#arbitrary darkness AU

[cannedcrow]

Scar design for Arbitrary Darkness! He’s a bad man with a master plan

Here's Part VI to go along with it!

Rb and I’ll post scitties

[stabknives]

Speaking of skyrim. It's time for another bad post. Anyway. Not really an au with any thought put behind it but lmao. Lol even. Vykrum as the Night Mother from elder scrolls and Gort as the worlds most annoying Listener. Also he fucks the body sometimes--

[ambros1an]

Hsr characters in a Soulmate au

warnings: sunday backstory, implied Gopher Wood being a bad father (Sunday), implied stellaron hunter Sunday, discrimination (aventurine, not said by reader), debt (aventurine), firefly backstory, 2.0-2.2 penacony spoilers

characters: Sunday, Aventurine, Firefly

a/n: it's so obvious who's my #1 fav in this

Sunday: writing

Throughout the world, everyone had the ability to communicate to their soulmates through writing on their own skin.

Sunday doesn't remember much about his childhood. His home-world was entrenched in war. The only constant in his life was his own sister, and the strange symbols on his wrists.

After being taken in by Gopher Wood, he would be taught that those symbols were words, and they came from his Soulmate. Excitedly, he'd take to the books to communicate with the person on the other end. At first it was little doodles, then broken sentences, and then full on conversations.

He wrote about his sister, the charmony dove, music and literature. One day, the writing stopped. You'd jot down messages in concern, so worried to the point your hand writing looked like illegible scribbles. He never did tell you his name after all.

After years, finally you got a response.

'Meet me at Dreamflux Reef, here, at 8 pm.' You couldn't help but notice that your soulmate's penmanship had improved after all these years. The once poor excuse for cursive wasn't just printed letters attached to one another, but font-like in it's neatness with broad loops. Despite the brief words written on your skin, your stomach rolled. Was it nerves or excitement?

There was a little hand-drawn map, taking up a portion of your forearm, with an 'X' on the location. You approached the streetlight ahead of you. It was five minutes before 8 pm, at the exact area he told you to be at.

There was somebody there. In the darkness, it was hard to see. The streetlight offered little brightness. Just a faint glow upon whoever it was. They were clearly halovian, a light bounced off their halo, providing a shine in your line of sight. Contrarily, they stood in dark clothes. And seemed to be fidgeting...as if waiting for someone.

As if on cue, the figure straightens up and turns to look at you. Those grey feathers and yellow eyes were unmistakable.

"Mr. Sunday?" The man hasn't been seen since the Order was chased out of Penacony.

"I didn't expect you to show up early," Sunday gives a halfhearted chuckle, then he calls your name, "you are them, right?"

"Yes, but-" You look towards your arm where the writing is located.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I...I'm the one who's been writing to you all these years." Sunday lifts his sleeve, on it is your reply to him, asking where he's been, and saying you'd be there.

Your soulmate was Sunday. The former head of the Oak Family. An MIA criminal. But also your childhood friend, who you never met.

There was so much to say, but the only thing you could think to ask was, "Why? You've been gone for so long..."

"I'm sorry. My fa-the dream master, prevented me from reaching out to you. He wanted me to be 'the chosen one' for The Order. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to-"

Gently, you put your arms around him.

"I was so worried. Please, talk to me. About everything."

He would, but now, all he wanted to do was rest in your embrace.

Aventurine: eye color

Everyone has one of their eyes the same eye color as their soulmate’s, until they meet.

It’s something that’s so arbitrary and meaningless to most people. There are only so many colors in the universe after all. But not yours.

“Sigonian.” Disdain.

“Poor child.” Pity.

“Whoever your soulmate is, you’re better off not meeting them.” Disgust.

Sigonia. A far off planet somewhere in the galaxy. Lightyears away. Where a people known for their unique eyes resides. Or used to reside.

Looking into the mirror, your right eye looks back at you, it’s a purple tinged with blue. You wonder what your soulmate’s would’ve looked like. You’ve long since accepted that any possible soulmate would’ve died years ago. Not even baseless rumors could settle any feelings of loss.

Knock Knock

Debt collectors.

The gentle knocks turn into bangs. The person standing outside takes a full walk around your house, peering inside any windows in search of you. The IPC was relentless when it came to debt. They'd make constant calls, tell your neighbors, blackmail their debtors, tack on more and more money, all to collect as much money as possible.

Just as your nerves calm down your phone rings. It's from a family member.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from the IPC." That's not them. The voice is male with a smoothness to his voice. He disguised his number.

Just when you're about to hang up, "Don't hang up yet, I have a proposition for you." He instructs you to open the door.

You follow his instructions. Each step you make, the pit in your stomach gets wider. The door creeks as you turn the knob.

Two purple eyes, with a blue ring around the pupil. Sigonian. His eyes mirror your right one. But, within his reflection you see your own two regular colored eyes. Wait-

The man's mouth drops in shock, but instantly pulls into a grin. He hangs up the call.

"I see what's going on here. This time, the charge is on me," Aventurine insists. He's covered in designer clothing from head to toe, with golden rings lining each finger. You know right then and there that anything you say will get you nowhere. You're just glad he seems to be on your side.

"...Thank you."

"Mmm, but I never said it was without recompense." Shit. "In return, I'll provide you with a better place to live. This place is a bit...run down," he takes a glance around your home, and you can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Thank you, Aventurine, but that just sounds like I'll be in your debt."

He waves you off. "Debt? No, friend. What kind of partner would I be to let my soulmate fend for themselves?"

Firefly : timer

Every person across the galaxy has a timer leading up to the meeting of their soulmate.

4,000 years. Approximately 35,040,000 hours.

That was what Firefly had.

When she first awoke in her incubation chamber, it felt like she could wait forever. Their purpose was to devote their entire being to Glamoth. She did not dream. Not of the warmth of someone’s hands in theirs. Not of someone telling her that she was more. That was not a right of a weapon.

Yet, under the ashen sky and fields of smoke, not a single light shone through. Glamoth would never see the sun again. That was no place for a firefly.

For the last time she broke all protocol.

They unfurled their wings and chased the light. Finally, Unit AR-26710’s heart fluttered for a purpose that wouldn’t destroy.

24 hours = 1,440 minutes = 86,400 seconds.

They’d be landing in Penacony soon. She looked at her wrist, where the countdown was located. 1 day. She could feel her heart beat in her throat; she was so nervous.

Love. Kafka taught her that emotion. She’d never felt it before. Not that way.

Her eyes never left the window.

5 minutes = 300 seconds.

299, 298, 297, 296… Thinking in seconds was faster than minutes. It made time go faster. Minutes felt like eternity.

120, 119, 118, 117… Were they standing in the same area? Could she be looking at them right now? How far apart were they? Would they be tall or short? Would they be the time to put milk before cereal? Would they even like her?

10, 9, 8, 7… She watched the time tick away. She didn’t dare to look up least she burn up from the inside. It felt like her propulsion accidentally activated.

4, 3, 2, 1—

A figure crashed into her from behind. “I’m so sorry!”

0

She turned to look, and there you were. Yet, there was no celebration like she imagined. No hugging. No holding each other in an embrace. Instead, your face was pulled into grimace. Your arm gently interlocking with hers. Your posture was tight and hunched. All the signs of an uneasy person. Two Bloodhound members trailed after you.

“Did we do something wrong?” Firefly moved to stand in front of you

“That’s classified information,” one of the bloodhound guards say, gaze shifting off to look at you.

“I really didn’t do anything.” You look at Firefly with a pleading look.

The girl looks back at you and nods. She grabs your hand, the one the countdown is located on and charges for the alleys.

You hear the slap of their shoes against the concrete. The hurried pants of the guards. The footsteps behind you get louder and closer. In spite of the danger, all you can think about is the girl whose fingers are intertwined with yours. It brings a rush to your cheeks that only a breeze can soothe.

When your soulmate rounds the corner of the alley, her warm hand laced with yours turn a cold metallic. Her other hand placed around the small of your back in support. The suit of the armor is cold against your skin, but there’s a heat that radiates from the chest of the mech. It soothes your nerves. The lack of heat from her hand interlocked with yours may be replaced, but it was welcome.

When she unwraps her wings from behind her suit, a warm air erupts around you. Suddenly, you’re in the sky. The wind ruffles your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it dawns on you that you’re in your soulmate’s arms.

‘How would the other hunters react if they knew she blew her cover? Kafka was definitely going to tease her."

a/n #2: aven's was so hard to write. he feels like such a sleazebag in this but its only because he's in work mode I promise !! I want to do more of these bc it was fun.

[alchely]

My Top Gallavich fics

So, under the advice of the lovely @iangallagherisadeadman I've decided to compile a favorites Gallavich fic list along with a brief rec of each, this won't be a strict top 10 cause I'm not gonna torture myself into excluding some of these stories on some made-up self imposed arbitrary rules.

A bunch of disclaimers: most of these fics are long fics, going from 30k words up, I'm not purposefully excluding shorter fics, I have read plenty of them, but they do have a harder time sticking in my head months after reading.

Most of these fics will be explicit, just read the tags on the fic itself if you want to find out more.

Some of these fics don't have links because the authors chose to lock them and as such make them unlinkable, in order to read them you will need to go through the author's page while you're logged in your AO3 account.

This ended up ballooning out of control and is A LOT longer than ten fics, I apologize in advance :p.

YOU'LL NEVER SEE US AGAIN – spoonfulstar - 231k words

Mickey and Ian have been students at Marceline boarding school their whole lives, as their time at the institute draws toward the end they will start to discover many things, about themselves, about each other and about the world they live in.

THIS FIC! I CRIED! The number of fanfiction that are able to make me cry can be counted on a singular hand, the emotional stakes get higher and higher as the story goes on, leading to a beautiful and bittersweet climax.

This story will make you think and feel deeply about topics you'd never think a shameless fic would delve into.

I am obsessed with Mickey in this fic, he and Ian grow up in an environment that could not be more removed from South Side Chicago and yet his personality is still so recognizably and distinctly Mickey.

The story goes very dark at times, and the fic itself could be considered lengthy, but I assure you the author has made sure to not make you feel it. Those 200k words flowed so well the story did not feel long at all.

HELP ME (TEAR DOWN MY REASON) – wehangout - 34k words

Mickey is a detective and Ian becomes a suspect in an investigation except Mickey already knows him because he's his favorite dancer.

This fic falls under the umbrella of fics where “Mickey is so in love with Ian he does something unbelievably crazy”.

Oooh boy, this fic, it's written in second person (yes you've read that right), tbh out of all fics I've read from this author I think this one was the easiest to adjust mentally to the change in perspective.

I loved Mickey’s “love” in this, just… This raw connection to Ian, the perfect cocktail of feelings, I could read that all day long.

IN ANOTHER WORLD – Roryonic - 249k words

Mickey does not get sent to prison at the end of S5, what happens after and how his presence influences future events (mostly Ian, but also every other Gallagher as well as his own family).

As far as I'm concerned this fic is the closest to a perfect S6 and beyond fix-it. The dialogue writing in this story is so close to canon Shameless that I could picture entire scenes in my head with the actors playing the characters, with their body and personality quirks.

Sometimes I find myself describing this fic like it's the actual show's deleted scenes, “Look, Mickey has his own storyline! And Mandy is here! And the existence of Yevgeni does not become a plot hole!”

There are some Mickey lines in this fic that to me are as canon as if they'd been in the show. Absolutely iconic writing.

I love this author so here's a rec of some of their other longfics, however I highly suggest a lot of their other much shorter stuff as well:

BATTLESHIPS AND LOVE BOATS: Ian and Mickey start their “no strings attached” kind of sex relationship a little later than canon but their attraction and love is just as strong. This is a sort of High School AU that turns into a Prison AU that turns into something else and every shift is just as lovely as the next.

YOU SMELL LIKE LOVE: Ian and Mickey are childhood friends, to the point that the rest of the Gallaghers might as well consider Mickey a seventh brother, mmmh, I sure wonder how things will start to change. Look, I never thought I'd love a childhood friends AU for Gallavich yet here I am, if it's good it's good.

ME AND THE DEVIL: Mickey unconsciously calls for a vengeance demon and Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, because Mickey is a stubborn dumbass they fall in love instead. This story has a lot of twists and turns and the premise is only the very beginning of the story. I LOVED it!

THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF IAN GALLAGHER – Shamelessquestions - 309k words

Ian is a dancer in a club, he accidentally gets involved in the affair of a dangerous mafia don, but the true danger is the attraction he and the mafioso’s right hand Mickey feel for each other as soon as they meet.

What. A. Classic. Truly, an unforgettable story, and I don't mean this in hyperbole, I read this story around… 2016/2017 during my second round in the Shameless fandom, then I read countless other fics in a lot of other fandom and yet this story was the only one that my mind retained from back then, to the point that I could still remember some of the finer details as well as the final plot twists when I came back to reread it.

The plot is constructed beautifully and the original characters (part of the Shamelessquestions fanfiction universe, as they come back time and time again in every one of their AU to fulfill their role in the story) are just as vibrant.

What a story, truly.

Favorite original character in this AU: Sal, his downfall is so satisfying and yet so pitiful to read.

TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME – Mellow_Yellow - 221k words

Ian finds something scary and calls Mickey for help, even though they had only reconnected that very day after two years of not seeing each other. Together, they get sucked into a situation they weren't at all prepared for. Can they even admit that they're in over their head?

The very beginning of this fic is SO cinematic it grabbed my interest from the very first scene and didn't let go until the end, DO NOT search for spoilers.

The only warning I'll give is that it does deal with a bit of gore and what I'm personally gonna define as slight psychological horror. That's it. Enjoy!

BROKE STRAIGHT BOYS – dancermk - 66k words

Mickey becomes a porn actor for a site where he has to pretend he's straight and not enjoying the copious amount of gay sex he's having on camera, enter Ian, another actor under the same agency and their off the chart physical chemistry.

This story has, needless to say, some really, really good smut. I especially loved their first time together, but every sex scene in this story is seared in my mind.

ETHERIZED AGAINST THE SKY – Snarfle - 213k words

So, I debated whether I should add this fic or not, but I think if there is one fic that will stay in my mind long after this Shameless binge of the past couple of months it's this one, and it should absolutely become one of those fic that everyone in the fandom should read.

After Mickey gets shot by Kash his life takes a completely different direction and he ends up in a group home where, through many difficult times, he turns his life around.

So many iconic moments in this fic, some funny as fuck, some sad, some so absurd that I'm surprised they weren't lifted straight from Shameless, one so gruesome in the very first chapter that I was surprised to have such a visceral feeling from just words on a screen. Yeah, this story will stay with me for a long time.

OLD RULES FOR NEW SIDE PIECES – Shamelessquestions - 217k words

Ian is a Fed and he spots Mickey looking suspicious in an art museum, the mutual attraction is overwhelming, Mickey is not what he seems and Ian is already with someone else, but that's not gonna stop him from pursuing what he and Mickey have.

Putting it as bluntly as I can, this fic made me face the realization that I love cheating fics (if the cheating happens to someone else to bring together the endgame couple). I have already reread this fic twice and I could probably go for another one and not get tired of it, it's that good, and out of all this author's fics it's probably my favorite.

Favorite original characters in this AU: It's a three way tie between Dre, Ivan and Carrie, they're all very captivating in this story.

