#aside from “the double fang”

[karlydraws]

"You are too slow" / "guys... Please don't fight :')" / "Shut up!"

What if they were all just childhood friends

City boys spending their summer break at Granny's house, making friends with local kids

[rennyrose]

I adore Vivio as well just two very kind but very broken people trying their very best hhhhhhhhhh

But Chyeah one of my fav things about their dynamic is how comfortable they are around each other- esp with Vash being so trusting of Liv from nearly the very get-go

Whether it’s goofin together or having a deep moment, it comes easy to them-

I like the idea that whenever LR are around it means that it’s time to Rest™️ for Vash, mind and heart at peace knowing everything will be alright since they’re there (even if it gets in the way of quality time sometimes)

[cocosummer]

sum: you're getting double teamed by zhongli and neuvillette while they're in heat.. have fun :]

a/n: i tried something new with this one, please lmk if you liked it!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader x neuvillette

cws: sub + bottom!reader, established polyamorous relationship, tongue fucking, creampie, major size difference (because dragons big), desperate dragons in heat, slight degrading at one point, possessiveness

<< minors and ageless blogs dni! >>

you sat in place, feeling the muscles of two serpentine tails tensing and relaxing as they coiled around you. the surrounding air of the nest was warm and dense with the longing breaths of dragons. dragons in heat.

your mates.

since the former archon, zhongli, had come to spend more time with you and neuvillette in fontaine, it seemed that his and neuvillette’s mating cycles had.. synced up? you weren’t exactly sure of the details. all you knew was that your two dragon partners were having to share the same nest and the same mate, while their heats made them increasingly territorial and needy. and it’d caused them to need to.. re-evaluate some terms in your group contract. 

“um.. have you two decided on anything?” you watched the two dragons conversing in hushed tones, sometimes snarling, sometimes glancing over at you with a visible need, before continuing their discussion. surely they had reached some sort of conclusion as for what to do with you by now..? 

zhongli turned from neuvillette to flash you a hazy smile, a quick departure from the zhongli of just a moment ago. “i believe so, my dear.” 

though he would never willingly hurt you or neuvillette, he could be quite the unpredictable character during his heat; if his mere survival of and achievements during the archon war were anything to show for it, he was more than the kindly, strangely knowledgeable yet somewhat ditzy secretary of the wangsheng funeral parlor that many knew him as. he dipped down from where he had been looming aside neuvillette and muttered a short, “if you’d allow me,” before nudging his snout at your thighs. his jaw parted slightly to let his pink tongue flick over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his long, yellowed fangs.

his rolling mane was soft and ticklish as he settled over you. “i allow you,” you parroted slowly, and the geo dragon spared you a brief, doting look with bleary golden eyes, before he dove in for more.

you immediately felt yourself clenching up as his warm tongue squeezed between your cheeks to lap at the rim of your hole, stretching it out for him to use as he pleased. you could feel his jaw working under you, the rough scales on his muzzle rubbing against your legs as you instinctively started grinding against him. he let out a deep, resounding groan that shook the air as you started to ride his face.

and you were not unaware of monsieur neuvillette’s eyes on you. the hydro dragon followed your movements with blown out, iridescent eyes as you bounced on zhongli’s snout. his glossy jaws were parted, with dribblets of saliva starting to dangle like ice crystals from his lip, and his jaw hung lower each time zhongli’s tongue slipped deeper into you. each time you snapped your hips, and rolled them back to draw zhongli in further. you figured they really must have agreed on something, because as much as neuvillette seemed to want to jump in and lap you up himself, he stayed put in his corner of the nest. 

“neuvillette?”

your sweet voice had him bristling where he sat, as if it were a siren’s song, and he was the all too eager sailor about to rush into the throes of the ocean at your beckon call. though something seemed to have penetrated his heat-driven state of mind, giving him pause for a moment; he sank unceremoniously back into place. “um, we’ve agreed to.. take turns.”

“..oh..”

meanwhile, something in zhongli seemed to have snapped. overwhelmed with the scent of you, his tongue rasped more aggressively. he started fucking his tongue deeper and faster into your hole, as if it was him who needed to cum. 

some part of you had to wonder if this was his way of guiding your attention back to him. though you couldn’t focus on much else besides the arousal building in your gut. 

the forked tongue stirring in your insides, with plunging, circular motions that encouraged what felt like a tight coil in your gut to turn loose. the dogged look neuvillette was giving you as he waited, a voyeur watching his partner as you tensed and shook. zhongli’s name squeezed out of your pretty lips, and a sparse hovel of grey clouds formed over his crested head, though no water fell; with his jaw taut and his eyes bleary, his frilly ‘paws’ tucked under his chest, you decided morose longing was a beautiful look on him.

at some point you couldn’t hold back any more; trembling and tensed, you spurted cum down your legs, drenching the geo dragon’s beautiful, stone-coloured scales. though it wasn’t that way for long; you felt zhongli shift under your legs as he hurried to lick his chops dry of every drop of you. his pink tongue sometimes curled over your thigh, in his rush.

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a large blurr – neuvillette diving for some of your arousal that had escaped zhongli’s notice and dripped onto the floor. immediately zhongli’s muzzle curled with a low, guttural snarl he poised at the hydro dragon, his slender haunches rising. to your surprise, neuvillette scrambled backward; well, it was both surprising and almost unnatural to see both the grand iudex of fontaine and a dragon not designed for environments outside of the ocean to move in such a manner. his grand, leafy fins slapped on the floor like a seal’s flippers. 

“zhongli,” you chided half-heartedly, sort of amused and still coming down from your high. 

the geo dragon let out a long chuff in response; he bent to gently lower you off his nose, onto his coils that covered the ground below, and pressed the side of his head to the floor, to savor what was left of your cum with long, greedy licks.  

you watch with a slight amused grin. he’s an old man, but he still acts like this. 

you turn to beckon neuvillette over apologetically, though he doesn’t appear to hear you.

the statuesque hydro dragon was staring down his nose, fixated on the cum that was sparsely trickling from between your legs and creating a small wet spot on the floor. ah. 

you felt blood starting to pool in your crotch once again, just from the yearning, desirous.. obvious way he was looking at you. his slit pupils blown wide, his scaly head drawn so low to the ground that his fluorescent blue antennae brushed against it. wordlessly pleading for you to let him in

perhaps he needed to hear your invitation again. he was distracted the last time

– –

“don’t let such high praises go to waste, my neuvillette. our mate clearly can’t focus, with how you’re stretching their soft, human hole to full capacity, getting it ready for me.” a rumbly, possessive growl emerged in the last of zhongli’s words, lending him an alluringly dangerous quality.

neuvillette slurred above you; his mind was far away. “nh.. so full for me, my love..” his tail wrapped attentively around the bulge in your stomach that his cock was causing. a broody trill escaped his throat, and you panted, enamored with his little noise.

