#and fae was the only person there that didnt try to kill her so they had to team up or something

[sparklecur]

unrelated but last night i had a weird dream where the radiance and fae were both dragons and they went to a furniture store. and also some ye olden tavern and there was a food fight

[the-dairy-of-a-normal-person]

Thoughts abt the folk of the air series : Taryn

Ik that most of the tfota fans hate Taryn, saying she's not a " girls girl ", stating her as worse than Locke. But lets just take the story from an other poin of view, from her's.

Taryn saw her parents getting murdered, was raised by their murderer. From that, her goal was to be to fit and being accepted into this new world, without never forgetting what brought her there. In tcp, we learn that she is closer to her sister and it is important to know why. Because i think she is more ratached to the mortal world, where she's from, than Jude is. Were Jude decided to fight back the pain, Taryn decided to survive it. She has every right to be annoyed at her sister for making things worse at school, getting them more and more bullied. She also wants to be accepted in this world were she grew up, and she still love's her sister no matter what. She also wants a bit of power, like hef sister. Jude said they are 2 ways of getting into high court : 1st by marrying "nobel" , 2nd by being accepted into some prince/sses court. Taryn chosed the 1st one, to survive. She got the attention and affection from one, loved him maybe, but for this engagement to go trough, had to watch her own twin dating him. Taryn didnt "steel" Locke from Jude, she just had to endure it, suffering in silence bc, remember, Locke made her promise not to tell anyone who she was engaged to. He putted a geis on her. In all of this, her sister was driffting apart from her, one of her few supports. The coronation day comes up, she's put away from the bloodshell. The fight between the twins comes up, she doesnt want to fight, her sister keep talking abt her dignity, her trust but what abt TARYN'S dignity, what abt her being trown into the mud for month, what abt her also trying to survive into this realm. Then, she discovers that her sister has been associated with their no 1 bully.

She marries Locke, not knowing the bog rivality btw him and her sister. She lives between party's, into the pure life of the faes, living as one of them. She stills care abt her sister, even though they on a cold. Jude is working with the person she ( jude ) hates the most. Taryn has built a life for herself, has her own house to take care of, being free to do as she likes with no one to control her or to judge her. She still has contact with Orianna whom she is closer, finding her as the thought of a mother figure, her adoptive dad is still working as high general, bc in her point of view, as she was told and saw, their dad did some wrong things but not worse than the reality. And she really doesn't care about battles and strategy. That's Jude's thing. Then she gets kidnapped to the undersea, and deals are made to bring her back. By this time, she doesnt know if her sister is still alive, she feels coupable, it happened the night of her wedding. She's probably confused and turns to Madoc, he knows strategy and all that, he might help. She follows his lead bc, well, he raised her, and she knows he loves Jude, probably more than her. He always admired her courage and her strenght, almost making her act like a red cap. But he is also secretly disapointed in the "simple" path tha Taryn chose, and loves her enough to disaprove of her match. So when he asked her to ask cardan to leave half of the armys to madoc. Plus, it could maybe hurt Cardan a bit, a sort of small personal revenge on the years of bullying. So she made herself pass for jude. And it worked. She might also be seeking, deep down, Madoc's approval, showing that she could be as twisted as her sister. But Jude got exiled.

Life with Locke must have been more and more difficult, but she endured it. Until, somehow, one day she cracked and killed him. Desesperate, she goes to her sister, the one who knows about murders and all of that. Her only option. And she is with child. By this time, she has realized how wrong Madoc was, and could not go to him. Her sister agrees for her help, a few days later Cardan comes busting into Vivi's appartement, in search of her twin. Why would he care ? He hates her. Then, she goes back to elfhame, finds her father murdering her sister, his favorite daughter. She finds out that Jude married the high king , the cruel bully, and she might still hate him and all of these must be part of one of her scheme. War happens etc. she got reedemed from the murder of her husband, discover that Jude actually loves Cardan, somehow but she is never forgot how they used to humiliate them, how he bullied them and was cruel to a lot of other people.

This deep dive has been on my mind, especially the Taryn arc and got more into it when in the prisonner's throne oak said smth in the lines of " she never really pardonned cardan for his action when they were at school " and that they never got along. A lot people hate taryn without never questioning why she did what she did. We see the story from Jude's pov, which means we tend to forget what taryn doesnt know.

A lot of people say that they would like the trilogy with Cardan's pov but as much as i love him, it would be a lot interesting to read it on taryn's pov. Know how she tinks, what's her goal in life etc.

[kob131]

"Roast: Avalon Le Fay and Morgan’s whole set up. Like, civilization wise. Put as much plot related stuff in as you like at least." you got this ask before but you didnt know much about the plot so I would like to here it again know that you do know

Well I forgot about that ask before so very well.

You know, it's a personal theory of mine that Mordred picked up her administrative talents from Le Fay. I mean, it makes some kind of sense. Le Fay, or at least one of her personalities, grew up under Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall, then Uther alongside Igraine. Naturally at some point, she must have picked up some level of ruling know-how. And Mordred knowing these kind of skills despite having never been raised like an heir by Arturia kind of knocks it down to Le Fay passing it on, if only to try and trick her into thinking she'd actually get the throne.

The reason why I bring this up is because it kind of puts into perspective just how much a fuck up LB Morgan really is in the ruling department. Yeah, the Fae are nothing but selfish, entitled bastards who do nothing but take the most dickish route possible to their goals but that's in their nature- they lack human morals as well as human pragmatism to know that all this backstabbing would kill them off. But at the point that Morgan showed up- She knew all this. She knew the Fae were effectively ungovernable creatures, down to their very nature. She knows that everything about them yearns for death and the end of their world for the sins they committed, to the point of incarnating a version of VORTIGERN to kill them all. And yet she still decided to rule over them.

Not out of ideals or beliefs mind you. She abandoned her ideals and beliefs as a person when she became a tyrant. Morgan gets next to NOTHING out of this situation except some vague love for Britan that Le Fay had and passed on. But the thing is- Britan WANTS the Fae to die. Britan WANTS them to all die off and for the Fairy Isle to crumple for their sins. The aforementioned Vortigern is an INCARNATION of its will to die- she is going against the wishes of the very thing she supposedly loved. And all for what at that point? Not her happiness, not the Fae's happiness and certainly not Sith's. She went through all that pain and effort for...what in the end? Instinct? Routine? Proving a point to Arturia? Nothing. She got nothing in the end.

And the saddest thing? It didn't NEED to be that way. By the time Sith came around- it was a Lostworld. Morgan along with whoever she wanted could have just crossed the barrier of light and escaped that accursed land and lived outside of it. Yeah, the world is barren but Chaldea still exists. Morgan could have helped them unbleach the planet and give Sith a place to live in peace. She could have taken the child she supposedly cared for, given up her foolish dream and give her a better life. And not, I dunno, ignore her 99% of the time, bitch at her when the child SHE raised screwed up and do nothing to help her. For fuck's sake, MORDRED has a better sense of self and self esteem than Sith. And Mordred bases her identity in no small part on Arturia with about as much self esteem as her dad.

You wanna know what the one thing that really proves how foolish Morgan was at the end? Even assuming Morgan survived killing Cerennous, which considering Arturia Caster's end is unlikely- She would have STILL needed to deal with Oberon. Or rather, Oberon-Vortigern, someone commanding what is basically a mobile black hole that Morgan has shown no counters against. And even if she did- Oberon could easily just summon some catepillars to fuck with her and then have her fall into the damn thing. And all because she ordered Barghest to burn the Welsh forest to the ground, killing all the insect fae...who were keeping Vortigern in check under the guise of Oberon. Morgan's own actions KILLED her country.

She worked for nothing and then killed her own chances at any meaning. And it's all her fault.

[bloodycassian]

Rhys x reader - reader is a winter court runaway who the bat boys find almost freezing to death. longer! - I'm also interested in writing for the crescent city universe if that's something you guys would like. absolutely no Ruhn x Bryce though. It made me uncomfy reading it!! what did yall think about the weird (IMO) tension between Ruhn and Bryce?

Cold seeping into your bones, the dark figures looming above didnt comfort you into the sweet embrace of sleep that you wanted. Sleep or otherwise would be welcome at this point. You could no longer feel your body, besides the painful shuddering your core would occasionally give.  "No-" You heard a deep voice snarl. Then there was ripping, and rustling among the dead leaves on the ground. The sickly sweet smell of their decay made you grimace further.  "We have no time Rhys. We need to go now." A gravelly voice said calmly.  "I cant-" There was gasping and suddenly you were being lifted, warmth caressing under your knees and around your back. You sighed into the relief the welcome heat brought.  Rhysand's legs quivered as he watched his brother pick you up. His eyes brimmed with shock and tears. His mate. How could the cauldron be so brutal? To make a Winter Court noble his mate. To make such a politically powerful family's heiress his. His partner. His everything. A threat to Kallis' throne was his person. His tether that now speared him to the spot Cassian held him in. His heart yearned, wide and open and firey with rage. He had no doubt Kallis himself had a part in this. Azriel's shadows were warm against your skin.It contradicted every rumor you'd ever heard about the spymaster killing in a cold beautiful way. Your lips chattered as you tried to form words. "Who-" You attempted, but were shushed by the male carrying you.  The last thing you remembered before passing out was the bite of wind and a sound of branches breaking under someone's heavy footfall.  + Rhysand wallowed. He didnt care if he looked like a simpering love sick teenager.. But his brothers were concerned. He hadn't eaten or seen you since he had felt that bond snap into place. His chest constricted at the very thought of you. He flew, in the dead of night. Once he had made sure you were alive and stable he just left, flying and flying without a purpose or a place in mind. He didnt doubt that Azriel knew about it.  The one time he landed, on a high peak overlooking the cool city of Winter Court...he did not get up again. He let the cold winds beat him, until he could no longer feel his toes, his feet. He sat until the overcast skies began darkening. Contemplating if he could kill Kallis himself or wait for you to decide what to do with him. His teeth yearned to tear out his throat himself.  Kallis was the only foreseeable reason Rhys could think of that would have explained why his mate had almost died at the hands of this merciless barren land. There was no way the noble family had just let you run off and... Rhysand shuddered - the thought of the family even being alive hitting home. Azriel hadn't found anything but a bloody trail that night.  His heart raced. A sudden feeling of anxiety loomed over him. He shot into the sky as fast as his stiff body and cold wings let him. Your hand was still wrapped in bandages, and you were sure your hair was a mess as the two wraiths doted on you. They had said nothing, even when you had pleaded with them. They had merely stopped and gotten the healer. She was insisting on using her magic on your neck and head when darkness shaded the room, and there were hurried footsteps up the stairs. The healer shook her head and opened the door, where night and shadows itself stood, staring at you with wide violet eyes filled with stars. Your heart hummed in your chest, and your head spun at his beauty. You knew him without ever meeting him, like a switch you were suddenly - secure. More at home than you'd ever felt in your cold homeland. The breath was stolen from you. His lips parted and he stepped into the room, "May I stay?" He asked, voice raw and charming.  The healer scoffed, returning to your side, placing her hands on your blanketed legs. You nodded at him. "Only if you tell me what is going on." he nodded back, glancing suspiciously towards the healer. "Where is Madja? I sent for her yesterday." He seemed irritated, his jaw clenching. "Madja is still working on your brother after what you did to him." She said in a clipped tone. Rhys' face went a shade red at that. Regret bloomed in his stomach. He sighed, sitting on the floor at the end of the bed burying his head in his hands, exhausted. Your head spun. "There are no stories of you having a brother." You said. His figure moved with a slight chuckle. "Brother in a metaphorical sense. Though they may as well be." He let out a long breath, unhiding his face and pulling a hand through his hair.  "He tried getting me to see reason while I was being...well.. unreasonable."  There was a small tug on your chest towards him, as if he was calling you to be on the floor with him. You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that you wanted to join him too. But you were bound to the bed by exhaustion and the bandages covering you. The healer placed her hand on your knee, a coolness thrumming down your leg into your foot. She tisked in disapproval. "Now you being unreasonable has this one refusing to let me heal her head. Do something about this your highness, I dont believe theres anything wrong but we must be abso-" Rhysand cut her off by holding a single finger up.  She scoffed and left the room, closing the door a bit too hard for normal. You smiled slightly at that, glad to be rid of a healer even for a few minutes.  He blew out a  long breath, avoiding eye contact with you. "What do you remember?" He asked you, eyebrows knitting together. He stared at his feet, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.  You knew what he meant. You cringed away from the few memories. "It was cold.." You started, shying away from the tingling in your foot at the memory. "Why wont you let the healer try to help?" He asked, not judgemental but more curious than anything. He got up with a tired grunt, and pulled a leather armchair beside you.  Your heart raced at the closeness he presented. You didnt want to imagine what you looked like. Even with Fae healing you knew the tips of your ears may have still been blue from the cold of the wilderness of winter court. "I dont need it. I dont... want the help. I dont see a point to it." You tried your best at a shrug, your arms protesting.  "Your family..." He began. Your heart fluttered, cheeks heating. A headache bloomed in your temples as your brain grasped for memories of the night. Rhysand waited patiently, studying your face. They had screamed and threatened to cut you out of the family dynasty if you refused the marriage. Broken glass and running. No shoes, pain in your lungs from the cold air.  "My sorry excuse for a family left me to die." You growled once you felt steady enough to say.  Head pounding, you took a drink of water from the night stand. "I was meant to marry Kallis' oldest, but when I refused they took issue with it."   "And they tried to kill you.. so you ran?" He asked, his voice strained.  "Not exactly... I cant...." You rubbed your aching head. It felt like you were sick, like you needed a cold bath. Your stomach roiled with the pain.  Concern took over Rhys' features. "I can help." He offered, his hands fisting in the blankets, like he wished he could rip the pain away from you.  "Do whatever" You groaned, sinking back into the pillows. "I dont care anymore." You wanted so badly to just let your body give out in those woods. Let some snow bear find you and be a snack for its cubs. You had no family, no home.. and no status any longer. Your mind seemed to be coated in a dark blanket, relief flowed through you. For the first time his eyes were locked with yours when you looked up. The magnificent depth of them was astounding. His dark brows pulled together, studying your features. There was that tug towards him again. You picked up that thread and tugged back, lazily.  He blinked, taking a sharp breath. Confusion rolled through you, then his voice ripped through your mind like an echo. "I've been waiting for you."

[the-darkestminds]

Did the Inner Circle ever apologize to Nesta?

I found myself so incredibly pissed off at Rhys and Amren throughout a lot of acosf. Rhysand hated Nesta before he even met her, has always made that clear to her, and whenever Nesta expresses any sort of dislike or disdain for Rhys, Cassian and Azriel and whoever else in the inner circle get super pissed at her. Obviously they all know a different Rhysand than Nesta does, but it made me so angry. Almost like Cassian would choose Rhysand over her. This sort of changed as the book went on and often times Cassian was the only one who would stand up for Nesta when the inner circle would be shitting on her. But at the end of the book I still couldn’t confidently say that Cassian would pick Nesta over Rhysand or Feyre, which is not okay. I really did love this book but I didn’t think Nesta NEEDED to reconcile things with the inner circle. They accepted her when she was cold but tolerable but completed gave up on her her after she went through a terrible trauma. I know they sort of tried to give her space and let her heal but only Feyre and probably Azriel (who is truly the only character who knows how to mind his own damn business) didn’t act completed disgusted with Nesta. Amren literally told Nesta that she was a waste of life. Rhys told Cassian to take Nesta away before he KILLED HER (omg i was fuming at this scene). The rest of them judged her sooo hard, despite the fact that all of them have suffered their own traumas too, and should’ve been more understanding that Nesta was clearly trying to cope with something horrific. But they refused, because god forbid Nesta hurt Feyre’s feelings, or make delicate, perfect little Elain upset. This is probably the only aspect of the book that bothered me, that Nesta was the only one who really had to apologize, when the entire inner circle, except for maybe Azriel (who I love), treated her like trash at one point or another. Nesta is an incredibly strong, brave, intelligent and KIND person to those who treat her like a normal human being (or Fae, whatever), which the inner circle did not. Her friendship with Gwyn and Emerie proves that. And in my opinion, the inner circle honestly didnt deserve Nesta’s forgiveness. They should’ve at least had the decency to apologize to her too. In conclusion, Nesta deserves the world and is my new favorite ACOTAR character and should be protected at all costs, along with her Valkyrie sisters. I REST MY CASE.

[mushroommushy]

Monster au

Timebreaker

- Alix is turning 15

- In her family, this is the age they are allowed to get a familiar

- As it’s harder for a younger person to do the familiar bond spell

- Alim’s familiar is Fluff

- Who has been with the Kubdel family line since the beginning as she knew they would do a good job at protecting the time stream

- Fluff is a small fae that is bound to the pocket watch in the family

- It ties her to the mortal realm

- She’s quite affectionate towards Alix and Jalil as well

Fluff, when Alix was born: Move, outta my way! OHHHHHH SHES ADORABLE!!