Other fic from this author I'd recommend cause I really love their style:

LOST IN TRANSLATION: Ian meets a very attractive man while he's in Ukraine who doesn't speak English, a mere language barrier won't stop him from flirting for hours. (adorable)

YOU MAKE ME FEEL HUMAN – Dragona - 66k words

Ian is an assassin, he meets Mickey and thus begins a very sick love story.

To say I'm obsessed with this fic is an understatement, I suggest to everyone to just go read the original author’s own description of the fic, it sets the tone of the story magnificently.

This is an Ian Gallagher that almost resembles Jerome (also played by Cameron in Gotham) but like… a slightly more subdued and saner S1/S2 version of him. I love the layers that get peeled right in front of my eyes, the madness that creeps in a bit more every chapter. I LOVE this story.

DRIED INK - 87k words

This fic combines my two favorite Gallavich-specific tropes, one being ‘Mickey comes back from prison after s6, Ian is with someone else’ and ‘Ian cheats on that someone else for Mickey’

I love the Gallaghers in this and how unsurprised they are at Ian going back to Mickey right away. It's a little jewel of a fic.

Mickey tries SO hard to stop himself and Ian in this but their love is too magnetic, they're irresistible to each other.

THE QUESTION OF NORMAL – blue_newman - 92k words

Ian is a prison counselor, Mickey is in prison, they fall in love and it's beautiful and Ian is incredibly devoted to Mickey in this fic and I fell in love with them both in this.

KINDA RAW – catgrassplantdad - 6k

Quite simply this is my favorite short pwp fic.

Illustrating those “five times” in one night that Mickey references in 11x01.

This fic is so hot, I love it <3

QUATERVOIS – DodgerBear - 51k words

Soldier Mickey gets stationed in the middle of nowhere and meets a farmer called Ian who makes him question everything.

Falling under the same umbrella of “Mickey does something crazy for Ian” fics and this is why it stuck in my mind even if it's been a while since I've read it.

I LOVE this story, their dialogues and everything that happens in it. The setting is lovely and you will fall in love with the description of Ian’s farm.

Other fic by the same author that I also loved:

BURDEN OF PROOF: Cop Mickey gets caught in a legal battle between the two oldest Gallagher brothers, something doesn't feel right though…

THE WORDS HE DOESN'T SAY: Mickey is released before Ian in s10 and has to meet a court-mandated therapist. The story is from the therapist POV and goes AU from the beginning of s10 in that Mickey gets involved back into Yev and Svetlana’s life, the dialogue is, quite obviously, the main attraction of the story and it's really well done. (Also, written in first person).

THE MENAGERIE – CrossMyDNA - 147k words

Ian decides to re-explore his bdsm preferences at The Menagerie where he meets sub extraordinaire Mickey on his very first visit.

Shameless is undoubtedly the fandom that opened my eyes to what bdsm could be back in… approx 2016? When that other popular bdsm fic was still around *ahem*.

So it definitely feels like a sign that coming back into the fandom this fic now exists and is SO GOOD.

Obviously it's very explicit, the smut in this fic is one of the best I've ever read.

The chemistry between Ian and Mickey sizzles off the screen and can absolutely be felt even in moments not of the nsfw variety, absolutely recommended!

MICKEY MILKOVICH’S GUIDE TO FLIRTING – whatwouldmickeydo - 40k words

An s2 “missing moments” between Gallavich, completely canon compliant, all under the pretense that Mickey is following a step by step guide to flirting.

I wish this fic was describing canon moments, not kidding a single bit, I wish I could somehow magically manifest these scenes into existence they're that good and fit that well into canon.

M8TE – gallawitch - 53k words

Omegaverse fic where Ian and Mickey both start using an app and end up matching with each other, even though a connection is made almost instinctively, coming to terms with it with a sound mind will take a bit longer…

Hey,had to have at least one of these on here lol

I love omegaverse and this was everything I wanted from it, couldn't have asked for anything better really <3.

SHACKLED – MyRelapse - 19k words

Ian has a change of heart and he decides that Mickey IS the one he wants, even if he's still in prison, so he keeps in contact and goes through every hoop imaginable to have him back as soon as possible.

Reading this made me so happy like I could burst, love it.

WAITING ON MY OWN TOO LONG – Ride4812 - 266k words

This rec more than any other on this list is what I'm gonna consider self indulgent because it covers the trope I always craved to read in such a satisfying way: Canon AU where Mickey comes back from prison after 8 years, Ian has found someone else but the moment the two meet again they fall back into each other right away.

The series is made up of 4 smaller fics:

One more night

Something more this time

No more lonely nights

Ain't this life so sweet

(I will point out here and nowhere else that the last installment of this series has some segment that probably needed to be re-read a couple more times, but by that point I was too invested, and the quality fluctuates a lot only in certain parts)

The writing style is very direct and to the point, which I love, the smut is very present and written beautifully and most importantly never boring.

Ian is a MESS in this fic and had me Stressed™, mostly cause for some reason I can't handle too much casual depiction of drug abuse and addiction (I know, ironic considering the fandom).

Conflicts and resolutions are never clean cut, they don't necessarily resolve quickly or definitely or the way you probably imagine they should and I find this level of realism very satisfying.

Taking a bit of space here at the end to also rec a couple other Ride4812 fics that I also loved:

COUP DE FOUDRE - A model/photographer AU where Ian and Mickey fall in love the instant they meet and do some crazy things because of that.

HOPE HE MIGHT - A lawyer AU where Ian and Mickey are on opposing sides for the same client, an interesting murder mystery steeped in a religious cult.

Generally I feel like this author is really good at depicting just how unapproachable Mickey can be to anyone that isn't called Ian Gallagher and I eat it up every time.

WHAT THE NIGHT DOES TO THE DAY – andchaos - 9k words

A Gallavich childhood friends AU with a quite original arrangement for the story and the various segments of their lives. Very satisfying read.

RANSOM – BeckyHarvey29 - 112k words

Terry sends his sons to kidnap a Gallagher child to force Frank into paying back the money he owes, unfortunately for him Mickey and his brothers kidnap Ian, and a whole other kind of story unfolds.

Mickey and Ian falling in love in this fic is such a good read. I don't wanna spoil anything of how that or the kidnapping plot goes, since the two are so intertwined. Just know that it will be worth it.

UNDER LOCK AND KEY – Suzy_Queue - 106k words

Ian is assigned the night shift at his new job where he provides spare keys to his fellow college students stuck outside their dorm rooms. To make matters worse his shift coworker is the oh so infamous Mickey Milkovich.

I am magnetized by the way this author writes their pining for each other, their attraction and obsession, how it blooms and unfolds. This fic in particular had me develop a very bad case of tunnel vision, couldn't really turn away until I finished reading it all.

I still haven't read everything this author has to offer, but so far I also loved:

INHUMAN: A mysterious force starts attacking people close to Mickey and it all seems to lead to a mysterious redhead Mickey is oh so coincidentally obsessed with. Very cool paranormal story.

THESE FOOLISH GAMES: Mickey takes over as the boss of the local branch of a trampoline park, where Ian is one of the employees, they annoy each other to no end but what they don't know is that they're secretly texting each other.

IS THERE SOMEWHERE – andchaos - 48k words

Mickey is born with no words on his skin, convinced he's going to live a life of misery cause no one will ever say the words he's destined to hear, he's not a very happy guy. Here comes mute boy Ian who crashes into his life and won't let go.

A classic Soulmate AU, I love that like in a lot of other Gallavich fics their physical connection and compatibility usually comes before their emotional one, it is one aspect that I feel distinguishes their relationship to many other fandom’s ships.

LAST NIGHT AT THE VERONA GRAND HOTEL – the_rat_wins - 27k words

Mickey starts working at an ancient hotel who's supposedly haunted. Mickey doesn't believe in ghost stories, he is much more interested in this one guest he meets at night during his shift.

What a cinematic experience this fic is! Absolutely recommended, the length of it makes it so you can read it in the same time it would take to watch the same story in movie format.

Other fics by the same authors that have impressed me:

FADE THIS ONE TO BLACK: Ian dies of overdose in a pile of snow outside the club, when Mickey finds him there he vows to do anything to get him back.

I don't know why but this fic in particular gives off the vibes of being a pilot for a ya urban fantasy TV series, except we gotta imagine everything that comes after the first episode lol

NO LIE: Ian and Mickey are Soulmates and as such they can't lie to each other. This series is short and sweet and full of feelings, perfect

PARAGRAPHS – pink_ink - 100k words

Ian becomes a reading tutor for ex-convicts, Mickey is among them and Ian starts paying him more and more attention.

This is a story where they meet under very different circumstances and where they've lived slightly different lives compared to canon and yet they're still able to find each other in the end.

Also, sign me up for every fic where Ian has to work just as hard to help Mickey and care for him as the opposite, where Ian's brand of stubbornness is the only way to get through to Mickey.

I'm also adding a couple of ongoing fics, just two to not overwhelm too much.

NONE THE WISER – Loftec - ~218k words

Ian starts visiting Mickey’s diner, it takes a while and yet no time at all to warm up to each other.

I'm captivated by the author's writing style. I love Ian's and Mickey’s relationship. I love how they sort of take their time and yet pine helplessly for each other.

I'm obsessed with the fact that the whole point of the fic doesn't appear until two thirds of the way in cause the diner scenes were just too good to pass up on lol (and I 100% agree with them).

INTRO TO QUANTUM DATING – spoonfulstar - ~563k words

Canon Mickey and Ian meet in University. A college slice of life but drenched in the casual (and not so casual) darkness of canon shameless.

The dark humor in this is fenomenal and left me gasping laughing so many times.

Unexpectedly Ian in this fic is pursuing a linguistics oriented degree, which was what I studied when I tried university, the topics are explained in such an accurate way I have to assume the author studied them themselves and that this story is somewhat a reimagining of their own college experience because if not this would be an absurd amount of accurate research to make.

Reading this fic feels like living through the American college experience from the comfort of my home lol.

As I said before, this author's way of writing does not weight you down even with its length, the story flows perfectly from one scene to the next and before you realize it you've reached the end and you have to accept that 500k words weren't even enough.

Let's end this list with some quick recommendations

WHILE WE'RE MAKING OTHER (PEOPLE'S) PLANS - kyasticlikestea

Mickey is volunteered to organize someone's else's wedding after he managed to salvage his own so well, he'll do it, but his own Southside way.

THIS IS THE ROAD TO RUIN - bricoleur10

Ian and Mickey never go to rob Ned, the story unfolds differently from there. A fix-it with a lot of Gallavich longing , very good smut and some really good dialogue.

HEY, HONEY MINE (I WAS THERE ALL THE TIME) - serveteas

Mickey talks about his crush with Iggy and accidentally pronoun-slips. Short, to the point, funny af and I just really love it. Takes place after their fight at Kash’n Grab in s2.

AGAINST GLASS - AllThatMatters

Ian gets traded from one club to another as a dancer (and more) and ends up in the Milkovich family's club. This is a Mafia!Mickey story with some pretty tight sub-plots, I love his brothers in this.

ONE OF A KIND - fckyeahgallavich

Mickey breaks his finger and it has to be set in the hospital, chaos - of the homophobic kind - ensues. Protective!Ian, I wanna hug Mickey in this.

IAN THE FRIENDLY GHOST - Ravenheart

Ian is haunting an apartment and Mickey starts living in it, Ian is maybe starting to have a crush on him. This isn't angsty!

BLOOD IN, BLEED OUT - brewrosemilk, Whatsastory

Historical AU. Perfectly innocent bystander Ian Gallagher is thrown into the affairs of the Ukrainian Mafia back in 1954, his relationship with Mickey will span decades and he won't remain innocent for long, the mafia can corrupt anyone.

TEENAGE RUNAWAY - sadwhales

Ian comes to live and finish high school with his half siblings on the South Side, he's immediately captivated by a boy sitting under the bleachers, maybe his North Side naivety will catch his attention too.

GARDEN SONG - melwrtiesthings

A glimpse into their lives in their West Side apartment, a lot of initial angst due to a manic episode and then a lot of recovery and healing and learning more about themselves.

[mingi-s-dimples]

At his mercy - hj

KINKTOBER DAY 24, REQ. BY anon

~"hongjoong tortures y/n by strapping a vibrator onto her pussy and tying her limbs, causing y/n to squirm and stop for him to make it stop. hongjoong edges y/n by turning the vibrator off everytime she's abt to come."

pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub fem!reader

genre: 18+, bdsm au

summary: one broken rule of his would bring you on the edge of being desperate and begging.. for him

wc: 3.2k

warnings: bdsm au, dom/sub relationship, harsh dom!hj, whiny sub!reader, use of toys (vibrator), lots of edging, denied orgasms, crying (out of overstim), slight dacryphilia, use of restraints (he uses soft scarfs to tie her up, and the toy), kissing, neck holding, neck grabbing, slight choking, clit stim, some praising here and there, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, will edit later.

Author's Note: I love writing bdsm style fics sm... y all can see one of my personal kinks ups🧍‍♀️it s all good tho, I love conveying my thoughts whenever I write bdsm typa fics 🤭 I'm so so into the edging thing I'm going insane... anyways, anon, enjoy !!! 🤗💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft glow of twilight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room that felt heavier than usual. You had been home for barely an hour, your shoulders aching from the weight of the day, when the realization hit you like a jolt of lightning: your phone was dead.

You froze mid-step, the memory of Hongjoong’s firm words echoing in your mind.

“Keep your phone on, *always.*”

It wasn’t a casual request. In your relationship—both romantic and deeply rooted in the careful dynamics of trust and power—it was one of the fundamental rules. His rules weren’t arbitrary; they were meticulously crafted with your safety and the trust you had placed in him at their core.

But today had been a whirlwind. You’d been caught up in errands, lost track of time, and when your phone had died, you’d brushed it off. *I’ll charge it when I get home,* you’d thought. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

Now, as you stared at the lifeless device in your hand, your stomach sank. You knew Hongjoong would already be home, and you could practically feel the weight of his disapproval before even stepping into the bedroom.

A deep breath did little to steady your nerves as you opened the door. The sight of him, seated on the edge of the bed, confirmed your fears. He was dressed impeccably, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, a casual elegance that only heightened the intensity of his presence. His head lifted as the door clicked shut behind you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re late,” he said evenly, his voice calm but sharp enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, your hands tightening around your dead phone. “I—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “Spare me the excuses.”

He stood, his movements deliberate, and the sheer authority radiating from him made your pulse quicken. As your Dom, Hongjoong’s presence carried an unspoken weight—a mixture of love, control, and safety wrapped in his unwavering confidence. Tonight, though, you could feel the shift in the air, the tension crackling between you like an unstruck match.

“You were unreachable for hours,” he said, his tone quieter now, but no less commanding. He crossed the room with slow, measured steps, stopping just in front of you. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he agreed, tilting his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You weren’t. And because of that, you’ve broken one of my rules.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. Hongjoong wasn’t one to lose control or raise his voice; his power lay in his restraint, the deliberate way he handled every situation. You knew how much effort he put into crafting your dynamic, ensuring that every boundary, every rule, was there to protect and guide you.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice deceptively soft, “what happens when you break the rules?”

You hesitated, heat rising to your cheeks. “There are consequences.”

“Good girl,” he said, nodding once. “Then you understand why we’re here.”

A thrill of nervous anticipation coursed through you, your body already responding to the subtle shift in his demeanor. This was no longer just about the broken rule or the dead phone. This was about his rule—rebuilding it, reaffirming it, and reminding you of the structure you had both agreed to.