“you look divine, when you’re at a loss for words~” zhongli’s smooth, sultry voice had somehow deepened to a point you’d seldom heard it reach before. you could tell he was deep in the sauce now

and you could only imagine the scene he was enjoying. merely picturing the sight of dragon cock splitting through your thighs was enough to have you tensing up, head reeling

your drool collected on the coil below you, as you forgot everything but what you felt. as your body worked hard to accommodate the tip of one of the hydro dragon’s heavy, shark-like cocks, and your mind honed in on his rhythmically plying out a ways and then nestling deeper inside you with each twist of his long, muscular body. the pressure of his cock weighing against the soft flesh of your opening, and the brush of his scales against your inner thighs stimulating you further

your body ached from anticipation, with your only thoughts crying for more, more more, though you weren’t exactly sure how much you could take. this was your first heat spent together; it’d usually be you visiting one dragon or the other during their respective nesting days. 

neuvillette’s labored breaths fanned over the back of your head, like the gusts of an ocean wind. you sensed your vision growing bleary, and a tension accumulating within you; a strong wave of your own arousal sent you for a loop, and you felt neuvillette’s strong coils shudder around you in response, minutely tightening their grip. and you heard neuvillette let out a strangled whelp when he finally let himself go, when he allowed thick ropes of his cum to plunge into your insides, dousing you with sudden warmth.

a thick ring of neuvillette’s cum quickly formed around the base of his dick, but before he could overwhelm his small human partner with the sheer amount of cum dragons tended to produce, he carefully slid out, and let the rest of it flow under your stomach.

or, more accurately, he suddenly had the mind to slide out.. he was rather enjoying the sensation of being milked to the brim by you, and his mind, in its most relaxed and instinct-driven state, told him to hoard what he loved – what was his.

having taken his load, you were assumed in the scent of the hydro dragon; you were markedly his

and you could tell it was making zhongli antsy, because scarcely had neuvillette pulled out when you felt the geo dragon’s paw padding over your back. cum was still pouring out of you, and his talons curled around your trembling figure, securing you in his grasp so he could draw you towards him.

you wriggled weakly in his clutch, managing a strained, breathless, “it's too much,” when the geo dragon let out something akin to a warning hiss. “our contract agreement was to take turns, my dear.”

his whiskers brushed like soft mist against your cheeks as he hung his head low, to address you. his proximity to you punctuating his words.

“and you’ve agreed, to assist us until we’re satisfied.

shouldn’t we adhere to that?”

[vienssunshine]

What are the Halloween costumes that would drive JJK characters crazy?

pairings: Maki, Choso, and Nanami x fem!reader nsfw: drug use, implied sexual activity

Maki: Black Cat

Maki has no issue with your "costume" being just lingerie and cat ears. Well, you had drawn a little triangle on your cute nose, so she'd give you credit for that. But even so, how could she mind the basic costume when you made it look so good? It's hard to focus on the conversation she's having when the body suit—so tight on your gorgeous silhouette—is riding up on your hips, allowing her to make out the curve of your ass. And just below it, she can see your black thigh highs and how they squeeze your legs, a little bit of your flesh spilling out over the top. With a sight like this, she can't stand there staring the whole time, she has to come over and introduce herself to the pretty girl in the cat costume. You'd giggle your name back to her and do a terrible job of hiding how your eyes flick down to the strong but elegant hands of hers that you just took a drink from. Later in the night, when you two end up pressed together in the closet of someone's house, she would show you how she's quite the cat person and knows how to take care of your pussy.

Choso: Vampire

This boy is emo!!! And so touch starved, so when you're smoking his weed outside of your friend’s party and you playfully threaten to bite his neck, he agrees. With a fanged smile, you pass the blunt back to him and place your hands on his built shoulders so you can close in on your victim. He shudders at the sensation of your breath on his throat, pulse thumping through his neck as he senses you move closer and closer until your fake fangs graze his pale skin. His hand grabs onto your arm, but he doesn’t stop you as you gently bite his flesh. It’s not enough to draw blood, but it still sends a shiver of—fear? excitement? ...arousal?—down his spine. As a thank you for providing make-believe sustenance, you remove your fangs from his neck and plant a gentle kiss in their place, causing his fingers to squeeze around your arm. Your kiss leaves a smear of your red lipstick on his skin, but he doesn’t wipe it off, he likes being marked.

Nanami: Classic Movie Killer

Nanami would find all your little teases about how he should ‘watch out’ because ‘there’s a serial killer on the loose,’ very entertaining. You’d brandish your flimsy plastic knife and draw a line across his throat with it while telling him he should be grateful you haven’t killed him yet since, if you wanted to, you could. He’d cross his arms, showcasing his strong, veiny forearms, and tilt his head with an “Oh yeah?” and watch as you stumble over yourself to double down on your empty threats. Aside from the fact that he would be able to pin you in under a second, he knows it'd be impractical to kill anyone in the skimpy get-up you're wearing. Not that he doesn't like the little 'killer' outfit though, he actually has a hard time keeping his eyes from roaming the bloodied, exposed skin your crop-top and skirt reveal. Of course he’d keep his composure at the Halloween party, but after it he'd take you home and rip off your costume, leaving you bare and naked and dripping with arousal, and it’s only then he'd allow himself to teach you who should be scared of who.

[cocklessboy]

I see a lot of people saying that gender-affirming health care like top surgery for trans people like myself should be freely available (which is correct), but one of the reasons they often give is that top surgery is very safe and has a very low rate of complications compared to other surgeries. And I often see transphobes clutching their pearls over the few people who do have complications. What about them?! What if you're one of the unlucky ones?! Should we really let those transes risk it??!!!

Setting aside the fact that no one raises such concerns over other types of surgery, I'd like to use myself as an example for anyone who needs one.

In May of 2022 I had top surgery (double mastectomy). The surgery was done by a gynecological surgeon, not a plastic surgeon, because that way my insurance would cover it.

The surgeon did his job and removed the breast tissue, but he did not make it look pretty. I have dog-ears at both ends of both scars (extra bits of skin that hang off in a very unappealing fashion), my chest still looks unnaturally flat with no muscle or fat despite a lot of working out, and one of the stitches didn't heal properly and was left as an open wound through "secondary healing" for several months before it finally healed over into a very large scab (and eventually a very large scar). My nipples are uneven and irregular and look... well, just awful, really. Due to bad genetic luck, I wound up with keloid scars which, instead of getting smaller and lighter over time, have instead expanded, becoming thicker and darker. Worst of all, I now have chronic nerve pain in my chest. My GP thinks the surgeon must have hit a nerve during the procedure, and now I have random sharp pains all over my chest even now, nearly ten months later. The pain might improve with time, or it might not.

I basically had almost every possible complication one can have from this surgery short of infection or death. Some of the aesthetics might be fixable with more surgery (though plastic surgery will be expensive). Some are probably permanent. I might never feel comfortable taking my shirt off in public again. I might have to tattoo over the scars.

