." Sadness crept into his tone as he thought of his Father, the man he didn't feel a single ounce of affection for. A fact that was so wrong since a son was supposed to love their father.

"Your uncle?" Ty Lee spoke almost the same time as Azula did. "Me?"

Zuko shook his head, growing even more frustrated by the second. He could feel his inner fire raging, and knew he would loose all composure soon. "No, no, n-no, no!"

She was standing in front of him and yet her lips did not move. Her voice though echoed in his mind, soft and gentle like a caress. "Me?"

Zuko shook his head again, as he responded to her the same way she had asked her question. "No!" He shouted in his head. "Not you." He wish he could reach out and stroke her cheek, to prove to her that she wasn't the reason behind his anger and frustration.

"Never you."

Never her. He could never connect anything negative with her. To him, she was perfect.

So perfect in fact that knew the moment he looked into Orora's eyes he would know the answer to his own question.

She continued to stand in front of him, staring silently while the other three girls behind her began to talk, one above the other, until all three voices melded into one.

"Then who? Who are you angry at?"

"Answer the question, Zuko."

"Talk to us."

"Come on, answer the question."

"Come on, answer it."

He tried his best to not look her in the eye, to keep from breaking. But then a slight movement on her part had him gazing upon her lovely face.

She had raised a hand to press against his cheek. And though he knew it was not there, he could still feel the phantom of her touch. A touch that he ached for every single day.

And that made him even angrier.

"I'm angry at myself!" He finally yelled out, slamming down his clenched fists at his side, sending a pillar of fire towards the sky with the force of all he felt behind it. While the other three girls recoiled from the flames, Orora simply nodded at him, smiling in a reassuring manner.

Was it the wind that caressed his scar, or was it her hand?

Either way, she had disappeared, and he turned his back on the girls once more.

Azula was the first one to speak. "Why?"

His eyes trained towards the moon he spoke in a low regretful tone. "Because I'm confused." He admitted. "Because I'm not sure I know the difference between right and wrong anymore."

His Uncle did. And so did Orora. They had both known the difference and had tried to help him understand it. Maybe the reason he was so conflicted and angry about his current situation was because he knew the difference between right and wrong.

He just chose not to see it.

And that only made him feel even more confused and angry.

Behind him, his sister sneered. "You're pathetic." She turned her head away, nose in the air. Mai shot a glare at her friend, before standing up and walking to his side.

"Look I know things haven't been the best between us." She said in a low voice so that Azula wouldn't overhear them. "But if you need someone to just talk to I'm here."

Zuko turned his head slightly to give Mai a small smile which she reciprocated.

Maybe....just maybe....he had managed to find one true friend here.

Someone he could trust and who trusted him in return.

The rest of the conversation went as well as it could be expected, with Azula claiming herself to be nothing short of perfect despite what their mother had thought of her.

Zuko had felt a pang of hurt for his sister, but then he remembered all the times their mother had tried to help Azula but had failed because their father would always be there to enable her.

And that feeling died.

The only good part of the entire trip?

And no, not the part where they went back and absolutely annihilated Chan's parents Summer House.

His string had glowed a continuous blue throughout his stay on Ember Island.

Affirming his suspicions that what he felt for Orora went beyond the past the stage of simply caring for her as a friend.

No.

It was growing beyond that.

                                           ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls @aqlodun @lovelybaka

[kastalani123]

(if you prefer Ao3)

They learn about it in the slowly bubbling, uncertain high of victory.

She died a hero, Clarisse says, repeats, convinces, closing Drew’s hands around a bracelet far too innocent to make everyone’s hearts sink with just a glance. Its silver colour is barely visible beneath the blood. Drew’s hands were already long slick with crimson. She doesn’t say anything.

(The daughter of Ares tells them the story as they pick up their other fallen siblings. Nobody responds)

Fuchsia with an apple for Anders, seventeen and the loveliest relationship advisor. Lacy only manages a few words through her sobs and tears, her hair still in the intricate but effective braid he had put it in before battle.

Coral with a conch shell for Khalid, twelve with a love for anything one could find at the bottom of the ocean. Valentina grips his stuffed anglerfish so tightly that she almost tears it while making her speech about him.

Salmon with a thorned rose for Ina, fifteen and the best fighter in the cabin. Mitchell can barely stand while talking, choked by having been unable to retrieve more of her than a gnarled arm, recognizable only through the heart-shaped birthmark spanning the back of her hand.

Magenta with a dove for Sawyer, fourteen with the kindest eyes in the world. Drew lays the sword they had never wanted in the fire and watches it melt into perfumed smoke without a word.

Cerise with flowering myrtle for Jasmin, sixteen and the craftiest painter around. Aminah bites her knuckles to the blood in a failed attempt not to cry when the burning paints colour the fire in impossible hues.

… Hot pink with an electric spear for Silena. Clarisse sets the fire with a blank face, dried tear tracks gouging grooves down her cheeks.

(A grief-stained title of cabin counsellor for Drew, fourteen with the weight of her world suddenly on her shoulders. Cabin Ten cannot keep her from turning her head high, eyeliner sharper than it’s been in years.)

----------

It’s not Drew who orders all signs of Silena Beauregard to be scrubbed from the insides of Cabin Ten. 

Instead, Mitchell passes through the cabin while the others haunt around Camp like the ghosts they had avoided becoming. Carefully, carefully, he folds up Silena’s fashionista posters, picks pictures of her off the clothing clips on the strings strung up throughout the cabin, strips her bed of the flower pillows they’d all collaborated to get for her last (final) birthday, collects clothes from her section of shelves and drawers, and packs everything with even a trace of her into the suitcase under his bed. Grief echoes off the bare spaces, sandalwood perfume soaking into the walls, a vestige of one of the many lives struck short these past several days.

His siblings don’t say anything when they finally come and find him curled up on Ina’s bed, clutching her morning star plush like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to his body, the entire cabin missing key elements. Drew starts to get ready for bed, Aminah throws herself onto Jasmin’s bed and shatters, Lacy tears her hair free of Anders’s braid with a wail, and Valentina screams into Khalid’s pillows until her voice is hoarse. Mitchell swears he hears similar sounds from the other cabins.

(Rory comes the next day, backpack full of clothing designs he hadn’t bothered to unpack in his rush upon hearing about the strange happenings in New York. He takes one look at his siblings’ hollowed faces, at the bare beds, at the empty spaces, and breaks, begging for forgiveness for not being there to fight along their sides, for not protecting them like an older brother should, for working on his college projects while they fought and died for the world. Drew scoffs, lips perfectly painted, and says there’s a reason they didn’t tell him war was brewing over their last Iris Message. The others pile onto him, cursing and crying and trying to keep themselves from falling into pieces.)

----------

Officially, Silena Beauregard is a hero. She had been burned with laurel wreaths, and offerings were tossed into the fire to aid her journey to Elysium. Her photo has been put up in the Big House alongside many others, and even Mr D managed not to butcher “Silena Beauregard” for once, prompted by a centaur kick. Her name is whispered under the topic of the ultimate sacrifice, of the power of love, of the bravery of unexpected leaders.

Unofficially, the only one who speaks her name with pure reverence is Clarisse La Rue, and no one says it with such vitriol as Drew Tanaka. Her spy bracelet, still drenched in blood, has been hurled against a wall and remains hidden and gathering dust under her bed. Her cabin has been scrubbed clean of any mentions of her, her name unspoken in fear of Drew’s newfound cruelty.

(Drew builds back up the walls her siblings had dismantled with so much care, taller and thicker than ever before.)

(Mitchell retreats back into himself, the skittishness he had worked so hard to shed shrouding him in full force once again.)

(Lacy melts into the crowd like never before, burying her voice beneath a blanket of sorrow.)

(Valentina ditches her soft colours and loose wardrobe, forcing attention onto her new tastefully torn jeans and bold shades and away from her wail-wrecked throat.)

(Aminah tugs her grief tight around herself and leaves with the summer, her goodbye lacking a definitive “see you later”.)

