#and they hide it under pretending to be your fucking ally.

[mothman-dyke]

as someone who has attended a community college, an extremely small and rural state college, and now a large (50000-student!) university, I am always comparing the differences in these experiences. and am aware that each experience is going to have its pros and cons. but honestly my time in grad school at this larger university has been a deeply radicalizing and upsetting experience.

I found attending community college, even at a young age as I did (18-20) really rewarding in that, because of the age-diversity of the student body, instructors were extremely respectful of their students as people with lives of their own. That wasn't quite so prominent at the state college, but you had a lot of well-intentioned liberal-ish types. they were hyper-respectful of student-professor boundaries, were very "it's ok to be LGBT!" and still baseline pretty chill.

In contrast, my experience in grad school has been a trainwreck. professors broadly feel entitled to your time at their discretion and often feel angry if you aren't available at any time. they trample over boundaries and, perhaps because the student-body is broadly older, feel comfortable saying pretty much anything. more than anything, though, in this progressive, university in a medium-sized city, I encounter more unhinged bigotry than I did in ether of my previous experiences. (Author's note: I also encounter far less female professors, which might have something to do with it.) Male professors have trampled boundaries, made sexualized comments to female students, and at every turn condescended to, berated, and verbally abused female students who don't fall in line and defer to them. the same professors have imitated my accent, compared lesbian sexuality to porn, and been openly shocked and agitated if students don't have the newest iphones.

this post is mostly about venting. I have always been passionate about academia and loved my time at my previous institutions, and this experience has been extremely disappointing in many ways. I have never felt more aware of how progressive misogyny, homophobia, and bigotry at large work within the institution, and I am deeply fucking disillusioned.

[artists-ally]

{Weather} Reader x Azriel

Hello people! My name is Ally and I am proud to enter the ACOTAR world with a bang. I've been writing for years and years now and thought eh fuck it why not start posting it.

So here I am. 100% not expecting this to go anywhere but if it does, come give me a shout! I'd love to hear what y'all have to say about it or hear your ideas for fic recommendations.

There isn't a whole lot of plot, just a thought that turned into another and I connected them. Enjoy!

Word Count ~ 7,523

Warnings ~ Language, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence/fighting, lets all pretend that you can winnow inside the House of Wind for a sec pls.