“Strip,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you space.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of your shirt. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no flicker of doubt. His command wasn’t rooted in anger but in the unshakable confidence that this was what you both needed.

Piece by piece, you removed your clothing, the vulnerability of the act heightening your awareness of every movement, every breath. When you were finally bare before him, he gestured toward the bed.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, perching on the edge of the mattress, your heart racing as he reached into the bedside drawer. He pulled out the familiar length of silk—a scarf he often used during scenes—and the sight of it made your stomach flutter.

“Hands,” he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.

You lifted your hands, palms up, and he moved closer, the scent of his cologne washing over you as he carefully bound your wrists. The fabric was cool against your skin, the knot secure but not too tight—a reminder of the balance he always maintained between control and care.

Once your wrists were bound, he stepped back, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Do you know why this is happening?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“Because I broke the rules,” you replied softly, your cheeks flushing under his gaze.

“More than that,” he said, leaning in slightly, his presence overwhelming in the best way. “Because you forgot what it means to me. To let me protect you.”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your heart clenching at the weight of his words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the sincerity in your voice evident.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “I know you are,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But sorry isn’t enough. You need to feel this—so you don’t forget.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation thrumming through your veins as he stepped back. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, his movements deliberate and precise. He positioned himself above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, and the sheer proximity of him made it hard to breathe.

“You trust me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat coursing through your body.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good.”

He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your temple—a gesture that was both comforting and charged with electricity. Then, without another word, he began his work.

His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing a slow, deliberate path over your body. Every touch was calculated, designed to heighten your awareness and leave you yearning for more.

Hongjoong’s eyes gleamed with something primal as he pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing down the curve of your waist, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Without breaking eye contact, he reached back into the drawer. The faint hum of anticipation in the room grew sharper as he retrieved a small, sleek vibrator.

The sight of it made your breath hitch. He held it up between you, tilting it slightly, the light catching its smooth surface. His thumb hovered over the button, and with a soft click, it came to life—a low, teasing buzz that made your body tighten in response.

“This,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, “is for me to control. Just like you.”

A shiver coursed through you as he climbed off the bed, placing the vibrator down for a moment. He grabbed another length of silk, this one thicker, from the drawer and leaned down to secure your ankles to the bedposts. His touch was firm but careful, ensuring the bonds were snug but not uncomfortable. The vulnerability of having your legs spread and tied left you quivering.

With your wrists already secured above you and your legs now restrained, Hongjoong stepped back to admire his work. His gaze traveled over your body, appreciation and dominance mingling in his eyes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Completely at my mercy.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze, your cheeks heating as you squirmed under his scrutiny. But the sound of the vibrator clicking to a higher setting snapped your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp enough to cut through your haze.

“Yes, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

He smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that always left you breathless. Slowly, he climbed back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he positioned himself between your thighs.

“I’m going to teach you,” he said, running the vibrator along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just shy of where you wanted it most. “Teach you to listen. To remember who you belong to.”

The vibrations against your skin were maddening, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your hips instinctively arched toward him, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, holding you in place.

“Uh-uh,” he said with a click of his tongue. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the vibrator.

The heat in his gaze intensified as he trailed the toy higher, stopping just at the apex of your thighs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as he kept you on the edge, never quite giving you what you craved.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of power. “Now let’s see how well you can obey.”

The sound of the vibrator’s low hum filled the room as Hongjoong continued his torment, letting it hover just close enough to make your body tighten, only to pull it away at the last second. His precision was maddening, each pass over your skin deliberate and cruel in its restraint. You could feel your orgasm building—heat pooling deep within you, your breaths turning ragged—but just as you neared that peak, he stopped.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as your body ached for the release he denied you.

“Ah, ah,” Hongjoong tutted, clearly relishing your reaction. His smirk was wicked as he trailed the toy lightly along your stomach, far from where you wanted it. “Did I give you permission for that?”

“N-no, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

“Then why are you acting like you have control here?” he teased, his tone both sharp and teasing as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t. Not tonight.”

Your body trembled as he brought the vibrator back to your clit, the sensations sharp and all-consuming. This time, he pressed it against it with just enough pressure to send your nerves spiraling toward that edge again. Your breaths quickened, your hips bucking against the restraints as pleasure surged through you.

But once again, just as you were about to topple over the edge, he pulled back, switching the vibrator off with a casual click.

“No!” The protest slipped out before you could stop it, your voice thick with desperation. Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you pulled weakly against the silk holding you in place.

Hongjoong chuckled, low and rich, clearly enjoying your unraveling. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he brushed his fingers gently along your jawline, tipping your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re really not in a position to argue, are you?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, and his smirk deepened. “Since you seem to need a reminder of your place…”

He reached into the drawer again and pulled out a silk ribbon. Your heart raced as he carefully tied the vibrator against your inner thigh, angling it perfectly over your clit, where every nerve felt raw and exposed. He secured it with meticulous care, ensuring it stayed in place.

“There,” he said, flicking the toy back on to a steady, teasing hum. It wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, but the constant stimulation was maddening, leaving you squirming in your bonds.

You let out a soft cry of frustration, your body both desperate for relief and overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensation.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his tone mockingly sweet as he knelt on the bed, watching you with that same unshakable confidence.

“Please,” you whispered, tears now slipping down your cheeks as the frustration became unbearable.

“Please, what?” he prompted, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Please, sir,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

He leaned down, brushing a thumb across your cheek to catch a tear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Desperate. Completely at my mercy.”

The hum of the vibrator against you was relentless, the teasing just enough to keep you teetering on the brink without ever letting you fall. Hongjoong’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched you writhe beneath him, the control firmly in his hands.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on,” he said, his voice a mixture of warning and promise, leaving no doubt that he was far from finished.

Hongjoong climbed over you, his presence overwhelming as he hovered above, his knees bracketing your hips. His face was close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity in his gaze was magnetic, holding you captive as he leaned in slowly. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was firm yet teasing, a tantalizing mix of control and tenderness.

His fingers trailed down your sides, deliberate and unhurried, until they found your thighs. He pressed his palms into the soft flesh, his touch both grounding and electrifying. Without breaking the kiss, his hand drifted lower, brushing over the vibrator tied against you. He pressed it gently against you, just enough to amplify the sensation.

A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and Hongjoong broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle—a low, amused sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Every little touch drives you wild, doesn’t it?”

You nodded weakly, your body trembling beneath him. His fingers resumed their journey, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reached the vibrator again, he paused, applying just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

“Easy,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and soothing. His touch softened, his fingers now trailing upward with featherlight strokes that left you aching for more.

When his hand finally settled over your wet cunt, he didn’t rush. Instead, he teased, tracing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, each movement precise and controlled. You gasped at the sensation, your body straining against the bonds as he continued his careful exploration.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice firm but intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for you. His fingers continued their torment, each movement designed to draw you closer to the edge without letting you fall.

“Say it,” he commanded softly, his fingers pausing just enough to make you desperate for their return.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

A satisfied smile spread across his lips as he leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, but no less consuming. His touch remained relentless, a masterful mix of restraint and precision, leaving you completely at his mercy in the best possible way.

Hongjoong’s fingers moved in circles, his touch relentless yet measured, keeping you balanced right on the edge of release. The vibrator’s steady hum against you combined with the pressure of his skilled fingers made your entire body tense, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

You felt it coming—the moment your body would give in, the flood of the orgasm you so desperately needed. But just as you reached the brink, Hongjoong’s hand stilled, and he pulled the vibrator away ever so slightly, leaving you hanging in exquisite frustration.

A cry of anguish escaped your lips, tears of desperation welling up and spilling over as your body trembled beneath him. Your head fell back against the pillow, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as you looked up at him, pleading silently with your tear-filled eyes.

Hongjoong’s expression softened, but his smirk remained. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice rich with mock sympathy. “You’re falling apart, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Please.”

“Please, what?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he tilted his head, his gaze boring into yours. “Say it. Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your cheeks burned with humiliation, but the desperation in your chest outweighed any shyness. “Please, sir,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me…”

Hongjoong chuckled, the sound dark and intoxicating. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, leaning closer so his lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to have to beg better than that.”

Tears slipped freely down your cheeks as you swallowed your pride, your voice trembling. “Please, sir, I need it. I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me come. I’ll do anything.”

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by something deeper, more genuine. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You did so well for me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he brought the vibrator back against you, his fingers resuming their work, but this time his touch was more focused, more demanding. The build-up was immediate, the sensations overwhelming as he guided you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Cum, darling… isn't that what you've been asking for?” he said softly, his tone commanding but tender.

The tension in your body snapped, and your irgasm hit you like a tidal force, your body shaking as you cried out in relief. Hongjoong didn’t stop, his fingers and the vibrator easing you through the intensity, grounding you as you came down from the high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his free hand smoothing over your thigh in a comforting gesture. “Breathe, mhm… this is only the start..”

As your breaths began to steady, the room still thick with the remnants of your pleasure, Hongjoong shifted. The comforting caress on your thigh was replaced by a firm grip on your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his gaze. His dark, smoldering eyes held yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“I hope you’re not under the impression that I’m satisfied yet,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a teasing edge. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and deliberate. “We’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it—not enough to hurt, just enough to command your attention, to make you feel utterly claimed. The weight of his touch sent a new wave of heat through your body, an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

“Next time,” he said, his voice a blend of a growl and a purr, “if you push me like that, you won’t get to cum so easily. Do you understand me?” He tilted his head slightly, studying your expression as if savoring the moment.

You swallowed hard, the mix of his authority and care electrifying. When you managed to nod, his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, a stark contrast to the intensity of his grip.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. He released your neck, his touch trailing down to your shoulder, and leaned back just enough to take in your flushed, breathless state.

“Now,” he continued, his tone playful yet resolute, “we’ve got a long way to go, darling. I’d suggest you keep up… for your sake.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @cursed-eastern ?, I can't find your acc 😞

[bakawitch]

Au, where Bakura is a serial killer and Ryou is a true crime enthusiast. One day, Bakura is just going about his business, trying to dispose of a body when Ryou appears and catches him off guard. Ryou is a wide-eyed idiot whose current fixation just so happens to be The Ring Killer (who just so happens to be Bakura). Despite his innocent, naive get up, Ryou has an insanely analytical mind, and he was able to deduce where The Ring Killer would be based on a few arbitrary clues. Bakura tries to deny it, but Ryou insists that he has to be The Ring Killer and that his secret is safe with him because he's actually a big fan of Bakura.

Bakura contemplates killing him for a while but eventually decides against it and asks Ryou to prove his intentions by helping him get rid of the body. Ryou is weirdly enthusiastic about the whole thing, and even after the deed is done, he follows Bakura around. Ryou gets really attached to Bakura for some reason, and they eventually develop a symbiotic relationship with each other. Ryou provides Bakura with information, helps him out with murder stuff, and advice about logically what the police's next move would be, and in return, Bakura keeps him reluctant company.

As predicted, Ryou turns out to be equally if not more messed up than Bakura and eventually kills some hired gun who went after Bakura after he killed some highly influential rich guy. Ryou's very happy that he has another thing in common with Bakura now, and Bakura ends up realising that Ryou is more terrifying and worse than he is. The only problem for him being is that he's not sure whether he's scared shitless or if he's kind of into that. Weird murder-romance dark humour hijinks ensue further!

[otaku553]

The blessed (and their shadow)

Galacta Knight and my hero of yore oc, Nebula :) I have many thoughts about them if you want to read!

OK SO some of you might remember two of my old headcanons (which are very relevant for the characterization of nebula)

The four matters are kind of like the alchemical Aristotelian elements where they exist in a square or diamond with 2 attributes for each. The Aristotelian elements are fire, air, water, earth, (very familiar I'm sure) and fire and air are considered hot, while water and earth are cold. Fire and earth are dry, while water and air are wet (if i remember correctly). So on the scales of moisture and temperature, each of the elements lead into each other but are distinct and separate. Now, with heart, dream, soul, and dark matter, I have a similar idea but with different scales. Heart and dream correspond to positivity (in emotions) and dark and soul correspond to negativity. Then, heart and soul correspond to activeness, while dark and dream correspond to passiveness. I believe this is slightly different from my old headcanon where each of the matters corresponded to a different attribute, though this is less of a change and more of a rotation of 45 degrees. This is very relevant to Galacta and Nebula in particular, since they are in my au/headcanons the heroes of yore corresponding to heart matter and dream matter respectively.

The masks that Astrals wear act as a barrier or separation between the Astral and their duties as a warrior. Astrals tend to look younger than they actually are, and are often perceived as pure souls of light and positivity due to the nature of their origin. Therefore, when they become a Knight or a warrior, they also gain a mask to separate themselves (or their purity and sanctity) from the violence and brutality of war.

Now, even though the four heroes of yore theoretically have saved the universe at least once by sealing Void, I'm guessing that saving the universe wasn't the only thing their powers were used for. Oftentimes great power comes with the danger of use for political goals, which leads to war and such, and I wouldn't be surprised if the heroes were also participants in war, but as overwhelming forces of power and strength that demoralized the enemy. In any case, this creates an interesting dichotomy between the way the heroes are perceived by those they protect as paragons of light and goodness, as opposed to whatever atrocities they might commit on the battlefield.

Between the four heroes, there is also likely an imbalance in the public perception based on their matter correspondences. Negativity and positivity are often assigned arbitrary moral values that say that being positive is good, and so Galacta Knight and Nebula Knight are in a unique position of being heroes among heroes due to their positive alignment. However, whereas Galacta Knight acts as a true role model and paragon, Nebula Knight sees themselves as a shadow of sorts and thinks they lack the qualification to call themself a "good person."

Whereas Galacta Knight values all life, as an astral that feeds off of active positivity, Nebula Knight values rest and relaxation. Galacta Knight feels the weight of every life they take on the battlefield, and feels immense guilt for taking life, which they see as beautiful. Nebula, on the other hand, thinks that on the battlefield, there is probably no greater rest than death.

They do have somewhat of a moral compass, however, since they do realize quickly that this is wrong of them, seeing as death only begets greater sorrow and no one should have to die in the first place. But this also makes them realize that they are not qualified to be a good person since they don't quite care all that much about the lives they're taking.

Added to Galacta's status already as a hero above heroes, this makes Nebula raise Galacta to a high moral standard, and a sort of pedestal above themself. They do not feel like they are on equal footing with Galacta, who is genuinely good, whereas Galacta sees no difference between the two of them and in fact considers Nebula as a truer equal than the other heroes because of the societal expectation for both of them to be paragons.

This leads to Nebula taking off their mask when going into battle because if the mask only exists as a way to separate the pure and good astral from the ruthless and violent warrior, then Nebula believes that for them, this distinction does not exist. Eventually, Galacta and the other heroes get worried enough that Nebula puts the mask back on to appease them, but the scars from that time still remain.

Nebula is sort of my character for exploring the morality of the heroes :) Though Nebula considers themself to not be a good person, ironically, by taking off their mask, they are the only hero that truly confronts and acknowledges what they do without any barrier to absolve their guilt. Taking on responsibility for their own actions without averting their eyes from it is something only they can do for a while. Though they may not feel the full weight of remorse for their actions, they are definitely feeling it in the way that their self worth is damaged by closer evaluation of their own morals.