----------

Two boys, adorned in pearls and guided by geese, arrive in a cabin full but hollow, plagued by dead siblings and a traitorous hero. Twins, they are, nine years old and unknowing of the carnage of war, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Drew scoffs and scolds but leaves them to her remaining siblings, for her sharp tongue has never been suited for introductions, and even in the wake of her death-stained rule, she will not dare shut children down so soon after arrival.

Names of all the ghosts haunting the cabin become unspoken, none willing to explain them and blemish the twins’ innocence.

It does not work.

Not when Lev walks in on Lacy sorting and resorting dozens of vials of perfumes with shaking hands and trembling breaths. Not when Ren asks Valentina about the night sky painted on the wall over an empty bed and she shuts down entirely for the rest of the day. Not when Lev holds up a mirror to help Mitchel neaten up the impulsive haircut he had given himself after a game of Capture the Flag. Not when Ren catches Drew in a screaming match with another camper over a girl he had never heard about.

Not when something weighs heavily over the empty spaces in the cabin, over the necks of their newfound siblings.

So they ask someone else.

Clarisse La Rue. Will Solace. Connor Stoll. Nyssa Barrera. Malcolm Pace.

Slowly, slowly, they collect pieces, find ways to fit them together, compare conflicting accounts. They get the story of clashing metal, raging fire, slithering scales. A frightful fairytale, starring their fellow campers as the main characters. The missing limbs, the overabundance of scars, the paranoid glances — it all clicks together, and the uncomfortable hollowness of Camp Half-Blood is suddenly apparent.

(Eventually, they ask about their own Cabin’s side of the story.)

(They receive no answer beyond solemn looks and half-hearted shrugs.)

----------

Piper McLean falls from the sky, crashing straight through the fragile roof of the system Cabin Ten has established for itself the moment she bursts with pink light.

She is… argumentative. Unwilling to cram herself into the tattered tapestry of their Cabin the war had left behind. Determined to be different, to stand out, to raise her hackles at those around her. Filled with an anger towards the paints and ruffles her siblings wrap themselves in, and unconcerned with not letting it spill over and burn them.

She challenges Drew, and they cheer.

(Will the sister-that-never-left finally come back to them?)

Drew scoffs and huffs, sharpens her nails on the sound of Piper’s voice, but does not fight.

(They have fought for so long, and she is tired, and maybe an older kid with none of the wounds that mar the rest of them is needed in Cabin Ten.)

(Within a month, Drew wrenches permission for them to leave Camp for a shopping trip out of Chiron, and they know she is coming back.)

[weirdmageddon]

ok prev this is a huge part of why i love homestuck

aside from hussie’s use of platonic forms to construct the world which i think overlays everything basically

It's an approach that resonates with the rest of Homestuck's governing principles involving simple platonic concepts giving rise to greater complexity and chaos

there’s so much thematics and symbolism and symmetry that it’s so like, logically aesthetically pleasing to my brain. you could make a college course on homestuck’s integration of archetypes and typological symmetry (card suits, chess, DNA nucleotides ACGT, western zodiac, alchemy/elementals, the god tier classes and roles). lots of stuff that comes in pairs and even numbers, products of 2 so they can always be divided into halves. everything is symmetrical i swear the structure is so satisfying. it’s quite frankly impossible list it all since some of them encompass other elements within themselves, its like a fucking fractal of duality and 90 degree angle quartets of symbols

is there a name for this kind of symbolic symmetrical dichotomy elements….but not even “dichotomy” is necessarily correct since it often comes in a tetrachotomy too. twos, fours, eights, twelves, sixteens. and always mathematically relating to each other like folding over paper more than once and counting the folds on a single sheet of paper. folded in half once there’s two sides of the single paper. folded again the other way there’s four quarters of a single paper made by two halves (the halving folds themselves split the paper into two sides and there’s two of those folds). though that’s exponential the metaphor still applies

it’s definitely both mathematical and philosophical in nature. four seasons, four temperaments, four classical elements. its present in a lot of philosophy most prominently the yinyang concept and some jungian stuff has it too. like socionics model A also does that logically symmetrical structural relationships shit that i love. its sooo my jam i love you logical patterns and relationships i love you symbolism

idk what im saying or if there’s a term for this im just rambling. if you know what im saying or know of a term for this regarding what im getting at please tell me. im just spitballin whats im rotating in my mind but cant find the words for. fuck i need to talk about this. im not even really trying to make a point about these im just pointing them out

[modkatisbacc]

Saw some folks point out that Lilly was most likely like the youngest in the Alliance, since her dad fought alongside Libby, Ray, and Maya in the War.

Consider, Even if this is more of me throwing a little bit of AU out there: Her father dies when she's twelve, and wanting to keep all the elemental masters together, Wu and Garmadon bring her into the Elemental Alliance, knowing that she already had the powers of Earth.

The other elemental masters freak out because,,, *points* that is a CHILD.

But they also understand that if she was left to her own devices (her mother passed when she was really little) then she could put herself or others in grave danger with her powers.

They absolutely deck little Lilly out in impressive weapons and battle armor.

Now here we go into heavy headcanons/au territory.

With Libby being the second youngest EM in the group, her and Lilly form a close bond.

Like her parents, Ed and Edna, Libby is great at creating things. She LOVES building- mechs, especially. With Libbys help, Lilly's first mech (the one donated to TOS I've decided) was created.

Yes they may have gone all out on safety features on the mech, but would you completely trust a twelve year old with a very large elemental mech?

One day she brings over a boy. Wu and Garmadon are WORRIED because the boy is NOT an elemental master, he doesn't even know anything about fighting. She is sixteen and could punch the head clean off someone's shoulders with her powers...

These two are worried the most because they personally made it their mission to make sure the EMs were ot being hunted or used for their powers. So, bringing in a non EM into the fold was deemed risky.

They of course warm up to Lou, who thinks Lilly is the coolest person in the world and he learns basic self defense from her.

The EM Alliance falls apart when she is only 20 . *I say that bc everyone looks like they may be in their 50's, mid-late 50's after the Merge With Lilly being a decade younger well .. she would've been a decade younger at least :/*

She gets sick after she defeats Grief-Bringer. It wasn't bad at first, she honestly just thought she may have caught a cold. Also yes, in my headcanons and AUs Cole has been born when she goes to Shintaro. I have another post going into an au-headcanon mashup (I say headcanons because it isn't necessarily disproved by canon) that I kinda want to write about some day.

Knowing she was going to get worse, she started working on making sure Cole was prepared to become the next Master of Earth. When she was feeling well enough she would leave the house (unfortunately she also didn't tell Lou where she was going most of the time fidjxjsjshd)

Refused to pass on afterwards and instead keeps an eye on her family. Is the reason SOMEONE survives stuff that he shouldn't have.

Fun Facts about Lilly!!! That are canon in my stories!!!

- She is a realm hopper. Yes this is based on the fact that she apparently spied on Garmadon while he was in the Underworld in that one comic. I haven't read it but you know. I want to do something with that knowledge.

- she isn't in the Departed Realm especially after the Merge. She's trying to keep an eye on Cole while trying to find her husband and her friends. She found Wu first, of course. And with Wu, she found Garmadon. Before the Merge she would switch between watching over Lou and Cole.

- She is the only Previous EM of Ninjago to participate in the TOS, which may or may not be canon. I say this bc of that outfit and you know... The mech....

-Cole is 9, she is 29 when she dies. Also it's freaking sad because ain't no way Ray and Maya knew this until almost a decade later. Wu keeps a close eye on him and Lou afterwards. You know since he was canonically there for his birth hello??? *According to the comic*

- fun fact about me it literally took me 6 hours to write all this in one setting bc I was at work. Lilly did this to me.

Also, if there are any timeline problems that aren't just me pushing it for the AU tell me about it so I can fix it please I don't want it to be too off the course!!!