Summary ~ You have been encompassed into the Inner Circle after the Spring Court went to shit. During a dry stead between the Queens and Hybern, Azriel was sent on a mission to the Mortal Lands to see what was going on. There is little he can do to hide his rather harsh expedition. Set during ACOWAR, you provide a level of comfort for the shadowsinger that no one else is capable of.

~~~~~

All of us are sitting around the House of Wind, relaxing after another brutal day of training. I had been with Cassian, Mor with Rhysand and Feyre, Amren off doing Amren things. Azriel was… nowhere to be found. 

It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from him. We know he’s been spying in the Queen’s territory, but to not have a check in or for him to not come home to rest for days on end is concerning.

But what makes my gut churn is the smell of blood coming from upstairs. 

Azriel’s blood. 

Rhys and Cass get a whiff of their brothers' carnage and exchange a worried look with me. The three of us winnow up to his room and knock on his door.

“Az?” Cass says softly.

No response.

“Azriel, it’s Rhys, open the door,” Rhysand knocks a little harsher than Cassian had. 

No response. They can hear his labored breathing and groans, and the smell of blood. They didn’t bother to knock a third time. When his door unlocked on a phantom wind, the sight was horrifying. Az peered over his shoulder at the curse coming from Cass, and shook his head.

“I don’t want visitors,” he mumbled, trying to stand, but failing to do so. Rhys and Cassian rushed to his side, helping him sit back down. I remained in the doorway. Staring at his wings.

They were a little mangled to say the least. Cuts and scratches littered the delicate leather, some puncture wounds oozed trickles of blood and puss. 

“What in the name of the Cauldron happened?” Cassian demanded from the shadowsinger. 

“Tree snare, Mortal lands are littered with them,” He groaned. “I’m fine, please just- please leave.”

He never begged quite like that before. The desperation was a foreign thing to his tongue. He tried to straighten his spine, but it did no such thing. He hissed at the jarring of his wings, and settled into the curves of his hunched over position.

He looked awful. 

“Az, we can’t just leave you like this. We can get Madja in here-”

“No,” he plead again, tone more harsh than the last. “No… leave. I don’t want any help.”

Typical of Az to say such a thing. The quiet, reserved male was always so adamant about doing things on his own he forgot that sometimes it’s better to ask for help than to suffer in silence. Especially when it comes to such a delicate and sensitive body part. 

But alas, the two brothers nodded, stepping around the third and heading to the door. I moved out of their way, but not with them. I just continue to stare at his toned, berated back. 

“Yn…” he called out. “Don’t make me beg you too.”

I stiffened. 

I knew how hard this must be for him. To turn down his friends, to turn down aid. I don’t know Azriel very well, not like the others did after spending five centuries with him. But maybe that would… I don’t know

“I won’t say anything,” I promised. “Just let me clean you up, is all I’m asking.”

He sighed heavily, hanging his head in his hands, but he nodded. I quickly shut the door behind me and moved to the bathroom. Under his sink there was a little brown pouch with all kinds of medical supplies. I grabbed some towels and a bowl of hot water appeared by his feet. When I walked back into the main area, he had his chin fastened on his fist, looking out the big window. 

I stood next to him laying the open bag next to him so I could rummage through it. There were some wipes, some bandages and some thick cloth pads. I ripped open as many as I thought I needed and began to apply pressure to the wounds on his arms and shoulders. 

Az held a few while I drenched a cloth with the warm water and began to clean off the dirt and sap. 

He didn’t even seem to breathe, to even blink as I ran the cloth up and down his right arm, ditching it on the floor when it was too dirty to continue. I repeated my steps until the majority of him was clean. The bleeding had stopped for the most part and I applied an adhesive pad to the area to keep it covered. I couldn’t smell any infection on them so it was okay to conceal the wounds. Had there been a sticky, yellow goo then they would need to drain. 

Then I looked at his wings.

They weren’t shredded, but they were not in good condition by any means. They looked so painful.

I silently moved to the opposite side of the bed, kneeling into the mattress and spreading out more supplies.

“I-” he started, “please be gentle…”

“Of course,” I nodded, resting my hand on his shoulder to try and get them to relax. They sagged a bit, but didn’t stay there long. The second my fingers grazed the smooth flesh, he jumped.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, retracting my hands. “What hurts?”

“No, no it’s not painful, just very sensitive, I’ll try to hold still,” he apologized, displaying his wings, stretching them out all the way as if to brace them against the bed. They were massive. And most of the small cuts and snags littered the top and middle of the span, not towards the bottom. 

“This might sting a little, if it’s too much, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

He nodded, clutching the tops of his knees. His breathing was hard as I dabbed the first cotton ball to the sore area. It had been rubbed raw from Mother knows what. 

There had to be hundreds of them, if not a thousand scrapes and scratches. But they all didn’t need tending to, they would heal just fine. There were a few that I was concerned about and applied something to keep the bacteria from spreading. 

I gently slid my hand to his shoulder, pressing it down from his ear, telling him it was okay, that he was alright. 

He listened, settling down. I knew he must be in a lot of pain. There wasn’t much that I could’ve done beside what I did, but I did as much as I could to ease the tension. I summoned another rag and gently cleaned the skin on his back, wiping the mud baked onto his skin. Az relaxed more at that.

“I know it’s not really my place to ask, but if you would like to share what happened, I will patiently listen, Azriel. If not, I’ll enjoy the silence with you,” I offered, my hands coming to his shoulders, massaging the thick muscle.

He groaned in satisfaction, dipping his head forward and sagging downward. His arms slumped to his side as I drove my knuckle between the fibrous strands. Az ground his teeth, breathing with every knot I worked from his body. I drove my thumb in and around the base of his wings, careful not to brush against them.

Cassian had once told how sensitive Illyrian wings were. Why they were so sensitive. It made my cheeks blush, which I was taunted for endlessly. 

Azriel sucked in a breath.

I had been too busy thinking about all the things Cass and Rhys had teased me with and my thumb slipped, brushing the delicate nerves at the base of his spine. I could see the goosebumps etch his bronze skin. 

“S-Sorry,” I stuttered, fingers trembling, struggling to resume. “Do you need anything else? Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

I stood before he had a chance to say otherwise. I didn’t, truly didn’t, mean to brush over the hyper-sensitive area. 

Azriel just looked up at me with full eyes. They looked like strangers, not the deep, fierce set of hazel that I had come to know. They were like the shadows that whispered in his ear. There hadn’t been a glimpse of them in the hour or so that I’d been here tending to him. It’s as if they’ve vanished. 

His eyes were bright, filled with his pupils in a way that made him seem feline. Like a true predator hunting in the pit of night. 

“I…” Az started, swallowing hard before his eyes darted between mine. “Will you stay? Please?”

He reached his hand to grab mine, and I let him, his warm, scarred hands engulfing mine. I nodded precisely, a smile playing on my lips. He seemed to deflate then, a weight being lifted off his shoulders and he dragged me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head against my stomach. 

I let my arms fall over his shoulders, the strands of his inky black hair finding its way into my fingers. I tangled it between my digits gently, letting the soft curls form as I brushed them away, repeating the process. 

I had no idea how long we stayed there for, but enough for the once dimly lit room to ignite with fae light as the sun set over the Sidra. 

Azriel began to tug me closer. I had no choice but to crawl into his lap, letting my weight rest over one of his legs as he clung to me. 

I didn’t dare try and break this moment. 

I nestled into the dip between his shoulder and neck, letting my eyes lull shut as his warm body did the same. I let my thumbs brush against the smooth skin on the back of his shoulder, wanting to press a kiss there, but… not my place, I reminded myself. 

I had always cared for the Illyrian more than the others had. Was always the one wondering if what his shadows were whispering were things to him or about him. I knew he had a traumatic pass, and I knew he suffered a great deal during the early years of his immortal life, but things were… they weren’t great, but we were in a lull. With Hybern. Things were stalled so we took this time to cut back.

Not Az. He was always spying somewhere, reporting on new territories siding with us or the King, but nothing more. We all knew he needed a break, but never took one. It was frustrating. 

He shifted on the bed, then I felt a gust of wind encase my body. 

His wings enveloped me entirely.

I had not expected it. I was shocked to say the least. I tensed for a moment, and he must have sensed it because he began to retreat.

“No, no” I said, adjusting myself on his muscular thigh for a moment. “Put them back.”

He answered with the leathery wings covering us completely. I settled into the warmth, the soft scent they admitted. I had never felt so safe in my entire life, so completely safe and comforted. 

I didn’t know a lot about Illyrian tradition since I had been encompassed into the inner circle, but I knew enough that it was a great honor to see a pair of wings up close, let alone touch them. If he had let me do that, gods only knew what this meant.

I felt a tear hit my shirt. I heard him sniffle, then hiccup in a breath.

“Azriel…” I breathed out slowly, gripping him tighter as he clung to me, the sobs wracking through his body. He gasped for a breath every now and then, the tears falling faster with every breath. 

He cried for a long while. I wasn’t even sure if he knew how to do that. To cry, to be vulnerable with anyone. 

“It’s okay, Az, I’m here, I’m right here Az it’s okay,” I soothed, twisting his hair around my fingers once again. His breathing seemed to even out at that, sobs reduced to trickling tears and sniffles. 

I didn’t know what to do. 

I didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, he spoke. “I don’t know what you did, Yn… but you made the shadows go away. It is so quiet without their roar in my ear. In my bones… everything is silent. There are no whispers, no murmurs of potential threat. It is all quiet.”

My heart thundered in my chest so hard I thought it might break my rib cage. There were no words to describe the feeling in my body. I gripped him even tighter.

His hands stroked up and down my sides, gently nudging me to pull off. I did, meeting his glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His hand ever so gently came up to my face, fingers barely touching the surface of my skin as he looked into my eyes. So deep I thought he might see my thoughts. 

“Thank you,” was all he said. I nodded and smiled, tucking the hair behind his ears. “Besides Madja and my own mother, I have never let anyone touch my wings. Not even Rhys or Cassian. They are… my entire world. The most prized possession any Illyrian could hoist. They are my ticket to anywhere in the world and I let you touch them without a second thought.”

My eyes had widened at that. 

“In 500 years,” I gaped, “you’ve never let either of them touch your wings? Once?”

He shook his head, “Never. It is a privilege that few get to experience. Typically just mothers to their newborns, but once you learn to fly, you’re old enough to take care of them on your own. It becomes our responsibility to keep them safe and keep them clean. Of course there may be a medical need, but other than that, they are not to be touched. Only mates have that sacred right.”

My heart clenched. 

I’ve only been a part of this group since the middle of the war. I had left the Spring Court when Feyre had planted those lies. They spread to my territory and we all went our separate way. For the better. I chose to come and fight for what we all knew was right. I can’t say the same for the rest of my family. 

I had managed to hitch a few rides to Summer, right before Adrita was attacked. I fought alongside them, and none of them knew that I was from Spring besides Feyre. She had recognized me for the Tithe. We instantly connected and she offered me sanctuary with them while we fought against Hybern. I had exceptional knowledge of the Spring Court and The Wall, of who was going where and when. 

When we came back to Velaris, I was introduced to Amren, who just briefly looked up from that book, took a sip from a gauntlet, gave me a cold once-over, and went right back to the book. 

Nesta was much the same.

Elain hadn’t said much either, just asked me if I knew anything about the human lands. I was later informed on her betrothed. It made my heart hurt. 

Mor was undoubtedly my best friend. She really helped me get settled here in Velaris. She was the one to pick me up time and time again when I didn’t think I could go on. 

Rhysand was more of a gentleman than anyone painted him to be, especially all those years Under The Mountain. He was not a hostile homicidal maniac like Amarantha had painted for him. He was gentle, and kind, only being capable of those horrible things when he needed to be. 

Cassian was… well, Cassian. Big, strong, charming as ever. Dumber than a pile of rocks but a brute of a man nonetheless. He was my other best friend. My go-to drinking buddy and my favorite person to beat at cards. I would come with him and Nesta to Windhaven. He was not merciful. 

And then there was Azriel. He rarely spoke when he wasn’t prompted. He kept to himself, to those shadows, and wasn’t one for conversation. I had only spoken to him three or four times. Most of them during the war, once during Solstice to give him his gift. It was usually just… so, between us. 

Until now.

Until he let me touch his wings. 

Could it have been a possibility that-

As if he knew what I was thinking, “I didn’t know how to bring it up to you, Yn. I didn’t want to at first, cause I didn’t think you felt anything. Any type of bond. And I certainly didn’t want to bring it up right in the middle of the war, risk death, and then leave you alone forever. I couldn’t bring myself to leave you with that type of pain.”

My eyes stung. My heart thundered. Every fiber in my body became aware of just how close I was to him. I took in a deep breath, eyes blinking rapidly.

“If you… I don’t know if that is what you want,” he hesitated. “If I am what you want, but you are everything I’ve ever needed, Yn. You are the sunshine to my dark and hazy life. The only thing that can make my deep, roaring shadows disappear. Completely. It is calm and utterly silent when you are near. And when I get to hold you… Cauldron Yn, it is like a fresh breath of air. Like a torrential rain to my wildfire. It hasn’t been this quiet inside my body since the day I was born.”

There was nothing I could do to stop the tears from flowing. They hit the clothing between us, saturating the fabric and then drying. I didn’t know what to say. And I could tell that was killing him, my silence. He tensed beside me, gripping my arms a little tighter.

“Yn” he breathes, so softly. So gently than anyone ever had. 

I looked into his eyes, finding them to be so much more breathtaking than I did a little while ago.

“I don’t know what to say, Azriel,” I chuckled lightly. “I’m shocked, I just thought that you and Mor…”

“No,” he shook his head adamantly, “Not us. Not ever, I’m afraid. I spent a long time trying to… coax her, but she never budged. I decided I needed to look for someone else. For you.”

I smiled greatly. 

“Stay with me, tonight,” he grabbed both of my hands, placing kisses to each of them before folding them against his heart. “Let me give this to you, slowly, at your own pace. It is yours, Yn. It always has been. Let it be yours, if you choose.”

His eyes, glowing and begging me to say something. When he pressed his lips to my hands, I could feel my chest tighten in a way it hadn’t before, constrict around itself until it let loose and erupted from within. Everything I had hoped for, spent countless hours dreaming of, pestering my mother about stories of when she found out my father was her mate, came true at that moment. 

An unrelenting pull in his direction, a deceptively overwhelming feeling of trust and sureness that seemed to never end crashed through me. It was like I was looking at him for the first time. Like I opened my eyes and the first images I was blessed with seeing were of him, of Azriel, this shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court. 

A piece of a puzzle locked into place, one that I hadn’t even known existed yet. And here it was, front and center in my mind, so clear it almost blinded me. 

All I could do was smile. Smile and nod my head as I watched his teeth flash before he wrapped me up in his arms. He giggled, tossing me over his shoulder and rolling me around on his enormous bed. I laughed and laughed, letting him pepper my skin with kisses. 

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this, Yn,” He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, clutching my fingers in the other. “How long I have needed a mate.”

“I think I might have an idea,” I smiled, tucking some hair behind his ear. He rolled his eyes, scooping me up and laying me on top of his chest.

Cauldron knows how long we stayed like that for, just talking and smiling at each other, kissing every now and then. When I grew too tired to keep my head up, his wings encased me again, that soft, musky scent circling around me. 

“Rest, my Yn,” he whispered, his arms coming around my waist. “We can talk all day tomorrow.”

+++++++

The sun made him look like the most perfect shade of bronze. His dark, inky hair was a mess over his eyes, his tattoos swirling across his shoulders. His wings were still folded around me, keeping my body pressed to his all night long. 

Azriel slept, another thing I wasn’t sure he actually knew how to do. 

I shifted my legs around, detangling them from his. He groaned, but let them go, only tightening his grip around my torso.

“Az,” I whispered, "we need to get up, training is in an hour.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, tucking his head beneath my chin. The hair on his head smelled like the Sidra; salty and lemony. So calming and soothing. I let him, and myself, have a few more minutes, just basking in each other. But I eventually did have to be the fun killer.

“I’m sure Cassian will understand if you don’t want to train today, but I unfortunately don’t have any excuse. I have to get ready and go eat before I go. Let me up, please.”

He let go reluctantly, making a big huff as I climbed away from him.

I laughed, “You know I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but I wanted to spend this morning with you. I want to spend all my time with you.”

My heart swooned. “Come to breakfast with me. Even if you don’t want to train you can still come and watch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but followed me nonetheless. I got changed into my fighting leathers, and Az strolled behind me to the dining room. I greeted everyone like I normally would, as did Azriel. They could instantly tell, because he wore a smile on his lips the entire meal, taking up the empty seat next to me, which normally was Mor’s.

