#and wasn't thought to have any “natural” inclination for violence

[boyfridged]

it's so interesting that the version of robin jay that actually argued with bruce about the nature of his work and was outspoken about it was pre-crisis jay. the fact that he openly challenged the no killing rule and subtly taunted bruce over the fact that he [bruce] once killed someone in self-defence... it might seem surprising to some given his background but i think it makes so much sense that he was so openly critical. a part of it was definitely that the authors liked to use him for the sake of certain moral lessons, but what's interesting, it wasn't always merely instrumental; the readers were supposed to consider what jase said a challenge to bruce's reasoning. and for it to come from jase also made sense – there was always that shadow of doubt that (pre-crisis) jason had regarding vigilantism; he was never very religious about it. and he was a character who, unlike post-crisis jay, was given (by both the narrative and in-universe, because of his upbringing and natural self-confidence) so much freedom in exploring the meaning of the world around him. he was the "fresh" eyes when it comes to the mythos and the legacy and because of that, his pov was actually valued. and this tendency to be contrarian wasn't ever written as an ominous sign of his dark fate either...

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Danish Werewolf in The City:

The First Sight.

Note: follow up to The First Shift. I have read this over and over and over again, and I just had to let it go and post it. May have missed some mistakes as my eyes literally hurt by now :') 

Warnings: 18+! horror/gore described, mention of (child) death/murder. once again, it's a dark werewolf fic...

pairing: Werewolf!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You had fallen in love with a werewolf. 

wordcount: 3,6k

Masterlist

Chapter 1.

That something had been different about Sihtric became evident during the first few months of your relationship. 

You had first met at work, for you were both veterinarians, and you were transferred for a day to Sihtric's location as they were short staffed, and you both knew it was love at first sight. His hair was of shoulder length and braided, the sides were shaved freshly and his facial hair was well kept too. Sihtric was simply a breathtaking man, and he treated you with the utmost respect once you began dating, even asking permission before he first kissed you.

The first weeks of dating were like a dream, but then Sihtric suddenly started to disappear every few weeks for about three days. He had just gone without a word, but then showed up at your door again as if nothing had happened after those three seemingly random days. It was almost as if he died every few weeks, only to suddenly rise from the grave again and return to you, looking as beautiful and charming as ever, so you couldn't help but continue to fall for him and ignore your suspicions. Sihtric promised you that his disappearances had nothing to do with you, but that he sometimes struggled "with his own being", whatever that meant. But he soon felt inclined to open up to you and tell you about his wolf problem, as he sensed you began to doubt his loyalty due to his recurring strange behaviour.

And werewolves were not unheard of, nor were other creatures of the night, as you had treated numerous animals who had clearly been at the claws of those beings. You had just never met one and you surely never thought you'd fall in love with one, so you had a hard time accepting his honesty for a little while. You couldn't possibly imagine this was a curse he had lived with his whole life and only exposed itself during his late teens. And you, like any other regular human being, only knew of the fairytales which described werewolves as hideous monsters, and yet Sihtric wasn't a monster, for all you knew at least.

And he also wasn't the young and frightened boy anymore which he had told you about, yet it still saddened you gravely that he had lived such a tragic and lonely life, before he changed into the confident man he was now. Sihtric was clearly in full control of his other being too, only shifting when the Moon was full or when a situation called for it, so you chose to believe and trust him completely after you had taken a few days to yourself to let it all sink in. And you slowly began to understand him more and more.

The scars on his face had been something you used to ponder about at night, as he never gave you a clear answer to how he had gotten those. It was only after you found out about his beast-like nature that the scars, which graced his face as well as the rest of his impressive and muscular body, were claw markings he had earned in territorial brawls and violent fights over time, earning him the true alpha status he held now.

Sihtric's short temper, impatience and hunger for violence were also things you had been wary of at first, but it was already clear that he would never be aggressive towards you or those he cared for. He was only incredibly protective and possessive of you, both traits you didn't really mind as it made you feel safe and desired by a beautiful man. The way he always held you close in public or how he refused to let you walk home on your own once it was dark, it all made your heart beat faster for him. But you also never suspected Sihtric did those things out of a fear which was deeply rooted inside of him and every other werewolf; terrified of losing a loved one to a werewolf's natural enemy.

But the most peculiar thing about Sihtric were probably his sexual urges, and the fact that he seemed to have an insatiable sex drive. You could make love for an entire rainy day, and he still wouldn't be completely satisfied or even remotely tired, like a normal human would be. And for some reason he always insisted on being intimate in the dark, with the lights off and the curtains closed, which struck you as odd too, for his physical appearance was not one to be ashamed of.

Another thing was that Sihtric has a tendency to suddenly sink his teeth in your skin whenever you were intimate, never drawing blood or piercing your flesh, but hard enough to leave a mark behind on your body that was more serious than a simple love bite. You also swore you saw his eyes glow every time you had sex, one a bright red and the other a piercing blue. It seemed so inhuman, but you told yourself it had to be a reflection of some sort which simply enhanced his heterochromia. And it often felt as if his nails became sharper during intercourse, leaving scratches all over your skin and tearing up the sheets as well, and he loved to drag his tongue over your body, which felt pleasantly smooth but sometimes larger than a human tongue could possibly be. Sihtric also loves to chase you around his house whenever you'd stay over, before capturing you and throwing you on his bed, where he'd fuck you like a feral beast for hours on end. 

He couldn't explain his needs and desires to you at the time, as he did not want to frighten you with the truth that he truly was a beast, and you just figured he was an intense lover. But once you knew the truth about him, everything just made sense. And as you were in love, you weren't necessarily frightened or worried, or even fully grasping the extent of what him being a werewolf meant. 

And you couldn't even begin to imagine the horrific sights you were to witness, or the terrible stories you would hear…

You walked hand in hand with Sihtric, over a lonely path that led through darkened woods you both knew all too well. The moon was waning, barely visible as she was almost renewed again. It was a quiet and late summer night, the air was mellow and you were dressed in a loose shirt and some shorts, while Sihtric wore a sleeveless top and long dark jeans. Most people were long asleep already, but you and Sihtric were a match made in heaven as you both enjoyed the dark and quietness after sunset, and with your werewolf lover by your side you felt as if you had nothing left to fear for.

Several weeks had passed since you had fully accepted your werewolf boyfriend, and you had never been more in love. But the horrors you were to face soon, as you strolled through the woods while stealing kisses and murmuring sweet nothings to each other in the dead of night as your hands were intertwined, were horrors you would never forget for as long as your heart would beat.

'You don't dare to say it,' you giggled as you moved swiftly between the thick trees, playfully running and hiding from your beloved, who would always find you with ease due to his werewolf senses. But that didn't make it any less fun for either of you.

'Yes, I do,' Sihtric laughed as he caught you in his strong arms, and he brought you down to the ground without flexing a single muscle.

He quickly climbed on top of you and leaned in, cupping your cheeks and softly nuzzling your nose lovingly, while his low chuckle made you lightheaded and your lips curled into a smitten smile. You smelled the earthy scent of the ground beneath you as you were pinned down by a man so much stronger than you, but Sihtric had you so enchanted that you didn't even care your clothes would become dirty or your hair messy, and you had never felt more safe than you did whenever your body was pressed against his.

'Then say it,' you quietly dared him again as your hands moved up in his long loose hair, and slowly raked through it to which he closed his eyes and smiled.

'I love you,' Sihtric whispered, lips faintly touching yours, 'I really do.'

Your breath hitched when you finally heard those words you had so dared him to speak, and you pulled him in, closing the last small distance that was left and your lips locked in the sweetest, yet most needy kiss possible.

'Say you love me,' Sihtric growled softly, smiling, and he gently headbutted you.

'I love you too,' you smiled and trailed your hands down his chest.

Sihtric dropped his head with a shy smile upon hearing you say it, overwhelmed with his feelings for you, which were of such force that it almost made it hard for him to breathe. But his bliss was only short lasting when he suddenly caught a scent, and he snapped his head up while his face was set serious and his mismatched eyes wide. He sat completely still, and you could see his ears wiggly faintly at something you couldn't hear.

'What?' you asked, confused while running your hands over his arms as you looked up at him, 'what is it?'

'The undead,' Sihtric said monotonically and perked up further.

'What?' you half laughed.

'The undead. I smell them.'

'Wait,' you chuckled nervously, 'you mean like… zombies?'

Sihtric scoffed lightly and shook his head.

'I wish it was zombies,' he said and pulled you up with him, 'but I mean vampires, love.'

Sihtric placed his hand on the small of your back, politely urging you to walk with him as he gradually increased his speed, wanting to bring you back home safely and far away from the scent that lingered in the air for him. But before you could make it out of the woods, you were already surrounded.

Sihtric's eyes darted over the pale and heartbeat-lacking creatures, his jaw clenched tightly while he held you in his arms and pressed firmly against him. You weren't all that up-to-date about werewolves and their rivals, but you knew like most people that vampires and lycanthropes never got along, and you clung onto your still human shaped boyfriend while one vampire stepped forward.

'Well, well,' the pale man laughed, 'a dog and it's human, and what an endearing pup you are!'

'What is it you want?' Sihtric cut to the point, 'because this is neutral ground, so there is no need for anyone to get harmed.'

'Well,' the master vampire scoffed, who looked old and ugly, 'your father killed my wife on neutral ground. So it is only fair if I return the favour and kill,' he paused and gestured at you, 'whatever she is to you.'

'I have nothing to do with what my father-'

'Ah!' the vampire exclaimed as he sniffed the air, ignoring Sihtric, 'such fresh human blood running through her veins, but sadly… not a virgin anymore. Oh, well,' the old vampire shrugged while the others grinned, 'I'll take her anyway. And sure, you may have nothing to do with your father, but you are still a werewolf of his tribe.'

'I'm not part of his tribe!' Sihtric hissed, 'I created my own.'

'But you're all the same, are you not?' the vampire spoke slowly as he crept closer, 'sneaking into houses at night… waking up defenceless mothers… asking if you can take their child away… and in their hazy and disorientated state they might just give their permission, and that's another snack earned easily, no? And, oh, how you wolves hypnotise those children, as well as the cattle of the same poor family, with just your gazes. And for what? For thinking the curse could be broken? Such foolish dogs you are…'

You listened carefully and shivered at the ideas the ancient one bestowed. You looked up at Sihtric, whose face did all but ease your fright that he could be a monster such as described. Sihtric looked away from you, as if ashamed, and he only swallowed hard in response to your gaze while he looked down at his feet. The vampire became aware of your horror, and was entertained at the idea that you would most likely be disgusted with your partner now, and he laughed.

'Oh, does she not know?' he asked Sihtric, darkly amused, 'does she also not know how you attacked the very first human you encountered in your wolf form, after your first transition? Or the other thing you have done to try and break your curse, hm? Because I know all about you, Sihtric Kjartansson, and I could tell your lovely lady here all about you.'

Sihtric suddenly snarled, and you flinched at the guttural sound as he held you protectively in his arms.

'Don't!' Sihtric bared his teeth at the vampire, 'don't you dare-'

'This beast,' the vampire mocked Sihtric and looked at you, 'has attacked numerous pregnant women in his life, yes, yes. For those silly Danish werewolves all believe that if they were to eat a fresh male foetus, thus slicing open a poor lady's womb with a single scratch of their claw to obtain the unborn child, their curse would be broken.'

You felt dizzy and sick to your stomach while the vampire snickered. You had no response, you only stared intently and quietly at the master, wishing that his words were all just lies and that Sihtric would never do such a monstrous thing or believe such a horrible superstition. And you felt Sihtric's chest heave up and down as he fought his urge to shift, while a roaring anger boiled inside of him and his arms around you became tighter, almost suffocating.