I think that's it for now,,,

[saetiate]

FORTUNE TELLING BOOTH EVENT: requests received! here are a list of the requests we've received and are working on! you can send an ask to either ave @venustrvck or myself if you want to add/change anything

one. itoshi rin x gn!reader — temperance. dealer's choice so we went with wound tending. two. tokimitsu aoshi x f!reader — temperance. dealer’s choice so we went with drunken confessions three. wriothesley x f!reader — the emperor: enemies to lovers, nsfw, criminal au, cora's note: i'm getting the idea there might be a magic/mystical element to this based on the books u mentioned hehe :> four. itoshi rin x f! reader — the fool: childhood friends to lovers, the hermit: awkward flirting, the lovers: first kiss five. alexis ness x gn!reader — the emperor: power play, sfw six. jing yuan x f!reader x blade — the tower: yandere, the fool: childhood friends to lovers seven. itoshi rin x f!reader — the hermit: hurt/comfort, unrequited pining, the moon: friends with benefits, nsfw eight. capitano x f!reader — the emperor: royalty au. cora's note: your extra thoughts have been noted :> hehe nine. michael kaiser x f!reader — the fool: childhood friends to lovers, omegaverse, sfw. cora's note: your extra thoughts have been noted :> cute!! ten. itoshi sae x f!reader — the devil: incest, orgasm denial, cock warming, nsfw eleven. oliver aiku x f!reader — strength: forced proximity twelve. michael kaiser x f!reader — the hierophant: domestic life. cora's note: your extra comments have been noted :> thirteen. michael kaiser x f!reader — the lovers: soulmate au, angst with a happy ending fourteen. diluc x f!reader — the star: coming home, vanilla sex. cora's note: WAHH SO CUTE fifteen. tartaglia x reader — magician: artist/model, meet ugly, yandere sixteen. mikage reo x f!reader — judgement: arranged marriage, cora's note: mentions kinks so i presume nsfw :> hehe how exciting!! seventeen. wriothesley x f!reader — the fool: blind date, the lovers: mutual pining. eighteen. diluc x f!reader — the empress: motherhood, praise/size difference/breeding, nsfw. cora's note: oops i just simply forgot about breeding!! i will certainly keep it in mind, what a lovely suggestion <33 nineteen. blade x f! reader — the tower: best friend's sibling, hate sex, facesitting twenty. itoshi rin x f!reader — the sun: fluff twentyone. itoshi rin x f!reader — strength: forced proximity, nsfw, size kink/fingering/oral twentytwo. sylus x f!reader — the emperor. dealer's choice so we went with power play twentythree. kaiser x f!reader — the hierophant: domestic life. cora’s note: yo i’m like relatively chill on here but frankly the “i wanted to write this but i’m too busy so can you write it instead” or whatever you said was lowk rude as hell. however. we do have an idea for the req. say thank you to ave bc i fully wanted to chuck this out lmfao and she convinced me not to. however as punishment we will be going w a direction u probs won’t like and add angst LMAO /lh twentyfour. itoshi sae x f!reader - the tower: hate sex, cockwarming, orgasm denial. twentyfive. kaiser x f!reader - the chariot: airport meeting, work-related au, summer/vacation fling, ceo au (dealer's choice between these - cora's note: we haven't decided yet!!). twentysix. dan heng x f!reader - the high priestess: dream sharing, nsfw, body worship. cora's note: wahh very interesting!!! twentyseven. tartaglia x f!reader - the emperor: royalty au, enemies to lovers. cora's note: also very interesting :>

extra note from cora: don't worry, we're not overwhelmed by the requests!! thank you for everyone's lovely concern!! i'm under the presumption that you do genuinely like our writing if you're requesting something, and it's so exciting to be writing all of these!! i've loved everything reqed so far <33 and we're super excited to get to them!!! ahhh i'm so grateful, thank you so much for helping make our first event ever a success already <33 means the world to me!!

[summercourtship]

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖚��𝖓 (𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖉) | 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙

pairings: bruce wayne/batman x reader; jonathan crane/scarecrow x reader; edward nashton/riddler x reader

warnings/notes: a mixture between the nolan movies and the 2022 film, i.e. cillian murphy's scarecrow; robert pattinson's batman; paul dano's riddler, canon-typical violence, non-consensual drugging, smut. SEE AO3 FOR MORE TAGS/WARNINGS.

“Fear,” he smiled as if he was making a joke you didn’t yet understand, “shouldn’t control you. Not when it comes to opportunities like this.” You’re silent, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Frozen in indecision, eyes focused on a random paper on his desk. Then he said your name quietly. “Fear only has as much power as you want to give it.” You looked him in his eyes- his crystal clear eyes, penetrating and sharp in their clarity- and the words spilled from your mouth like you’d been put under a spell. Hypnotized, like always. “Alright. Then I’ll do it.” or, Reader accepts an offer to TA for Dr. Jonathan Crane's Psychology of Fear class and everything goes to shit from there.

AO3 LINK | playlist | alternate POVs

masterposts for individual characters, which includes oneshots in the STBOTDI universe: bruce | jonathan | edward

my new multi-chapter fic!! I'm super excited to share this with you all, finally! I know there is so much happening in it so I have no idea how long it will end up being because I want to give every element the attention it deserves (the first chapter is over 10,000 words long- the longest chapter I think I've ever written) edit (7.03.2024): it's finally done! I'll start posting the chapters over here again (although I highly recommend reading this on Archive of Our Own). stay tuned for the sequels and chapter edits.

CHAPTERS:

chapter one: Wash away [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter two: Headfirst [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter three: Alive, just barely [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter four: Treacherous {Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter five: Scarecrow [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter six: Karma [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter seven: Enigmatology [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter eight: Ptolemaea [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter nine: Troubled [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter ten: Yearn to escape [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter eleven: Our little remedy [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter twelve: Undone and divine [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter thirteen: His hands [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter fourteen: Exile [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter fifteen: Reprieve [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II] chapter sixteen: End [Ao3 | tumblr: I, II]

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️THREE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO THREE FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

He finds out the girl he picked up on a whim is the perfect candidate. So innocent, so submissive already, with just the right amount of Daddy issues. But she still has a lot to learn, and he's determined to teach her everything.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Sex toys. Fingering. Cunnilingus. Orgasm denial. Oral sex/deepthroating. Anal play. Creampies. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 4.9k

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

He's surprised how quickly she adjusted to her new surroundings, to the things he's asked of her, forced on her. Maybe she's still feeling the after-effects of the drug he's given her last night, maybe she doesn't understand the situation just yet, maybe she's simply the perfect candidate for this. To stay here, for him. She's barely putting up any fight, only seems embarrassed most of the time, but the way she's sucked him off has shown him how eager she really is.

Even though she still has a long way to go. Too fucking innocent.

She's that little ball of hair and limbs on his lap, curled up, melting into him, small hands that have been around his cock now gripping his shirt. Feet tucked under his thigh, deep little breaths against his chest. It's been only a few hours, and she's already so submissive. He's almost disappointed he didn't get to break her first. But maybe her defiance is yet to come. He's certainly looking forward to it.

His phone chimes on the coffee table, and he throws a quick look at the display. The courier is here. Good. Without a word, he stands, picking her up effortlessly. She hums against him, leans into him as he carries her into the bedroom. When he puts her down on the bed, leaning over her for a moment, he meets her hooded eyes. So pliant, so innocent. He can't help but lean down further to press his lips to hers.

She melts into the mattress as he pushes her deeper, putting his weight on her, elbows on either side of her shoulders as he gives himself a few minutes of a bit more much-needed pleasure before he has to leave her. She's hesitant at first, but as soon as he slips his tongue between her lips, her own jumps into action. A groan escapes him as she kisses him back with more and more confidence. His fingers dig into her hair, their tongues wrestling, his cock stirs back to life against the fabric of his pants.

He leans back abruptly, breathing a little harder, the girl beneath him panting as well, her lips parted and red, glistening. Her eyes on him. “I gotta take care of something,” he tells her quietly. She only blinks. “Be a good girl and wait here for me, okay?” The way her pupils dilate when he calls her that makes his stomach tense up. He's noticed it before, how she reacts to his praise. It's an intoxicating sight.

