#and it becomes this echo chamber and very exhausting

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

This fandom is very skilled at making mountains out of molehills.

[kakushino]

The Queen

Ryomen Sukuna x F! Reader

He never orders you around - rather, he requests.

Tags: slight gore, suggestive, fem reader, true form Sukuna Word count: 1,7k

Masterlist

AN: Fanart used in banner made by the amazing @innaillus - be sure to check out their divine fanart Written as a Secret Santa's gift for @zoyakuna - Merry (early) Christmas! (and pls stop slandering Giyuu, it's causing me undue stress)

There was little to amuse you in your secluded throne room underground. 

Correction - there had been little to amuse you out of your throne room, so you had retreated back into your palace - and even then, was it a palace, when there were no servants, no great halls, no music, and no consort?

Just you - the Supreme Sovereign - and your throne made of roots and vines. 

Which made it odd to hear a sound echo in your chamber. You feared nothing, no one, and your heart remained steady, not a beat out of place, your eyes closed as you rested from lifetimes of exhaustion.

“Who goes there?” you called out, not moving from your reclined position. 

You were it to him, the holy grail of his searching - the Queen of Curses. Your name was feared enough that it had been scratched out from all written sources, the feats accredited to you terrifying… yet thrilling to Sukuna. He had needed to meet you, though he knew not why… A deep hunger for companionship, another who could stand at his level, who could reign with him from his Shrine, a craving so consuming he nearly went mad with his searching. 

And he did find you, though hardly in the condition he thought he would.

“This is what You have become? The cynosure of all mortals reduced to a wretch.” 

The voice was rough, forceful - distinctly male - though the tone held a hint of remorse and confusion. “All beauty is short-lived,” was all you said, a slight irritation churning your stomach for the first time in - decades, centuries, millenia? Who knows?

“Not for curses. We are eternal.” You felt the way cursed energy swirled around him - violent, and intense. It lashed out at your own, but like water parting around a blade, yours did too, accepting and redirecting the angry force, dispersing it, and eventually absorbing it. It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being suffocated under the weight of the world, a drop of water quenching a soul-deep thirst in the desert of life.

You opened your eyes and sat up properly as you studied him.

The man - curse - was tall, broad, and regal. A king would be a title befitting his posture. His hair was a light color you could hardly make out in the darkness of your abode. The dark marks adorning his face stood out starkly against his skin, as did the shape of the disfigured flesh on the right side of his face. Four gleaming eyes were focused on you, four arms relaxed at his sides.

This man was fascinating, and beautiful; he could easily sway the hearts of humans, bring them to their knees. Too bad you were not human.

“Join me, your Majesty.” Despite the wording, it was a plea. How odd. 

“Who are you to ask anything of me?” You blinked slowly. You felt the way cursed energy swirled around him - violent, intense, … defensive, lonely. It enticed you, spoke to you in a language you understood all too well. It wasn’t in your nature to deny an honest request.

“Ryomen Sukuna, your Majesty,” he introduced himself. There was a sense of pride in the way he spoke, as if his existence was created, carved out, into the world by his own hands.

Perhaps Ryomen Sukuna would be the cure to your continued boredom. 

You stood up from your throne, your figure hardly atrophied as your cursed energy kept you in peak form. The roots and vines retreated into the cave walls, leaving no trace of your royal seat, the chamber empty again for centuries to come.

“Very well.”

Living with Sukuna was hardly boring. Each day, you felt your apathy falling away as you spent time with the King of Curses, until you smiled freely in his presence. The day you realized he softened you to this degree came all too suddenly.

His cruelty to humans who sought to undermine him was but a flimsy curtain of who he truly was. Like a displeased cat, claws exposed, he scratched up those daring to approach him, but with you -

With you he was as playful and borderline affectionate as the tabby you used to feed back in your human days. It warmed your heart, and your cheeks, to feel his eyes on your figure. It made you feel unsteady on your feet. It made you question who was the ruler of the other, who held the power over the other; the power imbalance slowly became a balance - your energy dimmed by the way he could play you like a puppet.

All these feelings weaved together and knotted around your heart, snaring you in a complex web too tight to escape, exposing your throat to him like a delicacy to be gorged upon.

Only if you let him know, that is.

You somehow felt that a man like him wouldn’t settle, and more importantly, he was a man; just another one of the hordes who wanted a demure consort, you could bet. You were not a dainty flower he likely sought; you were a weed - growing strong despite the harshest of conditions, clawing out a place for your existence where there had been none before. The Curse of Curses.

So you buried those feelings like a female buried herself under layers of junihitoe - though you refused to wear that monstrosity despite the latest fashion in Japan, as all the fabric was too heavy for comfort. You made do with the yukata you stole from Sukuna’s wardrobe. It was definitely not because it smelled like him. 

You kept away from the humans and the ruling in his Shrine, spending time with Uraume, him, or alone in the gardens - until you could not. He’d left you in charge of his Kingdom when he had business to do. 

Human men were deplorable, thinking you were just a weak curse to be manipulated and slandered. You didn’t raise your voice at all, yet it shut everyone up in the hall - save for one local lord thinking himself too mighty to listen. No amount of flattery would have kept him alive after that. A wave of your hand made vines grow out of his guts - burrowing through his flesh as easily as tearing paper apart; sweet-smelling white flowers bloomed from the mess of red-coated plant matter in the middle of the chamber. 

You sat in Sukuna’s throne of bones, regal and untouchable.

That was how he found you - presiding over his subjects like the Goddess you were, and bloody Spring sprouted in front of him, rubies glinting upon the stone floors like a grotesque decoration. 

At first, he had wanted to study you - the Queen of Curses, the Supreme Sovereign, older than him, wiser, more powerful. Forgotten, yet not forgotten enough for him not to find any sources mentioning your title. He had been curious about you, and then he became curious about the feelings you evoked in him. Your presence in his home converted from an adornment into an emollient to him, smoothing the rough edges and softening the spikes of his defenses against you, yet you remained the centerpiece of his attention, even when you weren’t in his presence. He found himself thinking about you in all his waking moments.

“Everyone, out.”

He could not hide his devotion to you if he tried now - it had grown roots in his soul and fed off of his life-force, yet strengthened it twice as much. His heart was set ablaze every time he laid eyes upon your form, the blood in his veins searing hot, branding him from the inside - a slave to you forevermore.

And so he knelt at your feet, the bottom two of his arms supporting him as he leaned forward, his top pair carefully reaching for your foot and raising it to his face.

The King of Curses kissed your ankle, closing his eyes in silent worship to his Goddess, his World. 

“Your Majesty,” he greeted you in a whisper, his lips caressing your skin.

Your eyes grew soft as you studied him, your posture proud but your expression fond. “Sukuna.”

Wet, hot tongue darted out to taste your skin, making you jolt and tear your leg from his grasp with pursed lips. The tabby was particularly impertinent today.

“You have no respect for your Queen, do you?” 

“On the contrary, I hold all the respect for you.” His smirk was mischievous, he knew as well as you did neither of you were serious about this. Just a harmless teasing, if a bit skewed. 

You used your foot to lightly push against his chest to tip him over onto his back - which he let you do, for he could have as easily resisted. Even falling down, he looked graceful. It made you feel warm inside your ribcage as you pushed a joyous smile down.

Sukuna turned the fall into a backwards roll, ending up on his knees again.

“At least you know your place - on your knees before me…”

“I-” he licked his lips, “I would gladly be on my knees for you all day, Your Majesty.”

Oh? It was your turn to give him a smile full of mischief as he slowly moved back to you. You remained silent.

“Has a cat got your tongue?” 

Sukuna shuffled forward on his knees, his top pair of arms resting on the bones of his throne as he came even closer. Palms trailing to your thighs and covering them with his hands - an easy feat with his size. 

You could do naught but marvel at the contrast of your limbs and his - each powerful and deadly in their own right, each in a different way. There was no tremor of fear in your muscles, only anticipation, even while he lightly spread your legs to fit his torso between them as you lounged on his throne.

“Let me feast on your nectar.” His voice, smooth like silk, a plea rather than an order, the nuance of his tone telling all you needed to know. He appeared unreadable to others, but he was as exposed and vulnerable as a newborn babe to you at this moment.

Even so, your lips parted in surprise at his request for you didn’t expect him to say it out loud at last. “Forward, aren’t you?”

His carmine eyes - all four of them - focused on yours with an intensity you were only just getting used to with him. Sukuna said nothing as he waited for your response.

The devil didn’t bargain, after all.

“Very well… Show me how you would worship your Queen, my King.”

dividers by the divine @benkeibear

network: @enchantedforest-network

[wlwfanfictionss]

Relax, and let go

Alicent Hightower x Female! Reader

Summary: When the duties of the realm take their toll on her, her sworn sword takes care of their Queen.

or: the one where reader fucks Alicent in a bathtub :)

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Soft smut (Alicent deserves some love), top!reader obv, yearning hehe MDNI!!!!!

a/n: Im back! sort of lol. Trying to get back into writing, and what better way to get back into it then with a little Alicent content right before season two?? Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you all would like to see more Alicent content. Anywayssss....#teamgreen

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

Her footsteps were heavy on the cold stone floor of the halls. The Council meeting had been a long one, the sun had already been set for a while now, the castle quiet since most staff and royals had retreated to their own chambers. The Queen made her way to her bedchambers at the very end of the hall, escorted by her sworn sword. You both walked in silence, you could see the weight of her duties dragging her down. Her shoulders were slumped, but still she walked with purpose. She hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that, because every night you stood outside her room to stand guard, you saw the light slip underneath her door and heard shuffling inside the room.

You open the big wooden doors that lead to her quarters, so she can step inside. You follow right behind her, lighting some candles to light up her room a bit. Before you announce your departure to the queen, now standing facing the balcony, you decide to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Your Grace?”, you ask softly. She doesn't answer, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts, so you try again.

“Alicent?”

The use of her name instead of her title makes her wake from her thoughts. She turns around and looks at you. It takes your breath away every single time. You knew it wasn't right, she was your boss, the queen of the seven kingdoms, but you couldn’t help it. Every time you laid eyes on the Dowager queen, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

“Yes?” she responded curtly, though there was kindness in the way she spoke to you.

You decide to speak, all might it be out of line. “You should get some rest”

“Rest...” Alicent echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I wish I could, but duty does not pause for the queen's exhaustion." The weight of duty was immense, and the thought of rest seemed like a luxury she could not afford in times like these. Yet, the truth was that her body was beginning to buckle under the strain. Her husband, the king, was very ill, and his duties had become hers.

"But... I suppose you are right," she added, acknowledging the wisdom in her guard's words. "I cannot lead if I am weakened."

“Ill draw a bath for you, your grace” you propose. It was so late when the two of you came back from the council that her handmaidens had already retreated back to their homes.

“Alright,” Alicent answered quietly, a hint of relief creeping into her voice, “Thank you.”

Without another word, you remove the heavy layers of your armor to be able to help her out. Making your way to the bronze tub in the corner of the room, you start by heating up the water. Filling the water with oils, the sweet fumes of which filling the room with a relaxing smell.

"I... I will need some help removing my dress." Alicent spoke up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but her words were tinged with an underlying fatigue.

“Of course, your grace”, you say, as you try not to think about the proximity in which you will be to the queen. The two of you have been close before, of course, you were her sworn sword, her protector. But never like this. Never just the two of you, confined in her bedchambers, nonetheless.

Alicent nodded her appreciation, thankful that she would not have to struggle alone with the intricate laces and ribbons of her dress. As she stood by the tub, the scent of rose oil wafted through the air, a soft fragrance to soothe her stress.

“I do not wish to burden you with my... personal matters." Despite trying to keep her composure as queen, at that moment Alicent felt a sense of vulnerability, as if the queen’s facade of regal authority had slipped away.

“You do not burden me, your grace”, you say softly. “I'm happy to help.”

“Can I?”, you ask her softly for permission to start untying the laces of her intricate green dress. It was absolutely breathtaking. A deep dark green, decorated with lace and stones. It must have cost a fortune. The contrast of her green dress and the brown of her eyes, that shimmered in the light of the candles around the room and made it look like flowing honey, made your head feel foggy.

Alicent nodded, “Yes, you may,” she replied politely. It was almost a whisper. She was slightly taken aback by your question. It seemed so simple, but to the queen it wasn’t. Her body was never hers, she had never been asked to be touched before, and your simple question of permission made her heart warm. The two of you always had this sort of tension. The air feeling thicker when you got close. You spend a lot of time together, since you were her personal guard, but somewhere along the way you created a special bond. The two of you didn't speak a lot, but Alicent knew you were loyal to her family, but mostly to her, and always stood by her, no matter what. You made the Queen feel things she hadn’t felt since Rhaenyra and her were young.

As you approached, Alicent presented her back to you, the laces of her emerald green gown flowing down her waist like intricate strands of thread. The Queen's breath hitched slightly as her guard gently removed the complex knots, the feeling of your strong hands touching her being strangely soothing to her.

And as you worked on undoing the laces, Alicent's breath grew softer as the tension from her dress lessened. The queen's back was bared for you to see, you gulped when you saw the smooth skin of her back being presented to you. The room being filled by the smell of rose petals and the steam from the bath, representing the growing tension between the two of you.

Your fingertips brush slightly against the queen's back as you remove the last of the laces. Taking a step back, you allow Alicent her space to undress further.

Alicent gracefully let her dress fall down, pooling on the stone floor like cascading waves. The queen's pale skin contrasted against the deep emerald-colored fabric, and as she stood in her smallclothes, the queen felt a strange sense of vulnerability. 

She could feel her guard's gaze upon her back, but there was something strangely comforting by the presence of someone who didn't seek to take advantage of her body or her power, but simply to serve and protect.

Letting out a quick cough, you turn around with your cheeks reddening, so she can rid herself of the last layer and get into the bath.

With her guard's eyes turned away, Alicent slipped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the awaiting bathtub. The warm water enveloped her body, and some of the day's exhaustion melted away in its embrace. As she settled into the bath, the queen sighed softly, relishing in the feeling of clean, warm water against her skin.

The moment you turn back around, your breath hitches. Although the cloudy water hides most of her body, you have never seen her like this, and your imagination runs wild about what hides beneath the rippling service of the water. You quickly shake your head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts about the queen.

“Ehm, ill leave you to it then, your grace”, you say as you try to look away from her naked figure. Once you pick up you armor and leave for the door, a soft voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait,” Alicent's voice interrupts you, “stay.” There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she speaks out to you.

You feel like you are in a dream right now. “Excuse me, your grace?”, you ask to make sure you heard the Queen correctly.

Alicent repeats her words, her voice tinged with a subtle plea. "Stay. Please... stay with me."

The queen's gaze remains fixed on you, and the vulnerability in her eyes is a sharp contrast to the regal composure that she so often wears around the castle. 

You drop your stuff to the floor, your gaze never leaving hers. “Where do you want me?”

She points to an antique stool next to the bathtub. “Just keep me company for a while.”

The queen's voice is laced with sincerity and a touch of exhaustion, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of tenderness and longing.

Without another word, you walk over to the stool next to the bath and take a seat, arm resting on the side of the tub. Alicent leans back against the bathtub, relishing the warmth and comfort it provides.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

As you sit in silence for a moment, you try not to let your eyes wander to her barely covered body. Alicent remains quiet, her gaze drifting to the surface of the water, which slightly shifts and ripples along with the movements of her body. The heat from the water and the rose-scented steam fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere. The queen's body is mostly hidden, and yet the gentle swell of her curves are visible through the water, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to her presence.

When you catch yourself looking at her body, you quickly look up, only to be met with her brown eyes already on yours. Alicent notices your gaze upon her, and a soft blush tints her cheeks. Neither of you look away, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickens.