[corvid-blues]

YOOO EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES AU THINGGG

this post is made specifically for @patches4thechaos no one else (/j)

It’s kind of (???) like a masterpost of this AU, but like badly structured and I haven’t made good reference sheets just some color palettes next to some ok drawings I suppose (I am very much going to redraw them just not soon maybe idk) SO UH HERE ROLES AND WHY I PICKED THEM

Odysseus - Joel

Notes - Idk he was the only one I could safely use because he ACTUALLY HAS A WIFE. Also it’s fun to be different. Though using him as Zeus is also like really fitting. Oh well. You get all the trauma Joel.

Penelope - Lizzie

Notes - I’m sorry Lizzie you’re cool and badass but unfortunately you’re also Joel’s wife and Pen is Ody’s wife. I do like to dream you videotape him killing all the sutiors though.

Telemachus - Hermes 

Notes - I literally have no idea who this guy is except he’s vaguely bird-like from fandom perception and also Joel’s son. But he fits the son role pretty well from what I see. (He’s in Empires btw)

Eurylochus - Martyn

Notes - Bro needs more main roles- Like he’s the least popular Life Series winner (which isn’t a low bar all of them are like super popular) but honestly I made Ren Polities and was like “Welp the only only valid option for Eurylochus is Martyn” and rolled with it.

Polities - Ren

Notes - Ren is a happy-go-lucky joyous boy and I think more people need to recognize that like bro is walking through life confused af but dam happy about it I’ll tell you. Everyone is like “Red King angst angst angst” like he has no idea what’s going on at all times.

Polyphemus - Bdubs

Bdubs is the only viable option for Polyphemus like animal-obsessed and murderous? Who else? Also he has a giant horse demon.

Aeolus - Skizz

Notes - He seems the popular choice, and his goofy demeanor and angelic fandom traits really show why. I have a really vivid mental image of his giant angelic form flapping its wings and pushing the ships with giant gusts of wind. It’s my second favorite moment in all of this.

Circe - Gem

Notes - Actually, I can’t take credit for this one, I saw someone with a different EPIC AU who put her as Circe and using skulk instead of seduction in There Are Other Ways and I was like “GENIUS” and stole it. She fits pretty well.

Hermes - Scar

No other viable option. Especially the fandom meme of Hermes selling drugs to Odysseus, seems like something Scar would do. Also the fun beat and Hermes’s other song “Dangerous” is definitely his vibe like seriously.

Tiresias - Grian

Notes - I have so much unnecessary angsty lore that has nothing to do with actual Tiresias like he was barely twenty when he died but grew up in the underworld, he was forced into being a preist to the Secret Keeper (watcher robes and stuff) and is familiar with a lot of the gods because he’s a prophet. I also have a bunch of desert duo shit (obviously). 

Siren - BigB

Notes - Honestly an arbitrary choice, but my main inspiration was Double Life and how he “pretended” to be Grian’s soulmate. Like, this is a completely different situation but like same concept. Ha you fuck up big time B.

Scylla - Pearl

Notes - Look the giant serpent heads are Pearl’s wolf pack Joel’s head is illuminated but the blood moon reflected in the water before they dock and walk through a dark cave and like his face is bathed in the blood of the moon and in the end the blood of his comrades THE SYMBOLISM. The “drown in your sorrow and tears” LIKE DOUBLE LIFE YALL I CANT.

Antinous - idk honestly

Notes - HE’S EVIL AND A JERK IDK

Calypso - Iskall

Notes - Yoooo our one of our only non-lifers- I guess he doesn’t really count for a Life Series AU but like he was too perfect Calypso being like “Noooo why are you breaking up with me” and Odysseus being like “WE WERE NEVER TOGETHER” real Iskall and Joel coded relationship.

Zeus - The Secret Keeper 

Notes - The only problem with this one is Thunder Bringer because he seems a lot more like just a guy there (an all powerful jerk guy but that’s besides the point) and less like an omnipotent divine deity which is what I was going for with the Secret Keeper in the Horse and the Infant and God Games.

Athena - Cleo

Notes - I saw her sometimes depicted with snake hair like Medusa and ya know Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon so I thought “Hey what if Cleo was Athena and her hair turned into snakes when she’s angry” like in My Goodbye and the “hold your tongue” scene in God Games. I gave her dreads so it’s a smoother transition.

Poseidon - Etho

Notes - Another arbitrary choice! I must blame this on my Ethubs brain like this AU is actually mostly based on Last Life (or at least the relationships) so like red life Bdubs being almost killed by Joel would really piss him off. But also in Limited Life Bdubs is technically Etho’s son so you could take it as that. (Sorry Boat Boys shippers I actually really considered putting him as Calypso)

Apollo - Jimmy

Notes - Now we’re getting into the really arbitrary choices. This was mostly a color match, and Jimmy seems like the kind of guy to own a bunch of cows and throw a hissy fit when one of them is killed. 

Hephaestus - Tango

Notes - Actually, I had Tango for Hephaestus in my head for a while. Idk he just has inventor vibes that would very obviously be angry at Joel’s basically sacrifice of his entire crew.

Aphrodite - Scott

Notes - This was mostly an excuse so I could put Scott in like flowy beautiful clothing also he seems like the kind of guy to be the god of love like bro is very gay.

Ares - Impluse

Notes - I… have no good reasoning for this. Impulse in my head is actually one of the chillest of all the Lifers but he seems like he could get very scary if he was ever actually angry.

Hera - Mumbo

Notes - And here we are, the winner of all the arbitrary choices I made for this AU. Man. Idk he had that one hipster outfit and Hera gives off very 80’s hipster vibes. Maybe that’s what he’ll wear. Huh. This only came to mind like now

This was all supposed to be meant for just me so if it’s confusing then uh sorry

Bam the ok references I have you didn’t expect me to have every character did you naw I’m too lazy for that

Don’t mind the terribly scribbled notes on any of them either pfft um

a couple doodles (Scar cameo lol) (click for full image on the second one)

Looking back on it I made those references MONTHS ago Ren’s cape looks so goofy

Less of a Life Series AU and more of a Hermit-Life-Empires AU um IM STILL CALLING AND TAGGING IT EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES THO

And I swear if you make any fanart tag me or I will hunt you down (/lh) (Probably not gonna be fanart but JUST IN CASE)

[wangxianficfinder]

Junior Centric

~*~

to make an arbitrary wager by moonsteps (G, 9k, Junior Quartet, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post Canon, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Friendship, sizhui and the mortifying ordeal of being the gusu lan heir)

Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ, LSZ & JL, post-canon, family bonding, dramatic revelations)  

无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling's Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

home is where we are by halfdemonvash (T, 17k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng are Bad at Communicating, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, accidental baby acquisition, but it's actually your older brother, references to wwx's past being homeless, and also his past food insecurity, Post-Canon, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Junior Trio Shenanigans)

You Bring the Colour by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day) (G, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Art School, Art Restoration)

a symbol to remind you that there's more to see by paperminds (T, 9k, WangXian, canon-compliant(ish), post-canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angs, tangst with happy ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation) - Jin Ling & WWX focused, with a healthy side of Yunmeng bros

Anonymous Hero by NeverEnoughWangxian (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, POV LSZ, Inadvertently Reuniting Your Boss With His Old Crush/Best Friend, Reunions, Handwavy Detective Work, Handwavy Talismans)

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

Lan Jingyi's Sixth Sense by bluesloth (M, 120k, LJY & WQ, LJY & LSZ, LJY-centric, Ghosts, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Friendship, Drama, Humor, Action/Adventure, Family Feels, POV LJY, Canon Era, Minor Wangxian)

Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, People die but they (mostly) get better, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Because JGS and JZN suck, JC is doing his best, JYL fixes everything with soup and a baby, JZX gets it together, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad WWX, good dad LWJ, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Wēn Remnants Live, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, Background Relationships, Fluff and Crack, Podfic Available)

���� Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

🔒 Lan Sizhui's Got a Crush! by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 46k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, LSZ/OFC, Humor, Fluff and Crack, Case Fic, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Body Horror, Mild Gore, technically there are two cases in this fic, as a treat, the juniors acting as wingmen for LSZ, or more like they're trying to be good matchmakers, Post-Canon)

🔒 Grim Grinning Ghosts by Theladyofravenclaw (G, 3k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Ghost City, mxtx crossover, WWX's Birthday, the juniors shenanigans, Gambling, slight mention of gore once they enter the city, but nothing very graphic)

🔒 How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

🔒 blue flies buzzing by RoseThorne (T, 2k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Gossip, Rumors, Mentioned Wēn Remnants, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, NHS Is A Little Shit, POV LJY, POV Third Person, Threats, Justice, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, LJY Being LJY)

~*~

[hdra77]

Ok since this blog is kinda getting alot of attention i'll just make a pinned post about a little bit of myself

----

interested in commissioning me? my art commission page can be found here! (my commissions are closed )

i accept payment through ko-fi or paypal! feel free to dm to inquire or if you have questions! :D

!! DISCLAIMER !!

Btw please read this before following my blog!! There would be gore,body horror,dark themes and even some suggestive themes Sometimes but overall i do not post any explicit nsfw here !! (they can be filtered through tags but just putting this here as a heads up)

tags are usually: #cw body horror, #tw body horror #cw gore, #tw gore, #cw suggestive, #tw suggestive

Heyy! i'm Soren!

He/Him

You can call me zarou or dra

I am bilingual but im more comfortable speaking in english (still bad at it actually)

i really like cybercore,webcore,warcore aesthetic it may not look like it right now but expect a whole bunch of techcore designs soon

Oh and i am also a huge fan of astronomy,space and all of that sort. Along with post apocalyptic settings,body horror elements and eldritch beings.

Using my art as PFPs/Banners is okay! As long as you give proper credit! But reuploading my works without my permission or claiming them as your own is NOT okay. I will find you and i will hunt you down and turn you into a helpless flopping fish gasping for air.

Inspirations is ok too!! But please do not directly copy from the original work.

Commissions: closed

Art trades: friends/mutuals only

My socials:

Twitter - HINDRANCE77 (!! page contains some suggestive themes !!)

Youtube - HINDRANCE77

Tumblr - hdra77 (you are literally here right now)

Ko-fi - HINDRANCE77

Bluesky - HINDRANCE77

My tags:

#hdra7shitposts - yes, shitposts

#fishdoesart - all my art goes here

#fishdoesdoodles - random doodles and some occasional shitposting, mostly on ms paint

#fishdoesrequests - all my art requests goes here

#wips - wips

#fishbites.txt - ramblings

#other's art - gifts/fanarts! with a mix of some reblogs

#asks - all of my responses goes here

AU TAGS:

Metamorphosis AU

(Tag: #nine sols metamorphosis AU)

- AU masterpost(tba)

- metamorphosis Yi design

Disarray/critical system failure AU

(Tag: #rw disarray au)

- AU masterpost (tba)

- designs

Rainsols AU

(Tag: rainsols au)

- AU masterpost

- designs

OC tags:

Mains:

#7c dystopian arbitrary

#oc : Eclipsed Pantheons

#oc : nine burning skies / #BoP : nine burning skies

#oc : frosted paths unwoven

#rw chronomancer

#rw the cryptid

#7c golden life

General oc tags:

#rw ocs

#rw oc

#ocs

my DNI are basically the general DNI: proshippers,homophobes,etc. you know, the general

my interest varies but i currently hyperfixtate on these fandoms so far:

Rainworld

Nine Sols

Marikinonline4

Animator vs Animation/Animation vs Minecraft

Warrior cats

My dms here are also open so feel free to send me a message! (No weird dms or you get instant block)

Im busy and i dont check discord as frequently but i would be happy to talk to you! I would also be glad to make friends im not intimidating i promise i dont bite totally-

My ask box are always open! Ask me anything basically, my aus, ocs, pretty much anything. You can also send some requests but they will take a gajillion years to finish but i promise ill get them done soon!

My other blogs:

@nyaworld-askblog - for the nyaworld au! this blog is story driven but asks for specific characters are always welcome!

My Rainworld AU tags:

#rw voided au - simple AU about iterators called voideds who drains void fluids out of other iterators, theres also some rot infection going on too

#rw disarray au/SYSTEM FAILURE - a virus in Lttm's code had created a fatal error in her system which caused her to slowly spiral into insanity as she would slowly loosen her grip onto reality, claiming that she had found the solution to their problem..but was it really the answer all along?

#rw nyaworld au - joke au about the entire rainworld cast taking place in the 2000's this one is purely just for nostalgia purposes

#into the sigverse - technically considered an au. this is just a silly little askblog about different versions of NSH interacting because for some reason they can now magically interact with different alternate universe versions of themselves. ocs being used to interact is allowed to!! anyone can use this tag however they please you don't have to send me asks to be a part of the sigverse

-- still WIP --

[pookalicious-hq]

cologne... suna rintarou x reader

| pt. 1 | next | masterlist | synopsis: rintarou's trying to figure out where he stands with the performer who frequents the bar he works at. tags/tws: aged-up au, swearing, bar au that I may or may not be continuing, play cologne by beabadobee but i changed a few lyrics so don't come after me word count: 2300~

A few months ago, when someone asked Rintarou what his type was, he said he didn’t have one. It wasn’t a lie, not really. He’d never been the kind of person to narrow things down to specifics. What was the point? People were unpredictable, complicated. Too much work to fit into a box.

But if he had to put it into words, he’d probably say his type was someone who made him happy. Someone who kept him grounded when his mind was a little too restless. Maybe someone who played an instrument—bonus points if it was the guitar or drums.

He didn’t think much of that answer at the time. It was vague, casual. It didn’t feel tied to anything concrete. Just a loose list of qualities, stitched together like the edges didn’t need to match. But now, if someone were to ask him again, the answer wouldn’t feel so arbitrary.

Now, it would feel like you.

It wasn’t something he realized all at once. Maybe it was the first time he heard you play, the steady rhythm of your guitar breaking through the noise of the bar like it had always belonged there. Or maybe it was later, when you leaned against the counter after your set, the faint scent of cologne mixing with the sound of your laughter as you asked for a drink.

Whatever it was, it stuck. It followed him home that night, threaded through his thoughts in a way that made him stop and linger. He hadn’t been looking for it, but somehow it was there anyway.

So in all fairness, he’d just say: you.

The bar had never been as busy as it was now. What used to be a quiet, tucked-away corner of town had turned into the kind of place people flocked to, filling up every table before the sun had fully set. And it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

You had been playing here for months, ever since Atsumu brought you around. You’d just been getting your start then, taking whatever gigs you could to put herself out there. The first night you performed, the bar was still in its quiet days, with a handful of regulars who didn’t look up from their drinks. But now? The place was packed every night, the crowd buzzing with anticipation before you even stepped on stage.

And Rintarou couldn’t blame them.

You were the kind of performer who didn’t just play a song but lived in it, pulling everyone else in with you. People came to hear your music, sure, but Rintarou knew it wasn’t just that. They came for you, for the easy confidence you carried yourself with, for the kind of beauty that felt effortless. He’d overheard the whispers at the bar, the way people leaned in to talk about you like you weren’t just a person but an event they were lucky to witness.

He’d seen it too, the way you made every little detail your own. The dark-red guitar slung over your shoulder like it had been built just for you, the way your fingers moved so fluidly across the frets it seemed like muscle memory. Tonight, you were using the pick he gave you a few weeks ago. A small thing, black with faint scratches from years of use, and you’d refused to take it without making him kiss it first.

“For luck,” you’d said, grinning at him like it was nothing. But the way you looked at him before walking on stage—that linger—made him feel like it was something.