Sihtric never meant to hide his blooddrenched past from you, but it was something he was deeply ashamed of and knew it would most likely scare you away from him. He wanted to tell you everything about him, but in time. You had only just gotten used to the fact that he was a werewolf, and he intended on easing you into the awful secrets of his past, but now a truly dark page of his life was suddenly exposed to you. His early days as a young werewolf had been confusing, violent and bloody, as he had tried everything he possibly could to undo his first transformation. No matter how horrific it was, Sihtric tried everything, he even tried to undo his werewolf being by converting to Christianity at some point.

'And… did it work, wolf boy?' the elder snickered, 'killing those harmless women and eating their children?'

'Would you like to find out? You filthy fucking bloodsucker!' Sihtric threatened, and the vampires began to close in rapidly.

Sihtric shoved you behind him, and he bared his teeth at the vampires before he told you to run.

'Run and don't look back, whatever you hear,' he urged and gave you a light push, 'run home, and don't invite anyone in who might show up at your door.'

'I… I-,' you stammered, visibly shaking and still in shock after everything that had just happened, but Sihtric cut you off before you could say anything else.

'Run! Now!' he growled, and you did as you were told.

You turned and ran as fast as you possibly could to exit the woods, but when you heard the sudden sound of clothes being ripped at the seams and the awful sound of bones snapping, you stopped running. You turned to face Sihtric again while you were at a distance, and what you then witnessed couldn't be anything other than a nightmare. You saw how your boyfriend grew and ripped out of his clothes, and you heard his bones snap as he deformed and fell down on all fours. You watched and heard him grunt and growl, while every muscle in his body contracted until a sudden thick coat of fur appeared on his bare back and his face changed into that of a monstrous being. Your eyes grew wide at the horrific sight of the half man-half wolf, who had told you he loved you only moments ago. And you felt sick at the sight of his blooded claws and those sharp teeth, remembering how he had used those to devour humans and cattle with. Those same hands that had caressed you and those same teeth he had dragged over your naked body, only so carefully and full of love, unlike what he had used them for on others.

You saw how Sihtric got up on his back legs, being twice his human size and towering over the vampires like an optical illusion. His muscular torso was still recognisable, even with the thin layer of black fur covering it now. And he was a… a beast. A foul creature of the night! And yet he still had enough human traits that you recognised your boyfriend in the murderous animal in the distance. You opened your mouth as you wanted to scream at the terrifying sight, but no sound ever left your throat as you watched the horror unfold while you were nailed to the ground.

The vampires had long forgotten about you, they'd rather slaughter a werewolf than drink the blood of a polluted human who had slept with their enemy. And you then heard Sihtric's deafening and bone chilling howl echoing through the dark night as he threw his head back, and he raised his massive arms and began to swing at the vampires who dared to take their chance. You heard the nauseating sound of claws ripping through flesh and the splattering of blood against the thick trees, and the sight of limbs being ripped and torn off was a terror you would never forget, while the bone crunching sound of it made you fall to your knees, and you retched as you began to cry.

And after you had witnessed half of the vampire massacre, which seemed to happen in slow motion while in reality it all went so fast, Sihtric snapped his head towards you, and he snarled loudly at you before he was jumped by the remaining vampires. His snarl was so heavy and frightening that it rumbled through the air and made you jump up, and you began to run again as fast as your legs allowed. And as the tears rolled down your face while you ran, you covered your ears upon hearing what sounded like a dog wince and cry in pain. You knew the heartbreaking noise came from Sihtric, but you were too afraid to look back, so you ran home…

You weren't sure how much time had passed after you had reached your home and locked the doors behind you with blind panic. You only remembered running upstairs, to your bedroom, where you threw up and fainted once you sat down on your bed, not having closed your bedroom window.

You were woken up sometime later, the sky outside still dark while the streets were quiet, and you slightly raised your head up when a sudden sense of dread alarmed you. You held your breath once you caught a foul whiff of the smell of blood and flesh, and you slowly turned to face the nightmare that stood in your room, which had climbed in through your window and had shredded your curtains. You cowered at the shadowy sight of your werewolf boyfriend towering over you as he stood at the end of your bed, and you began to cry for help. Sihtric then whined and backed off, throwing his large, hairy and clawed hands up to show you he meant no harm, but he also understood you were terrified of him as you hid your face behind your hands while you muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

Sihtric was too ashamed to shift back to his human form, he couldn't possibly face you as himself, but he knew he also couldn't keep his current shape. So he crouched down and, out of your sight, shifted from his horrible werewolf figure into that of a large black coated wolf. He then carefully moved closer and climbed on your bed. You yelped and flinched at his first touch; a light headbutt to your shoulder to gain your attention, and you then slowly lowered your hands and saw the monster was no longer there anymore. Instead, there was a beautiful big black wolf staring at you, with the big and recognisable mismatched puppy dog eyes of the man you loved, and a calming sensation seemed to wash over you.

You sniffled and backed away at first when you felt his tongue wipe away your tears, but you believed he meant well and allowed him to come closer again. Sihtric headbutted you once more, lovingly, and he then wrapped his front legs around you and pushed you to lay down. You turned to face him, and you couldn't stop yourself from grabbing onto his thick fur and burying your face in it as you began to cry again. 'Sihtric,' was all you could whisper, to which he whined softly. Sihtric was heartbroken to see you like this and knowing he was the cause of it all, and he pulled you in closer with his paws. He used his big, soft and bushy black tail as a security blanket, enveloping you whole while he held you tightly wrapped in his front legs, with his big fluffy wolf head resting on top of yours.

You were safe.

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[cosmicjoke]

What Levi's Lack of Response to His Assault Tells Us:

Something else I want to talk about in "Bad Boy" is how Levi reacts to the treatment of the men who assault him, and what it tells us about him and his expectations for how he should or would be treated.

He doesn't cry, and he doesn't beg, and he doesn't expect anyone to help him.  He’s essentially non-reactive. 

Levi nearly gets beaten to death, and he's obviously in extraordinary pain, and he also gets threatened with sexual abuse, assault and kidnapping.  But he never really shows any fear, even as his face is twisted in agony and desperation, and he never really protests the treatment he's receiving, either through tears or pleading. He never shows any offense at how they speak to and about him. He never asks them to stop hurting him, and he never even tries to defend himself or get away. Even after being brutally beaten, kicked viciously in the chest/abdomen, he only tells the men to give his mother's tea set to him, that it belonged to her. He doesn't beg them to stop, or beg for mercy, or for his life, he simply keeps insisting that the set isn't theirs.

What this tells us about Levi is that he's used to this kind of treatment.

A child who wasn't used to being beaten or roughed up in this manner, or even threatened in this way, would with certainty cry and even fall into hysterics. They would scream and beg and cry for help. They would be sobbing. They would be terrified.

But Levi displays none of these behaviors. In fact, he even shows defiance in the face of their treatment, insisting they give him back what, by rights, belongs to him, and only fights back when they start speaking ill of his mother, something which highlights, once again, Levi's heartbreaking and inherent selflessness, that even then he felt others were worth fighting for, even as he felt no such inclination to fight for himself, something we see in him again and again throughout the main story. He did this knowing it was only going to result in him being hit again, knowing it was only going to result in him being more badly beaten.   He was willing to take that to defend his mother.

But again, Levi's lack of response, his lack of tears, lack of fear, lack of any attempt toward self-preservation, tells us that Levi is used to being smacked around and beaten up. That he's beaten almost to death, and he still doesn't show any fear or beg for mercy shows he's been raised to expect this kind of treatment, and that he's been raised to believe this is what the world is, and this is how people will treat you, that this is how he expects people to treat him.

It's pretty obvious to me from this that Kenny used to beat Levi, and that he let Levi get beaten by other men, probably in some twisted attempt to bring out Levi's power.

Further, the fact that Levi showed no, true initiative to fight for himself, despite the kind of treatment and threats he was being subjected to, shows that he didn't care if he lived or died, that he had no real regard for his own life, well-being or safety. It shows a breathtaking lack of self-worth. 

That’s what happens to a person who’s been repeatedly abused and exposed to deep trauma, physical, emotional, and mental, at the very least.

Further still, when Levi finally does fight back, his attack is completely ineffectual.  This shows us that, while Kenny taught Levi to fight, Levi himself showed no real ability, strength, talent for or natural inclination toward violence.  Despite Kenny’s lessons, Levi is still helpless, and even exceptionally so.  I’ve always thought if someone with a propensity for violence, like Eren, for example, had received the kind of training Levi did, he would have been deadly.  He was deadly, even without training, as we see with how he approaches Mikasa's kidnappers.  But we see here that Levi is completely at the mercy of these men, because, as I’ve said again and again, Levi isn’t naturally inclined toward violence.  I don’t think it comes naturally to him at all.  What this tells us is that, almost certainly, Levi was on the receiving end of many bad beatings without being able to actually defend himself, and doubtless all manner of other abuses.  And that would only have been worsened by what we see here in him, which is a total lack of will to live or sense of self-preservation. 

It isn’t even a will to live that makes Levi eventually kill these men.  It’s simply the awakening of his Ackerman powers, compelling him to act in defense of himself without thought, an instinct to survive sparked and driven by something outside himself. 

This story just continues to shatter my heart into pieces.

Levi really is a miracle of a man.  That he’s still so good, and so caring, and fights so hard for others, despite all of this… God, it’s truly devastatingly tragic. 

[idyllic-affections]

hmm thinking about the recent trend with sibling xiao recs, what about if he has zhongli babysit one day? just some kind fatherly zhongli for the soul…

fatherly inclinations.

summary. zhongli takes on a fatherly role over xiao's younger sibling figure.

trigger & content warnings. brief references to implied violence.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. zhongli & reader, (implied) xiao & younger sibling!reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. the way i had to literally dig this request out of my inbox..... it was all the way at the bottom....... the triple digits are getting closer every day LMAO but anyway. just know that if you have sent in a request, i promise you it does cross my mind every once in a while. anyways fatherly zhongli is very good for the soul!!!!! it is important to get your daily recommended dose of kind dad-like old man zhongli <3333

i believe zhongli has a number of fatherly traits to him, whether he realizes it or not... but of course, i also think he is aware of it.

he is—or more accurately, was—rex lapis, after all. surely it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen as a fatherly figure? the people of liyue looked up to him as one when he was a god, so it isn't like it's a new experience for him or anything.

he's used to it, but that doesn't mean he feels any less endeared by people who deem him as such! it happens often, but he never ceases to feel a parental warmth when it does happen. perhaps it has something to do with his more... dragon-like instincts.

whatever the case may be, he isn't at all bothered by being seen in such a familial way. in fact, he's quite fond of it.

so, inevitably, he would naturally take on that kind of role over his own beloved son's yaksha's younger sibling figure.

...though, as good of a father figure as he is, i think he would be a little bit of a boring person for those not interested in his lengthy history rambles.

but assuming xiao's sibling is interested, for the sake of this post—

he's happy to tell them about anything they'd like to know. if they have questions about liyue's history or about the times when the other yakshas were alive, he's completely alright with telling them his tales... excluding the more violent and grotesque details, of course.

(something tells me he wouldn't want to ruin their image of him, but... he's sure they know part of the truth. they don't say anything about it, so neither does he.)

i think zhongli has a handful of funny stories about xiao, which he totally tells the yaksha's little sibling about. he doesn't mean to embarrass the poor thing! it's more of a wistful, fond nostalgia thing for the ex-archon. now, cloud retainer or madame ping on the other hand...

well. their stories would certainly come with the intention of being teasing, but zhongli is not either of those people. he does it because he's just very fond of those times.

if they're interested in doing something or spending their time somewhere, zhongli will just borrow mora from childe to make it happen LMAO

he'll also take them out to eat with that mora and let them get whatever they'd like <3 it's not like it would put a huge dent in childe's savings, anyway, so it's fine.