“I'm sorry your grace, that was inappropriate”, you say as you go to stand up, but she grabs your sleeve as not to let you leave her side

"It's alright, please... stay." Alicent's voice is a tender whisper, and as she grasps the sleeve of your shirt, her touch is gentle but insistent. Her eyes hold a faint hint of vulnerability. Without breaking their eye contact, Alicent gently tugs on your sleeve, a silent plea for you to stay. Her touch makes your breath hitch, and you sit back down, not leaving her gaze

Alicent's eyes continue to hold yours with a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The heat of the water, the scent of the oils, and the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you create a sense of closeness that goes beyond mere companionship.

Alicent's hand remains gently resting on the edge of the tub, within your reach. So you decide to make the first move. “Tell me if you want me to stop, your grace”, you say, before letting your fingertips softly touch her hand, slowly dragging them up the length of her arm.

Alicent's heart skips a beat as she feels your touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. After a moment of excruciating silence, she finally whispers, "Keep going," in a low, enticing voice. The queen felt like her skin is set ablaze, and she leans into your touch ever so slightly.

When you suddenly stand up, Alicent wants to protest, but before she can speak up, you move the stool behind her and sit back down. Your hands make contact with her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the day. A soft sigh of contentment escapes Alicent's lips as she feels the firm yet gentle pressure of your hands on her shoulders and neck. The queen's body relaxes under your touch, the tension, and stress of the day melting away as you work out the knots and kinks in her muscles. Your touch is soothing, and the queen closes her eyes, savouring in the sensations.

As you keep massaging her body you move your head closer to her ear. "Would you like me to keep going your grace?" you speak in a hushed tone.

At your quiet whisper, a shiver runs down Alicent's spine, and her response comes in a low and breathless voice. "Yes," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Keep going...please.."

As your fingertips work their magic, the queen leans further back into your embrace, her body surrendering to the sensations you create. Sliding one of your hands over her shoulder, you move it towards the water. The queen's body responds to your ministrations, her chest rising and falling slightly as she lets out a soft gasp. The mixture of pleasure and excitement is undeniable as your fingers graze against her soft skin.

Alicent's breath hitches as your hands make contact with her breast, the sudden intimacy and sensation sending a jolt of desire through her body, towards her core. Her back arches slightly at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Just relax, Alicent." you speak up. "I've got you."

Your other hand mirrors the one on already on her breast and you begin to massage her chest, teasing her by sliding your hands across her nipples. When her breathing becomes more ragged, your movement become bolder. Playing with her nipples makes the Queen moan and mewl softly. You decide these sounds might be the holliest of things you have ever experienced. Kissing her neck, you can feel her pulse quicken. Never had Alicent felt such pleassure as she did now. Never had she been taken care of like this, being pleassured without being demanded something in return.

Alicent sits up more, exposing her chest to you. The top of her back that wasnt against the tub, now pressed against your front. One of your hands abandons her nipple and traverses lower under the water. When you reach her intimacy, the Queen holds in her breath. Cupping her pussy, you can feel how wet she is, even while she is submerged in the tub.

As Alicent turns her head back and to the side, you stare into her big doe eyes. Her mouth hangs open slightly as your palm slowely starts rubbing her clit. The Queen's soft sighs turn into moans and curses as the friction increases.

The hand that was still playing with her nipples, moved to her face, pulling her closer so you lips were mere inches apart. You press your lips to hers in a seering kiss, and at the same time you push a single diget inside of her. Alicent moans into the kiss, but returns it feverishly, her hand tugging at your shirt, pulling you closer. You have to try not to fall into the tub with her.

The moment you start pumping you finger inside of her, she loses it. God, if you knew the Queen of Westeros would be this loud in bed, you would have made the first move ages ago.

"Please, please, please, please..." she says over and over again, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Shhh, ive got you." you reply, adding a second finger into her, slowly picking up the pace with which you fucked her. Some of the water violently splashing over the tub by now.

You could practically hear the seams of your shirt ripping, with the force Alicent was clawing at you. Your tounge explored her mouth as your fingers kept working their magic underneath the water.

"I- Im gonna..."

"Cum for me, your Alicent" you interupt her.

And like clockwork, Alicent came undone all over your fingers. Her back arching out of the water, a loud moan of your name filling the empty space. And as you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, you litered her skin with kisses. Showing her your love and loyalty. Not to her family, but to her and only her.

She shuddered when you pulled your fingers out of her. Pulling them out of the water and straight into your mouth, cleaning your hand of her juices, moaning at the sweet taste. The Queen just stared at you with wide eyes.

"Thank you...for that." Alicent spoke first after she had regained her breath. A rosy tint spreading across her cheeks.

"It was my pleasure, your grace." you anwer with a slight smirk. "The water is getting cold, let me help you out."

Alicent stood up in the tub, slightly emberassed to show her body to you, even after the activities the two of you just did. She never found herself quite attractive, her body in particular. It was made to bare children, nothing more. Thats the thought she had grown up with. But now, standing naked in that tub, with you staring at her like she was the most beautifull woman that had ever set foot on the earth, she felt like she wasnt just a tool for men to use and abuse. She felt seen and loved.

You lifted her out of the tub like she weighed nothing and pulled a large towel around her naked frame. Rubbing you hands over her arms to help her dry off. You let her dry herself off fully as you go over to blow out most of the candles, letting just a few lit for when she sleeps.

Standing back infront of her, Alicent had now dressed herself in her nightgown. You push a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face, before kissing her one last time. For all you knew, this moment would be a once in a lifetime. Where the two of you would not speak of this ever, or you would wake up tomorrow to guards dragging you infront of a dragon to be its breakfast for what you just did to the Queen of Westeros. The kiss was short, but her lips felt heavenly on your own.

Alicent leans into the kiss. She felt like a teenager again. Deep down she knew this was wrong, but right now she had never felt this good.

"You should get some sleep" you say. "its late and you have a long day tomorrow."

"You are right" she says before kissing your cheek and climbing into bed.

"You can't stay, can you?" she asks. She knows the answer, but still sounds hopefull.

"I can't, but i will be right outside your door." you answer as you put your armor back on to stand guard at the Queens door all night.

As you go to leave, she stops you one last time.

"y/n?"

You turn around and see her all cozy in her bed. "Yes?"

"Thank you" she says in the most sincere way possible.

"Anytime." you answer, before leaving her room and closing the door behind you. You didnt know what would happen between the two of you now, but you meant it. You would be there for her, always, no matter what. You had told her many times but after tonight, Alicent might truly believed that.

[mellifera38]

Bruh. As much as we talk about how funny and wacko the early era of tumblr was with its mishapocalypses and so on and so forth, I like tumblr a LOT more now. Like, if you were ace, you did NOT wanna look in the asexuality tag back then like holy fuck. It was a hostile battleground in there every day. The idea of being "aphobic" was in and of itself a joke. It was a perfectly valid stance on here. People would straight up make fake ace blogs just to say super cringy shit so ppl could screenshot and use it for an example of our attitudes and behavior. It was so fucking exhausting to be on here sometimes. Every day I had to block blogs I had followed for ages and legitimately liked and I remember being so upset All The Time like bitch I'm just existing here what the fuck man. Eventually I just kinda backed my ass right back into the closet and blacklisted any and all ace content. Just said fuck it I can't look at this shit anymore I'm done i dont even care what I am.

I glanced in the ace tag today bc it's ace day and was so relieved. Like I know it probably hasn't been bad like it was for awhile now but I'm still just like always expecting the worst from the internet. I still subconsciously stay removed from my own identity most of the time and take pains not to bring it up unless I'm with my close friends, and even then not very often. I still cautiously hesitate to say I'm part of the queer community even tho most people it seems are on board with the A in LGBTQIA being for Aspec. It could just be that with the tiddy ban most of the remaining perpetrators left or something but either way I'm really glad this place has become legitimately ace-positive. I wouldn't have believed it possible back then there was SO much vitriol aimed at us. Even if this site is actually just an echo chamber of aces shouting positivity at each other today, I'll still enjoy it. They didn't really let us do that back then. They invaded every tag we tried to make for ourselves. So happy Ace Day. Don't forget to appreciate every positive post that shows up on your dash.

[cheerfullycatholic]

Anyone else so tired of arguing about abortion? Like, I'm still just as on fire about it being banned completely and replaced with competent doctors who care about both of their patients and offering real life saving help, but the arguments are the worst

From my point of view, there's four kinds of arguments

1. The person values human life but doesn't believe that life begins at conception. You show them how it does, and they go on their way rethinking their position (very rare)

2. The person says some awfully dehumanizing, false thing about preborn babies, you ask them to explain it, and they get angry until someone gets blocked. Example;

"fetuses are parasites"

"how?"

"are you dumb? Look it up"

"you seem to know, I want your explanation"

"fuck you"

These people may or may not value human life outside of the womb, but they're so caught up in being defensive that they're not willing to listen to anything except the echo chamber they've been stuck in (Most common argument I get into and see)

3. The person is understandably concerned about abortion exceptions for high risk pregnancies. I don't mind these arguments, but these people tend to not listen when I tell them there are already life affirming solutions for both patients (second most common argument I get into)

4. The person blatantly doesn't value any human life but their own and will straight up say, proudly, "I know the fetus is a living human being, I will kill them anyway". This is the one I'm most concerned about because the only thing to argue is the value of human beings and that can't be argued. You can't force someone to not be selfish and value someone else's life, that's something they have to choose on their own, and we, people they hate, cannot help them (this one is becoming more common and it's concerning)

It's exhausting. Have any of you been in different kinds of arguments?

[hyperactively-me]

Gurlll. What if another big royal comes up to ghost and says basically ‘how much for ur queen’ … basically wanting to buy her off of ghost ? And he says she’s not for sale but he says “everything has a price”. Maybe he’s been stalking her and tells ghost that he knows her schedule and what she likes.

After that graves chapter I need more DRAMA and more borderline feral and protective ghost

oomph the dramaaa (also don’t mind me making up random ass characters and random ass places for this hahahaahaha)

warnings: time-period typical misogyny, stalking, man being a creep, physical violence

A new trade deal was being signed today, and a big one at that. You had been informed that an entourage of court members from a neighboring kingdom would be staying in Kastron during the duration of the final deal talks and signage. 

The arrival of King Valerian of Malcenite and his high-ranking entourage had been a spectacle you had greeted with the utmost politeness and grace. Simon had stressed the importance of the trade deal for Kastron, and you had been on your best behavior throughout their stay, despite a nagging sense that something was amiss. The trade deal was signed multiple days ago, much to everyone’s relief. Yet, for some odd reason, they’ve shown no signs of packing up to leave, even after already being in Kastron for over a week. 

“It’s been a week, and the trade deal has already been signed, what more do they want from us?” you whisper to Simon with a furrowed brow. “Their presence is starting to become…overbearing.”

He nods in agreement. Simon’s eyes reflect the same unease that gripped you. “I know, love. It’s rather odd…They’ve never given me reason to doubt them.”

“We should find out what Valerian wants, Si. I mean, it’s really bothering me—” 

Simon placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, interrupting your words. “You should get some rest. Let me deal with Valerian, dove.”

Your heart ached with concern, but you knew Simon was right. The weight of your responsibilities of the week had taken its toll, and you were exhausted. 

“Please,” he urges you.

With a reluctant nod, you allow him to take charge of the situation.

“Fine…but let me know if you need me for moral support. You know how I can get during arguments,” you say playfully, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

“I know all too well, love.” 

As you retreat to your chambers, the unease that had settled over the palace refused to dissipate. As you slipped into bed, thoughts of King Valerian’s ominous intentions gnawed at your mind, but you trusted in Simon's abilities to handle the matter.

As Simon shut the doors to your chambers, he signaled for two guards to stand watch at the door. With that, he moved swiftly to find King Valerian.

. . .

Ghost had found Valerian out in the gardens. The moonless sky felt oppressive, the air thick with tension. 

King Ghost faced King Valerian with an air of authority that matched his regal presence. Valerian's calculating eyes bore into Simon's, their unspoken conflict echoing within the stone walls. He wore a cloak of arrogance, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence. 

“King Valerian,” Ghost began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of authority, "we appreciate your visit and the successful trade agreement we've reached. However, I must ask about the purpose of your extended stay in Kastron.”

Valerian's lips curled into a sly smile, his fingers grazing over a bush of flowers. Your favorite flowers. “Your concern is touching, King Ghost. I assure you, my presence is simply a desire to further strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms.”

Simon's gaze remained unwavering, his suspicion growing by the second. “Forgive me, but your continued stay has raised questions among my advisors and my wife. We find it unusual.”

Valerian leaned forward, picking a flower from the bush, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “Very well, King Ghost, I shall be forthright with you. The trade deal, as successful as it was, was not the only reason for my visit. There is something else I desire from Kastron.”

Simon's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin. “And what might that be?”

Valerian's eyes glittered with a dangerous intent. “Your queen. I have watched her closely during my time here, and I have become enamored with her grace and beauty. Not to mention her fiery personality. It’s not quite fit for a woman, but I can always fix that. I believe she deserves better, far beyond what you can offer.”

Simon feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Excuse me?” he replied with icy resolve, no longer worried about offending Valerian. 

Valerian chuckles darkly, bringing the flower up to his nose. “The queen. How much for her?”  

Simon's fingers curled into fists at his side, his voice firm and resolute. “My wife is not a thing. She is not for sale. How fucking dare you.”

Simon's chest heaved with the effort of restraining his fury, and his clenched fists trembled with the pent-up anger he held within. He approaches Valerian angrily, sizing him up with a deathly glare.

Valerian's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “Everything has a price, even loyalty.”

“I know her schedule, her preferences,” Valerian continues, emphasizing the flower in his hand. Your favorite. “I've followed her every move. All you need to do is name your price.”

In a flash, Simon unleashed his anger in a single, powerful blow. With a swift and precise motion, he delivered a sucker punch straight to Valerian's face. The blow sent the arrogant man stumbling backward, crashing into the nearby garden wall.

“Get the fuck out of my home. Deal is off. Never fuckin’ show your face here again, disgusting bastard.” 

Valerian, nursing his bruised face, was forcibly escorted back into the palace by Ghost. 

“You know I can do much, much, worse than a single punch. Don’t fuckin’ cross me. Don’t fuckin’ come near my wife and I ever again.”

Ghost showed no mercy, manhandling Valerian in front of the palace guards, who looked on with a mix of shock and confusion. 

Simon shoves Valerian forward harshly into the hands of a couple of guards.

“Take this bastard out of my sight. I want him gone. Now. He’s unwelcome in Kastron.”

. . . 

Inside the palace, Valerian's actions had been made known. Rumors always spread like wildfires throughout the palace staff, and none were willing to lift a finger to help him pack. Simon had made it clear that Valerian was not to set foot in the palace again, and the guards at the gate had orders to keep him out at all costs.

“I do not want the queen to find out about this blatant disrespect from palace rumors. Go about your work.” 

. . .

Simon’s fury began to subside, replaced by a deep concern for you. He knew he needed to speak with you about the incident before the palace gossip reached your ears. 

Simon quickly made his way to your shared private chambers, where you were engrossed in some needlepoint. Knocking softly on the door, he entered to find you hunched over in your sitting chair, your brow furrowed in concentration. You had recently taken an interest in learning needlepoint, taking time to practice simple designs in your spare time. You look up for a moment, but go back to focusing on your work. You do a double take when you notice the worry in his expression. 

“What’s wrong?” you inquire, your voice gentle but tinged with concern. 

Simon sighed deeply and closed the door behind him, anger still coursing through him. “I…I have some…unsettling news, darling.” 