- Jalil also has a familiar

- His familiar is a Sphinx

- Note! Sphinx’s in this Au are just simply winged lions, they do not have a human face

- Having a familiar places a sigil like mark on someone’s hand

- This mark can sometimes allow emotions as well as pain to be shared between a witch and familiar

- His familiar isnt always there however, since unlike most familiars it has a human form and it’s own life

- Jalil is completely fine with this

- He knows his familiar deserves freedom

- But he is having some trouble bonding to his familiar since the Sphinx did it out of desperation

- Alice’s familiar was a cat, but it ran away once she passed away

- Jalil was at the family lunch with them

- He was really excited to see what kind of familiar she would pick

- They were planning on her trying to summoner her familiar, and if that didn’t work, trying to find one for her

- Fluff was hiding in Alix’s hat at the time, all snuggled up in her hair

- Alix would be taking the watch with her, since Fluff had begged to come with her

- Fluff has to stay near it to protect it

- For some reason, Fluff loves watching Alix roller skate

- Alix even made some tiny skates for her to use

- So she made her way to the race with Kim

- Max was like one of only a few people cheering for Kim

- Alix had given Sabrina the watch to hold it for her

- Sabrina knows how much it means to her since she knows Alix is a witch

- Fluff had ducked into Sabrina’s pocket to hide and watch Alix race

Adrien, leaning in: Please don’t use a speed spell on yourself to cheat.

Alix: Seriously? You thought I was going to?

- Alix and Kim start their race

- That’s when Alya in her distraction while filming the race bumped into Sabrina

- Sabrina ended up falling over and dropping the watch

- The watch didnt shatter completely, but it was damaged

- Alix won the race and was at first oblivious to the crack in the watch

- So she went back home since she had to go back to her dad

- That’s when she noticed the watch was broken

- And she was pissed

- Especially since it meant Fluff was in pain

- This got her akumatized into Timebreaker

- Now Gabriel is aware that Alix is a witch already

- He knows because Adrien and Alix grew up together

- The rich kid parents all know each other’s kids are monsters

- Most of them find their kids disgraceful for being monsters since they don’t carry the monster gene

- Especially Gabriel and Gerald

- Gerald is much worse but we’ll get more info when I tell you what Nathaniel is

- Gabriel is Hawkmoth because he wants not only to bring back Emelie, but to rid the world of monsters

- Since Emelie was killed by a rouge monster, specifically a witch

- Said witch may or may not be Felix’s dad

- Meaning Alim and Gabriel don’t get along either because Alim’s a witch

- But Gabriel is looking forward to use her abilities

- Unfortunately for him, Timebreaker kicked him out and pretty much went rouge

- She’s strong enough with magic to be able to do that to him

- So yeah he’s panicking now because he has an akuma running rampant that he can’t stop

- Timebreaker is going around, using a speed spell to make herself even faster

- She’s a killing machine

- Within about 10 minutes she’s already struck down a couple hundred people

- She had actually run into Jalil

- Who was shocked into silence upon seeing her

- Timebreaker had skated up to him, stared for a moment before head butting him and running off

- She never absorbed her brother though

- No one is able to outrun her, she’s simply too quick

- This of course alerts the hero’s pretty quickly

- Mari and Adrien run off to transform

- Timebreaker hunted down Sabrina, and tormented the poor girl

- Chasing her around and letting her think she got away only to appear again

- Normally, Alix would never harass Sabrina like this

- The two are very close to each other

- She got Sabrina into animals by showing her a book her mom wrote about dinosaurs

- And then that expanded into Sabrina really liking animals in general

- Sabrina was begging for forgiveness, saying she hadn’t meant to

- Alya then shouted out it was her fault

- Alya was killed immediately by Timebreaker

- While Timebreaker was now leaving Sabrina alone

- Chat was very much cursing under his breath

- He could tell that she had a speed spell going

- And probably a protection spell on her skates

- Which she actually didn’t

- Timebreaker had about 9 minutes of time travel stored up

- But she needed 15 minutes to go back to when her watch was broken

- Chat was thankfully rather agile due to the kind of monster he is

- He can move quickly

- The cat miraculous was easy for him to get used to

- Plus he already had a link to destruction/death with his ability

- Timebreaker managed to grab Ladybug though

- Chat couldn’t save her this time

- So instead, we get two Chat Noir’s

Ladybug: Oh no.

The class: Oh no.

The public: Oh no.

- Everyone was terrified of the chaos that could cause

- Timebreaker also tried to blame the second watch breaking on Chat

- He hissed at her

- Thankfully, the Chat’s were eventually able to trip up the two Timebreakers and deakumatize them both

- Alix then went out with her friends to celebrate her birthday for the afternoon

- They ended up going to an amusement parks

- Kim got nauseous on the pirate ship ride and Alix laughed at him while Max patted him on the back

- But she did help him with one of her spells because it’s the least she could do

- Rose nearly went in the air on the pirate ship because she’s small and Juleka had to push her back down

- Marinette and Mylene screaming in terror and holding onto each other for dear life in the haunted house

- Meanwhile Ivan is squished into the side of the cart quietly hugging them

- Alix dragging a tired Nathaniel and Adrien onto the biggest rollercoaster for the fifth time

- Chloe decided to have no fear and went on the sling shot

- She Immediately regretted her decision

- Sabrina pitied her a bit

- Alix and Rose being pissed at the rigged games because damnit they want a plushie

- Juleka having lesbian panic at angry Rose

- Adrien and Juleka made the vendor give it to them

- They just wants their friends to be happy

- Alya took a bunch of photos of the day and gave them to Rose to make a mini scrapbook

- Which was her gift to her the next day

- They had all gotten her something they knew she’d like

- Like new skates or spray paint equipment

- Or history books

- Kim playfully calling her a nerd and Alix reminding him he’d have an F without her or Max

- They got churros as well as pizza before they all ended up going home

- Alim and Jalil were fussing over her from her akumatization

- It took her an hour to get them off her back

- Both were just worried about her

- And also Alim being concerned someone may have noticed she was unusually fast

- Fluff felt super guilty and Alix assured her it wasn’t her fault

- But Alim then said it was time for her to try the familiar spell

- It took her a few minutes of trying before a 10 foot snake, curled up into a pile appeared in front of her

- Alix had managed to summon a female green anaconda as her familiar

- Not poisonous, but still very dangerous as a familiar and very capable of helping her

- For fun, she named her after a snake monster

- She called her Naga after a half cobra half human hybrid

- Alim was super impressed with her familiar

- Although Naga was protective and tried to bite him much to Alim’s amusement

- Only problem is..Naga is big and Alix is small

- Too small to carry her without some sort of change

- That being a spell that Alim cast for her that allowed Naga to feel lighter for her so it’s easier

- Jalil was super proud of his sister

- But his Sphinx didn’t like the snake

- Aka he’s scared of snakes

- Alix took quite a bit of enjoyment in annoying her rival with her new familiar as well

- Especially since her rival doesn’t have one yet

[littlx-songbxrd]

I feel like what you're explaining (correct me if I'm wrong) is that when marginalized people write marginalized villains it's good because it's done with nuance and care and understanding for what exactly is happening (most of the time.)

But when the oppressors do it it's just, bad guy bad. Good guy good. And theres no depth you know? Does that make sense?

Side note, something that bothers me about a lot of morally gray type stories is that there is usually an oppressed person who rises up against their oppressors but doesnt do it in a nice way and "goes to far" so they are villianized.

And then their redemption arc is essentially them apologizing for trying to kill n*zis. Like???? What??? THEY WERE N*ZIS! Or at least the equivalent. Cassandra Clare does this ALL THE TIME and it pisses me off.

So yeah. I'm glad she didn't write villian Alastair.

Fae thank you for eloquetly explaining my entire point/ gen

YES EXACTLY THIS IS IT

Not to say a non-marginalized person cant write a good villain, but most time i've seen it done it just turns out feeling, flat? I think thats the word. Its reduced to to them being villanized for their anger towards their opressors

As you mentioned its literally just "oh no your right but youre being mean about it <3"

God no AS YOU SAID IF A PERSON IS TAKING THE HARSH ROUTE TOWARDS THERE OPRESSORS ITS NOT TIME TO PLAY MORALITY

Its time to see they are being OpPresSed and no they dont need to be "nice" about it

Its the same narrative used today whenever opressed people stop being "nice" about whats happening to their community

They dont owe you niceness

And villains like these dont own the author their entire story being about how bad it is they are mad at their opressor

It just pushed the idea opressed people just need to sit and wait and be peaceful about their issues to have value and it sickens me

Like ok im gonna be honest I have written an opressed villain, but i think whats interesting about him is that the part that makes him anantagonist has never been directed at him being opressed

Or the actions hes commited towards that opression

Its the actions he commited as a result to him loosing his main goal, which was free himself from a system that prejudiced him

Now he is the one working the system of opression, tbh his story is very complex and id love to go over it some day because i personally think its one of the only decent things ive written

Besides this yes, I do think marginalized authors have a better perspective as what being marganalized looks like, and are better to represent and write the complexity of wanting to stand up for onself

Not saying a non-marginalized author cant do it, ofc they can. With the right research and the voices of actual marginzalized people

But CC didnt have the care to research and made one of brazils indigenous peoples forest protection spirits and turned it into a demon

She disrespects left and right

I dont want her TOUCHING villain Alastair

Im glad she didnt do it, i really am

But the concept if Villain Alastair is still amazing and if it was worked correctly could be great

As always leaving you off with a song rec villain alastairs theme is wouldnt it be nice to not care too by jamed the seventh <3

[cloviaglade]

I has more Sorrel for ya eyholes!

Summary: Satan makes Sorrel read the Devildom equivalent of Beauty and the Beast and they smooch.

I'd still rate it about a T for teen tho. Stuff from the story they read is implied to be graphic but Sorrel doesnt read any of it outloud.

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

"I'm telling you I can read elfish fae and infernal." Sorrel boasted.

She was a bit tipsy from the human world drinks she managed to get at the fall. Satan was her designated demon on making sure she can have a drink and unwind and not get eaten by another demon. The unit on pyromancy had her on edge since she is super flammable. She did well of course.

"I doubt that you can read any of that." Satan replied, drinking his own alcoholic drink. As a demon they don't really affect him.

"I can too! I can translate them and stuff I have to for reasons! I know spells!" Sorrel's drunken state made her a bit louder than normal.

"Fine. If you want I have this demon fairytale I would like you to analyze for me. I would like a human perspective on it, however we will have to leave now." Satan asked.

"Fine by me I didnt wanna get shitfaced anyway." Sorrel slammed the rest of her drink and then led Satan out.

Once in Satan's room he pulled out the collection of demon fairytales and placed it on a stand for quick reading. Sorrel sent a quick update message to Niri then watched Satan flip through the pages until he stopped.

"Ok read this out loud to me then." Satan said as he pointed to the title of the story.

"Trying to trick me. Humans can't pronounce infernal. Also the title doesn't translate well into most human tongues. The closest thing I can make out is the tale of the losing witch and the beast who tamed her. It really doesn't capture the real meaning since this word means a calmed someone into submissions with deeds, affection and services. Like obedience due to obligation or to repay like an indebted servant." Sorrel explained.

"Are you sure you are tipsy? I don't think you had enough." Satan replied slightly shocked she managed to get the title down as well as the meaning. This goes against what he hoped.

"So you want me to read this? It's only 4 pages long. I can skim over it and give you thoughts on it as I read it." Sorrel said as she flipped a few pages ahead to get an idea of how long the story is. Satan wasn't expecting her to be sober enough after 2 mixed drinks and 3 shots to still have the ability to process what she read that well. With the Demonus equivalent he would have blacked out. He gulped and nodded.

"So the first paragraph is about a witch who was exiled from the kingdom for trying to win the princess hand in marriage." Sorrel started. 

"I'm just skimming over it. You seem tense. Why is there something wrong with the story?" Sorrel asked.

"I've read this story to MC once. Or I tried to… they told me to stop after a certain point." Satan said. 

"Oh…" Sorrel said. Satan paced the small paper-covered walkways of his room. Once again Sorrel exceeded his expectations.

"The witch is now in the woods and it's getting dark soon. She finds two beasts fighting. She recognized the rivalry between the two and why they would fight and she cast a spell on the feathered one making it ill. The armored one would have lost it's life in that fight and then carries the witch off to his den…" Sorrel continued to translate but stopped. 

"This is the part where MC told me to stop." Satan said.

"I can see why. The armored beast 'marks' the witch… and well that's pretty much how some demons 'mark' something. I can't understand most of the words explaining how but it's not magic." Sorrel said.

"You are familiar with the process?" Satan asked. 

"Marking: when a demon leaves a noticeable detail on a human that demons angels and attuned human's can see that shows ownership of the entire person's existence. It is removable and how its applied varies from demon to demon." Sorrel explained. 

"Just so you know I don't mark humans like that.." Satan insisted.

"Yeah yeah…" 

"So the beast goes out and harvests food for the two of them and the witch treats the beast wounds and the two seem to have this domestic thing going on." Sorrel said.

"I never understood why the witch didn't leave. She can at any point." Satan said. He stopped pacing and stood next to Sorrel.

"Ah. She probably was scared she would run into the beast while trying to leave... Maybe she wanted to belong to someone. she was rejected by the princess- oh! what if she didn't want to go out marked! If another beast found her marked they might try to mark over it. She knows this beast is not going to try to do anything but make her cook and heal." Sorrel theorized. 

"So it's an evil she knows." Satan said.

"I don't Know… they make the armored beast sound very appreciative of the care and prepared food. I can't understand the words for how the witch is feeling for him…" Sorrel said.

"I thought you could read infernal? Were you lying to me?" Satan teased.

"I can, you angry overgrown imp….some words elude humans no matter what." Sorrel replied then returned to reading.

"A wizard is raiding the den. He wants to take the witch away and kill the armored beast but she doesn't want to go. They get into a magic fight and the witch is losing. The wizard…" sorrel paused.

"He threatened to remove the mark. The wizard is offering her a nice place where she can continue her studies. She can become stronger but she chooses to stay." Satan continued. 

"Then the armored beast comes in and snaps the wizard in two…" Sorrel stopped herself from reading more. Satan's wrapped and arm around her touching her waist.

"Then the beast claimed the witch as his mate." Satan whispered in Sorrel's ear, his voice low. 

"Shouldn't talk like that you will give me ideas." Sorrel said as she gently pushed against the avatar of wrath with her hand. 

"What if I want you to-"

Satan knocked over the stand in shock. Sorrel had gripped his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. The kiss wasn't elegant but it made their hearts race. Sorrel tore herself away.

"I… I just… geez you are such an idiot making me read this story." Sorrel's cheeks red. She gripped the fabric of her skirt and bunched it up in her hands. 

"... I wasn't expecting you to understand it in your state. Besides how do you think I feel when you recommend me all those romance novels" Satan replied he also seemed bothered by the sudden display of affection.

"Like I do now! Because I might like you… maybe… I haven't decided yet." Sorrel admitted. It was kinda cute how the young woman could go from brazen to blush like this. 

Satan returned her kiss. this time it was passionately and not forceful pressing of lips. His hands rested on her sides and hers on the back of his neck.

"Does this help you make up your mind?" Satan asked before diving back into another kiss.

"I don't know... I might need a few more before I know for sure." She teased.

[brinesystem]

list, tw

I saw this on someone else’s blog (im not saying names cause idk if its okay to share that info? it was public but still) and it uh

It looked like a good way to kinda, like, have a bit less doubt? or a way to remind myself of whats happening and why i think i have this? idk

Might be triggering so like probs scroll past or something

‘the moods’ existed before i knew about did/osdd

I used to describe them as “it feels like half me, but also half somebody else”

I argue and talk with my own thoughts

Sometimes I talk/argue /aloud/ with my own thoughts

I have to actively fight to /convince/ Fae to talk to people, else he wont. and even when he does, its not how i want it to sound

I cant remember most of my childhood

The /bad/ middle school was when i was either 9 or 10

I knew too much about sex when i was much too young (7, 8)

I get ages wrong (i was 6 in cali, not 8. why do i think it was 8?)

I had a dream about getting raped when I was in elementary school. I didnt fight back. I didnt feel anything at all

I used to hide under desks

I hated my therapist. Its now fear. I dont remember what it was back then

I forget memories I recall, and if I force them back, everything hurts, even if theyre not traumatic

I often forget that I used to forget bad things that happened to me.

Other sex dreams from elementary school

The csa I /do/ remember (freshman). Why did i seek that out. Why did it seem like a good plan

I used to forget conversations daily

I drew myself (sebastian, older brother, nicer) before I knew i was trans. I dont have many memories from before I came out/knew i was trans. (am i an alter?)

Used to daydream for hours due to nerves. Disocciating?

The bathroom incident (middle school. 9 - 10)

How old are you? “16″ i reply this randomly when i am 23. when i was 21. Even when I know I am not

The HS trauma that happened right

I don’t have triggers for my trauma, except sometimes i /do/

Hypersexual, but only /sometimes/

I’m an adult! Except sometimes when my body is much too big and I am much too tall and I only want to curl up and be left /alone/. Except when i am small and fragile and want to have stuffed animals around me and play animal crossing. Except then.