When she strolled in, she gave him a high eyebrow and he shrugged. She looked at me and I had to suck my lips into my mouth to keep from cackling out. I mouthed ‘I'll tell you later’.

When I rose from my seat, so did Azriel, following me into the kitchen.

“When will you be back?” He asked softly, cradling me close.

“By noon, Mor and I have some work we need to do at Rita’s,” I responded, falling into his warmth. “Are you going to be alright here?”

He nodded against my shoulder, “I just don’t want you to go, is all. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.”

My heart sank at that. I was just happy to offer him at least some moments of rest in his utterly chaotic life. If I was able to give him any sort of relief, I’d stop at nothing to make sure that he has access to it whenever he pleases. Who was I to deny him of that?

He stepped away, pressing his lips into my forehead a few times. 

“Have a good training session, please don’t get beat up too bad, I have plans for later,” he smiled, rubbing the sides of my arms.

“Oh?” I tilted my head.

“It’s a surprise, now get going, Cass is waiting for you.”

“Don’t blow a gasket when I come back with bruises from him,” I chuckled. 

He straightened, real concern coming into his eyes. “Maybe I should come-”

“No, no I’ll be okay,” I explained. “Cassian has beat my ass more times than I could count and you were able to hold it in. I’ll be fine, it’s never anything too bad anyway, nothing I can’t handle. I'd really rather not see you bash his face in because he got in a couple of good shots.”

That didn’t make it any better. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. 

“Hey!” Cassian called from down the hall. “Put your lover's quarrel on hold, we gotta go, Yn. If you’re not out here in 30 seconds I’ll make you go up and down the steps every second you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes, impatient bastard.

“I need to go,” I said, removing his hands from my body. “I will come find you when I’m back. Try and relax, okay? I’ll be fine, you know that.”

He just nods briefly before stepping out of the way to let me pass. He caught my elbow at the last second, kissing me so intensely I thought I might fall over. When he let me go, he was smirking like a cat. 

++++++

The bond must have already been slipping into place because I could feel this agonizing pull back to the House of Wind. But it also felt like he was right here with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was spying from the shadows, something for him and I to talk about later.

Cassian and I had gone through our normal workouts, doing footwork drills and some strength training. But of course, even after almost collapsing to the floor himself, he wanted to spar. 

“Can’t we just skip it for today?” I begged, rolling my head to look at him. 

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “You need more practice, and I know it’ll come in handy against Hybern. If you ever find yourself without a weapon, all you’ll have is your fists. And seeing the look on Az’s face will be priceless.”

“You know,” it wasn’t really a question.

“I’ve known before he has,” Cassian huffed. “I pointed it out to him after about three times of you being near him. His shadows always disappeared and I found him staring at you. He didn’t even realize, said that he hadn’t even noticed things were quiet because he was too busy thinking of you.”

My heart lurched in my chest, filling with pride and triumph. “I don’t know what it is that I do.”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “That is the whole point of being a mate, things just simply work.”

“I have given it a ton of thought in the past, about what it would feel like to have a mate, to have a bond with someone. It’s… so much different than I expected it to be. I miss him so much more than I thought I would. I thought I’d be able to ignore it, but I can’t.”

“Welcome to having a mate,” Cassian snickered, taking up a fighting stance. I followed suit, circling around him and dodging his blows. I wasn’t lucky enough to escape them all, one particularly hard kick sent me to my knees, and then Cassian was on top of me. 

He flatten me like a bug and flipped me on my back. His forearm pressed into my throat, cutting off oxygen. I coughed, blood rushing to my face, my vision darkening. 

“Come on, Yn, what have I taught you to do?” he pressed further into my esophagus. I drove my knee as hard as I could into his crotch, causing him to hiss, loosening his grip, faltering. 

I smacked him as hard as I could in the face, sending him toppling to the ground. It had been hard, harder than I really meant to. I could see his eyes darken as he rose to his feet, really wanting a challenge now. He started to run towards me, and I braced myself for the impact, but it never came. 

I saw a shadow blurr by and Cassian was vaulted 12 feet in the air. He made a dent in the earth as he drove through the soil. In seconds, he was encased in tendril like smoke. One that I recognized all too well.

“Az-”

“I am going to kill you,” the voice was so foreign. Azriel straddled Cassian as he held him up by the collar of his shirt. “How dare you put your hands on my mate.”

I climbed through the ropes of the ring as fast as I could, jumping down and off the platform. I sprinted the distance between us as fast as I could. I screamed his name, but couldn’t hear me over the roar of the shadows. 

Before I could get there, Cassian had thrown him off and was ready to fight. The two went at each other so hard I was genuinely worried that Azriel was going to hurt him. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took off towards the townhouse. 

I barged in the door, huffing puffing, and red faced as the door smacked off the wall. 

“Cauldron alive, Cassian, how many times have I told you not- Yn?” Rhysand’s eyes immediately softened. “Are you alright?” “I was sparring with Cassian and Azriel came out of nowhere,” I rushed, barely able to speak over my labored breathing. “Last night he told me I’m his mate and I think he might actually kill-”

“Oh shit,” Rhys cursed, grabbing my arm and winnowing us both to the sight. They were still scrapping, both bleeding from the face. Azriel looked like an animal, and Cass looked like he was genuinely afraid. I haven’t ever seen him look like this, either of them. 

Rhys threw himself in the middle, trying to get Azriel’s attention. He paid no mind to his High Lord, throwing him off his back as he lunged for Cassian again. I went to step in, to try and get his attention but-

“Yn no,” Rhysand shouted from a few feet away. That caught Azriel’s attention quickly. He looked up from where he had Cassian in a chokehold, eyes locking with mine. In a second, he vanished from Cass and appeared behind me. His arms were strong and tight around my middle. A snarl ripped from his chest as Cassian rose to his shaky feet. 

His shadows encased us, creating a shield. He took staggering steps back, inhaling and exhaling so hard I thought he might pass out. Rhysand moved to check on his brother, Cassian battering him away as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Azriel,” I said through a hurried breath. “Az it’s me, it’s me.”

He inhaled deep, scenting the air, letting out a deep breath. His grip loosened and he said my name like an old forgotten prayer. 

The shadows vanished immediately, his heavy body leaning against mine. 

“Yn…” he breathed, turning me around. I shrugged his hands off of me, more than pissed at him for barging and attempting to kill his brother. 

“Go inside,” I said, turning away from him. 

“Yn please-” “I don’t wanna hear it from you,” I shouted, eyes blazing. He took a small step back, ears flattening back against his head, wings tucking in tightly to his body. 

“That’s right, shadowsinger, go back-”

“Not another word from you either,” I snarled at Cassian. He, too, jumped in his skin. “You have nothing to brag about either. Don’t you dare put your hands on my mate like that again.”

Silence rippled around us. Rhys lifted his hand, opened his mouth to say something, but the glare I sent him had him scratching the back of his head quickly. 

“I swear to the Mother that if anything happens while I’m with Mor at Rita’s, I’ll kick all of your asses myself. And don’t think for a second that I won’t drag Feyre into this either.”

That was more than enough to get the Illyrians to look the other way, words forgotten in their minds. I turned on my heel and grabbed my water from the corner before stalking off down the street to find Mor. 

++++++

“He just appeared out of thin air?” Mor’s eyes were wide.

I nodded, “It was like he was waiting for something to happen. He would have killed Cassian, I’m sure of it, if Rhys hadn’t been there, and said my name to snap Az out of it.”

“Sounds like someone needs a little time alone with their new mate,” Mor’s eyebrows waggled on her forehead. I smacked her arm and she boomed a laugh. “I’m just suggesting.”

“It hasn’t even been a day since he told me, Mor, and he’s acting like he owns me. Rhys didn’t dare do this with Feyre,” I shook my head. 

“Well,” she countered. “Rhys did almost kill Cassian once.”

“I know, I’ve heard the story a million times,” I sighed. “But that was after the Weaver and all that. They had mated and had time for the bond to be in place. There weren’t any problems until that and Az and I have barely kissed a handful of times. That’s it. How can he be this… territorial?”

“Az is unexplainably protective. Of all of us. Before you came along he was like that with all of us. In a different way, but… he’d never let any of us volunteer before he looked into it or did it himself. It is rooted deep within him, in a way none of us will understand.” “Even so, it doesn’t make it okay for him to do what he did.” “I don’t disagree,” she added, “but just try and understand where he is coming from. Yn, you are the only one who he has come across that can make his head silent. To stop the shadows and the constant whispers. I don’t know about you, but if that were me, I’m sure I’d do everything in my power to make sure nothing ever happens to my peace and quiet.”

+++++

When I came back with More, she bid me good luck before Winnowing herself back down to the Townhouse.

I came to the main dining room, Cassian, Rhysand and Feyre all sitting at the table. 

“Okay, what the hell happened today?” Feyre demanded, noticing the bruises on my neck. 

“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” I snorted, letting down my shields so she could see it all. She flinched slightly when Az landed a particularly brutal blow to Cassian’s face. It sent blood spewing from his mouth.

“Has anyone seen him?” I asked with a sigh. No one answered, but I heard something. I whipped my head from side to side, this deafening roar in my ears. 

“What?” Rhysand asked. 

“You all don’t hear that?” I asked, eyes wide as I searched for the thunderous sound. I listened deeper and deeper, not hearing any words. I suddenly felt a chill in my bones so cold I thought I’d freeze right there. There were so many voices and whispers. 

I looked up to the set of grand stirs and noticed the shadows lurking at the top. 

Azriel… 

I sprinted up the stairs, the tendrils leading me down the hall and to his room. When I opened the door, the room was almost pitch black, shadows swirling around and around like an endless storm over the Sidra. 

I tried to push my way through, but I rebound off of it like a shield. I tried again, screaming his name. He was in the center. And I had no way of getting to him. I began to panic, shouting for him louder and louder.

Nothing, no response from my shadowshinger. I took a deep breath and shoved my body against the wall, bouncing off of it immediately. I slammed hard against the floor, back groaning as I pushed myself to all fours. I tried to crawl, but it was no use, it flung me back and into the hallway where Ryhs, Cassian, and Feyre were all standing, Mor popping up next to her.

“What the fuck-” Mor gasped, seeing it for herself. 

“He’s in there,” I heaved, “Mor I can’t get to him what do I do?”

She was at a loss for words and Rhys slid beside her, taking it all in. He did nothing to hide his wide eyes and frantic look. His own shadows rose and tried to comfort the tempest, but failed. The roar in my ears grew so loud I couldn’t hear whatever Rhysand said to me. I tried to read his lips, follow the bond.

I felt deep inside, it was so cold. If I didn’t know any better I wouldn’t have known anything was there at all. I pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled. I must have screamed because everyone around me flinched. I went slack against the wall and covered my ears, calling out for Azriel. Begging for him to come to me. 

A flicker. I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest. Against my soul, I felt a tug, as if he too was pulling on the same thread that ties us together. I pulled faster and faster until I slammed into something so hard I gasped. 

It was rock solid, something so impenetrable, like magic itself. I beat on it with everything I had, prying at it with my whole being until it began to give away. I tore this wall apart, it grew warmer and warmer-

She doesn’t want a mate, she doesn’t want me…

There is no meaning if I do not have her to protect, she doesn’t want me to protect her.

Useless, dumb, bastard born Illyrian filth.

Rhysand and Cassian should have left you in that acid bath and left you to dissolve into nothing. They should not have saved someone so vain and cowardly.

These were not my thoughts, but they sure felt like it. I looked towards the swirling wind and shadow, finally seeing Azriel at the center, crumbled to the floor, hands over his ears. 

“Azriel,” I shouted. He didn’t move.

“What’s happening?” Rhysand asked, helping me to stand on my feet.

“I-I don’t know I just felt this rush of thoughts and now I can see him but he can’t hear me,” I felt the tears in my eyes. He looked around, as if searching for his own thoughts, but then he stood rigid, throwing a glance at Cassian. They seemed to share a thought before Rhys turned back to me. 

“Speak in your mind,” he said hurriedly. “You have to talk to him in your mind.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it,” he urged, and I turned back to face the raging storm. 

Azriel… I whispered. 

I watched him flinch, hand bracing on the corner of his bed. His eyes and cheeks were wet with tears when they met mine. 

Yn… 

Az you have to take this down so I can get to you, I begged, it’s too strong for me to get through let me in.

He went silent.

Az please let me in. I can make the shadows go away, remember? I can make all of this go away, you just have to calm it down enough for me to get to you.

I can’t.

Why?

I am the shadows, and they are me.

“What is he saying?” Rhysand asked. 

“He just said he can't tame them, that he is the shadows and they are him,” I shook my head, threading my fingers in my hair. “I can help him but I can’t get to him.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, eyes wary.

“With my life, High Lord,” I said, because it was true. 

He grabbed my hand and the familiar hollowness of winnowing encased me. He tried to drop me right next to Az, but it seemed to be warded. I was instantly flung away from him and hit the wall so hard I saw stars. Feyre came to my side immediately as the bright light in the hallway dimmed. 

I forced myself up and boiled with rage. How dare he, my mate, keep me from him. I trudged forward, a small limp to my gate but I kept on pressing, despite the protests from behind me. I came to the whirling wind and shadow, staring at it. 

I placed my palm against it and closed my eyes. 

I know this is you, shadowsinger. These shadows, this wall… but it is not Azriel, not my mate. He would never keep me away. He’d want me right next to him, holding him as we weather this storm together. I know you are one in the same, and I know I make you go away and you are angry. He is the shadows, and you are him. I am his mate, meaning he is a part of me. I am the sun that casts the shadows you need. I am the maker of your shadows. Without one there cannot be another, without my mate there is no one to harness your strength. Let me in, let me cast the sunshine so that your shadows may sing once again.

There was almost a noise of discontent before the roar in my ear withered away. It disbanded like fog in the early spring mornings. The wind and shadows misted away, the room and hallway no longer swirling in a veil of darkness. 

In the center of the room shook Azriel, arms trembling as he looked around at the sudden brightness. 

I didn’t know I even gave my feet permission to move until I was collapsing into his lap. I hiccuped a sob so hard I thought my lungs burst open. 

Azriel buried his face into my neck, breath just as ragged. I cried uncontrollably, crushing him with my arms, I’m sure. 

I felt warmth and tenderness encase my body. I felt a tap against my shields and I let them down, welcoming Az’s shadows without a second thought. His thoughts became mine, and vice versa. There wasn’t a part of us in that moment that wasn’t connected. Our minds, our hearts, our souls seemed to tangle in each other. 

It must’ve been a long while before we detangled because everyone had left. 

I, begrudgingly, pulled myself from him, sitting up to look at his tear stained face.

“Don’t you dare do something like that ever again,” I breathed, resting my forehead against his. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be that harsh with Cassian-”

“What?” I asked, brows knitting together. “No no no, not that, whatever the hell that shadow wall was.”

“You’re not mad at me for beating the shit out of Cassian?” He asked, equally as confused.

“Well,” I sighed. “I’m not happy about it, but for the love of the Mother if you ever shut me out like that again, when I break through, I will kill you.”

It was a promise so deep even he knew it was true. He just nodded, kissing both of my cheeks before my lips. 

“I’m sorry, Yn,” a tear trickled down my face. “I saw Cassian choking you and on top of you and it blinded me with a rage so unexplainable. I don’t even remember doing it. It was an afterthought by the time I came out of it. And you looked so infuriated at me I just- I panicked. It had been so quiet for a good while it was like I forgot about the shadows entirely and they took over my being. It was so foreign and strange and they rained down upon me with such vengeance-”

“I know, I know,” I said, combing his hair with my fingers. “We… had a talk. We came to an agreement.”

“Agreement? A bargain?” he asked, a little concerned. 

I shook my head, “no, not a bargain. We just saw eye to eye on things. A favor, I guess you could call it.” I let the words I had once spoken filter into his mind. Azriel had this starry look in his eyes when the words were over with. 

“You talked to the shadows…” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “H-How did you-”

“Rhys tried to winnow me to you but it must’ve been warded because the next thing that I knew was the wall against my back,” I hissed as his hands crept up my shoulder. His touch was featherlight as he examined, lifting up my shirt to reveal the bruises forming along my spine. 

“Yn… Yn I am so sorry I hurt you…” his eyes feel so dark, I worried for a second that another tempest was coming. 

“No, Azriel look at me,” I grabbed his face between my hands and made him look up at me. “This was not your fault. You and the shadows are not the same thing. You two, like I said, may share the same being, but you are not your shadows. You are Azriel, my Azriel.”

The color came back to his eyes almost instantly. There was a new set of tears in his face as he landed on my chest, arms tightening around my waist. 

“Thank you, Yn… for seeing me, not just the shadows.”