He crawls off her and stands, looking down at her small frame. White lace was a good choice, accents her innocence perfectly. Those little embroidered flowers barely cover anything, but it's still enough fabric to keep it interesting. She's beautiful, the way she lies in front of him, chest rising and falling, that flutter to her stomach, the little twitch to her thighs as she presses them together and tries to hide her sex. He raises an eyebrow at that.

“While I'm gone,” he says, a smirk growing on his lips, “I have a little task for you.”

He steps towards the nightstand and pulls open the first drawer, randomly picks some of its contents and throws them onto the bed next to her. Her eyes widen when she follows the gesture and stares at the colorful toys. He picks up one of the smaller dildos and braces himself on one arm as he leans over her.

“I want you to be very wet when I come back,” he whispers, gently taking her hand and placing the object onto her small palm. “Understood?”

She still looks at him in shock, and he can already tell she's never used any of the things he's presented her with. Another challenge, another thing he's willing to change. He leans back and looks down at her, head cocked to the side. His eyes narrow slightly when she doesn't reply.

“Understood?” he repeats a little harsher.

A tiny gasp escapes her and she sits up, nodding frantically. “Yes, sir.”

His hand finds her cheek, a gentle caress, thumb running over her bottom lip. He watches her intently. “Good girl.” The shiver that runs through her amuses him immensely. Patting her cheek, he then turns away and leaves her to her own devices.

Returning to his phone, he sends a message to the courier, and minutes later there's a chime on the door. His men are good, and fast, and when he looks through the things in the box that was brought up to his place, he nods in contentment. The things she left in the club, a jacket, a phone, case stuffed with some money, some keys and her ID. He's surprised that she's actually 19, when she looks quite a bit younger. Not that it really matters. His eyes scan her name, memorizing it. Fits her.

There's a folder tucked into the side, all the information they could gather on her, and the more he reads, the wider his smile gets. She is perfect, a random pick, an instinct, and it has still been the best choice. Alone in the big city. He checks her phone, swipes through pictures and messages. There's only one new message, someone congratulating her. Not many social contacts, no Mom or Dad or other relatives. Does explain a few things though. The girl definitely lacked the presence of a proper authority figure in her life, or at least someone who could give her the attention she needs, someone to hug her even, guide her through life, tell her what's right or wrong. No wonder she's so overwhelmed with his advances, yet strangely compliant at the same time.

Daddy issues.

What a perfect little thing that found her way into his clutches. He turns the phone off and puts it back into the box, then locks it securely in the safe in his office, before he focuses on the bag that came with the delivery. Clothes he ordered for her, more underwear mostly, some dresses, shoes. He doesn't plan to take her out much, not yet, so she won't need too many clothes anyway. They're just an illusion of safety for now, something she feels more comfortable in, before he'll take that away as well.

Grabbing the bag, he returns to the bedroom – and freezes. The bed is empty, except for the array of sex toys on the blanket. Untouched, unmoved. And the girl is gone. Something hot rises inside him, his hand tightens around the straps of the bag. He checks the bathroom, also empty. When he opens the door to his walk-in closet, he hears a soft little gasp, before his eyes move down to the far back where she's curled up on her side, wide eyes staring at him from under her lashes.

Like a beaten animal – and he hasn't even done anything to her yet. Not really, anyway.

He puts the bag down on a shelf and approaches her slowly. The dildo he gave her lies in front of her, just as untouched as the rest. She curls up even more, a little ball of hair and limbs, white lace in stark contrast to the dark rug she's lying on. He crouches down, hands resting on his knees as he watches her.

“What are you doing here, baby?” he asks quietly. “Are you hiding from me?”

She sniffles, shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, wide eyes following his every move. Why is she so skittish all of a sudden? The drugs probably wore off. Poor thing.

He doesn't care. His hand reaches out and grabs her elbow, pulls her closer. A little yelp escapes her. He sits down on the floor and pulls her between his legs, she struggles against him but his fingers close around her arm, squeezing harder than he intended. She winces, a deep shudder rushing through her small body when he drapes her legs over his thigh, making her lean against him. One arm securely around her, holding her with enough authority that she stops squirming, he raises the other hand and grabs her chin, makes her look at him.

“What happened?” he asks, looking at her, scanning her face, fear and shock evident on it.

She averts her eyes, chewing on her lip. He squeezes her chin.

“Look at me.”

She does, with a soft little whine, blinking rapidly, eyes glistening as she meets his gaze. “M'sorry...” she mumbles.

“For what?” His voice is stern, and she frowns at his tone.

“For... for not... doing... what you told me...” she whispers, the first tear falling from her lashes. “I... I couldn't...”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Her cheeks are bright red by now, her eyes moving over his face in frantic little flutters. “Felt... wrong...”

He watches her, letting go of her chin to move his hand straight between her legs. She flinches and yelps when his fingertips brush against her panties. The fabric is a little damp, warm against his touch. He doesn't hesitate and slips a finger under the hem, testing the waters. She turns her head away, whining softly as her blush spreads over her shoulders. “Do you need my help?” he whispers.

She only stiffens in his hold as his finger glides along her slit. Warm, wetter than he expected. He doesn't know why she was so stressed about this task or thinking she failed him. She's perfectly responsive. His lips brush against her temple.

“Tell me you need me to help you...” he breathes against her.

Her thighs twitch. “I... I need you to... to help me...” she mumbles out, burying her face in his chest in a little gesture of embarrassment. So fucking cute.

“Good girl,” he hums and kisses her forehead while his finger slips between her folds, gathers her slick and promptly dips into her entrance.

She flinches, but keeps quiet, leaning into him as he nudges her legs apart with his thumb. His finger slips in and out of her, her tight walls gripping him in a way that makes his cock throb. Her wetness gathers around him, quiet squelching sounds filling his ear. She lets out little noises of discomfort, barely-there whines, almost-sobs but in a way that doesn't seem too distressed. She's slowly adjusting, relaxing in his hold, her breaths deeper.

His thumb finds her clit, and when he pushes gently on it, she wails a little louder, her legs trembling, her small hands gripping the front of his shirt as she melts into him more. He keeps drawing tight circles around her nub, his digit pushing deep, in and out, faster, her wetness runs over his hand. The moment she becomes really still, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, he stops, pulls away, and she looks up with her lips parted, almost pouty, eyebrows furrowed, disappointed.

He smirks at her and brings his wet finger to her lips. She doesn't fight it when he slips it into her mouth, rubs it over her tongue and along her gums, pushes deeper. She freezes again, stares at him, but then she closes her lips around his finger and sucks, her tongue flicking around it, licking up her own juices. He pulls it out with a wet pop and leans down, capturing her mouth for a quick, deep kiss, sucking on her tongue, tasting her. She melts into him, clinging to him, but as soon as she starts to relax again, he lets go, leans back, leans around her to grab the dildo still lying behind her on the floor.

“Here,” he says and puts the small pink object into her hand. “If you want to finish it, do it with this.”

She stares at him, eyes wide, fingers curling around the toy, her face flushed. And then she shakes her head, catching him off guard.

“No?” he whispers, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Her breaths are loud through her nose as she holds his gaze, not saying anything.

He narrows his eyes. His first instinct is to grab the toy and shove it deep into her tight pussy himself, but he refrains, pushes her off his lap and stands, then grabs her wrist and drags her out of the closet. She stumbles after him and yelps when he throws her onto the bed.

Scrambling to her knees, her lips parted and trembling, she stares at him with her eyes wide in shock. He ignores her for now and walks to the bedside table, rummaging through the drawer until he retrieves a little teardrop shaped object, bright pink as well, smooth silicone with a little antenna.

A high-pitched squeal escapes her as he grabs her and pushes her onto her stomach, one large hand on her lower back, holding her down as she starts to squirm. “Stay still or this'll be more uncomfortable than it should be,” he tells her through gritted teeth. She stiffens, her breaths loud and frantic as she white-knuckles the sheets.