Opinions keep changing, but to set differing ones. (Fashion sense, humor, hobbies, aesthetics)

Scared of dad! Not scared of dad. Pity dad. Could kill dad. Scared of dad! Not s-

Handwriting/Art/Writing style changes a lot (fluctuates between set stops)

Randomly gains accents and loses them. Only happens with two accents even though I know many

Stims change depending on Mood

Cant recognize myself in the mirror, but ideal keeps changing in set patterns (soft lumberjack, fae prince, cutesy, fashionable andro, suited devil)

Fave colors, songs, movies change in set patterns

Numb sensations to VERY INTENSE sensations. Cannot predict

Edible food changes depending on mood, even including safe foods (mac n cheese vs mussels vs ramen, etc)

What is this emotion? idk

Who am i? idk

I know I was bullied. Don’t remember why I know

Trying to think about my childhood makes me panic or get a headache

Super depressed after mental break ; Suddenly snapped out of it emotionally

That one time I slept for 3 days straight

Posture and walk cycle keeps changing

Gets songs stuck in my head that I’m not thinking about

Gets songs stuck in my head that i can’t even hear

Remembers things with no context given (the movie. “which movie” i dont know. “what was it about? who was in it? what was the title? what did it look like?” i dont know)

Bad sense of time, but like, days/hours can = months/years

“so mature for my age”

The Moods can be triggered into appearing, but not always by things I relate to them (ie; Kos and Fae)

Personality test results keep changing. All of them

False memories (the cliff, talking to the old woman about marriage, who knows what else)

Caught off guard by my own thoughts and even words I say (”sehb is gonna be mad at me for this, lol” “ACRRRRRYLICS”)

Most of my childhood memories are actually photos or stories ive heard

That dissociative test where I scored in the middle, but closer to DID than OSDD

Opinion on myself and my own looks varies

Opinion on my past varies

I dont recognize my own voice sometimes (is it changing? or is it my perception?)

Numb regarding pain, but then hypersensitive to it later

Numb regarding loss, skips straight to acceptance

Cant shiver normally, but sometimes can even when its not cold

Cant feel hunger normally, but sometimes can?

Favorite season and holidays change (summer, beach! autumn, cool air! halloween! no, valentines day!)

I dont feel connected to my family except my mum and maybe my youngest sister. These were /choices/ I made

Empathy? Dont know her. Except when I randomly start crying when others are sad, which always comes at different times but similar Moods

Cares about appearance one day, couldnt care less the next

Fave jacket: Green denim! Nope, today fave jacket: Grey hoodie! Nope, today f-

Headaches. So many headaches

More headaches when dealing with trauma

I doubt myself and worry I’m lying. Liars wouldnt do that, right?

Known to dissociate

Forget things mid sentence

Used ‘we’ when talking about myself at random before considering OSDD

Cant dream, except when I can and they dont feel like /mine/

Used to speak aloud with myself practicing words. Was I alone? idk

Loves animals. One of the Moods doesnt care at all about animals, even Wander

Loves video games. One of the moods detests video games

Loves horror games. Randomly feels intense fear from horror games

I know i was bullied, i know dad didnt come home on xmas, i know i moved a lot, i know i was in dc during 9/11, the ocean incident, the doctor incidents, I vaguely recall M(on base friend with older brother) and how she treated me (broke my glasses), i know i had a horrible time during that one year of middle school even though I only remember Two Moments (bathrooms, trailer) but I don’t necessarily have the memories of all of the things I know I dealt with

Memories are like snapshots or still moments, and dont continue

Memories I know effected me emotionally, I feel detached from now, except when i’m randomly Not (the koi, the caterpillar, not punching dad, etc)

Didn’t have friends until second year of middle school, those friends were bad, so were the hs friends

Ignored most things that happened but would randomly become enraged at smaller things that happened to me

The time on base I thought all adults driving by were pedophiles (i was 7. 8. why did i think that. why did i want to goad them? what was wrong with me??)

Keep forgetting memories like 81, but when I remember them theyre hard to get out of my head

“you acted so differently as a kid, what happened”

The Tics in response to stress

Was good at the doctors and then suddenly wasnt at all. Now am afraid

Was fine with bugs and then suddenly wasnt. Now am afraid

The fact that I dont remember typing ‘at all’ on 85

Lost old friend. Didnt mourn, still get a queasy feeling when I think about her/am reminded of her, but not upset or sad usually

Can connect most of the Moods to triggers, traumas, or coping methods, including myself

Reaction to trauma changed literally overnight

Used to love being tickled, now makes me panic (fight/flight)

Can feel when the Moods take something they see into themselves (was told this is normal. i am not faking this, at the very least)

I dont like lying. Fae doesnt/cant lie. Luci /enjoys/ lying.

Used to think solely in images. Now think solely in words.

Can sometimes hear thoughts before i think them, but only my own

Randomly gets worse coordination in turns with moods, and then gains it back after

Too trusting, but then gets in a mood and doubts even my closest friends

People keep telling me what im describing sounds like osdd, even friends who have met some of the Moods

I have an easier time remembering some things when I’m in different Moods

Used to have more amnesia before I started recognizing the Moods (was that me switching out?)

[terramythos]

My thoughts on October Daye #12 “Night and Silence” oooor “Dammit, Janet!” (suggestion courtesy of @mistressofmuses ).

And with this I am officially all caught up! Well, I haven’t read all the novellas and short stories, but caught up on the main series. Now I have to wait for #13 this year like a normal person! Gah! 

-So, leading off from all the horrible shit that happened last book, things aren't going.. great.

-You know that intense, extreme trauma 2 members of the main cast experienced @ the end of last book? Yeah that. Didnt go away

-There's a line about how Tybalt keeps seeing Toby as her mother Amandine... the person who kidnapped and basically tortured him last book. And he's basically terrified of shapeshifting at all and has just stayed in his humanoid form. And he's refusing help from anyone and disappearing for long stretches. And maybe going just a little bit Fuckening Crazy. G-great start, guys!

-And there's a flashback where he's just MEAN and like you can understand why but MAJOR YIKES and also pain.

Ok unexpected May feels ;-;

-Gillian Is Missing Again but I have a feeling this is not gonna be much of a retread...

-And.. boy this sure is a callback huh? May and Quentin being the found family, Gillian is missing, Tybalt is antagonistic...

-ok Jocelyn is a creepy fangirl character

-ok I'm 5 chapters in and wondering where this is going. Apparently there's Quite The Twist in this one or at least that's what I suspect is going to happen

-oooohkay they find like this weird pocket dimension with like. A miniature house that is also a chicken (and no one even mentions Baba Yaga). And idk what it is about the scene but it is fucking eerie and creepy as hell somehow.

Shade appeared in like book 6 as a Literal Cat so.. here she is showing up and being relevant for 5 minutes

-but what the FUCK is with this place. I got nothing and that exposition just raises more questions. There's no magic scent at all (except MAYBE cinammon), a bunch of rare fucking plants, and a fucking miniature baba yaga hut just wandering around

-that opens another rabbit hole because Golden Gate Park is ALSO completely unclaimed for no particular reason 🤔

This might be a waste of picture and might get deleted later but like, that's fucking creepy, right???

-god I know there HAS to be someone with cinnamon in their magical signature who we've MET but... it's been 12 books, dog. I dont fuckin remember

-The closest I can think is Simon with "mulled cider" because that's cinnamony... BUT it's pretty unlikely he did this, and that part of his magical signature is PRE corruption and we have the corrupted version running around.

-We just found a SECOND creepy unexplainable house hidden in plain sight so that's starting to feel Thematic.

-And she smells the false Queen's magic in this house :) someone supposedly asleep for 100 years in Silences. So that's great.

-Aaand there's Gillain! Not even halfway through the book. Way too easy.

-It's not Gillian. It's a Baoban Sith which is apparently *googling* a.. vampire. Ok

-My crack theory is pretty much dead in the water lol 

There's more than this bit but ;---; fuck dude

-But yeah! After a book and a half of hiatus, Tybalt's back! A little.. broken and suffering from severe PTSD, but you know.

-They go to Goldengreen based on a hint and Marcia is there baking cinnamon rolls. It really stresses the fact that she's making cinnamon rolls.

UM.

-.... holy shit.

-Ok. Ok ok. Assuming that's the truth that means Amandine's mother was.. a human? Making her a fucking CHANGELING Firstborn? What the fuuuuuck

-Oh that is fucking hysterical with what a fucking blood purist Amandine is. She looks down upon changelings and the beast races SO MUCH. Janet implies Amandine has no idea her mother was human, or at least never knew Janet. I'd bet she figured out she was part human because the Dochas Sidhe's whole deal is messing with one's heritage for fun results. Gosh. Hmm.

-And this mirrors everyone hiding October's heritage from her BEAUTIFULLY.

-I don't remember quite when "Miranda" was introduced but it was pretty early on. And now that I think of it there was NO REASON for her to fucking exist! What the fuck! The story would have made just as much sense with Cliff being a single dad raising Gillian. Miranda was just an antagonistic extra detail who didn’t... really do much. God damn it. 

-Cliff “accidentally” marrying Toby's maternal grandmother who is somehow Human and also like, alive, in order to help raise Toby's daughter is. Fucking Something, huh.

Oh lore??? (Oberon, King of Faerie, kinda a nice guy it turns out, accidentally knocks up a human. Uh... whoops?)

-Fuck dude, that was the blood memory flashback we had in book 9. The Luidaeg begging her mom not to leave on The Ride. Oof.

-So Janet is, yes indeed human and YES INDEED Toby’s grandmother. She’s cursed with immortality because of all that shit she pulled. 

-And BOY does that lore regarding Janet make the whole "Amandine was doted on and given everything she ever asked for" make sense cause... THAT'S WHAT THEY DID WITH HUMANS. And here we have a fucking FIRSTBORN born from a fucking HUMAN. Gosh. Jeez.

-and Katy pointed out to me that that's a big book 3 reference because Toby's family holds her down when THEY try to remove her from Blind Michael's version of the Ride, and SHE wildly shapeshifts through dozens of forms.It was a Tam Lin retelling only I don’t think I ever expected the actual thing to be relevant. 

-And FUCK Evening/Eira, by the way. I think that goes without saying at this point.

-So is Blind Michael's Ride supposed to be a replacement of the old one? 500 years ago the fae used The Ride to sacrifice a human every 7 years--until Tam Lin and Janet fucked it up. Fast forward to the present and we had Blind Michael showing up every couple years stealing children for what HE called The Ride.

-soooo Toby killing Blind Michael might have not been a great thing if you follow that line of reasoning. I mean, he was a fucking monster, BUT... Because The Ride is supposedly to maintain balance, hence the sacrifices. Whatever the fuck that ultimately means. And by stopping it...

-Add that on to all the stuff last book about how Blind Michael wasn't always such a shitty person, and... uh hmmm.

-OK this part might be a stretch but: the Dochas Sidhe are the only descendants we know of that are just... one hundred percent descended from one of the Three. The human part is largely irrelevant in fae terms. They’re directly Oberon’s, not some mix of Maeve/Oberon or Titania/Oberon. Would that mean Oberon is actually Dochas Sidhe? He did, after all, create the hope chests, and the Dochas Sidhe are literally living, breathing hope chests. IDK MAN. 

Tybalt, PLEASE.

-So it is, predictably, the false Queen behind this whole situation, helped by Jocelyn. And I just FUCKING REMEMBERED that it was that dickbag Dugan who had cinnamon in his magical signature .-.

-The Baoban Sith just be like "yeah sorry about almost eating you I uh straight up hadn't eaten in 40 years lol. Anyway I'm Kennis, what's up?"

OH FUCK! I FUCKING *CALLED* THIS SHIT OUT IN BOOK SIX! I remember it being mentioned offhand as something that could happen. I fucking KNEW we were going to turn a character into a Selkie for plot reasons. But I gotta say I didn't expect it to be Gillian!

FUCK DUDE ;___; in this house we stan The Luidaeg. Best character. I'm not crying. (I am.) 

-She has a line a few pages later about anxiety and catastrophic thinking, and how what you THINK will happen is never as bad as what actually happens. She compares it to "chasing the tide" and honestly that's such a useful metaphor, as someone often caught in that trap...

-They take down Dugan, yay, he was a loose end. He's not DEAD, but.. This is another one where the villain felt pretty secondary to the big plot revelations. 

-And Tybalt stepped down (temporarily) as King. Jolgeir's daughter is apparently going to temporarily take things over so I expect we will be introduced to her later?? 

---

-And, like the last few books, theres a novella epilogue at the end. This one is "Suffer a Sea-Change" and looks to be from Gillian's perspective.

-ok so Gillian has this whole scene where she TALKS to Firtha (whose skin she's wearing now) and I can't help but wonder if all selkies have this weird scene with the Roane whose skin they inherit when they ascend or whatever?

-The Answer Is "No", The Story Explicitly Says 

-Gillian is honestly pretty funny. She's up to here with this bullshit.

-The Luidaeg would like to remind everyone that she’s nice to October and Quentin but she’s not actually all that nice to most other people and Definitely Has Her Own Agenda. Although she seems to have taken in Poppy as an apprentice of sorts so... *vague shrugging* 

-And The Luidaeg speaking fondly about her "little brother Michael" who liked interior decorating despite being entirely blind. This is my uncomfortable face based on all my Analysis earlier.

-So Gillian is a Selkie now! That's not a twist I expected. And the next book (not out until September) is about The Luidaeg finally calling in their debts. So uh. That was one hell of a way to make the stakes personal on that.

-Im probably gonna make a master post overview of the series now that I read the whole thing in relatively short order. I'm glad I'll have a chance to read other books, but I'm anxious for the next one too based on the recent developments...

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter Six: Flashback, one of two, and also Maya’s in it

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist]

“Hey, Chief, question: so murder’s murder even if it’s one of the Fair F -- the fae, who’s murdered.”

“Murder is murder when a person is killed, accounting for manslaughter, accidental death, and the like -- honestly, Phoenix, you just think a person doesn’t count?”

“No! I mean, like… It just surprises me, is all, that you would let a human court arbitrate it and not just…”

“Revenge ourselves on the suspected killer with our magics in our home realm?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s always a possibility -- but it’s far too messy. That sort of thing tends to drag others who are far outside of the disagreement into the fighting, by way of networks of alliances, and before you know it there’s a full war that began because of a stupid crime of passion in a human bar. Some time before me, our Courts decided that humans and your courts and laws are the closest to fair, neutral judgment available, and that we would abide by their verdicts. Oh, certainly humanity was not consulted, but it is to your benefit to investigate the killings of fae, so as the allies of the deceased will not strike a curse down on all who were in the vicinity. And besides, you don’t think that, if humanity agreed that fae deaths won’t be tried, that rule wouldn’t be abused? That any man might claim his neighbor was one of the Fair Folk and killing him does not ‘count’ -- that any mother might throw her child in a fire because it acted just the slightest bit strange and claim that its life was forfeit on her suspicion?”

“You say that humans are fair and then list out all that. Neutral, with our lying and biases and stupid foolhardy impulsive actions--”

“Other than lies, we have the same faults, but so often magnified. We are impulsive and petty and cruel, with bias bred into our bloodlines -- it is an imperfect decision, as we are imperfect, as you are imperfect, as I have found even your laws to be. We make do with our best. It is all we have, in the end.”

-

A cold iron stake through the heart will kill anyone, not just one of the fae.

The same, Phoenix thinks, would go for an iron bullet through the forehead.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what Magnifi was -- Zak told him that from the beginning, and Pearl’s gift confirms for him that he wasn’t lying. And even without it, he could still see the lingering traces that Zak was a witch -- once. Their powers fade quickly when their patron is gone. He knows that without asking.

If it should matter, though, there is no way to prove to anyone else what Magnifi was.

Fae corpses don’t leave evidence. If they leave a corpse at all -- most do, but not all, and those deaths by their nature are never judged but in the Courts of Kurain, if the dead has the allies to bring the matter forth -- it is indistinguishable from a human’s, a last residual enchantment to make sure they cannot be ignored or dismissed.

Or to fuck with those left behind, as Phoenix comes to understand of Magnifi.

The evidence of the trial made that much obvious: one shot to the forehead; you cannot refuse, and we both know the reason why. A final cruelty to impart on those whom he bargained with -- and why wouldn’t he? If he knew he was dying -- of age, a curse from another, whatever it was -- the Gramarye witches would outlast him. And even if his death would take their powers away, the fae never like to feel that they’ve been cheated. One last indignity: don’t forget what you lost forever to make a bargain with me.

There is a lot Phoenix does not know, answers he is still seeking, but this, he understands. The nature of the fae, he understands.

The Bar Association suspends his badge pending inquiry, the hearing scheduled for one short week after the trial. News travels fast about Phoenix, ever since von Karma, ever since Gant, two pillars of the legal system he brought crumbling down, and the prosecution already had done half of their inquiry for them, placing Drew Misham in the courtroom with a speed that made Phoenix’s head spin. His memories of the trial are patchy, direly so, when it comes to the diary page -- how he got it, why he didn’t find it too suspicious to present -- and that will be his own inquiry: who fooled him, and how. It probably wasn’t Zak; it very likely could have been Gavin, a prodigy looking to make a name for himself, with enough enchantments and glamours to make it happen. He is human at the core and nowhere else, but the old adage, foot in each world, doesn’t seem so true, not when he drapes himself in iron jewelry like he thinks it can ground him firmly on this side of the veil.

Phoenix doesn’t trust him -- Phoenix has five people whom he personally trusts -- but he can’t condemn him, not yet. Not without more evidence.

The first lead he chases down is the forger himself, Drew Misham. (No, not himself.) The forger is his daughter, Vera, a shy, sickly little girl, and a changeling besides. Drew seems to know, but he won’t say it outright -- Vera is “exceptionally talented”, “a genius”, and he never makes eye contact with Phoenix. She was the only one to see the client’s face, and whoever it was has done a good job of convincing her to clam up. A gentle smile, she says. Like an angel, but for the briefest of moments -- a slip in the upkeep of a glamour? -- Vera saw the devil.