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[shadowqueenjude]

“Bitch” wow! I don’t see the reason for getting so heated over these characters. They don’t actually exist you know? You’re not defending anyone’s honour or being some saint here. I didn’t mean anything in a bad way, I was trying to have a rational conversation because I’ve never come across an IC hater and wanted to know why you didn’t like them. But obviously having a rational conversation is out of your zone of abilities since it didn’t take a lot for you to get down to name calling. My only suggestion to you because I truly wish the best for you is control that anger and learn to listen to other people before someone shows you your place. It won’t be nice. Good luck bbg 💜💜

You're the one coming in anon and shitting on characters that I like. What did you expect??? I'm going to defend my characters, obviously. You want my dissertation on why I hate each member of the Inner Circle? Let's start with captain asshole Rhysand: Rhysand: Sexually assaulted Feyre, did not apologize, licked Amarantha's boots for fifty years to "protect" no one since he only rules 1/3 of his court. He claims to be uber powerful yet he can't control misogyny within 2/3 of his court. But it's totally fine to go into Tarquin's house, steal an important possession, then act superior later when his wife's antics in Spring caused Summer to be invaded. Pretends to give his wife a "choice" while not giving her crucial information, i.e. that he wouldn't be helping her out with the Weaver at all. Locked Lucien in a house, made rape jokes about his mother, altogether treated him like shit for no reason. Then the Inner Circle acts all shocked and furious that their "masks" as "bad guys" fooled everyone and act violent towards literally everyone not Inner Circle there. Rhysand forcibly shut Tamlin's mouth, Feyre burned Lucien and Eris's innocent mother, Azriel nearly choked Eris to death. Ironically, Cassian acted the most sane here. After Tamlin saved Feyre and Rhysand's lives multiple times, Rhysand has the gall to tell Tamlin to kill himself despite knowing they'll need him as an ally, which is a terrible thing to do and also made Lucien's life harder. ACOSF he locks Nesta in a house and hides the malignant nature of his wife's pregnancy from her. That's just the gist of it. Cassian: Rhysand's dog. He need to grow a fucking spine. He never defends Nesta in front of Rhysand, and constantly abuses her physically and mentally. Won't let her eat sugar, forces her to train, tells her everyone hates her, makes her hike a fucking mountain for having the nerve to disobey rhysand and tell feyre the truth she deserved to hear. Then again in HOFAS not defending Nesta in front of Rhysand when he was screaming at her for giving away the trove and telling her she should've killed Bryce instead. THAT. IS. YOUR. MATE. He treats all the women in his life better than her, like mor and feyre. Azriel: A fucking weirdo violent creep. He needs to man tf up and admit Lucien is the superior man. His creeping on Mor for 500 years when she's clearly not interested is not cute. Nor is choking Eris to death in an important political meeting. Nor is treating Elain like a helpless object and masturbating to a gag gift he gave her. I'lL dEfEaT hIm WiTh LiTtLe EfFoRt boi stfu no you can't and Lucien has done NOTHING to you. I have absolutely ZERO respect for a character who treats the nicest guy in the series like that. Elain is not a child to be fought over. He's so pathetically jealous that Lucien is a good dude and has a mate and is better than him at everything. He needs to admit his homoerotic desire for Lucien and get it over with. Or let Eris humble him. Either way. Mor: the biggest hypocrite of all time. I aM a DrEaMeR aNd I gOt OuT so did it ever occur to you that maybe you're not the only dreamer? You're not even going to try to save good people stuck under the Court of Nightmares or ask your High Lord to? You just write them off because you're the only good one? And you want to throw Nesta into the court of nightmares? You don't do shit when Cassian is harassing Nesta? You're a bitch and not a girl's girl at all. If there's ANYTHING women should be united on, it's creepy dudes. ESPECIALLY if one of them is your best friend. Amren: this bitch should've stayed dead after ACOWAR. How dare she talk to Nesta the way she did in ACOSF? She KNEW how much Nesta was hurting and she did it anyway. She's over 15 thousand years old. What a bitch. They're all part of an elitist establishment and the epitome of modern politics that needs to be destroyed. Oh, I'm sorry? Should I apologize for saying "bitch" when you're the one coming in hot on my anons? How about you get a life besides harassing people who disagree with you first?

[rozaceous]

the blorbo-ification of korvin kwan

set in a combo of @vermillioncrown's 'the pros and cons of digging your own grave' and my 'a sunset every hour,' i wrote a scene for verm as gift fic, because i was so affronted by how mean the narrative was to My Boy (korvin) and how much i wanted him to get wrapped in a blanket and also have a dental visit. hence the title--i spiritually adopted him in a hopefully less cracked version of 'you lost the rights to your oc bc you were mean to them.' (we've all seen the screenshots of those posts, right???)

so this is allie finding out that dick grayson has been hiding an entire twelve year-old from her. she is not well pleased lmao.

Allie’s pretty sure that she’s timed Dick’s work schedule correctly, but she’s also willing to wait outside the doorstep of his latest safe house until he arrives and soothes her frazzled nerves about his general state of being.

What Allie is not expecting is for not-Dick to answer the door, and especially she isn’t expecting that someone to be a wavy-haired East Asian boy who opens the door but doesn’t undo the chain lock, peering through the gap between door and frame all squinty-eyed.

“Um,” says Allie, eyes flashing to the 302 on the door, which is exactly the number it should be. “I’m…looking for Dick?”

The evaluative quality of the kid’s stare does not diminish. “You’re too young to be a girlfriend.”

She’s helpless against the instant full-face squinch that sentence causes. “We’re more like mutually adopted siblings,” she hazards, voice tight, and regretful that everything regarding the usage of Dick's name sounds inappropriate for the public, especially under-eighteens.

A pause.

“Mr Richard didn’t tell you he underwent child acquisition,” he observes.

“He didn’t, and he’s going to rue that fact until the day he dies.”

“Sounds like siblings, yeah. You’re Allie, then?”

“He talked about me to you but couldn’t be bothered to mention you to me?” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I was trying to pretend to not-hear him talk to you on the phone. Not really possible in this shoebox.” Some of the squinting eases. “If you can prove who you are, I can let you in until Mr Richard gets back. Otherwise I’m calling the cops.”

Allie is…impressed by that statement, she's pretty sure. “I haven’t got a driver’s license yet, but I’ve got a learner’s permit and a library card. Sufficient evidence?”

A hand pokes through the gap, fingers making grabby motions. Three minutes later has her standing in the kitchen, shoes and coat off, and peering at the meal prep in progress.

“Korvin,” as she’s been informed is the kid’s name, “I know Dickard’s idea of a good meal is take-out, but what the fuck? Do you seriously have to cook it yourself if you want a vegetable?”

“Mr Richard makes sure I get fed,” is the dodgy reply, and Allie knows what covering for someone you don’t want to get in trouble sounds like. So she decides straightforward is best.

“Look, I love Dick to bits,” she tells Korvin. “But his life is held together by silly string, boyish charm, and Barbara. Fuck,” she realizes, pulling her flip phone from her back pocket. She holds the power button until the screen lights on. “Yeah, hope that freaks them both out and gets him over here tout de suite.” She puts her attention back on Korvin, who is regarding her with similar wariness as when he first opened the door. “My point is, if you’re not getting taken care of, you tell me, and I make sure it happens. Capische?”

Korvin seems a little too stunned or cagey or something to reply.

She flips her phone back open and opens her contacts before pressing the device into his hands. “Put your number in and text yourself so you can contact me. Which, by the way, is an ��anytime’ kind of offer.”

Another, slightly wide-eyed look, and Korvin follows her instruction.

Twenty minutes later and even the way that Dick opens the door tells Allie that he knows he’s about to get the ass-chewing of his life. He slinks through the entry like a dog pretending it doesn’t know a thing about the torn up couch cushions, grinning brightly and waving at her across the apartment where she’s removing vegetables from the oven.

“Hey, Allie!” She’ll give him credit that nervousness makes his voice waver only slightly. “See you and Korv met!”

"Hm."

[farity]

There is only one bed

Pairing: Modern AU Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary:  Spies running from a common enemy find refuge in a tiny inn.

Warnings:  Smut

You surfaced from the lake, barely feeling your limbs due to the freezing temperatures.  Your earpiece was gone to shit and there was no chance of communicating with your team.  

You were on your own.

The city was quiet, the pre-dawn light enough to guide you through the familiar cobblestones.  If you didn’t change out of these clothes you were going to end up too sick to be able to take care of yourself.  There was an inn not far from here, if you remembered correctly.

A noise to the left caught your attention.  You leaned into a door frame, pressing yourself against the side in order to let the source of the noise become more apparent.  

A tall man, dressed in black, came into view.  He was walking slowly and if tradecraft had taught you anything about reading people, he seemed to be wounded.  Immediately, your hand went to your side, where your blade lay neatly along the seam of your jacket.  

He was making his way down the narrow street where you were hiding, and now you could see him pressing an arm to his side.  

Stealthily you progressed from door frame to door frame, hiding as you kept up with him.  It wasn’t difficult as he seemed to be slowing down, and soon you had managed to place yourself past him.  The inn was about two blocks away and you had to figure out if this guy was friend or foe.

“I can hear you.”

His voice was barely audible, but you did not react.  Was he speaking to you or to someone he was working with?

He repeated the sentence in various languages, each time his voice sounding more and more tired.

If he was pretending to be injured, he was very good at it.

“Soon alight are the morning doves.”

The phrase was one you had been instructed to use amongst fellow allies.  American, British, Westerosi, etc. all would recognize the phrase in various languages.

He stopped, and your heart began pounding in your ears.  If he didn’t recognize the phrase, you had to get ready to fight.  

“Beware the lying clocks for the time is not yet here.”

Fuck it, you thought, if he is a foe who somehow knows the phrase and the response, we have bigger problems to deal with.

You crossed the narrow road and stopped about five feet from him.  “I’m visiting from Virginia,” you said quietly, referencing the headquarters of your organization.

You saw his shoulders visibly relax, although his arm remained pressed to his side.  “A tourist from Dragonstone.”

His face was mostly covered by the hood of his jacket, but when he lifted his head you saw sharp angles, a wide mouth, lips pressed together in pain, and piercing blue eyes.  “Had a bit of a scrape,” he added.

“Come on,” you took his other arm, draping it over your shoulders.  He let you take some of his weight.  “I have a medi kit, and there’s an inn-”

“A couple of blocks away.”

You nodded, keeping your pace slow alongside him.  

“You’re soaking wet.”

“Early morning lake dive.”

“You traveling all alone, dragon boy?” you asked.  In the distance, you could see the familiar roof of the inn.

“Got left behind during a little bar fight.”

* * * * * 

Aemond had to keep gritting his teeth to keep himself from groaning in pain.  At least the inn was only a few feet away now, and the woman who had miraculously appeared out of nowhere - thank the Seven - said she had meds with her.  He could heal up, contact his superiors, get some supplies and get on with his mission.

“I’ll talk,” she said when she opened the inn door.  She slipped out from under his arm, stepped in.  The older gentleman behind the desk was reading his paper and looked up in surprise.  “Hello,” she said cheerfully.  “Got any rooms?”

He was staying a couple of feet behind her, not wanting to draw any attention.  If there was something Aemond was good at, it was not being noticed.

“One.  Single.”

“I’ll take it,” she said, and placed a passport and a card on the desk.  

Once finished, he followed her down the hallway, thank the Seven the room was in the same floor because he wasn’t sure he could deal with stairs quietly.  

The room was serviceable enough, one bed pressed against the wall and he sighed.  It was better than nothing, he reminded himself.  “You can have the bed,” he said.

“Lay down.  I need to figure out how bad your wound is.”

She began taking her jacket off, then her pants, and placed them on the towel heating rack.  Her t-shirt was next, and while he was almost delirious with pain, his eyes still fucking worked and goddamn, she was gorgeous.  

She turned on the shower while he laid down on the bed, pulled up the hem of the sweater he wore, hissing when the fibers stuck to the wound.  

“Could you not?  Just let me get my kit.”  

A minute later she pulled the chair next to the little table over, turned on the lamp.  “God, this is useless,” she slapped on a headlamp and opened a small canvas bag.  “Jesus, when did you get this?”

“Couple days,” he said, breathing through the pain.

“Well, it’s infected.  Here,” she pulled out a tiny bottle of whiskey, gave it to him.  “Drink.”  She began taking items out of the canvas bag.

“I need to make contact with-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  You’re a couple days away from sepsis here.  I need to clean it and that’s going to hurt.  Drink.”

“I don’t know you,” he protested.

“Are all Westerosi this stubborn?  If I wanted you dead, I could have kicked you in the gut and left you to rot.”  She gently swiped a disinfecting pad along the cut on his abdomen and he let out a long stream of what she knew was High Valyrian but she didn’t quite catch what the words were.  “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

He let out a laugh and then groaned in pain.  

“Sorry, will keep my brilliant wit to myself.”

Aemond closed his eyes and summoned all the techniques he’d learned to deal with torture while she cleaned out the wound, added some kind of ointment to it, and dressed it in clean bandages.  When she was done, he was breathing heavily but felt a little better at having had the wound looked at.

“Okay, that’s done.  You have a fever and a pretty neat infection, so I am going to hop in the shower which is hopefully hot now while you turn over.”

“Why?”

“I have antibiotics.  I need to give you a shot.”

* * * * * 

The water could generously be described as warm, but at least it was taking the edge off the chill you felt.  You had paid for two nights, and hopefully dragon boy would heal up and you could each go on your way.  

You padded out of the shower, wrapped a nice warm towel around yourself and decided that would be your outfit until your clothes dried.  You grabbed a binder clip out of the tiny tool kit in your boot and secured it over the edge of the towel.

He was very well built, you decided, I mean he had to be to do this kind of work.  There was a definitely a six pack there, you had noticed while cleaning out his wound.  There had been some debris and fibers from his sweater in the shallow cut and you’d done your best to make sure it could heal well.

When you walked back into the room, he was laying on his side.  He had taken off his jacket and his pants were loose around his waist, which meant he’d unbuttoned them in order to give you access.  

“You could inject me in the shoulder, you know,” he said.

“I’m giving you more than 1 mL, and are you seriously going to fight me over this?”

“Nope, no, I’m not,” he said, "thank you, by the way, I appreciate the help.”

You sat on the chair again, lowered the waistband of his pants and the boxers he wore beneath. 

Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a prime example of a world class ass.

Taking your kit, you swiped an alcohol pad over the outer, upper quadrangle of one very inviting ass cheek, then readied your syringe.  “Three, two, one,” you said, before pushing the needle in.  He didn’t react as you slowly pushed in the antibiotic.  Once done, you pulled out the needle and pressed a new alcohol pad over for a few seconds.  “You’re done.”

“That was very gentle, thanks.”  He pulled up his boxers and pants and sat up on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you the bed.”

You sighed.  “Whatever misguided chivalrous bullshit you’re spewing right now needs to stop.  You need to rest and so do I, so scoot against the wall and I’ll lay on the outside and we’ll be happy little grown ups, okay?”

He looked at you for a few seconds, then scooted until there was enough room for you to lay down.

“Look at you, being all sensible and all,” you said cheerfully.

He gave you a look before turning over slowly.  “Get under the covers,” he replied.

You did, hoping he didn’t snore too loudly because you needed some fucking sleep after everything you’d been though.  You wished you could put your ear plugs in but honestly, one of you needed to be able to react if needed and that was not going to be him.  Not with the sedative you’d added to the antibiotics.  He needed rest if the meds were going to clear his infection and you couldn’t get boggled down with a wounded ally if you were going to make it back to your team.  You’d sleep for a bit, then try and figure out your next steps.

* * * * * 

Aemond opened his eyes, and realized he was cradling a soft, delicious breast in his hand.  He didn’t quite remember taking anyone to bed recently, but there was a very female body pressed against him.  Whoever it was, she was asleep, and her hair smelled like lavender.  He turned his head, trying not to wake her, saw the darkened room, and remembered.

Oh, shit.

He immediately froze and began wondering how to get himself out of the situation.  There were two thin layers between them, the sheet and the blanket, but the towel she’d wrapped around herself had long ago been pushed down.  She made a little noise and wiggled against him and he felt her ass pushing against his cock and fuck this, he started getting hard.

He had to get his arm out from under her, the last thing he wanted after all she’d done for him was for her to think he’d been trying to fuck her as she slept.  

And then, she turned over, flinging one arm over him.  She sighed and pressed her nose into his neck and Aemond cursed his damned luck, that this incredibly beautiful woman, naked, in bed with him, was someone he worked with, at least temporarily.

Her hand was now sliding under his thin sweater, fingertips skimming up his chest, and she felt so damn good, but his fucking conscience wouldn’t let him simply enjoy this.  

“Hey,” he whispered, and realized he didn’t know her name.  “Wake up.  Please.”

She made another little noise and murmured something he couldn’t make out.  

“Wake up.”

She gasped as she woke, and then went very still.

* * * * * 

You woke up startled by someone’s voice.  You were in such a nice, warm bed, his tall lean body so delicious under your fingers.  For some reason you were already naked but let’s face it, that’s where things were headed with-  with-