(to be honest, childe would probably be especially happy to share if he knew zhongli was using it to spoil a kid. he's just that kind of guy, you know? it shouldn't come as a surprise, given that he has little siblings of his own.)

AND AND AND consider zhongli telling them about liyue's native plants and flowers... he'll explain their symbolisms, how those meanings have evolved over time, what conditions they need to grow properly, etc etc. if they made him a flower crown, he would proudly wear it btw.

he likes sharing information, you know? it's something of a love language.

he's seen so much. he knows so much.

why should he withhold that information, those thousands of years of wisdom, from the people he loves? the way he sees it, maybe one day the information he shares will be of use.

[name] may not be his child biologically or legally, but he sees them as one of his own all the same, just as he did the yakshas and just as he does to the one who remains.

and, you know, if they happen to fall asleep at the end of the day on his shoulder, i don't think he would mind. he'd just lean over, gently kiss them on the temple, adjust their posture so that they don't wake up sore, and kindly murmur with all the tenderness to be expected of a man such as himself, "sleep well, little one."

perhaps xiao comes to find them and take them home, or perhaps zhongli takes them.back to wangshu inn himself.

whatever the case may be, they will be returned home safely.

nothing will get to them with zhongli around.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[eruden-writes]

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 21 (Yautja x Human)

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Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (coming soon)

CW: Violence, blood, death.

Tag list: @ajarofpickledtears, @boogeysmothth

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Early chapters available on Patreon for my patrons! ;)

(Yes, Part 22 is already available on there.)

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! ♥

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Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

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It was always easier to covertly sneak into a place when chaos consumed it. Everyone else was too focused on solving the more dire problem, they didn't remain alert to new, unseen, issues that may creep up. Not that he wasn't proficient in sneaking. With the cloaking technology and the thermal netting - which made his exterior ambient while retaining heat on the inside - Tai'dqei already had a leg up on even the most observant watcher.

Luckily, that's how he found the resort on Rerli 3, after a long trek from where he landed his cloaked ship. It took no effort to sneak through the doors, as random aliens darted in and out, shouting orders and seemingly searching for something. Or someone.

Like a phantom, Tai'dqei scouted out the resort in silence, sidestepping rushing bodies and slinking into rooms with open doors.

It didn't take him long to find out Rayelle had been correct on a number of points.

The staff were androids, he found, after stumbling into a tech repair area. Replacement android parts, from face to limbs, lined the shelves. Apparently the staff had been recently hacked by the alien forces filling the halls. That, or the whole resort was a fucking front. That thought made a growl threaten to spill from his throat, but Tai'dqei clamped down on it.

However, the agitation swarming the resort wasn't an event planning sort of excitement. There was a sharper edge to the air, a sense of fright and chaos, of surprise and lividness. Which soothed Tai'dqei's concerns a little. Even if the resort was a front, whatever they had planned had gone awry. He faintly wondered if it was Rayelle, but shoved the thought away.

He'd find out, eventually. But barely contained himself as he silently trailed others until he located a security office.

When he finally did slip into security, Tai'dqei got some of the answers he sought.

Various parts of the resort reflected on various holo screens. However, two were enlarged and being watched by the two Canoid guards seated in front of the console.

"They seriously disconnected it from the systems?" One laughed, apparently having just sat down since the chair creaked beneath his muscular bulk.

"Yeah, apparently there's a mechanical override mechanism on the door." The other was smaller, lither. But still had muscles flex as they motioned to a particular video rectangle. "They can still open and close it themselves, but outsiders can't do shit."

Tai'dqei silently edged closer, steps silent. He peered at the indicated screen, seeing if he could spot Rayelle. All he saw were fuzzy images of presumed humans.

"Shit, these humans really planned, huh?" The first one chuckled, throwing an arm behind their chair as they settled and barely missing the invisible mass of Tai'dqei. "Thought they were clueless."

The other barked an uncharacteristically deep laugh for such a small frame. With a clawed finger, they pointed to another, smaller screen. 'Outside 1950s Bunker' blinked in the corner of the screen. "Yeah, well, y'see the angry mess of tentacles there?"

They pointed to a blob on the screen. A blob that the invisible Tai'dqei knew very well. He knew those writhing masses were vines with sprouting thorns and that, beneath all that, Zav seethed.

The other guard leaned forward with a mean sort of laugh. "Is that bossman?"

"Yeah," gossiped the other, their lips crooked in a smirk. "I heard he went full aggro mode after one of the tits carved his face up with a knife or some shit."

Tai'dqei's attention spun to the gossiper, his eyes widening. Was that something Rayelle would do? Her immediate response to meeting an intimidating yautja was to attack and run. The deduction wouldn't be too unwarranted.

The two guards laughed together for a moment, still unaware of Tai'dqei's presence. He was beginning to consider killing the two, in order to get further with his own investigation, when a disembodied voice hissed from the guards' own wrist gauntlets, "Hey, you two. You're needed out by the 1970s kitchen. We think someone's holed up in the vent there."

Both of them sighed, as if put-upon, and rose from their chairs. In reply, one of them issued back, "Right, right. Heading there now."

And just like that, the two left their post. Even leaving the security office unlocked.

Tai'dqei watched them go, mentally haranguing them for lacking awareness. But, if they hadnt' been so unaware of him, he'd never get the answers he sought. Turning back to the security footage, he crept closer to the screens.

One was indeed Zav, in full offensive mode, at the bottom of the screen. When the Florizian became utterly enraged, his form shifted. Tai'dqei hadn't seen it that often, but he recognized the spiky, flailing vines and massive growth of the body well enough. It appeared Zav was snarling at a door or wall.

Whatever or whoever on the other side likely wasn't opening up, any time soon.

On the other screen was the insides of what was labeled 'Interior 1950s Bunker' in the lower corner. It was tightly packed, filled with humans. None of them looked into the camera. Tai'dqei wasn't even sure they knew a camera was there.

He scanned frantically, seeking her. In the far edges of the screen, he saw other humans leaning over prone companions. Faintly, Tai'dqei wondered if Rayelle had been hurt. Was she lying prone, needing more medical help than what an aid kit could provide? Or worse?

Finally, his eyes found her - crouched in the corner of the room, nearest the door - and he involuntarily gave a relieved chuff. The quality of the vid didn't allow Tai'dqei to judge her expression. Her body language, on the other hand, appeared tired and strained. Of course, that was only to be expected, if she took part in - or orchestrated - this chaos.

His main concern assuaged a fraction, Tai'dqei turned to his wrist gauntlet. It took longer than he liked to find a satellite to ping his message off of, while also making sure no one became aware of his presence, but he eventually managed. As soon as his encrypted communique shot into space, calling in reinforcements with an explanation of the circumstances, Tai'dqei turned back to the security console.

A number of options spun about his head, but it didn't take long to choose one. He needed to ruin the system, make it impossible for the enemy to utilize security capabilities.

Removing a gadget from his belt, Tai'dqei slapped it to the side of the computer. Released from their container, the nanobots ate into the metal of the console, on their way to destroying the system from the inside out. Tai'dqei cast one more look at the screens, trying to make sense of the layout and locating the power grid and generators.

Once that was done, he was going to rain hell on anyone non-human.

Then, with the dangers taken care of, he'd find Rayelle.

Tai'dqei slid from the security office, purpose and plan in place.

A yautja's fury was something to behold. And these fuckers were about to beholden it.

—

At first, Rayelle thought they were trying to smoke out the AWOL humans. Lights dimmed, a cacophony of different alarms sounded before draining away, as if their batteries had died over the course of minutes. More frantic panic bled into the bunker from the halls. Screams and trotting feet, most of it drawing away from their shelter.

Then more shouts as bodies and feet rushed the other way, past the door to the bunker. Some of the hollering ended abruptly, but Rayelle couldn't determine if it was due to voluntary or involuntary means.

Looking out over the others sheltering with her, everyone seemed to wear a similar concerned expression.

Something was wrong.

Well, something else was wrong.

Nervousness skittered across her skin, forcing her to stand from her crouch. Fright jolted through her when the lights fully gave up, plunging everything into darkness. Although the slow blinking of emergency lights, charged from a generator or emergency supply somewhere, illuminated the world. The red hues, fading in and out of the dark, weren't helping the growing anxiety.

"What the fuck is going on?" Abe asked, his voice warbling between a concerned whisper and a bruque snarl.

"I think something else is happening," Rayelle answered, cutting through the hushed theories. "Beyond our little rebellion."

A hesitantly hopeful tone came from Lisa, "Do you think someone's alien-in-shining-armor answered the calls?"

As it turned out, Rayelle wasn't the only human who had been brought to the resort by an alien. Hell, some of the others had done more with their traveling companions than she even thought about with Tai'dqei. She didn't even understand why some had parted ways, if she was being honest.

Trying to shove the small envious whispers in her head aside, Rayelle shrugged and sighed. "Don't know. When I got here, I couldn't send a message out, so it would've had to be before everything happened."

Whatever anyone else was going to say in reply was interrupted as a scream rent through the air. It was very, very close.

Something slammed bodily against the door. More cries and shrieks tore through the air, making many of the people in the bunker wince or cover their ears. Good thing, Rayelle thought, as she thought she heard the schluck of metal slicing flesh and the spill of copious amounts of blood. Of course, she strained her ears to hear that much and it could have been paranoia playing tricks on her.

Carefully, she crept closer to the door again.

Zav, who apparently hadn't abandoned the viewport as others rushed by, dodged when a body thumped against the door. He swung around, his tendrils riled, flexing along his body like enraged worms. Rayelle pressed her face to the glass, straining her eyes to see what - or who - Zav addressed, but she saw nothing in the red-black darkness.

Something tickled at the back of her memories. Wanting attention, but for the life of her she couldn't grasp it. Her attention was too focused on what was happening in the hall.

She didn't have a chance to focus on anything as Zav, with ridiculous speed, threw himself at the invisible foe.

Behind her, Abe hovered, squinting into the darkness. "Was there a gas leak or something? He literally went off after nothing."

Rayelle narrowed her eyes, focusing on the vague shape of Zav, scrambling and flailing down the hall. She angled her vantage point to continue watching him. Judging from his movements, he was attempting to fight something. His tendrils shot out with intention, slapped in a direction. She thought she spotted huge thorns shot across the corridor, spraying across something that seemed to glitter in the shadows.

"I don't think so," Rayelle said as she focused further on Zav and his surrounding area.

His writhing vines whipped around faster. Seeking, striking something in the shadows. In the dark and in the throbbing red light, Rayelle had a hard time seeing anything. But she saw Zav's tentacles connect, a spray of that glittery reaction, and darkness again.

Finally, Zav seemed to feel assured of his opponent's location, charging their body across the corridor and...

Out of Rayelle's line of sight.

For a long breath, she stood at the door, struggling to see or hear anything. The shape of a shadow. The faint footfalls beyond. She closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint any sound outside the shelter. Every breath, every fidget, every shift inside the bunker irritated her as she strained.

There was nothing. Or she just couldn't hear anything.

Then, faintly, there was a shriek. Enraged, angry.

And another sound. Faint.

So faint, her mind could be playing tricks.

She willed herself to focus on it, to hear it. Through the heavy walls, she thought she heard a familiar clicking gnarl.