Not exactly helpful, and definitely worrying when compounded with the secret charm that she won’t show, but she does tell him that she lays an enchantment on all of her forgeries -- not in those exact words. Phoenix isn’t even sure that she realizes what she is, that her powers are not human.

Valant is the second he speaks with, at the detention center where he has been interred for trying to pin the murder on Zak. Talking to him -- or maybe it’s that Phoenix retrieved the magatama to keep with him on this investigation -- brings one memory into sharper focus -- the girl, the little girl, Zak’s daughter, as human as her father but draped in magic even when it was fading from Magnifi’s two pupils. And that is definitely worrying, too; Phoenix has stumbled sightlessly into the dark, and something monstrous is lurking in it.

He nearly misses his hearing -- an unnecessary formality because there wasn’t one among them, except apparently Kristoph Gavin, who hadn’t decided that Phoenix’s badge would be gone at the end of it -- trying to track down Trucy. The Gramaryes were an elusive coven -- Valant tried to make a cursory protest on the terminology, “Troupe! We were not…”, and Phoenix broke the single lock by just staring him down until he rescinded his words -- who were never found by those desperate enough to seek them out, but instead would appear to them in the midst of their search. If they had a home base, Valant won’t say, and no one else in the world knows. Zak’s daughter, Trucy is her name, could be anywhere in the city, anywhere beyond the city, out to the mountains of Kurain, and Phoenix might never find her.

Getting an answer from her about who she received the diary page from would be a bonus; Phoenix is more concerned for her sake. He was only able to briefly See her, but he didn’t like the glimpse.

This is going to take some assistance.

The first thing he can unearth in his apartment that can make a circular shape is an extension cord; he drags it out to the kitchen and sets a cold half of a ground beef patty on a plate in the center. The fake candles are back at the office, but that is an unneeded trifle -- funny, but unnecessary. “Maya,” he says, stepping back from the circle and closing his eyes, “there is someone I need your help to find.”

A cold gust of wind batters against his face. When he opens his eyes, the room has filled with a slowly-dispersing purple mist, twisting in strands around the fae standing in the circle. She has gained an extra pair of eyes since he last saw her, smaller slits right along the browbone, all four glowing red. The remaining mist settles about her head like hair or the headdress of royalty, not quite blending with the void-black tendrils that frame her face. One of them extends, almost like an extra arm made of shadow, down to the floor, snatching up the burger and tossing it into her mouth. She grins, the truest cheshire smile Phoenix has ever seen, stretching literally from pointed ear to ear, displaying dozens of huge sharp fangs. “Hey Nick!”

Immediately she turns to face the refrigerator right behind her. “Are you holding out on me? That was a lame burger just now.”

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my badge. I’m trying not to burn my savings on food too quickly.”

She cocks her head, still staring at the fridge. The mist doesn’t move with her like something part of her should. “Where’d you have it last?” she asks. “If you lost it at the office, Sis will probably have it on your desk in the next couple days.”

Ah. Literalism. The main weapon and weakness both of the fae. “No, I mean -- I was disbarred. I am no longer allowed to work as a lawyer--”

He stops when he sees Maya’s face. She has finally looked at him and her expression, however hard to parse it can be, shifts rapidly, the briefest flash of something like horror that twists into fury, a contorted, monstrous rage. “Who did this to you?” she snarls, and he didn’t know he looked, physically, that bad, or that she knew how to read the depths of his exhaustion and despair from his aura. “You want my help to hunt them down and eat their hearts?”

“No! No, that’s not what I want!”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I would throw it in for free.”

“No!” He bends down to break the circle and stops. “On the condition of not eating any part of a person, I let you leave.”

“For the duration of this summoning, you have my word,” she replies. He could -- should -- argue that, try and make it a blanket deal for eternity, but he decides they can negotiate that some other time. For now, he has what he needs, and he unwinds the extension cord.

When Maya steps forth, the glamour settles over her in a wave, the mist hanging over her settling into glossy black hair, her two smallest eyes vanishing and the others whitening and gaining dark irises, her mouth shrinking, and the four small glowing orbs that drift lazily about her face sink down to become four large beads of a necklace. And then she looks like an ordinary girl, late teens or early twenties, her hair done up in a topknot and her smile small but still toothy and just a little too sharp. “So who is it that you want to find?” she asks. She frowns, but it seems like such a minute motion compared to moments ago. “Is your prosecutor in trouble again, too?”

“No; that was last month.”

And he leaves her hanging on that one and they sit at the kitchen table while he instead begins to explain his own case, his own worst situation, and the Gramaryes. She repeats Magnifi’s name to herself after he says it, again and again until her voice loses its human quality, sounding instead like the clatter of bells or a windchime, until suddenly she snaps back. “This fae you call Magnifi -- he was banished, many years ago, stripped of his power with his name and cursed to never return.”

“Why?”

“He strove for power and made those who had that power very mad,” she answers. “And so -- ouch.” She picks at some stain on the table and Phoenix winces, anticipating her leaving claw marks gouged into the wood. “He had a daughter. No other allies besides her -- she left with him, naturally.”

“Thalassa,” Phoenix says. Maya nods. “It was a far fall for him, huh, to end up where he did. Probably all he had left was the power trip over Zak and Valant, and all they had was pretending that they weren’t witches sworn to some bastard.”

“That’s the funny part of it, kinda,” Maya says. “They didn’t even credit him, when they were saying they can perform spells for whatever sorry suckers show up hoping for a miracle -- they were just like ‘yeah, no fae involved, ignore that guy, we won’t screw you out of a deal’. And they by being like that probably screwed him out of dozens more deals with sad desperate humans. No wonder he decided his death should be one last one-over on them.”

Sitting cross-legged in her chair, her hands in her lap, she leans it back to balance impossibly on two legs. She likes to cause the double-take, to force Edgeworth or Franziska or whoever else to look twice at the way she twists the world around her. “And you’re looking for his granddaughter?” she asks. “Not his daughter?”

“Thalassa is dead,” Phoenix says. “And Trucy isn’t, yet, so yes, I’m looking for Trucy.”

“I’m vaguely flattered that you think I’m powerful enough that I can just find her, just like that,” Maya says. She doesn’t wobble. “It’s not so easy, not here in this realm, not without knowing her true name.” “Trucy Enigmar,” Phoenix says. “Or Trucy Gramarye.” Maya rolls her eyes. “I need to know which, Nick.” Names have more power in the Twilight Realm. It’s why Mia, even trying to be human, stumbled on names that weren’t Phoenix, the human whose life she owned, and Dahlia, the fae she defeated. It’s why Iris only ever called him Feenie. It was the kindest gesture she could make. In the same fashion, Maya calls him Nick. They don’t own him, not entirely, though they could. “It’s only two choices. You can’t guess?” “No. I need to know.” Half of magic is certainty, Maya and Dahlia so certain they have the world at their fingertips, Iris so much meeker and weaker than her sister, Vera knowing little about herself but knowing that once instructed she can create anything and that is all she needs to know. And Valant, weaker, because he was so sure he was second-best, a self-fulfilling prophecy, the only kind of prophecy that Phoenix ever sees. A spell can’t be cast on a guess. “Is there anything you can do if you go back to the Twilight Realm?” Phoenix asks. “Hm.” Maya holds her hands up, palms facing each other, and a purple glow begins to form around them. Then she claps them together and the light vanishes, her eyes glinting red for a moment in the sterile light of his kitchen. “I’ll ask Sis for help, first.” It has started to rain when they leave Phoenix’s apartment. Biking in this weather is unfortunate enough, but Maya insists on balancing herself on the handlebars, right in Phoenix’s line of sight, and this would be the most embarrassing way for Phoenix to die after everything he has been through. They are both soaked through to the skin but only fell once by the time they arrive at the office. The lights are already on and the heat is blasting a literal warm welcome. “Hey, Sis!” Maya calls into the silence. No answer comes forth, of course, but the smile on Maya’s face is one that shows her to be more at ease than in a long time. “I could use some help! Nick’s trying to steal a kid.” “I’m trying to help her,” Phoenix objects. “Honestly, Maya.” “Yeah, yeah.” Maya twirls through the office and her hair doesn’t move like it is heavy with water, or even like it has the weight of that much hair. She stops at the shelves of law books that Phoenix has meant to read for two and a half years and never did, running her fingers down the spines but not stopping at any of them and proceeding on to the binders and file folders full of Mia’s case references and research materials that Phoenix hasn’t known how to sort and get rid of. “Somewhere here,” she mutters, “maybe there’s something.” Phoenix gives her a moment to offer one before he asks for an explanation. “After our mother left,” she says, “Sis at some point moved some of the royal records out of the Twilight Realm. I think she was worried about our aunt getting her hands on them.” The pages turn without Maya touching them. Her bangs and the hair framing her face sway as though there is a gentle wind to tousle them. “But… nope.” She stops on a page and squints down at it, only to resume flipping a few seconds later. “This Magnifi of yours, his true name – it wasn’t just taken, but erased. There’s not even an echo for me to work from.” The binder slams shut and is tossed over her shoulder without her moving her hand. “If these witches were well-enough known, how did people usually find them?” “They didn’t,” Phoenix says. “Anyone who went looking for them, they would eventually appear to.” “Huh,” Maya says. “Well, we’ve got two options, now!” Phoenix is already bracing himself to hear them. “We can go out and wander until I find us a likely trail, or you can put up some – uh, wanted posters.” “Wanted? For the Old West, maybe, but—” “Then, a ‘lost kid’ kinda thing. You do that, right? With the description, and the phone number, and the reward money.” “That’s for pets.” “It could be for kids. Don’t let your narrow-minded cultural assumptions box you in.” “Ah.” Sometimes, Phoenix has no idea what the hell she is talking about. “If we’ve got to make a grid search of the city, we’d better get started.” Maya hops up onto the couch and pushes the curtains aside to look out at the rain. “Maya, do you know how big Los Angeles is?” She looks back at him with her head cocked. “No,” she says. “How big?” Again they set out, on foot this time. “We’re helping her by stealing her,” Maya says, jumping squarely into a puddle and splashing muddy streetwater up Phoenix’s jeans. “It’s not either-or.” She tilts her head back, face to the clouds that are darkening from gray to black as night falls. “I bet Sis can save her, like she did you.”

Streetlamps flicker as they pass, and in those brief spurts of shadow, Maya’s shape flickers too.

She leads him down streets he didn’t know existed, past storefronts that look long-abandoned, with neon signs still glowing in the windows but not the puddles they should be reflected in. “You definitely were enchanted, by the way,” she adds. “I can still see the residue.”

“It’s been a week,” Phoenix says.

“Well, double-layered enchantments are harder to shake off and take longer to fade.” She shakes her head. “You were doomed as soon as you took that paper, without anyone to help you. You’re only human, after all.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” A cheap, sad ball bounced back and forth between players of a game whose rules he doesn’t understand, then as in now, a pawn dragged to the other side of the board to be crowned a knight and turned back again.

“What did you say this coven called themselves, again?” Maya asks, when they’ve been out for a little more than an hour, Phoenix soaked through to the bone, Maya having given up the illusion that weather affects her the way it does mere mortals. Her skin does not shine wet in the light. Her hair still flutters like a ribbon with the breeze of passing cars.

“Gramarye.”

“The name itself might be an invocation,” she says.

“What, like ��Bloody Mary’ three times in the mirror and she’ll--”

Maya squints at him. “I don’t know anyone who uses that moniker,” she says, very seriously. “Is that a meme?”

Phoenix regrets teaching her about memes, for many more reasons than this, but also specifically for this. “The -- the belief is that you say her name three times and she’ll appear behind you in the mirror.” He turns to his reflection, staring back at him out of the dark window of a closed-down ramen shop. “Gramarye,” he says firmly, despite feeling a little silly, and doubting that the reflection is even necessary. “Gramarye, Gramarye.”

“That’s not a mirror,” Maya says.

“I don’t wear makeup so I’m not going to just have one in my pocket--” Something flashes in the storefront window and Phoenix glances back. Something is glowing, a small pink light, and he figures that some neon sign in the shop has sputtered back to life until it moves, flitting about like a moth thumping up against a lamp. He looks back over his shoulder. There, down at the end of the block, the light is dancing up above the street. “Maya, look,” he says, nudging her, not even sure why he’s pointing it out but compelled to. “What’s that? We should go look—”

“Nope!” She grabs his arm and yanks him back. He hadn’t realized he ha started walking, toward it, until she stopped him. “What’d we just talk about, Nick?”

“Bloody Mary? Or that I’m only human?” The light pulses, brighter and softer, but never too bright that the glare is jarring in the dark and the rain.

“Yes! That without me you walk right into enchantments!”

“An enchantment?” He looks again at the light, really looks, but nothing about its shape or color changes and he takes another step forward. The edges of his vision are blurry, like he is staring through a sheet of falling water, and he should be able to see something—

He didn’t see anything suspicious about the diary page, either. Glancing over at Maya, his stomach momentarily turns over at the sight of the pale claws on his arm. “It’s trying to lead you astray,” she says, and even when she isn’t grinning, her full shark’s mouth of several rows of teeth is made visible, and she tugs at his arm again. “Back this way.”

The light bobs back and forth, sashaying forward as Phoenix moves away from it. “A will o’ the wisp?” he asks.

Maya nods. “A distraction,” she says, very seriously. “This is all very clever, actually.” One hand still closed around his upper arm -- he blinks and wills her claws to look like stubby nails and blunt fingertips again -- she pulls him back toward the storefront. “The doorway appears where there is a need, then the wisp distracts for the witch to step forth and seem to have just appeared from nowhere.” She reaches forward, touching a finger to the glass, and it wobbles and ripples like water, opening wider and wider a circle big enough to step through. “Because you can’t just teleport like that. There always has to be a door, but it adds to the illusion if it doesn’t look like there’s one.” Stepping to the side, she waves to usher Phoenix in first. He can see a stained wooden stairs descending, before they are swallowed up entirely by darkness. “Age before beauty!”

Even in the most human of her grins, he is reminded what she is.

Beneath his feet, the steps creak at every movement, the walls closing tighter and tighter as he descends, brushing against both of his shoulders at the same time. He fumbles forward, one hand stretched out groping blindly for an exit or a wall. Maya is prodding him in the back as they go -- “C’mon, Nick, you’re so slow!”

“I can’t see,” he protests, right as he walks straight into something solid, the impact of his hand against it jarring his entire body. “Ah.”

Maya’s hand brushes past his ear to reach over and tap the wall. With a loud scraping sound, a thin crack of light slowly spreads wider and wider, shifting aside to reveal the interior of a gaudy gilded room. It isn’t the decrepit shack he expected, no rats or exposed wires or broken furniture, but it still disgusts what slight aesthetic sense he has. Everything is gold, or red, or black, a collection of clashing decorative styles, Victorian-looking couches with abstract modernist tables and shelves, and a few implements that look like something from a circus, strange boxes and colorful flags and hula hoops.

Stage magic. Phoenix snorts.

Sitting on the couch, a blue plastic bowl in her hands, a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on its way to her mouth, is Zak’s daughter. “Oh!” she says brightly, through a mouthful of noodles. “Hi, Mr Lawyer! If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let Mr Hat lead you away.”

Mr Hat? Phoenix mouths it at Maya, even though reasonably there is no way she will know what that means. She shrugs. “Hi Trucy,” he says, looking around for a place to sit and deciding he doesn’t trust anything in this place. “Your daddy hasn’t come back, has he?”

Her face falls. “No,” she says. “He hasn’t. But he told me I could trust you, Mr Lawyer!”

Why, Phoenix so desperately wants to ask, but he is trying to keep that trust and that question will not do him any good. “I did some digging to find out if you have any other family,” he says, trying to keep eye contact with her while also watching where he puts his feet. “And it didn’t seem like it, so I wondered if you wanted to stay with me for a little while -- until your daddy comes back.”

She nearly overturns her bowl trying to set it down. “So if I stay with you,” she says, “does that mean we’ll be family?”

“I, uh… I guess so?”

Maya is laughing quietly as she circles the room, plucking up the decorations on the mantles and setting them back down. “Who is she?” Trucy asks. “Will she be my new mommy?”

“Er -- no. No, no.”

Trucy’s face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Since my mommy disappeared years ago, I thought I might get a new one now too.”

“No,” Phoenix says, “she’s just -- a friend.” Sort of. As much as human and fae can ever be friends, without the tangle of deals and magic and curses that always litter those relationships. He’s heard of romantic couplings of fae and human -- ones genuinely built on love, he means -- but that was not his experience and he has no intention of repeating anything close to that situation.

“I’m Maya,” she says. “Nick and I have known each other for a few years now. You can trust him.” She grins. Trucy hasn’t recoiled from horror from her; it doesn’t appear that she has the Sight, and another quick glance over her confirms that. Phoenix hadn’t paid attention to that last time, distracted as he was by everything else that was going on, with her, and in general. Now he can see that her eyes don’t change, but marked around them is a teal glow, in the shape of a diamond, over each of her eyes like a variation on a domino mask. He can’t quite tell what it means; curses are always easier to read, a red slash across the throat only really meaning one thing.

In the meantime, until he can ask Maya out-of-earshot, he decides he should stop staring and instead deal directly with the situation he has invited upon himself. “Oh, Trucy? You don’t have to call me ‘Mr Wright’ or ‘Mr Lawyer’ or anything. You can just call me Nick if you want.” He scratches his head, as the depth of this is beginning to weigh on him. “Or even ‘Daddy’ someday, but not now if you don’t want to--”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Oh. Okay.