He moves the toy between her ass cheeks, pleased to see the butt plug is still in place. Nudging it slightly, he makes her wince. Pushing her legs apart a bit more with his knee, he slides her underwear aside, grabs her thigh to steady her and lets the small vibrator glide between her slick folds, and it's only a little push of his thumb before it slips into her, swallowed up by the tense muscles of her pussy. She lets out a strained whine. He wipes his palm over her mound gently, then tugs on the fat string until he finds the thicker bit at the end. The button clicks audibly when he presses it, and she gasps when the first vibrations shake her body. It's low, but still definitely overwhelming for her.

He puts her thong back in place and grabs her elbow, dragging her off the bed. Her legs are trembling, the low hum between her twitching thighs barely audible, but he hears it, sees her reaction to it, feels his blood pumping into his cock, the throbbing almost painful, and he wonders why he's taking his time with her. He could have had her last night, this morning, any time he wanted, fucked her hard and mercilessly, any hole he desired, and yet he waits, eases her into it, with a patience (or restraint) that surprises himself.

Sighing loudly, he grabs her hand and leads her out of the bedroom, she follows him on shaking limbs, too stunned to protest now. They reach the open kitchen, and he grabs her waist and sets her on the island, hears the faint clanging noise when the base of her plug hits the marble top. Spreading her legs, he steps between them, braces one arm on either side of her, stares down at her darkly.

Her eyes are wide, glistening, shock and uncertainty on her face, but there's also a deep blush and a tightness to her lips as she fights the sensations pulsing through her small body. Her hands fidget between her legs, a nervous little gesture. He rips them away, tells her to sit on them. She does with a bit of hesitation as she watches him with bated breath. He leans in, lets his breath fan over her cheek, then kisses the corner of her mouth, and there's a jerk in her neck as she turns her head, trying to meet his lips.

He pulls away before that, exhaling through his nose. His hands move over her legs, thumbs brushing along her inner thighs until he pushes them against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her wetness seeps past it already, staining the white satin bit, and he licks his lips at the sight. His restraint is slipping, he can't help it, he can smell her arousal, and it's driving him insane.

In one swift motion he grabs her hip, pulls her to the edge and leans down to press his mouth to her inner thigh, quickly kissing up the soft skin to where the little pink antenna pokes out of her. His free hand tugs at it, then he drags her panties aside and closes his lips around her folds. She yelps softly, body jerking against him. His fingers dig into her flesh, hold her in place as he laps up along her slit, gathers her sweet wetness on his tongue, drinks her up like a man parched.

She whimpers when he sucks on her clit, teeth grazing her soft, sensitive skin while he fumbles with the toy and presses the button a few more times, feeling the vibrations increasing, her hips jerking, thighs pressing against his head. Her noises are getting louder, helpless whines and mewls as she squirms on the counter, hands still squished under her legs while he continues to eat her out with a passion that he hasn't felt in ages.

Holding her with one hand, he tries to counteract her uncontrollable twitches, while his other hand rubs over her thigh before his index finger pokes at her entrance, following the toy inside. It's thrumming hard against her tense muscles, and he pushes it around a little with his finger before he finds the right spot, and that's when she really wails, body spasming against him, the heels of her feet thudding loudly into the cabinet as she tries to ground herself somehow.

He holds the toy pressed to her g-spot, still sucking on her clit, eyes moving up to watch her lose it in front of him. She's arching her back, head tilted upwards, chest pushed out, arms trembling before she can't keep her composure any longer and pulls her hands from under her legs and grabs his hair, two sets of small fingers with an iron grip that surprises him. Either to push him away or hold him right there, he isn't sure. Whatever the case, he lets her, gives her that one moment of control.

Her walls tighten around the toy and his finger, rhythmic clenching, her orgasm is so close, she's right on the edge, and it's that moment that he hooks his finger around the toy and pulls it out, leaning back, slipping from her suddenly limp fingers, and leaves her throbbing and panting, watches her deflate as her orgasm slips away again. A whine escapes her, and she falls backwards onto the counter, body convulsing without release, hiding her flushed face behind her shaking hands.

He straightens himself, licks his lips and then his finger, puts the vibrating toy on the counter before he turns it off. She's sobbing now, overwhelmed and left hanging. Poor thing. But it's not over yet.

Hooking his hands under her arms, he hoists her off the counter and pushes her down on her knees in front of him. She's too surprised to react, slowly lowers her hands and looks up at him, tears streaming down her red cheeks. Without a word or command, he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants, then snaps his fingers at her. Despite her trembling state, she follows the order instantly, automatically, that inborn desire to please stirring within her, when her small hands move up to push his pants and underwear down enough to free his erection.

The initial touch is almost enough to push him to the edge and over, but he braces himself, puts his hands on his hips and watches her as she closes her fingers around his length, slowly stroking up and down like he's shown her. Her eyes stay on him, watching him closely, and he tilts his head, pressing his lips into a thin line, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. He sees her swallowing, and barely a second later, her lips brush against his hot skin, the contact enough to coax a little groan out of him.

He watches her closely as she moves her lips up and down his shaft, tongue licking along his bulging veins, circling his tip, flicking over his slit, before she opens her mouth and takes him deeper. She's a little hesitant, careful, one hand still on his girth, the other braced against his thigh as she slowly bobs her head, lips closed around his tip, cheeks hollowed, the little suction really tempting his self-control. He wants her to find her own pace, get better on her own, learn to pleasure him properly, but he also really wants to fuck her throat and make her choke on his cock. The struggle is real.

His hands move to her head, a gentle little caress, fingers sliding through her hair, slowly nudging her closer, she shifts on her knees, the hand on his thigh pulling her into him. Her eyes are closed now, and he can see tears forming under her lashes as she keeps moving her head back and forth, the hand that's tight around his girth keeping her from taking him deeper. He feels her warm mouth, that little tongue flicking around his tip, hot and wet, sucking softly, almost meditatively, and he can't help it, he bucks his hips slightly against her, his cockhead poking into her cheek when she turns her head with a little muffled whine.

One of his hands moves down to grab her chin, holding her in place, head slightly tilted, as he repeats the same motion, pushing into her mouth, watching her cheek bulge. He hasn't noticed it before, but she's a natural at keeping her teeth out of the way, her jaw opened wide enough to allow him to slip in and out fairly easily. Her eyelids flutter open, and she meets his gaze, her eyes glistening, pupils dilated more than he has expected. She's enjoying this, huh?

He smirks at her, moves her head a little and tilts her chin up before he pumps his hips a little harder against her, more of his cock slipping into her small mouth. She stiffens, both hands now gripping the fabric of his pants, bracing, a sliver of panic in her eyes. He watches her closely, the grip on her chin hard as he concentrates, holds back, fights the urge to just fuck her cute little face. His breaths are quick and loud through his nose.

She holds still, doesn't fight it, and he uses that submission to move faster and eventually slips deeper, feeling his tip prodding the back of her throat. She gags almost immediately, a sudden reflex, her body convulsing against him, fingers digging into his legs, and he lets her pull back with a deep cough, saliva dripping from her lips. But he only lets her relax for so long, before he pushes his cock back into her mouth, deeper, to that spot once more, and she gags again, spit filling her mouth, coating his tip, yet this time he holds her head in place, and she lets out a pained little howl, muffled but clearly distressed.

Sighing, he grips her hair and pulls her back again, lets her catch her breath, swallow the excess spit. Tears stream down her face, her eyes are red, eyebrows furrowed, a helpless expression mixed with something like indignation looking up at him. A low laugh escapes him, and he grips her chin and pulls her back, cock slipping into her mouth, her tongue scraping along the underside, frantic little breaths through her nose, warm on his skin.

“Relax,” he tells her, and strangely enough it's that command that lets him slip deeper, past her gag reflex, further into her tight throat. It's only a few seconds though before she gags yet again, fingernails sinking into his legs, that little uncontrollable twitch as her body fights the new sensation of having her throat stuffed. She gurgles, desperate to breathe, too panicked to relax anymore. He pushes her away, and she splutters, spit and precum flying from her trembling lips, her shoulders shaking.