—

After arguing briefly with the others, Rayelle finally was allowed to poke her head outside and around the door. The silence in the corridor was even eerier after all the commotion. She took a tentative step out, armed with a fire extinguisher. Her nostrils flared, mingling scents of bitterness and copper tinged the air. Something wet and sticky slicked against her shoes and she forced herself not to look. Goosebumps lit across her flesh as she took another quiet step.

Slowly, she edged down the hall, in the direction Zav had gone. Tension wrought along her muscles, moving at a snail's pace in the alternating black-red world. Her mind twirled with a billion different explanations for what happened. An asteroid shower, an attack from another alien race, a natural disaster outside. Although, none of it really answered why Zav acted the way he had or the screams or the-

"I'll enjoy bending your little whore under me, Tai'dqei." Rayelle froze, hearing the Florizian's voice around the corner, perhaps fifty feet away. His tone wasn't the smooth, languid thing it was before. Like Zav, his voice became deep and thorny and filled with rage. Her grip tightened on the fire extinguisher as she peered slowly around the bend.

"I should have guessed she'd have a bit more bite, tagging along with you." It took Rayelle a moment to make sense of the forms in the lighting. Thankfully, Zav stood with his back to her. Briefly, she took a closer look at what the Florizian became. His lithe body was still there, but entangled in his mass of swollen, thorny tendrils. The vines whipped around, as if in a frenzy, seeking flesh and blood. She noticed there was some bright green liquid dripping from some of the appendages, but not enough for her to be concerned.

From the dark shadows near the ceiling, a warbling clicking growl was all the response Zav received. The sound sent a flash of electricity down her spine. Rayelle hazarded a glance to the dark, trying to make out the glint of armor or a telltale silhouette.

In her distraction, Zav inhaled deeply and spun toward her. "Speaking of your little slut..."

Tai'dqei hissed a curse to himself, his eyes darting to Rayelle's heat signature provided by his helmet. Why did she have to come out now? This made dispatching Zav harder, considering the Florizian had a faint ability to sense another's presence. It likely had something to do with breathing, but Tai'dqei wasn't entirely sure.

His stomach twisted, seeing how small the human was compared to Zav.

Rayelle's eyes widened as she took in the Florizian's large eyes, black as death and reflecting the fading red light. Dark ooze escaping between his serrated teeth. Was that blood? Or did he emit a vicious poison from his maw? She stumbled back a few steps, receiving an amused chortle from Zav.

"If you won't come out to play, Tai'dqei," Zav launched himself at Rayelle, hands and tendrils extended, "Maybe I'll play with her instead."

Tai'dqei let loose a snarl, heart thrumming as he launched himself down from the rafters of the corridor. Even in his mental calculations, he knew he couldn't reach either before they collided. He'd already used up so many of his projectile weapons, just from culling the others.

Frozen, Rayelle watched as the writhing mass of rage closed the distance in such a short amount of time. A wicked smile spread over his features, a delighted cruelty bright in his eyes. Rayelle didn't react until she could feel the balmy heat of the Florizian almost upon her. Her instincts blazed to the forefront as she registered a snarl from above.

Just as Zav was about to encapsulate her in vines and hands and teeth - Tai'dqei's stomach lurching at the image - she smashed the extinguisher against the side of his face, a primal scream falling from her lips. The extinguisher made a deep 'twung' on contact, metal slamming into flesh. Vibrations rolled up her arms, making her bones shudder.

Zav let loose a shrieky squawk, surprised by the sudden retaliation. His trajectory veered and slowed from instinct and a necessity to reconsider the situation.

Rayelle wasn't about to give him a chance to recover.

With another feral scream, she slammed the butt of the extinguisher into Zav's head, over and over. Until the metal became slick in her hands and she resorted to lengthwise bashing again. She ignored the vines that tried to wrap around her weapon, her arms, her body.

Tai'dqei had to force himself to focus, offering silent redirection to Zav's attacking tentacles, as she carried on her assault. Part of him watched her with admiration of her capability and savagery. Another part of him flaring with that familiar, aching need to have her be his.

Only partly, Rayelle realized something invisible was intercepting or slicing the entangled appendages from her, the vines writhing and falling to the floor. Otherwise, she was too incensed to notice the vines, as the sound of metal crunched soggily against cartilage or bone and flesh.

Zav crumpled lower and lower to the floor, her strikes followed him. Her thoughts swarmed with fury and resentment and ire. Over her own circumstances, over the muddied situations of others, over how many lives had been affected by this horny selfish asshole and others.

Warm blood splattered over her clothes, her arms, her face. Thankfully, none of it caustic and burning. She didn't stop until her arms ached and trembled and Zav was hunched over on the ground. Taking a step back, her breaths heaved as she took a look at her work.

Liquid pooled around her feet, more of that scent of cut grass filtering into her nose. Detached vines, some writhing and some still, covered the tiles. Rayelle had just lowered the extinguisher and stepped back when Zav jerked upright suddenly. He gave a strange tri-toned hissing shriek as he lunged.

She should have known he'd be as sturdy as a weed. Even with his face mangled and teeth chipped and bones or cartilage jutting his flesh into painful angles, his hatred fueled him.

Whatever he was intending to do, whatever her instincts braced Rayelle for, never came. Her eyes widened as Zav's face split in two, before she realized an invisible blade had cleaved the Florizian's head in twain. Invisible heft slammed into Zav, grappling the alien down to the floor.

She watched in wide-eyed horror as Zav's torso seemed to split open on its own, more dark blood spraying and oozing across the floor. He howled and gurgled and retched, body jerking and flexing, before suddenly seizing. The edges of his tendril-hair seemed to wither as Zav took one last, wheezy breath, and fell still.

There was another hiss of unseen metal on flesh and Zav's head fell lax from their neck.

Instinct, fear, adrenaline. It all pumped through Rayelle, wildly trying to register what had just happened. The air shifted in front of her. She didn't know how she knew. Maybe it was lighting or shadow, but it reared up her fight or flee instinct.

With a surprised half-yell, Rayelle slammed the extinguisher into the invisible force, despite her protesting muscles. There was a grunt on impact, before a cascade of flickering lights revealed who she had hit. As the slow blinking red lights illuminated his helmet, her eyes widened.

Something was wrong though. Rayelle got the sense Tai'dqei glowered at her behind his visor, his shoulders tensed. Her gaze flicked over his body, wondering if it wasn't him, if she had mistaken a different yautja for her former traveling companion. For the most part, his form felt familiar. If only the damned lights weren't red and she could tell for certain.

"Tai'dqei?" Rayelle gasped softly, hoping for a confirmation while her heart still pounded. Was this actuality? Or had she suffered from so much stress, she was imagining things? Though fluorescent green blood oozed from various points on his face and body. The amount of other, unidentified, liquid - presumably alien blood - far exceeded his own.

It took all of Tai'dqei's willpower to not pounce on the woman, especially as she said his name so breathlessly. Two streams of thought diverged on what they'd do to Rayelle though. One side just wanted to hold her close, check her over for injuries. The other wanted to tear her clothes off and feel her soft heat under him, as he plunged into her. He couldn't stop his low gurgling growl as it resonated in his chest.

Rayelle's eyes wheeled back to his face, watching how his mandibles flexed, opening and closing. The low snarl made something in her center dip. Not with fear or with disgust. Now, she was more than certain it was her companion. She took a wobbly stem toward him, fire extinguisher still gripped in hand. Her free hand rose, intending to touch his arm. "What's wrong?"

Rayelle froze in place as Tai'dqei snarled a singular word. "Run."

[desertslegacy]

what never belonged to angels

(continued from here) @fangedjustice

He was practically buzzing as she approached, and she understood that he had sensed her coming a mile off – or perhaps, rather, that he was so tightly wound that he could have noticed a pin drop from across the ballroom. A consequence of his alert nature, surely, of his background and the less-than-ideal circumstances they find themselves in, being so watched as though in an exhibit by their otherworldy captors.

(She wasn't naïve. She understood that the outstanding tension between them was surely to blame in part, and she dismissed the thought that perhaps this had been a bad idea. She steeled herself against the jitter in her own limbs as they moved from the close, stifling air of the ballroom to the crisp winter night.

The bandage must come off, the wound must not be allowed to fester in the darkness. Expose it to the light, assess the damage, heal.

She resisted the urge to rub at the scar tissue, pushed back the dizzy memory of that dark, fetid cabin, of the recovery she had gone through with the healers, the heady nights of fever as the last infectious traces of whatever horrid magicks had cast their pall on them seeped from her.)

Igrene flicked an assessing glance over him as they walked – thanks to all saints, his wounds seemed as well healed as hers, though she certainly couldn't account for whatever clawed inside his heart. She shivered at the memory of the echoing despair, gooseflesh in concert with the cold night air. He had certainly borne the brunt of that, hadn't he?

They didn't make small talk as they made their way from ballroom to the offered gardens - was it that neither were inclined to it, or was the weight of awkwardness so oppressive? It was hard to tell, and Igrene was ill used to it. She had never so restrained what was on her mind, had never had a use for such a level of toeing around the subject - but neither could she have been accused of being cruel, or of misunderstanding.

The garden was indeed lovely, though it had a vicious sort of charm to it. It was not what was expected, certainly, with large tropical pitcher plants, great leafy flower trees growing wild and overhanging the paths.

She had never seen anything like this in her life, she thought, but what she said was, "I did not expect you to have the habit of being so unforgiving, Sir Lloyd. Even if it is to yourself."

She did not turn to face him wholly - allowed him the grace to react while not under direct scrutiny - but from the corner of her eye she regarded his movements.

She continued, coming to stand in front of a frangipani tree larger than any tree she had ever seen, a hand reaching up to brush her fingers against the fragrant blooms, "We were warned, going into the forest, what to expect - that creatures were behaving irrational to their nature, and that there would be violence."

Here she did turn, and canted her head at him - her smile still did not curve her lips, but there was a glint in her eye that could have been a challenge, could have been a tease, could have been a smile. "I expect neither of us is stranger to violence, and I expect that is why neither of us balked at the assignment. I'm no babe, Sir Lloyd. My family has guarded the Nabata Desert for generations, and I am but the latest in a long line. Do you think you, as one man, to be greater than the desert herself?"

[tiffcore]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀emory tremaine!

twenty - four. highfalutin bastard. thief, cheat, all around con - man. loves it more than anything, but wants a hug sometimes, too.

a no good scoundrel who thinks he's got the entirety of sumeru under his thumb. while it couldn't be further from the truth, he does cause a hell of a lot of trouble in his own right. when things go missing around the akademiya, pilfered out of pockets and stolen from personal dorms and public areas alike.

emory runs with the treasure hunters, and they run with him. as acting captain of the whole sumerian division they often oblige his commands lest he kicks the shit out of them - being the only member of his division with a talent. perhaps the only treasure hunter with a talent ... he's definitely a little too big for his britches. got safe houses chock full of gold, a tendency to sink his teeth in the occasional traveler or two.

though a boy can dream. can dream of a sweet life with people that love him, truly. but if raucous, belligerent fighting is all the can get, then he might as well let it become him. what else could he do?

childhood?

As far as he's concerned the treasure hoarders are his actual family. But Emory himself? He's not from any place. He lives in Sumeru and his mom was from Mondstadt, just some traveler! She liked going from place to place and having no ties, skilled from her time on working alone and emboldened by the attitudes of Mondstadt, she se out to visit the seven nation of Teyvat.