“I have to get my stuff, if I’m going to be living with you,” Trucy says. “I’ll be right back!”

She springs to her feet and runs off into the next room. Phoenix moves to follow her, not sure if this place won’t swallow them both up, never to be spat back out into the world. “It’s truth, if you’re wondering,” Maya says, opening an ancient-looking wooden cupboard and rifling around in it. “The blessing on her,” she adds, emerging with a pack of microwave mac-and-cheese that for some reason was stashed there, and tearing open the pack of cheese powder and shaking it into her mouth. “It probably doesn’t look quite the same as Pearly gave you, but I wouldn’t recommend lying to her.”

“I see,” he says.

“No, you didn’t See. You were wondering.” She grins again, and she swallows the package of pasta, plastic and all. Once she told him that she can unhinge her jaw like a snake to swallow anything as big as her head; he wishes that she could lie. He wishes that her sense of humor could extend beyond literalism into exaggerated falseholds.

He steps into the hall that Trucy disappeared down, just far enough to see her running from room to room, with the clattering of objects upended and tossed aside. “Do you need help carrying things?” he calls.

Trucy sticks her head back into the hall, beaming. “Nope!” she says proudly. “I have this!” She waves at him a huge pair of frilly pink bloomers, and part of him -- most of him -- does not want to ask, but he also does not want to trek back into this hideout when he finds out she didn’t bring any of her clothes. “My magic panties are better than any suitcase!”

“Can you… elaborate?”

She reaches in through the top of the bloomers and pulls forth a pink cape. “Oh,” he says, but she drops the cape in a heap on the floor and reaches again to bring out a t-shirt. “Okay, I see. Thank you.”

Maya has wandered into the kitchen area and is continuing to devour everything she can find in the cabinets. Phoenix decides against asking her to leave him some of it to bring home for him and Trucy now. “This really isn’t a liminal space, is it?” Phoenix asks. He would be able to see if it were, the way magic hangs in the very air in his office, the way Mia herself and the last traces of her life linger.

Maya shakes her head and sinks her teeth into three donuts stacked together like a hamburger. “Hidden by magic, but no closer to the Twilight Realm than anywhere else. She’d have at least a bit of the Sight if it were.” She leans up against the wall, watching Phoenix with eyes that glamour doesn’t quite have a hold over, flickering as they do to red. “But even then, she might still be too young to know to be afraid.”

[emma-blackthorn]

Can we talk about ACOMAF for a moment

Like, I think this book hits deeper than I would have thought it would. It's a fantasy book. I've never really... connected, so so deeply, in a book. But I wanted to cry, so many times. Especially in the first and last few chapters. Like when Feyre can't get over what happened under the mountain. And maybe if Tamlin had tried to help her and not just ignored the way she was fading away, she wouldn't have become so malnourished. He doesn't really even help her heal. I feel like this is the definition of an abusive relationship. He doesn't really... care about her. I mean, I think he does in some way, but not the way she needed. And the way he treats her, like he should be cautious about her power. And he's over 500 years old, he should know what that much magic does to someone. What powerful magic does. He should know how to treat someone right. I wonder if he acts the way he does because she was human and not because she died. Because humans, mortals, need protection. And despite that she's High Fae now, he doesn't think of her as one of his kind. He's still a bastard because of it. A possessive one at that. I think we can all agree at one point in our lives we where so, so, so depressed that moving felt like it was an anomaly. That food became unapatizing. That we just... didnt want to live or couldn't feel anything. And maybe it lasted a day. Maybe it lasted longer. Maybe you're still going through it. But at some point everyone is going to feel this way. These are the parts that hit me the hardest. The parts where she wants to die, where she doesn't have the will to fight anymore. And she doesn't think anyone else will, either. And I wish, I wish to God, that someone had been there to help me and I didn't feel like I was so alone. I remember going days without eating, with just going through the motions. I don't remember how I got myself into such a dark pit. But on bad days, I don't want to move, I don't want to work, I don't want to Human. And on those days the only reason I go to work is because other people are dependent on me check. So many books that I've read rarely, if ever, hit depression head on. And if they do, the characters always bounce back so quickly that it's like What Depression??? Being coddled and told what to do, as an adult, I feel is more damaging than anyone would ever think. I think that's why Feyre was starting to heal during the week she was at the Night Court. Like, yes Rhys worried about her, but if she was content and healing and was still feeling something, he let her be. He made it more than clear, a couple of times, that he was there if she wanted to talk. And I think she had gotten so used to no one caring, when she was human and now as a High Fae, so she didn't recognize the offer for what it was. Rhys did more for her than Tamiln wanted too. And Rhys wasn't doing it for some ulterior motive. So maybe teaching her to read was part of a plan, but he'd never make her do something she wasn't comfortable with, as shown when they went to the Bone Cleaver. But he was right in teaching her how to read and write. It is a skill needed. And that is the only thing that kept her sane while she was at the Spring Court. I don't think her being his Mate had much to do with how he was treating her. He would probably want to help anyone depressed feel something again. Like, OK, yes some of what he did was because he loved her, but most of it was just because he wanted her to start healing. Rhys is just as broken, healing just as much, and the only reason, I think, that some part of him didn't fade day by day was because he surround himself by people he knew cared. And he had like 500 years that she didn't. He had done terrible things for a lot longer than she had, but he also had the experience to know what he was getting into. She had an idea of what it was, but she didn't know exactly what she was going to have to do. I think that makes a difference too, in how they reacted to their actions. I think that if Tamlin had just listened to her instead of fucking her, she would have healed a lot faster and wouldn't have been as broken as she was. She broke so much more after that first week with Rhys, when she wanted to go Home because that's where she'd been living for a year even if it didn't feel like home anymore. I mean, she threw both she wedding shoes at him the first time and she was focused on getting better. The second time, she didn't feel anything. If she did feel something, it was probably resignation at her situation. And I think if Tamlin hadn't locked her in the house like a prisoner, I don't think she would have had the will to follow him and Lucion. I think that if she hadn't had the panic attack that she would have stopped feeling again and locked herself in her room and maybe, just maybe, she would have tried to kill herself. Because that is what she wanted. She wanted the guilt to go away so she stopped feeling but every bloody night she woke up and puked her guts out and she felt so alone. This is why I relate on a personal level. The realistic depression. The realistic healing. It scares me so much that Feyre is back in the Spring Court. Like, maybe she'd be fine for a few months before nightmares come back and she wants Rhys so bad but she just can't have him and she starts to break and fade and then she's just so mentally drained that she just stops trying. Again. That's what I'm worried about.

[thedappleddragon]

Day 68 (Tuesday May 19)

I woke up, took a shower, and prepared for the day. I did a bit of laundry and put on clean pajamas and just kind of hung out inside until I got board and went outside.

All the plants in my backyard have like exploded with green in the last week and it was warm and humid out after a rain and it was beautiful so I walked around looking at all the plant growth. There’s a climbing vine on the side of the mini barn that’s grown taller than the side and is trying to reach into the gutters. There’s a semi-circle of something with lots of little clovers that looks like a thrown for the fae. Most of the wild violets have disappeared, but little yellow flowers are sprouting up in its place. There’s a mystery plant right next to our abandoned wood patio that sprouts out in a circle and then wag stem keeps splitting off into 2 and then 2 again and again and it’s really pretty. There’s something overtaking the space along the fence where edible clovers used to be. All the small trees along the fence look so much more alive with leaves on them now. The biggest tree in my backyard and maybe on the whole street had been holding onto some leaves from fall but now it’s full and beautiful and green again. There’s a vine thing along another fence near the trampoline that flowers!! I never knew it did that! There are dandelions in my sandbox over a foot tall, but they fell over in the rain. I didn’t explore the muddy area near the swingset but there’s not a lot over there usually aside from one of my brothers’ trees. The clover patches are bouncing back too and growing some FAT clovers. They’re not the same kind as the little yellow-y ones near the fae thrown or the back fence, they’re darker with a whiter band on the leaf if that makes sense. The grass has gotten long and I love it. I love how much different plant life is in my backyard and I wish my dad would never mow it.

Mentions of dead animals in this next paragraph, so be warned. Vulture culture kind of stuff.

Along with all the greenery in my backyard, I’ve been conducting an experiment. A while ago, I found a mouse that my cat had killed when she went into the garage, and instead of throwing it in the trash, I threw it into the backyard near the door where I could find it later. I left it to decompose so I could get the skull later, but I wish I had left it in an open container instead of on the dirt because it got rained on and made it harder to find today. I found the skull and some of the other bones, but I didn’t particularly care about those. I DIDNT TOUCH IT WITH MY HANDS that would be gross and unsafe probably. I used a stick. I grabbed a takeout lid and nudged it on there so I could gently slosh it in a puddle to get the mud and excess tissue off. I was amazed with how tiny the teeth were... I don’t think the skull was fully in tact, and some parts looked thin and almost see-through. Idk if that means anything, but it looked different than what I looked up online later. I left the skull on the lid and placed it somewhere it would be protected outside if it stormed later and unseen in case anyone else went outside. I went inside and washed my hand VERY thoroughly several times with soap and water and hand sanitizer, even though I didn’t touch anything. Better safe than sorry.

After hanging out in my backyard, I started getting ready for my friend’s drive-by birthday party parade. I didn’t really know what to expect. A bunch of her friends showed up to a park near her house to meet up beforehand and put streamers on our cars and talk for a little bit. It was such a fun time just being able to see people in person again. (We we’re keeping our distance and everyone had masks btw) I felt so happy and everything almost felt normal for a bit and I teared up ngl. It was also bittersweet because I wanted nothing more than to give some of those people a hug but I knew I couldn’t. We were joking around and hanging out and talking waiting for everyone to arrive, and then we all headed for our cars. As we drive down the street, I was so exited to see her reaction, because it was a surprise party. She was so happy she cried which made me super happy and I was so glad to see her and tell her I love her in person and I handed her the present and card I made and grabbed her hand for a second (I washed my hands before I went) and wished her a happy birthday and drove off and that was that. She texted my later telling me how much she loved her gift and it made me happy all over again.

When I got home, I had a calculus final to do. The teacher made us download a browser that didn’t let you use anything in the background while taking the test but I had my other laptop and my phone and looked up how to do everything. I thought I was doing great and only missing like 2 questions out of 25 but when I turned it in I got a 16/25 :( thankfully it was on a curve so I got a c instead of an f. Then my dad brought home subway and I worked on all my other work for the day and realized that my teacher changed the due date for the final essay to Thursday instead of next Monday so that made me mad and I had to immediately start reading the book to finish it. I’ve only read 3 more chapters because this book is kind of boring. Theoretically I could do one of the prompts from earlier in the book but i guess I’ll finish it >:/

While I was taking a break from reading I remembered my old math teacher from freshman year who committed suicide last semester. I got emotional thinking about he didn’t get to see me graduate and I wouldn’t get to go to the winter break party he held every year for alumni. I wanted to tell him I’m sorry, but obviously I can’t do that. But then I started writing this and got really happy thinking about my friend’s birthday again.

[happycakestories]

old mx fic dump pt. 7

some particularly notable aus --  they stand out for the imagery/themes or how much i personally invested in the story

rusalka au - still love the idea of a drowning kind of love, myths of alluring water creatures, and the wet, decaying rot of old eastern european mansions - the kind that still seem to grow, wholly alive, within the marshes

cowritten w a friend who made a cool graphic :)

honey’s mom is a rusalka and his father is a korean ambassador or whatever, she was supposed to lure the dad in and kill him but she falls in love with him and gets married to this mortal, he builds a house for them near the lake she came from, she hears the voices of her brothers and sisters calling her and telling her to go back, slowly driving her insane the longer she keeps away from the water

This undead rusalka is not invariably malevolent, and would be allowed to die in peace if her death is avenged. Her main purpose is, however, to lure young men, seduced by either her looks or her voice, into the depths of said waterways where she would entangle their feet with her long red hair and submerge them.

when honey is born she gets remorseful bc he’s half a fae and she condemned him to be shunned and also his nature is supposed to be inherently dangerous so she tries to keep him away from bodies of water of any kind

but rusalki need water to live so she has to stay in the tub for a loong time very often

lots of childhood memories of him grabbing a stool and scooching to the edge of the tub as she blew pink bubbles at him

honey wonders why he’s not allowed to go near water bc he’s a child and children are nosy and during a family outing when his mom is distracted he explores and gets lured into the water bc the other rusalki kinda want to kill him to get revenge on his mother but he’s half fae and he manages to escape

when he comes back he’s changed, he has blue eyes and her fears are confirmed

so that night after saying goodbye to her husband and son she goes back to the lake and makes a deal with her brothers and sisters, she goes back with them but they must promise they’ll leave her son alone

everybody tells honey his mother drowned, but he’s suspicious bc she never went near any body of water, so he investigate and approaches the lake and sees young, beautiful rusalki floating under the water, his mother is there too but she looks so different and totally not human, he runs away in fear  and after this he develops a terrible phobia  of water bodies

every night he hears his mother sing and call him, trying to lure him in, so his father for fear of his mental health decides to move, but everywhere they go in russia, honey’s mother finds them and haunts him, so his dad decides to go back to korea, where he marries hyolyn who is the daughter of some fancy ass noble family and honey comes to love her like a good stepson but he cant forget about his mom, who is like a ghost to him, and he cant help but wonder if the memories he had of her before she drowned are even real

then he’s introduced at a fancy ass party, and honey is super shy bc he doesnt know anybody and his korean isnt that good, but at the party there’s ck too, the son of a general, and he’s a little nerd and also doesnt have many friends and he sees this super pretty boy with the most unusual eyes

and he notices this super pretty boy with the most unusual eyes

and he's shy bc his korean isnt too good also living in russia he doesnt have any friends here

who is looking around nervously since he doesn't know anyone or the language well enough

and ck falls in love at first sight bc he's shy too and a bit nerdy and doesnt have many friends

for the first time he's the one that approaches someone else

he goes over coughing out an awkward "hi" as he leans against the wall next to the other boy

blue eyes perk brightly at his prescence and the other boy also lets out a soft hi in return

it's thick and clumsy and ck immediately recognizes the slavic accent

he takes a chance and switches to russian, re-introducing himself again in the other language

he's immediatly bombarded by rapid fire russian, the blue eyed boy jabbering away with relief in his eyes AND LIKE IM IMAGINING THIS 1910's SALON YKNOW, and the two boys huddled in a corner speaking in russian

and i was thinking that they become friends and ck notices his friend is weird, he doesnt want to go swimming in the pond in summer and sometimes he looks at water with authentic terror in his eyes

but he doesnt know he's afraid to see a face under the surface

i'm figuring they're around 12-13 at this point?

jooheon's still fully draped in a high colored blouse and pants

manyeo0

YES and at first he didnt want to let ck go into the water because he was afraid his mother would snatch him

happycakeycake

won't even take off his shoes near the water

OOH GROWING UP TOGETHR

but Ck is also so genuinely enthusiastic about going to swim

so he decides to follow him to at least watch over him

but he is NOT GOING IN

"i don't understand, i mean its just pool water..." changkyun mutters even as instant regret fills his chest at the other's shaking form

happycakeycake

there has to be a scene where jooheon totally looks feral and ck is actually scared

i want dangerous jooheon sorry woops

manyeo0

that we can get man, maybe the one time honey (as an adult tho) gets into the water

and ck is scared and turned on at the same time

happycakeycake

omg DUDE what if he almost gives into his instinct

and drowns ck

manyeo0

also my dude i want this fic to be FILTH Y

happycakeycake

but he snaps back in time

manyeo0

and then cue underwater sex like in movie

happycakeycake

to push ck back to the surface and onto the bank

manyeo0

s

happycakeycake

HOHA

manyeo0

yes man

i want the filth

manyeo0

romantic, pretty filth

happycakeycake

AND HE LOOKS UP INTO BRIGHT EYES, PUPILS SLITTING INTO THIN LINES OF BLACK

LIKE AN IDLE BOAT DROWNED INTO TWO ENDLESS POOLS

HE CAN'T LOOK AWAY

manyeo0

YES

happycakeycake

BUT HE GREW UP SO MUCH

manyeo0

WAHAHAH AND THATS THE ONE TIME JOOHEON ISNT THE SUB

happycakeycake

OH POWERBOTTOM JOOHEON COUGH

manyeo0

OOOH MAN

manyeo0

YES

happycakeycake

OMG OF COURSE

manyeo0

fucking on the riverbank

happycakeycake

like reeds and fallen petals from the water clinging to his body as he pulls onto the bank

pushing ck down onto the mossy ground

he can feel the wetness sinking in through his clothes but he can't bring himself to move

not with jooheon sat naked and wet as the day he was born, staring down at him

manyeo0

joklkllflfklfkfdlkd

happycakeycake

and then he gets ridden an inch withinhis life woops yep i can't write porn anymore

manyeo0

AND HE'S LIKE "I SHOULD BRING U TO THE RIVER MORE OFTEN WHOOPS"

happycakeycake

and all he gets in a response is sharp teeth against his neck, biting harshly before pressing a soft kiss against it

he shivers but makes no move to shrink away

manyeo0

my aesthetic for this fic is lots of water and lots of filth

happycakeycake

i love that please

and dark green moss

dark woods with decaying trees sticking out of rivers

manyeo0

maybe ck gets sent to one of those military schools

happycakeycake

nooOOOOOO

omg but when he comes back

manyeo0

and honey keeps studying at home and they only see each other when ck is back home but they write letters

happycakeycake

both of them would 've changed so much

YES

and ck gets progressively worried as the letters become rambled and messy

manyeo0

MGMGD

happycakeycake

jooheon's thoughts jumbling into conflicting opinions about the rivers and lakes

JOOHEON KINKILY DROWNS GUNHEE

happycakeycake

there's something so satisfying in the way the other man's eyes dull and his heartbeat lulls to a stop against jooheon's own chest

manyeo0

IOFOFJSMSMDN

he'd be horrified if he knew man

also i posted the thing

happycakeycake

he can't hold himself back from stealing the man's last breath of air with a searing kiss

swallowing his last gasp and sealing their mouths together until he grows completely limp in jooheon's hold

happycakeycake

oh my god but like what if changkyun totally saw that poor man walk into the lake

manyeo0

OJJDJDDDKKS

happycakeycake

and jooheon rises out of the surface, only able to whisper out a "hi" as changkyun's eyes widen in horror

and then the whole sex scene happens

manyeo0

OGHH HIT

YES

happycakeycake

except he totally forces him during it to promise to forget about it

i just want a scene of jooheon reveling in the extent of his full powers, breathing in the scent of the waters as the moon drapes across his skin

and changkyun can only watch to the side, terror and awe all mixed into one

-----------

The dry gravel gives way under Changkyun’s boots into the ever-familiar softness of wet moss, as he makes his way back home.