You immediately perk up, setting your needlepoint aside, focusing your attention on Simon.

“Go on,” you say, worry building up in your chest. 

As he recounted his encounter with Valerian, your expression shifted from curiosity to a mix of pure anger and disbelief. You stood up with a start, face pinched with hostility. You grab Simon’s dominant hand, the one he had punched Valerian with, and inspected his knuckles. Bruised. You drop his hand and look at him. 

“How dare he,” your voice trembles with indignation, your eyes blazing with determination. 

Your fingers clenched into fists, mirroring the wrath that had overtaken you. “I will not tolerate this impertinence,” you declare, your voice resolute. “To think that he would even entertain the notion of buying me like, like some piece of property. He will fucking rue the day he ever uttered those words.”

And with that, you swiftly make your way towards the double doors, throwing the doors open with a resounding slam. 

Simon watched in silence as you threw the doors open. Who was he to stop his angry wife? No, he would see this out. He knew that you were not one to be trifled with, especially when it came to matters of respect and dignity.

The palace corridors echoed your footsteps as you strode with purpose, and Simon hurried to catch up to you. He also was not about to let you be alone with Valerian. 

“Darling—”

You didn’t pause or slow down as Simon called after you. Your determination to confront Valerian had taken hold of you, and you were not about to let this insult go unanswered. Simon quickly follows behind you, slightly nervous to see how this would pan out. 

You turn to a palace guard standing alongside a wall. “Where is he?”

“Th– the parlor room, your majesty, he’s about to leave—” 

In a flash, you change directions, marching towards the parlor room where Valerian was currently being kept under guard. As you approached the doors to the parlor room, you could hear the hushed whispers and see the curious glances of the palace attendants. Two guards stood in front of the doors.

“Step aside, please,” you command, hands coming to rest on your hips. 

The guards look at you for a moment, then at Simon standing behind you menacingly. 

“Your majesty, he is dangerous—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

They look at you, then step aside, pushing the door open for you. You practically stomp inside the room, anger rolling off you in waves. Valerian, who had been sitting alone in a corner, looked up with a mixture of surprise and unease as you entered the room. The air grew tense with anticipation as you faced him, your eyes flashing with anger.

“You!” you declared, your voice carrying the weight of authority. “How dare you insult us?”

Simon raises his eyebrows at your forwardness, but chooses to stay silent, crossing his arms over his chest. Valerian eyes Simon wearily before facing you. Despite being confronted by your fury, he couldn't resist the urge to maintain his arrogance. He rose from his seat slowly, deliberately. You don’t back away. 

“Insult you?” he retorted. “Oh, my dear queen, it was merely a business proposition. I thought perhaps you might appreciate the opportunity to upgrade from this provincial life.”

Simon immediately takes a few steps forward, anger seeping back into his bones. He couldn’t bear to see him speak to you in such a way. But, ever steadfast, you persevere. Your fists clenched at his ignorance, and your anger surged anew. Simon watched with growing amusement, knowing that Valerian's arrogance was pushing you to your limit.

“How deluded you must be,” Valerian continued, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “To think Ghost could satisfy your desires with his meager offerings.”

The room seemed to vibrate with tension as you struggled to contain your rage. Your eyes locked onto Valerian’s, and in a flash, you lashed out. Your fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying thud. Nowhere near close to Simon’s force, but it was yours. 

“Yeah, thought a weak woman such as myself wouldn’t retaliate?” 

Valerian's smirk vanished as he held his aching jaw, shock overtaking his features. The room fell into stunned silence, the guards wide-eyed at the unexpected turn of events. Simon suppressed a smirk, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for you, who had defended not only her own honor but also his own. Fuckin’ hell.

You march up to Valerian and grab his ear, yanking him down to your level. “My husband has been nothing but kind to me. Your suggestions of him being incompetent and a monster is far from the truth. He is one of the most loyal and honorable people I know. You’ll never be a third of the man Simon is. And I'm not a piece of meat for you to enjoy, you sick freak.” You let go of his ear. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my husband.” 

And with that, you turn out of the room. Simon stands there, gives Valerian a once over, then turns out of the room in silence. 

Simon turns to a couple of guards. “It’s time for him to leave. Remove him from Kastron.” 

With a bow, the guards turn to forcibly escort Valerian out of Kastron, forever. 

As Simon turned, he caught a glimpse of your gown turn the corner back to your chambers. He follows behind you once more, practically running to catch up to you. 

“Darling, slow down–” he calls out, and you stop in your tracks, turning to face him. “He’s gone now—” 

You stand there, your chest heaving as you fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. The adrenaline from your confrontation still courses through your veins. It was a distressing experience, but you know you did what was necessary to protect your honor and your marriage.

Simon reaches you, his concern deepening as he takes in your flushed face and labored breathing. He gently places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with worry. “Dove, are you all right? That was a brave thing you did back there…”

Your lower lip quivers for a brief moment, and you summon every ounce of your strength to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Crying in front of Simon is something you've never done before, and you're uncertain about how he would respond.

Simon notices the struggle within you, his eyes fill with empathy. He gently reaches out, his fingers softly brushing away a stray tear that escapes down your cheek. His touch is warm and reassuring, and he leans in to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I– I’m fine, just frustrated, is all…I couldn’t stand by and let him insult us.” 

Simon’s expression softens as you move to hug him, pressing your wet cheeks into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort. “You're the strongest person I know,” he murmurs into your ear. “I'm so proud to have you as my wife.”

You hold onto Simon tightly, taking comfort in his strength. “I love you,” you whisper, feeling a sense of security in his arms.

. . .

Simon held you close that night, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you both lay in the comfort of your bed. The events of the day had taken an emotional toll on you, and you found solace in his warm embrace.

Pressed against his chest, your head rested on his shoulder, and his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. In the silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of bedsheets and soft breathing, you felt the weight of the world slowly lifting off your shoulders. The words you'd spoken to Valerian, the confrontation, and the emotional release afterward—all of it seemed like a distant memory now.

Simon’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoed in your ear, lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Wrapped in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a partner who would always stand by your side.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 24

Summary: Y/N’s struggling to accept what her future brings and Paul shares a possible solution with her.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Very few things in life are precious to Y/N. Her father and Paul are at the top of the list, her friends share the 2nd place, and the necklace her mother bought her for her 10th birthday is a close third. She’s never valued material things over the heart, placing her valuables in each chamber it possesses, leaving one open for the children she planned on having with Paul in time. 

Time…another thing she took for granted, a valuable she never truly took into consideration. When you’re young, you believe time comes in abundance. It fools one to waste it, to wait for things to happen instead of taking that leap off the cliff with the hope that the landing will be painless. 

All the time she thought she had is now slipping through her fingers like sand. They could have lived a thousand more precious moments together, and started a family…all of it is gone now, replaced by the paralyzing fear of leaving her loved ones in despair once destiny claims her. 

Paul can promise he and the pack will protect her, but in reality, time waits for no one, and destiny listens to no man – not even a shapeshifting one.

Y/N didn’t want to worry him further, trying to appear strong for his well-being as days pass, but once the bathroom door closes and she steps into the shower, there is no need to pretend. She’s been holding back tears since their talk at the beach, showing a brave front for Paul’s sake, but she can’t stop the tears from flowing anymore.

As the water cascades down her trembling body, Y/N leans against the wall of the shower. Sliding to the tiled floor, she buries her face in her hands as sobs wrack her body. The tears come hard and fast, mixing with the water as they meet their end on the palms of her hands. Clasping a hand over her mouth, she tries to muffle her cries, not wanting Paul to hear, but the sound of her sobs echoes off the tiles. She can only hope the sound of her breaking is drowned out by the steady stream of water.

Slowly, the warm water becomes colder and she realizes she’s been gone for too long. Even if he hadn’t heard her cry, he’d wondered why she was not out of the shower yet. The tears have stopped, replaced by dry heaving and a sense of exhaustion. She draws a deep breath, attempting to steady herself but it doesn’t help. Her arms are wrapped around her pulled-up knees, head resting back on the wall. Looking up, she holds her breath instead. Deep breaths never helped her panic attacks in the past, but holding her breath would clear her mind enough to find a focus, something to anchor her. 

Watching the water falling on her shaking body, feeling the coldness of each drop, allowing it to ground her. The weight of the world sits heavy on her shoulders as she forces herself to stand. First, she sat forward on her knees, the icy cold water hitting her back causes her to hiss but it also brings clarity. It’s as if she’s sobering up, her senses returning to her full force all at once. Closing her eyes, she holds her breath once more. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Gasping for breath, she grabs onto the shower door, forcing it open. Pulling herself up by the handles, she grimaces when the door creaks as if it will break. She can’t stand on her own otherwise, her legs are numb from the cold water, and calling Paul for help would be worse than a broken shower door. If he sees her like this, it will break whatever’s left of his sanity.

One step at a time, she tells herself. It’s going to be fine. 

Moving to the sink, she glances at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red and puffy, giving away all she wishes to hide. With quivering lips and chattering teeth, she wraps a towel around herself. Swallowing thickly, she catches a glimpse of her engagement ring in the mirror. Looking down at it, she lets out a shuddered breath. The world won’t end if she dies, it’ll keep on spinning with or without her, but it will end for Paul. 

The pack didn’t hurt Reneesme because Jacob imprinted, because killing her meant killing him.

Will her death kill Paul? 

It’s the last thing she’d want. He had a life before her, he deserves to have a life after her too. He could still find another to have the family they dreamed of. There’s no reason for him to perish with her. It would be a worse tragedy to rob the world of a soul as beautiful as Paul’s. 

Snorting, her lips spread in a grin. Once upon a time, she was so scared of the way she felt about Paul that she convinced herself he was the worst person on the face of the earth, that she cannot stand his existence, yet she can’t imagine this world without Paul. She’d gladly follow death wherever it wants to take her, as long as Paul is given a full, happy life. 

Paul hesitates before knocking on the bathroom door. He’s been sitting in front of it for nearly an hour, painfully aware of every sob that passed through her lips. She clearly didn’t want to worry him, as if she forgot he feels all her emotions too. Despite his heart aching, longing to hold her, he’ll indulge her wish to keep her sorrow hidden. He doesn’t want to intrude, choosing to stay close by in case she seeks him for comfort.

“Are you okay?” he calls out softly, knocking on the door. He heard when the water stopped running, assuming she’d be out soon, but it’s concerning how long it’s been since then. “You didn’t fall or pass out in there, did you?” Paul jokes.

Silence from the other side of the door is haunting as he leans his forehead on the door. Biting his lower lip, Paul sighs. He knocks on the door again, this time a little louder. “Please open up. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Pausing for a moment, he frowns. If they were a normal couple, perhaps he’d wait longer or he’d insist more, but they’re not. Their time is counting down to 0 a little faster and he can’t bury his head in the sand and ignore it anymore. He knows there’s no time to waste.

Slowly, he opens the door, finding Y/N leaning on the sink, her back turned to the mirror, her eyes trained on her ring. 

Without saying a word, Paul crosses the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace, he bites his tongue as the coldness of her skin reminds him of the coldness he feels when he holds her dead body in nightmares.

“I’m so sorry”, Paul whispers, his voice soothing. “I wish I never told you.”

Pulling back, she shakes her head. “I wish you told me sooner”, she says softly, her voice shaky. 

“What good would it do?” Paul raises his brows. “I know you think we could have gotten married and had kids by now, but I don’t agree.”

“You don’t?”

“No, because I knew all this time. Since the start, I’ve known and the last thing I’d want is to bring kids into this situation.” Cupping her cheek, his lips press in a thin line. “I’d love for us to have that, I would, but having kids knowing they’ll be orphaned would be cruel.”

“Stop saying that”; she says through gritted teeth. “You won’t be dying with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you”; she reminds him. “It’s all a guess based on no tangible proof.”

“Being away from you is hell when you’re working on calls at work. If that’s hard, I can’t imagine you dying will make me want to live.”

Closing her eyes, she exhales loudly. “That’s exactly what I’d want. I want you to live, to keep going, to fall in love, to find happiness.” Pushing at his shoulders, she huffs. “Why are you so eager to follow me into the dark?”

“Because I’d rather be in the dark with you, than alone in the light.”

Their eyes meet, a meaningful silence filling the air. They’ve been together for years now, long enough for the love between them to grow stronger, almost palpable. It is more than just an imprint bond, it’s always been more when it comes to Paul and Y/N. Even before, Paul yearned for her like a heart yearns for a beat and whether she likes to admit it or not, she needed Paul in her life like she needs oxygen to breathe. She never felt complete before letting the love she bears for him fully settle in her chest.

“I love you”, he says, his eyes never leaving hers. “There’s no world in which I’d ever fall in love with anyone else. I’ve loved you since before I knew what love is, I’ve loved you when you hated me, I’ve loved you when I hated me”, he smiles gently. “It’s always been you and no one else. I don’t think my heart’s made to love anyone but you. Whether I am forced to bear this existence without you or not doesn’t change anything. You are my source of happiness, of love, of life.”

Their eyes remain locked together, a sense of sadness and inevitability washing over them. All they can do is promise they’ll love each other fully and completely until the very end, cherish every single moment, and ignore the weight of their fate. Even beyond this lifetime, their love will last, they’ll be soulmates even in death.

“What are we going to do”, she sniffles. “If it were just me, I’d accept it. I would. But I don’t want you to die too. There has to be a way to stop this.”

And Paul knows there is…one way. He’s considered it before, though no one in the pack would agree. But, if all else fails, there’s something despicable he could resort to, but he can’t be sure what that would do.

“Maybe there is”, Paul frowns. “Do you what I told you about the Cullens?”

“You want her to be one of them”, Jacob growls out, interrupting the intimate moment. 

Standing in front of Y/N, Paul sets his glare on Jacob. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“I did”, Jacob narrows his eyes. “No one opened the door and I could hear you are home.”

“And that didn’t make you reconsider breaking in?”

“Can you stop”, Y/N’s voice is shaky, fragile. She’s using Paul as a shield, pulling at the towel tightly to cover herself. 

“He wants you to become a vampire”, Jacob raises his voice. “If there’s something worth fighting about, your humanity is certainly at the top of that list!”

“Leave”, Y/N insists. “I’m naked and cold and I need a damn minute with my fiancé, so please check on the pack first and we’ll talk later.”

With a snort, Jacob nods. Doing as Y/N requested, Jacob left Paul and Y/N alone. 

Passing by Paul, Y/N grabs a robe. Heading to the bed, she sits on her side, her eyes trained on an approaching Paul.

“Is that what you wanted to suggest?”

Nodding faintly, Paul sniffles. “Even if I failed, that could be a solid alternative.”

“You’d want me to turn into what you hunt?” Y/N grimaces. “You can’t stand the smell of vampires and I’m supposed to believe that will work fine for us?”

Swallowing thickly, Paul sits beside her. “Jacob doesn’t mind Reneesme’s smell.”

“Because he imprinted on her in that state. Our bond might never recover if I turn into a vampire. I might be nauseated by your smell or I might never be able to control my thirst enough to be there for my dad, for Embry or Quill. I’d have to leave La Push forever.”

“I’d leave with you.”

“And what about our plans to have kids? I’d never be able to give you any!”

“I don’t need kids, I need you,” Paul interjects, taking her hand in his. “That’s all I care about.”

“You say that now, but who knows how you’ll feel in the future. And how long can you even live? I know you can slow down aging, but for how long? I don’t want to live for an eternity without you!”

“Y/N”, he tries but she shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be a vampire. If I am to die, I will die as a human as I lived. Immortality doesn’t appeal to me. It’s a complication with too many variables we cannot predict and the last thing I’d ever want is to risk what we have. I don’t want to taint us or your memory of me.”