It takes all of him to loosen his grip on her, but when he lets go of her chin and her hair, inhaling deeply, she looks up almost surprised. Bracing his arms on the counter behind her, he closes his eyes, fighting the urge to make her choke again. That feeling when her throat tenses around his tip, squeezes him, it's something he enjoys a little too much, almost as much as watching her suffer through it, with her tears streaming down her face and her hands digging into his legs, that desperate struggle for control.

He'll force that urge right out of her, soon. Another time.

“Suck,” he grunts instead, standing still as he leans over her.

She resumes her ministrations, one hand around his girth, pumping and stroking, while she closes her lips around his tip again, sucking and licking it, keeping it far away from the back of her throat. She's shaky and sloppy, her wet slurping noises echoing through the room, her body still trembling, but she somehow manages to bring him right to the edge after all. He feels his balls tightening, his stomach tensing up, his cock throbbing in her hold. His hands itch, clenched into fists on the counter, his body shivering. So close. So fucking close...

A deep groan escapes his throat, and he leans back abruptly, grips her hair and pulls her off him, a sharp inhale coming from the girl beneath him. Her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, and he just ignores her, hooks his hands around her elbows and pulls her to her feet. She's that tiny body he can manhandle however he wants, and she ends up on her stomach on the counter, short legs dangling off the edge, feet kicking before he cages her in, one hand on her lower back, the other moving straight to the little shiny knob sitting between her plump ass cheeks.

Before she can comprehend what's happening or try to fight him, he drags her panties aside and pulls the plug out with a plop, puts it on the counter with a clang, before he grips his throbbing cock and pushes the tip against her sphincter. She lets out a surprised wail, her hands reaching back to swat him away, but he only grabs them and bends her arms behind her back, held by one large hand. She still struggles as he pushes further, forcing his tip deeper. He doesn't have time to prepare her properly, he's close to exploding.

She whines, writhing on the counter despite his unrelenting hold, and he watches her tight muscles give way to him, the grip almost as good as her tensing throat. His crown slips in, and he stops, letting it rest there as he strokes his shaft hard and fast, until he feels that tension finally dissolve. He comes with a deep grunt, arching his head back, feeling his cock throb and twitch in his hand and in her ass.

Spurt after spurt shoots into her tightness, filling her up until the first drops seep past the tight ring of muscles that clench around him involuntarily as she squirms helplessly, sobbing softly. When he relaxes against her, shoulders sagging, the grip on her arms loosening, he wishes he'd prepared her better, made her more pliant, open her up properly to take more of him. But this'll do for now. Once the twitching subsides, he gently pulls his cock out, watching her ass gape for a moment, his thick seed slipping out almost immediately.

He pushes it back in, feeling her tense muscles close around his finger. Then he grabs the plug and brings it back into position, holding her down again as she starts squirming more, the cold metal slipping into place, plugging up his warm cum. He exhales deeply once he is done, and when he lets go of her and steps back, he can't help but slap her plump cheek once for good measure.

She sobs louder, but remains lying on her stomach, legs dangling off the edge, immobile, all the fight gone from her body. He watches her as he puts his spent dick back into his pants. “What a good girl you are,” he whispers, noticing a wave of goosebumps rippling over her skin. His hands are on her round rear, gently sliding up and down, thumbs teasing between the cheeks. He fixes her thong, nudges the plug, smirks when she flinches at the motion.

Then he grabs her waist and pulls her off the counter, turning her so he can scoop her up into his arms. Despite her reluctance and the fact that she's still crying softly, she leans against him, needy little fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. No matter how hard she fights him, fights the sensations and experiences he gives her, she is clearly craving this, his attention, the care he gives her afterwards, the gentle moments after however rough he treats her.

It's a good dynamic. It'll work, he's sure. She will be absolutely perfect.

He carries her into the bedroom, carefully putting her down on the bed. She immediately rolls onto her side, knees pulled up to her chest, wiping at her wet face, avoiding his gaze as he watches her closely. When he leans down, she flinches, but he only grabs the edge of the blanket and drapes it over her small body.

“Rest now,” he tells her, straightening back up. “I'll order us some food.”

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

End notes: Just a little side note on where this story is set: it could be literally anywhere (where there are skycrapers or a downtown area with taller buildings). I did not have a specific place in mind, could be any major American city, could be a bigger European city, anywhere you like to think of. It doesn't really matter anyway. (And if it is set in America, just imagine his club to be one of those more lax ones where the drinking age isn't 21 or at least nobody cares about it.)

Also, you may have guessed it, but our male protagonist is a little bit more than just a nightclub owner. I won't go into too many details, just know he's influencial, if you'd like to call it that. And definitely intimidating enough for anyone to bow before him, not just our poor girl who might just be a little in over her head at this point.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[atarathegreat]

Help For A Price. Eren Jeager

This was hell. Absolute hell. You had only just moved to the area, and the neighbors seemed nice enough... in the beginning. Across the road was the Powell's, the wife had brought you a couple of lamps to welcome you to the area. A strange gift, you thought, but a nice gesture nonetheless. To the left of them was the Watts', a sweet family with three daughters, they threw a potluck to welcome you, gave you a beautiful chance to meet everyone.

Everyone else simply tried to offer help when they could, though never went out of their way to help. You didn't mind, not really being the type to want the attention from others.

You spent the first week getting settled in, fixing the furniture how you wanted it, stocking the kitchen, making sure your bills were on auto pay. You even baked some cookies for the neighbors, taking them around at the same time, thanking them and telling them to ask if they ever needed anything.

Except that, after the potluck, no one would even wave at you. The Powell's never answered if you knocked, the Watts' often dragged their kids in when you tried waving. It was upsetting, but what really could you do? They were entitled to do as they wished, even if it hurt your feelings. There was only so much you could do. Each option consisting of you staying up at night to overthink everything you did. Had you said something wrong at the potluck? Maybe the cookie recipe had been messed up and you accidently made them all sick? What if you accidently offended them just by... being?

You tried going about your day. Everything was bright and happy and perfect, the coffee smelled amazing, and you could hear the Watts' girls in the street playing. You made a mental note to by signs to remind drivers to slow down.

"Wait, Kristy! Wait for me!" It was Nancy screaming, probably begging for her turn on the scooter or pogo stick. There was an element of childishness to it, but the girl was only twelve, Kristy being fourteen, and the eldest, Betty, was sixteen. Three lovely girls with great personalities and even better looks. From their mother, you think, but you never dwell on it.

Kristy is fast, in track from what you heard at the potluck, and you know she's hurrying away so that Nancy can't have whatever it is she has.

A small chuckle bounces softly from your lips and to the kitchen around you, quickly shut down when you hear a furious scrubbing from out front. You moved fast, almost too fast, and just barely missed rolling your ankle. Any other day you would be grateful for the weird locks on the window, but right now you need to throw it open. Stinging pain shoots through your fingertips as you slam the window open, shoving your head out.

"Mr. Watts?"

The girls father is scrubbing at the side of your home, sleeves rolled up and sweating in the bright sunlight. Yet the second he hears you and sees you staring at him, he bolts. Bucket and scrubber left behind as he scoops his girls up and races inside.

How strange? Your house wasn't dirty and there weren't vines growing up the side. It made more sense when you got outside. There had been rumors about gangs or mobs running the areas in your new city, but you had hoped, in vain, that they were just rumors. With the intricate sun design and the wings instead of sun rays flashing at you in bright blue paint staring at you, you could no longer deny the facts. You lived in gang territory, and for whatever reason, your neighbors were hiding it from you.

Day after day you could hear Mr. Watts scrubbing at the slate grey siding of your house, making you lucky that you had at least nabbed a single photo of the symbol. The families only further distanced themselves since you caught on, the girls wouldn't even go outside to play if you were home. Each day, during whatever free time you were able to find for yourself, you were busy searching up gang logos, local gang tattoos, even businesses with wide reach to the city's casinos or big businesses. There was only one that seemed to keep popping up: Titan Corp. A colossal business with nearly thousands of smaller business branches. It seemed like the best place to start. But how did you even get in contact with the leader of a mob?

"Hello, Titan Corp. How can we help you today?" The accountant sounded bored over the phone, a little uninterested in her job.

