#and keep in mind my tolerance is NATURALLY high

[littlerequiem]

LEVI/F!READER/ERWIN | ROYALTY AU | P. 1 OF 2

Having had enough of your father pushing suitor after suitor on you, you make a vow: before the night is over, you will experience pleasure on your own terms. But as the saying goes, forbidden fruit is the sweetest—and no fruit is more tempting than the one your two knights have to offer.

> Crossposted on AO3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader / Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+) - Royalty AU, Inspired by HOTD, Attempted Assault (not by Erwin/Levi!), Period-Typical Sexism, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Pining, Eventual Smut, Threesome, First Time (WC: 5.5k)

"Princess Reiss, her Royal Highness, First of her Name, and Heir to the Throne of Paradis!"

The attendant bellows out your many titles, the sound of which echoes in the great halls of your forefathers. 

In the distance, a crowd has amassed where your father sits on the throne. All eyes turn as you step in, and you realize there was a reason behind your lady's maid fretting over your hair this morning.

Your eye twitches. 

Another day, another suitor.

"This is Floch Forster, your Highness," the Hand of the King declares. He bows, gesturing towards your father's latest pick. "Lord of Utopia."

The man—Floch—runs a hand through his hair as you set your gaze on him.

He's tall, you suppose, and handsome enough, with a serious face and a firm posture. But he looks at you like some trifling prize to be won, and that makes your jaw tight. You will be Queen of the Realm one day—someone he owes allegiance to, not the other way around.

He won't do.

The meeting does not go well, and you send this Floch character on his way. You can tell he's displeased, what with the way he bristles and huffs like a peacock, glares at the floor like it had personally insulted him. You don’t care; you can't imagine a union with a man like him—someone who'd never see you as his equal, but try to undermine your influence and power every step of the way.

In truth, the prospect of marriage has never appealed to you. If it were up to you, you’d ascend the throne by yourself, and rule without the presence of some man who'd expect you to push babe after babe from your womb. But, of course, as a woman, you have royal duties to uphold.

"I will not tolerate you not marrying, daughter," the King warns later on.

You're now dining with your father in the main halls—alone, aside from the presence of knights and servants. You pay neither your father nor them any mind, digging into your vegetables solemnly.

"Do you have nothing to say?" your father grumbles. "Nothing to apologize for? This is the third match you send away! Soon, the realm will run out of suitors."

You lift your cool gaze at him. You know your father means well by introducing you to suitors, that he loves you in his own way. But the way he keeps on pushing man after man on you is simply suffocating. If you were to ever marry, you would much prefer for it to be with someone you actually cared about. You'd want for things to happen naturally.

But the future of the realm, of securing a bloodline, waits for no one, least of all for you. 

"I don’t see the issue here," you say all the same. “I will marry when I find the right candidate.”

"Yes, and when will that be? When I am dead and buried underground?"

You roll your eyes. "Really, must you be so dramatic, father?"

“You are the reason your father is so dramatic!” Now he stands. No longer is the look he sends one a father gives his daughter—no, this is the look that a king gives his subject. “My advisors tell me I am too lenient with you, but long have I ignored their plights. Now, I see that I have been blind.”

“And what of my plights, Father?" you hiss. "Do I have no say in my future? What if I wished to rule alone?”

“Your plights are of no consequence to the realm, foolish girl. A woman cannot rule alone.” Your father’s jaw locks, tight as a bowstring. “You will marry before this year is over. Is that understood?”

You scoff. "You cannot possibly—"

“Oh, but I can because I am your king and when I speak, my word is law,” he snarls, slamming a fist on the table. A jug of water tips over—neither of you pay attention to it. A servant scurries to handle the mess. “You either listen to me now, or I will force you down the aisle myself until you produce heirs of your own.”

His threat hang in the air. You feel its weight on you, like physical chains summoned around your wrists. It makes you grit your teeth, setting your glare onto your curled fists laid out on your laps.

The tension could be cut open.

You push your chair back, the feet rattling against the stone ground, and stand up. “Fine,” you sneer as you turn away, “breed me like a brooding mare, if that’s all you care about.” 

Your father grates out your first name. "And where do you think you're going? We aren't done."

"But we are!" You swerve your attention back on him, shooting him a look of absolute vitriol. You don't remember the last time you had such an argument with him. "I'm going back to my books, while I still have the liberty to read freely."

"Daughter—"

“—or will you take that right away now, too?"

At your words, your father's eyes gleam furiously; his voice is cold as ice. "This is not the end of this. You will marry, and if you don't make a choice soon, I will make it for you."

You say nothing in return, letting the echo of your scattered footsteps be the answer to your father’s penance.

As you exit the halls that night, you don't see the worried looks your two guards exchange as they follow you out. 

You’ve already got a plan brewing.  

You do not go back to your books.

As soon as you’re inside your chambers, you lock the door shut, only to hurl a nearby vase across the room. It shatters in a hundred pieces, but it gives you none of the relief you thought it might. With blood pumping through your veins; you heave like you just escaped an apex predator’s claws.

You grit your teeth. 

It’s all so unfair. That your father expects you to fall back into line, to do as he says, simply because he commands it. Has he forgotten the child you once were, or does he simply refuse to see the real you?

Damn him. Damn this whole system that cursed you the moment you were born. Another princess might have wept or accepted her fate, but not you. 

Tonight, you’ll break free. 

“Princess?” a concerned voice comes from the other side of the thick wooden door.

It is soon followed by two knocks, slow and firm. The voice belongs to one man, the knocks to another. Your guards.

"Leave me,” you tell them. “I do not wish to be disturbed,"

The two men, Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman, have known you since childhood . They understand you well enough to recognize that you're not actually fine, but thankfully, they seem to respect your need for privacy. Erwin lets you know they’re just outside the door if you need anything. You already know you won’t call for them. 

Not tonight. 

No, tonight, they can’t follow you down this path. Despite being lifelong friends, this journey is one you must make alone.

You eye the corner of your chambers. 

There is a secret passage just behind the bookcase of your bedroom. It is not known by many—just you and your guards. It is the same passageway you would often take to meet Levi and Erwin in secret, to watch them spar on the training field, to talk about books and dreams when all still seemed within your grasp.

It seems you must grasp one more dream for yourself.

The streets of Mitras are lively in the evenings.

Filled with jesters and children, dancers and sell-swords, merchants and entertainers, there is much that is happening tonight. The thick stench of sweat and mud, the taste of tart pie and mead, the sound of songs and gossip. It paints a study in the everyday lives of common folks.

On any other day, you might have stopped to observe your future subjects, but not tonight. As you make your way further down the web of the city, you feel equal parts thrilled and anxious. This is the first time you’re out without your guards, after all; you can’t help but feel bare without them. It makes you glance over your shoulders. Clad in a cloak with a dagger and bag strapped to your hip, you know to remain prudent. 

You’re on a mission, after all, one that is personal, and you do not wish to be stopped.

Sex.

The concept isn’t foreign to you. You know what coupling is; you’ve seen peaks of it in stories, behind closed doors. You know that sex isn’t simply something that people do to procreate, but that it is immense pleasure. Men and women do it, but also men and men, women and women, and all genders that come in between.

You think that this is what pushed you to step out of the comfort of your room tonight. Pleasure, with someone who would be willing to do it for you—not because you must, but because you both want to.

Only now that you’re here, you falter. The Perfumed Quarters, where you now stand, carry the finest brothels. You’re certain that with the coin you carry, you might find one that would be discreet enough to give you the pleasures you desire. Man or woman, you would have your pick.

But are you really daring enough to do this?

You close your eyes, fidgeting with your hands as you eye the entrance door. You had a glass of whiskey before leaving—some liquid courage for the road—but now, you suddenly wish you’d taken the entire bottle with you.

"Hullo there, pretty thin’," slurs a voice close to your ears. The stench of alcohol that permeates makes your stomach wrench. You glance up, meeting the face of a man gazing at you with clear interest. "My, y'ar quite the sight. Skin like velvet..."

He reaches out to touch your face, but you flinch back. 

"Dressed so prettily too, under that cloak... Are ya one of the whores working here, hm? An escaped rabbit from her cage?"

Your brows knit together. "You misunderstand, sire. I'm not a working woman. I simply—"

The man does not listen, seizing one of your wrists. Your brows scrunch low, and with your free hand, you grab the dagger, showing him you're no helpless thing. 

A callous bark rumbles out of him. “Is’tis part of the act, hah? The little rabbit has fangs, and I get to eat ya whole?”

Before you have a chance to show him just how real your fangs are, your peripheral catches a flash of silver. Before you realize it, a long blade, cutting the space between the two of you, brands a path dangerously close to the man’s throat. 

"Get your filthy hands off of her."

Your body freezes; you recognize that baritone tone. 

Sure enough, no later than a second after, your peripheral catches sight of Levi and his golden cloak. He’s the one delivering the threat, though you soon realize he’s not alone: Erwin, to his right, assesses the situation with a sharp gaze. 

Your lips part, eyes rounding at the sight of them. How they found you, you know not, but you know that you're in for one a hell of a talk.

"Golden cloaked guards from the palace." The stranger's eyes are wide with fear as he stares back at you. "But that means, you must be..."

"No one you need to concern yourself with," Levi says dryly, stepping in between you and the man, "now, I won't repeat myself, if you wanna live—scram."

The knot in the man's throat bobs uncertainly, but he seizes his chance while he still can—he scurries away. You scowl, watching his retreating form. You know Levi only let him go to avoid stirring attention, but that criminal deserved a lot worse than what he got. Under your rule, you'll make sure the people working these streets receive better protection from people like him.

You do not get time to consider this matter for very long, however, because you’re soon reminded of your guards' presences. You turn towards them, face devoid of emotions. 

Levi's eyes narrow. "Explain." 

“Not here.” Erwin steps closer to you as well, looking over his shoulder. “We’re drawing unwanted attention.”

Levi sheathes back his sword, his glare still directed at you. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

Despite their words, you stay rooted to your spot.

“It wasn’t a request.” Levi turns, clearly exasperated. He grabs your wrist.

You grit your teeth, glaring at him. You know better than to argue with either of them right now, but you don't appreciate him manhandling you like a piece of meat. 

“I will once you unhand me,” you hiss.

Levi’s gaze levels with you, looking at you like you were glass. He finally releases you, but not without his own flair; he crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you like he expects you to make a run for it, to fight him on this.

You roll your eyes; how dramatic. Even if you could somehow outrun them, your bravado for tonight has all but vanished. 

And so, you diligently follow them, with Erwin leading, while Levi walks behind you. Both of them are quiet on the walk back, the sound of their armors clinking through the cobblestone streets of the city. Neither wish to attract attention to the fact that they were escorting the future queen of the realm, heading straight into the castle's back way passage.

It is the calm before the storm.

"What the hell were you thinking, Princess?" is the first thing Levi says the moment he ceremoniously drags you into your chambers, hand firmly attached to your elbow.

Levi forces the cloak and weapon off of you, a glint in his eyes that makes it clear he's pissed.

You glare at him, ripping your arm away from him.

Out of your two guards, Levi Ackerman is always the one quickest to rile up. You think he has a bad temper and a mouth that ought to be washed with soap. For this reason, you often bicker with him, partly because you're often too prideful to admit defeat, but also because you secretly enjoy the banter.

Tonight, however, you do not have the will to fight.

"I do not know, Levi." You sigh, heading towards your vanity to place down your bag. "I just wished to wander by myself, I suppose." 

"Into the Perfumed Quarters? Don't you know what business goes on in that part of town?"

You whip your head around. "Of course I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Really?" Levi sneers. "Could've fooled me, Princess."

He pops the p in your title, just the way he knows you hate it. Your eyes narrow. 

"Let her regain her breath, Levi," Erwin interrupts, effectively breaking apart this building feud. He's made sure to close every door, every window, shut. He sidesteps the broken vase, the pieces of which are still scattered by the entrance. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

Erwin observes you, seeking to understand. He's different from Levi in that way. He's more patient, more calm than his counterpart. Still, under that mask of stillness lurks a cleverness that you've learned not to take lightly.

You hate this—hate that you've ended up caught red-handed by these two men, by your friends. How did they even notice you were missing? You thought you were being discreet.

Knowing them, they probably defied your orders and checked on you, only to discover your treachery. You sigh, cursing yourself inwardly. Out of everyone who might have caught you, why did it have to be them? This feels like a cruel joke from the Gods. 

The three of you grew up together. First as a girl and two young squires, later as a princess and her two knights. Yours is a relationship forged in friendship, in trust, in loyalty. Where the princess goes, so does her two guards. There is no one she trusts more.

You've heard the whispers over the years. The words that rivals in court like to spin—those who'd rather slit their throats than see a woman like you sit on the throne. A whore, the little birds whisper. A princess that dared to lower herself by opening her legs not to one, but to both her guards.

None of it is true, of course.

But perhaps it is the spirit from earlier that emboldens you, but you find yourself wishing it were, to at least have this part of yourself that would be yours.

"Earth to the princess of the realm," Levi's chastising voice echoes in your ears. One of your eye twitches. "What the hell were you doing tonight? Don't you know what those places offer?"

“Of course I know, Levi. Did you ever consider that I sought such an establishment for that exact purpose?”

“...What?”

It is no secret that Levi’s mother was a prostitute. You know he doesn’t see the job of a working woman or man as lesser, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look down on people who take advantage of workers and enable establishments from profiting off their labor. 

It must bother him, your words.

You try to soften the blow, because you don't want to lose his good opinion of you, whatever it may be. "I did my research, Levi. I picked one run by a woman, one that treats its workers fairly, with good compensations and living conditions."

"But, why the hell are you looking to... to go to a brothel? You've never… your chasteness—"

"Fuck my chasteness."

Levi’s brows knit together, though the rest of his face looks more in a stupor than anything else. You, on the other hand, are now filled with explosive emotions.

"Why did you seek such a place, your Highness?" Erwin finally speaks up, his smooth voice easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "Why not talk to us about it first?"

Your eyes flicker towards him. There's Erwin. Level-headed, calm, clever Erwin. Always asking just the question you most wished he didn't.

"Because…” you hesitate, “because I wish to know what it is like. I wish for things to be my decision for once, to decide how and where I..."

You close your mouth, feeling yourself growing hot. You know you shouldn't say these words to them. A princess shouldn't want pleasure. A princess shouldn't sneak off to seek a brothel. And a princess should especially not discuss such matters with her two male guards.

They both fall silent, which only renders the situation more awkward.

"You could have at least asked one of us to accompany you," Erwin suggests.

"Would you?" Your gaze is that of tepid coolness. "Would you have let me go?"

At that, both your guards seem a little torn. Levi's eternal frown hasn't wavered, while Erwin's eyes are intently on you, as if you were some puzzle needing to be solved.

You swallow, sitting at the edge of your bed, interlacing your fingers into a knot.

"You heard my father earlier. Soon, I will have no choice. I will marry. And I know it is my duty, I know it. But the idea of someone forcibly taking this part of myself before I am ready to give it up makes me ill. So yes, I went into town. Because I wanted to find this side of myself on my own."

Silence falls. You feel their gaze on you, heated and intense. You look at them. Their expressions tell you enough.

"You see," you say bitterly, "even if I had told you, you would have stopped me." 