And pay attention to this next bit, because it's the most important part of this whole post: I do not regret the surgery. Even with all the complications and the ugly state of my chest and the pain. If someone said they could push a button and make it so that the surgery never happened and I'd have a perfect, unmarred chest with C-cup breasts again, I would tell them to take their button and fuck right off. Because even with basically the worst of all possible outcomes, that surgery was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I don't feel good about taking my shirt off in front of people now. I do think my chest is ugly. But it's a male chest now. When I put on a t-shirt, it rests flat against my chest. No one will ever mistake me for a woman again. I'll never have to wear a bra or binder ever again.

The dysphoria I felt from having breasts was so severe that a hideously scarred chest and chronic pain are vastly preferable. The euphoria I feel when I look in the mirror with a shirt on is something I never knew I was capable of feeling.

And it's my fucking body, and it's up to me what I do with it. If I wanted to tattoo myself from head to toe, or file my teeth into fangs, or have a doctor break my legs and surgically implant extensions to make me taller, that's my right because it's my body. The fact that all those things are regarded as basically acceptable (if a little weird), but I had to have a dehumanizing interview with an old cis psychiatrist who hates trans people and wants us all sterilized just to get a piece of paper giving me permission to have my tits removed, is fucking absurd.

Top surgery (of any kind) is generally very safe, and complications are rare. But even with the worst outcome, a trans person will basically never regret it.

And frankly, if a cis woman wants her tits cut off, or a cis man wants a pair of boobs to play with on his own chest, more power to them because literally who gives a fuck what people do to their own bodies? I saw a dude on TV when I was a kid who'd tattooed his whole body to look like a cat, filed his teeth into fangs, and had loads of plastic surgery to surgically implant whiskers and make his face look more feline. It was weird! But literally no one said that should be banned because he might regret it. It's his body to do whatever weird shit he wants with.

The next time someone clutches their pearls and kicks and screams about how you can't let someone permanently alter their body in a way they might regret, feel free to point to me and my complete and utter lack of regret.

(Or have a little fun with it, go hard in the other direction, and say you absolutely agree, which is why we should ban ALL non-emergency surgeries until the patient has been FULLY evaluated by three psychiatrists - along with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and ballet lessons for anyone under the age of 25, since ballet changes the structure of a child's body FOREVER.)

[tigressaofkanjis]

My biggest pet peeve in Transformers media and fanfiction sometimes is that Transformers aren't treated as aliens. They are referred to as aliens, they obviously are aliens, but they never feel like they are aliens because they are always written or seen as having all human mannerisms or features usually. Human posture, human noses, human mannerisms, humanoids...

What about TFA's cat noses or TFP's helm noses? One of the reasons I think those two shows have peak designs is because they have this lack of uncanniness to humans design wise. I'm not looking at a human being as a robot, I'm looking at an alien robot, ones that have claws, ones that have different body types that blend with their vehicle modes, ones with horrific mutilations and designs impossible by human standards. I love seeing that type of stuff in Transformers because to me, it makes them feel alien without completely changing the premises of similarities to where we can't compare their culture or likeness to humans. The films (mostly 1 and 2) showed off this as well.

Another thing I really would like to see in Transformers media is non-human interactive qualities. What do I mean by that? One thing I've noticed is aside from techno-organic species, regular Cybertronians do have a few qualities found in animals. Engine humming I believe was once used as a form of purring in the films and in some of the cartoons. Humans can't purr; cats can, and that small detail is always interesting to come across because it's like "wow, they have this feature that shows off a trait found in Cybertronians. That is so cool." You have them with multiple voice boxes for mechanical, natural, and human-like tones which is also an animal trait. Bumblebee is self-explanatory in most universes being able to still make sounds yet not talk. They have sensors across their body that don't act like the basic human receptors. Most animals can do more than just feel through certain points of their bodies. They can taste, smell, or even hear a hundred times better than a human being throughout various body parts, and Transformers have been hinted to have this ability too, especially through their servos. It's stuff like this that expands upon their existence as aliens.

They have extreme durability, their body morphs to extremes and can also double as a moving weapon (most obvious of course), some of them can make ungodly roars and creature-like noises to warn or show their threatening demeanor (Megatron's dinosaur-like growling), some can have two rows of teeth (a flat base in front and fangs hidden behind), and some of them have mimicking animal-like features (Starscream's bird-shaped feet with visible expansion the same as organic foot padding with similar distributive weight physics in a few universes) despite having no beast mode. There's probably more I can't think of on the top of my head in canon, but all those things are not heavily used as they should be to make them feel alien. They can still hold some relation to the humans they interact with, but I think a lot of Transformers are more than just metal "humans", you know?

Depending on the universe in fanfiction and who you encounter who writes it or not, you have several things that are always cool to see. They have to sparkbond (merging of hearts) above everything else to create a sparkling's life force with interface as just the extra for physical coding features. I've seen people use the non-canon heat cycles which are, of course, our fandom way of making a type of breeding euphemism akin to an animal's cycle. You have the common phrasing of nuzzling, heightened senses, armor and certain parts of the helm acting like fur or ears where it raises and flattens per their mood, and some Transformers have limb dissonance where if necessary, they can convert between bipedal and quadrupedal stances (best example is Bulkhead and Lugnut from TFA who have long arms but short legs and they have the bulky structure where they could possibly run like an animal briefly and the physics of it would work).

So, you have all these different things a common Cybertron most likely would be able to do or have but a human couldn't, and it's never utilized to their full potential. I would like to see people address the nature of Cybertronians as alien and not be afraid to make them alien. I think that's the biggest flaw in our franchise is that everyone is scared of making the Transformers not the humanoid "norm" and getting ridiculed for it. Like, they're aliens, you can make them act however animal-like or completely batshit insane as you want them. You can give them powers, animal-based senses, and behaviors hidden among a human thought process. And technically, you wouldn't be wrong to what they could be as a living creature in the universe by doing so. They aren't humans; they look humanoid, but they aren't us. Why should they have to be in every regard?

Thank you for reading my TED Talk.

[minniesmutt]

𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢: 𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

♱ ━━━  PAIRING: OT8 X READER ♱ ━━━  CW: PREGNANCY MENTIONS, BLOOD MENTIONS, GANGBANG, ORAL (F. & M. REC), FINGERING, UNPROTECTED SEX, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CREAMPIE, CUM EATING, MARKING, BREAST PLAY, SPIT ROAST, DOUBLE PENETRATION, ANAL + VAGINAL PENETRATIONS ♱ ━━━  WC: 2.2K

     It took some getting used to. Being a vampire. But Y/n was glad she had eight partners to show her the ropes. She was ever so grateful to her Kingdom for putting aside their distaste towards the eight when they heard they had saved and taken care of their Queen. The church still fussed every now and then but the nine handled it. She’d earned the nickname “The Eternal Queen” after some time on the throne. After she was crowned, she had her father’s advisors arrested and now could have her own court. What better than asking the men who showed her love?