She had an .. unfortunate encounter with the treasure hoarders one day. She didn't want a baby, so she gave him away. Gave him back to them - just to be a little soldier from birth. So all his mannerisms stem from the fact that he doesn't know how typical social structures work. He's used to hierarchy but you typically don't respect people unless they knock your teeth out- it's just a pyramid of power. Emory fought tooth and nail to get to the top! He wasn't a mischievous kid as opposed to wide eyed and the like. Afraid. Just did what he needed to to survive and eventually it started to come to him naturally - he becomes a person who does things for himself as opposed to supplementing others whims.

him?

emory is a mixed bag. on one hand, he has the potential to be appreciative, kind, funny - even considerate and thoughtful when surrounded by the right people. but most often he is not. most often he hears vile things, witnesses violent things, and reenacts that behavior most often, as it's simply what he's grown the most used to. emory is vulgar. is liable to say crass and inappropriate things at any given time. though he doesn't have a particular inclination to violence, like some of his more trigger happy friends. granted, his compliments do come from a place of sincerity - but his stinging insults do as well. he is confused when he observes that most other social structures don't operate on the same wave.

you're not supposed to physically hit your friends? you're not supposed to have your stuff stolen all the time - to the point where you hide nearly everything you own and hardly trust others with your things? that's absolutely insane. he kind of imagines it like a cruel fantasy. seeing people be happy with their friends, and gentle and sweet, it's almost like it's taunting him!

it irritates the fuck out of him. makes him sick even. but it also makes him yearn for something more ...

emory is 5'10 on a good day and is surprisingly handsome for a ruffian. it helps him get away with the more 'in your face' kind of schemes, but the more people know your face, the harder it gets to play that king of shit off. people tend to catch on quick once they mention the red hair ...

he's lean, strong shoulders and arms and toned thighs - though most of his intimidation factor is his talent, not his personal strength.

ships?

katya: a pretty little maid that doesn't give him the time of day. spent an evening with her once, and she was ... more than pleasant ❤ intrigued by her and kaveh's relationship (very jealous of kaveh.) and curious about what exactly she knows. katya owned by @sugarsouffle

otto: his first friend. a smart and beautiful woman who studies at the akademiya. trying to teach him the nuances of manner and courtesy while dealing with his prejudices as well! he appreciates otto, and at least tries not to get her into trouble.

otto owned by @leakiboi

[meleanatargaryen]

The prince's target

Aemond x Fem Reader Part 1 ⚔️ Ennemies to lovers maybe ?

Reader takes Lucerys’ place to trade with Lord Borris. And to be exclusive, the reader is adopted but has Targaryen blood. This is my first time writing long smut with dialogues and a story line... Sorry if this is terrible, I was a bit hesitant to post this.

TW: Sadistic/Dark!Aemond, Explicit: Noncon/Dubcon, hunting kink, knifeplay, forced breeding, manhandling. Violence: blood, abuse, bruises/scars, choking. Kidnapping & cursing. 

If you won’t give him your eye, he'll take something far more valuable.

Riding on your dragon, Melaryes, you already had trouble; storm's end was near, but the weather made the journey challenging. If the storm is any indication, the weather won't get any better, and you were hoping Borris would offer you a room to stay in. Your mother won't certainly mind if you arrive a little later than you should. 

The guards didn't appear in the slightest surprised by your arrival. As you land your feet on the ground, a roar that absolutely shakes you to your core can be heard. Upon turning, Vhagar was there and her sheer size made her seem bigger than the castle itself. The presence of Vhagar meant the presence of Aemond.

You were tempted to turn around and head back, but what would your mother and everyone else say ? If Jace and Luke had been here, they would have carried on and done as they were instructed. So you went in, the doors opened by the guards, and there you were, met with Lord Borris seated in his chair. 

When your eyes shifted to the side, you held your breath. A young lady, who you presumed to be Borris’s daughter, standing next to Aemond. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it as he turns to face you. He might have thought your mother would’ve sent one of your brothers instead. 

He gives a half-smirk as the guards inform Lord Borris of your titles. Aemond notices your natural inclination to reach for your sword and raises his brow, seemingly daring you to do so. But you don't, reluctantly putting your hands to the side.

Your eyes move away from him upon greeting Lord Borris, handing him the letter from your mother. When Lord Borris summons the maester, the latter takes his time. Your eyes returned to Aemond, who his hands behind his back, still having the same amused expression. 

The measter whispers to Lord Borris. “Remind me of my father’s oath?” The loudness of Borris’s voice causes you to flinch. He claims that the king at least came with an offer. What offer does yours bring? Your eyes nervously cast a quick glance at the three young ladies standing in line next to their father. It wasn't like you could offer yourself.

“My brothers aren’t free to marry, my lord,” and at that moment, he orders you to leave. That he’s not some dog for the queen. "I’ll give your answer to the queen, Lord Borris," you sternly address the lord, taking care to say it with disdain. 

When you turn to leave, the guards move to make a path for you. “Wait," you hear the voice that you’re all too familiar with. For a short second, you stand there, almost weighing your options. Still, you turn to the prince, mentally telling yourself to be brave. He can see your fear. They all can. 

He chastises, "Did you really believe I'd let you fly away trying to steal my brother's throne without cost." For the time being, you are unsure of where the courage came from as you moved a few steps forward.

 "My mother's throne," you correct him, narrowing your eyes at him with such contempt, "that was taken away by your drunken, perverted brother." The sight of his jaw clenching gives you a small sense of satisfaction, but you are also slightly sickened by your overwhelming fear. 

In an almost preemptive manner, he holds himself straight. You take it as something else, "I'm not here to fight you, I came here as a messenger." He chuckles and says, "A fight would be a little challenge," almost as if the idea of you fighting him was just comical. 

You’re startled when his hand reaches for the eyepatch and pulls it off, exposing a blue sapphire in the place where his eye once was. "No, I want you to put your eye.” 

As soon as he says "as a payment of mine." you take a step backward and look at Borris in fear, but he says nothing. He does nothing. Despite the shared concern, nobody in the hallway moves. 

He reaches under his surcoat and pulls out a blade, saying, "An eye will do," before hurling it at your feet. "Don't you think it's a privilege? "I'm giving you a choice, one that I wasn't given." His tone almost makes you wince.

You swallowed, working up the courage to say "no" as you looked down at the blade. It didn't come across as you had hoped it would; instead, it came off as much more hesitant and demure. 

He screams for you to give him your eye as a payment for what your brother had taken him, and all the resentment he has been suppressing all these years comes to the surface. 'Not in my hall !' Borris screams, finally stepping in, but why did it take so long

The guards direct you outside, and you run to Melaryes. When you look up and see Vhagar gone, your heart sinks. You can feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown, and Melaryes can sense your panic. She nudges you with her head and you rest your forehead against hers. Trying to calm her, but trying to calm yourself more.

With the wind and rain blowing in your face, you hardly see anything as you ride through the storm. More than anything, you are terrified that you can't seem to find Aemond. 

Looking up, you assumed your heart would drop the moment you see a figure three times the size of Melaryes. As he circles Vhagar around you, his laughter and taunts can be heard. Sometimes you also have to dodge the prince’s arm reaching out to you. 

You make an effort to remain calm. Melaryes can sense your panic and it will only serve to divert her. Through the confined passageways of the sea cliffs, you briefly managed to escape Vhagar's grasp. However, there was a too-large gap and Vhagar suddenly appeared. Melaryes backed away, trying to protect you and herself, causing her to slam her side against a cliff's edge.

As Melaryes screeches in pain, you nearly fell over, holding on so tightly that your palms were burning. As Melaryes slowly descends, you can feel her wings fluttering as she tries to force her way upward. You are no longer guiding her at this point while she makes her way to a small island. The moment she’s near the ground, she collapses. It caused you to stumble and land on the ground next to her, feeling a sharp pain in your hip.

You feel lightheaded as you reach for the side of your head and see blood on your fingers. The rain is still there, but not as intensely as it was before. Melaryes is hurt; badly. Seeming to have sacrificed all of her remaining strength to get you both to safety.

But after hearing Vhagar’s roar, was it truly safe ? The prince getting off his dragon should have made you fearful, but the sight of him and the state of Melaryes filled you with fury instead. 

"He ought to have taken your other eye!" You screamed across. It seemed the sword had been lost in flight, but you still had your dagger, removing it from its sheath, and lunging at the prince. But he grabs you by the wrist with little to no struggle. Your other hand tries to move, but Aemond is much quicker. 

In a desperate attempt, you raise your foot to kick him in the knee; it causes him to falter briefly, but it also makes you stumble back down, wincing from the pain in your ribs. 

As soon as he regains his composure, you’re struck across the face with the back of his hand. You start to lose your balance, your ribs aching more and more as you try to breathe and your mouth has a strong taste of copper.

In your almost blurry vision, you can make out the dagger that was dropped when the prince struck you. Trying to reach for it, only to scream in anguish when Aemond slams his boot on your hand; your knuckles aching. With your hand still under his sole, Aemond reaches down- taking the dagger in hand.

All of a sudden, you are on your back. Gasping when you feel a strong weight on your stomach. As you struggle to open your mouth to breathe, you are on the verge of screaming in agony, but the pain is so intense that you can only emit low shrieks of pain.

For a brief moment, you’ve come to your senses. And there you felt. You see it. A dagger inches away from your eye; your left eye. Out of instinct, you closed them. Wincing when feeling the tip touch the surface of your eyelid.

As you try to not let the fear gain your thoughts, "You-" trying to get the words out, "said it was a fair trade." Then a hand reaches for your throat. Struggling to breathe, desperately clawing at the hand, incoherent noises slipping from your lips.

"A fair trade?" He tightens the squeeze, baring his teeth as his face nears yours. "Your bastard brother made me a fucking cripple," he spits out. The panic on your face remains as your attempts to claw at his hand weakens.

Then he releases his grip, and you can finally gasp for air. Still, the dull rip-piercing pain persists. As you try to breathe properly, you can hear him speaking to you, but they sound so faint that they almost sound like murmurs.

"It's you she loves the most" he said, "her only girl and I'm gonna take that from her". Smirking he goes by, "This seems like a much more interesting trade darling. Doesn't it ?"

His hand reaches for your face, catching a glimpse of your attention. Instinctively, you try to shrink away, but his weight keeps you down. Your hair stood on end when feeling his gentle touch, tracing his finger from the edge of your mouth to the eye he had just threatened to gouge out. Finally, he speaks, “I won’t take your eye, but something far more valuable.”

Gazing at him with confusion and dread; pondering his implications. At the realization, a bullet of panic rises in your throat. The smirk on his face, the way his gaze slides down your body, and most of all, the glow of lust in his eye.

No, no, no; you kept telling him, pleading with him. He moves away, his weight leaving you. Then you're pushed to your stomach. His hand is holding the back of your head. No, you persisted. He wouldn't. You prayed he wouldn't. 

The rain eventually stops as the storm begins to dissipate with the rising moon. One may think it was a wonderful sight, a beautiful night oblivious to the horror that’ll occur. 

Your voice cracks, pleading with the one-eyed prince. Still, the prince tugs at your trousers, chuckling at the hearing of your pleas. "Virtue is all a lady possesses,” your septa said. 

By the time your trousers are fully down, exposing your lower body to the prince. His gloved hands caress your thighs, and you move them in response, causing him to grab hold of them. With his other hand, Aemond bites the glove off. 

His bare fingers touch your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds. His other hand, gloved, grabs your hip roughly, holding it in place. He chuckles when feeling your wetness. Humiliated, this time it's you lowering your head to the ground. Recoiling at the taste of dirt on your tongue.

Gasping in surprise when he pushes two fingers inside of you. You don’t want this. You kept reminding yourself. But your body betrays you as pleasure overtakes you, hating how your body nudges itself back, sinking further into his touch. Even as the ecstasy floods your entire body, the pain from his hold on your hip still pierces you. 