Why couldn’t you remember his name?

Oh, shit.

You pulled back, grabbing the thin blanket against your chest.  He was leaning against the wall, his sweater halfway up his chest with your hand under it.  You had to remove your hand.  He had a cut on his stomach although damn, he looked a lot better in the dim light.

“I should move,” you said, rather obviously, but right now your brain wasn’t functioning very well.   Your hand was still on his chest and goddamnit it wasn’t moving for some reason.

His eyes were burning straight through you, and tentatively, he reached up to cover your hand with his own.  “Probably.”  But one corner of his mouth lifted as he said it.

His skin was smooth as you slid your hand down until you reached the waistband of his trousers.  “Oh, your bandage.”

“Bandage is good,” he replied immediately.

Okay, then.

You smiled, and raised your face to his.  His lips were warm against yours, and he tugged gently on your bottom lip with his teeth as he turned onto his side.  “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered.

“Likewise, dragon boy,” you traced his bottom lip with your tongue and felt his hand on your throat.  Not squeezing, just the gentlest of pressures and the feeling hit your belly like lightning.  Your hand finally curved around that blessed ass of his, feeling the muscles shift as he moved to push his pants and boxers down.

He settled between your legs, his hand leaving your throat to caress your thigh as he pulled your leg over his hip.  When he began stroking silky soft flesh, you gasped, each slide of his fingertips like kindling, sparking need inside you.  “Fuck, you’re so wet, so perfect,” he muttered, and after a moment, began pushing inside you.  

Holy god above, he was big.

He took his time as you did your best to relax to accommodate him, but he was filling you completely and still kept pushing in.  And in.  “So fucking perfect,” he said against your ear, his voice so rough you couldn’t help but flutter around him.  “Hmm, you feel delicious, sweet.”

Once he was finally fully inside you, you reached up to touch his face.  In the dim light, his features softened as he gazed down at you.  He pulled back slowly, the friction making you moan.  “I, uh, don’t think, this is going to take long,” you said as you breathed, trying to slow down your body’s responses because god knew you were not going to last much longer.

“We’ll take longer next time,” he said, and drove back in, seating himself in you.  Again he pulled back, faster now, and as he moved within you, the heat deep in your belly began to spread, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to release.  “Come for me, I want to feel you coming,” he said, and you clung to him, your only anchor as the orgasm tore through you.  You cried out against his shoulder, holding onto him through every last contraction.  He was driving hard now, and then his body went taut.  He buried his face in the pillow and groaned as he came, and then collapsed against you.

* * * * * 

The shower, as she’d said, was tepid at best, but then the sliding door opened and she stepped in as he rinsed off the shampoo and the water temperature was the least important thing in his mind.

He pushed her against the wall, his hand holding both her wrists above her head while she curled one leg around his hips.  “If I hurt you,” he whispered, “let me know.”

“I’m pretty tough,” she said, smiling against his jaw.

He hauled up her other leg, holding her in place as he began fucking her against the wall.  The water kept hitting his back, barely muffling the sounds of flesh hitting flesh.  She was whimpering, gasping with every snap of his hips, until he felt her thighs tighten around him and knew she was close.  He let go of her wrists and she immediately wrapped her arms around him, She fisted one hand in his hair, pulling until he drew his head back and she began kissing him, her little moans growing in volume until she threw her head back, her scream echoing around the shower walls.  

The feel of her coming pushed him over the edge and he barely managed to hold himself up until it was over and he thanked the Seven for slippery walls so that he could slowly lower them both to the floor.

“Please tell me you didn’t rip open your wound.”

“Is that seriously the first thing you’re going to say to me?”

She rolled her eyes at him.  “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a marriage proposal?  Because I’m all out of those.”

She wrapped herself in one of the towels and stepped back into the room, and he heard a car pull up around the side of the inn.

He wrapped a towel around his hips and walked in to the room to find her sitting on a chair, a man holding a gun to her head, and another pointing a gun at him. 

[theothersarshi]

when jkr's identity is intrinsically tied to hp because she made it so, you do have to grow up and think about how your supposed comfort zone is validating the damage to trans people

if you keep going back while knowing that, it just shows where you stand on those issues.

I was wondering when I'd get one of these asks. I don't blame you for saying or for feeling the way you do, btw. I'm happy to talk.

1. Harry Potter spoke to LGBTQ+ kids and you can't change that

Because you literally can't change the past.

I understand that Harry Potter is a sore point for very many people - and do you know what? I think it's a very sore point precisely because those books spoke to so many and offered a comfort zone to a lot of marginalized kids.

Harry Potter lived in a cupboard under the stairs, with a family that hated him and told him he was dirty and polluted just because he was what he was. But what he was was wonderful, not horrible.

Of course that resonated with a lot of LGBTQ+ (or divergent or abused) kids! And of course JKR's face-heel turn straight into hell felt like betrayal!

But I also think that "mixed feelings" isn't an unusual reaction to this. I also think "I like the fandom and hate the author" is a quite normal reaction.

Here's one reason I reblogged this post:

I have a bunch of new and comfort fics queued up for my top surgery recovery.

The person who wrote that stance is trans.

You say, nonnie:

you do have to grow up and think about how your supposed comfort zone is validating the damage to trans people

Why "supposed"? And why "zone"? They're comfort reads.

You know, I'm not the greatest trans ally in the world, but I believe trans people are people. And that means they get to have comfort reads just like everyone else. If those comfort reads are fanfics about some kid who was told to pretend he doesn't exist, and that he's tainted, and he should hide away forever, but then he comes out of the closet and lives a pretty cool life... well, I kind of get it.

Also, I don't see how whatever the poster (or anyone else reading fanfic) is reading is validating the damage to trans people. I think it's an association of taintedness, a potential trigger of bad feelings for people who might see it - and that's about it.

2. Harry Potter hatred feels performative to me

Another reason I reblogged this post is this:

Email warner brothers abt their new theme park, or better yet, the media that legitimizes and platforms her, or better yet, actually pivot to activism /for/ trans people.

I've often felt that the anti-HP hatred feels performative. "You like(d) Harry Potter? Oh no! You are terrible!"

Not engaging with HP content is far removed from actually helping anyone. Hunting down random HP fans to tell them they're being insensitive doesn't help too much.

I get that some people get knee-jerk reactions about Harry Potter. It's why I don't talk about that series much anymore - especially on Tumblr. It's out of some sort of vague respect for the room I'm in.

However, how I feel about HP fanfic in my heart is something that... Sorry, I have a Romanian phrase in mind right now, I'll reproduce it literally: JK Rowling pisses in an arch on my feelings about the topic. As in, she gives no fucks. None. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Getting me personally to feel differently about HP is a battle for my soul that's helping nobody.

Also, you're living in a bubble where you assume that the people around you care a lot about their trans ally identity, and are willing to change a heckuva lot about themselves really quickly in order to remain true to that identity.

I don't deny that this might be the case in some Tumblr/fandom circles. However, outside of this bubble, people aren't as married to the idea of being trans allies, and you can't force them to do things based on that.

3. You can't simply replace Harry Potter with something else

Another reason I reblogged that post:

I have a bunch of new and comfort fics queued up for my top surgery recovery. If one more person tells me to just decide to like earthsea instead I will metaphorically kms in front of them.

Mood. SO much mood.

And it's not just about Harry Potter, you know? You can't replace something a person loves with something similar, because it's palpably not the same thing. There's no universal solution for what that person would love next.

Finding a new fandom and new comfort reads is hard, and it depends a lot on what speaks to people. Sometimes you can switch easily, at other times nothing is ever quite the same again. This new shirt isn't a perfect replacement for your favorite shirt. This new show isn't identical to your old show. This new book isn't like the old book.

"Love this instead" is wrong - and it can be disrespectful. The person might eventually find something else to love, but "Don't read Harry Potter, read Earthsea" sounds exactly like the "We have X at home" meme.

4. The HP fandom isn't mindlessly following Rowling

It's funny, but I learned about all sorts of things from the HP fandom as it criticized Rowling.

Yes, it's worth explaining that Rowling has turned into a bigot who's harming real people and (to use that Romanian phrase again) who's pissing in an arch on women, men, autistic folk and so on in her fight against trans people. It's worth saying "Don't support her with money".

On the other hand, the series she wrote was flawed in all sorts of ways that fandom discussed in great depth and complexity. I feel very grateful to the Jewish community for explaining the goblin issues. I feel grateful to fandom for pointing out the social problems. I'm happy the whole "happy slave" thing was explained re: house elves. I feel grateful to everyone who went deep into this series and discussed issues at length.

Harry Potter is a deeply flawed series. It always has been. But it's flawed in ways that are in tune with how society perceives things. So an analysis of what the book is made of was also an analysis of our assumptions of the world, of larger problematic tropes and so on.

Those discussions happened, and they sure as fuck weren't brought on by Rowling, but by all the fans. Who are still around. JK Rowling was absolutely in the wrong there, too - but the fandom itself? Well, the fandom had a lot to offer that wasn't as wrong as JK Rowling.

You can take the world's best book and have shit discourse about it. Or a very flawed book and have great conversations about it.

(I'd say the fandom was less wrong about some things, but... ffs. Sometimes the Less Wrong fandom was Way More Wrong.)

5. JK Rowling's shitty, shitty takes

This has nothing to do with anything, but my fucking god. I need to rant.

Even trans issues aside, JK Rowling's tendency to retcon things and make claims unsupported by the text is so. Fucking. Dumb. "Book 5 is filled with raging hormones!" Where? I've never seen less horny teenagers. "Dumbledore is gay!" Really? Funny, how you never mentioned it before this interview. "Hermione could be black, you don't know!" Oh, for pete's sake. "You shouldn't pick on people for being fat!" Says the creator of Dudley Dursley and others.

I'd be embarrassed if I were her. But she has no ability to be embarrassed.

6. I know I haven't persuaded you

And that's fine. You can still go hate Harry Potter. You can even think I'm horrible for refusing to let go of the fandom. (Which I do, although at this point I'm barely reading fic anymore.)

But in my turn, I'm going to think that indiscriminately telling people things like how they're validating damage against trans people for reading their little fanfics is also pretty insensitive and out of touch. And it's also useless, because, as that poster said, it'd be more helpful if she were dropped by the people giving JKR an actual platform and money. I know I haven't for years.

[limpfisted]

WYLL’S FLAWED PERSPECTIVE. or, how to “read” my replies!

i personally believe wyll is a flawed character and its important to give him the full spectrum of emotions beyond “good” “kind” or “bad” “evil.”

i am personally working on trying to stay “ic” and true to my characters, without pushing the character into saying something that will like, be good for a ship, or like, be an “rp people pleaser” if that makes senses!

i don’t JUST want to have interactions where wyll is perfect. to me, wyll has flaws in the way he communicates and sees the world. this does not mean he is not heroic, or a kind, decent man—it just means i love him as a character for his layers. these things make him more REAL and complex than i think wyll as a PERSON wants to be, in a kind of “hide my truth, hide my feelings, elsa frozen kinnie” way

so without further ado, here are some things wyll might do or want to do or say incorrectly or percieve your character in the wrong way even tho i personally would not behave in the same ways irl On Purpose For Some Of These Things

CONDESCENDING. wyll believes he knows best. wyll believes he can say all the right words and “fix things.” he can make EVERYTHING better. he has a SAVIOR COMPLEX. while never being a perfect martyr, he really does think he can “ahaaha dont have depression ur so sexy” ur ass by being gentle and kind and roleplaying a fairy tale with you. additionally, if you seem “soft” in some way, or “meek” in some way, wyll want to “help you” more.

AVOIDANT. wyll does not want to talk about what he wants, what he notices, what he feels, except in poetryor tall tales or threats of violence. his pretty words sometimes hide an emptiness, a dreaminess. he speaks of things he cannot have and will not ask for. he is embarrassed to want, embarrassed to need, attention, desire, anything but charm and protecting the innocent and meek.

OVERLY ROMANTIC. this ties in with above. he idealizes people, he puts them on pedestals, he treats them like they are made of glass. he does not humanize others or himself enough, and prefers to live in a world of fantasies and pretend.

BOASTFUL. wyll tries to be humble—but this is to match a persona. if you dive even slightly deeper into things, he’s all too happy to tell you how strong and heroic he is, to the point of condescion and vanity. on the other hand, he will not take you seriously if you threaten him! he’ll threaten you back! he doesnt give a single fuck!

BLACK AND WHITE THINKING AND SNAP JUDGEMENTS. to wyll, you are either “hunter” “prey” “hero/villain” the person he needs to protect people from. he will bide his time—but it is difficult for him to trear villains kindly, and he will NEVER truly respect them as people, unless they prove they have changed or are not trying to hurt anyone currently.

WILL WORK WITH VILLAINS. WILL MAKE DEALS WITH DEVILS. WILL ALSO HUNT THEM FOR SPORT. easy to understand, wyll believes he can “control” devils, if they are useful to him. wyll can ally with evil—even if he is just biding his time to kill them later.

VIOLENT. ROLEPLAYER. if you are evil, he will just want to kill you and that’s that! he wanted to kill every goblin at that camp! he relishes in violence as long as it’s for justice. he gets off on the power and pomp of it n his heroism—even when its not actually heroic

WORDS GET AWAY FROM HIM. he will speak with intention, but has a tendency to ramble poetically. when angry, and threatening someone, sometimes he makes no sense at all bc he just wants murder myrder death death justice

A SILLY BILLY!! he can take himself very seriously, but also he is brainweird and skin hungry n loves to touch n be weird and wrestle n write funny poems and get drunk n dance under the stars. he’s a silly ex-(would have been a theatre kid but his dad wanted him to join jrotc instead) kid! he likes big bold gestures. he is EXTREMELY REPRESSED, but the closer he gets to u, the more ull see his joy n not just his “good hero”

DEEPLY LONELY AND APPROVAL SEEKING. wyll really likes it when people pay attention to him. nore than he likes actually doing good things, sometimes. note: there is nothing wrong with doing good things for recognition, everyone deserves recognition of hard work n pain. but it still makes him more interesting to me than generic hero!:

EASILY CORRUPTABLE / MOLDABLE / MANIPULATED. he approves of killing for auntie ethel n them immediatley goes. oh. fuck. oh no…. i fucked up. im trash…. he got i. cahoots with mizora and thinks he CHOSE that bc hes so so good!

NOT IN TOUCH WITH HIS FEELINGS. wyll doesn’t always know wgat’s going on his beain/heart, n honestly he doesn’t want to think abt it too hard! but i will! i always will, wyll.

SMART, BUT DOESN’T CARE ENOUGH TO QUESTION. i dont feel like writing anymore god free me. free me from the sin of my hubris. free me. no more writing

THERE ARE MORE THINGS PROBABLY BUT I DONT FERL LIKE WRITING THEM. LOOK AT MY PRETTY HC BANNER ITS SO PRETTY. GOODBYE FOREVER

something so,ething hes traumatized and pushes people away n puts them on a pedestal so they can never know how scarred and scared and unworthy he feels bc of the deep loneliness inside him from his family’s emotional instability coupled with being homeless as a teenager with only an abuser to guide him thru his late teens, etc

[ifyoucandaniel]

Ok wait I’m not done actually. This post has given me brain rot so bad I’ve been staring at it for like days weeks hours years, so bare with me.

Just thinking: Lily Evan’s is the second daughter of the king and queen, and as the second daughter it’s her duty to marry outside of the kingdom to build strong allies. The obvious choice of course is James potter, the neighboring kingdoms sole heir and most powerful ally. Lily and James are both quiet close actually and all things considered, there are worse options (i.e. the third son mulciber in another kingdom) so to solidify the alliance the Evan’s send Lily across the oceans with their trusted guards. One being Dorcas, who is pulling a mulan and has been pretending to be a man for the past 3 years in order to join the knights and fight. Dorcas tries to keep an appropriate distance from Lily as a knight, but Lily is in a sort of melancholy muse where she kind of looks out over the water and without looking at Dorcas goes “have you ever felt like you’re not really a person, but just a puppet who lets everyone pull the strings? I feel like I have no control, but I don’t think I’ve ever tried to take it either.” And Dorcas kind of just lets that sit with them. Then one night their ship wrecks (ofc like all good stories) and the two of them are the only survivors/only ones on the same part of the land. Just thinking about them having to navigate the land and grow closer and Lily feeling conflicted because while she’s never had any loyalty to marrying James and knows neither of them care about the alliance aside from placating their parents, she does feel conflicted because she was under the impression she only liked woman? And this is a man? So she’s going through a crisis coming to terms with being bisexual when finally after some big thing, she finds out Dorcas is a woman, and she’s angry and Dorcas thinks it’s bc she was lying and committing a crime technically punishable by death, but Lily is mad because she made her think she was attracted to men😭 any ways yeah so just them falling in love and Dorcas protecting Lily and !!!!