     They all accepted with a smile and many people from their town moved to join her kingdom. The land the vampires ruled just became a part of her kingdom. No one there caused any trouble with the queen ruling. Even helped ease the minds of others. 

     Three years of her reign thus far and without someone breathing down her neck and reprimanding her for the decisions she made, the kingdom was prospering like years past. One thing she found a little too hectic was how fast her two children had been growing. 

     It was a month later after her coronation, she ended up pregnant again. None of them played guess the father—though Minho was very much pushing for it to be his after what happened last time. Chan explained that it was common for fledglings born of two vampires to grow quickly but he did not classify how quickly. Y/n reprimanded him later when she gave birth to the group’s baby girl about four and a half months later.

     Even though she was all of their baby, there was no doubt it was Felix who was her biological father. The little girl was the spitting image of him. All the men cooed at the new princess and her little fangs.

     “I gather she’ll drink blood rather than milk,” Hwan asked. The maid had chosen to come work in the castle with a few other staff members from the manor. A few chose to stay behind to just keep it clean if the nine chose to come back for whatever reason.

     “I suppose so,” Y/n smiled as the boys handed her her daughter.

     “You feel alright?” Chan asked as he brushed her hair back. 

     “Bit hungry,” Y/n replied

     “I’ll go grab some blood,” Hwan said, leaving the family to be for a while.

     Medical staff had already left and Hwan was tending to Y/n now. The boys insisted they could do it but really the girl missed the royal. Y/n missed her too honestly.

     Even though she had gone through the process before, giving birth to her second baby wasn’t much better. It was easier though. Their son was seemingly the spitting image of Chan, just like her daughter was of Felix.

     “It’s a boy,” their daughter, Nabi, pointed out. It had only been two years since she was born but she looked about double her age now.

     “You have a baby brother now,” Jeongin said as Nabi sat on his lap.

     “I wanted a sister,” She complained 

     “Doesn’t quite work like that princess,” Hwan reminded the little girl     “It should.”

     “She’s just like you when you were a child,” one of the older maids from the castle said as she helped the younger clean up.

     Y/n loved her two children, just didn’t love how they were growing up. Chan had made it a point to get her as well as their children, day rings. The kids having to constantly get new ones with how they were growing. Chan assured her it would slow down but she wasn’t quite sure. 

     On top of the eight being her advisors, they had all gotten married. Everyone made a deal about having eight kings but the vampires assured them not all of them would take the throne. They decided, mostly given status, that Chan would publicly appear as the king but he was really more of an advisor. Letting her make all the decisions. Stood behind her when she had to make addresses. Uncalled for in their time but so was their relationship.

     “Darling,” Jisung said as he walked into her study. She’d been working all day on a few trade routes needing to be up and she hadn’t realized how much time really passed.

     “Hi, love.” She greeted him as he walked over to her desk. 

     “Kids are asleep. You should rest too,” He said, pulling the papers and fountain pen out of her hand

     “Ji, we both know I don’t need sleep anymore.” Y/n sighed

     “Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean overworking. Come on,” Jisung pulled her up out of the chair.

     “Ji,” Y/n whined 

     “Y/n,” The male returned the energy.

     Y/n pouted at him only for him to laugh and wrap his arms around her. “I’m not making you rest love. We have a surprise in the bedroom though.”

     “Mhm, what kind of surprise?” Y/n inquired

     “You’ll have to see,” Jisung bent down and picked her up.

     Y/n smiled and held onto his shoulders. Jisung carried her out of her study and into their room. The seven others waiting for them as they entered the room.

     Once inside the room, Jisung put her on the ground and attached his lips to hers.

     “Really Jisung?” Minho questioned the vampire's eagerness

     “I carried her here. I think it’s fair I get first kisses. Plus if it wasn’t for me, none of this would be in this relationship.” The two bickered as Hyunjin came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck.

     “Hi pretty,” He said as he pulled her away from the vampire's arms.

     “Hi Hyun,” Y/n smiled, as she turned to face him. The rest gathered around slowly. Making sure everyone got their kisses after not seeing much of her for the day. 

     While Felix had her lips locked with his Changbin worked on unlacing her dress and undergarments. The boys worked to undress her completely before undressing themselves and pulling her to the large bed. Jeongin sat back with her on his lap. Y/n pressed her lips into his before he turned her around, her back against his chest. Seungmin kneeled next to them and pressed his lips onto hers whilst Jeongin attacked her neck. Both their hands spread her legs open. 

     Jisung took the chance to get back between her legs and lay on the bed between her spread legs. Jisung placed his hands on the inside of her thighs as his tongue lapped up the small bit of arousal that had started dripping out of her. Y/n moaned into Seungmins mouth before he pulled away and moved his lips down to her breasts. Hyunjin took the chance to connect his lips to hers as Jisung was making out with her cunt. Hyunjin’s tongue pushed into her and explored before pulling away and smiling at her. Y/n grabbed his thigh as Hyunjin sat up again. Her hand moved up and wrapped around her dick, pumping him before he took it upon himself to move closer and push himself inside of her mouth. 

     Y/n moaned around him as the other three toyed with her. The others waiting for their own turn. Hyunjin moved his hips and pushed himself into her throat as she moaned with each bit of stimulation they were giving her. She felt two fingers prod at her entrance, moaning as they entered her and Hyunjin spilled into her.

     Y/n took his load before he pulled out and watched her swallow his load. Hyunjin moved away and Felix took the chance to replace him as she clenched around the fingers inside her. Seungmin marked up her breasts while Jeongin marked her neck. Both keeping her spread open and Jeongins free hand playing with the breasts Seungmin wasn’t marking. 

     It wasn't much longer till she came on Jisung’s fingers and he licked her completely clean. Y/n whined as he pulled away from her, Minho taking his place between her legs. Tip of his dick teasing her and making her whine around Felix. His cock twitching as Minho pushed into her. He took hold of her thighs, freeing the other's hands.

     Minho let her adjust to him as Felix spilled down her throat before pulling out. Her head fell back onto Jeongin's shoulder as he lifted his head. “Doing so good love. Just let us take care of you,” Jeongin whispered in her ear.

     “Want more,” Y/n begged

     “Need another cock in you darling?” Minho teased as he slowly thrusted in and out of her

     “Yes. Wan’ be filled with you all.” If they weren’t hard before, they definitely were after hearing that.

     Jeongin slipped one of his fingers into her mouth and Y/n sucked the finger till he pulled out with a pop. He got his hand between her and Minho and slowly pushed his finger inside her. Y/n moaned before Seungmin sat up and turned her head to him and pushed his cock down her throat, watching her eyes roll back slightly. Jeongin fingered her ass slowly as Minho brought his fingers down to rub her clit as he slowly thrusted his dick in and out of her. 