You cleared your throat and spoke clearly, "I was wondering if, uhm... if the don was available?"

That sentence seemed to gather her emotions, "Are you trying to die?"

"No, no. I just... I'm having a problem, and I could use a counsel with him?" You sounded so dumb.

This is underground business we're talking about! You were just going to ask for a meeting? Yes, sir, I was wondering if it was your organization putting a hit on me? head ass.

"Tomorrow at noon."

She hung up without letting you confirm, so you figured if you showed up and died it would be your own fault.

Eren was getting fed up with Zeke following him around, bitching about some stupid event that Eren couldn't give two fucks about. There was a certain line in the sand that Eren didn't want to tread and risking his pacts with other organizations because of his RBF like attitude wasn't where he wanted to tiptoe.

"As the leader here, you have to go, Eren. Don't you understand that? Grisha left the company to you because he knew it would do best in your hands." Zeke was nearly fed up, as well, his younger brother never heeded his warnings, "There are some events you can't sit out on. Especially the ones thrown by you!"

"I know that." Eren growled as he sat behind his desk. Of course he knew that. Zeke always complained about him not wanting to be at the parties. The elder leaders would always ask him when he was going to get married, when he would have an heir. All for them to be able to solidify some semblance of a pact through children's friendships. It was all a business ploy to keep things under control. "There's no point in making an appearance, none of them recognize me as the leader. Our pact is paper thin." Eren glared up at Zeke, who was busy checking something on his phone, "What?"

"An appointment?"

Right as Zeke spoke, an accountant opened the door, her blonde bun done tightly in place, "A civilian, sir. Requested counsel."

A civilian requesting counsel wasn't normal, so Eren sat straighter and waved for the person to come in. "You must have some sort of brain rot to be coming in here willingly." Zeke eyed you as you sat across from Eren's desk. It was strange, you were strange. Willingly coming in, ignoring Zeke, not saying a word as you pulled your phone out and slid it to Eren. He knew the symbol, shared a border with them and a trade route. "Yeah?" He looked up at you.

You explained everything. From moving across the ocean and not even having a job yet to the neighbors acting strange and finding the Watts cleaning the symbol off your siding. Zeke didn't seem to really care that much, but Eren was livid.

"The Sons of Icarus have marked you. Probably for being an outsider. There's nothing we can do." Zeke waved you off. But Eren had other thoughts. He knew the location, just on the edge of his territory. He wouldn't stand for intimidation tactics in his city. "They live in my city; they have my protection from that alone."

"And the debt?"

You caught him a little off guard with that, but it all felt too easy to you. There should've been more of a discussion, right? Deliberation? Maybe intimidation from them?

Eren had problems, a lot of them. Perhaps you thinking there would be a debt for his protection could benefit him here. Multiple birds with one stone, as he saw it.

"I'm throwing a party for local leaders. An event to showcase ourselves, essentially. You'll accompany me." Eren nodded. There was steam coming from Zeke's ears, "What the hell are you thinking?! That will jeopardize our trade with Sons of Icarus!"

"They're trying to operate in my territory. I have every right to answer to their disrespect. And what better way than to have the target they're after on my elbow, hm?" Eren smirked, "Not only that, but it will get some of the old crones off my back about an heir if they believe I have started dating. I see all of this as a win, brother."

Zeke didn't like it, but it was the most subtle way to enforce borders and power. After all, they couldn't just let the Sons move in on the territory. That would paint them as weak and that would ruin business.

Now it was out of hand. The way Eren wouldn't take his eyes off you, the outfit his little brother had picked out for you, it was all too much and more than unnecessary for making a subtle scene. Many of the Sons of Icarus were peppered in the building, a few glaring at the way you smiled next to Eren. You were the target they wanted, and now out of nowhere you were cozy with a trade partner. They couldn't exactly target you now, for risk of starting a small war among the orgs. And Eren could do little more than flaunt you around to show you were under his protection.

"Are you enjoying the event?" Eren whispered in your ear, smirking as he handed you a glass of champagne. The way you proudly wore the clothes he picked for you was enough to make him keep his eyes on you. It was the confidence, the smile, the openness you displayed while also hiding everything about you. It was like you studied the basic mafia tropes and molded it into a personality. Eren wasn't sure how to feel about the way that it was working perfectly for you. "It's very fancy, a little overwhelming, but not too terrible." He loved the way your smile never wavered.

"Good. You'll be doing this a lot; I hope you know." Eren nodded, "You'll need to, so that they know you're close to me."

You really didn't, but it was a nice way to keep you close to him.

[tworavenswriting]

Bloodstream (A Spawn Astarion x Original Female Character Fic)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Series summary:

When Astarion and Aly (Tav) decide to be friends instead of lovers, he thinks it is the right decision. It doesn't take long for him to realize he's wrong, especially as he watches her fall in love with the wizard.

Now, after the endgame events of BG3, Gale has left Aly behind to pursue 'greater ambitions,' and Astarion is left to pick up the pieces. Will he finally get to reverse his mistakes and turn his best friend back into his lover?

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Rating: Explicit/18+

Setting: Canon compliant. Post-endgame.

Tags (will be added as the series progresses): Blood drinking. Pining. Slow Burn. Sexual tension. Eventual fluff and smut. Canon-typical violence. Non-con elements.

Preview:

Despite the growing distance between them, Aly had come with Astarion to stop Cazador’s ascension without question. It was she who yanked him from the beam that was drawing his essence into his old master. She helped him realize that taking the ritual’s power for himself wouldn’t bring him happiness. It was she who he called for as he wept on the ground, she who had held him close.

The following morning, he’d thanked her. It was perhaps the most genuine thanks he’d ever given. How could it not be? She’d saved him. She was the most wonderful person he knew. And he’d let her go.

This was the first time Astarion knew that he’d made a mistake.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Prologue: The Spaces In Between

Chapter One: Two Minds And All The Places They Have Been

Chapter Two: Wake Up

Chapter Three: Look Me In The Eyes Again

Chapter Four: They Can Cut You Open

Chapter Five: And Then The Silence Surrounds You

Chapter Six: I Need to Feel...

Chapter Seven: …Your Hand Upon My Face

Chapter Eight: Words Can Be Like Knives

Chapter Nine: They Can Cut You Open (II)

Chapter Ten: I Can Feel You Behind My Eyes

Chapter Eleven (Raphael's Interlude)

Chapter Twelve: I Try...

Chapter Thirteen: ...To Put My Finger On It

Chapter Fourteen: I Think I Might've Inhaled You (SMUT!)

Chapter Fifteen: Haarlep's Interlude

Chapter Sixteen: I Can Feel You...

All Works AO3 Link

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Belphie

Part One of A New Series

Question One: If you were the last person on Earth, how would you spend your time?

After catching up on sleep, I'd probably just walk around and see what I could find.

Question Two: If there was one day you could repeatedly re-experience, which day would you choose?

The day that MC kissed me for the first time.

Question Three: Can you describe yourself in three words?

Tired, angsty emo.

Question Four: If you wake up tomorrow and forgot your name and/or identity, what would you do?

Go back to sleep, honestly.

Question Five: Who are you, really?

Ask Beel and MC.

Question Six: If you could live in a different time period or era in the human world, which one would you choose and why?

None, because they all suck. Unless I could take MC with me, which in that case, I'd go wherever they'd want to.

Question Seven: Which is better: having superficial knowledge about a wide range of things or thorough knowledge about a few things?

The latter, but make sure it's about things no one would expect you of knowing so that you have the element of surprise.

Question Eight: If you were able to download your memories into a searchable spreadsheet, would you do it?

There are some things that are best left buried deep in the recesses of the mind, so no.

Question Nine: Would you rather float alone in space or at sea?

Whichever ensures the quickest death.

Question Ten: Would you swap places with an alternate version of yourself from another timeline?

No, because chances are, that alternate version of me is more active and hence has more responsibilities, and I am a lazy individual.

Question Eleven: If you could communicate with animals, which one would you talk to first?

Spiders.

Question Twelve: If you had the power to grant a wish to someone, who would you choose and why?