Steps usher towards you. In a heartbeat, Erwin is kneeling in front of you, eye-level with you. His gaze speaks of compassion, of soft understanding. "It is because we worry for you, your Highness. We've known each other since all three of us were children. We do not wish to see you harmed at the hands of a stranger."

For some reason, Erwin's words make you glance at Levi. You wish to know if Erwin's words ring true. 

Levi clears his throat, a pout forming on his lips. "Princess, not every lover is created equal. You should... you deserve to know someone who pleases you."

Something heavy fills in your chest.

“And a brothel wouldn’t give that to me?” you ask in a crestfallen tone. “Aren’t they trained in the art of love-making?”

“That is not for us to say, or to judge,” Erwin answers. “But it doesn’t stop us from worrying.”

You stare at your bare hands, reeling them into a fist over your lap. This whole situation feels so deeply unfair.

“Tell me, why must my body be used for breeding grounds?” you ask, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Why must my value only be placed for what’s between my legs?”

Erwin stands back up, his presence a warm shadow on your side. To your surprise, both he and Levi take a seat next to you, with you in between them. 

"Princess, it is not for us to voice what is right or wrong." Erwin places a hand over yours; it sends jitters straight to your stomach. "But we wish for you to be safe."

Next to you, Levi interlaces his fingers on his laps. You can't help but notice how clean and well-trimmed his nails are, compared to even your own. How gentle his fingers look, amidst a sea of armor. You wish he'd place one of his hands on top of yours, just to feel both his and Erwin's touch at the same time. 

"You have known me since I was young,” you say. “Don't you grieve for who I used to be? Who I could have become? Why must I let some stranger do what he likes with me—”

You stop talking, feeling nausea churning in your belly. Clearly, you’re saying things you shouldn’t.

But this is Levi and Erwin. Somehow, with them, words always come out easier. With them, things have always come easier. Natural.

“Princess.” Erwin squeezes your hand. You still don’t look at him, but you admire his broad fingers, filled with scars that speak of past battles. “You know we will defend you no matter what. If your future husband forces you—”

"But what if I never want him? What if I want you both instead—"

You don't finish your sentence. Sandwiched between them, their breaths caressing your bare skin like silk, it's hard to think. 

To your surprise, Levi is the first one to speak up, "Finish what you were about to say."

Your eyes flicker to him. He's close. His gray eyes are relentless and charged, defying you to speak, like a great storm gathering in the distance. And his lips—

Are moving.

"Tell us," Levi says again, grating out your name. 

But you've never been one to say what you want directly—you've never been allowed to. Now that Levi is asking you to tell him, you hesitate. You raise a hand to your face, concealing your shame. "I'm sorry. I know that the two of you are, well, together. I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't know why I'm saying these things to you."

You know what the two of them are. Lovers. You know it to be true, because you see the way they look at one another, the way they talk. You’ve long felt envy in your heart—not at one of them in particular, but wishing you could be a part of it. Wishing that they would embrace you with open arms.

The truth is, you love them. You’ve loved them for a long, long time.

And you suddenly wonder: was this what you were seeking to find tonight? Did you simply search for them in others?

"Princess, we've both—" Erwin's voice beckons you back to the present. Your gaze falls on him. He tilts his head, smiling softly. "We have long known how we both feel about you. If duties and titles were shirked away, don't you know what we would have done by now?"

It is a bold thing he is saying—what a guard is saying to his princess. He could be exiled for such a statement, or worse. But Erwin has always been a bold man, one that takes gambles.

You just never thought you'd actually see the day where he would take a chance on you.

Before you can move, fingers slip between your own, filled with questions. You watch as Erwin carefully runs his thumb over your knuckles, gently turns your hand on his lap.

Instinctively, your head turns towards Levi, afraid that you'll find betrayal on his face for the way his lover is touching you. 

Wrong.

Instead, Levi's eyelids are half-lidded, an intensity to his expression as he assesses your every movement. It turns the spikes in your belly to butterflies.

"I..."

"Just say it." Levi says your first name again, like it was a prayer that would bring absolution to his sins. "Just give us the command."

But you do not wish for this to be a princess' command. You wish for it to be a woman and two men, bound in pleasure and feelings.

"I wish for your touch," you hesitate, "but not because I command it, but because you wish for it. Otherwise, let us never speak of this again. We can forget and—"

You mean to stand back up.

But a warm hand—Erwin's—snakes up to the back of your neck, forcing you to turn in his direction. 

And then his lips meet yours.

He kisses you. 

He kisses you... and your mouth parts in surprise, feeling a buzz of energy vibrate across your body, a path of tingling sensation scattering upwards like dozens of tiny birds flapping their wings. Erwin's kiss is chaste and innocent, like a schoolboy kisses a crush. Soon enough, he leans away, vibrant blue eyes gauging your reaction, and when you stare at him, slightly disoriented, he smiles.

He should have known you’d want more. You’re a spoiled thing, after all, used to the finer things.

Which is why you grab him by the collar and demand another kiss.

Erwin's chest vibrates as he chuckles, and his hands gently fall on your waist as he reciprocates the kiss. His lips open up to you, like a flower blooming under the sun. His thumb fumbles with the thick of your dress, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as you lean away.

A lopsided grin graces his lips and you can't help but return it.

"Forgetting about me, already?" comes a drawl from behind. 

You turn to Levi, amused at his impatience. He's got a brow raised, staring at both of you with a slight pout on his lips. The sight makes you stare back fondly. 

"I would never," you say.  

Levi’s flicker to your lips. Where Erwin was bold and self-assured, Levi is more prudent, like he thought you might catch on fire if you touch him. 

And so, you make sure to set you both ablaze by pressing your lips to his. 

For a moment, nothing happens, Levi just sits there, frozen.

And then, like a switch happening in his mind, Levi's hands fall to your jaw, his fingers winding into your hair, along your scalp. His restraint slips past him as he slides his tongue into your mouth, warm and alive. Your mind reels from the sensation, so different to Erwin’s softness. Levi tastes like black tea, the kind you always see him drink each morning. Levi pushes into you, making you bump against Erwin’s broad chest, and your heartbeat soars the moment you feel Erwin’s steady hands on your shoulders.

Who knew that kissing could feel so lovely, so intoxicating? Who knew what it would be like to feel the embrace of two lovers, of the two people your heart has yearned for?

Levi groans against your lips, his fingers cupping the valleys of your cheeks. Your movement pushes you further onto Erwin, forcing him to lie down as the bed creaks under your combined weight.

When Erwin chuckles, his husky voice vibrates against the back of your skull.

"Ngh —s-slow down, Levi," you huff. "I'm suffocating." 

"Can you blame him?" Erwin says languidly, the back of his fingers brushing across your exposed forearms. "You're a delight."

Levi finally slides away, his blown-out pupils taking in the sight. You, all disheveled, resting against Erwin, whose eyes gleam with knowing pride, with love. The knot in Levi's throat bobs. What a sight he has in front of him, for only him. 

With a swift hand, Levi undoes his cravat, neatly folding it and placing it on the nightstand. When he comes back at the end of the edge of your bed, he stands there, assessing you with hawk-like seriousness.

Shyly, you offer him your hand.

He takes it.

Without saying a word, you guide him back to his seat, nudging Erwin upright with your other hand. Slowly, you intertwine their fingers together, overlapping them on your lap. You watch with evident admiration at the marvel of golden, calloused skin blending with slender pale fingers, the expanse of their knuckles filled with scars that's a testament to their pledges as your knights.

A smile creeps on your face. Both your lovers watch as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows while they stay seated upright at the edge of your bed.

"Now it's your turn," you tell them, “… if you want."

Understanding flashes on their faces, though it manifests differently for each of them. On Levi, it comes across as perplexed hesitation, looking from you to Erwin, like he didn’t think you'd want to witness this. Erwin, however, seems to have seen this coming, because his mouth twitches as he bends down to capture Levi's lips with complete confidence.

Levi outright melts into Erwin's touch.

You'd long imagined the two of them like this, kissing. Hands exploring one and another, lips moving in perfect accordion, eyes fluttering shut.

But seeing it now , shared with you… it’s something else.

You love them. You love them so very much.

Because there’s so much adoration, respect, and mutual understanding to be seen here. Erwin’s patience, taking and enjoying, contrasted with Levi’s desire to be filled and devoured, all in the span of this little shared space that now belongs to the three of you.

When they break apart, you are certain your eyes are hazy with desire.

"We got a bit carried away," Levi mutters.

You hum. "I liked it." 

You swear a hint of pink kisses his cheeks.

"So we're really doing this?" Levi grumbles. His eyes gleam on you, dark and heady. "It is a sacrilege, what you are doing, Princess. You are debasing yourselves with two people who are far beneath your station. We are not worthy to defile you."

You frown, looking from him to Erwin, searching for an answer on how to make it right. Erwin’s face is blank, and you understand it is up to you to convince Levi, not him.

You reach out for his hand.

"Levi," you say softly, sliding up next to him. Behind, Erwin's fingers brush the nape of your neck, as if to praise you for this step. You look into Levi’s eyes, earnest and true. "In this life, there are not many things that will be mine to pick. So, please... would you be mine?"

Levi melts at your platitude, He takes in the rest of you. You, with swollen lips and hearts in your eyes, must look like quite the delight.

“The two of you are the same,” Levi says, leaning closer with vibrant eyes. “So damn corny.”

You let out a chortle that sounds more disbelief than it does laughter. Levi and his wild mouth. You still think it ought to be washed by soap, though you suppose that it’s got its charms. 

Levi leans back, removing his shoes. Next to him, Erwin chuckles, reaching to unclasp his own armor. Like a giddy young girl, you help them, picking up each piece of worn leather and laying it at the base of the bed, making sure it is all neatly ordered for them to easily dress afterward. Once finished, the two men then take their turns disrobing the outer layer of your dress, with Levi grumbling, “how do you even breathe in this thing?” until you are clad in nothing but your chemise.

You shiver. This is the barest you've ever been in their presence, a vulnerability that feels both thrilling and intimate. 

For safe measure, you lock the doors—this time, you know no one will interrupt. Only you, Erwin, and Levi have a set of keys.

When you turn back around, Erwin and Levi are both gazing at you, their eyes charged with an intensity that makes your chest lock. They inspect you like you inspect them, their eyes sweeping over your form. A lifetime of knowledge, of love, of duty, and honor, hangs behind this moment, this relationship. It pulses in the air, a recognition that this, right now, is a turning point for all three of you.

Because tonight changes everything. 

And you’re prepared to let it.

Next (and final) part coming next Thursday (:

— Masterlist / Fic Playlist / Taglist

[namgyunation]

Do you see Nam-gyu introducing his s/o to drugs or do you think he’d be the type to shield you from that type of thing?

cw; talking about drug usage and unhealthy stuff here

mmmm based off of my interpretation of him, i don’t think he’d really try to “shield” you. just doesn't seem like something he'd do

i also don't think he would gaf if you knew about his substance abuse. you're his s/o. if you're with him, he's prob thinking "this is what you signed up for when you got with me." i could see him hiding it from his family, but not you.

with a job like his, it'd be pretty hard to hide, anyways. if anything, i think he'd try to at least hide or be vague about the intensity of the drugs he takes and just how addicted / dependent he is on them. he'd probably try to convince you that it's just something casual that he does or brush you off if you display any concern

i could see him wanting to keep the details of his drug usage off your radar, but not because he’s like. concerned that he’ll be a bad influence or rub off on you, or anything. nor would he do it with the intent of trying to protect you or keep you "innocent" / drug-free.

i don’t think he’d enthusiastically be like “here baby, snort this!!! take this pill!!! ❤️” out of nowhere or straight from the jump when he enters a relationship with his s/o. he also doesn’t seem like the type of dude to go out of his way to share what drugs he’s taking or even just his emotions in general. he seems like he’d be very closed off and be more than happy to keep that part of his life from you if you never asked / pushed the issue.

i think he’d just want to avoid his s/o giving him a hard time: asking too many questions about what he’s doing, how it’s affecting him, his health, their finances, and their relationship, and/or trying to get him to stop. he just wants to do what he wants while still keeping you in his life. he doesn't want you to complicate or overdramaticize things with your concern. he knows what hes doing and can handle himself.

but i think if you expressed any sort of interest or vague curiosity, he might initially be shocked, find it amusing, and be surprisingly interested in the idea of introducing you to something, jokingly offer to get you stuff, though he genuinely would if you just straight up asked him to do so.

i think he’d find it interesting / somewhat exciting to see your first-time reactions to things and would find himself enjoying it more than he expected to somewhere along the way, though i don’t think he’d force it on you. if you wanted to stop, he would be cool with that and drop it immediately. it doesn't matter to him whether or not you do drugs or are on the same page as him. he's doing his thing, and you're doing yours. he wouldn't mind and would be just as open to it if you were to ask him about it again later down the line, though.

if you asked him to give you something and lead you through it, i think he’d derive some sort of enjoyment from knowing a lot about something that you don’t, being your sole source of information on the topic, and knowing he's the first and only person that you experience those types of things with.

i could see him being an obnoxious ass trip-sitter just because he thinks it's funny / even getting some sort of ego because of it.

eg. if you start off with weed, he’s laughing at you for coughing, not knowing how to inhale right, and/or making a stupid, exaggerated face when you exhale. when you overestimate your tolerance and get high as fuck, he’s purposefully putting stupid shit on the tv to gauge your reaction (maybe some dumb children’s cartoon or compilation of idk. plants growing timelapse), laughing at you when you're super focused on it (not mean, just teasing / amused), and maybe he takes a few selfies with you to tease you about it later. he would smoke with you, too, but purposefully stays mostly sober so he can take care of you. also, his tolerance is naturally way higher than yours, and i think he'd find it funny if you got high extremely quick.

he says shit like "oh, i invited your entire family and also a hundred of your friends over to the apartment, and they're outside right now. i hope you don't mind" just to get a funny reaction out of you.

he's not entirely mean, though, and despite having his fun, he still wanted to make sure that your experience was good and comfortable from the get-go. he thought ahead and set out snacks and drinks for when you inevitably got the munchies / dry mouth. he has a line up of funny things to watch and a blanket set out to make sure that you're fine. he doesn't leave you alone. even though it's just weed, he doesn't want to scare you.

he feels good and pats himself on the back for taking care of you. he probably enjoys knowing that in that moment, you're completely depending on him and looking at him like he has all the knowledge in the world. he deeply enjoys the fact that you trust him enough to rely on him and trust that you'll come out of the experience okay, because he's there.

nowww, getting on to other drugs outside of weed, i could see him being more serious about it and wanting to make sure that you're okay. he's open and more than happy to provide you with the things you're showing interest in. sharing his knowledge that's completely foreign and new to you and bringing you into 'his world' is satisfying for him, but once it starts to get a little more dodgy / serious, he's very firm on asking you if you're sure and asks a lot more questions. "what are you feeling?" "what do you see?" "do you need water?" "tell me what's going on." etc. he doesn't completely coddle you, but he's not going to leave you alone, either.

also, i was obsessed with breaking bad in middle school LMAO, so it's leaking into this post... sometimes when i think about nam-gyu, i can't help but think about jessie pinkman. there's a particular scene in the show where jessie's gf, jane, introduces him to heroin for the first time, and i think i could see nam-gyu being like jane in this particular scene, with jessie being his s/o that he's introducing shit to.

over time, if you continued to express clear, enthusiastic interest and prove to him that you could handle it, i think that's when he'd finally let himself relax and do drugs with you, rather than staying sober to monitor you. i think he'd grow accustomed to doing things with you, almost falling into a routine or having it be "your thing." he'd sneak things from work that other people gave to him or things that he was supposed to be giving to VIPs and bring it home to share with you. he'd find that getting high with you specifically was more fun for him than when he did it with others.

ending it off with something somewhat lighthearted: after a while, nam-gyu realizes that he's actually kind of excited to have a long-term buddy to get high with. he would start suggesting that the two of you smoke a joint and then go to the aquarium, art gallery, the zoo, etc. if he got something new, he wouldn't let himself try it and wait until he got home to be with you.

tldr; i don't think he'd shield you, but he wouldn't be super open about it either if you didn't ask or push him to talk about it. if you asked him to introduce you to it, he'd find himself oddly excited by the idea. he'd do it but would make sure to keep you comfortable and ask you over and over if you were sure once you got to the more serious shit. he wouldn't push it, either, in the case that you wanted to stop or were uncertain.