     Jeongin slowly added another finger into her and spread her open from below. Y/n pulled away from Seungmin’s cock to beg the man below to put his cock in. Ever the ones to please their wife, Minho stopped his movement and allowed Jeongin to spread his precum around the hole and then slowly slip inside. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n moaned before taking her husband’s cock into her mouth again. 

     Jeongin moved slowly till he was fully sheathed inside of her. Giving her some time to adjust before moving with Minho inside of her. The two started slowly but she already was close to the edge of being completely filled. 

     Her body went limp with pleasure as she moaned and clenched around them. Minho and Jeongin both picked up their pace as Minho started toying with her clit again. Tipping her over the edge. The men groaned as she clenched around them. Jeongin spilled inside her first. 

     Shoving himself deep in her ass and coating her walls with his come. Seungmin moved his hips faster till he came in her throat. Minho fucked her harder before his cum spilled in her while Jeongin and Seungmin pulled out of her. 

     Minho pulled out as Jisung moved under her. His dick teased her ass before slipping in. Changbin took Minhos place and pushed his cock into her cunt. His hands held her open as Jisung moved his hands to grope her breasts as Chan offered his cock to her mouth. 

     Y/n took him into her mouth and sucked him off as the two fucked the other's cum back into her. Chan held the back of her head as he thrusted into her mouth. Her moans were muffled by his cock. 

     Her holes were being stretched and used but Y/n loved it. Loved them. Never has she regretted offering to play prisoner those years ago. Especially now as the three filled her more. 

     Each of them pushed deep into her as their cum mixed with the loads inside her as her own orgasm came again. The three pulled out and Hyunjin took Changbin’s spot. Laying back on the bed so she was on top. Felix took Jisungs place and the two slowly pushed into her. Y/n moaned as the two held her up and started pounding into her. 

     Strings of curses falling free from her mouth if there wasn’t a cock to keep her quiet now. Her hands were loosely planted on Hyunjins chest as the two pumped into her. 

     She’d only taken them all one other time, their wedding night. She somehow forgot how they were able to make her forget everything she’d ever thought about. Their hands roamed over her body, making her feel weightless. Knowing just where to touch her to get her to melt. 

     Felix’s hand grabbed her breasts as Hyunjin moved her hips with them. Her orgasm washed over before she knew it and the two emptied their loads in her. She blanked for the rest of the night. Tired from work and taking all eight of their cocks. Waking up in the morning with Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix cuddling here. 

     “Passed out last night. We cleaned you up and tucked you in.” Felix explained. 

     “Not too much last night?” Hyunjin asked, kissing her shoulder 

     “No. Just been a while since we’ve all done it.” Y/n assured them

     Y/n took the day to herself. Staying bed with her husbands, the eight coming and going at random, and her two children when they pleased. more often wanting to play in the garden with their dads. 

     It wasn’t long till she found out she was pregnant again. the family and kingdom being excited once more. Her daughter and son arguing over whether it is a boy or a girl. 

     Like the last two pregnancies, her husband’s took on a lot of her responsibilities so she could rest. And when the baby wanted to come out, all eight were there for her while Hwan took care of the two children. 

     Nabi was pleased to know she finally had a sister. But no one was happier than Minho. All nine parents knew when they looked at their little girl's big round eyes that she was his. He about refused to let anyone else hold her until Nabi and Minseok asked if they could hold the baby. Minho couldn’t say no to his kids. 

♱ ━━━ PREV SERIES M.LIST NEXT

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 9

Summary: With the bargain in place, you'll have to learn to hide your powers while navigating a possibility of allies within Amarantha's court.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestiveness, canon typical violence, allusions to assault.

Author's Note: As a little treat for the last chapter being so short, this one is loooooonnnngg. A couple familiar faces make an appearance here, as I decided I wanted to start combining the Hybern storyline with the UTM storyline.

Part 8 is here, rest of the series can be found here

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

“Again.”

Breath rasps out of you, hands doubled over on your knees, sweat dripping off your forehead. The pounding in your skull intensifies with each labored breath, spots dancing across your vision as you shake your head. “I can’t!”

“You can.”

You raise your head enough to shoot the High Lord of the Night Court a glare. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one shifting forms over and over again. Do High Lord’s even have other forms, aside from Spring? You can’t recall anymore, your head hurts too much. Rhys had decided days ago--at least, you think it’s days, time has become irrelevant in this dark dungeon cell Amarantha has left you both in--that the best way for you to gain control of your powers to better hide them, is to learn how to control the shift. Yours is not quite a beast form, you’re not fully transforming into some sort of beast, but you can grow fangs and claws and shift your eyes into something other. There’s something deeper there you haven’t quite touched, the image of it reveals itself in your dreams, sometimes as this shapeless empty void, others with scales, but you’ll have to dig deeper for whatever that thing is. For now, it’s dampening your power and glamoring your bargain mark, and keeping a harness on the fangs and claws. It’s excruciating, letting them out and shoving them back in, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done it already. And Rhys just sits there in the corner, watching intently, giving instructions and being a general pain in the ass with each of them. 

“Did you think it was going to be easy?” Rhys returns.

You massage your jaw, the throbbing from retracting your fangs making your whole face hurt. “Of course not asshole! I’m just saying a little compassion would be nice.”

Rhys smirks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to be babied and treated like a doll.”

You snarl at him like an animal, eyes blazing and your fangs slide into place effortlessly, pricking your bottom lip. 

Rhys stands with a grunt, body still recovering from the beating he’d received and the strain on his powers. “You’re so easy to rile up,” he croons, stalking closer. “You wear every emotion so plainly, it’s almost too easy to get you right into this position. And what happens when someone other than me sees, hm?”

He’s right and you hate it. 

He stills when he’s only a hair breath away. “I know it’s hard,” he says more gently. “But consider the alternative.”

You don’t want to even think about the alternative. This bargain has to work, you have to make it work, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how long it takes. You can’t let her win.

Your eyes go to the marks still gouged into Rhys’s neck from the collar; his healing abilities have started to return slowly, but he still can’t get the chain off, the wounds still rubbed raw from any and every movement. You can’t let her keep doing this to him either.

“Fine,” you huff.

“Good girl.”

The remark gets him a nice flash of your middle finger before you go back through the steps he’d taught you. It is nice to have the banter between you as a distraction to the reality of your situation, to the cold and darkness that have become a constant companion here far beneath the Mountain. The lack of food and sleep from the elements and the sounds of things prowling around outside is hard enough to bear without the looming threat of Amarantha’s return. This easy thing between you takes the edge off.

You last maybe an hour more, before you slump against the wall, exhausted. 

“You’re doing good,” Rhys affirms from his side of the cell. There’s barely enough room for the two of you to stretch your legs, knees brushing as you stretch your weary muscles. 