Maybe that’s why last night felt so surreal.

It wasn’t something you’d planned, not something either of you seemed ready for. One moment you were talking, standing close enough for your shoulders to brush, and the next your lips were on his, your hands in his hair, and everything else had fallen away. It had been impulsive, charged, and absolutely impossible to forget.

But now, you were on stage again, starting a new song, and Rintarou couldn’t shake the weight of what hadn’t been said since then. You hadn’t talked, hadn’t even texted. The tension hung in the air like the bassline of your song, subtle but impossible to ignore.

“Am I seductive?”

As the first notes spilled out into the room, your gaze found his. It was direct, unflinching, and it hit him harder than it should have. You sang like you always did, but tonight it was different. Every word felt heavier, your voice wrapping around him like it wasn’t meant for anyone else.

You didn’t look away. Neither did he.

God, what he would do to have you in his hold again. Those goddamned eyes of yours would get him into serious trouble one day.

The song spilled from your lips like a secret, low and deliberate, pulling everyone in until the hum of conversation around the bar faded to nothing. It wasn’t just the sound of your voice or the skill in your hands; it was the way you owned the moment. Every note, every pause between lyrics, felt like it was exactly where it needed to be.

“I’m not done yet, please kiss my neck--”

The red guitar gleamed under the dim stage lights, its body catching faint streaks of gold and purple. Rintarou’s gaze trailed to your hands--

“--let’s go for another round, I hate who this song is about--”

--the way your fingers brushed over the strings like you’d been born with it in your grasp. And there it was again—that stupid pick he’d kissed for you.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair as he tried not to make it obvious that he hadn’t looked away from you once.

These lyrics hit differently tonight. It wasn’t a song he knew-- probably a new composition-- but the words stuck in his chest, heavy and deliberate.

“You’re in my head-”

Your lips curved into the faintest smile as you sang the line, and Rintarou’s pulse stuttered like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. God, did you know what you were doing to him?

“You’re in my head--”

The room felt smaller, like the two of you were caught in some invisible thread that refused to break. The way your voice dipped, the soft flick of your gaze toward him—it wasn’t just performing. It was like you were talking to him, saying all the things you hadn’t last night.

His hand curled into a fist against his thigh, the urge to stand up and pull you off that stage almost too much to ignore. He could imagine it too vividly—the way your eyes would widen in surprise, the way your lips might press into his again, this time without hesitation.

The song ended with a soft hum, your voice trailing off into the kind of silence that demanded applause. And the bar answered, erupting into cheers and whistles, but Rintarou couldn’t bring himself to join in. Not yet.

You stepped back from the mic, brushing a hand through your hair as you glanced out over the crowd. And for a moment, he thought it was over—that you’d let the spell break and move on to your next song.

But then your gaze found his again, and you tilted your head toward the side door at the edge of the room. Subtle, but enough.

He got up without thinking, his chair scraping against the floor as he made his way toward the door.

The air outside hit him first—cool and sharp against his skin. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to play it off like he wasn’t already hanging onto every second of this.

A moment later, you stepped out, guitar slung over your shoulder, the faint glow of the bar’s neon lights casting a halo over your hair.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you teased, leaning against the brick wall.

His mouth opened, but the words felt tangled up in his throat. He didn’t know where to start—last night, tonight, the way you looked at him like you were daring him to close the space between you.

You took a step closer, your hand slipping into your pocket. When you pulled it out, you were holding the pick. The one he’d given you, the one he’d kissed like an idiot, because how could he ever say no to you?

You held it out to him with a grin, the guitar pick catching the faint neon glow of the streetlights. “Didn’t work this time.”

“What didn’t?” he asked, though he already had a feeling.

“Your good luck charm,” you said, shaking the pick for emphasis. The small plastic piece made a light clinking sound against your nails. “You didn’t even clap. I think you jinxed it.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound low and strained. His shoulders dropped just slightly, the tension that had been coiled so tightly in his chest loosening by a thread. “You don’t need luck. You’re already…”

His words stalled in the crisp night air, his throat tightening around the word that came to mind. Perfect.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking behind your soft smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching as he took the pick from your hand. He turned it over, feeling its smooth surface press into his callused fingertips. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

You stepped closer, and the lightest hint of your perfume drifted his way—a sharp, citrusy note with a soft undercurrent of something floral. It pulled at him in a way he couldn’t explain. Your voice dropped, teasing but not harsh. “Fine?”

“Don’t do that,” he muttered, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Do what?”

“Make me nervous.”

Your smile curled into something wicked, your eyes glinting with amusement. You weren’t going to let him off easy.

Tilting your head, you leaned in, and now you were so close he could feel the faint warmth radiating from your skin. The air between you carried a tension he didn’t know how to name, an invisible thread pulling tighter with every second.

“Am I?” you asked softly, your voice weaving into the cool night like a secret only the two of you could hear.

“Are you what?” he croaked, his voice betraying him.

“Making you nervous.”

The slight lift of your lips was devastating. Teasing, yes, but there was a tenderness underneath, like you were testing the waters rather than just pushing him in.

His throat worked, but no words came. All he could focus on was the way your gaze held his—like you were daring him to look away.

“Why’d you call me out here?” he finally rasped, the words coming out more gruffly than he intended.

Your eyes flicked to the pick still resting in his hand before meeting his again. “Because I thought we had something to talk about.”

The weight of your words landed squarely in his chest, making his pulse quicken.

“Last night,” he said, his voice steadier now, though his heart was anything but. “You mean that.”

You nodded, and your expression softened, the sharp edges of your teasing fading into something warmer. “Yeah. That.”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, the cool night air biting at his fingertips. “It wasn’t just me, was it?”

“No,” you replied, your voice firm but gentle. “It wasn’t just you.”

The truth hung there, suspended between you. The air seemed heavier now, as if it were holding its breath.

“You didn’t text,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could catch them. “I thought maybe…”

“Maybe I regretted it?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, then nodded once.

You sighed, your head tipping back against the wall behind you. The brick scraped faintly against the fabric of your jacket, the sound quiet but grounding. “Rin, I didn’t regret it. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Me neither,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But now we’re here, so…”

“So?” you prompted, arching a brow. “I think I said a lot a few minutes ago…”

“So, I’m saying something.” He stepped closer, his voice firmer now, his hand tightening around the pick in his grasp. “I don’t know what this is, but I know I don’t want to mess it up.”

For a moment, you simply studied him, your expression unreadable. And then your lips curved into a small smile—not mischievous or teasing, but something quieter, something real.

“You’re such a dumbass,” you said, shaking your head.

He let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension crackling in the air. “You’re one to talk.”

“Maybe.” Your hand brushed his—the one still clutching the pick—and lingered just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your skin. “But you’re my dumbass, right?”

His breath caught, the words hitting him harder than they should have.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Your grin widened just slightly, but the light in your eyes was softer now. Leaning in, you closed the remaining distance between you, your face so close he could feel the faint warmth of your breath against his skin.

“Good,” you murmured, and before he could overthink it, you kissed him.

It was softer this time, deliberate, like you weren’t in any rush. His free hand found your waist, the fabric of your jacket rough under his palm as the pick slipped from his fingers and landed on the pavement with a quiet click.

The world faded into the background—the distant hum of neon lights, the faint rustle of leaves in the wind, the cool bite of the air. There was only you and him, and the way you fit so perfectly in his arms.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested lightly against his, your breath mingling with his in the small space between.

“Guess your luck wasn’t so bad after all,” you murmured, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

“Guess not,” he replied, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly, as if to anchor himself in this moment.

For once, the silence between you wasn’t heavy or uncertain. It simply was—steady, comfortable, and right.

a/n: i love him sm omg

[cannedcrow]

Redrew my Etho for Arbitrary Darkness ฅ•ω•ฅ

[izvmimi]

malevolent enterprise ch. 6

cw: ceo!au. you, the reader, make a name for yourself at Itadori Enterprises. header by @/cafekitsune! masterlist

In less than a month, your reputation at headquarters begins to precede you. 

There’s a break room in the executive suite of offices that’s not meant to be used often, particularly since all of you have personal assistants, yours a plucky, young girl who seems eager to work far more than you remember to use her, named Misato. You manage to escape her to pour your own coffee, wondering if you should find a reason to give her the afternoon off. You have trouble with directly managing subordinates at times, particularly if she’s not actually in your domain.

Once you are two to three sips in your coffee, another one of your co-executives slips in, the musclehead who works a door down. You don’t really know him very well, but he’s so overtly friendly that it’s hard to keep him at arm’s length.

“Hey,” you offer as polite yet casual a greeting you can offer. He, in turn, gives you a sly look before moving towards one of the cupboards and pulling out a tub of protein that practically shakes the counter as he drops it on the counter. Scooping out enough protein to match that of a small cow into a bottle of Perrier, enough to make you wrinkle your nose, he chuckles to himself, before turning to you, stirring with his finger.

Unrefined.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He asks, laughing. 

Mr. Todo’s dark eyes practically sparkle with mirth as he teases you. You tilt your head, pretending not to know what he’s talking about, but you’re well aware of what he’s referring to. The firmness you displayed with the board of trustees in the 9am meeting this morning had bordered on aggressive, especially bold given that you were new, and this was your first in-person meeting with them. By the time you were done rebutting the second biggest donor’s unrealistic demands, using words like ‘set better expectations’ and ‘consider reviewing the literature’, Yuuji looked almost as shocked as Mrs. Yokohama herself, and Aoi was two seconds from howling in laughter. Nobara, the third exec in your meeting, had looked up from her phone, finally finding something more entertaining in real life, than whatever was in social media. Yuuji’s secretary was actively shaking.

“I don’t know what you were referring to.” You lie.

Todo finishes stirring and downs nearly the entire bottle in a long series of gulps and you find yourself distracted by just how quickly his Adam’s apple bobs with the activity, wondering how he doesn’t choke.

“You know they could just pull out their investments, right?” He finally says after a refreshed sigh.

You roll your eyes.

“If the simple act of asking investors to be engaged with their investments in a reasonable way, and not just demanding arbitrary results with no frame of reference is considered disrespectful, what exactly is the point of these meetings?”

“I’m just saying, even I wouldn’t have bothered,” he replies. You scoff, and he takes the opportunity to take the armchair next to you, separated by a small end table, on which you place your coffee. He turns, leaning towards you, and you’re struck with a whiff of his cologne, preparing to be offended but realizing you like the smell despite yourself. 

“Yuuji is simply too nice,” you say.

“Yeah. He is. It’s part of his charm,” Todo replies, grinning. You purse your lips, but Todo nods, as though enticing you to agree. “You get sick of working with bastards after a while. When his brother used to work here, it took all of me not to go to blows constantly. Whooping one of these prettyboys’ asses isn’t exactly great for my resume.”

You stifle a laugh.

“I’m surprised Yuuji is that different from his brother supposedly.” The coffee is too sweet, even for you, and you start to wish you’d asked Misato to do a Starbucks run instead. Perhaps she still can.

“You couldn’t imagine they’re from the same womb. One of them is probably adopted, I’d pay money to see that scandal. Sukuna is much more like the old man though.”

You adjust yourself in your seat, not ready to leave to work again yet, but also not sure where this conversation will take you. Todo’s pulled out his phone by now, and is watching a loud video, and when you peek closer, you realize it’s an idol concert.

“Takada?” You ask. Todo’s neck snaps so quickly in your direction, you’re practically concerned.

“You know?!”

You give him an odd look.

“I mean she is a celebrity…”

Todo grins. “We went on a date last month. She doesn’t realize she’s in love with me yet.”

You nod slowly, and make a mental note to expect a restraining order being served to the executive suite in the coming months.

“She’s pretty,” you mention, likely in order to lessen the guilt already forming because of your negative thought.

“I know,” he says, nearly flippantly, and he practically beams at the phone. It’s so genuine, you decide to adjust your thinking, rooting for him instead. 

You rise, deciding you should probably get back to work. “If Takada and I ever cross paths, I’ll put in a good word for you, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t look up. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re soulmates. I don’t need it.”

For some reason, this actually makes you chuckle.

“Right.” You turn to leave, and can’t help a giggle as you leave the suite and return to your own office.

Back in your own office, you settle down, letting your feet stretch out beneath your desk, and then once looking around kick off your pumps. You let yourself relax.

There’s a text from your old boss that was sent this morning, and annoyed you when you first saw it, but now, realizing that in your first few weeks of sink and swim, you’ve not only swam but you’re big fish on campus, you venture to reply.

How’s the new job? Gojo Satoru’s text says..

Swell. Next time don’t send my resume to your friend, however sweet the gig is. 

Or they are, you think but don’t add to your text.

You look at your phone for a moment, and consider that he’s probably in a hot tub in Cabo, and has no idea what the fuck you’re on about. But three more seconds pass and you can see a typing bubble. You grit your teeth, natural irritation returning, and it doesn’t abate when he sends you a sticker of a cat sticking its tongue out, sparkles surrounding it. 

Yuuji thinks you’re amazing, just like I said you were.

You wrinkle your nose. The idea of Gojo saying anything nice about you makes your stomach turn, and then you think about Yuuji nodding and agreeing and it makes it turn slightly worse, but in a different fashion.

How about you never discuss me from now on? I’m not a charity case.

Gojo sends a sad sparkly cat this time and you blow air through your nose, admittedly somewhat amused. You have a few more questions to ask him about exactly how much convincing was involved in your far-too-swift hiring, but Misato suddenly knocks on your door and you decide to table your bullying for later. Pushing your phone to the side, you ask her to come in. 

“Ms. Kugisaki called to see if you looked like you’d be free for happy hour.”

You wonder why she doesn’t just text you, then remember you’ve dodged happy hour three times in a row, and give Misato a reassuring smile.

“Absolutely.”

You’ll take all the allies - rather, friends - you can get.

[irradiatedsnakes]

today on "putting an excessive amount of effort into furry au designs", here's reigen's Seasonal Variants as promised! see under the cut for plumage/molt talk

molts are the processes of shedding & regrowing feathers. a plumage is a "set" of feathers- for birds that turn a different color/pattern during a certain parts of the year, they have two adult plumages: basic plumage, also called winter or nonbreeding plumage (generally duller), and alternate plumage, also called summer or breeding plumage (generally more flashy).

(generally speaking, this is not universal) the prebasic molt happens in the summer/fall and involves all the feathers being replaced, including the flights (primary and secondary wing feathers) and retrices (tail feathers). if a bird has an alternate plumage, the prebasic molt in late winter/early spring changes the plumage from basic to alternate ahead of the breeding season, and is a partial molt (only some feathers being replaced).

SO. for this. nice brand new feathers in the fall, and in the prealternate molt he swaps out the dark brown 'vest' and dull orangey back feathers for iridescent blue-black, and the rest of the dull orangey body feathers are swapped for that nice bright reigen orange. the flights and retrices aren't swapped, and by the middle of the year have worn somewhat and are a bit duller, as opposed to the more saturated, darker color that the fresh feathers are in the basic plumage.

the iridescent blue-black is the actual color of microraptor (we know this because of fossil pigment cells! isnt that fun)- i still wanted to prominently feature reigen's hair color, though, so this is a fantasy made up coloration/patterning. i wanted to do an under/upper belly split since the beginning cus i just like how it looks, and the spotting/barring is based on hawks in general, with the potting around the neck and chest being referenced from ornate hawk-eagles specifically. no thematic reason for those choices, just aesthetic.

the timing of his molts up there is arbitrary biologically- but i wanted it to line up so he'd be molting to the basic plumage around the separation arc- i think the first time we'd see him in full basic plumage would be right around the press conference. a look behind his flashy exterior, so to speak! while not an exact match, i also wanted his basic plumage to be somewhat evocative of his manga colors.