[hwnglx]

enhypen on cam vs. off cam

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

heeseung

on cam

nerves of steel. stable, patient, mild-tempered, agreeable. self-sacrificing, especially when it comes to the team. willing to give in and surrender for the group's sake. holds back and restrains himself a lot. grounded and down to earth. gives the team this significant and essential foundation of focus and practicality. he seems well-rounded artistically too, like the member who has the basic skills down to a tee.

off cam

not easy to satisfy. immensely high standards, good luck trying to have him be happy and content with.. anything, basically. i keep seeing him nagging and possibly micromanaging about minor things. also, can have his immature ways once he's in a negative headspace. more outspoken. will tell you things the way they are. more sensitive than what meets the eye. heeseung seems like the type to let out his inner negativity on others at times, which as a result he can blame himself for; this can cause even more dissatisfaction -> vicious loop here.. might have problems confronting and connecting to his emotions directly, chooses to run away from a lot of them. struggles expressing his feelings in a manner which accurately reflects his inner state of mind. goes back and forth between criticising and feeling sorry or guilty all the time. like he's in a constant inner turmoil.

jay

on cam

personable, easy to get along with. seems like the member who's best at creating parasocial relationships with the public. he's good at making you feel like you're connected, as if you're his friend. a lot of pride and smugness. knows what he can do for the team and isn't afraid to allow his confidence to shine. very much content in his element. can therefore bring a sense of positivity and optimism to situations. also, quite mature and reliable. good head on his shoulders. great business man. loves having people think he's “husband” material. like a grown guy with a strong sense of responsibility.

off cam

fancier. more out there and less restrained. likes showing off, and everything fancy and glamorous. is he the member who dresses up the most in terms of airport fashion? it's kinda giving that to me. seems proud of his fame and status. likes the feeling when people recognize him. more self-focused. cares about things like actively keeping up his popularity, making sure he's well-liked off camera as well. reputation is insanely important to this man. taurus energy is literally dripping from him. i could imagine him looking up his name a lot on social media. extremely ambitious. can get quite obsessive and lean on the gluttonous side at times. very “my way”. might go back and forth a lot, between trying his best to be charitable and accommodating with people around him, while also strongly holding on to his own values, principles and opinions. does not budge easily, you'll rarely catch jay being a pushover. stubborn as a rock once he's convinced about his opinion. more traditionally minded, holds beliefs that lean towards the more conservative side.

jake

on cam

youthful and bright, a childlike nature. sensitive to his surroundings with a dreamy quality to him, he can often find himself in a haze with his head in the clouds, i also heard “delusional”. at the same time, he can be very observant. quick wit. boldly speaks up when he feels the need to, and expresses himself bluntly at times. still presents himself as someone who's generally patient and tolerant, there's a bit of a hot and cold factor here. he's someone who seems calm and collected at first, but allows himself to step out of that once he feels strongly about something. jake can almost be like a child at his most emotional, but quiet and balanced once he's in work-mode. very hardworking, a diligent person who's continuously striving to reach higher goals and willing to put in the necessary effort.

off cam

passionate. gets random sparks of energy and motivation. definitely a “p” in terms of mbti. he's the type to feel strongly about e.g. a random hobby he found and obsess over it, just to get over it after a few days. burns hot once his inner fire erupts, but calms down just as fast. pours a lot of himself into every endeavour he faces. also gives off quite an individualistic and independent vibe, he doesn't really enjoy depending on other people to get things done for him. prefers doing it himself. detaches himself from people a lot of the time to gain a sense of inner balance. easily affected by his surroundings, especially by people's different energies. therefore needs his private space and alone-time to recharge. can be surprisingly introverted. a lot of internalised anxiety he tries his best to release when on his own. not someone to allow his inner stress to stand in the way of his work though. quite perfectionistic and hard to please in regards to himself.

sunghoon

on cam

chill, laidback, comfortable. easy to be around. not very reactive; in control of his emotions, rarely allows things to enrage him. and if he does, it's usually done in a tactful manner. i'd be surprised to ever catch this man fully lose grip on his temper while cameras are rolling. very mature as well, he knows how to present himself in a manner which shows off his best sides only. a lot of quiet but strong confidence he radiates to the outside. he's self-assured, and knows where his charm lies. a lot of natural charisma. his energy is very.. “i know i don't need to do much for you to like me.” like he's aware of the strong effect his presence can have on people.

off cam

good understanding of business. very protective of his career and what he's been able to build for himself. cautious about keeping it in tact. can be quite self-focused in that regard. can be much more “me me me” than you'd think, does desire and enjoy the spotlight to a degree, though he isn't obnoxious about it. i heard “don't ruin my moment” he doesn't like people getting in the way of his plans, feeling entitled to command him around, etc. very much a free spirit who doesn't enjoy having to majorly concern himself with others. careful and guarded when it comes to his private matters; draws a clear line between his professional life and personal life. adamant with his boundaries, i suggest not to cross them. holds grudges and stores much of his negativity inside, rather than letting it out. doesn't come without his insecurities, but they're likely to be so buried down, that he might not be entirely aware of them himself. generous, giving and supportive in his nature though. will offer a helping hand if he feels like someone is in direct need of it.

sunoo

on cam

another member who's quite conscious of his image and what he chooses to display to the public. wants to present himself in the best way possible. like i can see him straightening his back and stroking his hair out his face once the cameras start rolling. can slip in and out of conversations or situations depending on if he cares enough lol. quite intentional about when he speaks up, and when he stays put. although he can have his stand-out moments, usually sunoo prefers just blending in and not pulling too much attention to himself. knows he needs to go with the flow of the people around him, and stays balanced, as well as peaceful when cameras are on.

off cam

the type to work harder when people aren't looking. very much invested in continuously developing his skills and talents and improving his abilities. the type to plan out certain longterm goals for himself in his head without telling anyone, since he doesn't see the need to. for sure more focused on himself.. all i sense is him thinking about his own life. doesn't really concern himself with the group as much, has his eyes on his own path. this can also lead to him dealing with a lot of his negative emotions by himself though. someone who's more used to to withdrawing, and therefore more comfortable isolating himself when struggling. i can't shake the feeling sunoo feels like enhypen isn't the place that enables him to shine as much as he could. like his potential just isn't being fully realized. might feel quite stunted artistically and creatively because he has to match himself to six other guys. there's some pent up frustration here, and i don't really see him having much of an outlet for it. i can also sense some fear regarding his actual ability to stand on his own though; so he can easily feel lost. he doesn't feel like a true part of the group, but can also lack the substantial belief in himself to take steps in the other direction.. very pisces mars of him; he thinks of the idea of doing certain things, but often doesn't decisively act on it.

jungwon

on cam

worthy to note, that all i could think about was the group. he's very much aware of the unique responsibility that comes with being the leader. wants be a person of compassion and empathy for the team; someone who gives them the feeling of comfort. a resting place they can seek in times of stress. not only does he want for the members to be able to talk to him about anything, he also wants to be a source of confidence and inspiration. for the team, and in general. jungwon can often feel the need to remain strong and powerful for the sake of his group. i got reminded of this one quote bada lee once said about her dance team “if i fall apart, you guys will too” jungwon might relate to that in a way. he feels like the main guy pulling the ship forward. at the same time, there's some light and fun energy too. he doesn't want to seem too serious and strict all the time, and also make sure the atmosphere is enjoyable and lively for everyone. a little bit like a cool dad, lol. which is cute since he's the second youngest.

off cam

more business-minded. someone who's always making sure the professionalism is on par, everyone is aware of their jobs and does them orderly. can definitely get sharp-tongued and harsher with his words, if he feels the need to. will give you the reality checks you might be afraid of but are in need of to grow. his intentions are pure; he's just clear in what he expects from people and might not be the best at expressing it in a way that's more digestible for softer hearts. i can sense some fear in him of things going south for the group, so he's very protective over the place they're at now. will definitely be the one stepping up to argue if anyone dares to badmouth them. similarly to jay, he's also a member who can be quite focused on keeping his reputation up. might have a bit of an ego that gets in the way of him being easier to get along with though. i do see his ego being on the side of more quickly damaged, which can result in him getting defensive quite fast. make no mistake, he feels very protective over the group, but it's also because in his eyes, the course enhypen takes is largely reflective of how well jungwon himself is doing as the leader.

ni-ki

on cam

relentlessly hard-working, constantly trying to improve and striving for the top. someone who's just in his element when in work-mode. laidback and reserved. observant and attentive. usually keeps more to himself unless he needs to work. i see him being immensely perceptive, and sensitive to energies around him, which is why he can often consciously choose to detach himself. i got reminded of the quote that says “observe but don't absorb” a member who seems more uncomfortable about all the attention and eyes on him. prone to getting overwhelmed easily. the lines for on and off cam were more blurred for him. i don't see him being good at putting on a mask for the public, as much as he just chooses to stay quiet. it's like, if he doesn't showcase too much of himself, people have less things to judge him for. plus less things that distract them from what's important; his artistry. very professional. wants to primarily be seen and recognized for his work and craft. i don't see him enjoying fanservice, aegyo and silly stuff like that.

off cam

more self-conscious than what meets the eye. not easily satisfied, sees himself as a continuous student of his craft. very protective of his possessions, and focused on himself. can often feel like his work is the only thing he really knows and is good at, so he can be overly fixated on it. the type to get married to his work, to be honest lol. similarly to sunghoon, he doesn't like anyone rubbing their nose into his business. (the two sags, not surprising) can often crave a sense of control and stability in his life, and doesn't want people from the outside meddling in it for that reason. if ni-ki made a plan for himself, best believe he will go through with it till the very end. still, quite fair-minded. i don't see him being extremely greedy persé, but moreso holding himself to higher standards from the very beginning. wouldn't want to steal away anyone's opportunity, but wants to already be established enough, that he'd be first the choice anyway, if that makes sense. can feel trapped in his mind once he gets to a place of overthinking, and subconsciously set himself limitations that don't have to be there.

[zeyris-daydreams]

Jade Dragon’s Iron-Clad Camellias [3]

Dan Feng x Reader 

[ao3] or #df-camellia on my profile!

There are things which you always finish first, mostly those you don’t enjoy.

Buying groceries could prove hard at times, and so you were reduced to three locations ran mostly by servants of richer Xianzhou natives. You had time in recent days to come by, given the newly remade schedule of your work—something rather pleasing. Seeing your own, despite the differences, was as comforting as it could be infuriating.

Metals and ores needed for forgery were more accessible than back then, thanks to the image of the figure you’ve created; life was slowly mellowing out, certain things just needed to be dealt with faster than the other ones. Groceries before your hobbies, and then gathering before forging.

The new spear was what proved to be a nuisance.

A weapon of this caliber could take months to be done(proven by the many weapons you’ve created since owning the forgery), then again Dan Feng was offering what he claimed to be a special sort of treatment. And, despite his constant pestering about the smith, the weapon was slowly being finalised.

It would be easier -and faster- if he didn’t insist on intruding. You could not let anyone see you work—not only were you not Yingxing, you also didn’t have a license; something that could only be signed off by an immortal supervisor. While technically Yingxing was such a figure, he could not help you. After all he would have to come and present himself to authorities, something he couldn’t possibly execute from the confines of your skull.

The sound of bristles echoed and muffled your thoughts as you swept away the leftover pieces of metal chiseled the night before, the floor creaking after each step you took. The dim light long became your friend, eyes having adjusted over the years of darkness—each sweep of the broom cleared some of the wooden floor, although it was stained beyond repair.

You didn’t bother washing it anymore.

The sound of your sweeping and your footsteps was joined by a soft ring floating through air, its voice as annoying as it was soothing. You only tipped your head towards the entrance, and Dan Feng’s face softly tilted towards the upper corner of the doorframe.

”One was not aware of a bell before.” He noted, and he was correct. The bell was but a recent development, after tiring days of tolerating his presence.

You were made aware of his figure thanks to the small item you've made at least—that was the intention. Making yourself stand properly, you leaned the broom against the darkened wall of the forgery, keeping your hand on it still. The furnace did not spit heat today. All the fire in the room was the fire in your mind.

“We are closed. Cleaning day.”

The Vidyadhara glanced at you, at your broom, and then towards the furnace. “While One’s weapon is queued up?”

You took a deeper breath in, hand tightening against the item. It was rough to the touch, a new broom not yet smoothened down. The wood bit into your skin unpleasantly—irritating the scarred inside of your palm, knuckles nearly turning white.

“I don't question Master’s choices.” You lied through your teeth. Working on the new spear proved to be difficult due to constant intrusions, and you've long decided to not work at it during daytime. It appeared that you really would not come back to your natural schedule unless the weapon was done. You’d have Dan Feng off your shoulder.

That's precisely why nothing was prepared for forging. The tools hung like they were hanging before, everything as clean as it could be in those conditions—only a fool would believe any craft was done today.

Dan Feng nodded. “That's a shame. Ask on One's behalf about the state of the spear then,” he spoke as clear as ever, tone commanding. It made you want to get out of your skin. “One shall gather the news next time.”

For a High Elder of Vidyadhara, power was all that mattered. Same went for Dan Feng, both because of his need for combat, and for the preceptor’s need for authority.

The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, falling out unintentionally.

“High Elder, why show up personally?”

It was something he did not expect to be asked.

You knew what he must've believed himself to be, Inhabitant Lunar Dan Feng—the Higher Elder of Xianzhou Loufu’s Vidyadhara, or some even more elaborate of a title.

He had servants at his side, and he was of importance according to other immortals of Xianzhou. So, why show? Why try to put in all this effort?

You bit the inside of your cheek, the bastard must've thought that he was lowering himself to the people's level by coming here. He must've assumed authority, did he believe doing that would bring his weapon any more effort?

“It is a serious matter for One.” Was all he said.

Alas, a client is a client.

—

The news of the forgery spread like water after the tsunami, reaching the ears of the Scalegorge Waterscape, and the Sea Palace.

New talents in Loufu were nothing unseen. Within his life, the High Elder witnessed the rise and fall of many; spare for this one. Weapons which are unique and not mass produced, tailored. Swift and merciless, especially against dealing with those mara struck.