You want to believe him, but you know the confinement is taking a toll on your body. Perhaps part of Amarantha’s plan is to let you go half mad in the dark of the dungeons for your insubordination. At least you had been let out of your room from time to time. Locked away like this, you’re tired more easily. With powers like yours you should be able to do this for longer, but it feels like you’re trying to move the Mountain one rock at a time.

You rub a hand over your face, smearing the filth on your hands from touching the floor across your face. “Don’t patronize me.”

“You can be doing good and still need a lot of work,” he replies. “I thought you wanted me to be sympathetic?”

“Yeah well it means less if I had to force you to say it,” you retort.

He moves so he can come sit next to you. If he had any plans to say anything, it’s halted as the lock on the door slides out of place and it creaks open.

You instinctively reach for his hand, breath caught in your throat, waiting to hear that ominous click of heels on the stone floor. But it’s merely one of her red skinned guards, pushing a single tray across the floor before slamming the door shut again.

Rhys gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning around you to grab the tray, a single, burnt loaf of bread and a cup of water between the two of you.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

He rips the bread in half. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

You take the half he offers, stomach rumbling, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it. What’s the point? 

“Tell me about it,” he says after a beat. “What’s so special about your little farmhouse in Spring.”

You bring your knees to your chest. “It had a lot of sunlight, for starters.” You miss being able to curl up by the windows with your books and a cup of tea, miss going out into the fields to check the mares and their calves, miss finding an excuse to go into town to listen to the minstrels play in the square. 

“I miss my bed and that old quilt I bought off a seamstress on the side of the road,” you continue, tears welling in your eyes. “And my books.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Anything,” you reply. “Everything. Never really mattered to me. Unless it was about math. I hate math.”

Rhys huffs a laugh. “What did math do to you?”

“It’s evil and stupid and who fucking puts letters in with numbers?”  It’s such a stupid statement you can’t help but laugh as the words come out. “But I’d read nothing but books about numbers for the rest of my life if it meant we got out of here.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to pull some from my library for you,” he teases.

You turn to look at him. “How have you survived this long, Rhys?”

He washes down the rest of his food with a bit of the water in your shared cup, violet eyes looking anywhere in the cell but your face. “One day at a time,” he says like it’s something he’s said every day. “And… and when it gets bad I think about my friends, my family. I make a list of their names and I recite it in my head until I don’t feel so lonely.”

You take his hand again, because what else are you supposed to do? You cannot magically make this all end right here and now. It will take time. Maybe that’s what hurts most, because this is the first time in weeks you’ve felt like you understand how your powers work, how you can use them, and yet there’s nowhere to direct them. It’s all a waiting game, moving pieces into the right places until you can finally put all this to use. And cauldron is the waiting game grating on your last nerve, but it’s only been a few days. Rhys has been here for fifty. Your heart aches for him.

“But I think,” he finally turns to look at you, and his violet eyes are damp. “I think I’ve forgotten what they look like.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Some days I want to just lay down and quit,” he whispers. “But I can’t. I won’t. Then she wins and everything I’ve set out to do, to protect, was for nothing. I can’t let it be for nothing.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “It won’t be for nothing.” You won’t let it either, you just need to rest for a bit, then you can get back to it.

He leans his head against yours. “We’ll get you back to your books and your quilt.”

“We’ll get out,” you whisper. Maybe if you tell yourself it enough it’ll be true.

“We’ll get out,” he echos.

After sitting like that for a few moments, collecting yourself, you choke down the stale and mostly ruined bread and little bit of ice cold water you’ll get for the day. It gives you enough energy to get back on your feet at least. Your head still throbs from the strain, but you brace yourself against the wall and will it to pass.

“Let’s try those glamors again.”

“That’s my girl,” Rhys praises.

You focus your attention on the thing that lives in your chest, hoping his position on the floor keeps him from seeing the blush that creeps its way up your neck under the possessiveness in his tone. The banter between you is one thing, but anything else is dangerous territory, and you can’t risk any more danger in your life than you already have.  

---

Time passes mostly the same after that, with a little more banter as the tension of being locked up builds between the two of you and a little less vulnerability, granted, but the training regime is the same, until your headaches become less frequent and his jabs at you make you feel less and less like a reason to bring out your claws. The shift becomes a little more bearable over time, and glamoring the bargain ink across your chest becomes the next focus. It takes all your attention for what feels like days, but it’s anyone’s guess.

The progress should make you feel more comfortable, and it does in some ways, but makes you jumpier in others. Every noise outside the door has you checking to make sure a glamor is in place, has you running your tongue over your teeth to ensure your fangs are hidden. Its been steadily getting colder in the cell, the only true indicator that time is passing, and if you can manage to sleep around the shaking of your body, your dreams have started to become less of a call of your powers and more of nightmare of clicking heels and bright red hair and rooms with black vials full of terrible potions. Rhys isn’t any better. Sometimes he wakes screaming, a bit of night chilled darkness seeping from his flushed skin. Some nights you find him staring dutifully at the door, unable to sleep at all.

You’re not sure how much more of this either of you can take before one of you starts bashing against the door again. Between the two of you, perhaps the damage he’d already done would be enough to get it open for real, but what would you do from there? It wasn’t like you could escape. Even if you managed to get out of this cell, she’d just throw you in another.

So you do your best to endure a little longer, even if that means coming up with new ways to cope with it. Cuddling with the High Lord of the Night Court hadn’t really been an option you’d considered until one night it had become so unbearably cold that you could see the clouds of your breath in the air and there wasn’t a full set of clothes between the two of you. Trying to conserve body heat, you’d rolled right into his bare chest and he’d greedily buried his freezing nose into the crook of your neck, teeth chattering against your skin. He’d mumbled something about conserving body heat and that had been all that you were willing to talk about it. From that point on, if you were tired, you’d just lay down next to his large body and let him wrap his arms around you for however long your body could manage to rest in these conditions.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong, it was that it felt right. You could see yourself tangled up like this, in a nice bed, with some warm blankets and fluffy pillows, sunlight streaming through a window above your heads, finally free and out of this terrible place. You try not to let your imagination go too far with that thought, but sometimes it’s the only reason you keep getting up and training; even if it isn’t going to happen for real, at least there’s something to imagine waiting for you at the end of this. You just make sure your shields are up when the thought runs away with you, lest he see them as his powers start to return.

“Your nose is cold,” Rhys says by way of greeting. You can only assume it’s morning, assume that your internal clock still works and that you are, in fact, still on some sort of sleep schedule, but it’s anyone’s guess really.

You crack an eye open to see what he’s talking about, grumbling about it being too early. At some point, you’d nestled quite snuggly into his chest, face buried in the crook of his neck, despite the collar.

“So are your hands,” you retort, closing your eyes again.

He drags one up your back, where the tattered remains of your dress bare your newly scarred skin, in retaliation. 