[nitewrighter]

What Large Teeth You Have

Seeing the Genji and Mercy Knight and Dragon skins made me realize it's been a hot minute since I've last done a fairytale AU. Also WOW! This one turned out to be almost 10k words!! CW for animal death because this is pseudo-medieval land which means critters get eaten.

----

"I mean, of course you're a girl dragon! 'Cause, you're just reeking of feminine beauty."

--Source unknown

----

Genji frowned at the bounty board. Behind him, the tavern was quiet, dust motes hanging in the early afternoon light streaming through the windows. Come sunset it would be full of the usual boisterous bands of adventurers, their drunken boasts, and even more drunken brawls, and then their drunken tearing down of local bounties, so he preferred to come in before all that.

"Are you sure this is everything?" he glanced over his shoulder at the tavernkeeper, who was sleepily polishing a flagon.

"Eh?" the tavern keeper glanced up at him.

"Are these all of the available bounties posted?"

"If't ain't on th' board, 'tain't worth doin'," said the tavern keeper, returning his attention to the flagon.

"Really?" Genji yanked one flier off of the board, "'Kill the dreaded six headed possum that's taken over my rubbish heap?'" he yanked another flier off the board, "Find my prized goat with two extra nipples?"

"T'ain't on th' board, 'tain't worth doin'," the tavern keeper said again.

"Counting goat nipples is not a valorous deed," Genji said sullenly.

"Them's fully functioning nipples, from what I heard, they are," the tavernkeeper said, whipping his polishing cloth at Genji in admonition.

"Surely this can't be it!" said Genji.

"Genji, Genji, Genji," a voice tutted and Genji's shoulders slumped. He pivoted where he stood to see a figure with dark spiky hair and pointed ears in a blue tunic.

"...Lena..." he grunted.

"You know what your problem is?" Tracer strolled right next to him and took the fliers from both his hands, "You think an adventure is all... fanfare and bravery and blood and grand deeds, when really it's about the little things."

"...like goat nipples," he said flatly.

"Like answering the call!" said Tracer, stuffing the fliers into her own belt, "No matter how small! Letting the realm know you care about them!"

"If you want to find random animals for people who likely cannot tell their heads from their buttocks, by all means," Genji folded his arms, "My sword thirsts for glory."

"'My sword thirsts for glory,'" Tracer imitated his timbre with a mocking flail of her hands. "Welp. My coin purse thirsts for commission. So with that I'll be off."

"I bet the possum doesn't even have six heads!" Genji called after her. She just flailed an arm up in an 'I don't care' gesture of goodbye before heading out the door.

He leafed underneath the more recent ones, knowing that if those ones hadn't been taken, they were likely just as arbitrary as the goat and possum, and indeed, they were. Jobs that were little more than being hired muscle for petty disputes of dubious legality, jobs that seemed to amount to courier work with equally dubious legality, one that had definitely been written out by a child apparently dealing with some bullies, a dragon cult in the ashlands to the west, pest control for a local mill--

Wait, what was that last one?

Genji seized a flier off of the board with interest and read it.

By Order of Duke Engel of Sinteroth

Reward!

Adventurers of able body and sound mind needed to clear Castle Ziegler of the dreaded cultists of the Order of the Emerald Flame, and rescuing the Duke's ward, Lady Angela, from their clutches.

The adventurer successful in ending the threat of the dragon cultists is welcome to as much of the cultists' treasures as they can carry, as well as an official reward 500 Gold sovereigns, the ownership of a 20-acre plot of land, and the title of 'Baron.'

"What do you know about this one?" Genji held the flier up to the tavern keeper.

"Eh?" the tavern keeper bumbled over and squinted at the flier, "Ah, shite. Meant to take that one down."

"Take it down? Why?" Genji tilted his head.

"Word is, Engel died not long after the Lady Angela was kidnapped--nerves or heart or some such thing--and his heir, his nephew y'see, had no interest in giving away so much of his father's wealth for a ward who would only be a potential rival for his own succession. So there's no reward now--no gold or land or titles. Ye'd be headin' into whatever horrid black magic them cultists been cookin' up for nothin' but whatever fell trinkets they have scattered around, and a highborn orphan shrew--if'n she's still alive, that is. Which is doubtful."

"...so they just... let the cultists have that castle," Genji tilted his helmeted head.

"No one's fixin' to kick a hornet's nest--not without an offer of 500 gold and barony, that is."

"I have no desire for land, gold, or titles," said Genji (this was perhaps only 60% true), "I shall reclaim Castle Ziegler from the cultists, so the shadow of their dark magic no longer threatens the realm." With that, he dramatically rolled up the bounty flier and stuck it in his satchel.

"I mean, as long as the flier doesn't stay up--" the tavern keeper shrugged but Genji had already swept around into a heroic stride out the door.

"I go to seek my destiny!" he declared, "Wish me luck!"

"The flier did call for 'Sound mind' you know!" the tavern keeper called after him.

"Thank you!" said Genji, who hadn't heard him and definitely interpreted his yell as some variation of 'good luck.'

The tavern keeper just awkwardly waved after him. "Poor sod," he muttered under his breath.

----

The journey to the ashlands was long and arduous and more than once did Genji feel a bit foolish riding out so far for a quest he knew little about, save that there was no actual certain reward. Even his own promise to himself that he would at least have a good story to bring back home seemed dubious. But then again, he figured if all of Tracer's claims were to be believed, then this truly was adventure for its own sake. Storming castles, slaying dark mages, rescuing fair maidens, the parts were there, but doubt set in more and more the closer he got to the ashlands.

Days and nights he rode, deeper and deeper into the west. Traversing plains, clambering up and over mountains, fording rivers, sleeping under the stars or shivering in lean-tos. He was guided by the stars, by the wind, by the growing scent of smoke in the air. Any living soul he came across, he asked about everything they knew about Castle Ziegler, about the cult of the Emerald Flame, and about the Lady Angela.

"They're old wizards, I know that much," said an elderly tinker at a farming village where Genji spent the night in a barn. "Used to conduct their nasty rituals at the old stone circles in the hills. Don't rightly know if it was them what put them stones up, but I remember seeing their fires blazing on the hills on starless nights as a lad. Mothers wouldn't let their children out of the house after dark in those days. The taking of Castle Ziegler and the kidnapping of Lady Angela—that's the most any of us have heard of 'em in a while."

"Bloody charlatans giving a nasty name to all other magic users in the land, that's all they are," said a traveling wizard Genji shared the road with for a few leagues, "Did you know they're worshipping a mistranslation? They claim their dragon god Vernihiloth was banished to the infernal plane, but a proper translation and proper historical context indicates that Vernihiloth was slain. Not the first fools to worship a dead god, but they could at least be less of a nuisance about it." He caught himself. "Not that I would call the kidnapping of the dead Duke's ward a 'nuisance' mind you!"

"The Lady Angela?" A traveling merchant said, as he and Genji rode in the back of a wagon together (Genji offering his protection to the caravan in exchange for a ride to give his own horse a break, of course), "I've seen her a few times. Beautiful, but curious woman. Always asking me for new books. Dreadful, what happened to her."

"Her parents threw their lot in with the wrong lord," an old mercenary said as he and Genji hunched over bowls of rabbit and pease pottage, huddled under tarps as a miserable drizzle rained down a few nights later. "They were just a breadbasket for that uprising. Hardly raised swords, themselves, but were executed for treason all the same."

"She came to the Duke a sad and hollow creature," a bard explained at an inn a few days after that, "But quickly grew into a lady of surpassing beauty and intelligence. Still, her parentage would more or less doom her to the life of a spinster."

"We all knew old duke treasured her, but she had a soft spot for us smallfolk," said a shepherd in a field Genji was riding through, "She had a gift for the healing arts and would ride out to the villages to help set bones or mix medicines."

"I saw 'em grab her!" a boy of no older than 11 declared while Genji was having a farrier look at his horse in another village, "They killed her horse! And then she was kickin' and yellin' and I think she stabbed one only I dunno if I can say that since highborn ladies oughtn't be stabbin' people!! I ran to get grownups, but by the time I was able to get them to come, they were all gone..."

"The Old Duke did attempt to ransom her, and later sent the finest of his personal guard after her... neither attempt ended well." a weaver woman said, not looking up from Genji's trousers as she was darning them, "First they sent back the hands of the messenger, then they sent back his guards' heads. Most have kept well away from Castle Ziegler since then. Haven't heard any word from the village near it, either. The current duke would rather see the whole thing forgotten than even look."

"I shudder to think of what those cultists would want with her," said a traveling cleric, "Black magic like that---no one wants to say virgin sacrifice, but that might be a more merciful fate than other alternatives."

Genji did not question much on the Lady Angela after that. And as he rode further along, the fewer and further between the villages and travelers got. The problem with saying you're going to do something, and punctuate it with a phrase like 'I go to seek my destiny' is that the closer and closer you get to that destiny, the more you realize its ramifications. Genji became increasingly conscious of the fact that this was not a valorous story, if it would be anything, it would be bringing closure to a very sad story.

Still, the ashlands weren't nearly as bleak as their name suggested. Rather than bleak gray flatlands, Genji found himself in rolling, forested hills shaded by massive ash and maple trees, their seeds fluttering down like fairies in leaf-dappled light. For all its beauty, though, there was a distinct loneliness that seemed to hang in the air. Perhaps it was the ancientness of the trees, or perhaps it was the other features of the land. True to the tinker's words, some hilltops had been cleared of trees and were crowned with stone circles. They hardly seemed like structures that would have been erected by the cultist's predecessors, it seemed to Genji more likely that they would simply co-opt these ancient stones without any knowledge of their original spiritual purpose. It was in one of these stone hill circles that Castle Ziegler finally came into view. Here now, was a place that matched the name of 'ashlands.'

Perhaps before the cultists had moved in, it had been much like everything else here—tall, and lonely, and old, and lovely, maybe with a village clustered around it—but now it was a blackened craggy ruin, several of its towers collapsed, jutting itself up from a nearly acre-wide radius of scorched earth and the sharp black shards of what used to be trees. Genji's horse nickered nervously.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, old friend," said Genji, stroking the horse's neck (though he had largely made peace with the fact that there would be nothing gained regardless of what was ventured at this point.)

Genji walked, for some reason it felt wrong to ride in, as close as they were, until they reached the edge of the blackened earth, where the grass was brown and dead with what must have been a blast of instantly drying heat. Genji looked at the castle, surrounded by the charred remains of trees and buildings, then looked back at his horse.

"You need not go any further," he said, stroking the horse's muzzle, "I can take it from here."

The horse gave a low rumble of a nicker and a wary look at the castle as if to say, 'Good, because there's no way in hell I'm going in there,' and Genji gave him another pat on the neck before going forward. The ashen soil was soft beneath his feat, and tinged his boots black and gray and white, making his movement toward the castle completely silent.

Genji moved low, darting behind various burnt-out building frames and peeking out from behind them as he drew closer and closer to the castle. He scanned the castle's towers and ramparts for spies and archers and saw... nothing. He still kept his furtive approach, regardless, though feeling slightly more stupid doing it. Just because you couldn't see archers, didn't mean they weren't there. But for all his caution he still found himself at the blasted-open-from-the-inside remains of the main portcullis. He could hear the low sighs of the breeze bouncing around the interior of the ruined castle, and somewhere from deep within, a rumble. Genji swallowed hard and drew his sword.

"I go to seek my destiny," he said very softly to himself, stepping over the stones and twisted iron grate, into the shadows of the ruined castle. Ash and dust motes lingered in the air in massive shafts of light from the blasted-out parts of the ceiling overhead, and instantly something crunched beneath Genji's foot. He glanced down to see he had stepped through a blackened ribcage of a twisted human skeleton.

It was not the first human remains he had seen in his adventures, but he noticed something hanging around the skeleton's neck. He stooped and picked it up, brushing off some soot with his thumb. Miraculously it hadn't been melted down, but it appeared to be an amulet featuring a dragon's roaring face with startlingly bright green jewels for eyes, ringed in runes. He probably should have asked that wizard more about the whole 'worshipping a mistranslation' thing, but he was used to adventures where you sort of go off of 40% of what random strangers are saying. So all he did was go "Hm," before pocketing the amulet.

He gingerly stepped around a mess of blackened skeletons, and his eyes scanned the walls where the shadows of human shapes were outlined in what must have been a blast of smoke and soot. Somehow that made him shudder more than the actual skeletons on the ground. He had run into his share of magicians who had bitten off more than they could chew in his adventures as well, but something this widespread, something this indiscriminate, something this seemingly all-consuming and instant, made his blood run cold. In an ironic way he wished he was currently slashing his way through cultists and dodging out of the way of spells and crossbow bolts--that was something he could deal with, that was something he could recognize.

Deeper he went into the castle, glancing around at the positioning of the skeletons. They all seemed pointed toward the exit, in that same way the portcullis had seemed blasted outward. They had been fleeing something. He passed under a doorway leading to a large chamber where a massive stone staircase framed the room, but between and the staircase was a massive hole in the floor. Carefully, Genji edged toward the hole to peer down into its depths. He had a length of rope on his person, if he found something to anchor himself to, he might be able to--

The floor gave way beneath him. His free arm flailed out and gripped the edge of the chasm, leaving his legs dangling over the darkness below and his sword gleaming against the blackness. The rocks that had fallen beneath him were tumbling into the depths below and he heard them land far too far down with more cracks and rumbles. With a grunt he tossed his sword up onto what was hopefully more solid ground, and swung his body around to grip the edge with his sword hand.

He froze at the sound of a deep rumbling far below him. The sheer vulnerability he felt hanging there was enough to make his palms slick with sweat, but he steeled himself.

Just the stones settling, he told himself, hauling himself out of the chasm. A few more stones were collapsing in at the edge and he quickly picked up his sword and scrambled away from it. He was catching his breath as the continued cracks of the stones below once again gave way to the gentle moan of wind through the ruins. He was checking his sword for nicks on its edge from the throw, when the rumbling sound came again. And then there was another sound, that wasn't quite the moan of wind through the ruins, nor the rumble of settling stone, and Genji slowly, silently got to his feet. The sound came again, a warm sound, a living sound, but a sound that was unlike any animal he had ever heard before. His feet were already backing away from the chasm, his sword gripped in both hands. He briefly considered saying 'I go to seek my destiny' again to calm his nerves from whatever was in that pit, but at the same time, he knew for all their evil and cruelty, his flesh wasn't any more fireproof than the cultist skeletons that littered this place.

A massive green scaled limb suddenly jutted up and out of the chasm and slammed claws as big as Genji's forearm into the stones in front of him, sending up a spray of dust and stone and ash. A furious flood of regret rushed through Genji's mind. Forget destiny, all common sense told him, Fuck destiny. You are going to die here. Run. Run now. Run. Just run--

But Genji's legs were frozen in place as a vast shape hauled itself up out of the pit.