You're turned on your back, facing the prince now. Once more, you plead with him. Trying to push against his chest as he clamps your hips down and layers his body on top of you. But your efforts are feeble. You understand it's too late now but surprisedly you are not scared and your heart starts racing as well as your breath.

And then it happens. Exhaling painfully on instinct. His hard cock slides into you and you resent how almost easily it eases into you. Yet there is so much pain, hushed groans, and cries slipping out. And his unforgiving pace doesn’t give you the time to adjust to him.

He buries his face into your neck. "Fuck," he curses, "you're so tight, taking me in like the obedient convict I made you". Then you felt him bite into your shoulder; harshly. You were certain that the bite would cause bleeding. He leaves your hips, his hands reaching underneath your back. Bruises will be found later on. If you survive in the first place but you couldn't care less as he started to speak in hight valyrian, "Nyke jorrāelagon naejot gīmigon iksā ñuhon dārilaros". Your long nights learning with the prince taught you that it meant "I love to know you are mine princess". Your were really surprised as it did not ressemble him at all.

Anyway, you hadn't the time to think much about it as his hips suddenly meet yours, almost in an apparent attempt to bury his cock as deep inside of you as he can. As much as you try to resist him, you still tighten around him and he groans in return. “You are mine to torment for eternity from this precise moment" you say nothing, only tightening your fists just for them to sink into his back as the delicious pain of his presence inside you becomes no longer bearable.

Then, as his hair feathered your face and his lips inches away from yours, he removes his eye patch. You quickly turn your head to the side, refusing to stare, only to quickly come to figure out the sapphire blue reflection of the full moon running on your skin as he stares to your helpless body.

A hand grasps your neck, forcing you to look at him, to look at the sapphire. And your gaze must remain fixed on him as he feels himself move deeper with each stroke. He's reminding you; you figure. That everything that led to this moment was caused by you and you alone. 

You can also see how much he enjoys the sight of your strained face and watery eyes. The way your wet hair sticks to your forehead. The way your neck and shoulders have scratches and marks all over. The way you're in pain. The way you're helpless. The way he ruined you but mostly the way you secretly enjoyed it.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 35

💖first time reader click here💖

Reader and Eddie going on their mission. They're all morons, okay? Some canon-typical violence, bad guys being bad guys. You guys can see that I treat the fighting plot points as total crack, right?

Eddie Brock was pissed, at the Avengers mostly - for not telling him of my accident - but also at me, for the fact that I didn't call him sooner. Venom had taken over at some point, eager to participate in my plan - and it I was being honest, my uncle's space boo was the one I had relied on to participate in the mayhem that was to be caused to finally let my family breathe in peace.

The Avengers wore various expressions of guilt when an angry Eddie stormed the tower, berating them for not getting into contact with him when I was in danger. Venom growled at them, too, just the right amount of teeth and drool for Tony to quickly usher me out to 'take a walk, have some fun, build a snowman' with uncle Eddie and Venom. It was almost too easy, too predictable. The guilt that reared it's ugly head was stomped down by me and two glasses of whiskey in Eddie's rented Airbnb as I went into the fine details of my plan.

Both I and Eddie were equally surprised when Venom dropped their sarcastic, angsty teenager attitude and approached the topic with maturity, giving valuable input. The goth space goo was much, much smarter than their first impressions showed. I belatedly remembered their remark about being an apex predator species... Scary.

The plan was pretty simple.

Eddie was a professional investigative reporter and an unregistered mutant, his files being hidden so deeply due to the alien nature of the symbiote that it was unlikely that underground gangs would have any idea as to who he truly was. His involvement with SHIELD was buried under so much red tape, even Coulson himself had very little idea about Eddie's body-mate.

My uncle would sniff around the mutant underworld, just enough to catch a whiff of the mercenary's whereabouts. It should be enough if he was as famous as Natasha claimed him to be. And if it wasn't enough... I'd be bait. I doubt that the merc knew the box has been retrieved and secured; every now and then, I still caught chatter about the SHIELD agents trailing me catching a person sent to monitor me. They weren't even trying to hide that hard.

I had my suspicions SHIELD was indirectly using me as bait, too, and both Eddie and Venom were inclined to agree with the notion. Over beers and ridiculous amount of chocolate cake, a third side of the operation Baby Thief had been formed. SHIELD played their own game, the Avengers and SI threw a ridiculous amount of resources on their own and then there was me and Eddie, two halves of a whole idiot.

For once, the plan didn't go south immediately off the bat. Eddie and Venom got the information - there was a lot of uproar in the mutant community, rumours about an artifact that would let them assume their rightful place in the world, pushing the pesky humans off their pedestal. I definitely supported mutant rights - but the common notion that violence was necessary to achieve the recognition of said rights didn't sit well with me at all. Eddie agreed with me, his own curiousity pushing him to dig deeper into the situation.

My uncle could be a brilliant investigative reporter with the proper motivation and his significant other at the side. I could never tire of Venom's stories: each and every time they saved Eddie from making a clown out of himself was remembered, documented and brought up at the quickest available opportunity. I haven't laughed so hard in months.

The positives of our plan? We got a hot trail and enough information to know about the mercenary's whereabouts. We possessed the manpower needed to off him in record time, Venom eagerly offering his digestive system for our convenience.

The negatives? We'd need to bring me. Apparently there was a hefty bounty on my pretty little head and the merc himself had given up trying to chase me, hiring a bunch of muscle to do the legwork for him instead. The mercenary, a man who went by the nickname Cadre, was an ex-shield agent, who knew enough to successfully avoid the organisation following hot on his heels.

And neither SHIELD, nor Tony nor Eddie knew who had ordered the retrieval of the artifact. The mysterious person had deep pockets: all of the men were supplied with high grade weaponry and the mutants participating in the missions had equipment specifically tailored to their powers.

Perhaps, I wasn't as clever as I wanted myself to be. There was something big and ugly brewing and the bounty on my head was just the tip of the iceberg. But what was done, was done, and Venom was looking forward to a hefty meal and we set the date of Eddie "kidnapping" me in a few days time.

I hoped I'd make it home for Christmas.

The biggest surprise was that nobody suspected anything. Not even Natasha's watchful eye and inherent knowledge of shit about to be stirred - somehow, Nat always just knew those things - had revealed itself and that's how I knew it was absolutely necessary for me to be successful. There was no room for failure. In the day before my planned trip to Cadre's lair, I forced the team into a movie night and took extra time with everybody, seeing as even the most cheerful people - Thor and Wanda - walked around with sullen faces for most of the time. Perhaps, deep down, I knew that chances of my plan going awry were pretty damn high.

It felt like I was leaving for war. And perhaps, I was. The nervous, anxious energy increased as the hour X drew closer and I couldn't hide it anymore. My insomnia wore Tony's face: I could see his disappointment as clear as day, but I figured he'd forgive me for the betrayal eventually. Every single thing I hid from my newfound family made me feel a traitor. Unfortunately, there was simply no other option.

That afternoon, Eddie picked me up from the tower and drove me to one of the hideouts that belonged to Cabre. He'd tied my hands together and blindfolded me, all for show of course, whilst Venom briefly connected with my body to induce a drowsy state of mind. I didn't actually mind to be drugged and was way more wary of the symbiote's effects on my body but the space pudding extended his tentacles so quickly, I barely had the time to even swear at them.

To my (and their) surprise, it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. In my hazy state, I briefly head Venom growl that I could be a decent short-term host if something would to happen with Eddie; I did not know how that information made me feel but did not disregard it completely. I was out of my depth on this one yet marched on towards the danger with grim determination.

"Here's the girl," Eddie's voice penetrated through the curtain of chemicals that Venom had dosed me with; I was tossed none too gently on what felt like a mattress, the landing haphazard but not painful. Venom must've dulled my pain receptors, too. "Where's our money?"

I was unceremoniously groped, my face examined by a man with ice-cold hands. Whatever he found, he deemed it satisfactory. "I'm impressed," He whistled. "We've been trying to get her for months. Care to share how you achieved this?" The strange man sounded suspicious.

"WE HAVE OUR OWN TRICKS," Venom's deep voice filled out the room like thick smoke and I just knew that the man who had been groping me was twitching in discomfort. "SO?"

"Alright, alright," The man mumbled, voice unsteady. My drowsiness slowly began to recede and I finally could focus my eyes somewhat; Eddie was partially obscured by the writhing, onyx mass of his symbiote and the man was dialing up the phone, speaking in a rapid-fire dialect I did not know. "Cabre will be here in an hour. Care for a beer?" Just like that, the man was obviously attempting to placate Eddie.

"HOT CHOCOLATE," Venom announced flatly and I had to struggle to hold back my laughter at the image of a seven feet tall tentacle monster sipping hot cocoa from a tiny porcelain cup. My nerves had me feeling ten types of way, as usual, and props to Ven making me unable to speak. I would have already killed myself by running my mouth ten times over.

The hour passed by with me floating in my mindsphere, Eddie loudly playing Candy Crush on his phone and Venom consuming ridiculous amounts of hot chocolate. It was absurd and the eerie calm was beginning to make me suspicious; I had expected... More. Threatening thugs with guns, experiments, blood tests and physical violence. Instead, the man who met with Eddie was sitting with a vacant, bored expression as he practiced card tricks in the corner furthest away from Venom.

Finally, a knock on the door forced all of us to pay attention to the newcomer. It was a tall, massively built man in his early forties. His face was covered in scars, narrow red lines that looked like small cuts; one of his eyes was completely black while the other was blue. He looked like the man at the coffee shop but at the same time, nothing like him at all.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," His voice was low and quiet. If not for the heavyweight weapon hanging over his shoulder, I would have considered him to be one of those men who only look threatening but actually are gentle giants. With steps too quiet for a man his size, he approached me, crouching down to look me in the face. "Hello, child. I've been looking for you for a long time. It's a shame we had to meet this way," He removed the strands of hair sticking to my face. For all purposes, his touch could have been considered fatherly. "Richard, bring the money." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man who was babysitting me and Eddie and he promptly disappeared behind the steel door.

"Hello," Eddie briefly shook his hands with Cabre after the merc left me alone. I noted Venom had disappeared into the reporter's body completely. "We are Venom," Eddie introduced himself (they introduced themselves?).

"Cabre," The Merc watched my honorary uncle with a sharp eye, taking note of Eddie's lack of weapons, his worn clothes and the shaggy hair, the bags under his eyes. "Tell me, Venom, what do you know of this child?"

"Not much," Eddie shrugged, convincingly. "Just that the Avengers picked her up for some reason and locked her up in Stark's tower. We're guessing she didn't like it much 'cuz she kept sneaking out and trying to shake off the tail. Had to go through quite a few SHIELD agents to get to her," Just like we agreed, Eddie spoke with slight disdain towards Tony and SHIELD, making sure to let Cabre believe he was on the mutants' side. "We just need the money, man. Not many people will hire us," To top it up, Eddie spread his arms, showing his skin ripple and move on it's own prominently under his ratty t-shirt. Atta boy!

Cabre appeared to have bought the lie, chuffing sympathetically, before pulling out a tablet and typing on it. "Well, not for long. My superiors have found an artifact that, if unlocked properly, will render most of the technology suppressing mutant powers useless. They won't be able to get rid of us that easily anymore."

Eddie nodded eagerly, for all purposes appearing to be ecstatic about the news. "Yeah, heard some rumors here and there. Well, you and your superiors know where to find me. I could always go with some extra cash," He scratched his head, carefully watching Cabre's fingers dance on the keyboard. "What's the kid got to do with it anyway? Seems like an ordinary spoiled brat to me," Eddie threw me a look, blinking twice. The fatigue and wariness, courtesy of Venom, had begun to recede quite some time ago; with Eddie's signal, I knew the shitshow was about to start very soon.