“Bastard,” you snarl but you don’t pull away. Pulling away means waking up; means counting the cracks in the ceiling again, pacing until you feel some warmth in your body again. Pulling away means you have to face another day in this cell and you’re not sure you can do it without bashing your fists into the door Rhys had nearly ruined already.

“You like having my hands on you,” he returns.

“Do I?”

“You were practically begging me to touch you on Calanmai,” he says huskily, warm breath ghosting over your ear. 

Your stomach does a little flip at the memory of his hands on you on Calanmai, at the hunger and want that had been so plain on his face you could almost taste it. Things had been so simple then, you didn’t need to worry about letting your own want show. Not like now. “Oh yes, because a night of magic induced horniness is the indicator for what I want.” 

But you do want it. Cauldron boil you do you want it. Every drag of his calloused palms across your bare skin makes you want to arch further into his touch, let him explore and taste and claim every bit of you. It’s becoming unbearable. Calanmai was nothing compared to this.

“So what do you want then?” Rhys asks as his hands draw shapes in your skin, near the base of your neck. You swear you hear a hint of vulnerability there, like there might actually be more than banter in this question.

“To sleep,” you reply, because you can’t allow anything more to happen. Amarantha already knows you care enough about him to surrender your powers, if she knew it was anything more, she’d kill him just to spite you. 

Rhys hums like he’s thinking about it, but eventually says, “We should train more. Your glamours need more work.” 

“Bite me,” you grumble. Training has become even more exhausting. It’s useful stuff for sure, but holding onto your power for too long, then stuffing it back down is starting to feel suffocating. Your powers beg to be unleashed, free and unrestrained from the boundaries you are drawing out for them. No, you can’t allow yourself to think about what you want to happen with the High Lord, but you can’t bring yourself to get up, so here you remain, in limbo between the two. Maybe if he lets you drift back to sleep you’ll never have to make a decision between the two.

He brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, “Ask nicely.”

Your treacherous heart skips a beat at the huskiness of his tone, heat flaring in the pit of your stomach. “Make me, High Lord.” 

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Darling,” he purrs, “don’t start games you can’t finish.”

You have two options here: You can leave it be and get up, leave the line you have made between the two of you right where it is and not have to worry about it; or you can hold your ground and risk stepping right over that boundary line. You know you’re teetering on the knife’s edge here.

“Why wouldn’t I finish?” You turn your head enough to look him in the eyes, batting your eyelashes in feign innocence, even though you know damn well what you’re doing. 

He moves so quickly you don't have time to realize it’s happening before he’s rolling you over onto your back, the solid, heavy weight of him pressing you into the floor. All rational thought eddies from your mind as his hips shift against your own. 

“You have a lot of attitude for someone so set on going back to bed,” he says and you can’t help but note how dilated his eyes are, the violet almost wholly consumed by his pupils. 

This somehow feels more intimate than what you had been doing on Calanmai, despite the fact that his hands were firmly planted next to your head instead of roving over your skin. Gods you hope the filth of the cell covers the scent of your budding arousal because this--him--you want, need, more of it.

“I  can be more than one thing at a time,” you reply. It’s taking all your restraint to not reach your hands out and touch the muscles that ripple across his tattooed chest from holding himself up above you. Even after a few days locked away, you can’t stop thinking about how it would taste to run your tongue over those dark swirls of ink.

His eyes narrow as if he can hear your thoughts, and shit, you realize too late that your shields have been down this whole time because you’d thought, since he was still recovering, those daemati powers would be the last to come back. There’s not time to throw your shields up before his lips are crashing into yours.

You’d thought Calanmai was as desperate for something as you’d ever feel, but it’s nothing in comparison to the hunger that consumes you as those full lips settle against your own. There’s no stopping the groan that tears itself from you as he slides a hand under your head, fingers tangling in your matted hair as he slips his tongue behind your teeth.

You see stars, taste citrus and jasmine. He invades all your senses so thoroughly that the very cell feels like it falls away until nothing exists in the world but the two of you. 

Calanmai had been feverish, an itch that needed to be scratched, but this is like finding air after being underwater too long. You can’t help but feel dizzy and greedy for more as you drag a hand up the sharp contours of his back.

He hisses softly into your mouth when your fingers accidentally brush the collar and you pull back, finally coming up for air. “Shit, shit I’m sorry-”

But he chases back after you like a man starved anyway. “It’s ok,” in between more kisses, each hungrier than the last, “it’s ok.” You’ve never heard a male’s voice get so low, the sound of it making your whole body turn molten.

Still, you’re conscious of where you put your hands, and sensing your hesitation, he drags them over to his chest, inviting you to touch, to trace his tattoos just as you were thinking about doing the first time you’d seen them. Gods there isn’t a part of him you don’t want to explore; to map out and learn every scare and curve across his bronze skin.

You would have too, if the lock on the door didn’t suddenly click out of place. The resounding echo is like ice water being dumped on your head.

Rhys slides the hand under your head down your back and around your waist, yanking you up off the floor with him while he stands. You’re still trying to get your bearings when he places one last, gentle kiss on your lips. “Remember what we practiced.”

Your head is spinning, legs shaky. Nothing makes any sense. Why is he stopping?

The door opens and more of Amarantha’s guards step in, but there’s no tray of food this time, just a single, metal collar. The sight of it is like having water dumped on your head, all thoughts of Rhys’s body on yours drifting away as reality crashes back into you. 

“Her Highness requests your presence,” says one of the two.

Only two. If they were here for Rhys there would be, at least, four, after the stunts he’d been pulling. He has to know that too, but he steps forward anyway, shrugging like it doesn’t bother him, like the smell of you isn’t all over him for anyone to scent.

One of the guards gets a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the wall. “Not you.”

Your mouth feels like it’s made of sandpaper; hands trembling at your sides. You can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t.

There’s a tug beneath your ribs, where the bargain ink lies, some sort of invisible thread going taught as Rhys says, “Breathe. Just like we practiced,” into your mind.

You want to duck behind him and hide, but you do as you’re told, drawing one breath, then another as the second guard steps forward and clamps the collar around your throat. It’s not the same, strange metal that used to dampen your power before, but why would it be when Amarantha thinks she has all your powers? As much as you hated the feeling of it, you kind of wished they’d used it instead, just as an extra barrier to keep your powers at bay.

What little bit of Rhys’s power has returned fills the cell, night chilled mist making the already dark room even harder to see in, save for a slight tint of stardust in his irises. “She’s done everything she was asked,” he snarls. “That collar isn’t necessary.”

“Her Highness says it is.”

You risk a glance at him, needing to steady yourself, dreading the fact that he’s somehow become so important to you that the thought of being taken out of this cell makes you want to start shredding things apart. How had you so quickly dug this hole for yourself.

“I’ll be right here. You can do this.”