Weapons which hurt.

No ordinary person could afford such a commision—novel yet expensive, another part which seemed to tickle his already hoarding-oriented senses. After a reconnaissance ordered by the High Elder, he was informed that the forgery did not accept all commissions, either.

An exclusive treat indeed—something elusive, uncommon. Right for the Vidyadhara’s taste; considering the many items lining the Palace and the ‘gardens’, he simply could not think otherwise.

A rare pearl within his necklace of many, something so simple, yet necessary.

The High Elder was faintly aware of his tendencies to have and wield. Such is the fate of a Vidyadhara after all; leftover traces from their Draconic predecessor, little quirks and needs which could show right away, or take a timeline to unravel.

One of those traits for Dan Feng was his inability to tolerate certain things; rejection, events out of his control and especially—whatever it is that he cannot have, cannot know.

Whoever Yingxing believed himself to be, he could not be as important as to omit the High Elder’s gaze. And so, once a servant delivered the news, Dan Feng felt.. strange. Years have passed since someone last declined the offer made in his might and benevolence—it was unthinkable to even consider it happening.

“His assistant has said—“

The Vidyadhara pulled his hand up, his sleeve spilling downwards to pool at his elbow.

”It does not matter, then. You’re dismissed.”

Curt and to the point, but Dan Feng needed no explanation. His invitation to meet in the palace was rejected, and now he was left to figure out exactly what went wrong. Something akin to burn in his chest, a heat in his veins and a tight grip on his mind. The Vidyadhara was unable to identify what the feeling was, and as such chose to resolve the matter personally.

After mulling over it for longer than necessary, he rose from the carved seat, leaving the hall. The walk towards the exit was lined with high ceilings and plasters lining the edges, pillars and tiles. The surrounding area—usually lined with turquoise—shimmered in many different colours, each window composed of thousands of shards. Parts of it bore a different shade, stuck together with gold-like metal.

His steps echoed, and he didn’t face the many decorations, and he didn’t stop to appreciate the doors either, pushing through till the sun temporarily blinded him. Dan Feng’s pupils thinned visibly. If the smith refused to meet him, he would stoop down to meet his level.

Persistence always paid off. Something preceptors taught him, and something he learned himself. To have is to persist, be it in hard work or otherwise—Dan Feng was no stranger to that.

But how long can you throw the bait, if the fish learned what it is?

He has tried before, through extending an invitation by his own servant. And then he went as far as to extend an invitation through an assistant, having to leave Scalegorge Waterscape solely to do it. He, in his expensive silks and thick fragrances, has come and found nothing that he looked for—something that didn’t improve no matter his frequent visits. Catching the smith off guard proved to be futile.

The High Elder was a moderately busy man. Managing the affairs of Vidyadhara and controlling the council of preceptors, paired with seeking an utmost appropriate weapon. He was used to reaping results, and for the first time in forever he was left with neither results, nor the strange ease he felt when getting them—the more he tried, the more it evaded him.

Day after day of him trying, his focus was no longer the weapon.

It was the elusive figure of a mystical smith. Because Celestinae and Foxians might have given up—but not him. Not a vidyadhara, and certainly not the High Elder who oversaw everything relating to the affairs of his people; especially not Dan Feng, whose first and foremost trait was not just ambition, but determination.

From results came a thrill, and this time, it was not here. Something so obvious that he was used to; tilling the land brings fruits most ripe and sweet, but the flowers withered before their transformation, leaving Dan Feng to look at the petals scattering in the winds.

Enough was enough.

A man who had what he wanted, was a man who never let things slip. Be it minor crimes, or antiques from ancient eras left by his predecessors. Dan Feng remembered how he felt then—when he was entrusted with the relics of Vidyadhara. A heavy stone from his heart, thrown off temporarily.

And now it was back, weighing not just as stone, but as a boulder.

He’d find that little Celestinae smith and teach them a firm lesson of subordination. No one rejects High Elder’s request; not another Vidyadhara, not a Foxians, and definitely not a Xianzhou native.

With the need for justice came his shift. Dan Feng no longer only cared about the weapon; a man so picky and hard to please—no, he did not need the weapon. He needed something he could not have, something far more pleasing than a spear. He needed Yingxing—and, once he had him, then he’d get his weapon.

The more Yingxing ignored his appeals, the more firm in his goals he became. Because who are you to reject your High Elder’s request? As if he was nothing—as if he did not matter.

It took time to find space for extracurricular activities, but he was no stranger to waiting for his trap to catch. It would not be enough to have a third party drag the smith to his feet for judgement; it was personal now, after all the chances he’s been given.

Dan Feng could bet his tail and a horn that this was deliberate.

With an excuse of a simple stroll, the High Elder descended from Scalegorge Waterscape to the Loufu’s main area.

The streets were spacious, occasional buzzing of the lanterns being the only thing that accompanied his steps over the wooden surface. He stood out like a beacon in his white vest and long sleeves, the night sky clear yet dark all the same. It was better on his eyes at least, and he could comfortably look around without having to squint. If it was up to him, he’d rather be nocturnal.

On his way to the forge he noticed many things, one being the absence of light in people's windows, and the lack of their colour. So unlike his, plain and see through. It was late—a load of time after midnight, but he didn’t know how much exactly.

Another thing was the trinkets, usually laid out near the doors, conveniently hidden in shadows—his palace was always full of light, even at night. Then again—this was the common folk he was dealing with.

Third, and likely most agitating, was the sound from the forge. Just as he had expected—if Yingxing never shows up during daytime and yet the progress is made, it must mean he works when no eyes can see.

Truly a cunning subject he was.

His steps were light, something hot bubbling in his chest, and his eyes involuntarily narrowed the more he thought about it. Despite the closed windows, the light—although weak, was fairly visible. And frankly, the echo of metal against metal was enough to prove his theory.

Dan Feng has thought about this for many days, weeks. Maybe even a month. Has it been a month already? More? He never counted time, why would he?

His approach was measured, stepping shy of the entrance, as if sliding between the grass in wait for the prey to make a move. All that was left for the snake to do was to slip inside. His hand slightly shifted towards the handle. And as always before, he twisted it, his touch delicate—to seamlessly open without a sound.

Dan Feng’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the doors. He gave it one more go, but they did not move, and the bell did not ring.

His throat felt tight, and for a moment an overwhelming feeling overtook his mind, creating something akin to a thought spaghetti, where he could no longer see where each string started and began.

The doors were locked.

Not only personal anymore, no, this was deliberately directed. His fingers slowly tightened against the knob, his knuckles turning paler than they were before. High Elder’s eye twitched.

He was no stranger to trickery, and while he wished things were easier, they evidently weren’t.

With a sharp move his other hand moved behind his head, long fingers gripping onto the metal hairpin that held parts of his hair. The black locks spilled free, perfectly straight despite their former confinement, going over his shoulders, while some neatly fell onto his back, covering the intricate design of his clothes.

He did come here with a purpose—if he was to show himself to the ever-elusive smith, he needed to look his best. Perhaps out of the sheer need to establish an authority, even if it was first meant to be an outer one; it would be useless to try and show it through actions, Yingxing clearly had no care for his status.

Dan Feng’s eyes lingered on the long pin, looking at its design, the branches sticking out from the end to create a pattern of a tree, accompanied with gemstone flowers at the ends. For a moment his gaze lingered.

The High Elder refused to think about it more than necessary. He shoved the sharp end of the pin right into the lock, a simple lock really—thick and rusty, aged. No later than that he let go of the knob, pointing his straightened palm parallel to the doors, turning it. Being the High Elder of vidyadhara gave him many tricks indeed, perhaps this would be considered abuse of power.

But the preceptors weren’t there to nag over his ear like old consorts, and a soft click was all he heard, right before—

The half of the hairpin that stuck out of the lock suddenly tilted downward with a ring, the metal which Dan Feng hadn’t realised to be fragile was now snapped. His eyes widened, and his fingers twitched, palm slowly curling into a fist.

Parting with one of his favourite hairpins wasn’t something he expected today. But, if it had to be sacrificed, then he had no regrets—well, it wasn’t all done for.

Yingxing owed him this; a repair would not be difficult.

Dan Feng pulled the metal out of the lock, holding it in his hand. And then he stared at the doors, ones he knew were unlocked, and he hesitated.

His chest felt a little tight, and something he hasn’t felt in a while bloomed in his mind. Last time it happened, he was still quite a youngling, boarding a Starskiff for the very first time in order to learn it. It wasn’t a sense of fear, but a sense of excitement. An eagerness to explore, to feel the unknown.

The High elder felt similar now, but he hesitated. He hesitated because it was too easy. He hesitated because it almost felt like cheating. This was no feat at all, and if anyone saw him on the street right now, he’d become a laughing stock. His mind whispered a simple answer; desperate.

His eyes narrowed once more; no, no. Why should he care? He is Imbibitor Lunae, the High Elder of Vidyadhara. He is Dan Feng.

With a final inhale he twisted the handle slowly, pushing the doors open. His hand shot up, using his innate talent of Cloudhymn to silence the bell before it even moved. The first thing he felt was the rise of temperature.

Near darkness, spare for the furnace and the light that hot metal emitted. The shadows around Dan Feng flickered like a candle’s flame, an occasional crackle accompanying the otherwise rhythmic thudding. Sharp noise, again and again, no longer dulled by the doors. Metal against metal, and the smith did not hear nor see him.

The air was thick with heat, weighing down on his lungs as he pressed on, his steps slow and deliberate until he finally saw the other end of the forge, where all the noise started. Where the artist was hammering, robed in tradition and dressed in work and mysticism, with an imposing stature deserving that of a smith. A man lost in the heat of work and ambition—surrounded by embers and flame.

Yet this is not what he saw—his eyes widened in bewildered surprise.

The assistant. Alone. Hammering away—measured and precise, unfaltering and confident. The Vidyadhara remained silent, his hand moving to the wall so he could seamlessly lean into it, melting into the shadow.

Each move was filled with confidence, hammer pulled upwards just to crash down again, over and over, timed. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing or regret. He watched each motion—not wasted, not random, but utterly and truly purposeful.

Dan Feng would’ve assumed the assistant to merely play with metal when the true smith was gone—a theory shattered instantaneously when the assistant turned the metal over to continue their craft.

Not clumsiness he expected no, it was skill and precision. Dedication you only get after many times of practice—efficiency.

Dan Feng felt a spark of fire in his throat, burning at it like an amber, his eyes narrowing from mild irritation. He’s been tricked—many times. Because you were no mere messenger. You were the smith.

And as his feelings simmered, he allowed them, his eyes not once leaving the figure in front of him. The anger inside Dan Feng made way for intrigue, and instead of speaking up like he should’ve, he left his lips sealed for what felt like a moment too long.

But he could no longer. High Elder pushed off the wall, taking a deliberate step into the light. No later than after he has spoken, your shoulders tensed. The hammer wasn’t raised for another strike, the upper half of your body twisting just enough to see him.

”Yingxing.”

[eternalterror]

pick-a-card: your biggest strengths 💥

• take time to breathe, focus and clear your mind.

• when you feel ready, ask yourself “what are my biggest strengths?”

• if you feel drawn to multiple piles, read them both/all. if you don’t feel drawn to any, then this pick-a-card isn’t for you.

please let me know if any of this resonates! feedback is greatly appreciated! ❤️

Image 1:

- you recognize your own greatness

- you have good street smarts

- you aren’t afraid to be different and go against the popular opinions.

- you’ve learned how to carry yourself and handle things through your life experiences

- you’re good at guiding yourself and others

- you are able to accept things for what they are

- you aren’t afraid to go through major changes to make way for new beginnings

Image 2:

- your natural beauty

- your good hearted nature and habit of breaking toxic behavior patterns

- your “only god can judge me” type of mentality

- your independence and uniqueness. you’re quite original.

- your willpower, you aren’t the type to fall victim to destructive addictive habits, and if you do, you kick them easier and sooner than most.

- your ability to see things from another perspective

- your faith in the universe or god (although I’m leaning towards god/religion here)

Image 3:

- your adventurous spirit

- your devotion to developing spiritually

- your discipline

- your ability to take the lead and guide others with ease

- your storytelling abilities

- your understanding that money can be destructive as much as it is beneficial, you won’t get swept away by greed.

- your soulfulness

- your passion and devotion

- your loving personality and enthusiasm towards love and other people

- your appreciation of what you have and your appreciation for others

Image 4:

- you have a healthy vengeful spirit, you won’t let people get one over on you or your loved ones

- you aren’t afraid to act first and go after what you believe in

- you’re confrontational

- you may have trust issues or are skeptical of others, but for good reason. it’s protecting you. keep it up.

- you really do keep the snakes away, a lot of the cards are focusing on how good it is free yourself from negative people and destructive social groups, don’t ever feel bad about this.

- you’re a genuinely generous person

- you are tolerant and understanding

- you are respectful and gain a lot of respect in return

Image 5:

- you’re resilient and can handle a lot of mental stress and pressure that would make most crumble

- you can push your body/mind to the limit. this may not be a good thing, but it’s carried you far. learn to take a step back to recuperate though.

- you’re good at coming up with solutions to peoples problems

- you’re strategic and creative yet practical.

- you help people in a way that they’ll appreciate in the long run

- you’re good at going through the motions. highs and lows.

- you know how to make people feel like family or like you really cherish them

- you know how to go with the flow

Image 6:

- you can be very business-minded

- you have good senses and can pick up on things

- you really just don’t let things go over your head

- people think you have boss energy or leadership potential and may treat you as such

- you aren’t afraid to experiment and try things over until you get it right

- you aren’t predictable or conventional

- you aren’t the type to easily be peer pressured or bossed around

- you’re daring and bold with a fighting spirit

- you stand on what you say and can defend your own beliefs

- you have a lot of determination

[havenesc]

i wish i had an actual question to ask but. i just keep rotating horse girl rancher jason in my head like......... you got it. how does it feel to be SO right <3 sooo if you wannaaaa, i'd love to read any hc or thoughts you might wanna say!

(the jason rancher au)

hiiiii anon!!! i'm so happy you're enjoying rancher au and i'm always happy to yap :^) i figure i'll talk my shit about horses -- i'll have official designs later when i have More Time but for now!! my thoughts!!

Blue is Jason's borrowed horse, a blue roan foundation-bred QH. He's an honest worker and he rarely complains; he's the ideal ranch horse, though not the fanciest with all the neat little polished buttons. Nobody really Actually Believes Jason when he says he knows how to ride, and Blue is the babysitter that won't get him absolutely murdered on Day 1. Blue doesn't mind -- he's good-natured about mistakes Jason makes, and Jason is very careful when he's aware of them. Blue's biggest vice is personal space and using Jason as his complimentary scratching post, which Jason actively encourages. (Note: generally not advised.)

Barbie is Laura's god awful meaner than Satan, probably-subsists-off-of-Devil's-Claw-Supplement mare. She's a wild mix of Appaloosa/Thoroughbred/Percheron, so she's stout but a little fucked up proportionally. She's a dark bay blanket appaloosa pattern. She hates men. She has mauled cows. She has torn down fences and gone after other horses for their food. She is the buffer in between the guys tagging a calf and an aggressive mama cow. If anybody else had her bill of sale, they would have taken her to the dog food plant already for a more purposeful meaning in life, but Laura is Insane about this horse. That's her pretty princess, you bitch. If anything happens to this mare Laura will kill everyone in the room and then herself.