“It won’t ruin us”, Paul says quietly.

“You can’t promise me that and I don’t”, she pauses, her heart bleeding at the sight of Paul’s devastation by her response. But she can’t help but think that his idea would be their end. If she must die, at least she’ll have him in her heart and not thirst for blood and he will be her last thought, not desire to kill.

“I don’t want to be one of them. Ever.”

_______________________

Tags: @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @llovergirlll @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @ireadthensuetheauthors @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @jdbxws @konigslilslut @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @convolutings @rachelccollier @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling @luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @turningtoclown @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows​ @marvelmenarebeautiful @bringmethe-world @alitaar @sugasthreedollarkookie @chloe-skywalker @heyheyheyggg @feral-ratatattat-king @queereddie @fandomrulesall-blog @queenotaku27 @dcgoddess @lilac-crown @small-town-wayward-daughter @yourqueentp @boreddemigodd @dracoswifeandlokispet @felinegrate @savagejane1 @lunajay33 @gtfoana @hpboysslut2707 @tpwk-harry-styles @amberpanda99 @rebeccao03 

PART 25

[fan-goddess]

it ain't a chance that I am letting this chance go, so if I may... for kinktober, may I ask for alicent hightower x religious? because the religious guilt is hitting me fully ugh.

thank you and have a lovely day!

Authors Note: I myself am not religious, so I may get certain aspects of it wrong. If I do and I offend you, please send me an ask or dm me directly if you’re not comfortable saying so in the comments.

Am I entirely happy? No. Does this have less smut than I would like for a kinktober post? Yes. But I just hope I do my best as this’ll be my first Alicent fic so I hope I do my little angsty closeted lesbian justice

Warnings: Sex, religious guilt, very closeted alicent, reader is female,

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @sweettastemakerpenguin, @mochi-rose, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

Ever since you were a young girl, you were always taught in what was right and what was wrong. You were taught that a husband is the only thing you should look for in your life, and that as a woman, it was your responsibility to give him his heirs and to carry on his legacy.

Yet you were a mere girl of ten and three when you began to realise what it was that made you so different from the other ladies.

For years, you had never found yourself interested in the typical lady talk. What man looked most handsome or which knight looked the most dashing in their uniform. For years you wondered if there was something was wrong with you.

Then, you arrived at Kingslanding to work as a handmaiden for the princess, and met the eyes of Alicent Hightower.

She was beautiful, and kind, and showed you how to do the things the other women sneered at you for whenever you tried to ask for help. She became your best friend. But in your head, she became so much more than that.

At the age of ten and four, a mere year after you’d been employed as a maid, you’d begun to hear the gossip of the kitchen staff who talked about how one of the ladies who’d recently been married to some unknown lord, would need to fulfil her own pleasure and seek her own desires. The words had confused you when you first heard them, as all you had been taught about the act of pleasure is that only a man typically was able to achieve it.

Though that next day, when all your chores had been completed, the words of the kitchen staff still echoed around in your mind. They could not be shaken no matter how many topics you tried to distract yourself with. So you went to the library and sought out books that could hopefully satisfy your curiosity.

When you left a couple hours later, your face had turned a light shade of pink, and if the head septa could look inside your head at that moment, you knew she’d condemn you to the deepest depth of the seven hells if she could.

That night, you touched yourself and reached self fulfilment for the first time in your life. Only you didn’t reach it with the thought of any of the knights, nor with any lord. Instead, you only reached it thinking of Alicent Hightower.

Many years had passed since that night, and you’d recreated it many a times since then. Though much to your horror and delight, you’d become much closer to Alicent ever since her marriage to the king. The princess had casted her aside soon after the betrothal was announced, and you made sure you were there to help Alicent pick of the pieces of her broken heart.

There were many a nights when she would come to your chambers straight after the king would summon her to his own, and she’d cry in your arms from sadness and exhaustion.

Every time you would hold her and soothe her with whispers of affirmation and kindness, and by the looks of bashfulness she’d send you every time you did it, you could tell she did not hear them often.

It was one of those nights when Alicent had first kissed you. Her tears had already soaked through the thin and cheap fabric of your nightgown, and you distinctly remember using one of your sleeves to wipe at any that had dripped to her chin.

“There there Alicent it’s okay. I will always be there for you, no matter what, through thick and thin, I will always be by your side. I would never leave you.” You had murmured as you placed a stray hair behind her ear.

She looked at you with hooded eyes, and the next thing you knew you were tasting salt on your lips. Your hands had somehow already knew to delicately hold her head, whilst your lips however were much less knowledgable. They moved clumsily without any real rhythm against Alicents own, and when she pulled to look at you, a mix of apologises and prayers spilled from red swollen lips faster than you could comprehend.

“I-I am so sorry my lady! T-the seven deems though who lay with the same sex as sinners!” Alicent exclaims before she runs from the room, leaving you in shock and slight giddiness from how the events have ultimately played out.

It goes like that for months. You would never kiss Alicent, she only kissed you when the emotions were hitting her all at once. Still, even though she’s the one who always initiates it, the act always brings tears to her eyes and solemn prayers on her lips as she’s the first to stop it.

That night, after another summon to the kings chamber, Alicent walked into your own like clockwork. She embraced you with quiet tears in her eyes, as unlike the first times, her mind has finally become numb with how many times she’s been forced to endure it.

Her body has already provided the king with a son and his wife. Yet she knew she must prepare for another, as her father whispered into her hair whilst she held her screaming daughter, there must be a spare.

Your thumb instinctively went to Alicents face to wipe her eyes of tears, and this time, neither of you knew who began to kiss who.

You expected Alicent to draw away after a few minutes, yet she appeared to continue. Her hands stayed locked in a grip on your body and her lips stayed frantic in their search for your taste.

“Let me feel loved…” She murmured against your lips, so silent you barely heard her.

“Whatever you wish for my love…” You murmured back. It was the first time you called her that out loud. Yet she seemed to show no true reaction to your sudden endearment. Or maybe she wished to ignore it…

You gently direct Alicent to lay on the bed, and slowly bring yourself to lay by her thighs. When you pull the length of her dress up and your hands make it halfway up her soft inner thigh, your eyes make frantic movements to her face, yet when you eventually make eye contact, she merely nods her head and makes a small plea for more.

Your fingers explore her body cautiously, and as you pull down her underclothes, a slight gasp escapes from you before you could stop it. The queen of the seven kingdoms is revealed in-front of you, and when your fingers enter her slowly and you hear slight mewls of pleasure from above, your head begins to dizzy with it all.

One hand thrusts your fingers inside of her whilst the other holds down Alicents hips as she lifts them in her pursuit of this unfamiliar pleasure. Though you cannot help yourself in that moment from kissing the inner skin of her soft thighs as a way to let her know you were here for her.

When your head looks back up, you can see that her lips were trapped in the confinements of her teeth, looking as if they were drawing blood with how hard she bit down. Yet still, small noises escaped that made the area between your thighs ache for something more.

Your eyes flicker between the view of your soaking fingers to her eyes that have now shut tightly. Yet when you feel her clench tightly on your fingers as she presumably peaks, your hands retreat from her warmth, and your greeted with wet fingers you can’t find yourself able to stop from sucking on slightly, the slightly sweet yet also slightly tangy taste of her juices spreading on your tongue whilst you hum slightly in delight.

It’s sad that you can’t savour the moment. As one minute there is silence that consumes the two of you, and the next there is only the sound of frantic movements and rustles as Alicent quickly moves to kneel at the edge of the bed, her eyes clenched shut as her hands lock together in a prayer and her lips begin to repeat that all too familiar prayer you’ve heard so many times before.

You can only look to her in defeat, with exhausted tears building in your eyes, as she now looks to the ceiling and prays for forgiveness for her sins.

Yet you never ask her why she deemed your love such a sin, that she felt the need to indulge in it so much. Even if it seemed to be paining her so.

The reason you never ask you lover why she does this to herself, is because you loved her, and your mother always told you to never ever strike an arguement with the person you loved...

[wordsvomit101]

10. Hidden envy

(1 year after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of rage and disdain, Sebastián could only tackle Alexander to the ground, his fists becoming vessels for the tumultuous emotions he had repressed throughout his life. Each blow carried with it a cacophony of hatred, guilt, fear, and a twisted semblance of love, unleashed upon his older twin brother. Tears, unnoticed, traced jagged paths down his face, mingling with the sweat and blood that adorned his visage.

"Always by my side?! Pray, what knowledge do you possess?! How will it benefit us?! All this time, I've merely collected remnants left in your wake! Abandoned to the shadows despite my hopeless endeavors to rise to the zenith of your favor!"

His words, laced with bitterness, echoed in the dimly lit chamber as he dragged Alexander to his feet, forcefully propelling him across the room until he collided with a sturdy table. The impact shattered the once-sturdy surface, sending a cascade of porcelain and shattered wood to the floor. Violent and primal, reminiscent of a savage beast unleashed from the confines of civilization.

"Even if I dedicate nights and days to study until I collapse from exhaustion! Even if my ideas and solutions surpass yours! Even if I imbue every ounce of grace into my very being! Even if I train diligently each day in hopes of earning but a passing glance from them! Nothing come close to you!"

Each word, dripping with venom, served as a relentless push, propelling Alexander perilously closer to the edge of the balcony. Sebastián's mind danced with the image of the accusations that would undoubtedly follow - accusations of harming the future king, staining his reputation irreparably.

With a fervor bordering on madness, Sebastián tightened his grip on Alexander's throat, his gaze locked with his brother's steady, unwavering stare. The sickening thrill of dominance mingled with perverse satisfaction as he witnessed the great future king, revered by all, reduced to a vulnerable state before him. He relished the moment, reveling in the power he held over his superior, even as his own inner turmoil threatened to consume him.

"Ah, so you still possess the fortitude for mercy even in light of my treacherous act. I am sorely tempted to end you if you grant me this opportunity", Sebastián's voice, tinged with malice, carried a weight that threatened to crush them both. His fingers dug deeper into Alexander's flesh, a silent testament to the depths of his fury. Yet, despite the violence of his actions, Alexander remained steadfast, his gaze unyielding.

"Act swiftly - no, simply depose him - Cease your indecision - He is my counterpart - Indeed, the king has already granted me this chance-" Sebastián's thoughts faltered, the weight of his own words crashing down upon him with sudden clarity.

"..."

"...What a distasteful display of behavior on my part", he murmured, the bitter taste of remorse lingering on his tongue. In that moment of self-reflection, Sebastián glimpsed the twisted image that his parents, the king and queen, must see when they looked upon him - a monstrous aberration, unworthy of their love or acceptance.

His grip on Alexander's throat slackened, the intensity of his rage giving way to a quiet resignation.

"... I've grown weary of this foolishness", As he turned to leave, Sebastián found himself ensnared by the firm grasp of the silent figure behind him. He braced himself, steeling his resolve as he awaited his brother's inevitable reprimand, too exhausted to summon even a shred of defiance.

As Minhyeok scrolls the mouse, eager to read more of the story, he finds himself disappointed when it abruptly ends at that part.

"Hm? Is that all, Raon?" He shifts his gaze from the laptop to the girl sitting beside him, noticing her nervous demeanor as her hands fidget with uncertainty. She averts her gaze from his, hesitating before finally speaking up.

"Is... Is it okay?" Her question catches him off guard. After beta reading 40 chapters of her story before she uploaded it to the publishing website for original fiction over the past 3 months, he couldn't get used to her low standard for the quality of her work. He might not be an avid reader like his brother, but he recognizes good storytelling when he sees it.

"Honestly, it's great! Your character development is spot on. I felt like I knew each character personally, you know? Like, they were real people," he offers his thoughts sincerely, knowing a simple "it's good" wouldn't do justice to her efforts.

"And your worldbuilding in these last 5 chapters? It's detailed and vivid. I could imagine every architectural marvel and court intrigue of the kingdom. It felt like I was right there alongside the characters, exploring every corner of it," he continues, noticing Raon's demeanor brighten with each word he speaks. Her smile grows, and her posture straightens as she absorbs his praise.

"Well, I did spend a lot of time researching," she admits modestly, her confidence visibly boosted by his compliments.

"You've also shown remarkable improvement since the first chapters. The pacing and plot twists kept me thoroughly engaged, with subtle hints sprinkled throughout that make it worth a second read," he observes, knowing she's been paying closer attention in their English and social studies classes. He wonders if she'd be interested in exploring drama as an elective course.

"She's always had a knack for English and picking up foreign languages on her own, so she'd excel in any elective related to language arts," he thinks to himself. The real question is whether she'd want to further develop her skills.

"Let's table that discussion for another time. We have a story to discuss," he redirected his focus back to Raon's writing.

He looks at Raon again, who seems to be contemplating something, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen while he ponders. Yet, there's an unfamiliar tension in the air this time. Usually, her stare carries a solemn weight, but not today.

"Why did you stop there? Hitting a writing block?" He asks, noting the rarity of such an occurrence. Raon is usually brimming with ideas, whether she's typing away on her laptop or scribbling in her journals.

"...," Her silence is a bit disconcerting, especially with the absence of her usual smug expression. Instead, her face is etched with an unknown guilt. He's about to inquire further when she finally speaks up, her voice slow and hesitant.

"I... can't seem to think of how Alexander would deal with Sebastián."

Raon's fingers fiddle with the keyboard, her gaze distant.

"I want him to punish his brother for what he has done, for him to learn to hate Sebastián, but... all I can envision is him showing kindness towards his twin. I don't recognize my character anymore..."

Huh, Alexander, the noble and kind future king, the protagonist of her story. He finds himself relating more to the character than he realized. The man who's been taught to be generous and compassionate since childhood, blessed with talent and divine power bestowed upon him by the gods of his world. Yet, he's also both courageous and fearful in his opinions.

"He's brave for extending kindness to everyone, yet he's afraid of disappointing those around him, fearing he might become like his brother," he muses aloud, sensing there's more to it.

"I think it's will be love in the end," he adds, surprising Raon with his insight.

"That... is an interesting perspective," Raon responds, her confusion evident. How could someone still harbor love for a person who's caused them so much pain?

It's understandable in a way, but love isn't always logical, especially when it's for family.

"Even I wouldn't be able to cast away my love for my other half, who knows my worst and my best like the back of their hand for my whole life," he says softly, noticing the hitch in Raon's breath beside him.

It almost reminds him of the time he was envious of his older brother and despite causing all the messes for his sibling. Never once has his older brother grown to at least hate him for being an annoyance.

"Perhaps Alexander... could sees beyond just the hurt and betrayal. He sees the brother he grew up with, the one who shared his joys and sorrows. Despite all the bad, there's still... a glimmer of the boy he once knew within Sebastián. The chance for atonement”

"I... I guess I have yet to look at it that way", she looks like she doesn't enjoy the idea of it but she at least considered it. There is a silence between them as they muse in their thoughts.

"Not even I understand my love for you despite all that talk", he doesn't say it but instead says what his mom told him when he confided to her years ago.

"Love is complicated, isn't it? Eomma said it makes us flawed and hopeful all at once."

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Hello. I’ve been following you, unofficially, for a little bit (like a shadow I guess). I agree with a good number of your statements (and can agree to disagree with others). I had a few questions about some and wanted to ask them. 

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy? Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

What do you think of the BLM movement? 

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

What political ideology do you alight with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

And to end, one last random one: do do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

You have the right to keep your opinions under wraps. But honestly, I don’t see that being a concern for you, seeing how outspoken you are. Also, sorry for how much pure, unbridled hate you get for simply having opinions that are not [popular] with the mainstream. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that, and I just wanted to tell ya. :)

Have a good one! 