Also James pov where it’s him losing his goddamn mind because Lily is like his best friend and he loves her so so much and when the news of the wreck reached him he was like “yeah no she’s still alive nothing could kill Lily Evans, we need to go find her” and everyone keeps telling him there were no survivors but he’s like I don’t give a fuck, she’s alive. So then with the help of Lady Walburga’s son and his best friend Sirius, he’s able to sneak out one night pretending to be a commoner, but he runs into regulus and somehow they’re forced to travel together (reg probably said smth like “if you don’t take me with you I’ll to straight to your very worried parents and tell them you’re putting yourself in danger without any guards to go look for Lily alone” and James is like FUCK fine you can come, just don’t say I didn’t try). So the two of them traveling together, reg trying to get away from his family, James searching for Lily, and falling in love at the same time as Lily and Dorcas <3 gays all around

And just for some wolfstar bc I can’t function without them: Sirius being left to kind of mediate the potters and be like “it’s ok I’m sure James is fine, he’s smart it’s ok we’ll find him” while hiding the fact that he snuck James out, and he meets a stable boy (OFC BC I LOVE THIS TROPE YOY CAN RIP IT FROM MY DEAD HANDS) and he’s like instantly GONE. Remus being a stable boy and meeting the charming, beautiful Lords son and being like “yeah fuxk you and the monarchy, you’re probably an asshole who wipes his ass with gold leaf” and Sirius is like *heart eyes, aWOOga* “my family and the inherent inequality of the monarchy again😍” and they fall in love <3

[syntheticfoxfire]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ niragi + companionship [tw: dying, physical injuries]

You’ve been close to death before. Who here hasn't? This world isn’t particularly forgiving, so it’s only to be expected.

Still, you’ve never been this close and getting closer.

Putting more pressure on the bleeding hole in your stomach, you brave on. This isn’t how you meant to die. No matter how ruthless the games and this whole experience made you, how it all changed you, you still longed for happiness. And dying cold and alone wasn’t part of it. One would think that among the bodies that littered the streets there would be someone barely alive to keep you company at least, but that’s just your luck.

Then you hear a wet, disgusting couching. Great, that sounds promising. You’re not sure for how much longer you’ll be able to move, so you try to hurry.

What’s good is that the person in question isn’t too far and his wounds seem pretty bad. He’s been shot like you, and clearly you’re both at the end of your life spans unless a miracle happens. The bad news is who this guy is.

Then again, it’s the end of this world, seeing as only one last game remains. It’s most likely going to be your end too, so why not let go of all the hard feelings. You barely have any strength left anyway and you’d like to use it to breathe for a while longer.

You lower yourself to the ground, leaning for support on the car Niragi’s resting against. You sit right next to him, ignoring his scoff and venomous ‘fuck off’. Fuck him, though, so you move even closer, letting yourself fall over him and resting your upper body on his lap and stomach. His blood soaks your hair. You don’t care, it’s a mess anyway. Being like this feels pretty good though. Who would’ve thought.

“The fuck you’re doing,” he growls, his chest rumbling with blood slowly filling his lungs. You suppose he’d like to remove you from himself, but neither of you have enough strength to really move.

"Dying, the same as you," you shrug, or try to, "Don't wanna do it alone."

It's too late to hide now, to pretend. You're scared. You don't wanna die, period, but the prospect of dying alone is even more terrifying. While you were never more than a casual acquaintance or reluctant ally with Niragi, he’s a piece of familiarity. He’s not a good person, but he’s been decent enough to you. And you figure that here, on the brink of death, it doesn’t matter if he sees you open and vulnerable.

“Should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he sighs, as exaggerated as his busted lungs allow. His wheezy breathing sounds terrible. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Should’ve fucked me too, now we’ll die without ever having fun,” you chuckle. Ah, the memories. Maybe you were more than acquaintances. Where’s that line anyway? He huffs.

“Where’s the fun if you can’t fight back,” as he speaks, he lazily trails one of his hands up your thigh. You can tell it’s a lot of effort.

“I wouldn’t have fought back before either,” you hum, “You’re an asshole, but you’re hot. Back then and now.” His hand pauses on your leg, resting on your thigh before getting anywhere inappropriate. 

“You know, I always wondered how you were in our world,” you continue. Blood loss is probably making you too chatty for your own good. It feels comfortable though. He’s warm even as he’s bleeding out on you, you on him, your blood mixing with his in a puddle under your bodies. “I’d like to meet you there. I’m curious if we’d be friends.”

“You hate me,” he deadpans.

“You think I’d come to die together with you if I hated you?” you roll your eyes weakly, too afraid they’d really get stuck up there with how weak you were feeling, “The point is me hating you, not myself. I mean it’s not like I like you, but I guess there might be potential if we met under different circumstances.”

You close your eyes. You really shouldn’t have talked that much, but at least it’s taken your mind off things. He’s really warm. Soft, and his hand feels nice on your thigh. You let your head swing closer to his body, gently rubbing on his chest. His blood smears on your cheek and he hisses as you brush against his wound.

You feel him move, his hand lands on your shoulder and you think he might push you away. Yet instead of retaliating he just wraps his other arm around you. His hold is loose, and you guess there’s not much time for either of you. What a shame. You’d love to tease him.

Faintly you hear explosions somewhere both far away and all around you. A voice informs you about something, but you only make out the key words over the sound of Niragi’s barely-there heartbeat.

You make your choice, and you wonder where you’re going to wake up.

[part 2??]

[supernovafeather]

The War Tribute (18+)

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Content : noncon, smut, creampie, doggystyle, prisoner!reader, future future forced marriage, breeding kink ?, language, dark!Leto, dom!Leto.

Link to PART TWO

Being a tribute to the man that just conquered this part of your planet was to be expected. Caladan is known for its formidable fleet both on air and on water, and for the Atreides at its head. Leto Atreides, more precisely. A sharp leader loving his people and legacy, cherishing them to the point he declared war instead of trying to pursue peace through negotiations. That too, was to be expected after your father offended the Emperor.

Yet you hadn't anticipated the Duke's reluctance to take you as his. You wanted to offer him a last fight with your death glares but he holds them pretty well, yet with some pity in his own eyes. You are standing there in front of him, nothing to lose after your father betrayed you, forcing you to put this white dress on transparent under the sunlight. That coward offered you like the gift that would spare his life before hiding again in some shelter.

"Stop watching me like that asshole." You scoff as he narrows his eyes. "I don't need your pity."

With no answer from him you feel anxiety raising in your chest. He is the one in control there. You have nothing underneath, and him is still dressed in his Duke military outfit. His victory needed him to be immaculate for his people. The parade was a success according to him. Good for that man.

"Please refer to me as sir, sire, or my Lord." He corrects you with a neutral expression but a firm voice. "Your capital is now mine."

"What a shame, because I won't."

"Please stop resisting to your fate. Neither of us wants this to be more upsetting than it already is."

"Really ? If that was the case you would have accepted me as tribute but wouldn't be planning on doing anything to me."

"I can't disappoint the Emperor. As a royal tribute during my celibacy, you have to give me a son."

"Fucking old men and their old customs." You snarl before turning your back at him. "At least my planet was civilized. We didn't obey to that nonsense."

"Yet your father ran away and betrayed his own flesh."

He is right and you hate that as you hear him coming closer to you, his boots crushing the thin layer of dirt and sand in your cell. Do you have to accept this destiny of yours then ? Apparently, you do. But you won't.

"My father is just as an asshole as you are." You claim with watering eyes as you feel him untying your hair.

"He sure is. What he did was unacceptable." He replies.

"But is what you are doing more acceptable ?"

"Morally ? No, it's not. But I do what I have to. The Emperor wants it, and my House needs it. Those are the rules in this corner of the galaxy."

You muffle a groan as he pushes you to a table, facing the old wall as your hand grab the old furniture. Here were once detained the worst scums of this capital. No one of royal blood. You guess you better leave him do what he wants. He is going to impregnate you one day or the other as he keeps following blindly the instructions he receives.

"I thought you were more clever than that." You sob as he lifts your thin dress to reveal your bare ass to him. "More respectable. My father admired you."

"You father attacked Caladan for no reason." He says as you hear his pants falling to his ankles. "He pretended to be an ally but lied by doing so. He was the enemy."

You bite your lips as he spreads your legs, something poking at your entrance before stopping. His fingers rub that area and he sighs.

"Get wet and make it last the sooner you can." He says as you let his two fingers rubbing you up and down quickly.

"Go fuck yourself you don't need to do that, you can lie to them and..."

His free hand grabs your throat and presses your back against his chest, your head facing the damaged ceiling letting some light in. The air is warm, the birds are singing again after the intense bombings.

"I want to treat you as good as possible in that situation your father put us in." He whispers at your ear as he keeps rubbing your crotch, now focusing on the area of your clit. "So just shut your mouth, close your eyes if you want, let me take you and give me a child. You have nothing much to do there."

"Atreideses don't deserve to take anything." You say as you turn your head to watch him in the eyes. "Your House is made of as many liars as any other Noble House. You disgust me."

"If that what you think of us," he says as you feel wetness going under his ministrations, "then I am sorry for disappointing you. After all you are going to spend your life in this same House."

"No way" you whimper as his fingers are back on your entrance now cruelly welcoming for him. "No way I join your House."

"I have to impregnate you or my House can get obliterated. We survived for hundreds of years. I won't let you ruin it all because of the dickhead she has of a father."

No word escapes from your mouth as you keep watching him in the eyes, your back and nape hurting at this contorsion you maintain in pure defiance as you feel something thick rubbing your lower lips.

"Don't look at me like that." The Duke snaps as he forces you against the table, some fabrics put in your mouth as he restrains you. "Just make things easier s for our Houses. There is no other solution my Lady."

He pushes inside you hard enough to make you shut up for a second, but you start to protest as he slides out, then in again. He is gentle for now, too distracted with the sensations to really mind your behavior. Maybe he is right ? Maybe you should just let him do whatever he wants so he wouldn't treat you too badly ? Maybe he just wants to cum inside you, then later you could find a way to escape and take pills and join your family somewhere ? But what if you can't ? At least try to fight back. Do someth, anything for your House. They never let you existing for yourself so at least fight for them.

"Shut up." He sighs as you start to grow agitated.

He pins your wrists down the table as he keeps thrusting inside you, his shaft penetrating you as easily as your tears full of rage run down your cheeks. Then he pins your head down as well, both of his hands paralyzing you as he starts grinding.

"Now that's good. No problem." He sighs between two loud wet sounds. "It's better. Much better. You're being a good girl. I'm proud of you my Lady."

You try to kick him with your foot but you can't do much more than spreading your leg even more as he takes immediately the room you just let him. His hands tighten their grip on your nape and wrists as your mouth dries out due to the fabrics absorbing your saliva. The Duke is too gentle you want it to end quickly. Here you can here his pleased sighs and moans, the wet sounds, his praises... you hate that.

"I wanted to marry you, I talked about it to your father." He says out of breath as he stops for a few seconds. "I saw you at a ceremony and found you magnificent. A true beauty. Clever too. Bored but really interesting." He resumes the slow pace. "And all due to your father I have to take you like that. A shame, a shame."

The worst is that he sounds sincere. He is hypocritical, he had the choice to lie to the ones ordering him to do that. You can protest all you want with that fabrics in your mouth, it won't solve anything.

"You're going to hate me I know it." He pants as he fastens his thrusts as you start moaning. "No matter if we marry, have kids... you're going to hate me. I won't mind you. I fully expect that. I'm sorry for what I'm doing to you."

You muffle your moans more as he releases your nape, his hand now rubbing your breasts under your lifted dress. His grasp is firm, his fingers on your nipple and circling it. You want to tell him to go fuck himself as you try to regain some control over your body but it refuses. It simply refuses as you rest your forehead against the table now trembling and creaking under his hip thrusts.

"I'm sorry my Lady." He pants as he sounds close. "I promise I'll make you want our other intercourses. I'm going to give you your revenge over them. I didn't want that, like you I thought there were other solutions. They would kill our own legacy."

There were other solutions, there are always other solutions, he could have sacrificed himself passively instead of sacrificing you actively. Just like your father did by making you a vulgar tribute. It's not that guilty orgasm you are now feeling that is going to solve anything. It's not because your body is loving that forced stimulation that you are going to forgive. It's not because he releases his seed in you that your potential future pregnancy will be a solution. The forced marriage incoming due to those outdated rules won't appease your mind, and his promise won't be an agreement despite what he wants.

- - - - -

@salome-c @stevenngrant @lavenderluna10 @one-hell-of-a-disappointment @dailyreverie @thecursivej @lady-targaryen @general-latino @harrys-tittie

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

Hi! Can I request headcanons for dating marcus (deadly class)? Thank you

HEADCANONS FOR DATING MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO

A/N: Just a head’s up, I got a little carried away, so this is kinda long lol. Also, sorry this took forever! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately :/ I almost had it done before work picked back up, but I couldn’t figure out how to end it. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Before the two of you started dating, Marcus had no idea that you liked him, and for good reason

You did such a good job with hiding your feelings that sometimes even you forgot they were there, which was kind of the whole point

With girls like Saya and Maria around, sending out mixed signals and dropping subtle hints that they liked Marcus, too, it was intimidating

Add Marcus’s constant cynicism about love, and life in general, into the mix, and it was clear the chances of him actually liking you back were next to nothing

So, you knew it was probably for the best to move on

You used the “if you ignore it, it’ll go away” approach in the hopes that if you simply didn’t acknowledge your feelings, the problem would disappear

All this did, however, was create a whole new issue

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to take the thought process of ‘ignoring your crush’ too literally

You and Marcus were best friends, so when, out of the blue, you stopped talking to him, he could tell something was up

He had no clue what, though

Naturally, he assumed it was something he had done

Marcus started asking around among your mutual friends to see if they knew anything, but they were all just as out of the loop as he was

You hadn’t told anyone about your repressed feelings for Marcus, and you had no intention of letting the secret slip any time soon, but accidents happen

The truth came out one night during a game of truth or dare when you were up on the roof smoking with the Rats

Your confession came tumbling out quicker than you could even think about reeling the words back in

“You hear that, Romeo?” Billy asked, elbowing Marcus in the ribs. “Y/N’s got the hots for you”

All Marcus could do was laugh nervously as he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet your gaze

To your relief, no one brought it up again for the rest of the game

When the next day rolled around and your crush on Marcus still wasn’t the topic of conversation, you started to think that you were in the clear

Maybe they’d all been too stoned to remember when they’d woken up that morning

Your hopes were shattered by the late afternoon

As you left the bathroom, Marcus spotted you from across the hall

He quickly rushed over and caught you by the elbow, dragging you back through the doorway

“Relationships aren’t really my thing,” he said

Marcus sounded like he had more to say, but before he got the chance, you cut him off

“It’s fine,” you said. “I get it”

“No, no. I mean, I like you, Y/N, really. I just don’t wanna mess it up”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face even if you tried

“You’re not gonna mess it up”

Before either of you could say more, the bathroom door opened and Petra walked in

She glanced between the two of you knowingly

“Hate to break this up, but if I hold this piss in any longer, I’ll explode”

With that, she pushed past you both, effectively ruining the moment

It didn’t take long after that for you and Marcus to make your relationship official

‘Official’ is a bit of a loose term in this case

For the most part, both of you kept the fact that you were dating fairly under the radar for fear of what others would do with that information

In a place like King’s Dominion, something as small as caring for another person beyond using them as an ally was seen as a weakness that could and would be used against you, and the last thing either of you wanted was to be put in a situation where you were pitted against each other

Of course, there were several instances when one (or both) of you nearly blew your cover

Such as in Martial Arts class

Instead of fighting you, Marcus would try to cop a feel

You’d quickly smack his hand away

“Miss De Luca’s right there!”

“She’s not looking”

In defense of both of you, though, a class in which hormonal teenagers are asked to pair themselves up and wrestle is practically an invitation to break the ‘no sex’ rule

The other classes you shared weren’t any better