Toast is a fancy little cutting-bred QH gelding that Goose has as a sale project. He is very young, barely-broke, and thus a coward -- if you don't ride him every day he gets cold-backed and will attempt to murder both himself and whoever climbs up on him. He's genuinely trying to learn how to be a good ranch pony. He's also very succinctly named Toast because he's a little sooty buckskin. Goose is adamant that he's only keeping him for the year to put the miles on him, but he is so damn endeared by this little horse that everyone is calling his bluff.

Scout is Kacey's QH/Thoroughbred cross, or an Appendix! She's a classic brass chestnut with four white socks and a cute little snip, and the sweetest beanie baby in the barn. A goody two-shoes, lowest on the pecking order. She's very tolerant of Kacey's bullshit when it gets boring on cattle drives and she's one of those horses that you can let anybody climb up on her. She's very green, like Toast, and still watchy/spooky, but she's also the kind of horse who will put her head in your lap and stand there for hours. She's everybody's dream horse and the guy who sold her to Kacey is still mad he let her go.

Cisco is old man McLaren's somewhat-green QH gelding. He's a buckskin tobiano with a little bit of an attitude problem, but not in the "I'll kill you and your whole fucking family" way like Barbie -- he just wants to know you mean what you say and you're willing to put the work into the partnership. He can be stubborn and has a pretty high self preservation and he, god love him, does NOT like Jason. He wants nothing to do with that dead-but-not-dead guy. Jason will never ever be able to catch him if he's in the field; the one (1) time he does, you best believe he's colicking.

[kamjkaze]

Some Andre HCs cause I feel like I understand my baby the most.. TW: eating disorders

I think Andre struggles with anorexia as a means of having control over his life. If pried about it you’ll learn he genuinely does not believe he has disordered eating. He will fast for days on end to simply feel like he has a grip on his own reality.

I think his brain still thinks I’m german and when he’s only around his family for awhile he fumbles a little when translating his thoughts into English. Cal, naturally makes fun of him for this.

When he’s very sleepy and keeping himself awake his brain defaults to German and Cal usually just goes along with whatever Andre is saying.

Cal and Andre are super different in how they go to sleep. Andre can force himself to be awake for hours even if he’s barely lucid. But Cal, once he’s out, he’s out.

Andre is a mega computer nerd and begged his parents for that little computer for a full calendar year before he received it. He loves to tinker with it and I think once when he was younger his tinkering went too far and he broke something inside it. His dad got suuupppeer pissed and threatened to throw the whole thing out if Andre was so comfortable with breaking the things he bought him. , thankfully Andre fixed it with a bit of reading and stressing

Andre is a terrible skin picker. He has acne as it is but he will poke and prod and squeeze and scratch at all the little bumps on his face. The fact he has dirty man hands all up in his open ass acne is not doing the problem any favors

Andre still struggles with his own religious identity and never fully dropped the idea of Judaism from his mind, even on zero day.

I think he actually enjoys working with his dad, I think he’s a daddy’s boy as it is but being able to be out of the house and actually social with his father most nights is really good for him. Many of his doubts for zero day occurred while he was at work with his father.

I think Andre is very sensitive to weed and cannot handle himself very well with getting high because the Goldilocks zone of “this ain’t shit” to “throwing up and greening out” is so small for Andre. As opposed to Cal who hasn’t taken a tolerance break in the four years he’s been smoking.

This is the opposite for drinking. Andre can smash as much alcohol as he wants in a night whereas Cal is a total lightweight who can’t handle his vodka

Andre sleeps completely naked no matter the season. Andre is also naked most of the time in his bedroom or when left alone in the house. It’s a small quirk about him that he doesn’t really know where it came from. “I guess I was just meant to be a nudist. I mean, it’s how we’re all born”

Andre is not the type to admit his jealousy but it is one of the few things he’s able to laugh about just because I think he understands that he is a very jealous person and has more or less come to terms with it (unless of course pushed too hard about it, Andre would get mad about anything if pushed too hard about it)

When andre was a small boy his favorite book was The Runaway Bunny

Andre Kriegman is my life and joy PLLEAASSEEE share your Andre Hcs with me I beg of you

[vanityvixen]

Sworn to Me

Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 3

Summary: You hated Aemond with every fiber of your being. Your half-brother had done nothing but make your life a never-ending storm since being betrothed as children after he lost his eye. However, there is a thin line between loath and love.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic violence, murder, sexual assault, rape, domestic abuse, trauma, child death, animal cruelty, incest, manipulation, emotional abuse, mental health struggles, and sexism. Viewer discretion is advised.

Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Walking to the carriage, ready to take me to the Sept, I felt ever so lonely. That is all I can be now that my suspicions of Alicent corrupting the minds of the ladies of the court to spy on me are slowly becoming tangible.

The dress had been selected so thoroughly—the hues of red, the green shade I had come to loathe, and the necklace that would weigh my neck down like a chain. With two days left, there was nothing I could do, no escape from this horrid reality, and no one left but my dying father and distant sister.

Then suddenly, I heard a voice behind me—that dreadful voice.

Aemond.

He had found me alone, distracted, staring out at the sunset. His presence was imposing, his footsteps loud.

“I’ve never seen you so solemn. You usually have a handmaid with you. Why the change in behavior?” Aemond asked.

“I have my reasons. Must I always need a companion wherever I go?”

He raised a brow at my rude reply, his mouth curling into a small, devilish smirk. He chuckled dryly and shook his head.

“Of course not. I’ll be in your company, and we’re getting married in two days. I must make my presence known,” Aemond replied.

“You need not. The realm already knows of your existence well enough.”

He leaned in close to my neck—close enough to see every detail of his scar, yet not close enough to hear the loud beats of my heart. So close that his breath skimmed the shell of my ear.

“You should learn to be nicer to me. You are to be my wife. I won’t tolerate defiance,” he whispered.

“I am a dragon. Obedience is scarce in someone of my nature.”

He straightened, his body taut, his chin held high.

“The largest dragon bends to my command. You will learn. A dragon submits to another far stronger.” He scoffed.

“I am a dragon who will not abide by your will. I must provide heirs—nothing more.”

“You may be a dragon, but I am your rider. I’ll force you to submit, even if you are defiant,” Aemond declared.

I did not speak to him any further as I continued walking toward the courtyard, the carriage still waiting for me.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The day before my supposed wedding, my sister Rhaenyra arrived at the Keep. Elaine told me the reason for her return was to confirm her son—my nephew, Lucerys’—inheritance.

“Sister,” I greeted her with a smile as she entered through the main doors of the Keep. “I am sorry the others are too occupied to give you a proper welcome.”

“It is fine, sister. I only wished for you, regardless,” Rhaenyra assured me.

I greeted the rest of her family—my uncle Daemon, her children Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey, my cousins Baela and Rhaena, and her two babes.

Jacaerys soon pulled me away from everyone to speak with me alone.

“I missed you, Aunt,” he said with a smile.

“Dear, you have grown very lovely. I missed you too.”

“Have you been well?” he asked.

“Yes, I have. And how is Vermax?”

“He has grown very large—half your dragon’s size, I assume,” he laughed.

Before I could respond, I sensed that ominous gaze upon me. Was it Aemond? Why was he here now, when he had clearly said he was too busy to greet them?

“Nephew. Wife.” His voice cut through the air.

Jacaerys noticed the man behind me, and a scowl formed on his face before he masked it with a halfhearted expression.

“Good morrow, Uncle.”

Aemond spared him only a glance before I turned to face him.

“I need to speak with you,” Aemond said, his tone final.

I shot Jacaerys an apologetic look before following Aemond away.

He led me briskly through the gardens, his demeanor brooding as he guided me to a secluded area, away from prying eyes. Once he deemed the location far enough, he spoke.

“You should be more careful about whom you spend your time with.”

“Can I not speak with my nephew? And why did you call me wife?” I asked.

His voice dropped to a low hiss.

“Nephew or not, you shouldn’t be in such close proximity to any man who isn’t me. Particularly not one day before our marriage. Do you understand that?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Change your gown. Mother needs us in the throne room in three hours.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[bearieio]

too hot for you...

cod guys during a heatwave

characters: simon "ghost" riley, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, rudolfo perra, könig

warnings: fluff! gn!reader

a/n: the weather has been UNBEARABLE down here in the south.. send help! thanks a lot global warming! (thanks a lot industrial revolution!) (￢_￢;) i also plan on doing a cold weather version once the weather calms down, so expect a pt. 2 in the fall/winter! also this isn't proofread bc it's 23:49 on a school night...

gaz quite literally RADIATES heat... so he is NOT having a good time during this heatwave. he's never gotten to the hotter climates on missions that took place in the hotter side of the hemisphere. 

he definitely adores the cold. which is why his electric bill is so high..

  one hot days like this one, he makes sure to plan out the day accordingly because he knows that no one, especially you, wants to go out in the blistering heat. 

  he’d be a little weary about touching you for too long, knowing how it makes you feel uncomfortable to be hot and sticky (wink wink) for too long.

  kyle would most likely make one of those forts that have a fan running through it (cuz he crafty like that) to keep the both of you cool while laying down together, both of you in starfish positions.

-

price is the exact OPPOSITE of gaz. he likes the heat.. but not when it’s like this.

  “todays high is… 103 DEGREES? FAHRENHEIT? CELSIUS?!” 

  “yeah… let’s stay inside today, sweetheart.. the mall can wait.”

  unlike gaz, he’s immune to most amounts of heat, but in SOUTHERN WEATHER? this man gets RED when he even takes a quick look outside. the sun is this mans only enemy. 

  he makes a MEAN smoothie. filled with both veggies and fruits to make sure you take in as many vitamins and minerals as humanly possible. he loves taking care of you wherever and whenever he can :')

  definitely hosts the world’s best barbecues and invites everyone. he’s also one HELL of a cook. he gets the grill goin’ and he can make some shit happen. 

  ++ he also own those silly aprons that have like “kiss the cook,” “my wife loves my meat,’ “real men like their pork PULLED,” "bearded cooks are way better"

  +++ he takes ice baths in the backyard.. a cigar in his mouth, news paper in one hand, ice cold beer in the other.  idk it just seemed like something he'd be doing.

-

soap loves to cuddle and refuses to let go when you tell him that you’re getting sweaty.

  “ugh! c’mon, you know i love your hot n’ sweaty scent!” 

  “..ew johnny.”

  makes a KILLER lemonade. idk what he puts in it but oh my god it’s amazing. not too tart but also not too sweet. brings it to every one of price’s bbqs. 

  his tolerance to heat it quite moderate, and he doesn’t mind the heat. but naturally he’ll be outside until he’s about to collapse because of the sweltering heat.  

  he literally tries to fight heat stroke back. he strokes the heat stroke.

  when you complain about being hot he’ll fan you with anything, for however long. you always feel bad about letting him fan you for an extended period of time, but he reassures you that he doesn’t mind.

  “it's fine, baby. don't worry about me." he says with a slight smile, watching you lie there, enjoying the fanning johnny provides you with.

-

ghost is always cold to the touch, even when he’s been outside, going through drills with his other teammates. 

“how are your hands so cold?!”

he gazes over at you, breathing hard, a thin layer of sweat atop his skin, “what? i’m dripping with sweat. i been outside for the past 2 hours!?”

can and will drink piping hot tea while it’s 99191099 degrees outside. 

  “sweetheart can you get me a cup of tea?”

  “…what? in this weather?!” you reply, confused and kinda terrified.

  he returns the confused look, “um… yea?”

  i don’t think he likes dresses according to the weather.. like he will wear 4 layers of clothing + his trusty balaclava, and seem completely fine (he’s not). 

  ++ in winter he’ll be like one of those middle school kids who wears shorts and a short sleeve shirts, without a jacket.

  +++ i think he secretly hates the heat and prefers to live in colder places, since it was usually cooler where he grew up. 

-

 unfortunately, rudy's love language is physical touch and CANNOT keep his hands off of you. even when the A/C goes out and the both of you're left to fend for yourselves in the sun-drenched heat.

  “r-RUDY GET OFF OF MEE!” 

  “mi amor, PLEASE!-“

  hosts the best carne asadas with alejandro and invites everyone (mostly to one up price’s bbqs). serves the best horchata, limonada, and other agua frescas. 

  picks the hottest days to invite people over and spend hours with you in the kitchen, cookin up a STORM! most DEFINITELY loves teaching you new cooking techniques and ways to improve the flavor, texture, and presentation of your food.

  with having grown up in las almas, he’s pretty used to the heat. he enjoys the hotter months out of the year because thats when his family came together the most.

  ++ i actually think rudy is a really good cook… like his skills are literally otherworldly. and tamales de puerco are his specialty ^^

-

alejandro loves hot weather as much as rudy does. in fact, its the time of the year when they hang out the most. hosting parties, gatherings, and other events in the sweltering heat… but it’s okay because everyone leaves with new memories and smiles on their faces (and maybe a lil bitta heat stroke).

  the days where he isn’t hanging out with rudy or the rest of the guys, he’s at home with you. playing all kinds of games that he grew up playing with his friends and family. he beats everyone in loteria EVERY time. luckily he doesn’t make you bet like he does when he’s with the guys.

  ale stays outside more than the average person when it’s hot. you’d be on the couch, binge-watching a show you promised your friends that you’d catch up on, when you actually get to watching the show, ale heads outside. by the time you’re done with the first season, he’s coming back in, slightly red and covered in sweat. 

  “where did you go?”

  “around the block… why do you ask?”

“yOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR 3 HOURS?"

++ when the weathers nice and hot, he likes to get away and go on roadtrips with you. of course he's usually the one driving, but he loves when you offer to drive.

+++ he LOVES being by the pool. whether it's the one that you guys have, one of his buddies' pools, or the one located inside his base, he cannot stay out of the water. he also has MULTIPLE pairs of swimming trunks... for every occasion.

++++ he most likely keeps up the summer tan he has goin' on.

"it's not a skin color, it's a lifestyle [name]- see you wouldn't know that because you’re-"

-

könig doesn’t have any particular opinions about how hot it is. he notices it but it doesn’t bother him. not like how the cold bothers him.

  during the hotter months i think he doesn’t mind staying inside but he’d also love to be out n’ about, with you by his side. 

  the days end up being long and peaceful. especially because all the two of you do is nap and watch TV together. he thinks it’s nice to be with you, but he’d rather be outside. 

  the only time that the two of you would go out is during the evening when the sun decides to be less aggressive with the earth.

++ i just have a feeling that könig loves to be outside and “one with nature.” he loves how calm everything seemed when he takes hikes in the forest or atop a mountain. 

+++ i also think that könig would be the best bartender EVER. idk i feel like he knows his way around a martini glass or whatever. he puts those skills to use whenever you guys have date night/a night in, concocting drinks with flavors you don’t think you’ve ever tasted before.

“schatz, what will you be having to drink tonight?”