Wow, those are all good questions but this would be an insanely long post if I went into the detail each one deserves, so I'll try keep it short.

(SPOILER: I failed.)

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Yes to the first and particularly second letters, as the historical criminalization and brutal persecution of consensual homosexuality was always cruel and unjust, though lesbianism was and is comparatively excused and overlooked and rarely violently oppressed to anything like the same degree. The "Bi" and "Q" parts are largely superfluous, and the "T" part has no real reason to be in there at all, since gender dysphoria is a medical condition, not a sexuality.

As with the feminist movement, I think any substantial and just goals were achieved decades ago and I don't see any defensible reason for the perpetual hostility and relentless promotion of LGBTQRAMZ24JL%$🧸 propaganda in the 21st century: the last campaign I can remember holding any water was the push for recognition of gay marriage, and little before that for a long time: most gay activism today seems to come from a vengeful, privileged and protected position chiefly concerned with bullying others, like the monsters going all out to hound and destroy the Christian owners of a cake shop who politely declined to bake a gay wedding cake that went against their religious beliefs. The oppressed have become the oppressors, and it's very ugly to see. Celebration of other people's sexual activity should never be mandatory, and all the corporations hauling out their rainbow flags year after year are weird, preachy, tiresome and unwanted, so all these actions will inevitably lead to an exhaustion of goodwill and tolerance in the larger populace, which in the long run will not benefit gay people at all.

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

No, I don't consider myself so: when I first got red-pilled I hung out in some MRA spaces, because they were the only ones at the time discussing the things I was thinking about, but I haven't checked in on them in over 10 years. All political movements tend towards echo chambers and extremism, even when a good many of their positions are solid and their goals are just. I don't feel comfortable with any labels, so I just go my own way, do my own thing and think for myself, take each issue as it arises and try to locate and align myself with whatever truth can be found in it.

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

I'm not American, so I don't directly have a dog in the race, but the media misrepresentation and bias against Trump, along with the political persecution, has been so overwhelming, relentless, unprecedentedly blatant and unjust, that if I was American I would certainly vote for him, simply because those who are openly conspiring against him have been revealed over the past 6 years or so to be so much worse. And, unlike all the career politicians "on" "both" "sides" who do nothing but trot out pretty, hollow and meaningless untruths while serving military-industrial interests and the status quo, I think he really does represent some kind of necessary, urgent and beneficial change, so I hope he gets re-elected in 2024.

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy?

At least in the west, it's a silly and hysterical conspiracy theory that has little grounding in reality, essentially asserting that all human civilization is best explained as a conspiracy on behalf of all men to benefit all men through the oppression and exploitation of all women, but that somehow no men are aware of or in on. To believe such nonsense you have to have either never known, liked or talked to ANY man, or be insane. Or both.

Western civilization is the very opposite of what feminists claim, in that it has always given special provisions and protections to women that men have never had, and attempted to curb and punish the selfish and sociopathic tendencies of the minority of dangerous men. It's the carving out of some civility in the wild and brutal dog-rape-dog natural world, which has benefited women enormously, but is massively under attack from every left-wing movement today: the advent of things like the current gender ideology, largely started or supported by feminism, is now clearly and inarguably harming real women, and stripping away protections so many of them never even realized they had.

And teaching women to hate and avoid men, and to instead seek fulfillment only in selfishness and wage-slavery: this has just produced millions upon millions of miserable, lonely and entirely unfulfilled women. Feminism is cancer.

Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

It appears to me the modern Islamic world, which is probably the closest thing to what feminists would call an actual "patriarchy", does unjustly curtail women's freedoms and human rights, though that's better understood as springing from a perpetually warring desert culture's "round up the wagons" mindset and aim of overprotection of women, rather than as evidence of some innate universal male misogyny.

In the west, there are no institutionalized systems that favor men: all of them greatly and unjustly over-favor women. And now trans-women.

What do you think of the BLM movement?

A thoroughly corrupt and enormously destructive money-making scam.

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

I think there has historically been undeniable institutional bias against black people. I also think all human beings, black and white and everyone else, have in-group biases that cause them to distrust and fear those who they consider outsiders: who look, dress, think or believe differently to themselves. What in recent times we've come to, often inaccurately, label "racIST" behaviour is more helpfully seen as just an outcrop of our innate tribalism, which is both fortunately and unfortunately evolutionarily hardwired into us all, so I think on the large scale it's unproductive to approach such behaviour as simply a moral failing, labelling people "bad" or "good" and leaving it at that.

I really like it when I see black and white people getting along and genuinely liking each other, rather than just uncomfortably walking on eggshells trying to not upset the other, but I think that's something that either just happens or doesn't: it can't and shouldn't be engineered, mandated or forced in any way.

While prejudice against black people still undoubtably exists on an individual level, it has been completely and exhaustively stripped from all western institutions, and black people are now hugely over-represented in most areas of society, which, again, cannot help but lead to resentment in the rest of the populations of western countries, who are now being openly and gleefully discriminated against every day. This is so stupid, and needlessly provocative, and could have been avoided by just sticking with equal rights and opportunities for all citizens and not going further, but the simple fact is all the identity politics movements are incapable of stopping once they have realized their original goals. It's inevitable they overreach and become a negative force themselves. They never fail to behave this way.

What political ideology do you align with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

Genuinely none. As with religion, I think there are understandable reasons for all of the major ones to exist and speak to people, all representing genuine and necessary human concerns from many different and valid positions. I find things that speak to me in Socialism, Anarchism, Progressivism, Libertarianism, Conservatism, Nationalism, Liberalism and whatever else. But I don't feel any of them actually represent me in any way, except on a few narrow, specific, isolated issues, so I consider voting little more than weighing up and selecting the lesser of many evils, and don't find myself actively aligning with or enthusiastically supporting any of them.

And to end, one last random one: do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

I'm not sure if you've just misspelled "extrovert" or if you're specifically referring to the Jungian use of the term of "seeking fulfilment outside of the self". I guess it must be the latter.

Yes, I do think the western world, originally starting with, and spreading from, America, has become a hungry mouth that can never be filled or sated, and that consumerism is a hollow pipedream, destructive and corrosive in every part of human life. So many people today will unabashedly do anything for money, which they singlemindedly pursue simply to spend on things, which they falsely assume will bring them happiness. I've got family members whose entire daily lives seem to revolve around buying the next new thing: another toy, another holiday, another trip to another expensive restaurant - and they don't seem capable of stopping and enjoying or finding deep meaning or fulfillment in any of them.

True happiness is found only in the selflessness of love, in family, community, the pursuit of wisdom, truth and meaning, and helping others. Your funko pops collection will go in a landfill site when you die.

[eoinmcgonigal]

So I saw a post about tumblr wanting to try this 'communities' thing, and I just gotta vent/say my piece. (the tl;dr is 'fuck that shit')

1. I really hate the current trend of fracturing and fragmenting things down into little pieces so they can be categorised into boxes. That's not natural. (Also, discord pushing threads, which I already detest for 1) making me feel like I'm gonna hurl from the violently dissonant, ugly layout, 2) the severely narrow topic problem, and 3) how neurodiverse-hostile they are.)

Like, naturally conversations meander. If you're only allowed to discuss one topic, it's gonna be stifling. You WILL run out of things to say. Making another little box isn't going to fix it, it'll just add to the clutter

2. Quite importantly, honestly, just stop fucking changing shit. It's unnecessary

3. It's not going to be neurodiverse-friendly. As if fandom hasn't changed enough to become increasingly unfriendly to people who are just here to enjoy their hyperfixation and/or special interest. I don't need another thing to learn to navigate. I don't need another place with different rules to carefully traverse. Yes, I'm fandom old and salty. I'm AuDHD and a spoonie with about half a spoon to spend on a good day. I do not have the energy to do all this switching about and jumping from thing to thing. It's exhausting. I want everything where I can find it, and where I can be passionate without having to perform tasks like it's some customer service job, or job interview

4. FOMO shit is toxic. This whole 'be a part of the thing!' necessity if you want to 'engage' or see the conversations and 'content'. Why? I guess it's a social media model that drives engagement, but the stress of it is going to fuck people up. What if you don't have the time, energy, health, spoons, social skills, etc? I have no idea how much interacting will be expected with other people in the 'community' but I can see it becoming a twitter-like circlejerk, and if you're not one of the 'in' crowd doing your required interaction/reblogging/commenting then you might as well not exist to that fandom/group

5. From the description, it looks like these things will be ripe for drama, toxicity, clique shit, becoming echo chambers, etc. because 'semi public' means you gotta opt in/join in some way and whatever's said isn't visible to any old user

Like, who is going to create and mod these things? Who decides what the rules are? What if your fave is 'problematic', or your kink is 'gross' (if nsfw is allowed at all), your take doesn't fit with fanon, or you are just a bit weird and people shun or turn on you for that?

I hope I'm wrong and either these things never happen or they're not as bad as I fear, but fuck sakes I have the above worries because it's shit I've seen happen time and time again, and I don't want to see given a place here

Also, genuinely, what the fuck is tumblr going to be like if you can't/don't want interact with these community things?

Quickly, 6. it creates an 'us' (in crowd) vs. 'them' (not part of our gang)

And then 7. who is going to be dominant in these 'communities'?

Yes, I'm upset right now, because tumblr was just fine (well, fine enough) until this point. I mean:

We have the ability to make sideblogs! (My Star Wars sideblog from... well a decade ago oops... is still out there, I don't touch it any more but I left it up for people to go through). Tumblr even made it so we can reply with sideblogs, which was a very neat update.

Tags!! I don't think it's as usual these days for people to go through tags to find new content, but that's how I do it, how I've always done it, and how I always intend to do it. I'm not following everyone who makes an SAS:RH post. I love you guys, but no. My dash would cause me to have a panic attack. It's already too much for me most days.

EFFORT!!!! I can be here every day full-time doing Stuff if I want! Or I can zone out for weeks if I want/need, materialise and contribute a silly meme, then drift off into the sunset again. If I 'miss' anything, I can go back through the tags, or scroll someone's blog. But honestly, who notices/cares on here if someone lurks or goes afk for a bit. It's super low pressure, because I'm doing what I can/want when I can/want

I want to opt in/out on my own time and terms. The thought of having to be part of a 'community' so I can see/not miss Content TM is freaking me out. I don't want there to be an 'appropriate' time window to interact with things like there is on other social media sites.

So, idk how the shit will look, but I don't agree with making things harder for people to access/find. I won't be posting stuff 'semi-privately'.

And you know what's super upsetting? The thought that I won't be able to see conversations and creations for things I love, because they're hidden away behind some complex new social thing I can't navigate. (Which is already an off-putting, ostracising problem on discord.) That's not how fandom communities should be.

The thought of there being less stuff 'out there' because it's in some 'community' somewhere... really not the direction I'd ever hope this site wold go in

I'm fuckin exhausted. Just lemme do my fandom whateverness without having to perform to some arbritary social interaction standard/requirements that I neither understand nor can do

[cilil]

Author's Note: Requested by my good friend Thuri🖤

⋆ ｡･ ☾ Drabble ⋆ ｡･ ✩

After a long Day of Work

The peaceful scene is interrupted when the fires suddenly flare up and a low rumble echoes through the cavernous halls of Utumno, waking Mairon from his slumber.

Pairing: Melkor/Mairon | Angbang

Prompt: Coming home after a long day "I missed you" kisses (no. 17 of this lovely post)

Synopsis: Melkor returns to Utumno. Mairon welcomes him home.

Featuring: Fluff, dork lords in love

Short oneshot (~600 words)

The fires in the forge are crackling softly, illuminating the room with a warm golden glow while everything else remains still. Tools are scattered all over the workplace, disrupting the usual impeccable tidiness, and a wild array of papers covers a nearby table, showing sketches of upcoming projects and new inventions. 

Mairon is asleep. His head rests on top of his latest notes, and his breath is slow and quiet. A few fiery locks successfully manage to escape from his braid as he shifts around and settle over his face and shoulders like rivulets of flame. His fána finally succumbed to exhaustion after many hours of work which he neglected to count–an unfortunate side effect of his tendency to get so immersed in his projects that he forgets everything around him; and of Melkor currently not being there to distract him. 

The peaceful scene is interrupted when the fires suddenly flare up and a low rumble echoes through the cavernous halls of Utumno, waking Mairon from his slumber. He blinks in confusion and lifts his head, tucking a few locks behind his ear with mild irritation, until he realizes– 

He is back.

Golden eyes light up in joy, and he immediately forgets about his messy braid and the slight ache in his back and shoulders as he jumps to his feet and hurries outside. 

It feels as if the entire fortress greets its master with many small gestures of welcome that Mairon has become accustomed to. The fires burn hotter, the frosty winds outside become more fierce, the Vala's music echoes through the very foundations of the earth and the soft pitter patter of many paws and feet can be heard in the hallways when more and more Maiar and other creatures notice that their lord has returned. 

Mairon knows Melkor well enough to know where he has to look for him–neither at the gates, nor in his throne room, but in their shared chambers instead. And indeed he finds him there, waiting for him with a grin of joyful anticipation. A strong arm pulls him close when he runs to greet his beloved, tiptoeing to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

Melkor chuckles lightly as he feels the heat of his favorite Maia's lips against his, kissing him with fiery, almost frantic excitement and yearning. Mairon presses his entire body against him with shameless need, and small sparks fall from his hair, his entire fána nearly burning with passion. 

They are both breathless when he finally breaks the kiss to look up at the Vala, pouting a little. 

"I missed you," he says, cheeks flushing red upon realizing how needy he must seem right now. 

Yet Melkor appears to be delighted by his greeting, holding him like he's his greatest treasure. 

"I missed you too, little flame," he replies and starts toying with a stray lock of his hair. 

"I take it you were busy in your forge, hmm?" 

"Well..." 

Mairon is a little embarrassed to admit that he fell asleep, but Melkor doesn't bother asking about it, already one step ahead.  

"And when was the last time you went to bed?" 

The Maia's expression becomes sheepish, telling him everything he needs to know. Shaking his head, he picks him up with playful ease and throws him over his shoulder. 

"Your projects will have to wait for the moment. You are going to bed with me right now," Melkor declares, then a smirk appears on his lips. 

"Which is also a wonderful opportunity for you to tell me more about how much you missed me..." 

masterlist | tag list form

[contentloadingandstuff]

Mortuarius - Chapter III

"Move! Move!" 

Denki feels a strong arm slam his back, propelling him forward. He nearly collapses on the stone pavement, but manages to regain balance quickly, retaining the merciless running pace. His whole body is screaming, muscles crying out with ripping pain. It's the ninth lap, and his knees are about to give out. Yet he pushes on, determined to meet his trainer's quotas. He straightens himself out, sweat drenching his tank top, and jogs forward. 

And to think he was expecting to be cold in his outfit. 

After Watcher led him to his new "mentor", there wasn't much time for him to rest and get his bearings. The very next day marked the start of his training programme. Both of the undead said that, if he wants to become worthy of joining The Legion, he must be up to par with their capabilities, or bring something unique to the table. Since the human never trained or fought much before, he was clueless as to what he could offer. Aldehan Adler, his new assigned supervisor, stated that the only way to find out more about his talents would be bringing them out by training. Worry sparked in his chest, for what mercy could he expect from someone like him? 

He stumbled on a small crevice between the stones, dragging the attention to himself once again. It was hard to not be the most interesting part of the session when he was the only one training. Adler screamed out to him, and though his voice was deep and echoing, the human could sense a certain fierceness and anger lining the words.

"So far, you're proving to be more of a potential liability than an asset. Get. A. Grip." Adler hisses through his teeth, making Denki groan and push onwards through the pain. 