Hoseok always jokes that he’s going to become a forest hermit one day, but what with the continually mounting stress at work, the younger sergeant is starting to seriously consider it as a viable option.

Even the annoying scratch and tug of wild branches against his uniform seems almost playful and comforting this evening. His uniform coat, brocaded with a once-flourishing embroidery of a yellow bird, is slung casually over his shoulder as the forest gives him its usual clinging welcome.

It wouldn’t be quite an exaggeration to say that he was forest-dweller, since he had literally settled down inside a patch of quiet, secluded woods, easily buying up an acre or two of unused land to live on.

The dense underbrush finally opens to a quiet grass bank. It’s perpetually secluded - the forest hunching inwards like a mother, leafy arms spreading wide to block out almost all traces of sunlight. Everything flourishes in the dark, moss and mud squishing wetly underfoot as they appear in larger and larger pieces towards the pond.

Well, it’s more of a lake than anything: deep and dark enough to hide any man’s secret. Dilapidated trees, raised half mast in the water, reach with stiff branches for any kind of light, even as they inevitably rot deeper into the water with each passing day.  

And all of this is Changkyun’s home.

He plops down at the edge of the bank with a content sigh, relaxing fully even as freezing wetness seeps through his trousers. His reflection is clear and unbroken when he leans over the water, a perfect mirror image of serious brows and slim cheeks.

He leans closer, enough so that his nose could kiss against his mirror self’s, his hair could dip against the dark surface, and his lips could press a cold greeting to his home.

His face is only a millimeter away from touching the lake when he’s grabbed and pulled face-first into the water, pale wrists and outstretched palms flashing across his vision to latch onto his collar.

The initial panic and breathlessness soothes over when a familiar softness fastens itself wetly over his frozen scream. His vision shadows over, and Changkyun can’t tell if his eyes or closed or if it’s the unreachable darkness of the water.

Either way he pushes back, hands coming up to grope for full cheeks and bare shoulders as he bites against a plush mouth. A gasp comes out, muffled into tiny air bubbles, rising and popping towards the lake surface.  

In a few seconds he follows, gasping and collapsing onto the bank, mouth raw as it’s assaulted by the chilling air. He sits up as quickly as possible, lungs protesting and limbs groaning when he raises himself up to glance toward the water.

Vectored ripples streamline across the surface, flowing into a direct stop in front of his dangled legs. The bottomless reflection breaks into a pale face and lake-slick hair -  slitted pools of blue that sit atop of round cheeks which bunch into dimpled glee.

“Darling!” pierces through the air as a happy shout from pink lips, cupid’s bow arching in obvious delight. The cooed syllables roll off in thick Russian, curling gutturally through a taut throat.

“How was your day?” Changkyun replies simply, switching abruptly to Korean and exaggerating each word teasingly as he watches his lover frown in immediate discontent.

“I- miss - missed you,” Jooheon slowly replies, choosing each word with careful consideration as he forces away the Slavic sounds fighting to escape through his throat.

It all started many, many years ago, in Russia, Vladimir district, in a villa next to a lake.

---

The thing Jooheon liked the most about his mother was her hair.

Most of the time she wore it pinned on top of her head, or coiled in elegant braids that framed her face. When she let it down it fell in heavy, wavy tresses, red and shiny as polished copper. She let him run his little hands through the silky locks, and sometimes he helped her untangle the most stubborn knots with her favourite silver brush. It was difficult to choose the thing he loved the most about her, because in his mind Mother was absolute perfection: she was beautiful and wise, she had strong and nimble hands and the softest voice he had ever heard.

Jooheon had inherited her pale hair and pale skin and her heart shaped lips, but the cut and shape of his eyes, their colour, those were like his father’s, Mr. Lee. He was an ambassador from Korea, which was very far away from Russia, and didn’t look like his wife at all. He even spoke a different language, and hired a teacher who taught Jooheon how to write and speak it correctly. It sounded strange to Jooheon’s ears, and so different from the lazy drawl of Russian, but he did his best because it made Father proud and Mother happy.

Not that his father was home much: he spent most of the year in Moscow to tend to his business, which made Jooheon’s mother sad, though she tried not to let it show. She wasn’t very happy in that big wooden villa all by herself, with only her little son, his teachers and a couple of maids to keep her company. Jooheon was very young at the time but he understood that his mother felt lonely and he always tried to do his best to cheer her up.

She especially got a wistful, far-away look in her eyes when she glanced at the lake next to the house, which was strange, since she never even walked close to it.

In fact, she seemed to have a deathly, unbreakable fear of all bodies of water, not just the lake, but rivers and small streams too. Jooheon was forbidden to go near water, not even on hot summer days when he would’ve loved to take a swim in the mossy lake to refresh himself. His doctor had suggested it once and Mother had been so upset she had almost thrown the poor man out of the door.

One day, Jooheon had asked her about it. He was sitting on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom, his fingers idly tracing the shape of one of the bath’s clawed brass feet, while his mother blew rose-perfumed bubbles at him. “Mother, why are you afraid of water?” His mother had let out a very unlady-like snort “Why do you ask that, pchelka? I’m taking a bath in water right now, am I not?” Little Jooheon had scoffed, knowing she didn’t intend on answering his question seriously. “I don’t mean that! I mean, why are you scared of the lake, or the streams and rivers? Why don’t you ever want to go swimming in the lake?”

This time, his mother had glanced at him through narrowed, impossibly blue eyes, so different from his own, and he had felt a sort of chill go through him. It felt like looking down a well full of icy cold water, knowing it could suck you in at any moment.

“I’m not scared of anything, pchelka. I just don’t like moving water too much. You never know what’s hiding beneath the surface. Something might grab your pretty little foot while you’re swimming and you’d never see the light of day again!” She had started tickling him then, his laughter bouncing through the tiled walls, and every thought about water and its mysterious depths was momentarily forgotten.

-

It all came back to him one day, a couple of years later.

At seven, Jooheon was still a small, pudgy boy with round dimpled cheeks and curly blonde hair. His mother and all the maids doted on him, they called him pchelka, solnyshko, angel. His father - those rare times he saw him, for he still spent the best part of his time in Moscow - wasn’t as affectionate, but he seemed satisfied with his progresses and always brought him presents from the city, such as intricate egg puzzles, imported sweets and books.

Mother received silver combs shaped like dragonflies, silk dresses that floated around her figure like gentle waves, and more diamond necklaces and earrings than she could possibly wear in that secluded house in the forest, where nobody could see them. Her only chance to show her off where the fancy parties Ambassador Lee attended in Moscow. On some occasions, he brought his family along, his wife (“my lovely Dar'ja” as he would introduce her) as radiant as ever, his little son adorably awkward, nervous from all the attention he would get as a mixed child born of an Asian man and a Russian woman.

Jooheon didn’t like those parties much, they felt so fake and stifling, and he was always immensely glad to be back to his quiet villa by the lake, with its creaky wooden floors and the fading paintwork on the walls.

There was something about the perpetual wetness of the wood - the way it creaked and gave way underfoot, as if the water in it had made it alive, shift, and grow with every slap of his chubby feet.

The city maids always shook their heads at the mess, stomping their heels in disgust at clumps of rich moss creeping up in damp corners and whispering about how it’s not good for the mistress nor the young master, for that matter, to be in these kinds of conditions. For all their hard efforts though, one rainy day later and the lake would be back to its original state: creaky, wet, rich, and alive.

As much as his mother guarded against lakes or any form of wild contact with water, Jooheon can see the unfiltered want behind the frenzied fear in her pale eyes. He understands the feeling - the same pull rising up within him every time his bare toes gripped dewed grass, every time the splatter of rain on his windows sent him into a panic, nerves driving him into a state of suspended alertness.

It’s these moments where he and his mother sought each other out, simultaneously as if on instinct. She would cradle his pulsing head to her chest, wrapping her own thinly clad, nightgowned body around his own, their hearts pounding to the same erratic rhythm. It’s the only thing that can calm him down enough to sleep: the fiery curtain of his mother’s loose, long hair soothing him safely back into the land of dreams.

"pet” / mafia au

GENERAL AESTHETICS:  “it got her on her knees like religion” “every saturday night i get dressed up to get ready to ride for you baby” “movie stars and liquor stores and soft decay” “so imma care for you, you, you, you, yeah” “if i cannot move heaven, i will raise all of hell for you”

PET AU: jooheon’s a quiet pet but he watches everything his master does with wide, brown eyes. They say he’s too docile, too vapid, too silent, but well - he just wants to be good for the man he loves.  https://ton.twitter.com/1.1/ton/data/dm/920057578448670730/920057561562451969/D8Lvlc_K.jpg:large

https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/920750240050933765/920750232492822536/3Wm36U-f.jpg:large

https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/920750283805904900/920750273085280261/xQ7RY3nU.jpg:large

https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/920750203677921285/920750186447753216/vTzzE4p6.jpg:large

https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/920750190239330316/920750166130520064/kFTbt0ay.jpg:large

Playlist: “le noir” by bap, “ribbon in the sky” by bap → only for action scenes maybe, “Galaxy” by Ladies Code, “All about You” by Taemin → beginning 1st part of video  (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEURku1dTfU), “move” by taemin, “in the night” by the weeknd, “Wires” by the neighborhood-Minhyuk?, “White Noise (Chinese Version)” by EXO - in Jooheon’s absence, MAYBE TAEMIN STUFF IN GENERAL (Press It album - song → sexuality→ Until Today (it's perfect!!!) → Ace → Experience), “Burning Desire” by Lana Del Rey, “Gangsta” by Kehlani, BANKS MUSIC,

Scenes:

Confrontation: “We only wanted to rough him up a little for show,” Minhyuk sighs, nudging a hard toe against the soft, pale flesh of Jooheon’s thigh. The pet whimpers, warbling and desperate, and tries to shuffle away on bound, bloody knees. The same shiny black dress shoe comes stomping down over bare skin a second later, dragging out a raw cry of pain from between Jooheon’s torn lips. Jackson digs stinging half-moon crescents into his palm with the bloody tips of his blunt nails. Still, he stays silent.

“But, well-” the slender man kneels down on one leg, all coiled grace and deadly power as he takes Jooheon’s stained cheek in hand with feigned tenderness. “He made it a little too hard for us in the process,” a thumb digs into the exact spot where Jackson knows a dimple would sit during a deep smile, and Minhyuk smiles benevolently, “didn’t you pet?”

Minhyuk + jooheon interactions:

The bargain: Jackson reaches for the man, the leader’s outstretched hand, making sure to keep his fingers strong. Judging from the other’s pointed grimace, it’s a little too much. He bares his teeth in a smile anyway.

“Welcome, Wang Jia Er.” He keeps his expression open. “Please, call me Jackson.” Whispers arise immediately, like the chirping of crickets on a late summer’s night, and a laugh bubbles in the back of his throat. Jackson finally relaxes his grip, smile poised even as Howon’s hand comes to wipe casually against his fitted trousers. It’s bargain day, he reminds himself.

Howon nods, the cutting edge of his jawline turning to jerk towards the second room, bordered by the casual exoticness of an imperial era styled door, intricate lace-like designs carved out of fine mahogany and painted a fading red. Red for luck, his mother’s voice twines like threads of yarn knit with slender fingers through his hair. Red for marriage, his father’s crumbling visage breathes from behind his shoulder, the choking smoke of cigarettes winding a loose remnant around Jackson’s throat.

Red for power, he tells himself, a quiet echo within the blank space of his own mind.

He’s led into the intricately designed room, two rows of men flanking him loosely from both sides in a uniformed wall of black lapels and sharp white button-downs as they go. Inside, his nose is invaded by the curling scent of smoke, sweeping him into a momentary lapse of forgetfulness as images of decadent 19th century opium dens rip off from his wrinkled textbook pages and balloon inside his mind. Jackson huffs out a heavy breath at the decaying pictures, tasting the filmy sensation of marijuana clinging like a summer’s cup of sugary lemonade against his tongue.

The sunken-eyed, emaciated stare of poppy-drugged prostitutes have been replaced by the straight backs of bare-legged pets, kneeled so obediently in front of their masters Jackson’s arrival barely turns any of their steady gazes. He can’t say the same for his own impulsive curiosity.

Howon strides forward with calculated, casual steps, weaving past stained upholstery and scattered silk cushions until Jackson finds himself presented before a simple rectangular table, bare, save for a spotless china ashtray, surrounded by wood-backed recliners that all boast the same exotic design carved into the doorway border. They’re grouped into seats for two at the short sides of the table, then a seat for four lined up against the top edge, and finally a single chair placed directly on the opposite side to finish up the quadruplet seating. The hard tip of Howon’s shiny dress shoes stop right at the edge of the rigid circle, the rest of his men flocking behind him like a pack of well-dressed deadly penguins.

Jackson carefully seats himself in the single chair, spreading his legs and leaning forward with his elbows against his knees, shoulders relaxed and open. The wood of the chair shakes and creaks loudly on its spindly legs.

A pause. Howon’s dress shoes click in deliberate movement.

Howon’s penguin men begin shuffling in, taking up their invisible spots around the table with waddling gaits as their boss stalks among them, a panther among their midst. They all settle into the same position, legs bared, smiles plastered, all leaned in towards Jackson as Howon places himself directly opposite of him, hooking his legs together with a quiet shift of slightly too-tight fabric. Jackson notes the way the other man’s slacks pull and wrinkle like a fan’s folded edges around his crotch. He twitches testily within his own seat, looking up to catch Howon’s glowering expression with his cheery own.

Finally, the fine china of the untouched ashtray seems to come into use as the other man lights a simmering cigarette, roiling smoke unfurling from the slit of his mouth as he takes in a choppy inhale, releasing it in the same brisk manner. Smoking was always absolutely prohibited when training with weapons, but Jackson admits he quite likes how hazy it makes Howon appear in the seedy lighting of the underground den. Now, on his father’s harsh breath, that’s a completely different story. He keeps his smile pleasant, eyebrows rising just a fraction in surprise when a waft of cancerous fog brushes his way. He waits, and the cigarette is stubbed out against white china with a sizzling hiss, the red of its embers fading into black tar that spreads itself out along the pristine bottom of the previously untouched tray like a malignant tumor.

“So,” Howon puffs out one last trace of wispy smoke, “What’s your deal?”

Jackson can’t stop his smile from twitching, widening just a fraction across his face. He leans forward even more, back curved, fingers interlaced loosely at the knuckles as he rattles off every detail from the tip of his tongue: “167 shipments of illegal firearms to your district the minute our supply arrives from overseas on the first of each month - that’s roughly around 2000 per year entirely for your group alone. Free access through our subway tunnels for anything you need, and of course - solidarity for any-” Jackson flicks a hand at some invisible dust mite in the air, “-power struggles.”

Howon sits there, eyes grey, legs poised in his too-tight pants as he works down the last bit of smoke in his system. Despite everything, Jackson can see the purring glimmer of satisfaction in the other’s stone-cold gaze. “

And?” The other man prompts, shifting forward, hands clasped in front of his thin lips as he finally faces Jackson. “What do you want from me?”

Jackson’s words rattle off his tongue, smooth and rehearsed: “Complete and free movement through your district, all the way past the Gyeonggi-do station.” Howon’s single arched eyebrow reads something akin to that’s it? and Jackson’s mouth immediately gets the better of him as he finds himself blurting out, “Maybe one your pretty little pets as well,” motioning towards the boys and girls, lounging, supple and silent, outside of their tense bargaining ring.

Howon’s straight mouth finally twists, the man unable to keep the amusement off his face at the younger man’s brazen request. “Why not?” he chuckles dryly, bending deep at the waist before pushing himself upright on strong thighs. “A symbol of our union: your guns in exchange for a warm body to keep you company on cold, lonely nights.” He smiles openly for the first time since their meeting, teeth straight and canines sharp. Jackson has the distinct feeling he’s being made fun, but well, Howon isn’t exactly wrong.