Honestly, I'd choose Simeon. He makes me look mentally stable, and I just want him to be able to relax for a little bit.

Question Thirteen: If you were lost and had just enough battery on your D.D.D. to make a single phone call, who would you call?

MC. They're the most level-headed out of everyone.

Question Fourteen: Does your life need more love, romance, friendship, or intimacy?

Intimacy.

Question Fifteen: If you could do anything you desire with MC for a day, what would it entail?

A hotel room with a charmed door and soundproof walls.

Question Sixteen: If you were on a dating game, what question(s) would you ask?

Honestly, the first question in this interview.

Question Seventeen: Would you rather spend a fancy night on a mountain or camp on the seashore?

Seashore all the way. The view's better there.

Question Eighteen: Is your life a drama, tragedy, or comedy?

It's a fucking soap opera that's gone on for far too many seasons, and I don't mean that in a depressed way, but in the way that the drama in my life is becoming more and more absurd as I get older.

Question Nineteen: Would you date an alien if you thought they were hot?

Depends.

Question Twenty: If you were a vegetable, what would you be and how would you avoid getting eaten?

I'd be horseradish, because it's one of the few foods Beel will not eat, and thus I'd ensure my survival.

Question Twenty-One: Would you rather have looks, brains, or riches?

Brains. Looks fade, and money disappears.

Question Twenty-Two: If you had to wear your emotions on your clothing, how would your outfit look today?

Like I'd rather be in bed.

[mr-laveau]

-hands you my Love listener and also all my actual love ily booboo-

One. They have been called Love and/or Asset and will name themselves Ariel.

Two. Unfortunately, we already know all there is to their backstory 😭

Three. They’ve played around with the idea of lots of aesthetics and have settled on a sort of pastel, casual look with academia elements.

Four. They’re gender-fluid, so they switch from male, femme, and androgynous presenting on a whim.

Five. (Now that I’m really reading these questions, I’m so sorry for sending you an Android 😂) Marcus is an anime nerd in the worst way, so Ariel was deffo made with East-Asian features.

Six. They were made to look in their early twenties.

Seven. Slender and androgynous.

Eight. A Scorpio, though I’m not confident about that answer, I’ll admit.

Nine. Anton, who is the only person they feel likes them, and James, who is the only person who they feel respects them.

Ten. They’re still discovering hobbies and interests but so far, they’re enjoying listening to music and learning piano.

Eleven. Hmm, I think it’d be interesting if it was Psyche, Greek Goddess of the Soul, since it could be argued whether they have one.

Twelve. RedactedAudio 💕

Thirteen. Ariel is a sex-neutral/averse ace, so when they do sex without the obsession-code, it’s done with curiosity and the partner’s pleasure as the main priority.

Fourteen. Hmmm… that’s a new question for me. I think they actually don’t know yet.

Fifteen. I am Not a Robot by Marina and the Diamonds. It unironically makes them feel a lot of things.

Sixteen. Lowkey Natalie Portman’s character in Ex Machina.

Seventeen. Almost like a stock photo or a model’s shoot. They are symmetrical and physically attractive, beautiful almost, but there’s something impersonal about the stiff way they hold themselves and the lack of emoting on their face.

Eighteen. They really want to meet a dog. EDM music confused them and holds up appeal. They wish they could try coffee and lemons.

Thank you, my love 🧡

LaVeau-gue - design #003 - Asset/Love - Ariel - Lexi Sun

You are most welcome Lexi, always an honour to get to work with my first redacted friend, especially when it comes to this bean, Ariel! I still remember a few of the details from our previous conversations in regards to how you see them so I hope this does them justice!

Design Notes

Approaching Ariel's design, I had already had remembered conversations with you in regards to previous inspirations you'd mentioned for your take on Love. I also added in a bit of my own inspos to the mix to see what would take

For Ariel's design I wanted to keep in mind the solid collection of notes you'd written up so I could incorporate as much as I could whilst also condensing the design so I could make it simple to redraw (as I do with some of my other designs). My main focus when getting into this design however was to create a human and android Skin similar to how I'd made my Asset, Prim.

A big inspiration I had for them was Jenni from My Life As a Teenage Robot and Hatsune Miku so I decided that white metallic plates reminiscent of Jenni would work and blue hair similar to Miku would tie things together. Additional, I also chose to include colours from the PM title cards to establish that visual parallel .

As for clothing, I followed your instructions as best as I could, creating an androgynous fit that was pastel and had hints of academic elements! On top of that, I incorporated musical notes as a reference to the singing Ariel from the Tempest and the little mermaid does and to reference her proclivities for piano music. To reference back to your choice of Psyche as a god to represent Asset, I included butterfly designs on their overalls. To balance the whole pallette I combos the PM pallette and the pallette of their clothes which ended up being pretty readable overall! Another fun fact is that I also ended realizing that Ariel shares a clothing pallette with my Caelum!

Wanna have your listener designed by me? Check out my rules for LaVeau-gue and send an ask my way! Also, currently I am looking for money to replace my computer so any interested parties who wanna help can check out my commissions!

[luna-loveboop]

Linktober masterpost

Well. That was a wild ride. Fun fact- I never planned on doing Linktober this year! Because I am not the best with 2d art, I just kind of assumed I couldn't. But on the literal first. Day. Of October, my adhd brain realised that I could do an October challenge in another medium- mainly eggs. I've been doing egg carvings for years, so I figured I could just. Carve eggs.... for Linktober... and then I did it??

From there it quickly evolved into a random personal challenge to see how many different art mediums I could stuff into these prompts. I carved rocks, glass, bottles, etc... about halfway through the month I ran out of eggs and had to wait for my chickens to lay more. And then on a random whim I actually finished all thirty one days, falling behind twice. Go figure.

Links below (hehe). I crack myself up sometimes (that's an egg pun).

{Day- prompt: subject, medium/material}

Day one- mirror: sksw link, egg

Day two- friend/companion: midna and wolf link, egg

Day three- zelda: sksw zelda + harp music and loftwing, egg

Day four- night/dark: remlit, egg

Day five- sacred: totk secret stone, x smoll egg

Day six- horror: ww redead, blue glass pane

Day seven- royalty: mipha, egg

Day eight- tunic: bunny lu legend, egg easter bunny reblog

Day nine- mystery: math meme + timeline lu wind, egg

Day ten- species: ww fishmen, opaque blue glass pane

Day eleven- dance: totk riju, brown glass bottle

Day twelve- favourite game: skyward sword + fi link duet music, blue glass pane

Day thirteen- link: the master sword, a fucking rock

Day fourteen- fairy: lu fairy hyrule, glass bottle

Day fifteen- sword: the master sword and triforce, duck egg

Day sixteen- time: totk zelink, poem and ink art

Day seventeen- dragons: farosh, doodle

Day eighteen- shopkeeper: beedle, doodle w/ words

Day nineteen- reward: purple rupee, carved and painted inside duck egg

Day twenty- mask: lbl puppeteer, egg

Day twenty one- spirit: tp skull kid and sarias song, green glass bottle

Day twenty two- favorite character: marin, a rock

Day twenty three- element: the wind waker, egg CONT. on egg day twenty nine

Day twenty four- deity: demise, egg

Day twenty five- ganon: ooa trident, egg

Day twenty six- echo: twilight princess music, egg

Day twenty seven- rest: lu wind yeeting onto sky, egg Meme reblog

Day twenty eight- bones: botw bokoblin's campfire, egg

Day twenty nine- deku: ww link deku leaf, egg CONT. on egg from day twenty three

Day thirty- mount: sksw zelda and loftwing, egg

Day thirty one- free for all: cucco with eggs and lu chain with words happy linktober 2024, egg

I did finish them all in October! The last couple posts' timestamps might say November first, but I posted them right after midnight. Anyways. I'm proud :D

Everyone has been so very kind and encouraging- thank you guys. Truly. I love you, my friends.

Thank you to everyone but mainly my trusty pink sweater, that somehow made the perfect background for pictures of eggs.

Link to my favourite post I've ever made. Please remember you are loved

Happy Linktober guys!!

:)