Adler's irises twitch in satisfaction. Although the fresh meat was weak, it could listen to orders. He crossed his arms, watching as Denki moved on to the last segment of the loop. The exhaustion is clear to see in his every movement. The clumsiness of his steps, the slow pace, the limpness of his arms. And yet, despite all that, Denki keeps moving. 

When Watcher first brought the human to his chambers, Adler only laughed. Denki looked pale, disoriented and weak. He wasn't anywhere near fit to be a soldier, let alone in his formation. Membership required skill, devotion and determination, and at first Adler saw in him only faults and flaws. His human-like condition aside, it quickly came to light that Denki couldn't even complete the warm up of ten running laps. After the sixth he fell, knees buckling and breathing heavily, hands scraped to blood on the flooring. Adler genuinely expected him to curl up and cry, like some of the mortal militia he takes on sometimes. Just as the undead was about to mock the mortal, Denki stood up. With much pain he dragged himself upward, and waded on. Of course, Adler didn't want to interrupt him - he only had to step in when, at the ninth lap, Denki nearly coughed his lungs out. 

It would be safe to say that, despite the ending flop, Adler was pleased with him. If nothing else, Denki had the determination to complete his training. 

As the first few days passed by, the general would come to learn more about his trainee. Except for the resolve, the young Sakurai had an unusual pain resistance as well. Despite the intense cardio and hours long training, he never complained or whined about exhaustion. To test this, Adler ordered him to drop down and do push ups, presenting the action to be purely for his own amusement. The hatred for him, pulsing and throbbing through Denki's entire body, was extremely obvious. But among the racing images of violently killing his mentor, Adler sensed no regret. 

Even when Denki was allowed to stop after thirty seven push ups, far beyond his endurance of that time, he still walked to his quarters by himself and came back tomorrow, fresh and ready to improve. The muscle gain was also noticeable, or more precisely - it's unnatural speed. 

But that would be nothing unusual for The Fly Lord's work. As much as the thought of Sunqu made Adler's non-existing stomach turn, he couldn't refute his superior designs' perfection. 

Agonizingly, the human dragged his body towards the finish line, his jog a laughable parody of the word "run". When he arrived at the destination, Denki fell to his knees, panting heavily. Adler nodded. 

“Decent performance. Catch your breath, and we’ll move to the next exercise." 

Relieved and immensely thankful, Denki drops to the ground. His eyes, barely ajar after the strenuous cardio, lie idly on Adler's form as the undead speaks in his language. In comparison to all the other undead he met so far, Adler stood lower in posture, yet he was still bigger than Watcher. Despite his unremarkable stature, the general instilled a passive aura of command and competence. He spoke with confidence, loud and imperative in each word. Adler's equipment was more than fitting for a general. His golden, decorative armor was complimented by a thin wool cloak, covering his back down to his shins and extending into a full hood. Steel boots struck the ground with audible heaviness as he walked, so much so that every undead he passed could recognise him by his steps alone. His skeletal hands were covered by thick leather, concealing their true fragility. Denki never once saw him without his blade by his side, sheathed, but imposing nonetheless. Aside from the fairly modest, weathered crown on his hooded skull, the most eye-catching trinket of his was the handful of small, metal items attached to his belt. Some were thin and slightly damaged, others were thick and whole, every one of them maintained and polished to perfection. The sigil resembled a flame of sorts, not unlike the spread wings of a phoenix without its head or legs. When he moved, the baubles would clatter against his armor, announcing his arrival in tune with his thundering footsteps. The clasp to his cape was a black Vision, with a white eye symbol engraved within. The bronze casing consisted of two sharp, polished shards on the gemstone's top and bottom. 

With a groan of extortion, Denki lifted his exhausted body back to a standing position. His eyes landed on a wooden table Adler was pointing at. 

"Pick one." Adler said. 

With nothing else to do, Denki approached the wooden structure. On the worn out wood lies a selection of weapons. A sword, a katana, some sort of a curved sword he saw on pictures from Sumeru, a thin Fontaine rapier, and a heavy claymore. Every blade is painted matte black, but the frequent scratches of silver prove that the armaments are not newly forged. Denki reaches for the sword, just as his teacher suggested before. He stops, and turns back to look at Adler. 

"Who will I be facing, master?" Despite his best efforts, his voice doesn't sound firm and confident, coming out more as a fearful plea. 

Adler points behind him with his thumb. "A rankman. Standard issue equipment, standard training, average skill. He shouldn't be a challenge for you, if you were listening at all these past few days."

The words of Adler hold no comfort as Denki looks over at his opponent. The skeleton, clad in plate armor, stands taller than the general, nearly matching his own height. The skull, with the unmissable and ever piercing white irises in the eye sockets, is well maintained and whole. The helmet is a fairly standard steel cover with twisting horns of a ram mounted on the sides. Just as its superior, the Wight has full chest, arm and leg armor, coupled with leather gloves and high boots reinforced with steel plates. Its sword, still sheathed, was accompanied by a broad shield. 

The undead sends its mortal opponent a friendly nod, and Denki turns back to the table. The weapons were dulled, so the risk of cutting would be minimal. Not like cutting the skeleton would do anything, of course. And so wouldn't stabbing it. Despite the claymore being the sensible option in his mind, Denki looks towards the katana. This is definitely the weapon he is most acquainted with, or at least that is what he thinks. The sword looks familiar to him, and rests well in his hand. He is from Inazuma, so he most likely used it before. Even despite his hardest efforts, he can't seem to recall any specific memories. 

He picks up the blade, and turns to Adler. "I will take this. What are the rules?" 

Adler eyes Denki, his voice full of unmissable amusement. "Three hits for you and first blood for him. You'd want to get a shield for that."

Something creeps into his mind. Someone told him in the past that a shield is a weapon of cowards. Denki shakes his head politely, and slowly walks away from Adler, getting into stance. 

These words… Who shared them? His father, or his teacher? Maybe he read that somewhere? His mind holds no answers, just more questions. 

His eyes never leave his opponent. The skeleton walks up to its place slowly, plates quietly rattling against each other as he moves. Denki narrows his eyes. It doesn't seem too agile, with all of that armor weighing it down. If he manages to dodge attacks, he will surely win. He takes a deep breath. 

"I'm ready." He says, adjusting his grip. 

"Ready." The skeleton replies. 

Adler steps back. "Begin!" 

The skeleton moves first, stepping up to him and striking right away. Denki dodges to his side, catching the blow with the edge of his sword. He tries a quick riposte, but the skeleton takes the full force of the blow on his shield. Sparks fly into the air as the attack slides off of the steel surface. The human barely manages to stop a hew aimed at his side. Despite his fast reaction, he fails to dodge it completely - the tip of the blade grazes his Chest plate. He returns the attack right away, but once again it is blocked. Denki is able to block an overhead chop, striking the undead's blade right as it swings down. He tries to spin around to deliver a hit on the recovering enemy's side but he is struck with its armored shoulder, making him stumble back. He manages to whip his katana into position to just barely block an incoming strike, but the next attack comes too quickly to react. The heavy shield's edge is struck forward, landing right on his face. 

The sheer force of the sends him back. His foot, placed awkwardly and unable to stabilize him, bends and Denki tumbles to the ground. His skull slams on the stone bricks paving the training square, making his vision go dark. His hands tremble, desperately searching for his weapon. Just then does his adrenaline rush come down, and the throbbing, sharp pain in his jaw makes itself known. He screams out in pain and clutches his bleeding mouth, eyes squeezing shut. He rolls to his side and curls slightly, breath heaving and tears welling in his eyes. He feels blood pouring from his wound, and so he spits it out on the floor. As his vision slowly comes back, deep, mocking laughter fills his ears.

"I told you what to use, didn't I? But no, you wouldn't listen. Now look at you, squirming like a worm and crying like a baby." Adler crouches down to his level, and pries Denki's hands away, gripping his jaw painfully to examine the wound. "Ow, the toddler got his tooth knocked out and now he's throwing a tantrum! What a despicable excuse for a man you are, Sakurai Denki."

A slap falls on Denki's face, adding insult to injury. Adler lets go of him and stands up. A muffled sob escapes the human's lips as he rolls over and tries to stand up. After dragging himself up to his feet, pain and tears clouding his vision, he comes face to face with Adler. 

"Get out of my face, scum." Adler points towards the gate leading out of the training field. "Come back when you stop being a whiny maiden. I don't want the likes of you anywhere near the Legion."

"Y-yes, master. I'm sorry." Denki looks down in shame. 

"Out. I don't want to see you back here unless you decide to get a grip." Adler growls, his irises gaining a red hue. "OUT!"

Without further ado, Denki scurries back towards the gates. The skeleton guard looks at him emotionless as he passes by. His fingers, stained red with the running blood, rest on his face protectively. Not because of the pain, but due to shame. 

How could he? How could he not mind the words of his mentor, his guard, his teacher? He is meant to heed his advice, learn from him, trust his judgment and words. He wants the best for him, does he not? And yet he disregarded his words of wisdom and paid the price for his own stupidity. He deserved it, all of it. He is worthless, useless, whimsy and weak. Denki cries silent tears of embarrassment as he makes his way down the Citadel's corridors. His pathetic feet place unworthy steps on the dusty red carpet lining the passage. 

One thought rages through his mind as he knocks on a heavy, dark oak door. 

How could he be so ungrateful? 

"Come in." 

Denki pushes the door open, his eyes landing on a familiar figure. Sitting by the wooden desk is Watcher, a notebook in his hands. The pages are filled with an unknown scripture. The Liche turns to face the newcomer, and sighs. 

"With what do you come today?" 

Denki uncovers his mouth. "Tooth."

Watcher motions to a large adjustable surgical chair, and turns back to his writing. Denki slowly makes his way to the pointed seat, and lowers himself to rest on it. He always felt somewhat uneasy in his caretaker’s lab. Although he knew that the skeleton wouldn’t do harm, the familiarity of his tools was far from comforting. As he settles down, Watcher offers a clean piece of gauze in his gloved hand. 

“Bite down on this.” Denki does as instructed, wincing as pressure is placed on his wound. He looks over to his right, and sees the Liche cleaning the mouth spreader. Just the sight of the polished cage of small metal rods brings him back. 

“Iz that really nesheshary?” He speaks, bindings still soaking in excess blood. The guardian turns to him, his irises narrowing. 

“If you will restrain yourself from flinching and let me work, then no. If you do, then I’m going to put it on. Did I make myself clear?”

Denki nods, and much to his relief, the device is placed back on the counter. Watcher opens a drawer, replaces his gloves with thinner, rubber ones, and retracts a few surgical tools. He grabs a stool and places it next to the chair. The trainee gulps as the tools close in. 

Gently, the blood soaked gauze is removed, revealing Denki’s mouth. Watcher hums, and turns to a nearby tray. 

“The first front tooth on the left is broken in half. I will have to pull out the root, but don’t worry. You’ll get a new one right away.” The human’s eyes anxiously watch as his medic eyes a scalpel and a pair of pliers. Just the sight makes his hands clutch the armrests tightly.

Denki closes his eyes. Every muscle tenses as the cold metal touches his skin. Suddenly, the scalpel cuts into his gums, slashing the tissue like butter. Denki whines, and tears dribble down his cheeks. His grip becomes iron, mind focused on calming itself down. Blood wells in his mouth when the cut is made. Setting down the scalpel means no relief, as Watcher takes the pliers right away. The tool wanders around his mouth, probing the wound and looking for a suitable angle. His skin crawls as the sounds of steel hitting his tooth become audible. 

“Right here…”

Watcher’s voice is quiet when the pliers lock on their target. Denki braces himself, and the awful sensation of ripping floods his mind. He wants to scream, cry, escape, but he knows better than to misbehave. 

The pain is brief, but awful still. Watcher quickly presents Denki with the bloodied remnant of his tooth. He sighs heavily in relief, and closes his eyes. The sound of shuffling reaches him, and Denki looks in the direction curiously. Watcher drops the tooth into a cloth bag, setting it on the counter. His hand reaches a handle and tugs on it, revealing a cupboard full of teeth. The bones, of all shapes and sizes, are each placed on a piece of cotton and marked with symbols he isn’t familiar with. Watcher picks one and slides the rest back into storage. After a short cleaning and another change of gloves, he positions himself back on the stool. Wiping the blood, he places the tooth into Denki’s jaw. A firm twist is all it takes to fit the missing part into his jaw. Watcher taps the enamel a few times, ensuring its stability. He nods to himself.

“Fixed. Don’t drink anything too hot or cold for some time now. The nerve endings need time to fuse back together. Does the injury feel numb?” He asks, offering Denki a bundle of cotton. 

He takes it, and gently swabs it on the injury a few times. “Yes. It feels strange…”

“It’s normal. The feeling will be back in an hour or so. How are your hands?” He points a finger to Denki’s hands, still locked over the armrests. He takes a breath and presents them.

The pale skin on the insides is littered with purple and red cuts, some scabbed over, others still exposed, but not one bleeding. Watcher rubs his finger over the biggest ones, gauging his patient’s reaction. The human only hisses quietly. 

“They’re healing up nicely.” He chuckles, but Denki only frowns in response. “At least he taught you how to hold a sword proper, no?”

Denki looks away and remains silent. Watcher shakes his head, and pats the mortal’s cheek with his blood-smeared hand. Denki gets up. He turns for the door, but he hears his caretaker’s voice behind him. 

“Wipe those tears. At least try to look presentable.”

Denki shuts the door behind him with a loud thud, and turns on his heel. His head throbs as he marches towards his room. He doesn’t feel the pain anymore, a sensation of dullness resonating through his jaw. 

Exhaustion, anger and pain mix inside him, threatening to boil over at any point. Denki pushes his door open, and, with all his resolve, stops himself from slamming it shut. Desperately he pushes his thoughts away, focusing on unbuckling the armor and stripping down. 

He’s just tired, he thinks. That is why he is feeling angry. He needs to take a shower and rest his head for a while. Yes, rest will resolve everything, he figures while stepping into the rudimentary bathroom. Mistakes happened today, his mistakes. He was at fault here. It was he who disregarded the words of his teacher, insulting him. Adler had all the right to react as he did. Perhaps he should be grateful for being set straight. 

They care, for sure. Otherwise, why would they be so strict, if not wanting to keep him safe and alive in his future encounters?

He sighs as the hot water hits his white back, steam quickly building up, filling his lungs and nostrils with the comfortable, stuffy sensation. He can feel his body relax, and he gives into the feeling. 

One thought sticks in his mind, however. Should he? Should he indulge himself? Today, he made several big mistakes and was punished for it. Nevermind his missteps, this type of behavior will only get him used to comfort and safety, won’t it? A warrior’s life is never easy, and treating himself will only cause more pain when these distractions are taken away. 

He can’t do this. Adler was right. These types of pleasures are for whiny damsels, not for real men. Real men must suffer to succeed. He can’t weaken himself with luxuries, else he becomes what his mentor suggested - a pathetic excuse of a man. 

Denki growls and moves his aching arm to turn the valve of the shower, turning the pleasantly warm water frigid. He screams as the icy liquid pours on him, body trembling from the sudden change in temperature. 

This is the way. 

It’s for his own good.

He deserves this.

—

A wave of chill strikes him as he steps out from the Citadel. The scarf does its job, but the cold wind still bites his exposed face, reddening the porcelain skin. Denki’s breath is fogging. He looks up at the sky for the first time since… forever, he thinks. A sigh of disappointment leaves his lips when his vision is filled with thick, gray clouds. Not a single ray of sun pierces unimpeded through them, covering the city with gloom. He doesn’t fail to notice the unnatural purplish tint of the skies above him. 