Master Lin caught you and Marcus staring at each other instead of paying attention on multiple occasions, earning both of you a smack from his cane

Although Marcus was somewhat known for his smart mouth and talking back to authority, he knew better than to challenge Lin, not mention that if he did, he’d risk exposing the two of you in the process

So, Marcus bit back his insults and held in his tirade until the two of you were safely locked away in his dorm room

“He had no right to hit you like that”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, shoving another tissue up your nose to stop the bleeding. “Besides, he does it to everyone”

“That still doesn’t give him the right”

“Next time, I’m gonna stick that cane right up his ass”

Marcus wanted to shield you from all the violence at King’s, but when it was coming from teachers, there wasn’t much he could do about it

If it was a fellow student pushing you around, on the other hand, there was no holding him back

You loved how protective Marcus was of you, but sometimes you worried that he’d get carried away

Marcus always made sure you were never around to witness the fights take place, but the scrapes and bruises on his face that hadn’t been there when you saw him that morning were all the proof you needed

In such cases, you would insist on patching him up afterwards

The first few times this happened, Marcus was embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him

After a while, though, he grew to love the feeling of having someone fuss over him, especially if it was you

It was nice to have someone care about him for a change

You weren’t much of a fighter, but making sure he didn’t get Tetanus was your way of looking out for him

When you and Marcus weren’t getting into trouble, you were actually a pretty cute couple

Your roommates became accustomed to the two of you being a package deal, which often meant sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights out

Sometimes, it was to make out, but other times, it was so you could have late night conversations that you didn’t get the chance to have during the day

The topics of these conversations varied—they could be deep and philosophical (which was Marcus’s favorite kind), an opportunity to open up to each other about yourselves and your pasts, a time to plot someone’s death (usually only theoretically), or simply joking around

After especially long days, you would accidentally drift off in the middle of these nightly chats with your head on Marcus’s chest, but he never minded

He’d pull the covers up on your side and wrap his arms more tightly around you

While both of you were perfectly capable of pulling all-nighters, whenever you fell asleep, Marcus was never far behind

The sound of your evened-out breathing was like a lullaby to him, so it was safe to say that his sleep schedule drastically improved after the two of you started dating

You’d found that you slept better with Marcus, too, so on the few nights you spent apart, you’d doze off listening to the mixtapes he’d made you in your Walkman, which were full of your favorite songs and songs that reminded him of you (though, these had quickly become your favorites, too)

It was rare that the two of you weren’t together, though

Even during the day, you and Marcus were practically joined at the hip

At lunch, you would hold hands under the table and share food

Of course, this always opened the door for plenty of teasing from your friends, especially Lex

“While you’re at it, why don’t you chew the food up for each other and pass it back and forth like little birds?”

“Fuck off, Lex”

It was always in good fun, though

Actually, the other Rats were relieved when the two of you finally got together because the weird tension that had been brewing leading up to that point went away, meaning group hangouts could carry on normally

They could overlook you sitting in Marcus’s lap if it meant you weren’t being distant and secretive

Just like they pretended not to notice when you showed up to class wearing each other’s blazers by mistake after spending the night together

Or walking in late looking ✨especially disheveled✨

All in all, you and Marcus are King’s Dominion’s cutest couple™️ that only, like, five other people know about, but still-

[molotoph]

Your friendly reminder that it is well documented, especially before nazio tried to hide behind our dead lost to the Holocaust, that they considered antisemitism and antisemitics their primary allies in terms of convincing Jewish people to settle in Palestine, and that various foundational !sraeli leaders worked in open and documented including self-documented collaboration with the third reich and the Nazis. The Balfour Declaration was made by an antisemite, Balfour himself was a British antisemite that based his declaration in large part to keep Jewish immigrants out of England and the British empire. In Herzel’s diaries he names the antisemite as “one of our (!srael’s) greatest allies.”

!srael was the only group who engaged in open trade with Nazi germany and broke sanctions and boycotts to do so. When the third reich fell, the loss of nationalist antisemitism wounded the occupation’s ability to pull in more settlers.

You. Will. Not. Hide. Under. Our. Bodies. Anymore. You will not hide behind our dead anymore, you will not wave them in our faces and scream at us, “but don’t you love them?!”

The members of my family that remained in Poland during WWI into WWII were not forced to line mass graves to see me become a Nazi and use their deaths to pretend to explain the desire to become a Nazi. A Nazi is a contemporary word for a genocider for a reason. Nazis did not only target Jewish people and Jewishness either.

Why do you want to have a right to devour your own species as viciously and permanently as it once devoured your own people? Why do you want to access the means and the work of fascism and genocide for yourself? Why do you want to be able to do it? Why?!!

If I were to be put in a room with Nathen Yahtzee himself, I wouldn’t want to rape him. I wouldn’t want to drag out his death for my own pleasure because there is no fucking pleasure in being unable to pull the human from the fascist they’ve chosen over and over and over to become. I would not humiliate him or aggrandize the process of his death because not only do I derive no joy from causing human suffering, but it would only feed into his own understanding of himself as uniquely important enough, special enough, to invoke rage in me that would validate his own sense of grandeur. There is nothing special about any fascist. There is nothing unique or important about the choice they have made. It is a tragedy they render unmournable through their own actions, even when their bodies are uninhabited, harmless and still, there is no room left to mourn the loss of a human being because that humanity is something they chose to abandon and cut away long ago. We do not want to do sick things to their emptied bodies like genociders do. We do not want to leave them unburied and rotting in the open air like genociders do. There is no glory in it. There is no feeling but the rage, the grief, the horror of unanswerable questions of why this happens to people, why they choose to abandon their place within human existence completely for some sort of god-mimicking “right” to destroy and enslave and devour human lives through dehumanization and genocide.

Even if your monsters existed, why would you want to repeat their behavior. Why do you think you’re owed the right to dehumanize people? What do you think it makes you? Why do you want to participate?

I don’t ask this question of any one group because it’s never been done by only one group. When whiteness and genocide creep into your own consciousnesses, implying you deserve to be able to rape and torture and destroy human beings. What are you? Why do you want to? It is never a response fitting to any atrocity. The Jewish people we lost in the Holocaust didn’t have fantasies about becoming the new Nazis, that’s shit hitler said. Palestinians don’t want to “get you back” by committing these atrocities against you, that’s shit !srael is telling you.

What are you?

i really dont understand how you can grow up your whole life hearing stories about holocaust survivors and maps of giant family trees of hundreds of people where only 2 or 3 survived or families that were separated and had to leave people behind to die and not empathize with palestinians and instead have the complete opposite reaction and say none of this is happening and that its not a genocide... i fucking hate the world so much

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards Pt. V

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI

    Alright so maybe you spoke too soon; the four of you were going to do great things, minus Tommy. Technoblade had finally agreed to let you join Tommy and him on an adventure into L’manberg. The plan was to crash their festival, and ultimately attempt to get Tommy’s discs back from Dream and Tubbo. You expected your first adventure into the country to be fun, if anything you’d get to steal some shit, what you didn’t expect was to be thrown in the middle of a public dispute. 

Clearly, you underestimated what ‘getting the discs back’ actually entailed. 

You and Technoblade were back to back swords drawn, surrounded by about thirty people in the ruin of what was once deemed a community house. Technoblade never would’ve agreed to let you come if he thought the confrontation with Dream was going to be this serious, he assumed they’d watch from afar. If things got to dicey Tommy and him would rush in and he’d have you stay behind to watch from afar. If only he could’ve predicted someone blowing up a random building would cause such turmoil. 

Nothing could ever come up Technoblade.

   “Yah know when you first invited me out to partake in a festival for some reason I didn’t expect to be attacked by like thirty people.” You chirped a hesitant smile on your face as Technoblade made a confused sound. 

   “You definitely should’ve expected it,” Technoblade grumbled, barely taking his eyes off of Tommy and Tubbo’s argument. You watched Techno’s back but you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the boys conversation as well. As much as your heart broke for the two war-torn children, you had your alliance first and foremost with your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel this conversation should be happening privately but here they were airing things out seemingly for the first time in front of everybody. Speaking of your boyfriend, your attention was drawn back to him as he caught Tommy’s attention, “be very careful what your decision is here Tommy.” 

You narrowed your eyes and took a step in front of Technoblade, he made his classic ‘heh’ sound as you did so. You felt his hand grip your forearm and tighten trying to hold you back in case you wanted to do something stupid. 

   “Tommy, come home with us.” You held out your hand to him, the one Technoblade didn’t have a hold of obviously. “Phil’s waiting for us, we’ll get your discs back together as we planned.” The smile on your face could part the cloudiest of days and it broke Tommy’s heart, she had given him something that he hadn’t had since the war with Dream began.

A home. 

   “(Y/N),” That’s the first time he used your name, the first time you weren’t just Ms Blade. It broke your heart and you whimpered a little bit, “thank you for everything you’ve done for me. But I can’t go back with you and Technoblade. I don’t like what I’ve become, this isn’t me. I’m sorry. I hope one day we can be friends again. Tubbo give Dream my disc.” You leaned back into Technoblade in disbelief, Tommy had just betrayed Technoblade right before your very eyes. The man who gave Tommy the clothes on his back and a place to stay when no one else would. Weapons to help him fight against Dream when everyone else abandoned him, even though they all treated Technoblade as a weapon he still went out of his way to help Tommy. Your hands clenched into fists at your side as Dream let out a roaring laugh collecting the disc from Tubbo. He called the two children stupid right to their face and no matter how angry you were with them that was harsh, it’s like everyone in this country forgets that they are children. Children fuck up, it’s how they learn and it’s in their nature why does no one here understand that. You looked up at Techno your eyebrows furrowed and you pressed your lips tight but he didn’t take his eyes off Dream, he had different priorities in mind. 

Protecting you from the Dreamon if anything went south. 

Dream continued to mock and criticize the people of L’manberg before turning to you and Technoblade. The mask he wore may hide his facial expressions, but it couldn’t mask the unadulterated glee in his voice. Technoblade pulled you behind him as Dream stepped closer to the both of you, you felt a growl rumble in Technoblade’s chest, 

   “That’s close enough.” 

   “Down boy.” Dream mused, holding up his hands to show faux innocence. “I have no issues with the both of you. Tomorrow, with your help, Technoblade and woman.”  

   “(Y/N).”

   “Don’t tell him your name.” Technoblade gaped at you and you only could huff in frustration, 

   “Better than just being called woman! Plus Tommy already said it.”  

With an eye-roll Dream continued his speech, “With the help of Technoblade and (Y/N) L’manberg is going to be a crater. We’re blowing it sky-high.” Dream turned over to face Tubbo once again, “I had to pretend to be friends with you, to get the dumb disk back! I don't care about you. I'm not your friend. Okay? I cared about getting the disk back, and I got the disk back. I got it back. And that's-that's- that's the only thing that really matters. You can't even run your nation right. RANBOO IS A TRAITOR. ONE OF YOUR MOST TRUSTED FRIENDS.”

Your eyes widened as you spotted another child looking horrified, it was the half enderman from the butcher gang. You’re adopting him next.

   “NO, IT IS TRUE. READ THIS BOOK. READ THIS BOOK. There's his memory book. He was meeting with Techno and Tommy and told them EVERYTHING. The proof’s all his own memories! He writes it down! You can't even run your own nation correctly Tubbo. Listen. Tubbo, you, I mean you, ... L'Manberg is weaker than it's ever been, and it's because of you! You have- you have destroyed everything. You have ruined your friendships. You have ruined L'Manberg's allies. You have just-you are a horrible president Tubbo.” Dream continued as Tubbo looked sick to his stomach, you felt just as nauseous.

   “YEAH, YOU SUCK TUBBO!”

   “TECHNOBLADE!” 

   “What?” He flinched at your tone, “he’s right!” 

   “They’re children,” You tried to argue but Dream cut you off by stepping in between you and Technoblade. Your pulse skyrocketed as you were separated, and you made sure an ender pearl was at the ready. Tommy looked at the both fo you nervously, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes when you defended Tubbo. Tommy turned over to Tubbo who honestly looked just as shocked that a partner of Technoblade’s would defend him, espeically considering he had tried to kill her a few days prior. Tommy had hope that he wasn’t completely dead to you.

   “Techno. Got any withers?” You watched a sickening smile spread across Techno’s lips he picked at his nails. 

   “I got a few.” 

   “Good. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow when the L’manberg loses its last cannon life,” Dream announced before disappearing into the wind. The citizens turned to face you and Technoblade, he only had to utter a single word:

   “Run,” Before both of you pearled away from the wreckage of the community house. 

Technoblade scooped you up in his arms as he made his way through the Nether portal back to his base. He was much faster than you were and you didn’t fight him on wanting to make a quick getaway. You both were silent on the way back to his base, bottom line was you didn’t know how you felt about what just went down. On one hand, destruction was your middle name and you weren’t going to oppose blowing a government to smithereens with your boyfriend.  

Nothing could be more romantic than that. 

Yet at the same time, unlike Technoblade, you felt the guilt eat away at you. These were people’s homes, and lives you’d be destroying tomorrow. Most of the citizens you had no affiliation with, which you were grateful for, but those you did you almost couldn’t justify blowing the country up. Tommy was by all accounts dead to Technoblade and by that extent you as well. Still, you didn’t want to see him physically dead, it wasn’t his fault he got corrupted by the government and a homeless teletubby.

You were starting to sound like Technoblade now too.  

You made a sound of distress and Techno glanced down at your form, his face flushed as you nuzzled your nose against his neck. 

   “You okay princess?” 

   “No…” You answered with a sigh, you reached out and twirled a strand of his pink hair through your fingers. “Tommy’s gone, we’re going to blow up a country tomorrow. I feel bad for the people we’re gonna leave homeless. So, no I’m not okay bubs.” The socially awkward man winced a little as he battled with what to say to you, he tends to forget you both aren’t the same person. For as much as both of you agree, you were still different from him, you had more empathy than he could ever wish to have. 

   “You don’t have to come.”  

He watched a frown appear on your face as you pulled away from him. You clicked your tongue in distaste, a sure sign that you were about to pick a fight with the blood god. You were one opponent he could never seem to defeat. That did not come out the way he intended. 

Time to backtrack before he got his ass handed to him. 

   “What I mean is, you have no affiliation with L’manberg. You have no prior issues you need to settle with them so technically you can stay home tomorrow, no one would blame you. You’d be safer away from the explosions, I’d feel better with you at home.”

   “That way you’d only have to worry about Phil tomorrow right?” 

   “Well, that’s part of it,” He stated bluntly, never one to be dishonest. “He has only one life and he’s going to want to fight, he has a lot to avenge. The government drove his eldest son mad, enough that Phil had to kill him. He’s one of my oldest friends, I wanna look out for him and protect him.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly at his response, you brushed your thumb across his cheek fondly. 

   “You’re wrong.” 

   “Eh?”

   “I do have something I want to fight for, I want to fight for what I believe is right. Let’s face it Techno the way everyone’s treating those children is sick. Dream manipulated Tommy and used Tubbo to get what he wanted from him. I know you did what you thought was right for Tommy but he’s a product of a war-torn country, they all are. Now, that doesn’t excuse his betrayal but… did he even know what the right thing to do was in this situation, does he even truly know what peace is? I want to fight to protect those kids. They deserve to know peace, true peace away from bloodshed and war. If I can I want to give them that.” You watched Technoblade’s jaw tighten, “I’m going with you tomorrow but I’m not going to kill the children.” 

   “I don’t think I can ever forgive Tommy.” He sighed adjusting his grip on you a sure sign he was nervous, “but I love you.” Techno kissed you once again, it was long and tender you watched as the apples of his cheeks turn red after you both pulled away. He took a breath, “You’re unstoppable and you’ve never stopped me before so I won’t do the same for you. Just stay safe. Please. You need to come home with me tomorrow I won’t settle for anything else.” 

   “I will. I promise.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and he hummed gently in response. “I love you Technoblade, I’ll fight beside you. Till the end of the line.”

   “Till the end of the line,” He repeated as you both approached the snow-covered house to convene with Philza Minecraft himself.