This time, it’s Howon stepping out first through the ring of carved chairs, all his men rising to follow, leaving Jackson to exit last. He’s led through another rigid set of dusted hallways, only made worse by the rotting tapestries draped over the walls with fading beauties clad in kimonos, hanfus, and the like. Jackson has to admit, the other man’s sense of appropriation is quite elegant, even though it lacks something to be desired in the cleaning department. He keeps his pace even, lagging towards the bottom end of the group as he watches Howon pull a man forward, conversing with him in hushed tones and subtle motions. There’s nothing left for Jackson to be worried about, but he finds himself anticipatory for the first time in the long months since his assumption.

The room they come to must be the heart of the den, Jackson considers, stepping inside, practically pushed towards the middle of the circle by an imperceptible pressure. It’s covered entirely in silk drapery, tapestries and knotted curtains slipping down the walls onto the floors, floors that are a pool of various cushions and round beds, barely a hint of grey cement able to peek through the garish colors of the silk. Jackson wrinkles his nose for the barest of seconds; the musk of sweat and perfume permeates like a fog throughout the room.

“Namjoon,” Howon’s voice echoes throughout the room, nodding slightly at the man Jackson watched him converse with before. “Bring them in.”

The other man-Namjoon, bends almost imperceptibly at the waist before striding out the room, slipping out through an easy chink in the circle’s armor. Jackson blinks once in vague surprise, and the circle is formed once again, no weaknesses to be found. Howon turns toward him with a patient grin, and Jackson shoots back his own tight smile.

The mind-numbing incense of the pressure in the room grows, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, steadying his fingers against sweaty palms. He waits.

-

The familiar tap of dress shoes sound, muffled over the scattered layer of cushions on the cement floor. Jackson looks up, hands tensed within his pockets to see the penguin ring rearranging itself into lumped bunches as Namjoon re-enters the room, the hard pound of his boots followed by an unfamiliar string of soft brushing footsteps, the imprint of their sound pressed like dandelion dust into silk by light, bare feet.

Bare feet, long legs, all pale flesh on show as Jackson watches, breath caught, as a line of collared boys and girls kneel onto the floor of cushions, turning to him the open edge of their cheek with wide eyes and ramrod straight backs. The last one files in, presenting himself in the same fashion, but, huh - the entire curve of his porcelain collarbones to his arched throat is noticeably bare of any thick bands of leather. He lingers, just for a moment, on the pet’s bowed head and turns back to face Namjoon with a relaxed smile plastered over his face again. It’s time to negotiate.

“This is it?” he prompts, leaning back a little, rolling his shoulders ever so slightly in the tight confines of his suit jacket. The other man responds to his jibe with a quick flash of short canines, light dimples dipping into an angled jaw as he casually pushes the starched sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Tattoos, Jackson notes, with a jaunty raise of an eyebrow. The Virgin Mary winds her way up the man’s veined forearm in a picturesque coloring of black and grey, save for the sickly green tears rolling down her 2D cheeks. Religious? No can’t be it, Jackson decides, dampening a snort as he notes the two stark lines that form the upside down cross adorning the knuckle of Namjoon’s middle finger.

“I’ll have you know,” Namjoon comments, calm and frank, stepping beside the first pet and lightly running the crook of his finger over her cheek, “our pets are trained thoroughly in all aspects of behavior.” A response comes almost immediately as she dips her head back against his touch, the perfect picture of pretty obedience. Jackson’s stomach jumps at her unreadable glance. Satisfied, the other man lifts away his tattooed hand, straightening himself with a smug, dimpled smile.

“Of course, that’s not to say they don’t have any personality - isn’t that right Youngjae?” He moves onto the next pet, a boy with pink, perked lips who shoots Jackson a puffy, dark glare as Namjoon’s inked fingers come to rest under his sharp chin. Instead of following the tilt of the man’s hand, the kneeled pet bites, jerking a tan digit into his glossy pout, catching it in a hard flash of white teeth. Still, Namjoon only chuckles, wrenching back his thumb and wiping it casually up Youngjae’s flushed cheek in a long, possessive motion. There’s barely a hint of the bite against the skin of the other man’s finger, and Jackson watches the pet settle back down against the cushion, lidded gaze once again fixed upon the silk in front of him without a sound of protest. What a show, he considers carefully as Namjoon moves on to the next kneeled pet.

Of course, he’s thoroughly interested, perhaps even fascinated by these pets, almost inhuman creatures that bare themselves so transparently before an entire room of black-eyed men, before his own stare without a moment of hesitation in their absolute submission. Even for the ones like Youngjae, feigning at spitefulness, the automatic reaction of their bodies when Namjoon approaches, quickly gives them away in their convincing play. Still, to give credit where credit’s due, Jackson can’t help but wonder, just exactly how the other man has got all these wispy, pretty things turning towards him like he could somehow hand them the moon on the string with just a simple brush of a blasphemous finger at their jaws, under their throats, through fluffed hair, and against pouted cheeks. He can’t say his own pocketed hands haven’t begin to itch, urged, just slightly to touch, with the careless affection Namjoon gives and inexorably receives with every passing pet.

It’s been too long on his own, too cold without at least the casual embrace of another human body. Jackson had thought himself stronger without it, but, scanning over the blatant display of soft, bared flesh before him, he considers the possibility of self-sabotage.

The end of the chain of murmured introductions finally reaches the last kneeled pet, and Jackson looks down, a short spark of remembrance tripping in his mind. He was the only one without a collar, Jackson notes, eyes traveling over the open skin along a pale neck all the way down to exposed collarbones. The pet wears the same half-unbuttoned dress shirt, spread across wide shoulders to show off an expanse of unmarked flesh, paired with black silk shorts, barely a hint of its hem peeking out beneath draped linen, and the rest of it practically swallowed by the thick muscle of bared thighs. He looks up at Jackson now, gaze a hazy mix of brewed coffee, hazelnuts, and a clear night’s sky, and Jackson swallows around the sudden lump in his mouth. He does his best to stare back, steady but not demanding, and all he receives is a dreamy blink from sleepy fox eyes.

There it is again - the twitch in his fingers, the hot irritation against his palms. Peach round cheeks call for the lightest of pinches, the glossy curve of a sharp cupid’s bow tempt an errant finger. Jackson has never met a cherub with such inky black hair, swirling in wisps of silk across gently fluttering eyelashes. The pet tilts his head, baring the translucent vein of his collarless neck in the dusty yellow lighting of the drug den, and Jackson is compelled to cover the spotless skin there with his own calloused, scarred palms.  

What is something so vulnerable, so soft doing here, trapped, in a place like this?

The compulsion grows stronger, to do more than watch - rather to touch, to cover, to protect, and Jackson realizes it’s too late when Namjoon’s gone silent, when the whole room has fallen into a smoky hush because somehow, suddenly, there’s a warm cheek pillowing itself into the curve his palms, black silk nuzzling over his jumping pulse, and the innocent brown light of two upturned orbs drawing him in like a silent siren’s song. He can’t breath for an eternity of uncountable seconds.

“I see Jooheon has already introduced himself to you.” Namjoon’s deep baritone rings through Jackson’s jumbled thoughts, and his hand inadvertently flinches against the lenient curve of the pet’s - Jooheon’s - proffered flesh. A soft chirrup echoes over his palm, and his attention is drawn down to a pair of full lips, pulled into an expression Jackson would call a strangely petulant pout.

“Feeling forward today, hmm?” the other man hums, so sweet it’s like a mother cooing to her baby, and Jackson watches the same tattooed hand that had caressed so many others, thread itself into gleaming locks, pressing and kneading until Jooheon’s porcelain neck is arching backwards in plain submission. His own hand falls empty to the side, only a heated imprint left along its flattened palm.

Jackson forces himself to speak, to keep up an unfazed pretense, even as Namjoon’s ink-stained finger begins winding its way down the stretch of Jooheon’s bared neck, the upside down cross of his middle knuckle pressing against the hollow indent at the base of the pet’s collarbones. “So,” he prompts, voice raw and rough, “why no collar?”

It’s like he hasn’t been heard at all as Namjoon’s reverent touches continue for a few moments, arched gaze completely focused on the slight part of the pet’s supple mouth. He’s about to dislodge the awkward cough in back of his throat, when finally, the other man straightens with an age-old sigh, hand slipping, reluctant, from Jooheon’s unmarred throat. He slips the same hand into his pocket, shoulders flat, a perfect mirror of Jackson’s posture as his voice hardens into the same deep register from before.

“Simply put, he doesn’t talk.” He glances back down, meeting Jooheon’s diaphanous gaze, eyes softening for the barest of moments before looking up again. “We know he can understand us, but ever since we found him three years ago, he hasn’t uttered a single word. The clients are, to say the least, a little put off by his muteness.” Namjoon sighs again, body depressing with the strong exhale as if from some sense of personal disappointment, and Jackson’s heart picks up pace again as he picks through the hidden implications behind the other man’s statement.

Broken, not good enough, a simple piece of decoration, abandoned, pushed off to the side - and perhaps his for the taking.

“I want this one.”

Jackson is brazen, unflinching as he steps forward, the remnant of heat on his clenched hand drawn, magnetized, to Jooheon’s tilted stare, and he boldly declares his newfound intent with his gaze directly on Namjoon’s and his grip at the side of the pet’s sluggish pulse. A vibration sounds against his palm, and he finds himself stroking his thumb absentmindedly over the edge of a rounded jaw, soothing away what suspiciously sounds like whines under the rough pad of his finger.

Namjoon’s sharp gaze shifts minutely towards his boss, who’s lit up another acrid cigarette between his stern lips, some kind of invisible assent passing between the smoke curling through the room before he’s turning back to Jackson, eyes narrowed with an unpleasant twist to his mouth. “Don’t be brash. I mean, I’ve just told you what’s wrong with him - are you absolutely sure?”

An ugly twitch convulses through Jooheon’s previously smooth pulse, and Jackson tightens his grip around the back of the pet’s neck until the minute shaking finally subsides into his touch. “Of course.” He smiles, baring his teeth in what Kihyun calls his absolutely shit-eating grin.

Namjoon frowns, a dark shadow flitting over the hard edges of his expression, and Jackson tenses in preparation for another growled protest, but then Howon’s cold-steel voice is ringing through the thick air between them, dispelling the argument with the sharp incense of his smoking cigarette.

“Let him have what he wants. After all-” he takes another drag of the burning cancer stick, its flaring embers illuminated in his dead gaze, “what more could you want than a pet that would never talk back to its master? Perhaps,” he blows out another trail of gray smoke, pinched eyes turning on Jooheon for a second, “maybe even more should learn from his example.”

Jackson smiles, the lines of his face tight, and he nods his silent thanks. Howon returns it with a minute twitch of his own lips, and motions with a careless sweep of his hand for everyone to file out of the room. His men blend into an amorphous grouping of plain back as they sweep out the door, and the pets rise to their bare feet, following after them in a line of pure white. Jackson strains his neck, catching Jooheon’s hazy coffee and stardust eyes with an attempt at a genuine grin. He receives a slight perk of lips, complete with a hint of dimples, before Jooheon (pet, his mind whispers) is gone, the curled crown of his jet black head melting back into a sea of black and white.

Namjoon stares as he stalks past Jackson, the last one out of the room save for Jackson himself and Howon. His stringent gaze is unreadable, and the young boss watches the hunched lines of his back disappear out through the carved doorway before deciding to wipe away the worry in his mind for other much more pressing thoughts. Namely, thoughts about his newly acquired pet with the face of a cherub, the stare of an oracle, and the voice of a trapped songbird. Jackson is determined to hear him sing somehow.

Howon flicks the cigarette to the floor, grinding it into ash with the heel of his shoe as he regards Jackson with something akin to acceptance as he finally strides towards the empty doorway. “He’ll be sent your way shortly. Please feel free to wait outside.”

He gestures with an upturned palm towards Jackson’s direction, and they shake hands again, meeting each other’s gazes with unfiltered intentions. Howon smiles, broad lines indenting themselves into each cheek, the top row of his teeth glinting like a full moon on a dark night.

“It was good doing business with you.”

Sleep with me: (it’s after the first afternoon of the bargain)

Jackson's brought Jooheon home, got him all soft and settled in his room with a big fancy upholstered bed as he sits behind his desk to finish up some work, quietly observing the pet occasionally the entire time. Jooheon is technically allowed to roam free, but he only sits at the foot of Jackson's bed dozing with his head and arms propped against a corner, looking up ever so often out through the open windows and over at Jackson. Jackson gets up every 30 minutes or so, just to squat down next to the pet, looking him in the eyes only to receive a sleepy blink and he can't help but run his hands through fluffed locks as Jooheon coos contentedly into his hand. He always wonders if Jooheon needs anything, if he ever wants to get up, but it doesn't ever seem like it so the come and go kinda cycle continues until it's dark and Jackson's stripping messily out of his jacket and pants to go to bed - all nightly rituals forgone for today due to the big deal. And there's Jooheon, still propped against the bed, watching him out of the corner of sleek eyes, pale thighs a creamy contrast against the dark wood of his floor and jackson's plodding over on bare feet, squatting again for a last time, patting lightly at chubby cheeks as Jooheon props his head up to smile at him and Jackson's like "...I'll be going to bed now"

And Jooheon's plain smile only continues, nodding a little as Jackson begins slipping under his covers, and of course Jackson can only sit there, warm and suffocating in bed as he watches Jooheon's dark head lay back down against the corner of the mattress, legs still coiled against the cold hardwood floors - and it its him, he hasn't given permission yet. So then he's throwing back the covers, and scooching to the edge of the bed and cradling his palm under Jooheon's cotton soft cheek again, lifting the pet to look up at him and there's little red wrinkles of sheet imprints against Jooheon's round cheeks and jackson's heart twinges w such a sore ache he doesn't know how to reach out without immediately forcing himself onto the pet and scaring him off. Jooheon just blinks at him, brown eyes liquid and hazy with sleep, almost pouting indignantly. and Jackson, just reaches the same hand through his hair, smoothing back rumpled bangs, over and over again, scratching lightly at the pet's scalp as Jooheon's neck arches in his grasp and he's wiping a thumb over the red marks on Jooheon's face as he whispers "Sleep with me?" patting lightly at the silk clad body of his bed. Jooheon's cocking his head for a few seconds, staring at Jackson with soft open eyes and the older man is almost scared he wasn't understand - but then there's a sleeved hand pulling around his arm and he's automatically hauling up jooheon by his waist, the light weight of arms looping around his neck as the sweet scent of warmth and strangely dried flowers blooms through his nose. Jooheon's cradled in his lap, smooth legs curled up over his tanned own and jackson looks wonderingly down at his hands, practically melting into the curve of Jooheon's waist (Ref: https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/920418165968003077/920418148964212736/eph4Vr04.jpg:large ) All curled in Jackson's lap, wisps of hair brushing against the other's cheek Jackson is casually just holding Jooheon, feeling the way a warm soft body is shifting against his and of course Jooheon is still clad in the "uniform" of the other pets a plain loose white dress shirt and a pair of fine silk shorts. He's roughly fingering the edge of said shorts, looking over when a breathy whine comes past his cheek and he hikes the pet up higher in his lap, securing both hands around his waist and asks slowly, calmly "what kind of clothes do you like Jooheon?" He's receiving that same tilted stare again, eyes slit in an unreadable moment of consideration and jackson finds himself stroking casually at the pet's flank, some kind of strange reassurance he supposes. (like even getting a pet in the first place was only a power play, but now that he has one that's so soft...he's not sure how to handle him) Then there's a rounded finger poking, tracing down his bare chest and he has to stop himself from reacting at the sudden thrill that runs through him, following the pet's lidded gaze towards his own bare chest and he can't help but sigh, even as he tightens his grip around the other's supple waist like "You really don't talk, do you?" but the finger keeps poking, insistent, and there's a high whine reverberating at the edge of his cheek as Jooheon adamantly pushes up against Jackson's bare chest and Jackson really doesn't understand, no clothes? His chest? Naked? But then frustrated, a little huff of breath tickles along the column of his neck and the finger turns to point at the scattered pile of loose t shirts on the back of a dressing chair at the other corner of his room and Jackson tentatively tries "...My clothes?" and suddenly there's a happy coo of approval, sliding like silk over his collarbones and Jooheon's dark head of hair is bobbing eagerly as he re-situates himself back into the cradle between Jackson's legs. The next morning Jackson is pulling a droopy Jooheon by a limp wrist over to his closet and opening the entire thing as he gently pushes Jooheon in front of him  and he's stating calmly into Jooheon's ear, lips brushing past wayward curls, pressing the center of his palm into the small of the other's back like “Choose whatever you want" and then there's a small sound of wonderment in the back of Jooheon's throat and he's carefully approaching the vast closet. Pushing and pulling things aside so slowly if Jackson closed his eyes he wouldn't be able to hear a thing, but he waits, patient, watching as he carelessly rifles through his own suits and pulling a pair on. But when there's finally a soft pair of footsteps behind him, he looks over to see Jooheon clad in one of his old, ratty oversized winter sweaters, collarbones entirely on show, still bared neck too vulnerable in the warm morning light. The hem of the sweater is most definitely too long, falling midway to bare thighs that all jackson can see is leg and more leg, he gets the cocked head look for the third time since the bargain, and all he can focus on is the long stretch of skin at Jooheon's neck. The only thing he can do to distract himself from Jooheon's suddenly more scandalous choice of fashion, is to draw the pet close, wrapping the callused skin of his palm over the other's dimpled cheeks as he mutters "We've got to get you a collar soon." in which he receives a purring sound of approval sleeved fingers come up to clutch gently at his wrist, keeping his hand there as Jooheon presses himself happily into Jackson's grip.