“surprise me” you chirp back at him, winking. 

he looks down at you, sitting on the stool at the island located in your guys’ kitchen “coming right up!” 

a/n pt2: alejandro's tan will never be better than mine (i'm black)

ANYWAYS! constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[thetourturedwritersclub]

I've seen ppl do the marauders being teachers and the subjects they would teach. And hers are my 2 cents.

James he would teach PE. Argue with the wall. Also he'd be that one teacher everyone loves bc he cares for the students. All the students who have PE with him would be fit bc James cares so much abt the students health. He would organise basketball, football /soccer and volleyball games between the other classes.

Sirius On the popular belief of Sirius teaching French, I actually think he would teach art. That doesn't mean that I think that he isn't intelligent, I think he's creative and he would rather teaching a subject which requires u to be creative. He would take the kids to art galleries.

Remus to no one's surprise, I think he would teach English /Literature. And he would make it INTERESTING. They'd be studying Romeo and Juliet , the kids would feel like they are in Verona, Italy watching it happen. Also smth that's so precious for me is Remus having movie hrs, watching films that we are adapted into movie form and they would analyse the differences between the two.

Peter I think Peter would teach home Economics. Also he would be that teacher that u either love and appreciate or hate with a burning passion. He would be a shy introverted nature but also funny and tolerant.

Lily she would teach citizenship. Yes she would be that teacher that would make sure u were mindful, empathetic and grateful. She would make sure kids understood everything u need to know abt being a good citizen. She would also organise field trips which would be in parks, town halls etc etc.

Marlene Listen, I think she would be a history teacher. Her compassion loving nature and ability to tell a story give rlly much history teacher vibez. The kids would be hypnotised listening to every word Marlene was speaking abt a revolution or a glorious monarchy.

Mary Now Mary would teach theatre. Say what u want but I'm a Theatre teacher Mary believer. She would take it super seriously and she would teach all of the kids how to act. Also she would analyse the kids chemistry (basically how much chemistry they have with each other) and she would play match maker with that information. She'd be hitting the bullseye everytime.

Dorcas She would be teaching mathematics. Again argue with the wall. She would be that strict teacher with a heart of gold. Also she would check in with every kid to see if they need help and would be that teacher who wouldn't make u feel bad for not understanding something.

Pandora She would teach Chemistry. Why? Idk she just gives off chemist vibez. And she would always take her class to the lab. And instead of assigning projects, she and her class would conduct research on certain topics and try out formulas.

Barty :Barty would teach physics. He is super smart and in my eyes physics is smth that he would find interesting. He would be teaching the kids with practical examples, like dropping stuff when they have to learn abt gravity and ect.

Evan He would teach biology. Argue with the wall. He would love dissecting bodies and the students in his class would be horrified at his excitement. Also he would be such an inspirational and dedicated teacher. He wouldn't be that strict of a teacher but he would keep his class focused.

Regulus He would teach a foreign language like French. He would be so strict and his class would low-key fear him. He wouldn't have that high of expectations and his test wouldn't be that hard. Also he would explain the kids important facts abt French and he would be an incredible teacher. When he would assign classwork he'd go around the class asking if they needed help. Also he'd be that teacher who wouldn't mind answering questions after class.

So yeah that was soo fun! Lmk if u like it or want me to do stuff like this more often! Would you attend this school if you could?

[tirfpikachu]

i have high empathy for transfems who face often horrific bigotry that i'll never face, and that only some post-transition ofab people have faced, even then only conditionally and not in the exact same way. i have seen someone i love face anti-transfem bigotry and it broke my heart. i want to give a voice to all victims of gncphobic violence and the transfems who actively face misogyny irl have my shoulder to cry on anytime. the transfem experience is complex.

but i have ZERO fucking tolerance for any transfem who believes in the "cotton ceiling" r-pe apologist, predator-enabling rhetoric. and it is hitting the ofab members of the lgbtq community the hardest.

if a fellow ofab/female person believes in that, i'll talk to them, try to reach them. often they end up confessing that they're ofab4ofab too but deeply ashamed, or they'll talk about a predatory encounter they had or how the rhetoric never fully sat right with them but they wanted to be good allies. but for transfems who benefit from shaming ofab people who don't want to fuck them, or sitting by while others like them do that shit, not speaking up, deeply benefiting from a class of people who will grit their teeth and date them despite their clear lack of attraction, or they'll at least feel deep shame and try to conversion therapize themselves into being into both ofab and omab people, hiding their homosexuality (in the og sense of the word) and never truly embracing their culture as homosexual gays, forever ashamed? fuck that. if you're into people regardless of their sex/agab, you don't fucking understand what it's like. if you're not ofab, you're not facing the blunt of the repercussions of this rhetoric. you NEED to use your voice as a transfem to call this shit out. please. and we as ofab people need to completely stop tolerating this behavior.

you can say all day til your face turns blue that no one is forcing anyone to date transfems, but you're still only accepting some forms of gayness and viewing others as close-minded. peer pressure isn't always someone saying "you're a piece of shit for not doing this." it very often is just "well it's okay in your case because xyz, but you should make sure to unlearn transmisogyny and heal your traumas if you have any, and then try to look at transfems while remembering they're real women, it'll help!" which is also a way to brainwash people into feeling deep awful guilt for their wonderfully natural sexuality that has been oppressed for many, many centuries. in this case, inaction is leading to great harm. greater than you think. the stories i have heard are fucking heartbreaking and unacceptable. if transfems speaking up against this can save even one more victim, it'll be incredibly worth it. and beyond that, it'll greatly lower the amount of anti-transfem sentiment in feminist circles (in case you only care if it affects transfem rights, as some have full-on admitted to my face in the past). we need to weed out this bullshit before things escalate into worse and worse situations. you might think it's no big deal. you might not be directly affected by it. you might think that up on your big high horse, you're doing better activism for not wasting your time with ofab people feeling pressured to date. but if you hate predators, if you hate bigotry, there's literally no way around it. this issue keeps worsening in pretty horrifying ways. everybody should be concerned. and it leads to people who feel unheard going down the blackpill route as well, losing all hope in the lgbtq movement. some even end up in rightwing spaces. if you care about gay people, you need to care about ALL gay people. if you care about victims, you need to care about ALL victims. your inaction now has a real body count. all gay sexualities are fantastic and worth celebrating! it doesn't mean trans women can't live as women and date ofab people, passing as a lesbian couple and having lesbian experiences. it just means that you cannot shame someone for having a gayness based on sex/agab. it means you need to learn that not all gay experiences include you, just like how not all transfem experiences include transfem-passing transmasc people. there's creeps around who are using this as an excuse. i have met many, and i have talked to many survivors. they may be a handful in a sea of transfems, but predators need to be fucking exterminated at all costs. you need to speak tf up. now.

[spnbabe67]

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Kinktober Day 17: High Sex (T.O.)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, Weed,(Loretta isn't incoherent), Alcohol Oral (F&M rec.), teeth rotting fluff, aftercare

Summary: Loretta gets her hands on some of Boone's weed and shenanigans ensue

Word Count: 2147

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Sex, Drugs, Ect by Beach Weather.

Also, I have never been high, but for the sake of my own feelings towards that kind of stuff, I didn't write Loretta as super intoxicated. I know that everyone has different tolerances for substances, so talk with your partner if you choose to engage in sexual acts while one or both of you are under the influence, and talk about boundaries before you enter an altered state of mind. Be safe friends!

Tyler couldn’t keep his eyes off of Loretta. He and the rest of his team had been chasing a storm cell in the heart of Kansas, holing up at one of the small motels on the outskirts of a nearby town for the night. The engine blocks had barely cooled when his friends brought out the booze, and in Boone’s case, the weed. At some point throughout the night, the sun falling in the sky, Loretta must have stolen a couple drags off of Boone’s blunt when Tyler wasn’t looking. Tyler never much cared for the weed, participating in the occasional celebratory drink, but never the pungent herb he’d seen Boone and Lilly roll into blunts and smoke more than a chimney. 

Loretta had slunk up to him all shy like, more shy than she normally was, giving him a sheepish grin. If the stink of pot wasn’t enough to indicate to him that she was high, then her pupils, blown so wide that her pretty aquamarine irises were almost completely eclipsed, would have. Tyler couldn’t help but smile gently as Loretta wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself against his side. 

“Heya, Doll.” Tyler smiled down at her, plucking the baseball cap he had been wearing off and placing it down over her fawn brown hair. 

Loretta’s cheeks tinged pink as he placed the cap on her head backwards. “Hey yourself, Cowboy.” She gazed up at him.

Tyler wrapped his arm around her waist, squeezing her hip as Loretta leaned up on her tippy toes to brush her mouth against his, her hand coming up to rest against the side of his face. Tyler sighed into the kiss, wholly content in this, in her. He only pulled away, smoothing his hand up and down Loretta’s back when Dani wolf whistled at them. He chuckled as Loretta stuck her tongue out at her friend. 

“Get a room you two!” Lilly joined in with the teasing, Boone and Dexter joining in, laughing goodnaturedly. 

“Maybe we will!” Loretta called back.

Tyler couldn’t help but duck his head, laughing along as Loretta laced their fingers together, her smaller hand fitting perfectly in his own. He rubbed the pad of his thumb along her hand as Loretta guided him out of the parking lot, digging into his pockets to pull out the key for their room. His chest warmed, knowing how his friends, his chosen family, had accepted her as one of their own. She had chased with them long before Tyler took things further between them, but when they did make their relationship known to the rest of the group, they’d been met with nothing but overwhelming acceptance.

“Be safe! Use protection!” Boone called after them. 

Tyler busted out laughing when Loretta lifted her hand up, flipping their friend off.

“Kiss my ass, Boone!” She snarked back, sliding the card through the slot, the tumbler of the lock giving way.

“That’s Tyler’s job, not mine!”

Tyler sighed, hoisting Loretta over his shoulder as she lunged, aiming to engage Boone in a good-natured scuffle no doubt. 

“Owens!” Loretta giggled, pounding her hands against his back as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Jones.” Tyler countered, smacking Loretta on the ass before tossing her on the bed. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Her surprised yelp quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles as she sat up to sit cross legged on the bed. Tyler could help but admire her, the way the warm light from the bedside lamp glanced off the soft curls of her hair. It deepened the barely-there freckles that were smattered across her cheeks and nose, adding an alluring glow to her. The oversized t-shirt had slipped off her shoulder slightly and Tyler was convinced that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever gotten the privilege of laying his eyes on. Her siren song had thoroughly enraptured him because when she crooked a finger at him, that sultry look in her heavy-lidded eyes, he was powerless to resist.

His fingers brushed against the soft curve of her jaw as Tyler closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers once again. The kiss was gentle and tender, no need to rush because of time constraints or that ‘I need you so bad’ feeling that had them tearing each others clothes off like horny teenagers. Loretta had pushed herself up to her knees on the bed, evening the height difference between them. Tyler ran his hands along her sides in long, slow strokes, exploring her body beneath his touch like it was the first time. He shivered as Loretta’s chilly fingers brushed under his t-shirt and made contact with his bare skin. Her hands wandered like his were, tracing the lines of his body, sliding up the front of him. 

They broke the kiss only long enough for Tyler to help her pull his shirt up and off. He reached up, taking his cap from off her head, tossing it to the ground to join his shirt. Tyler dipped his head, aiming to reclaim her mouth but Loretta was already ahead of him, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the column of his neck, her hands braced on his chest. His head rolled back as she mouthed at his neck down to his chest, her hands sliding down the front of him to end up at the button of his jeans. Tyler’s hands found their own way under Loretta’s shirt, his touch careful as he tugged it over her head, leaving her in her sports bra and jean shorts. 

Her lips continued to trail south, readjusting so instead of kneeling on the mattress she was back to sitting, her legs on either side of his. Tyler dipped down, firmly kissing her as her nimble fingers made deft work of his jeans. He helped her slide them down his thighs along with his boxers, stepping out of them. He groaned into the kiss as her small hand wrapped around his length, running her palm up and down him. Loretta pulled away from him, nipping at his bottom lip for good measure as she dipped her head down. 

Tyler hissed through his teeth as Loretta’s tongue laved its way up the underside of him. He flexed his hands into fists and back again as she enveloped the tip of him inside her hot mouth. Her cheeks hollowed out around him, her hand lazily pumping the rest of him as her mouth worked the top of his cock. 

“Fuck, Doll. That’s it.” Tyler praised as Loretta started to bob her head, taking more and more of his length into her mouth with each pass. 

Tyler gazed down at her, watching her work him over with that mouth of hers. He gathered her hair, gently moving the curtain of locks away from her face, holding it in a ponytail at the back of her head. He couldn’t help the way his hips shallowly rocked forward, chasing the feeling of her mouth around him. Tyler choked on a moan as Loretta looked up at him. The sight of her, mouth full of his cock, eyes glossy, nearly had him spilling himself down her throat then and there. He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath through his nose, telling himself he needed to hold off a little longer. 

But he knew he wasn’t gonna last long with the way Loretta’s tongue ran along that tender spot on the underside. He fisted his hand in her hair as that pull in his lower stomach grew tighter and tighter until he moaned her name, warning her almost too late before he spilled himself down her throat. Loretta’s hand snaked around his thigh, holding his hips nearly flush with her lips. The feeling of her throat swallowing around him was too much, felt too good. He pulled his still semi-hard cock from her mouth, swiping his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away a mixture of spit and his cum from her mouth. 

Tyler chased Loretta up the bed, shedding her clothes on the way until she was sprawled out naked under him, her hair splayed around her head like a halo; his own personal angel. Her body was soft and warm, and so damn responsive as Tyler took his own turn tracing his lips along the supple curves of her body. His mouth left a trail of kisses from her mouth down her body like stops on a roadmap, a curvy back road for only him to explore. At at the end of that road lay salvation between her legs. The first taste of her was sweet, and her resounding moan was even sweeter. 

Tyler gripped her thighs apart, feasting on her like she was his first meal in weeks. He licked at her clit, wrapping his lips around the erect bud, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly. Tyler grinned against her core as her nails scraped against his scalp, massaging and tugging at his hair, pressing his face further against her pussy. Her moans filled her ears, getting more and more breathy as he sucked and licked until her thighs started to shake around his head. That’s it, Baby. Let it all go. Tyler laved his tongue up the center of her, working her through her orgasm until she was pushing his head away from her core, mumbling about it being too much, and instead pulling him back up her body. 

“So pretty.” Tyler mumbled against her skin. “My pretty girl. My girl.” 

Tyler grinned against Loretta’s mouth as she rolled them over, straddling his waist. He felt Loretta grin against his mouth as he sat up, holding her in his lap. 

“I love you, Tyler.” Loretta breathed into the space between them, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“I love you too, Lor.”

Loretta let out a shuddering breath as Tyler felt her reach around to grasp his cock, painfully hard again, running the head of him through her folds. “Say it again.”

Tyler moaned. “I love you.”

Tyler squeezed her hips, yanking on that leash holding him back from fucking up into her as she sank down onto him, her warmth enveloping him. He kissed her sloppily, all tongues and teeth, moaning her name as Loretta rode him slowly. She ground her hips against his, so lazily, rocking back and forth. Tyler couldn’t pick a spot for his hands too stay, not with so many soft curves to choose from. Her breasts, her sides, her tummy, her hips, her ass, he loved every inch of her and thanked God every day that he got the chance to show her just how much he did. Tyler slid an arm around her waist, holding her to him as his other hand found her clit, rubbing in soft circles as she moved atop him. 