His eyes fall lower, resting on the city in front of him. Only a handful of structures tower over the rough level of the capital, impressive in their stature. Below them the buildings are a blend of gray and black, with a few sprinkles of color here and there - sticking out like candy amongst ashes. Every chimney in the city pumps out smoke, warming the inhabitants within the homes below, and filling him with a certain sense of… coziness. He shudders as another gust of wind blows icy droplets of rain into his face. 

His underground dorm beneath the Citadel has little commodities, no doubt about that, but at least it is warm.

Although the downpour makes them hard to pick up, Denki can just faintly hear sounds of the hustle and bustle, unlike that of Inazuma City. His brow furrows at the thought of street vendors and passersby going about their business in such weather. Despite the noticeable scarcity of decorations, the black banners hang frequently from underneath roofs and overpasses. On the soaked, black material the eye symbol is intricately sewn, its gaze piercing and unrelenting on anyone who dares to look at them. Over the tall wall surrounding the Citadel, only a few spots catch his eye. He sees a few balconies hanging above the streets. Their whole construction has not an inch of wood, consisting of painted steel and stone instead. Warm, orange light pours from the windows and doorways behind them, painting the lush potted plant life in bright softer color. 

The rain doesn’t seem to let up. Unsurprisingly, the undead within the Citadel’s perimeter move about and patrol unphased, their armors slippery and shining with moisture. Wooden crates are being carried from a point outside his range of view, and placed on iron carts mounted on rails. The individual forges lining the sides of the barrier form a hermetic link over the left area, stopping only as the main exit route parts the two fragments on the courtyard. To his right, he hears the audible clash of weaponry. He looks over, noticing multiple pairs of knights, locked in individual duels. The fight with no boundaries - shoving, kicking, bashing with shields - Denki notices one undead using his fists, his sword laying far from him and his sparring partner. 

Suddenly, Denki feels a hand on his shoulder. He snaps around, pushing the stranger’s arm away. Much to his embarrassment, behind him stand two armored guards. Contrary to the trainees in the courtyard, they have matte-black chest plates and arm guards, their armors split in half by a leather strap holding their rifles firmly on their backs. Every one of the four irises is focused on him. 

“Forgive me for this interruption, sir.” The undead speaks, in a deep, dull tone. “I couldn’t help but notice you, standing here for a few minutes now. Do you need any help? Are you unwell?”

Denki pulls down his mouth cover and replies. “I… Yes. It’s my first time outside, to tell you the truth. Lord Watcher gave me permission to visit the city, but I am not sure where to go. He gave me some coins, but I can’t read the symbols on them.”

After fishing the small pouch from his coat’s pocket, he pulls the string and drops the silver coins on the palm of his hand. The second guard takes them into his hands, and examines them closely. 

“That’s three hundred Ether. Those two are hundreds, and those two are fifties. You can buy a lot with that, sir.” After pointing to the specific coins, the undead hands Denki the coins. 

“Thank you.” Denki looks back at the city behind him. “And where could I… spend them?”

After readjusting his weapon, he points right in front of him. “Leave through the main gate, and you’ll be at Imperius street. There are many stalls and restaurants not only there, but all over the city as well. I am sure you will find something to your liking, sir.” Denki can feel a smile in his voice as the skeleton delivers the final invitation. 

“I can suggest a few places to visit if you wish to hear me, Sakurai Denki.” 

All three turn towards the entry to the fortress from where the sound came. In a steady pace, a uniform-clad figure approaches them, arms slightly open in courteous invitation. The tall, waxed leather boots step quietly as the newcomer approaches. He stands a head lower than Denki, but his formal black cap extends farther above. The black outfit is perfectly clean and straight, the three polished medals on the right side of his chest placed in perfect symmetry to each other. As every undead, he wore gloves, but in contrast to the rest, his were thin and lined with golden thread at the sides and edges. Behind his formal trousers, with straight purple lines sewn on the outsides of his sleeves, waved a thin black cloak, further adding to his uniform’s impressive cut. On his left wrist a copper-clad Electro Vision shined, tied to his skeleton with a leather strap.

The guards straighten out, and place their hands across their chests with a loud thud, before putting them back along their body. “Glory to the Great One!”

As the black-clad undead stands next to Denki, he too places his arm over his chest. “Glory to the Great One. At ease, soldiers.”

The guards relax, and he turns towards Denki, extending his right arm. 

“I believe we have not met yet. My name is Felix Waltz, General Artilleris of The Legion. It is an honor to at last meet you in person.” Denki shakes his hand carefully and bows in reflex.

“It is my honor, general.”

“Oh, I believe it is all on my side.” He tilts his skull downwards. “Shall we take a stroll?”

Denki’s eyes focus on his irises, and he nods. 

Thank you for reading!

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 6

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Ringing.   That was the first noise Y/N heard. The sound was so jarring against an echo chamber of nothingness, that it urged Y/N to reach out for consciousness; to become aware of what was. Their body bobbed in and out of time, and if Y/N were fully aware of the experience, they would compare it to flight; for the body felt boundless and untethered to the world. From what little understanding Y/N’s mind had about their situation, they could have been drifting out to sea, being carried by a gentle current of waves taking them to their final place of rest. There was a calm surrender to the thought, until light began to leak through their eyes.    Slowly, Y/N woke up and was greeted to colors and shapes. Eos looked like a world under ice, for everything was distorted. The ringing continued it’s pulsing drum, cancelling out all other noise in the world. It suddenly occurred to Y/N, that they were not floating off into a void. No. They were being carried.    As reality began to piece itself back together before Y/N’s eyes, a blur of black and red became hair, clothes, and then a face.    Ardyn.    His clothes were burnt and tarnished. His head dripping with a pool of blood that carded down his face like an elegant serpent. The deep yellow’s of his eyes popped out against the darkness that ensnared the whites of his sclera. He was Adagium; the primordial entity of vengeance and power. This was a man who looked as if he had walked through Ifrit’s very fire and lived to tell the tale, and he was tired. So tired. Not even the scourge could hide the sheer exhaustion against his features.    I remember you…   The ringing in Y/N’s ears became interrupted, by a new noise. A gentle and rhythmic bump. One pulse, then two, then twenty. That’s when they were suddenly greeted by those pair of golden eyes, staring down at them.    Ardyn stopped walking.    Y/N’s body ceased moving across the unconscious sea, and they witnessed the Adagium fade into the background of whatever masks he wore. A mere man looked upon them with both awe and fear.    Y/N couldn’t smell, much less had the ability to communicate. They focused on his lips, his mouth moving but no sound ever graced their ears. His arms that cradled them close to his chest tightened, making Y/N feel secure enough to drift back into the dark without fear. They could sleep, knowing that he was the only thing standing between them and death. 

The memory went back into Y/N’s subconscious while they wiped their eyes. A few sniffles came and went. It had long become nightfall, and the chill winds along the coast crept into the land of Lucis. Clouds hovering above the ocean indicated a storm would pass through. Y/N could feel the bitter snips of cold against their flesh, making them wish they hadn’t been so emotionally compromised to the point of not having the clarity to get something warmer to wear. The throbbing ache of the scourge didn’t help the sensation either. 

For a moment, Y/N was taken out of their sadness. They stopped along the side of the road, and patted at their lower chest, and throat. The flare up they endured while running away from Galdin Quay was quite unusual. It felt as if they had thrown up and simultaneously glitched. The experience was peculiar, almost as if they were in two places at once but that couldn’t be so. The thought troubled Y/N for a time as they resumed their walk, and their misgivings toward the afternoon and night reappeared. 

There were no words to describe how numb Y/N felt in mind and heart. If a rogue Flexitusk were to suddenly come out of the shadows and make Y/N’s flesh a quick meal, they wouldn’t have cared. A morbid part of themself hoped for such an experience to pass, but they would’ve felt guilt for Ardyn not knowing what had become of them, not that he cared anyhow as Y/N recalled their conversation in the Vixen after he fed upon them. 

“Flexitusk or Ardyn, either way I’m getting consumed by some screwed up creature.” Y/N muttered to themself, letting out an amused huff. It was the only solace they had managed to offer themself for the night as they continued to their trek along the highway to the rendezvous point where Ardyn said he would be. 

Y/N looked down at their wrist watch hours later. It was approaching 1:30am. Sighing, they climbed over the guardrail along the highway and ventured off road to where they estimated the imperial airship would be along Cape Shawe. 

Y/N was somewhat amused with a thought. Traveling on foot at night along the road, and walking off into the wilds when daemons lurked throughout Lucis once upon a time scared the living crap out of them. Now after becoming infected, it wasn’t the worst thing that could come. Y/N smiled a little, taking comfort they were feeling a bit more courageous like their old self. 

The moon was quite bright this night, for it cast a glow that allowed Y/N to see far off into the distance. Every so often they needed to squint, just to be sure a tree or rock was indeed just that and not an animal. The winds whispered as grassland began to come into view. Anak’s, tall long necked beasts bellowed out soothing tunes to the herd from afar. The sound of a car rolling by with a smooth engine came and went, barely interrupting the wilds of Lucis. Y/N had traveled at night before, but tonight felt different in a sense. For the first time, there was this peace that managed to calm Y/N’s nerves. They couldn’t help but wonder if this was the result of becoming daemonic. 

That’s when a bright light suddenly rose from the horizon of the grass plain, and Y/N shielded themself immediately. A flashback of the glaive who found them came and went. Their body tensed, and they fought back the urge to take off running. 

“You there, cease your movements at once!” 

Y/N’s breath quickened. The spotlight lowered, and the sound of metal upon metal was heard in tantrum with precise steps. Y/N forced themself to look ahead, and noticed there were both men and magitek soldiers coming into view. 

“Drop any weapons you have, and hold your arms up!”

The intrusive memory of being dragged by their hair and thrown into the back of a grime filled truck had Y/N freeze, and their breathing shook. Nevertheless, they complied with the request, and raised their hands. Fear began to take root, cancelling out the their positive feelings from just moments ago. They fought against the memory of the night the glaive condemned them to MedZin, while listening to the soldiers chatter. 

“What do you make of this?” 

“A Lucian!”

“All the way out here!? How did they know about our location!?” 

“Could be a glaive!” 

“Either way, we should probably dispose of them.”

The sinking feeling of being tossed like garbage gave Y/N the strength to finally speak up.

“I seek peace!” Y/N swallowed, blinking a few times as rain began to fall, coming from a coastal cloud drifting overhead. “I’m with Chancellor Izunia, perhaps he told you about me. My name is--”

“It doesn’t matter what name you have,” One of the soldiers barked. “And there’s no way the likes of you would know the Chancellor! He’s not one for company of any kind, courtiers, the poor or common whores! For all I know, you could be a crownsguard looking to cause trouble!” 

Anger surged through Y/N, and they couldn’t help but counter them. 

“If I didn’t know him, then how would I know to come here? Do you see any other Lucian’s beside me out here in the middle of the night looking for an imperial airship?” 

“Are you being smart with me!?” The soldier exclaimed with great disdain. 

“I’m not trying to cause a problem, and I need to see Chancellor Izunia! It’s very, very important that I---”

“This may be your home turf, but we won’t hesitate to put you in your place!” 

Before Y/N could react, they were grabbed from behind at their neck. Y/N screamed as they were slammed to the ground, then pinned by two magitek soldiers pressing their feet against their back. Lying on their stomach with their arms splayed, Y/N could taste dirt against their tongue while they yelled. 

“Should we arrest the Lucian?” One of of the men aksed cautiously. “Maybe we should report this to the Chancellor…y’know, get this information verified.”

“I say this one is better off slaughtered.”

“No!” Y/N shouted. “No, please!” 

“What is the meaning of this?!” A thick older voice called out from the distance.

Y/N somehow forced themself to look up. They met the sorrowful eyes of an old man, dressed head to toe in imperial armor that far outclassed the likes of everyone around him. Their heart thudded deeply in their chest, wondering if this would be the person to decide their fate. 

“S-sir, commander, this Lucian--” 

“If you vaguely recall,” The man interrupted and raised his voice. “Chancellor Izunia was expecting a guest.”

“But how do we know it’s this one, sir?”

“Well, did you shoot first or ask questions?” 

“I, but--”

“Save it!” 

Y/N watched as the old man’s eyes laid upon them, and they couldn’t help but shirk. 

The old man gave a firm nod to the magitek troops that had Y/N pinned, and with little expression, they removed their feet from Y/N’s back. 

“Dear one, are you seeking the Chancellor?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I am his guest.” 

“He was not expecting you until--”

“My plans changed,” Y/N croaked out, trying not to swallow mud while they slowly began to rise. The cold, rain, and sudden attack had them trembling. Somehow through it all, they gathered the strength to say their final piece. 

“Please. I don’t have any other proof but my word. If you need to verify who I am, call him. Tell him that Y/N is here. He’ll know it’s me.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” The commander raised his hands, gesturing that Y/N didn’t need to do anything further. His eyes landed on the soldier who had been picking a fight with Y/N, and with quiet anger ordered that the soldier go fetch Y/N something warm to cover up with to make up for the transgression. Moments after Y/N was presented with an imperial cloak, the commander came to their side to escort them.

“Chancellor Izunia will be most pleased to know of your arrival. I apologize for the terrible manners my men have. It’s been a day of hell.” 

Y/N furrowed their brows, shivering underneath the cloak. “Day of hell?” 

“I’m sure the Chancellor will fill you in on the details. Let’s focus on getting you out of the rain, and to the inn where he is staying.” 

The inn...? The confusion upon Y/N’s features could be detected even among the darkness of the night, however it became increasingly obvious that the commander didn’t have the social bandwidth let alone patience to divulge what had been going on. Y/N thought right now it was best to remain silent, and keep their head low especially as both they and the commander walked past more Niflheim soldiers who were taken aback by the new blood that entered their terrority. It nerved Y/N, how they were so keen on sensing that there was an other among them. Then again, the empire was known for breeding killers, and the way they stared made Y/N realize there might’ve been truth to those rumors especially when it came to the magitek troops, whose red eyes glowed in the darkness. The illumination reminded them of the Goblin in the cave, and Y/N found the familiarity unsettling. On a subconscious level, there was both familial acknowledgement toward the magitek soldiers and their lifeless personas, and a dread that couldn’t be explained with words, only felt through a force that shared common ground. 

These things have the scourge inside of them…The epiphany had Y/N freeze. For years upon years, there had been rumors as to what kind of evil Niflheim had dabbled in to create these undying men. Everything from blood sacrifice, to retro engineering Ancient Solheim technology had been spread word of mouth across Lucis. There was a chilling thought besides the connection Y/N shared with these beings, that maybe they were the only soul in the kingdom that knew the truth. 

“Are you alright?” 

The commander’s voice pulled Y/N’s attention back to the present moment. They nodded quick to avoid looking suspicious. 

“Yeah, just tired.” 

The commander nodded. “All the more reason to get you out of this storm and into the Chancellor’s care. Let’s keep moving, shall we?” 

Y/N nodded yet again and remained silent the rest of the way. As the rain beat heavily against them, soaking the cloak until it stuck to Y/N’s skin, their mind wandered back to the memory of Ardyn carrying them out of the MedZin lab, trying to recall what he said that kept them away from the chill of death.

Sitting on the bed of his suite, Ardyn turned another page to a magazine he had been reading. He held the paper binding up close to his face. Every so often, rubbing at his eyes. The text would fade in and out, then Ardyn would force himself to zero in. Keeping his brain fixated on one word at a time helped a great deal, but at the expense of his quick thinking mind for it felt shackled at not being able to skip ahead. The issue of his sight reminded Ardyn of the vast stack of paperwork he’d have waiting for him on his desk upon return to Niflheim. He made a solemn face at the thought while combing over the gossip section of Lucian Inquiry. 