Eddie was smart, however, finding out the bits of information SHIELD hadn't bothered to disclose to me. The residue that the cursed box had left in me was removed, so I could not understand why SHIELD was still guarding me. There had to have been another reason, a reason that neither of us knew for sure.

Cabre paused his typing. "We've been watching her for years. She's a genius. We were hoping she could help us solve a few problems..." The merc paused to rub the bridge of his nose. "We tried to get her to come willingly but her parents forbade her from it. My superiors suggested to use the artifact but something malfunctioned." For all purposes, Cabre was looking apologetic. "I am not overly fond of kidnapping children but some things just need to be done." With that, the man turned around, landing his eyes on me. "Glad to see you're up and about." Something about his smile was unnatural, forced, malicious.

"Charmed to meet you," I sat up, dazed and confused about the turn of events. The things he was saying, they didn't add up. I hadn't received any requests for my participation in ANY kind of project, illlegal or not. No scholarships, no internship offers. Something was very, very wrong.

As soon as Cabre's back was turned, Venom enveloped Eddie, turning themselves into the seven feet tall outer space monstrosity I had seen on the first day. Their combined form was terrifying - but Cabre's fingers merely twitched at the rapid change of the situation as he took slow steps towards me. "Hmm," His voice still quiet, he once again crouched in front of me. "You fought us off once but we are many. There is nowhere to run, child," Cabre's eyes began to darken, his speech turning flat.

I recognized the speech pattern, recalled the expressionless, vacant face that stared at me. Cabre was infected with the Legion from the cursed box; I hadn't prepared for that, hadn't even regarded that, thinking the little epic speech the demon had given me was a mere intimidation tactic. Fear bloomed within me, opening it's jaws like a hungry Venus flytrap but I refused to succumb to it, clenching my fists against the waves of paralyzing terror.

Venom made a confused growling noise behind me, extending a tentacle to push Cabre away; with a sickeningly wet splat, their whole form collided with the opposite wall, sliding down it like a puddle of misshapen goop. "MORSEL, GET OUT." The symbiote growled, reforming itself back.

"Silence, beast!" Cabre shrieked, unstrapping his weapon and aiming it at Venom. No bullets came out as he pressed the trigger but my ear started ringing, eyes watering as the whole form of the symbiote began to morph and ripple. Pained groans and whines came from them. A sonic gun?

"Screw you, man," I attempted to draw Cabre's attention to myself by kicking out a leg towards the gun, disrupting his arm briefly. Things were going to shit faster than a party full of teenagers and alcohol. "Fuck you, listen, FUCK YOU!" I knew antagonizing people was my best skill and that's what I did, figuring the time needed for Venom to reassemble themself could be acquired if Cabre was pissed off enough at me.

The backhand hurt, not going to lie. I saw stars from that one sloppy hit the possessed merc delivered to my face. The adrenaline rush allowed me to stay somewhat coherent and just like that time when I was trapped in my nightmares, I dove for Cabre, winding myself around him as both of us landed on the floor in a heap of limbs.

Despite my best hopes, Venom remained a puddle of black on the floor. I saw something shiny attach itself to Eddie's chest; apparently that something prevented them from combining into one again. My smaller size proved to be a great advantage; I remembered Venom's words about being a suitable short-term host and with a shriek, I placed my palm into the nearest piece of symbiote I could reach, my vision being obscured by blackness a second later.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Author's note starts

I just had a thought that started with "I wish I could write Superman going to Batman for a hug." And then I was like "wait a minute, I can write whatever I want!" So here's superman going to batman for a hug.

Author's note ends

The cafeteria was pretty packed when Clark trudged in. It had been a long night, and for most of the team members, it showed.

The worst part had to be that there wasn't anything to fight.

There was no enemy, nothing sentient to talk to or attack. Just... wind. Just dust. Just water. Just the things that could create and destroy in equal measure.

Apparently Mother Earth woke up and chose violence today. And yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And-.

"You're spiraling." A familiar voice reached his ears. Bruce sounded as tired as he did, for different reasons. Gotham hadn't been hit by the elements any harder than usual, but Gotham's usual involved feet of snow and blustering winds that would freeze even the hardiest of dogs solid, let alone a person. So Batman was dealing with his own problems. And Clark wouldn't be surprised if Bruce Waybe had a completely different set of those to cap it all off.

Clark doesn't envy any of the Bats.

But he doesn't envy himself either.

"Still spiraling." Bruce noted, mildly amused.

Clark groaned and leaned forward so that his head met Bruce's shoulder with an extremely soft thump.

"Bad day?"

Clark hummed once to answer affirmatively.

"Same. Want some hot chocolate?"

Clark hummed again and Bruce snorted.

"If you want hot chocolate, you have to get up so one of us can get it."

Clark knew that voice. He'd seen it used on multiple children trained (and partially reared) by the Bat. He did not like that voice being turned on him.

"Not a kid." Clark grumbled.

"You don't have to be. Just know that I will dump you on the floor and goabout my day."

"Cruel and unusual punishment." Clark objected in a lo3, exhausted breath.

"And yet..." Bruce trailed off playfully.

A few moments passed before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that today."

"I think..." Clark trailed off. "I think the worst part is, there's nothing to stop in case like this. We go out and fight supervillains who are determined to fuck up someone's day, but a change in the wind can do the same amount of damage and I'd get maybe twice the amount of property damage and half the people out of there. What's the point of having all these powers if they can't fight the forces of nature too?"

"You know better than anyone what the true purpose of your powers are, Clark Kent. But I doubt that even a god could stop the wind rising if they were so inclined. Another would take their place."

"I figured. But damn, is it frustrating."

"Ain't it just." Bruce scoffed in a weak imitation of Clark's thickening accent. "Now, there's more snow in Gotham than I know what to do with. Feel like putting that heat vision to use?"

"X-ray might be better for search and rescue." Clark mumbled absently.

"You're the one with the powers. But first, hot chocolate. Stewart knows how to make it almost as good as Alfred and the kids would never forgive me if I didn't bring some back."

"So the heat vision is good for something." Clark snickered quietly.

The two men straightened up and got to their feet.

[cursedfortune]

Zamasu's dripping fingers hover over her, outstretched and completely eclipsing any light the cloud baked sky had drizzled from above. "I don't see a splinter but I feel it."

@itneedsbutone

An involuntary flinch jolted her body which only led to a momentary displeasure being displayed on her face. It was frustrating how he could provoke an immediate fight or flight response with the simplest movement of his hand nearing her. Of course she wasn't foolish, she knew why her body moved despite her soul being unyielding within. She lost count of the days they spent tormenting one another. Of her driving him mad with words and him torturing her ever healing body.

Still, she bristled beneath his outstretched limb in silence for a long moment - collecting herself before focusing upon what the god had said to her.

A splinter? She could see how it could find its way into his ever decaying hand. One that dripped malformed flesh directly upon her. He's lucky she is a witch of entropy, used to death and all its stages - or else it's likely she'd be retching upon his boots this very moment. Instead the witch doesn't bat an eye to Zamasu's excess, only wipes away whatever pieces land upon her face.

"You better be nice to me the rest of the day, at least." Mortem murmured as she reached up and took his hand, lowering it just below her eye level. Funny how gently she holds this limb of his, one that has crushed her skull and shattered her bones numerous times. Old habits die hard, her mother would say - she understood that better than she once used to when the two of them have moments like this. Something more mundane it was almost pleasant compared to their usual war dance. When her natural inclination to be gentle just happened even with someone like him. To think she'd live in a universe where the only form of touch she'd engaged in with another would consist of either violence or aiding his body that was partially a corpse. At least he had moments of awareness, it was his brief clarity that allowed her to not sincerely antagonize him. What a fucked up pair they are.

Well he's right, there's nothing to see upon the surface even with his morphing flesh. Guess it's time to dig deeper then, no? There's a tug at the corner of her mouth as her lips quirked into a smirk, giving Zamasu no warning as her hands easily sank into his oozing flesh in search of the problem. Her entropy parting the meat easily, seeking to cause as little disturbance as she could and yet completely thriving off what was likely uncomfortable - both in sensation and visually to witness.

"Bet you never thought we'd get intimate like this, hm? Holding hands." Mortem's lips pressed together, as if to suppress her own amusement as she teased him. It would not last, with a little pop of her lips a grin broke out, just in time for her fingers to curl around the offending object.

Pulling her hands from his she revealed the broken rebar, covered in purple tinted flesh (much like her lower arms). With a toss she sent the piece flying, where it landed with a clang upon a nearby pile of rubble within this broken city. One in ruins because if him.

Yet here they were, two near-immortals behaving themselves for once. This was a good look for him compared to the usual rage and glee he got from tormenting her. At least she wasn't the splinter this time. Problem solved, right? He'll hopefully be lacking homicidal urges until tomorrow. She doesn't care if he sticks around or goes so long as he isn't making a mess out of her.

Speaking of... Wiping off her arms the witch lifted her gaze to his, "Now that I've finished inside you I'm going to go clean myself up. Bye!" Mortem flicked some of the purple flesh at him before she turned to saunter off to the nearest clean water source.

At least she wasn't being mean even if she had purposely spoken such sin to him directly.

[arisefairsun]

My English teacher left me very confused when learning about Romeo and Juliet. He said that it wasn't a love story because they didn't love each other; Juliet just basically used Romeo, but I don't know what to think. Can you please explain to me if it's a love story, tragedy, or both?

Did your teacher say that Juliet used Romeo? How rude.

The first thing we have to remember is that the feud is the exponent of an unhealthy ideology that promotes violence, hatred, prejudice, and brutal misogyny. Don’t ever forget the world they lived in. Romeo and Juliet are not normal teenagers living in a normal world and making stupid decisions. They are children whose mental health ends up destroyed by the ideals of their families. I just won’t stand anyone who refers to them as ‘dumb’ because it’s a very insulting way of dismissing the destructiveness of social oppression and abuse. It’s so evident that their families caused their deaths that at the end of the play nobody has the guts to blame them for their own deaths and dismiss their emotions as shallow or dishonest. What they have done is too monstrous for them to deny. When both patriarchs find the young lovers dead together in the crypt they see the wrong in their actions and take responsibility for it. They know they killed their children. It was not teenage folly that ruined Romeo and Juliet. It was a sick society that glorified violence and prejudice.

Perhaps your male teacher is annoyed by the fact that Juliet hardly fits in the role of a sixteenth-century obedient wife who goes along with whatever her husband has to say. On the contrary, Juliet has a voice of her own. It is evident from the first conversation between the lovers that she has a very particular, specific way of thinking, and which doesn’t necessarily match that of Romeo. For instance, she gently mocks his stereotyped courtship when she says “you kiss by the book.” I would say she is a far better poet than him—he actually learns from her. Think about the way she corrects him when he tries to swear his love by the moon. She literally rationalizes everything. Romeo needs to get on her level. Later on, he will ask her to “sweeten with thy breath / This neighbour air, and let rich music’s tongue / Unfold the imagined happiness that both / Receive in either by this dear encounter,” to which Juliet answers that “conceit, more rich in matter than in words, / Brags of his substance, not of ornament”. You see, she doesn’t always agree with him, and she presents her own points of view resolutely. She is the one to give lessons.

Moreover, she is capable of turning against Romeo. Look at her reaction to Tybalt’s death:

O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical!Dove-feather’d raven! Wolvish-ravening lamb!Despised substance of divinest show!Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,A damned saint, an honourable villain!O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiendIn moral paradise of such sweet flesh?Was ever book containing such vile matterSo fairly bound? O that deceit should dwellIn such a gorgeous palace!