“Thatta girl.” Tyler said softly. “Take what you need, Baby.”

It was a slow, gentle building of pleasure between them. Tyler could feel Loretta grow lazy with her movements getting closer and closer to her climax; he held her hips, assisting her movements as he swiped his tongue into her mouth. Loretta whimpered into his mouth as her thighs shook against his own, her climax having her inner walls fluttering around him. Tyler held onto her like she was the last piece of wreckage amongst a tempest at sea as his own orgasm rocked through him, Tyler moaning against her shoulder. 

In the aftermath of their collective high, Tyler gently lifted Loretta off of him, laying her down on the bed as he quickly grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it under the tap. Loretta smiled at him as Tyler came back over, running the cloth gently between her legs, pulling a low whine from her. He tossed the cloth aside, motioning for Loretta to roll over on her stomach before climbing into bed beside her. Tyler rubbed his hands up and down her back, putting pressure behind his thumbs, finding the knots he knew plagued her along her shoulder blades and lower back. 

He heard Loretta hum contentedly into the pillow, sighing sleepily. “You’re always so good to me.”

Tyler huffed a laugh leaning down to press a kiss to the spot between her shoulder blades against her spine. “Only the best for my girl.”

Loretta hummed noncommittally as Tyler worked out the knots in her back. Tyler paused as he realized Loretta’s breaths had evened out, her eyes having shut minutes ago. He smiled to himself, turning out the light before stretching out beside her. She snuggled up against him as he pulled the covers over both their naked bodies, tucking an arm under her to pull her into his side.

“I love you Lor.” Tyler whispered into the darkness. “Sleep well, my girl. I got you.”

[idkyetxoxo]

Davos Blackwood - Losing Game

Summary - A Bracken and a Blackwood fall in love against all odds. They face the heart-wrenching reality of their families' feud and the fleeting nature of their passion, culminating in one final night where they confront the bittersweet ache of what could have been.

Pairing - Davos Blackwood x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2085

Masterlist for Davos • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

I spent all of the love I've saved, we were always a losing game.

A Bracken and a Blackwood were as unlikely a match as light and dark, fire and ice, the sun and the moon.

Despite generations of bloodshed and hatred between our families, we thought we could be different. Foolish, maybe, but love is often blind to history. 

For a time, we convinced ourselves we could overcome it.

But now, on the last night I would spend in Davos Blackwood's arms, I knew that this love—our love—was slipping away, like water through my fingers. 

That night was heavy with silence, our unspoken regrets echoing louder than words ever could.

When I first met Davos, I had no idea he would ever occupy my heart, much less break it. He was an insufferable man with a sharpness in his gaze that felt like a blade. 

I despised his arrogance, the way he seemed to stride through a room like he owned the very air I breathed. 

The Blackwood name was etched on his face as much as in his soul—a lineage steeped in darkness and bitter pride.

It was in the bustling marketplace that fate, with all its cruelty, decided to introduce us. I was minding my own business, trying to barter for herbs, when I felt a shadow fall across me. 

I looked up to find him standing there, dressed in that unmistakable Blackwood attire, his eyes sharp as winter frost.

"Tell me," he sneered, glancing down at my basket with disdain. "Do Brackens often wander into towns where they're barely tolerated, or is it just you?"

My blood boiled. "Last I checked, this market didn't belong to the Blackwoods," I shot back, gripping the basket handle tightly. "Or have you taken to policing where others may go?"

He smirked, a cold, infuriating expression that only made my anger grow. "It's my business to ensure vermin don't overrun our streets."

"Careful," I replied, lifting my chin defiantly. "It's awfully easy to poison oneself when they're so concerned with everyone else's filth."

He blinked, his smirk faltering for just a second. 

But before he could reply, I turned on my heel and walked away, heart pounding as much from our exchange as from the way his voice seemed to echo in my ears.

Our paths crossed again only a few days later, this time at a gathering of lords and ladies where our families' interests inconveniently converged. He was across the hall, but I felt his eyes on me, like a hawk circling prey. 

And when our eyes finally met, he gave a slight, mocking bow, lips curving in that same insolent smirk. 

My pride demanded I look away, but I couldn't. There was something in that gaze, something I couldn't put into words. 

Was it challenge? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it held me captive, like a spell I had no hope of breaking.

The third time we met, it was no accident.

The moon was high, casting a silvery glow over the forest path where I waited, cloaked in shadows. I had heard his footfalls long before he stepped into view as if the night itself had grown colder with his arrival. 

And when he saw me, a gleam of surprise flickered in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual indifference.

"Davos Blackwood," I murmured, unable to keep the hint of contempt from my voice. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were following me."

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath, his voice low and dangerous. "Believe me, I wouldn't bother. I don't make a habit of entertaining Brackens."

"Good," I retorted, though my voice betrayed me, quivering slightly. "Because I despise you."

For a long moment, he was silent, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. Then, to my astonishment, he chuckled softly, a sound so foreign from him it was like a crack in the armour. 

"So you keep saying," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "And yet, here you are."

The words hung between us, more binding than a vow, as he stepped closer still, his hand lifting to brush a stray curl from my face. 

I stiffened, resisting the urge to lean into his touch, to give in to this madness. 

And yet, some part of me—a foolish, reckless part—wondered what it would be like to close that last breath of space between us.

Days bled into nights, and those nights became clandestine meetings beneath a sea of stars, our rivalry dissolving under the weight of words whispered only for each other. 

He told me of his youth, of a father who demanded perfection, a life suffused with cold duty and loyalty to a family he had never chosen. 

I, in turn, told him of my world—one bound by loyalty to a different banner, driven by expectations I had never asked for. 

His touch, once cold and unyielding, grew softer, gentler like fire finding kindling in a frost-covered forest.

Until one night, that ember between us flared, wild and all-consuming. He pulled me to him, fierce as a storm, his lips crushing mine, and I kissed him back with a desperation I couldn't name. 

In that moment, it didn't matter that he was a Blackwood and I a Bracken. 

All that mattered was the fire between us, the thrill of giving in to the one person I should hate above all others.

"How can something so wrong feel this right?" I whispered, my voice fragile as I pressed my trembling hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. 

It felt like a lifeline, one that I knew was slipping away even as I held onto him.

Davos looked down at me, and for once, that familiar icy stare softened, melting in a way that made me feel both exhilarated and broken all at once. 

"Maybe it's because we're tired of fighting," he murmured, his voice low, like a confession he'd never wanted to make. "Maybe we're finally just letting go."

The night swallowed our words, but the truth in them lingered, wrapping around us as tightly as his arms did. 

For months, we became each other's only refuge, two broken souls hiding from the shadows of our pasts. He was my fire, burning fiercely against the cold world that surrounded us; I was his light, pulling him out of the darkness he'd been raised to embrace. 

Together, we crafted a hidden world where the walls between us dissolved, where a Bracken and a Blackwood could belong to each other.

But reality is a cruel thief. 

It gives and tempts, then it steals. Rumours of our forbidden love slipped through cracks we'd left unattended, and soon enough, whispers of betrayal found their way back to both our families. 

Threats circled like vultures, eager to devour any hope we had built. 

They made it clear—there would be no peace if we stayed together.

A Bracken and a Blackwood—no matter how fiercely we clung to each other—were never meant to be.

And so, we had one night left. Both of us knew it.

The wind was sharper than ever that evening, slicing through the trees and biting at our skin as if nature itself was mourning what we were about to lose. 

We sat close by the fire, its warmth pale and futile against the cold that clung to my bones. 

Silence draped over us, heavy as a shroud, each unspoken word a burden neither of us dared release.

My hands lay in his, but even his touch couldn't stop the chill from creeping in. 

I stared down at our entwined fingers, struggling to hold onto the memory of that first time he'd touched me, when his hand had burned against mine, igniting something I had thought impossible.

"This isn't fair," I whispered, my voice cracking, eyes stinging. "Why can't they just let us be happy?"

He looked at me, a painful sadness etched into his face, a face I had once loathed and now couldn't bear to live without. 

"Because happiness doesn't matter to them," he replied, the words raw, almost bitter. "Power. Legacy. Pride. That's all they care about. And that's all we'll ever be to them—another weapon in a war that has nothing to do with us."

A tear slipped free despite my efforts to hold it back, and I bit my lip, angry at myself for breaking down, for letting our last memory together be marred by sadness. 

But the grief, the hopelessness was too much, crashing over me like waves I couldn't withstand.

"I can't say goodbye," I choked out, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't let you go, Davos. Not like this."

He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me as if he could shield me from the world, from the fate that would tear us apart come morning. 

His hand slid through my hair, his lips brushing against my forehead in a gentle, heartbreaking caress. 

"I know," he whispered, his own voice quivering. "Gods know, I don't want to let you go. But if I stay... if we try to defy them... they'll kill you. And I could never—" 

He broke off, struggling to steady himself. "I'd sooner see a dagger in my own heart."

Anger flared within me, surging over the sadness like fire. I pushed away from him, fists clenched. "And what about me?" I demanded, my voice filled with frustration and hurt. 

"Do you think this is any easier for me? Do you think I'd rather live without you than risk whatever future we might have together?"

His face fell, a deep despair clouding his gaze as he reached out, his hand trembling as it cradled my cheek. 

"Please," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw as if memorizing it. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, letting myself sink into the warmth of his hand, the gentleness in his fingers as they brushed against my skin. 

This was our last night, and each second felt fragile, stolen, like glass that could shatter with a single breath. 

I didn't want to break it, didn't want to ruin these final moments with anger or sadness, but the ache was unbearable, and I knew that even as I clung to him, he was already slipping away.

Our final kiss was a slow, searing thing, a kiss filled with all the words we couldn't say, every promise we knew we couldn't keep. 

I could taste the sorrow in it, the desperation, the ache of a love that could never truly belong to either of us. 

It was a kiss that burned, searing itself into my memory, carving out a piece of my heart that would always belong to him.

We lay together beneath the stars, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing as one. 

For a brief, bittersweet moment, I let myself believe that the night would stretch on forever, that morning would never come to tear us apart. 

But dawn, as always, was merciless, creeping over the horizon, casting light on the futility of a love we had no right to.

"Promise me one thing," I whispered, my voice barely more than a hollow echo in the quiet morning.

"Anything," he replied, his own voice laced with the same sorrow, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek, his gaze holding mine.

"Remember me," I begged, my fingers ghosting over his face, memorizing every line, every scar, knowing this would be the last time I'd ever see him. 

"Promise me you'll remember me, even if we never see each other again."

He nodded, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I swear it. I'll remember you until my dying breath."

And then, as the sun rose, we whispered our final goodbyes, words torn from us as if they had claws, leaving us raw and bleeding. 

I watched him walk away, his silhouette fading against the dawn, each step taking another piece of me with him.

And as he disappeared from view, a hollowness settled in my chest, an ache that felt like an open wound. 

I was a Bracken, and he was a Blackwood. We were bound by fate to be enemies, destined to be torn apart by a hatred we had never chosen.

But for one fleeting, beautiful moment, we had dared to defy the heavens. 

For one night, a Bracken and a Blackwood had held each other close, and nothing else mattered.

All I know, all I know loving you is a losing game.

A/n - Sorry but sometimes everyone has to suffer when I feel like writing sad stuff 🫣

[magnificentmaleficent]

ʙʟᴀꜱᴘʜᴇᴍᴏᴜꜱ | ᴅʀ. ᴢᴀɪᴜꜱ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ [III]

𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎: Blasphemous 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Dr. Zaius x F! Reader 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Stranded on a world ruled by evolved apes, you are the anomaly- a human that defies the natural order and no one in Ape city resents your existence more than Dr. Zaius, the rigid and unyielding minister of science and chief defender of the faith. Who, more determined than ever, wants to keep his world safe from humankind- your kind. But... Is it normal to be so consumed by your enemy's presence? Why can't he keep you out of his thoughts? 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Zaius wrestles with his growing jealousy and inner turmoil over her presence, realizing she threatens not just ape society but his own tightly controlled emotions. As the High Council questions his tolerance he fights to maintain his composure. 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: [I] [II] [III] 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @pandaworldkawaii 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: I'm so happy to be welcomed into this community! I've got some Kingdom!PotA request that I'm working on! So stay tunned for more! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ ✿)

★゜・。。・゜゜☆゜・。。・゜★

CHAPTER III: ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ & ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ.

Zaius' jealousy burned like a slow poison, eroding the foundation of his convictions. He had prided himself on restraint, on control, yet the thought of her speaking about Taylor—admiring him—unsettled something deep within him. He recalled the moments when his restraint wavered: times when his gaze lingered for too long, the instances he caught himself searching for her in the halls, the breathless, unspoken anticipation of their next confrontation. These were weaknesses he had never allowed himself before. And yet, here he was, consumed by thoughts of a dead man and a woman who should have meant nothing to him. What was this wretched emotion twisting inside him? And why, despite everything, could he not let it go?

The rational part of him scoffed at his own folly. Taylor had been a disruptive force, a human anomaly who had confirmed every fear Zaius had harbored about the past. And yet, he had also been something else—a rival he never acknowledged, an adversary who had challenged his beliefs as fiercely as she did now. That she spoke of him with such intensity, that she carried his memory as something precious, stroked a fire in Zaius' chest that he neither recognized nor welcomed.

As chief defender of the faith and minister of science, he had long prided himself on his ability to govern with logic, to uphold the sacred laws of ape society without allowing emotion to cloud his judgment. But tonight, as he stood by Dr Zira’s study, his mind was a battlefield of contradictions. He should have been on his own study, focusing on his work yet his thoughts keept being consumed by something far more troubling.

Her

She was an enigma—an impossible disruption in the fragile balance he had spent his life protecting. He had told himself again and again that she was nothing more than an unfortunate remnant of the past, a reminder of humanity’s inevitable destruction. And yet, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of that truth, he could not stop thinking about her.

“…He was my friend,” her voice was distant, lost in reminiscence as he hid by the ajar door,“Taylor… he wasn’t perfect, but he was kind. He didn’t deserve whatever happened to him.”

Taylor. The name alone sent a wave of bitterness through Zaius’ chest. The astronaut had been reckless, arrogant, dangerous... He had upset the balance of their world and challenged everything ape society held sacred. And yet, hearing her speak of him with such quiet affection sent a sharp pang through him, one he did not wish to examine too closely. 

“You truly cared for him,” Zira observed gently.

Exaling,  you shook your head, voice tinted by sadness. “I did. But it wasn’t like that. He was like… a tether to my past. The last piece of a world that doesn’t even exist anymore.”

The orangutan felt something in him tighten. He had spent so long viewing her as an outsider, an interloper, an uninvited guest in his world. But for the first time, he saw her as something else—someone who had lost everything. Someone who had been torn from everything she had known and thrust into a world that did not welcome her.

And yet, she adapted. She laughed. She spoke with Zira and Cornelius as if she belonged. 

That thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he heard her continue,voice softer now. “You have each other. A home. A place where you belong.”

There was silence before Cornelius’ voice intervened, cautious yet firm. “Dr Zaius had that once, too.”

You looked up sharply. “What?”