Reading over the fantastical tall tales people made up about powerful entities and the royal family itself brought him some mischievous joy. The bit about King Regis having a limp due to a sexual injury while trying to create heirs had Ardyn snort rather hard. He considered himself brilliant when it came to lying, but this was too outrageous, even a jester like him. 

“If only they knew the truth about that little problem,” Ardyn chuckled, recalling the epic battle he had with his descendent years ago at the Lucis’s Founding Ceremony, and how he had crippled the young king of yesteryear. 

The vibration of his phone going off had Ardyn turn his head. He furrowed his brows, sat the magazine down at his side and picked up. 

“Yes?” 

“Pardon disturbing you, but you have a visitor.” 

“Oh?” Ardyn raised a brow. 

“Their name is Y/N. They claim to be the guest you informed the commander about.” 

To say that Ardyn was startled was an understatement. He froze for a time, wondering if this was a ploy to something decietful. After the attack earlier, he couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. 

“Do tell me what they look like.” Ardyn murmured. There was a faint shuffling noise in the background, and he picked up on some noises. Whatever was said couldn’t be made out in full. 

The soldier cleared his throat on the other end. “They have Y/E/C, Y/H/C, and they are roughly Y/HGHT.” 

“Send them to me.” Ardyn commanded and hung up. There was no need for further detail, nor caution. 

Many questions traversed through Ardyn’s mind while he awaited for Y/N to enter the room. His golden eyes stared at the door the entire time, until the knob twisted and Y/N weakly walked in, with their escort not far behind. Ardyn’s brows raised as did his eyes widen a little, seeing Y/N soaked from head to toe. Y/N looked as if they had been chewed up and spat out by not only the elements, but something else that bore more weight. The sight caused Ardyn to swallow back a gulp he hadn’t noticed while he stood up quick. 

“Tell me,” Ardyn’s eyes narrowed past Y/N and at the escort. “Why are they in such a sorry state?” 

His voice was so angry, both Y/N and the soldier flinched. 

“I--I’m not sure. I can ask the commander--”

“You damn well better! Or I’ll---”

“Hey,” Y/N piped up before anything could potentially get out of hand. Their gaze met the fury of Ardyn’s eyes, and Y/N shook their head. “Not now.” 

Ardyn glared, closing his eyes while taking in a deep breath. He didn’t bother to say another word, and merely shooed the escort away. The soldier made a beeline out of the suite, and closed the door in haste, not wanting to overstay what little welcome he had been granted. 

With just himself and Y/N left, Ardyn opened his eyes. He inspected Y/N while they stared ahead, seemingly not paying him any mind.

“You’re way ahead of schedule,” Ardyn sarcastically huffed. “I suppose your affairs at the Quay were not as important as you made them out. What were you thinking, traveling at night all the way here by yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N quietly murmured. 

“You don’t know,” Ardyn repeated mockingly. “I took you for someone on the more intelligent end. You haven’t the slightest idea what sort of pressing dangers we have to contend with moving forward. You could’ve been killed! Why didn’t you stay back at Galdin Quay? I could’ve--- never mind. There’s no point.” he shook his head and sighed through his nose, trying in vain to calm his annoyance.  

“While you were saying goodbye to your dear old friends, the airship came under attack. MedZin operatives tracked the Vixen to the rendezvous point. I haven’t the slightest idea how they set up a surveillance patch, but they managed. If by an act of mercy, we are able to take flight, we’ll be leaving quite early. In the meantime, I need your compliance for--”

“Okay,” Y/N glumly interrupted and walked past Ardyn. They kept their gaze forward, focusing on nothing else but getting to the bathroom nearby. Y/N didn’t see the look of confusion that traveled over Ardyn’s face, or how he attempted to reach out for their shoulder to miss by an inch. As soon as Y/N entered the bathroom, they shut the door behind and shrugged off the wet cloak. The material fell with a moist flop against the tiled floor, and Y/N calmly sat down near the tub, bringing their knees to their chest while their arms encircled around themself. 

Ardyn had encountered an array of odd human behaviors, but he couldn’t recall anything akin to this. Even as he briefly combed over his catalog of absorbed memories, nothing jumped forward to help him in this situation. Normally, Ardyn was a man who loved traveling many paths so long as they arrived at his predetermined destination. Now he found himself dreading that he had one too many choices regarding how to approach this circumstance. Moments ago, he might as well been barking orders at the shell of a ghost versus the stubborn human he had fed off of earlier in the day. Rubbing the back of his neck, Ardyn decided to return to reading if only to clear his mind.

For a long while, he waited. At some point they would have to come out, surely. Every so often during the twenty minutes Ardyn awaited Y/N, he’d glance at the bathroom door. Not a sound. The room was too quiet now, even with the pitter patter of rain tapping the window glass nearby. He once more put the magazine down and got up from bed. 

Ardyn took a step forward, hesitating briefly then he walked up to the bathroom door. A part of himself believed giving space was the best option, but his morbid curiosity was too piqued to completely ignore Y/N’s demeanor. Especially with how long they had been cooped up in the restroom. 

Whatever was to happen going forward, he knew he needed to change tactics, start back at square one if only to pry from Y/N what had been unearthed at Galdin Quay. He settled with himself on the matter. 

Ardyn carded a hand through his hair before he knocked three times on the bathroom door. He didn’t bother for Y/N to answer, welcoming himself into the small dwelling. His eyes immediately caught Y/N’s gaze, seeing them flinch from the intrusion. 

“Greetings,” Ardyn offered casually. 

“Hey,” Y/N responded softly. 

Ardyn furrowed his brows. There was a melancholy sensation to Y/N’s cadence that he picked up rather quickly. He also noticed they were sitting on the floor beside the tub. Their submissive posture reminded Ardyn very much of the night he had tempted Y/N to join his side. The irony wasn’t lost on him. 

Ardyn closed the door behind him. “I didn’t expect you back so suddenly. After the fiasco today, I was going to retrieve you at Galdin Quay myself come sunrise after I’ve had a rest.”

“I guess I saved you the trouble.” Y/N smiled and tried to hide the pain in their voice. They shifted their eyes elsewhere. It was a vain attempt to shield how they were truly feeling after what transpired at the Quay. 

“The soldiers, did they mistreat you on the way here?” Ardyn asked. Behind the sincerity, there was a flame of anger in his voice. One that suggested he was already making assumptions about how Y/N arrived at their somber state. 

“No,” Y/N lied, and shook their head. Despite the cold welcome, Y/N wasn’t in the mood to deal with that injustice. “No. The soldiers were interrogative, but given what happened to the airship and you, I can’t say I blame them. At least they led me to you.” 

Ardyn hummed in suspicion and sighed. He offered a small bow with his head.  “My apologies for their behavior nonetheless. I’ll ensure it’s made clear you’re no threat to my being.” 

If Y/N didn’t know better, it sounded like Ardyn was going to give the soldiers a punishment, and not one of verbal nature. A shudder went down Y/N’s spine, followed by a pleasant warmth that spread from their chest and to their heart. There was an honesty to Ardyn’s words that felt safe if there ever was such a thing. 

“You seem rather,” Ardyn paused, trying to find the right word without pushing the envelope too much. “Despondent.” 

“I suck at hiding it, don’t I?” Y/N sniffled, letting out a chuckle to try and hide their feelings further from him. Humor was a coping mechanism they relied upon when they could feel their resolve begin to hit the lowest of lows. 

“I’m afraid you’d make a rather terrible thespian.” Ardyn mused. 

“At least I have self-deprecating comedy in spades.” Y/N countered with a quiet laugh. 

Ardyn smirked at the remark. Sighing through his nose, he carefully approached Y/N and crouched down. He observed the quick glimmer of surprise in Y/N’s eyes and proceeded to sit down beside them. He was careful to leave some room between their bodies, still unsure with himself why he was bothering to get on their level. It’s not like he gave a damn in the end what was going on with Y/N. Their life would be cut short in due time upon his hand, but he found himself further intrigued. 

“You made a substantial fuss regarding your old life,” Ardyn cut to the chase. “I’m not a man that normally gives out extra time for trivial matters, so forgive my earlier shock at seeing you here as you are.” 

Y/N nodded. Agreeing with him without protest. “You and I both wasted time.” 

Ardyn smiled a little. “Finally we agree on something.” 

When Y/N didn’t say anything after and looked elsewhere, Ardyn made a face. His brows furrowed upon feeling an unsteady weight in his chest. He was perplexed, sensing something akin to anxiety pool in his heart. He tried to push it away, not wanting to be reminded of Y/N’s memories that plagued him at the last place they both spent the night. 

“You’re completely drenched,” Ardyn motioned with his right hand at Y/N’s clothing. “I can have someone fetch you dry clothes if you’d like.” 

“That would be nice,” Y/N nodded. Instinct told them Ardyn was trying to figure out what had happened, but he either didn’t have the right words for it or he was scared. Either option was unusual for a man such as himself. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N reassured, putting on their best face. “I’m okay.” 

“I know,” Ardyn murmured. 

“Really, I’m gonna be okay.” 

There was a long pause and a heaviness that permeated the bathroom then. Y/N watched Ardyn’s eyes travel over them. His expression conveyed he wasn’t falling for their false bravado. No. He saw right through it all. The fact he didn’t push it further despite his obvious desire to pry astonished Y/N. There was a tenderness in his honey irises that made him seem almost normal--as if he wasn’t a daemonic entity or the Chancellor--but a simple man trying to find out what was ailing another human. 

Y/N shook their head, looking away from Ardyn, and started to cry. They quivered, feeling self-conscious about their actions. The last thing Y/N wanted was for Ardyn to see how miserable they were.

“What happened at the Quay?” Ardyn asked quietly. 

Y/N felt their throat wanting to close up. It was too painful to conjure what was spoken back into reality, but a dam had broke. Y/N needed to get it out. Let someone else share the burden, even if said person didn’t have a stake in it. 

“My friends,” Y/N began and sniffled. “They had been looking for me for a while. They were scared I got lost in Leide when they didn’t get any messages. I explained what happened at the caves with the goblin. They took one look at the scourge marks, and they--” 

Gods be damned… Y/N thought to themself as they gestured with their right arm as if trying to pull the words out from thin air. 

“They told me they cared but---I couldn’t even finish telling them what they meant to me before I was chased away. They tried to kill me. All of them were terrified of me like I was some sort of--a monster that came out of hell. They threatened to report me to the crownsguard if I didn’t leave. They wished me luck, but they couldn’t--couldn’t be around me. Cause I’m sick. I’m a walking plague.” 

Y/N wiped away at their eyes, shaking their head. “I’m not even mad at them. I just---I didn’t get to tell them I loved them. They wouldn’t let me even--none of it mattered. I’m scared. I’m scared and I thought they’d--I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m sick, and it hurts. It hurts so bad and I can’t--no one wants me. Letting me in, was a mistake.”

It took Ardyn a bit of time to process the weight of Y/N’s words, but when he finally passed through it all, he felt himself reminiscing. He could see it so clearly, his healer years. How he had been beloved and all it took was one crucial moment of weakness to be seen as a monster. The love his people had for him was conditional. Even if the heavens foretold all Ardyn had done to calm their suffering, the people would’ve found a way to turn up their noses. Much like Y/N’s so-called beloveds. Ardyn didn’t need to hear the full details of Y/N’s circumstances to register how miserable they felt then. The abandonment dwelled in the body and in the soul. He knew it all too well. 

Ardyn understood he was more than capable of going on a tirade about the fallacies of compassion. How giving of oneself leads to dismay and disappointment. How humanity just uses others to get ahead. He had a whole speech prepared, more than ready to tell Y/N the cold realities of their world and snap them back to reason, but he surrendered to something else. 

Ardyn scooted closer to Y/N. He wrapped an arm around their shoulder, then coaxed their body into his. It surprised him how little resistance Y/N displayed, and how fragile and warm they felt against his chest. Daresay the entities in his body felt a twinge of communion. Ease that both ignited the scourge and calmed it, sensing the presence of another of itself in need of strength. 

Two thousand years it had been since Ardyn embraced another soul. He shook at the nostalgia that snuck up in his mind. How familiar yet foreign it all was. He was further perplexed, feeling Y/N’s arms wrap around his form. Part of his face was in Y/N’s hair now, a subconscious instinct had him dedicating their scent to memory. As if it would be of great importance at a later time. He felt nauseous and warm; tongue-tied with racing neurons. 

“I could have them dealt with, you know,” Ardyn murmured his barbaric offer. Feeling Y/N’s tears and the dampness of their clothing stain through the material of his own attire. 

“I know you could,” Y/N muttered in between sobs. “I don’t need you to.” 

As tempted as Ardyn was to follow through with something insidious, he knew right then and there it was futile. This whole situation was strange, and the embrace was the only thing that made sense right now. 

Ardyn remained still for a while, giving both Y/N and himself enough time to process their respective ends. Eventually, he found the strength to pull away from them. He held Y/N’s gaze though, regarding them for a moment while observing they were no longer crying. Their eyes still carried their sorrows, but the sadness, for now, was under lock and key. 

“We should turn in for the night,” Ardyn finally spoke as he got up. He started walking to the door, not wanting to linger any longer than need be. “I’ll knock again when I have new clothes ready for you.” 

“Wait,” Y/N called out right as Ardyn’s left hand grabbed the doorknob and twisted. They watched while he paused, tilting his head to the side some as if lending an ear. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re hurt from earlier,” Y/N remarked. Though they couldn’t see underneath the layers of clothes Ardyn was wearing, they could smell the burns that were no doubt spread across his flesh, especially during the embrace. The pungent scent was akin to leather being tanned over a flame, leaving grotesque room to the imagination as to what ordeal Ardyn had been through. 

“So I am.” Ardyn’s voice was stoic as if he couldn’t have a care in the world regarding his ailment. “What of it?” 

“A deal is a deal,” Y/N said. “I took care of what I needed to do. I can rest in peace knowing that. You need the scourge in my body to heal yourself, otherwise, it's going to be a while. You could kill two birds with one stone tonight.” 

Though Y/N didn’t outright say it, Ardyn understood what they were driving at. If he took all of the scourge Y/N had into himself, it would be more than enough to patch up his body and quite possibly bring him back to full power. His scourge took to Y/N like a barrel of wine; containing the right environment for rich power to manifest. Y/N was open and willing. Ardyn could tell from their tone they had accepted the fate that had been ordained. There wouldn’t be a fight. 

All he had to do was act. 

“No,” Ardyn murmured. He couldn’t look them in the eye but did turn his head more. “Not that I am opposed to your sacrifice, but I’m not in the mood. We can reconvene our little arrangement at a later time when we’re both not dealing with heavy clouds above us.” 

“But our deal--”

“Which I intend to keep,” Ardyn interrupted. “Will happen promptly after I’ve taken care of several matters concerning our security.”

Y/N furrowed their brows, finding it peculiar at how quick Ardyn was to strike down the idea. “Do you at least want to feed?” 

“No,” Ardyn shook his head. “And do quit asking.” 

Ardyn left the bathroom abruptly. The door behind him slammed, causing Y/N to jump. They remained on the floor, legs tucked in close to their body while coming to terms with the new facts and one that stood out above all else: Ardyn was giving them another day at life. It wasn’t going to end there, in the bathroom. Life wasn’t over.

Y/N wasn’t sure if they should’ve felt relieved or miserable at the prospect. There was no doubt their body wanted to give in and perish, but the mind was still at odds with itself. Maybe…Y/N thought. Maybe there was a silver lining to this, they just hadn’t seen it yet.