Genji was aware of dragons. At least in concept. To him they just seemed like something people tossed into a story to make it sound grander. He had understood that the Order of the Emerald Flame was a dragon cult, that is, a cult that worshipped a dragon. But staring up at it, at the golden lobster-plating of its stomach, of the glittering green-gold scales shifting over powerful legs and expansive, bat-like wings, of the furious eyes, like molten peridot, the ivory horns and rows of massive gleaming white dagger-sized fangs, backlit by glowing embers at the back of the creature's maw, this then when he realized this was the source of that instant, all-consuming blast that had scoured this castle and the lands around for nearly an acre. This was that fell shaper of the twisted skeletons that had tried to flee this place. This was that cruel painter of the human shapes blasted into the walls. Staring at this creature, all wings and scales and sinew and claws and fire, glaring down at him with those furious eyes before raising its jagged jaws skyward in an earsplitting cry, was when he realized: Oh. This is their god.

He stared up at the dragon and it stared down at him, its throat rumbling. Genji's eyes settled on a jagged collar of black iron around the dragon's neck, where a green gem that must have been the size of his own head gleamed at him like a third, cruel eye. Genji held his sword at the ready. Facing down cultists would have definitely been more preferable, and yet, all the same, this was what he had hoped for when he was scanning that stupid tavern board what seemed like another lifetime ago (It was like a week and a half). He steadied himself, rolling his fingers along his sword's hilt. I go to seek my dest---

The whack of the dragon's tail sent him flying, then bouncing along the floor, before finally slamming hard into a wall with a grunt. He practically peeled off the wall and flopped in a heap on the stone floor. He heard a short ting ting ting of metal bouncing away from him--too small to be his sword, and he knew he still had a death-grip on the hilt. There were stars in his vision from the impact as he glanced up to see the amulet he had picked up now rolling like an oversized coin before tilting and spinning onto its flat side with a faint, ringing rattle. He heard a growling, questioning noise from the dragon, and then a short huff of its nostrils. Genji hauled himself up to his elbows to see the dragon, a ways away from him (How far had that tail strike threw him?). The dragon's head was held in catlike alertness, and Genji saw a few feet in front of him was the amulet he had picked up earlier. It must have fallen out when he hit the wall. The dragon didn't seem to have the same furious contempt in its eyes, but rather an animalistic alarm, its attention completely fixed on the amulet. The gem on its collar was thrumming with a green glow. Genji wasn't sure what instinct drove him to scramble forward and seize the amulet once more before the dragon lunged forward for it, but he thanked the gods for the surge of adrenaline that let him push himself up to his feet and run away as fast as he possibly could. The dragon took in a breath and blasted fire at him.

It's really remarkable how the immediate fear of imminent, flaming death makes your own disappointment in yourself seem very muted. As he sprinted and dipped out of the way of deluge after deluge of roaring cascade of flames as the dragon leapt and lumbered and twisted after him, Genji was not thinking 'This isn't valorous at all, I won't be able to tell a story about this.' His line of thought was more along the lines of 'Please don't let there be more fire around this corner. Please don't let me be running into tail or jaws.' Every time the dragon's powerful clawed feet made contact with the stone floor, dust was shaken down from the ceiling and the vibration in the ground nearly made Genji stumble himself. He was in that wide-legged, mad dash where you seem inches from crashing and falling for all your desperation, yet somehow your own momentum seems to barely keep you upright. The dragon blasted fire again and Genji dodged in a roll out of its way. He raced around columns and the dragon seemingly turned on a dime to twist after him, jaws snapping. He desperately struck back against a swipe of its claws, but the claws on steel set it ringing in a way that warned the next strike would make his sword shatter. He leapt over a pile of rubble and huddled against the ground as fire blasted over his head and sent stones tumbling down around him. He even scrambleed up the half-ruined stairs circling the dragon's pit, and with a beat of its wings knocking against the walls and sending hot air and soot and dust everywhere, the dragon was right after him, its jaws snapping behind him. He pivoted on his heel and finally struck at the dragon's snout with his sword. It flinched back and snarled, perhaps not expecting this much fight from something that had been so desperately fleeing it before, but then Genji felt the air getting sucked around him--the dragon was drawing in a breath. He leapt out from the stairs and barely managed to slide down a ceiling column as the fire blasted after him.

His one advantage was that he was relatively small, agile, and capable of breaking the dragon's visual fix on him by virtue of his own erratic movements and hiding behind rubble and dodging over half-collapsed walls. He was an adventurer, he knew how to use his environment to his advantage, even if it wasn't exactly brave. Clever was better than brave, at a time like this. He heard the dragon's breath catching in his throat, that rumble shifting in the room behind him as the dragon's neck swayed this way and that, searching for him. He fled down a corridor to catch what little breath he could in an increasingly hot castle, but could hear the dragon lumbering toward the entryway and ruined portcullis to cut off his only known means of escape.

Genji wondered how long he could stay in this castle before all the heat bouncing off of the stones would cook him alive. He wondered how long he could keep his helmet on until his brain cooked. Maybe it already had, otherwise he wouldn't still be caught up in trying to slay a dragon. He fled down a half-ruined corridor that he prayed was too narrow for the dragon to scramble into, but he knew he couldn't stay long. Eventually the dragon would stop guarding the exit, seek him out, and in an area this cramped he wouldn't be able to dodge his way out of a blast of fire.

He hastily yanked the amulet from the interior of his brigantine and tried to squint at it in the faint lights of the ruins. Why would it be so important to the dragon? He knew of dragon hordes, but the dragon had been chasing him all over the castle and he found no piles of gold anywhere. His mind flashed back to one quest he and Tracer had shared, when they had to defeat a lich that had taken over some local catacombs by destroying its reliquary. Genji wasn't much of a magic scholar, but he knew the lich was just as erratically obsessed with its reliquary as this dragon seemed to be with the amulet. If this was a beast that was brought here by tearing some sort of veil, much as the lich had by keeping itself alive through magic, then perhaps it needed an anchor. Perhaps that skeleton close to the door (back when it had flesh) was trying to get to a safe distance so it could use the amulet to take control of the dragon.

He set the amulet on the stone floor and hovered the tip of his sword over it. Like a lot of things he had done to get to this point, he felt somewhat foolish. He wasn't sure what breaking the amulet, if it could be broken, would do. At this point what logic he was able to put together in a brain flooded with adrenaline and dread, was that the dragon wanted the amulet, and if it was the evil god of an evil cult, it probably should not get the amulet. Further, Genji reasoned, if he got killed here, it would probably very easily retrieve it from his corpse, so he decided, whatever the amulet was to the dragon, he should remove that possibility. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a long breath, trying to will strength, rather than desperation, to his muscles. Then he plunged the sword down.

When he and Tracer had destroyed the lich's reliquary, there was a sort of expected outburst of evil magic—a great howling of the countless souls the lich had sacrificed to keep himself alive, a horrible upward whirling of black and violet spirals of smoke-like energy that smelled of foul death that he and Tracer had covered their nose and mouth at for fear it was poisonous. He wasn't sure what he expected when the sword split the amulet, but the reaction was definitely bigger than that. There was a great surging of green flames, splashing up from the fissure in the amulet like a great fountain, and an otherworldly scream. There was a voice in his head, cruel, and crackling, and ancient. It wasn't speaking the common tongue, or any tongue that Genji knew, and yet it seemed to pierce understanding through his psyche like a pike. 

YOU FOOL BOY, it snarled, WHAT HAVE YOU DO--

And all at once it seemed... sucked away. Suddenly pulled into a small, tight space where it shrunk into nonexistence. Genji winced, feeling a strange searing pain-that-wasn't-pain in his chest and across his sword arm. He opened one eye, then both, to see the amulet cracked in half, blackened and smoking on the ground. He then flinched to see the runes from the amulet now blazing along the blade of his sword, in green flames that faded to etchings in the steel, and green light spiraling along his sword arm. The very weight of it seemed different in his hand, now. The blade seemed to vibrate, not quite with that typical ringing impact of striking stone and metal, but with an otherworldly hum. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to sheathe the sword, and maybe to throw it in the nearest body of water and never see it again, but it was still his sword, and gods knew he wasn't about to be caught without his sword with a dragon about. He heard a distant, high roar of the dragon that almost seemed like a woman's shriek. So whatever the amulet was, it was affecting the dragon, somehow. Not knowing what he would find, he rushed toward the sound.

He found the dragon back in the main foyer of the castle, still blocking its exit as it has presumably planned, but it was thrashing and shrieking and flailing its head along its snake-like neck, still letting out that shriek-like roar. Genji's eyes flicked down to the hideous collar around the dragon's neck, now crackling with green bolts of electricity or something. The dragon continued thrashing around like it was being attacked by insects, until it fixed its eyes on Genji, and suddenly all that desperation seemed to be laser-focused into pure rage, pure rage at him. It drew in a long, furious breath, stilled to a tense, quivering, shape, shaking like a too-taut bow, its tail lashed out behind it.

No more running, a voice that wasn't quite Genji's, nor that strange tongue sounded from his chest. He brought up his sword as the dragon exhaled all of its fire in a roar. Genji squeezed his eyes shut, expecting instant searing death--but instead he felt a rush of heat, and heard his sword singing with that strange vibration again.

The dragon's breath blazed against the blade of his sword, the green runes singing and glowing as the fire split around him like a flooding river around a stone. He glanced around at the fire roaring around both sides of him in awe, then looked back at the dragon, still unleashing that furious breath. He wasn't sure what compelled him to twist his grip on the sword so that the flat of the blade faced the dragon--and then the flame pouring toward him bent. He could hear whispering in that tongue that he knew and didn't knew as his eyes scanned down the runes on his blade. For all the brightness of flames and runes, he wondered if he would be blinded. The dragon shrieked with surprise as its own breath came pouring back at it.

The whisper of the runes turned to a roar in his head again, in the tongue he should not have been able to understand:

YOU WOULD SET SOUL AGAINST BODY!?

But Genji anchored his legs and then pushed forward, he watched with equal parts wonder and horror as the bright glow of the runes along his sword sent out a smoke-like light that spiraled around his sword arm. There was that pain-that-was-not-pain again as he got closer and closer to the dragon's throat. The dragon had ceased its breath and swiped out at him with its claws, and he easily struck the claws back with his sword, it gnashed out at him with its razor teeth and he ducked and rolled out of the way. Now, he thought, pouncing out of his roll. He leapt toward the dragon's throat, as it reared its head back to try and snap at him again. He had no doubt that with these cruel runes running up the edge for this blade would have no problem biting into that lobster plating of the neck, maybe even severing the head, but at the last second, his eyes flicked down to the crackling ugly iron collar and its cruel green jewel. He wasn't sure why he heard Tracer's voice in his head at that point. It's about the little things. He swung his sword and it hewed into the gem with a strange, unnatural sound, like ice forming and cracking on a lake. The crack on the gem spread and crumbled and suddenly, there was a massive blast of magic as the gem shattered.

Genji was sent tumbling back once again--not flying, but bouncing, and this time quickly being stopped by the friction of the multiple skeletons crumbling beneath him each time he made contact with the floor--blackened bones crunching against his brigantine. He only barely pushed himself up to his hands and knees to look up at the dragon, swaying and screaming, as the iron collar crumbled off of its neck, before it finally collapsed onto the stone floor, kicking up a shockwave of dust and ash in all directions that sprayed Genji and sent him sputtering. He stayed there on his hands and knees, watching the dragon. Was its form... smoking? Was that from being blasted with its own breath?

Keeping himself low and ready, Genji edged toward the fallen dragon warily, sword still in hand, weakly spurting off the odd green spark. The percolating stillness of the dragon's form, the settling of the dust and ash after all their scrambling and clashing of sword and claw and blasts of magic, seemed to summon the adrenaline-suppressed exhaustion back to Genji's muscles. His mouth and throat were horribly dry, but his curiosity at the sight before him still managed to keep his collapse from exhaustion at bay.

The giant form of the dragon was burning away, scales crackling off of it and being borne aloft on the heat of its own flames. Green sparks rippled off of Genji's own sword. Heat waves blurred the air around it, and then the flames rose higher, burned denser and brighter, seemingly shrinking down, hotter, and hotter, until there was a white-hot shape at its core--the dragon's heart? Genji flinched as a rush of hot air hit him. Where the dragon had previously laid, was a woman, naked and covered in soot and scratches. Dead?

Her side rose and fell with a rasping breath. He made out fair hair, strong shoulders, wide hips, all dusted with scratches and ash like she had been shoved down a burnt hill.

"...Lady Angela?" he said after a few long beats.

She coughed and flinched from where she was laying down on the tiles--or at least the remains of the tiles. The heat had cracked the stone like a dried up riverbed, or even turned it red in some spots in some kind of pre-molten state. He instinctively wanted to grab her and yank her off of the stone for fear it would hurt her, but it didn't seem exactly chivalrous to just grab a naked woman, nor did she seem to even notice the heat. She pushed herself up to a half-collapsed position, "That..." her eyes trailed around the room, trying to gauge her surroundings, "That is me." She said those words as if her name was something she had forgotten for a long time, and she was just now picking it up off the ground and dusting it off. Her voice was thick and raw. All those roars--had she been screaming? Crying for help?

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Genji, glancing over his shoulder slightly so she could hear him better, but now depending on the way his helmet cut off his peripheral vision to keep from looking at her.

"They--they tied me down to the altar...They were singing this horrible song...about how their god would return..." her hand went to a point between her breasts. Genji averted his eyes as hard as he could "I--I felt the knife go through me. I felt my blood running out, and it felt like fire--I thought--I was feeling myself die, but something happened. Something went wrong or, something changed--Everything was burning. Everything. I couldn't see anything because everything was flames and then, suddenly... I was... big."

"Big," Genji repeated.

"Everything is so much in that shape..." she pressed her fingers to her forehead, "There was a voice in my head pushing me down... down... And... and I tried to leave. I couldn't stay here, something was wrong with me, but I couldn't leave. There--there was something around my neck...?" she felt at her throat. Her eyes widened. She had pulled herself up to a hunched over kneeling position at this point, and seemed a bit more... covered. "There was someone--" she cradled her forehead in her hand again, and then her head slowly raised. "You--Who are you?"

Out of pure valiant hero reflex, Genji pivoted around and started (with what would have been punctuated with a flourishing bow) "I am Gen--" he realized she was still naked and immediately swung around again and muttered, "Genji of Overland."

"Come again?" said Lady Angela, "You're a bit hard to hear in that helmet--and facing away from me."

"I am Genji of---Look, can we just--?" Genji yanked off his helmet and let it drop to his feet with a clank, then started furiously undoing the buckles of his brigantine, "It's not knightly to continue this discussion when you are in such a state."

"State...?" Lady Angela squinted, then glanced down at herself. She seemed to consider her own nudity with a vague concern, like there was probably something she should be remembering but was very close to coming to the conclusion of 'If it was important I wouldn't have forgotten it.'

"I have a cloak in my horse's saddlebags," Genji had gotten the brigantine off at this point, and it was clear his intention was giving Lady Angela his tunic to cover herself with, but he had now realized that the tunic had become completely plastered to his torso with sweat, due to previously running from blasts of fire. Her fire. "But I can't ask you to walk out there naked. And I can't exactly leave you to get the horse so--" He peeled off the tunic with no small amount of effort and was desperately flapping it to dry some of the sweat and stink out when he heard crackling behind him.

He flinched a glance over his shoulder to see Lady Angela looking at her hands, which were both on fire.