~~~

Hi guys! Officially feeling a bit better, enough to get a small part out before I work on the next chapter. I hope you like it, thanks so much for reading and your amazing feedback. Also, thanks so much for your kind words and well wishes! Also, also, If anyone ever makes fanart of this story (I doubt it would happen) please tag me and let me know. I love to make art myself and always wanna support other artists! Thanks Again!

[knchins]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLY!!!!

For birthday requests can you do a Mitsuya/reader “why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you” Drabble??

❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHH THANKS JENN AND TY FOR THE CUPCAKES YOU SENT ME!❤️❤️❤️ Here's some Mitsuya goodness for you! Also I used the word sweater so many times in this 300 word drabble I'm so sorry lmfao

Pairing: Mitsuya x Reader

TW: None

Reader Type: Gender Neutral (no fuck ups this time lol)

Mitsuya had been looking everywhere for it. It had to be here in his room, right? He looked under his bed one last time before an alarm on his phone told him that he would be late if he didn’t leave. His tan school sweater was missing in action and it was the only one he was allowed to wear on campus. He cursed, running outside to get to class on time.

Once there he saw you outside wearing a very familiar tan sweater. It was ill-fitting, the sleeves way too long and the torso was too baggy. He made a face, not knowing why you’d take his sweater the night before when you had been over for your sewing lesson. He had been teaching you the basics for the past few weeks, and he was suspecting that you were pretending not to get it on purpose just to spend time with him. But that would be silly, right?

He walked up to you, “Why are you wearing my sweater?” He asked, trying not to sound too annoyed as the wind caused goosebumps to crawl up his arms.

You gave him an innocent smile, knowing you were caught now and there wasn’t a way around it. “Because it smells like you.” You mumbled awkwardly, playing with the hem of the sleeves.

Mitsuya blinked, “You don’t really care about learning how to sew, do you?”

You wanted to hide your face from the embarrassment you were feeling at him figuring you out. “You caught me.” You said, not looking at him.

You heard him sigh, not seeing the grin that accompanied his face after, “Wanna go out sometime?”

Your eyes darted to him in shock, seeing his wide smile. Suddenly your mouth and throat seemed way too dry to speak properly. “I, uh, yes?”

“Meet me here after school. See you then,” He said, winking as he walked to class, forgetting all about his sweater.

Check out my Death to my Youth Event where Tokyo Rev and JJK requests are open until Dec. 24th! Link is on my pinned navigation post!

[anyroads]

There's also a history of radical feminists celebrating periods that goes back decades. Inga Muscio wrote in her book Cunt in 1998 about how women should celebrate their periods the way she does: by eschewing painkillers and inviting (female) friends over and holding a ceremony, among other things. There was a whole movement in the 90s (which I think was an extension of an earlier one) centered around women celebrating their periods as a form of breaking free from patriarchal rule. Radical feminists touted the idea that using pain medication was just as damaging as using pads and tampons, because both were inventions of the patriarchy and aimed at hiding and muting the divine feminine manifesting through a woman's period. I've participated (not voluntarily, long story) in women's circles where these ideas, along with specific terminology, were forced onto us as well as stories involving the saving and using of menstrual blood (but somehow they didn't bother to share the idea of this being done through the use of a menstrual cup which I wouldn't learn about until years later AND REALLY WISH I WOULD HAVE I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY BURIED THE LEAD LIKE THAT BUT OK). Bleeding into the earth, painting with menstrual blood, giving it to a shaman, you name it. I had a friend who passed around her artwork at a dinner table once and didn't mention until everyone had handled it that she had used her period blood, because she assumed that was something everyone was fine with.

All this has been part of radical feminism for a long time. Personally, as a cis woman, it fills me with a blind rage. It's exclusionary, not just of trans men, but of all the women who have PCOS, endometriosis, and violently painful periods for any other reason. I can't take painkillers for my periods now for health reasons, but when I could you would have had to pry them out of my cold dead hands. Which I did say in that particular circle of women, because it has nothing to do with the patriarchy, it has to do with me wanting to live my life and not spend 2-3 days in agony.

That's the thing with radfems, though, isn't it? They will throw other women under the bus just as easily as the allies and trans men and trans women they hate so much, just to uphold their skewed, bigoted, often damaging world view. Radfems have always been exclusionary and always will be. You have to feel pain during your period to be a "real" woman but that's obviously a practice that's easier for women with milder cramps and excludes or imposes torture on women with significant pain (similarly the burn-your-bra movement was conveniently centered around young women with smaller breasts for whom there was no back pain without support, because it's the same shit over and over with these people). It's ableist as fuck, too. Because for them it's not really about the principles they tout, but about control through oppression, while pretending they're the oppressed ones. I learned at a young age how easily they will claim to be oppressed while denying my experiences of pain and an expression of my womanhood in a way that diverged from theirs. The shit they're throwing at trans people now is just the same shit they've been doing for decades and decades. The reason the terf-to-nazi pipeline is a short stroll is that both are ultimately rooted in a fascist approach to controlling other people's bodies.

But yeah, using periods to define womanhood isn't a new thing for radfems. All I can say is, as a cis woman, I've had more helpful, supportive, constructive, and realistic conversations about my periods with my trans friends than with any radfem I've ever met.

saw that screenshot from a tik tok going around right now where it’s a woman saying that the “men have periods” shit is too woke. and someone in the comments is going “FOR REAL! can’t us WOMEN just have SOMETHING” and the thing is with that. is that…. a lot of the time i see people talk about periods. it’s always complaining about it. every cis woman friend i have irl who gets periods always go “oh god i’m on my period this sucks” every single joke online about periods is always “a week out of the month my uterus turns into a ninja and stabs me etc etc etc” you know the ones. people LOVE complaining about periods. and to see people go, after all of this bitching and crying of how people just want to get rid of their period forever- “oh periods are a staple of womanhood and beautiful feminine thing” is. so odd. because no they’re not. you have talked about how they’re not before. we all have. but the minute a trans guy gets a period suddenly it’s all “periods are BEAUTIFUL AND WOMANLY” so i guess it all really boils down to. you don’t want periods all to yourself. you just want an excuse to hate on trans guys.