She only truly decides to stand up for him when she decides that it was most likely Tybalt who started the fight. So she has a very clear perception of judgment that she uses all the time, even when it doesn’t benefit Romeo. He recognizes her independence and doesn’t expect her to behave in a way she doesn’t agree with just because it would do him good. When he is banished, he anxiously asks about her well-being, aware that he may have lost her sympathy for good:

Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her?Doth she not think me an old murderer,Now I have stain’d the childhood of our joyWith blood removed but little from her own?Where is she? And how doth she? And what saysMy conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love?

Juliet is a really complex character who doesn’t need to adopt anyone’s posture because she has thoughts and ideas of her own. She has personality. Look at her words. Her courage is limitless:

O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,From off the battlements of yonder tower;Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurkWhere serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,O'er-cover’d quite with dead men’s rattling bones,With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;Or bid me go into a new-made graveAnd hide me with a dead man in his shroud.

She doesn’t mind breaking any rules that may prevent her from getting what she wants. And she breaks them simply because she wants to. For instance, living in a world where names, honor, and dynasty do indeed determine people’s lives, she claims that what makes Romeo valuable has nothing to do with his surname. “What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, / Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part / Belonging to a man.” Tell her that her Romeo is not free from social constructs. She’ll fight you. And where does she get all these ideas from? She gets them from herself.There’s this delicious youth about her, this restless euphoria, this passionate determination, this unstoppable fierceness, this need to experience life freely. Juliet is too alive to stay quietly in the shadows. She has fallen in love with liberty so deeply that once her only chance to achieve freedom dies, she inevitably, tragically, dies as well. In my opinion, she is the most intelligent character in the play. She has some of the deepest and most revolutionary speeches. She makes what is to me the hardest and scariest decision when she drinks the friar’s potion. She is the sun. She is life itself. Romeo knows and admires this. In his dreams, Juliet brings him back to life because “she breathed such life with kisses in my lips.” Her love is stronger than all the hate living in Verona: “Look thou but sweet, / And I am proof against their enmity.” To him, she is a powerful light forcing her way through the window, overcoming the restrictions of the physical space, and thus freely expanding herself through the sky without restraint: “What light through yonder window breaks? / It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

However, the patriarchal structure of her society inevitably thwarts her liveliness. She must restrain herself. Look at the way she refers to her house: “Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud.” She feels like a prisoner who must stay silent. But if she were free, things would be quite different: “Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies / And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine / With repetition of “my Romeo!” Now compare that with her attitude in the first act, before she met Romeo. She had assured her mother that she would “look to like, if looking liking move. / But no more deep will I endart mine eye / Than your constent gives strength to make it fly.” She is trapped in the role of the submissive daughter who allows her parents to command her life. She didn’t dare contradict her mother the way she does with Romeo later on. So while she must show obedience to her parents, she can let out her real self in Romeo’s company. He is interested in listening to her and taking into account whatever she has to say. She finds a friend in him, as she once says, and she begins to free herself from the constraints of her society. Romeo is her chance to achieve a more exciting life. But even as she imagines him as a little bird that she can cherish, she stresses her lack of freedom as opposed to his ability to fly. She is “loving-jealous of his liberty.” In the “balcony” scene (though there really isn’t any balcony), she is locked in her window. But look at the stage direction from 2.6, which is when they get married:

Enter Juliet somewhat fast and embraces Romeo.

She comes in running and immediately hugs Romeo because she is finally free to move. So after gaining some agency through their love, she is not ready to let the friar “dispose” of her “among a sisterhood of holy nuns” in the last scene. I’m inclined to read the play as the lovers’ attempt to assert themselves in a society that doesn’t care about them. They try to build new, private identities that do not match their public roles. I will not say they used each other because of the negative connotations of the word, but I will definitely say that they took advantage of their relationship to explore their real selves and figure out what they really wanted to be, and not what their relatives wanted.

I can’t see how anyone could claim that Juliet used him when she is so tenderly in love. In the balcony scene she feels like she will have to wait for “twenty years” to receive Romeo’s news when she’s actually going to send the Nurse for him at nine o’clock in the morning. When she realizes the night is nearly over, she lets him go, but “no further than a wanton’s bird.” She literally fears she would kill him “with much cherishing” because she has too much love to give. She actually feels like her affection is endless: “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, / My love as deep; the more I give to thee / The more I have, for both are infinite.” It makes her feel so rich she “cannot sum up sum of half” her wealth. She complains that “love’s heralds should be thoughts / Which ten times faster glide than the sun’s beams.” She wishes her thoughts and Romeo’s could communicate instantly because the Nurse fails at being “as swift in motion as a ball.” (Notice how she is talking about thoughts here. There’s a lot more than physical desire going on between Romeo and Juliet.) She is so happy to be with him that she pretends it was the nightingale singing. And then there’s the kind of metaphors she creates for him. They are tender and loving. The Nurse says she has been making puns out of the similarities between Romeo’s name and ‘rosemary’. Can you get any more ridiculously sentimental than that? He is her “sweet”, the “god of my idolatry”. She thinks that “every tongue that speaks / But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence” because he is literally perfect: “So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called / Retain that dear perfection which he owes / Without that title.”

I would also like to stress that she is very protective of him. Romeo is a scared child who needs as much help as her. She does her best to free him from the constraints of their world. Picking up again the pilgrim/saint motif from their first conversation, Romeo asks Juliet to “call me but love and I’ll be new baptized.” From that moment on there will be two Romeos: Montague’s heir and her Romeo. Look at this dialogue between the Nurse and Juliet:

Nurse: Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?Juliet: Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?

She knows Romeo’s real, private identity depends on her. If she leaves his side, her Romeo will fade away and the feud will take over his existence. What makes her drink the friar’s potion, after having expressed all her fears, is the thought of Tybalt’s ghost haunting Romeo. She is afraid that Tybalt, who is one of the major exponents of toxic masculinity, violence, and rage, will destroy Romeo if she doesn’t prevent it.

O, look! Methinks I see my cousin’s ghostSeeking out Romeo, that did spit his bodyUpon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay!Romeo, I come! This do I drink to thee.

Her fierce protectiveness is present all along. “I would not for the world they saw thee here,” she’d do anything to prevent her family from hurting him. She stands up for him when the Nurse criticizes him: “He was not born to shame. / Upon his brow shamed is ashamed to sit, / For ‘tis a throne where honour may be crown’d / Sole monarch of the universal earth.” I can’t imagine anything she wouldn’t do to keep Romeo safe and loved: “Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; / And I will do it without fear or doubt, / To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love.”When her mother confesses her plans to poison him, Juliet wittingly offers to prepare the venom herself, making her mother believe that she wants to kill him when she is actually saving his life:

Madam, if you could find out but a manTo bear a poison, I would temper it;That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,Soon sleep in quiet. 

And then they subvert a lot of patriarchal norms: It’s Romeo who rejects his name, though he never asks the same from her. They consummate their marriage in Juliet’s bed (I read some critic say that Juliet brings Romeo to her “sexual territory” lmao) and finally, Romeo kills himself in the crypt of her wife’s family rather than in that of his own father. I think this is perfectly conveyed in the last dialogue of the play:

Montague: For I will raise her statue in pure gold;That while Verona by that name is known,There shall no figure at such rate be setAs that of true and faithful Juliet.Capulet:  As rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie;Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

Juliet is the center of their conversation. While she will be raised in pure gold and everyone will praise her, Romeo’s merit seems to be that he will lie by her side. Shakespeare acknowledges the importance of Juliet’s character again by ending the play with the words “Juliet and her Romeo.” Which doesn’t mean that Romeo is a fool that agrees with everything that Juliet says. He sometimes disagrees with her. (Remember, for example, when Juliet wanted to take it slow in the balcony scene. He answers, “O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”. More on that here. Another interesting part is when he agrees to stay with her after the nightingale vs. lark debate, though he still doesn’t believe that she is right. He knows what Juliet is asking for is wrong: “Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so”). I would actually say they’re equals. In fact, they are introduced as “a pair of star-crossed lovers” who “take their life”, not lives, as if to emphasize their alliance and their oneness. Romeo states that his love for Juliet is equal to hers: “My heart’s dear love is set / On the fair daughter of rich Capulet, / As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, / And all combined, save what thou must combine / By holy marriage.” To him, true love consists of a mutual exchange of affection: “Her I love now / Doth grace for grace and love for love allow.” The chorus claims that Juliet is “as much in love, her means less,” which leads me to believe that the play presents the lovers as internally equal and socially unequal, as this post explains here. Lastly, their parents promise to build equal monuments for both of them. Romeo’s statue will be “as rich” as Juliet’s. It is as if after all the wrong they did, they are finally ready to honor them justly.

I think that while Juliet suffers because of her lack of agency, Romeo suffers because socially speaking he has too much agency (and he will have even more once he inherits his father’s possessions). He basically couldn’t care less about his responsibilities as Montague’s heir. Look at his attitude in the first scene:

O me! What fray was here?Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

The heir of the Montague house doesn’t even want to know what happened. Later on he will attempt to kill himself in order to get rid of his name: “O, tell me, friar, tell me, / In what vile part of this anatomy / Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack / The hateful mansion.” On the contrary, Juliet’s perception of the world revitalizes him as she believes that his real identity doesn’t depend on his name. So of course he will describe her as “a rich jewel” hanging in “the cheek of night”, of course he thinks she would “shame those stars / As daylight doth a lamp” if she were in the sky. Of course Juliet is capable of bringing him back to life in his dreams. He clings to her in the same way she clings to him because she instroduces him to a purer side of life. She becomes his home: “And I’ll still stay to have thee still forget, / Forgetting any other home but this.” It’s the pleasure of talking to her that he loves: “How is’t, my soul? Let’s talk; it is not day.” They transcend the restraints of their society with the freedom of their love. Look at Romeo’s words:

With love’s light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;For stony limits cannot hold love out,And what love can do that dares love attempt;Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

(I think that passage is quite relevant nowadays, since prejudice and hate are inspiring people to build walls and ban innocent souls from coming in. Romeo might be overly sentimental, but the thing is he just wants to get rid of the hate that’s been imposed on him and turn it into love. And that’s not silly or ‘dumb’. Not when you live in a world where hate is accepted and love is seen as a shameful feeling. Romeo refuses to be stopped by those who want to harm him out of hate.)

It’s not that kind of love story where the characters get their happy ending after overcoming some obstacles. We know Romeo and Juliet are sentenced to die from the first lines of the play. The prologue tells us we are going to sit there for two hours to watch them fall. We don’t know how it’s going to happen, but we know it will somehow. And I think part of the point is this: People can’t be happy if their society doesn’t support them. They can’t be free if they are forced into violence, in Romeo’s case, and passivity, in Juliet’s case. It’s the story of two children who try their hardest to become what they want to be, and they do so with each other’s help. But they fail because they are left alone. They die because they cannot live without each other. They cannot live without each other because nobody else can help them. Nobody else can help them because their society is sick. It’s a love story that exposes the problems of a toxic environment.

As for the genre, it’s something that has been up for debate for centuries. Some say it’s a tragedy. Some say it shares some characteristics common of comedies. Indeed, you could argue that the play follows the pattern of a comedy up until Mercutio’s death. It really depends on how you want to look at it. Romeo and Juliet die, but the feud dies as well. Capulet and Montague assure that there will be no more hate in Verona. So you could say that Friar Laurence’s wishes are fulfilled. The lovers, the “poor sacrifices”, turn their households’ rancor “to pure love.” Love wins. They fix their world. There will be no more violence. But the ending is evidently still tragic as the young lovers lose their lives. I would say it’s both a pessimistic and optimistic story at the same time.

This post is getting too long, but I could go on. Come back to the ask box if you have any question!