"No!" he stumbled toward her but then stopped when she glanced at him with a perfectly calm albeit reasonably confused expression. The flames were consuming her entire forearms, but just as suddenly as they had come, they disappeared, like they had been blown out by a strong breeze. Where the flames had been, were now plates and scales and claws at her fingertips, her whole forearms looking almost like gauntlets. Genji watched as Lady Angela seemed to burst into flame at her breasts and hips all with the same curious but unhurt expression. He watched with the sort of 'I should not be watching this' embarrassment as anyone might have of seeing a stranger dressing or undressing, and yet the whole process was so removed from any semblance of dressing, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Hoooow are you doing that?" asked Genji as scales sprouted across her stomach.

"I don't know," she said, as the flames died away, leaving a scrappy coverage of plates and scales over her torso that... could pass for clothes? Armor? Unfortunately he knew it was, technically her flesh, and was a little scared and embarrassed to ask if those scales were going to be there forever. "But is this better?" Her legs and most of her upper arms were bare, but she had seen fit to give herself clawed feet and scaled calves, that Genji hoped he would be able to convince people were very interesting boots.

"...I don't know," said Genji, after a beat.

Angela seemed to regard her surroundings with a bit more clarity now. "The men who took me..." she said vaguely, as if trying to remember, "Are any...?"

"There were none when I arrived," said Genji, "I mean they were all..." he trailed off, "There was only you. Alive."

She stared at him, and then glanced back at her own clawed and scale-gauntleted hands. "It felt like a dream..." she murmured.

"What was so important about the amulet, do you remember?" asked Genji.

"What amulet?" asked Angela, with sincere blankness.

Genji's mouth opened for a few seconds, "It's... fine. We--I can figure it out later."

Angela studied him for a few seconds, but then seemed to startle with realization. "Duke Engel--I have to get back to my guardian! He's probably worried sick about---" she noticed the shift in Genji's expression and her brow crinkled.

"H-how long have I been like this?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"I don't know," Genji said softly, "But... I think we should get out of here."

----

The journey out of the Ashlands was... quiet. One would have ventured to say awkward. The horse was, for what it was worth, waiting for him and nonchalantly grazing only a few dozen yards into the trees. For all the horrifying noises that must have issued from the castle, either the horse was deaf, or had its own odd sense of loyalty. This loyalty towards Genji did not go as far as Genji's attempts at comforting the Lady Angela, however. He tried to offer to let her ride back, and the horse pulled as far away from her as it could, stamping the ground and flattening its ears and taking significant effort from Genji just to convince it that it was safe to walk with her.

"It's fine," Lady Angela said, "I... need to get used to two legs again."

And so they were off.

Genji was embarrassed, not just over the whole nudity and flesh-becoming-scales bit, but at the idea that for him this had been a quest for glory and now was... actively dealing with someone who had lost everything, with someone who would, for all they knew, never be the same again. It was practically sunset when they began their journey away from Ziegler castle, so it wasn't long before they had to make camp.

"I know you've been through a lot," said Genji, "But we don't have a lot of time before we lose the sunlight. So if you could gather firewood while I set up a snare, we might be able to--"

"Shh--" Angela's pupils turned to slits, she had a hand on his shoulder as she scanned the ash trees around them. She gave the air a short sniiff. "I'll find food." she said, as if entranced.

"What-?" Genji started but she suddenly took off in a sprint leaning so far forward she was practically horizontal. "Lady--!"

But she disappeared into the brush. Genji tried to convince himself that that had not been a tail lashing out of the bushes as the last thing he saw of her. He was left standing next to his horse. The horse grumbled and stamped the ground.

"Don't give me that," said Genji, picking up some sticks for firewood.

Nearly half an hour passed. Genji had barely gotten his tinder lit when he heard a distant, animalistic bellow. His stomach dropped as he wondered if she had taken the form of a dragon again, but that hadn't sounded like any noise she had made before.

"Angela?" he called out to the all-too-quickly darkening woods.

There was a feminine grunt and a rustle of branches and Genji turned on his heel to see Angela coming from a completely new direction. He would have thought to wonder how far she had run if he wasn't distracted by the massive stag she was carrying across her shoulders. Those slit pupils of hers had dilated like a cat's, either from the dimming light or from adrenaline.

"I got it!" she said, dropping the dead stag onto the ground. No visible gashes--but he soon realized she had broken its neck.

"G-good job," said Genji.

Her eyes flicked from him, down to the dead stag, back up to him. Her nostrils flared and she slowly ran a forked tongue over her lips as she looked back down at the dead animal that was entirely too big for two people."

"You know what? I'll butcher it," said Genji.

"R-right," she seemed to remember herself.

"If we keep the fire going all night we can smoke what we don't eat rations for the next few days," Genji went on.

"Mm-hm. Rations. Yes. Few... days. Yes." She had folded her arms tight across herself, and was itching at her scales

"...you want to eat it now, don't you?" Genji asked cautiously.

"Please," smoke billowed out of her mouth and nostrils, and her teeth had gone sharp in her mouth as she spoke.

"Well, obviously you caught it, so you should decide what to--"

He shrieked and hopped back as she blew a billow of flame onto the dead deer. Genji's horse whinnied with alarm and Genji had to calm it down. But out here in the night air, the fire wasn't nearly as hot as it had been in the castle, but it also seemed... only comfortably warm. Like a campfire itself. Instinctive control of the the temperature of her own flames? Then she walked around it, stuck her hands under it as it was still burning, flipped it, and blew fire on the other side.

"...so you can do that in human form--?" he started but she didn't seem to hear him as she threw herself onto the still-burning stag.

He couldn't look away as she clawed and bit into the animal on her hands and knees. Genji's horse nickered with disturbance as she tore away burning hide to reveal sweet-smelling smoky venison, and dug in, tearing with teeth and claws. It was horrifying, it was animalistic, it was savage, and it was a lot more erotic than he wished he was recognizing it as. She made sounds like she was eating the most exquisite delicacies in the finest halls. She was almost moaning in ecstasy, blood and juices running down her chin as she yanked out a whole leg bone, blew a short flame on it for good measure, then snapped it in two and sucked out the marrow of one jagged end. "Mmh!--" She paused only to catch her breath, wiping at her chin with her scaly wrist, before she seemed to remember he was there. "Oh--" she looked down at what was now a burnt and ravaged wreck of what was once a stag. "Let me just---" she tore off a steak-sized rag of the meat of its leg round with her claws. and held out the other half of the bone she had sucked marrow out of to him. "Here."

He took both gingerly. "...thanks." he said, kind of wishing he had at least pulled his knife out to cut the meat into more manageable bites.

She was looking at him expectantly. He sheepishly lowered himself to a cross-legged position across from her so he was at her level, the burnt stag between them. He took a bite of the venison round and was... honestly impressed that it had been cooked to perfect rareness. She seemed to note his position and assume a more human sitting position, still reaching forward and grabbing random bones out of the stag, breathing a short flame on them, then snapping them and sucking the marrow out. They both ate quietly. Those first few bites seemed to remind Genji's body of its hunger, and soon he was drawing his knife and cutting out more little filets of venison to eat for himself. Angela was eating far more than him and faster, though it was clear she was more mindful of his eating as well--clearly a little embarrassed that this was her first meal with another person in what must have been a long time. Finally, both flopped back from the smoking remains of the stag with a sigh, staring up at the stars framed by ash tree branches. Genji's comparatively pithy little campfire crackled gently.

"...you know, you're a pretty good cook," said Genji, breaking the silence.

She just snorted with amusement. "I--I didn't even think about it. It just...felt like the thing to do. And the fire came so easily. The fire came because I was hungry. The only thing that made me realize it wasn't normal was... you shrieked like a little girl."

"I won't deny it. Maybe the fear makes it taste better," said Genji.

A soft chuckle escaped her. Another long pause passed between them.

"I can't go back to Sinteroth," Lady Angela said softly, "Not--not like this. I'm not a fool..." she trailed off.

"Do you... think there might be a way to reverse what's been done to you?" asked Genji.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him, those pupils turning to slits again. "Do you think that's what must be done?"

"I don't know," Genji was starting to feel like he said that a lot to her, "When I started this journey, you were an idea. Maybe a beautiful maid in a tower to be returned home, or... nothing but a necklace I could bring back to your people to give them closure." He made a snarling sound. "Gods dammit, Tracer was right."

"What's a Tracer?"

"Valor and bravery is about small things," he said, sitting up, "Or... at least it's not just one big thing you can just knock out and not have to worry about."

She was looking at him, perplexed.

"Never mind," he said, quietly, "I mean... I set out on this quest to win glory for myself. But now there's actually someone who needs my help--or maybe you don't need my help---and it's all messy and--" his hand went to the hilt of his sword, "Something's... changed me."

An amused 'hmph' issued from her.

"Well, obviously not as much as it's changed you--" Genji started.

"I understand," she said. She looked at her own clawed fingers against the stars above. "I like this body, and it frightens me that I like this body."

"I... like your body too," said Genji, "I mean--" He cut himself off. He was trying to be encouraging and signal that his previous suggestion about reversing her state was completely up to her, but immediately realized that was terrible phrasing for it. She just chuckled again.

"It feels as though its only been truly mine for a few hours... and it was so awful for the time before... when I was trapped. But now it's mine and I can't stand the idea of giving it up." Those slitted pupils widened again as she lowered her hand and stared at the stars. "Trapped in that castle, this body longed for the sky, and now so do I. But it's terrifying. I know... the moment I'm flying, I'll never want to be human again."

"You don't... have to be?" said Genji. He had known a decent number of adventurers that lived with their own enchantments and curses--an arm that had been turned to stone and was kept mobile by gnomish steamworks and earthweaver runes, a donkey's head from a fae prank, men and women cursed to take the shape of animals by either daylight or night---a lot of them lived with it, a lot of them had more interesting stories for it, but also adventurers set out without a lot to lose to begin with. Being a lady who, from what he heard, had already lost so much, he could understand her mixed feelings on the matter. All the power of a dragon though...and one brought to this plane by black magic... this would be a pretty delicate matter.

"You're very adaptable," she said, a smile in her voice.

"I try to be," he shrugged. They both watched the stars a while longer.

"...I remember the amulet," Angela said slowly.

"What?"

"I really... don't know that much about it," she sat up and hugged her knees, "Only that one of them was holding it when the knife went into me. Part of the reason my head's so foggy is... I was sharing that body with--with something else. I don't hear the voice in my head any more but..." she squinted her eyes shut, "I can hear it from you--but not really. It's like it's muffled in another room."

Genji remembered the voice in his head: You would set soul against body.

If she was the body---

Genji's hand tightened around his sword hilt until his knuckles turned white.

"You hear it too, don't you?" said Lady Angela, "That's what you mean by something's changed you."

"Yes," Genji admitted.

"I'm sorry," said Lady Angela.

"I chose to go to Castle Ziegler. I'll live with my choices. Whatever's happening with my sword, I'll... figure it out."

"You're very brave," she said quietly.

"'Brave' and 'didn't think a lot of things through' aren't the same thing."

"They aren't mutually exclusive, either," She gave a short huff out of her nostrils again. "So... you said you came from Overland?"

----

It was a few days later in the Overland tavern. It was the evening, when most of the patrons were at least a pint in, and all the adventurers were boasting and telling stories and drunkenly ripping down bounties from the board.

"So," Tracer was holding up her massive stein of beer, surrounded by several tough and burly-looking adventurers with a redheaded tavern maid in her lap, "It turns out it wasn't a six headed possum--just a mama possum with five babies. Which they carry on their back. Felt kind of wrong to take the bounty money just to pop them all in a sack and drop 'em in the middle of the woods, but that's the job for ya!"

"You're so brave," the tavern maid tickled Tracer's chin.

"Oh I know," said Tracer, smugly.

A goat bleated next to her.

The bell hanging over the door rang and Tracer glanced over to see Genji holding the door open for a tall cloaked figure.

"Oi, Genji! You had us all scared there, love!" Tracer raised her stein to him, "Where have you been?"

"Oh--just... traveling around," Genji shrugged.

"I told 'em about the cultists," the tavern keeper offered from behind the bar, setting down two pints for both Genji and Angela, "Told 'em you were probably dead."

"So what were they like?" Tracer pushed, "Did your sword get its taste for glory sated?"

Genji vaguely gestured, "Well, it looks like whatever plans the cultists had... blew up in their faces. No trace of her ladyship, either, unfortunately. Maybe she ran away, or... maybe she met the same fate as them. I can't say for sure."

Angela shot him a knowing look from the periphery of her hood and he smiled beneath his own helmet.

"And...who's your friend?" said Tracer, watching as Angela walked over to the bounty board.

Angela pulled back her hood, and gave Tracer a smile. "Just another adventurer. You may call me Mercy." They had managed to get her a cheap tunic and trousers in one of the villages on the way here, and her bare hands appeared human, but she appeared to be wearing some fabulous clawed scale-armor boots.

"We um... met in the ashlands," said Genji, "Same quest. Same disappointment. You know how it is."

"The ashlands!" one of the adventurers suddenly exclaimed, "Did you two see the dragon?"

"The dragon?" Mercy and Genji repeated with faux-shock.

"A great green beast! There's been word from the west! Past few days it's been showing up, circling around in the sky, then it lands and by the time anyone gets to where it's landed, Fffft! Gone!"

Genji could feel his sword softly, moodily thrumming in its scabbard.

"It hasn't been razing villages, has it?" said Mercy, putting a hand over her heart with concern.

"Well... no."

"Stealing sheep?" Genji guessed.

"Er... not that I heard," said the adventurer.

"And it just disappears as soon as it lands?" Genji leaned against the bar.

"Well... yes."

"Sounds awfully convenient," Mercy walked up next to him and arched an eyebrow.

Tracer was looking at both of them skeptically, eyes narrowed.

"You're suuuure you didn't see anything out there?" she asked, looking between him and Mercy.

"Nothing but ash and bone," said Mercy with an unsettlingly level glance at Tracer and a wide, calm smile. She blinked and Tracer could have sworn she saw the slick slide of nictitating membranes. "I'm with Genji on the 'fell magic blowing up in their faces' theory, but if that dragon is real, well, it's probably best to stay out of her way."

"'Her' way?" said Tracer.

"'Its' way," Mercy corrected herself with a dismissive hand wave before glancing over at Genji, who was sipping his pint. "Do you know if they have venison, here?"

[rosanna-writer]

Fanfic trope mashup (for Feysand!): I used a random number generator to make it super arbitrary, and it gave me #71 (24 hours to live) and #19 (summer camp AU) lol good luck? (and sorry?) 🤷‍♀️

OH MY GOD THIS IS AN INSANE COMBINATION I LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR DROPPING IT IN MY ASKBOX

I feel like this HAS to be summer camp horror??? Like full-on Feysand does Friday the 13th!!

I'd make Feyre an archery instructor at a summer camp who fucking HATES her job and would rather be painting. Rhys is a counselor in charge of a bunk of rambunctious little boys. But the camp has a DARK PAST and....... some other counselor named Andras turns up dead. And then another named Clare Beddor. Feyre does some digging and finds out that there was some shitty counselor named Amarantha back in the day who may or may not have killed campers 👀👀👀

And then Something Mysterious happens to indicate that Rhys is Amarantha's next intended victim and he has 24 hours to live, so.....cue Feyre marching into the forest with a crossbow to go defeat the evil ghost (demon? supernatural entity?) before it can touch a single hair on her new boyfriend's head.