Outside perspective: Word spreads fast that the boss is entirely enamored, even obsessed, with his new pet. Kihyun notes the daily gossip with a blank face and open ears. He can’t refute it; Jackson practically brings Jooheon with him wherever he goes - regardless of societal propriety.

You like sweets?:

He needs glasses: probably kihyun again?

A pet for a pet: kitty

“You really don’t talk, do you?”: probably the whole “jackson” “master” thing

What else would it be used for?: kihyun being mean

“I need to be careful tonight - for you”: the party

--- cowritten with and conceived with the brilliant @deardystopia

Blind/mute magic au

in one of those fantasy universes where everyone happily coexists and the humans live well in the world w/ other magical creatures

and jooheon's just your typical neighborhood witch

but what if he was cursed somehow when he was younger and so he's blind

but he still manages to get around well enough and every week there’s a delivery boy to help get him materials and to send off the charms he makes

its like a quiet and domestic life but what if his usual delivery boy gets switched for someone else

because they're doing their new spring reshuffling thing so older employees get a new route and the new ones get to learn the old ones

and so changkyun is one of the new delivery boys and its one of the few jobs he feels safe enough doing w/ his disability - he's deaf

and so the old delivery boy knew about Jooheon's disability and knew how to work with that, knowing which wards on the door he should purposefully set off to let the witch know he was there

RIGHT LIKE IM JUST IMAGINING jars with dried flowers and crystal sunlight filtering through open windows as jooheon makes some tea for ck

ok so like usually jooheon's used to the right wards going off and so the delivery boy will just leave the package and then take the already pre-wrapped and pre-set charms to ship off

but like this time it feels completely different and so he gets up to go an d check

so like ck standing there awkwardly cause he doesn't see a doorbell and decides to knock on the door but then it swings open on its own to reveal the owner of the house

i kinda think jooheon would wear like soft browns and whites, like a white turtleneck probs

and changkyun probably layers w/ a ton of jackets and plaid and jeans?

that’s what i was thinking

like this kinda look w/o the kiddy stuff for jh and ck's hairstyle for that too

ck would totally wear a ton of hoodies and loose jackets

this hairstyle w/ the middle part for jh

soft flower witch jooheon

omg yesss

yeah the middle part is what i was thinking

and like a simple silver necklace or smth w/ a little bee charm

or a flower i honestly can't decide

i think it'd just be really cute to have a scene where jooheon gently feels around changkyuns face to get an image of him and he doens't realize he's kinda looking directly into ck's eyes and is a little too close

i totally want them to go for a walk together on a rainy day

and jooheon puts a charm on their umbrella so nobody gets wet

its cute and ck taps against his wrist to guide him away from big puddles

and whispers lowly because he totally wants to describe how pretty it is outside to jooheon even though he doesn't usually like to speak cause he doesn't know what he sounds like

delivery boy outfit totally needs a snapback

dude but like what if ck always wears a ton of layers and pulls his hat down low cause he always feels so unsure of himself w/ his disability and tries to shield himself w clothing

but after meeting jooheon

and seeing how open and happily he lives w/ his disability, always smiling and never hiding his eyes even though he can't see

he kind of starts gaining his own confidence

like one day he comes and like jooheon always physically greets him to makes ure its the right person and he's like "oh, no hoodies today?" cause the fabric under his hand is usually thick, but today its just bare skin

and changkyun just smiles shyly and taps out "yep" against jooheons wrist

THIS IS THE TEA JOOHEON MAKES FOR CK IN THE OTHER AU WITH CRUSHED PETALS OR SMTH, And Changkyun s like asks you're blind and yet everything you do is so beautiful

Jk wait that's too early

Like "the tea and the cup match so well" and jooheon just laughs tapping blindly at Changkyun s head and just says "witch senses", the words flowering beautifully across Changkyun’s charmed board as jooheon settles down with his own cup, AND FLOWERS TOTALLY RESPOND WELL TO HIS TOUCH AND IT WORDS SO NATURALLY HE JUST STICKS TO THAT AREA

Like turning up their faces just subtly everytime he walks by, Responding naturally to him and it's very easy for him to use flowers, more so than any other material

Ck would totally be able to see all this sitting at a table and he's just so lovestruck watching the flowers crowd adoringly for Jooheon's attention, Omg what if he usually makes packages of homemade tea with some simple spells integrated to help w sleep or relaxation, Yeeeesssssss but they work really well so he has a good customer base

And also KIHYUN helps design an online page and process Orders

And takes a ton of sample photos to put up on the page

Also in the like about section there's a cute pic of jooheon doing a peace sign w muddy fingers next to some flowers and that's like the only pic of him ever, And there’s definitely an online group dedicated to his tea, like freaking out when a new sample comes out

And also like screaming about how there's only one pic of him but definitely a confirmed cutie bc there handwritten notes that are shaky and messy but super sweet in every package

Ok but like what if minhyuk was blessed w the gift of visual arts so of course he draws

But he also loves running his aesthetic blog and he posts artsy pics of his drawings and cafes and shit

And like one day there's a pic of him and at the corner is boy with softly curled hair and a pink sweater, facemask pulled below his chin as he cups both hands around his cup of coffee, sipping it through a straw as he looks blankly to the side, And his fans are like ???!?!?! And someone is LIKE OH FUCK THAT’S JOOHEON YO

And then minhyuk’s secretly laughing about how adorable jooheon looks and didn't know he took a pic

When his phone suddenly is just like blowing up w alerts, And jooheon sighs "hyung please check your alerts"

And minhyuk is like wtf is going on

And he's getting DM s like

OMFG THATS JOOHEON

YOU KNOW JOOHEON?

PLEASE POST MORE WITH JOOHEON

And then minhyuk Fits the phone against Jooheon's palm, And jooheon can feel the phone continuously vibrating like not stopping at all and he's like "hyung what's going on"

And minhyuk just chuckles at the lost look on his face and says "my followers love you"

And it's the 2nd time he's only ever seen jooheon this red

Followed only by the first time minhyuk had teased him about that new delivery boy and his oh so deep voice, And so jooheon face bursts into flames as he squeaks out "what!!?" before snatching his hand away and desperately sucking at his coffee adamantly ignoring minhyuks guffaws

jh would have this phone case

When Jooheon gets knees deep in fresh spring earth he of course has to change into more suitable clothes. He doesn’t actually know the material or (ha) color of those nice sweaters Minhyuk always forces him to buy, but they’re beautifully soft against his skin. He wants to keep them that way, and as much as he loves the press of wet dirt under his fingers, his sweaters probably wouldn’t appreciate it to the same degree.

So one day Changkyun comes on his usual delivery route, and there’s a note left in Jooheon’s blocky script, I’m out back! with a round creature resembling a bee drawn at the bottom. He finds the witch completely kneeled on the ground on all fours, dressed in tight leggings and a black hoodie, as he digs at an already  significantly deep hole. He taps lightly on the ground with his foot, alerting Jooheon of his presence.

“Changkyun?” Jooheon immediately looks up, eyes blindly flickering towards his general direction. The delivery boy hums lowly and taps again in affirmation, and Jooheon’s smile widens even more, eyes crinkling shut into thin slits, the indents of dimples forming like two shadowed ponds on his cheeks.

Once he’s sure of the right person, the witch turns back to the task at hand, fumbling for the shovel as he starts digging again. The pit’s deep enough Jooheon has to sink his upper body forward, raising his lower half in the air in a meager attempt to keep balance. Changkyun’s eyes are inevitably drawn to his pert bottom, tightly clad in leggings he’s never seen before.

He shuffles over and sits down next to Jooheon, clearing his throat as he prepares to speak. “I’ve never seen you wear this before,” he comments casually as Jooheon pauses to pay attention to his words. “That’s right,” the witch ponders, and the shape of his mouth corresponding with the letters scrawling across Changkyun’s charmed board. “I don’t usually wear this kind of….” he grimaces, searching for the right word, “tight clothing?”

He sighs, ruffling dirt crusted fingers in his hair and Changkyun watches, scrutinizing as the wet earth sticks adamantly to shining locks. Their disabilities make them sensitive towards certain forms of contact, and brushing the other’s cheeks clean of dried earth would definitely be a violation of Jooheon’s comfort zone. He keeps his fingers clenched and still against his lap.

“My friends alway watch out for me, bringing me clothing and such. This one,” he gestures at the lycra stretching over his legs, “was from a friend who modeled for an exercise brand. I guess he thought he would send me some to try…” He plucks at the fabric, letting it snap back against his skin, laughing nervously. “It’s not really my kind of thing, well as much as possible to figure out what “my thing” is, but at least it's good for dirty labor?”

Changkyun laughs at his vaguely apologetic expression, the sentence ending itself on his board with a question mark, and he nods sagely in response, tapping once to show his agreement. “You look, you look good.” he forces out, his voice catching tightly in the middle. He doesn’t need to look at his board to understand Jooheon’s reply, all of it completely apparent in the pink in his cheeks and the “o” of his mouth before fumbling quickly into a “thank you.”

Like "you look amazing in pink" and jooheon sighs "I don't know what it even looks like" and minhyuk just flounders to describe it "it's just light, and soft, and....pink??" He ends up stubbornly pushing a pile.of sweaters into Jooheon's hands anyway

Maybe like cursed when he was still in the womb or smth

Cause eventually I want like a scene where he and Changkyun are hanging and he just realizes how happy and comfortable he is w the other and he blinks

And the next moment piercing rays are flooding his eyes and it hurts so much he hides his face in his hands as tears leak out uncontrollably

I need a good reason for why he got that kind of curse put on him tho

Then he gets to match a voice to a face when Changkyun urgently asks, "are you okay"?" leaning over to grasp his wrists

Pink lips pressed into a worried line and almond eyes gazing directly into his own tear stained ones, jooheon can't help but cry even harder

Changkyun flails in panic, wrapping an arm around his back, trying to soothe him as he asks again "what's wrong?"

His board stays empty for a few moments more before they fill with 3 words that leave him perfectly stunned

“I can see.”

Changkyun immediately goes to draw away, some part of him panicking at Jooheon's newfound sight

But the witch turns and immediately lunges to embrace him, both of them landing harshly against the ground as the other hides his face in changkyuns neck

I want to like do something where ck gets to hear like they're made for each other and them being together breaks it but hmmmmm. Changkyun stays still, relaxing his body as Jooheon shakes against him. His neck is wet with tears and its soaking through to his jacket, but he only pulls the other man closer to himself, wrapping both of his arms around the other's middle. Suddenly, something is filtering into his brain, the ever static silence interrupted by pin pricks of hiccuped cries. It can't be, he panics, hands leaving Jooheon's middle to cup around his ears. He can hear the echo of sound against his palms, and curls up, completely overwhelmed. Jooheon sits up confused at the sudden shift of the body below him, and sees with his newfound sight, Changkyun's face scrunched in pain as he turns away from him. Jooheon hurriedly wipes away the gathered moisture, before leaning over to shadow over Changkyun's prone form. “Changkyun, Changkyun-ah! What happened?” He whispers urgently, completely forgetting the other’s charmed board. Neither of them realize it for a moment, when Changkyun looks up at him, comprehension immediate in his eyes.

“I...I can hear,” he stutters, hands dropping incredulously as a world of sounds flood through his ears; the chirp of birds, the whistle of the wind, but most importantly Jooheon’s shocked gasp as he sits up, toppling back onto the ground.

The witch presses a hand over his mouth, muffling any other sounds that could unwillingly escape his throat. It’s silent between them, but for Changkyun it’s more than he’s ever heard all his life.

Jooheon waits hesitantly, before asking as quietly as possible, “Is...is this real?” His voice, light and almost whiny, fits perfectly with the curved script that had written itself across Changkyun’s board many times.

“It,” he chokes at the low rumble of his own voice, “it is.” The shock sets in for the both of them, Jooheon still squinting furiously at all the colors and shapes passing rapidly through his retinas, and the echo of sobs still bouncing in Changkyun’s ears. They lock gazes, newfound senses tingling with every movement, and it’s not definite who moves first, but they simultaneously meet in the middle, bodies crashing in a locked embrace.

[bloodycassian]

rhys x (no gender) reader - sword of all

Rhys was sure of only a few things in the world. The main one was that he was sure he would never know what the Cauldron threw at him.

  When a bleeding Fae showed up on his dock, covered in black blood and wounded... he was only mildly surprised. The more interesting part of the situation was that the Fae carried a mighty sword that only Amren could identify.

"That weapon is a sign from the cauldron itself Rhysand. If you do not listen now you're a fool." She had hissed outside the door of the infirmary. Rhys had refused to let you be tortured for information on the sword that refused to leave your hand. "Interesting..." Madja had muttered at the sight of such a bond. It wasn't attached, it simply just... refused to move from your hand.

  "That is the Mother telling you! What else does she have to do? Write it in the clouds while you're flying?" Amren continued, her eyes burning with ferocity. Her desire for Rhys to be king of all Prythian had worn off months ago, unless provoked. Unless a stranger with The Sword of All was miraculously shipped directly to Velaris.

  "We know nothing of them. It could be a trap." Cassian intervened from the small couch outside the healers room. The infirmary was crowded, but in a homey way. Plants and vines creeped over the climbable areas, darkening the small windows and making the room feel like a rainforest.

  "Where is my spymaster, Cassian?" Rhys asked, still staring down Amren as brooded at him.

  "I uh..." he stammered, "See.. he - He'll be here any-" Azriel appeared in the doorway, his shadows filling the room. The plants inside seemed to shrink away. He held an ice pack to his ribs and glared at Cassian while limping forward.

  "It seems you pissed off your mate last night." Azriel said, then leaned down slowly to say softly "Next time you suggest she train with me, it will end poorly for you."

  Rhys smiled at that. but it was quickly tainted by Amren's growl. "This is serious, you grown bats. Rask hasn't seen this sword in over five millenia. If they find out we have it there will be an army at our doorstep."

  "The sword-" Azriel groaned lightly as he sat down next to Cassian. "doesnt exist. It was lost with the rebellion. We make sure it stays that way."

"I have three groups of Illyrians flying over the west sea looking for anyone who may have seen the boat carrying them and the sword. If they find anything it will be handled." Cassian promised.

  Amren looked to them, finally unlocking her glare from Rhys. She seemed satisfied enough. "I hope to be hearing from you... with that sword in your hand." She raised her chin and left without another word.

  Azriel seemed to be listening to the Madja in the next room. His shadows curling and whispering to him over his shoulders. "Barely injured.. with that much blood?" He looked to Rhys with curiosity.

  "I would not want to be on the receiving end of that sword." Rhys replied, then turned to oversee the healer's attempt to remove the weapon from your grasp. + You awoke with a searing pain in your palm. You sat up, and were instantly overtaken by a dizziness that pulled you to lean against the dark colored leather couch. 

"I must say, trying to transport someone who has a sword attached to them is more difficult than it sounds." The dark haired figure said, his slim yet strong body turning to face you. His eyes were dark, even against his darker skin. The all black outfit mixed with those eyes told you exactly who he was.

"High lord." You greeted, nodding as much as you could.

  "It's not every day I have visitors washing up on my shores. Even my spymaster failed to detect you." He paced from the end of the couch to the fireplace in the small living area. The house was dark, but not overtly so. A surprisingly cozy home compared to what you were expecting of Velaris. "With that being said you could imagine that my court has a few...questions." He held out a hand and a glass of amber liquid appeared. You felt your stomach roll at the sight of it.

 Rhysand shrugged. "If you're feeling well enough.. our healer said you should be fine within a few days."

  You straightened, weary of his kindness. You didnt feel threatened by his presence but the High Fae you had imagined ruling the night court did not match the person in front of you. "They paid me. Then they killed half my village." You said plainly, holding the sword in both hands. A look of shock flashed across Rhysand's face. The room seemed to darken with it.

  "The queens? Why would they-"

  "Not the queens." You corrected, reaching for the glass of liquor he had placed on the solid oak table in front of you. "Something far more...deadly. They were like ghosts, they were people but...illusions. They bound me and the sword by a spell, they spoke a language I did not recognize. Then I woke up to that creature carrying me."

  "You..." He smiled and looked to his feet in amusement, trying to hide the laugh. A shiver of delight ran through you at at the sight of his grin. You wanted to see it more.

 "You mean Mor- she's fierce but can be nice when she decides to." He sat on the arm chair next to you.

  "That's.. no. I mean-" You stammered, unable to explain. "She is light.. shes- do you not see it? She is made of light. It seeps through her bones." You recalled the bright figure cradling you out of the small boat before you passed out again.

  Rhys looked bewildered. He opened his mouth to speak but instead shook his head and got up. "I'll be back- I need to speak to someone. There are two Wraiths that keep the house functioning, feel free to call upon them if you need anything." His face was shrouded in darkness as he frowned, walked to the hall and out the front door. 

You got up after him as best you could, still dizzy from whatever medicaiton they had given you. He stood on the front step only a few seconds before darkness enveloped his entire body. And you swore you saw a darker wall of wings envelope him before he was full shrouded.

  without a glance back he disappeared into a black shadow. Worry tugged at your stomach.