Zira looked at Cornelius with quiet reproach, she hesitated, glancing around as if ensuring no one else could hear. Then, she sighed. “It isn’t my place to say, but… before Taylor came, before any of this—Zaius had a family. A wife. A daughter. He only has his granddaughter left… She lives in the countryside with her father.”

You blinked, expression unreadable. “I… didn’t know.”

Zira nodded. “Not many do. He doesn’t speak of them. They were lost in the great catastrophe, before we met Taylor.”

“The great catastrophe?” You asked, slightly confused. “What happened?”

A long silence befell them, Zira’s eyes saddened as Cornelius held her hand. “We used to have a moon… But one day, it was destroyed.” 

Cornelius held her hand tighter as Zira choked down tears, he continued gently. “ We were unaware of what effects it had on the planet, but shortly after its destruction a giant wave hit the chimpanzee district… Millions were lost.” The ape said gravely as Zira sought refuge in his arms. “Zira and I met that day, actually. We survived together.”

The female ape held her husband’s cheek tenderly as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “Cornelius helped me look for my nephew Lucius and my sister… He was such a worrywart..” She teased.

“But you love this worrywart.” He teased back, lightening the mood slightly. You smiled at their shows of affections, suddenly the hairs in you neck rose as you felt a blistering gaze in you.

For Zaius, the weight of the past crushed down with suffocating force. He had buried those memories, locked them away so they could never hurt him again interfere with his duty. And yet, here they were, unearthed by a conversation he was never meant to hear.

Her voice was quieter now, touched with something he could not define. “ Losing so many people…that must have been unbearable.”

Silence followed her empathetic comment, but the orangutan turned away before he could hear more. He did not wish to hear her sympathy, did not want her to see him as anything other than what he was—a guardian of ape faith, a protector of order. Not a man burdened by loss. Not a man plagued by emotions he could not control.

As he walked away, a bitter realization settled deep within him.

She was unlike Taylor.

She was not reckless. She was not blind with rage. She listened. She learned.

And that made her infinitely more dangerous.

Zaius had spent his life ensuring that apes never repeated humanity’s mistakes. That knowledge remained locked away, buried in the ruins where it belonged.

But she was digging it up.

And what disturbed him the most?

He wanted to know her and he wanted her to know him.

He wanted to understand the world she came from, the history she carried in her mind. He had spent his entire existence trying to suppress humanity’s past, and yet—

When she looked at him, with those sharp, defiant eyes, he felt something unfamiliar.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

Late at night, when sleep eluded him, his thoughts turned inward, tangled and confused. He would replay his interactions with her, dissecting them as though they were academic puzzles. He would recall the moments when she had challenged him, the times she had looked at him not with hatred, but with something else—something neither of them dared to acknowledge.

He told himself it was simple frustration. That his anger stemmed from her defiance, her refusal to accept the order he had spent his life preserving. But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

It was the way she unsettled him, the way her voice lingered in his mind long after their conversations ended. The way her presence had become something he anticipated.

Most of all, it was the way the thought of Taylor standing in his place—Taylor earning her trust, Taylor seeing the fire in her eyes and knowing it was meant for him—made something dark and unyielding coil inside him.

Zaius had spent his life believing human’s needed to be exterminated for the good of apekind. That they were dangerous killer machines. But now, as he stared at the flickering candlelight in his chamber, haunted by ghosts of a woman who should have meant nothing to him, he remembered that same night, when he confronted her when he had found her alone.

"What was he to you?" he asked, more brusquely than intended.

“Who?” She asked, confused but guarded.

“Taylor” Zaius’ voice was like venom, cold and unforgiving.

She had looked at him, surprised and perhaps, even slighty amused. "He was my friend. He was brave, reckless, and flawed, but he tried to do what was right. He deserved better than what he got... All of them did."

Her words had settled into him like a barbed hook, tearing at something raw inside him. 

Deserved better.

Had she looked at him and thought the same lens? Did she think of him as the villain?, as an executioner of inconvenient truths?

No. He refused to be seen as such.

And yet, he found himself watching her more closely. Every time she mentioned Taylor’s name, a bitter taste settled on his tongue. He would catch himself wondering if she compared them, if she resented Zaius for surviving when Taylor had not.

Was that why he felt this unbearable pressure inside his chest? The knowledge that Taylor had earned her admiration, her loyalty?

Why should that matter?

And yet, it did.

It infuriated him.

Doctor Zaius had always known his role in society. It was not a simple matter of governance or law—it was the burden of knowledge, the weight of truth that few could bear. He was both protector and executioner, safeguarding the future of the ape species by ensuring the past remained buried. There had never been room for doubt, never been space for personal feelings.

And yet, as he sat within the grand chambers of the High Council, his hands clasped tightly together, his thoughts were not on laws, nor on the precarious balance between progress and destruction.

They were on her.

On you.

It was absurd. He had spent decades ensuring that no human, no remnant of their wretched past, could upset the world the apes had built. And yet she was there, walking among them, speaking with Zira and Cornelius as if she belonged. She disrupted everything, not just with her presence, but with the way she made him feel—feelings he had spent a lifetime suppressing.

He had caught himself several times today, noticing the fractures in his carefully composed exterior. Small moments were his restraint wavered, when he looked at her for too long, when he clenched his fists as she smiled at other apes. When his chest burned at the thought of her choosing to remain in the city rather than run.

But last night had been the worst of them all.

Hearing her speak of Taylor—of her past, of her world—it had ignited something deep, something ugly. He had told himself his rage was at Taylor, at the reckless human who had thrown their world into chaos. But no… it was jealousy. Pure, seething jealousy over a man who was already dead. A man who had shared a past with her that Zaius never could.

And now, in the chamber of the High Council, he found himself barely listening as another elder spoke of stability, of maintaining control. He knew the words by heart, had spoken them himself a thousand times. And yet, his mind wandered.

What was she doing now?

Had she spoken of him? Had she mentioned the confrontation last night?

The thought sent another wave of irritation through him, though whether at himself or her, he could not say.

“Doctor Zaius,” Honorus, one of the council members, addressed him, breaking through his storming thoughts.

He lifted his head slowly, composing himself, his eyes settling on the speaker. “Yes?”

“The matter of the human,” the elder continued. “It is concerning that she moves so freely among our people. The citizens grow curious. And curiosity leads to unrest.”

Zaius exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the armrest of his chair. “I am well aware of the risks.”

“You have been… tolerant.” Another member spoke, and there was an unspoken question in their voice, an accusation lingering just beneath the surface.

Tolerant.

As if he had welcomed her presence. As if he had not spent every waking moment resisting the urge to cast her out, to rid himself of the constant war she had ignited in his mind.

“I do what is necessary,” Zaius said, his voice carefully measured. “She is an anomaly, yes. But she is no Taylor. She is no threat.”

It was a lie.

Because she was a threat. Not to their laws, not to their government—but to him. To everything he had spent his life building within himself.

He should have rid himself of her the moment she appeared.

So why did he keep hesitating?

A/N: Have any request for PotA? Let me know!

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)

Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?

We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!

also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.

The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well. 

You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair. 

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking. 

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him. 

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows. 

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said. 

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. 

You walked over to him and handed him the drink. 

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go. 

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned. 

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled. 

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said. 

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no. 

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk. 

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling. 

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word. 

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes. 

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar. 

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone. 

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated. 

"Can't," He said. 

"What do you mean can't?" You asked. 

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants. 

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head. 

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down. 

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help. 

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled. 

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping. 

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked. 

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked. 

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked. 

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities. 

"I don't like this car" He complained. 

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred. 

"You're never this mopey" You retorted. 

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off. 

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded. 

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there. 

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled. 

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled. 

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch. 

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused. 

"Who?" You asked. 

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged. 

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup. 

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table. 

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself. 

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale. 

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way. 

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting. 

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest. 

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily. 

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved. 

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known. 

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. 

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said. 

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes. 

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet. 

"Oh you have no idea" He said. 

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.  

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked. 

"Never" He said. 

"I don't think I believe you" You said. 

“Well it’s the truth” He said. 

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked. 

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way” 

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked. 

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked. 

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked. 

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said. 

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said. 

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh. 

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again. 

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back. 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked. 

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked. 

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling. 

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said. 

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief. 

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining. 

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said. 

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully. 

Oh.

“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said. 

[evolutionsvoid]

As all should know by now, I am pretty passionate when it comes to flora and fauna. As a researcher, I've devoted my life to learning everything I can and seeing every creature I can. I find it all so fascinating, and I can't help but fall in love with the natural world over and over again. I don't know how to put it into words, or properly explain why I care so much about it. Well, actually, I can put it into words, but someone won't let me properly explain it! "Too long," she says! "An intro shouldn't be longer than a novella," she says! But wasn't she the one who told me to write about my passion?! It's lunacy, I tell you! To tell me to pour my heart out and put into words the love and energy that keeps me going, keeps me living, but then limit it to a measly few pages! I won't have it! I won't tolerate it! I will give her a piece of my mind when I see her again! Apparently the last five times didn't get through her thick cap!....Now what was I writing again?

YES, nature! Wonderful animals and plants! What I was getting at was my love for such things, and all the weird shapes, sizes and types they come in! It is perfection! Wonder! Beauty! Every creature adapted in such specific ways! Given such incredible traits! They are living pieces of art! SO WHY DOES SOME NOXIOUS WEED OF A KNOTHEAD THINK THEY CAN DO BETTER?! Magic and its wretched alterations! Bah! Don't get me wrong, magic is a wonderful thing in itself, and it has certainly made everyone's lives easier! Well, at least if you aren't on the receiving end of a magic bolt. Or belong to a poor village that is going to be demolished to have a fancy academy put in instead... But nothing drives me crazier than people using magic to alter and mutate perfectly good species into something else! Okay, well maybe stupid naming conventions are worse. And, perhaps idiots who introduce invasive species on purpose. Okay, so, actually one of the things that drives me absolutely mad is magic alterations of plants and animals.

Now, of course, changing flora and fauna used in agriculture is perfectly reasonable. We were doing it well before magic got so big. The knot in my side is when people mutate species purely for spectacle or to make them living weapons! And with no thought or care for the creature itself! A tool to be used and thrown out! Disgusting! We dryads may use our affinity to these things to cause changes, but we do so respectfully and ensure that the species is not seen as a disposable trinket. The Eyahs are a good example of magic mutations that were done in the worst way possible. A simple primate warped into a crazed, bloodthirsty killer, but then abandoned the second the war was over! Vile! Hateful! A putrid violation of life! But of course I didn't bring this stuff up purely to get my sap pumping, as it is relevant to the species I wanted to write about. The bolt spider is an arachnid that faced a similar fate, used as an experiment in magic.

Originally, the bolt spider was a relatively simple species. About the size of a dinner plate, found in places that had plenty of trees or high up vantage points. Like many of their relatives, they spun webs in order to trap passing prey. The difference here, though, was that the bolt spider was capable of producing a glowing webbing that had some shocking properties! By that I mean it could be electrified by a pulse from the spider's special organs. This was how it quickly dispatched large prey that flew into their web! And the glow of their silk attracted food and drew them closer to their doom! Wonderful stuff! What a neat little species! However, some folk saw these spiders and thought they could do better...

According to the tales, the original intent was to make these spiders larger and produce more silk. This was because their beautiful glowing silk was a prized material, and used in a variety of fancy clothing, potions and other such things. The wild spider populations were taking a hit from over harvesting, as their silk fetched a fair sum. So the idea was to make a captive breed that could fulfill the market's wants more easily. However, at some point, things went foul. It would seem that the bolstering of this species size and abilities through magic caught the attention of some nasty folk. And when they began to meddle with things, a new direction was taken in this program. What resulted was the bolt spiders we know today, a species that is the disgust of many. This is because they are now associated with a magic group that is very unpopular with the public: necromancers.

It would seem that an interesting thing was found with the bolt spider's electrical capabilities. When bolstered to a greater size, there was more power to their jolts, more danger. A full burst unleashed upon a person could fry them outright, but that wasn't the interesting part. What really caught folk's attention was how the electricity affected the dead. When dead flesh was exposed to this energy, it would seemingly come to life! The electricity would make the muscles and limbs go crazy! And that was when the experiments took their turn. They would cease to be silk spinners for fancy tapestries, and instead become undead monstrosities.

The resulting bolt spider was much larger, more potent and very deadly. Its electrical capabilities have been greatly enhanced, and its aggression has been increased as well. These arachnids now rarely hunt by waiting in shocking webs, and instead attack prey straight on. Their legs end in sharp points, which can easily pierce skin. Through this, they can pump a lethal amount of volts into victims. And when one of these large spiders jumps on to you and fully snares you in its steel trap grip, it is all over. For you at least, because with this new corpse, the bolt spider has a new task to complete. Time to take its new toy home...

When presented with a dead body, the bolt spider will position itself on the deceased's back. It aims to align its own body with the spine, where it will clamp down. Its legs will then pierce specific points of the corpse, going for limbs, shoulders and thighs. Its fangs will unsheathe and pierce into the neck, while its odd pedipalps will embed themselves into the neck. Now fully latched on, it will release its energy and the corpse will come to life! Well, not really. What actually happens is that the spider uses its electricity to control the deceased, turning them into an undead puppet. This is how they bring their food back to their nest, or use this new bulky body to fend off foes and capture new prey. But it doesn't end there! Trained by necromancers and enhanced by their foul magic, the bolt spider wants more than a simple human body. As they gather more carcasses, they will use their serrated chelicerae to gnaw through limbs and break them down into pieces. Then, their silk will be utilized to sew the desirable chunks back together, into a horrible amalgamation of flesh and death. Copious webbing will be used to patch it together and hold it all into one piece. And when the bolt spider latches on and uses its energy, the whole thing will come to life, powered by its piercing limbs and electrified webbing. This is where the horror stories begin, with monstrous brutes of undead flesh and glowing "veins," striking foes down with electric web whips and unnatural strength.

Thankfully, the original species can still be found in some remote forests, but they are incredibly rare. These monstrous versions are all people know now, and it is so unfair! A brilliant creature now turned into some undead nightmare! The gall of it all! It causes fear and hate towards the species, even the unaltered ones! Now anytime anyone even thinks of an electric spider, they think of these horrible electric terrors that kill and consume, stitching victims onto their growing mass. Vile! Disgusting! Oh how I would love to tear apart the necromancers responsible for this with may bare hands! Of course, Eucella is very adamant that I don't do this, and that I swear I won't go picking fight with necromancers. Hmph! Tell me what to do! She's still worried about that troll poaching incident. I was fine, I had everything under control! Yeah, so what if they were armed? So was I, with the power of justice and righteousness! Those who kill innocent beasts for no reason will hear from me! I WILL STRIKE THEM DOWN, even if it is only with my fists! Just ask those two poachers I beat to a pulp before Eucella dragged me off them! I could have done worse! (And they could have too, Chlora! There were FIVE poachers there! With spears! I stopped you from getting skewered like a vegetarian kebab, you ignorant weed! And also if you come to my office to rant about the intro again I swear I am locking you in the closet and going home for a long weekend. - E.R.)

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Bolt Spider"

Uh, it is actually called Frankenstein's Spider, thank you very much! Gosh, people!