They don’t waste any more time, dragging you out by the chain attached to the collar, like you’re some sort of wild animal. It’s degrading; makes you feel less and less like a person and more like a pet the longer time drags on. The guards are quick on their feet too, not giving you time to adjust to your surroundings or the blaring torchlights that make you squeeze your eyes shut as you pass. Cauldron, how long have you been in that cell?

You have just enough presence of mind to ensure your glamor is in place around your chest, before they’re dragging you through the open throne room doors. Another one of Amarantha’s nightly parties is in full swing, dancers in skimpy clothes spinning across the room; servants with pitchers of fae wine weave through the crowd, stopping at tables to refill the cups of several High Fae and someone you think might be the High Lord of Winter. It must be nice to have curied enough favor with the Queen that he was allowed to wander freely, instead of a cell, or, like the High Lord of Spring, chained to her throne. Tamlin’s golden hair is messy, undone around his face. The Mountain has stolen some of the color from his skin, though you suppose you look equally as pale now too. He wears his own, glittering collar, the golden chain draped over the bare expanse of his chest. Amarantha has inked her sigil over his heart, staking her claim over her mate. The High Lord’s eyes are so glassy from what you can only assume is the combination of mirthroot and fae wine that you doubt he’s even aware of where he is. It might be a small mercy, in the end.

The guards drag you through the crowd, where you earn more than a few snickers and stares. You’ve never been more aware of how much dirt clings to your skin until this moment. Gods you were making out with a High Lord looking like this? Could he taste the dirt on you? 

You’re led right to the dias, where Amarantha wears a glittering, ruby red crown, her hair unbound and falling in soft waves around her pale face. She might have been pretty once, but the cruelty in her dark gaze was enough to sour it if you looked too long. She watches with amusement as her guards drag you over, eyes glinting with barely restrained glee. Her new little pet here to entertain.

They finally quit dragging you once you’re at the foot of the dias and the crowd goes quiet behind you.

“Have you had enough time to think about what you’ve done?” She croons like you’re a misbehaving child in need of a time out.

Your cheeks flush, but you focus your attention on keeping the damper on your power. You can’t let her rile you up so easily, that’s exactly what she wants. “Yes,” you grind out through your teeth.

She taps a pointed nail against her chin, as if thinking. “And yet you do not bow in my presence, or acknowledge me as your queen?”

A tingling feeling in your upper jaw is the indication that your fangs want to come out and play and you force yourself to take a breath, then another. Still, you have to grit your teeth and stare at the floor to give her a little curtsey, as best you can in your ruined dress anyway. “My apologies.”

“Again,” she says with a grin. “Like you mean it, pet.”

There’s a couple snickers from the crowd behind you.

You’re gritting your teeth so hard you’re sure they might just crack on you, but you take your skirts in hand and curtsey a little deeper this time. The only way you get through it is to picture all the ways you’ll make her pay for this when the time is right.

“No, that’s not right,” she frowns. “You should be lower. In fact, you should be on your knees, thanking me for the mercy I have shown you after you so violently attacked me. Most people don’t live to see the next morning after such things.” The eye on her ring swivels in a motion that makes you think it’s nodding in agreement.

You risk a glance around, searching for any sympathy, and support, but there is none to be found in the leering faces of the crowd. 

“Go on,” she orders. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

Mother knows what she’ll do to you, or Rhys if you don’t, and you need to be in one piece to fulfill your bargain. Still, the move is so demeaning, your very nature thrashing against it that it’s an effort not to cry as you lower yourself onto your knees at the foot of her throne.

When you open your mouth to spew whatever bullshit you think will appease her, she cuts you off, “Lower.”

Your whole face is red with shame as you lean forward until your forehead touches the floor. 

“Better,” she croons. “Now beg, pet.”

“Please,” the word sticks in your throat like it’s a rock. “Please forgive my violent outburst. It won’t happen again.”

She clears her throat, waiting for you to say it.

“It won’t happen again, Your Highness.”

“Try again.”

The crowd is laughing in earnest now and the tears are flowing down your cheeks. You hate this, you hate her, you want to rip her fucking throat out and make that dreadful, grating voice vanish from the face of the world. 

“It won’t happen again, My Queen.”

“Much better,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “I told you I’d get her in line.” 

You raise your head off the floor enough to see who she was talking to with that last bit, and your heart lurches into your stomach at the sight of the two figures standing to the side of the dias, staring intently at you. Twins, bearing the same dark hair, swept back out of their faces, their eyes the same slate gray. They both wear armor, finely polished over matching black tunics and pants, a bit of silver lining in the stitches of their well pressed clothes. But it’s the sigil, over the heart on their armor, that marks them as Hybern’s.

The female stalks over to where you’re still kneeling and yanks you up by the hair to have a better look at you. Gloved fingers poke at your lips, trying to get a look at your teeth and you wonder if maybe you really have been turned into some sort of animal. 

“No fangs,” she muses, her voice like gravel, nothing pretty or feminine about it. “No claws either,” her hands move from your face to your nail beds, poking like you would at a cat’s paws to get their claws to come out. 

You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. 

“You’ve tested to make sure you took all of her powers?” The male asks Amarantha and your blood turns to ice in your veins. If she tries to use your powers now then you’re doomed before you even get started. 

“I’d be happy to demonstrate,” Amarantha says flippantly, but there’s an edge under it that makes you think even she is trying not to squirm. “But my formula has never failed me.”

“Yours?” The female sneers. “You’d be wise to remember who taught you how to make those potions, General.”

Hybern made Amarantha, Rhys had said, it only made sense that all these little tricks had been part of her training. 

Amarantha takes another swig of wine and waves the disrespect off like a fly. “I’ll happily throw her into the Pit again if you are both so desperate to waste your own time with a demonstration.”

They stare at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. The female finally releases your hair and the ground rises up to meet you as you nearly fall back onto your face. 

“No,” the male brushes a gloved hand over a speck of dirt clinging to his otherwise spotless armor. “I suppose that would be a waste of our time. We have other things to attend to while we’re here.”

It’s honestly a relief. Going back down into the Pit to fight more monsters without being able to summon any of your powers sounds like a complete nightmare, you’re honestly not sure you’re strong enough not to slip up and make a mistake. 

“But we can still check,” the female purrs and that’s when you feel a mental claw raking across your mind. It is not like Rhys’s, not gentle or even teasing, it’s a slash, like someone is trying to cleave through your shields with a knife, and you instantly reach your hands for your head as if it’ll be any sort of protection at all.

You don’t dare call out to Rhys, or even think about what mental hoops you need to do to hide the bargain mark, the glamor should hold for a bit on its own while you put all your energy into tightening your shields against their onslaught. Rhys had been right about your cousins’ daemati powers, they were nothing like his own.

They keep clawing and poking, taking turns trying to tear your mind to shreds. It’s not gentle either, their presence making you whimper and writhe on the throne room floor, regardless of the embarrassment from the still watching crowd. 

“Well there’s been some training here,” the female says. 

“Be careful, Brannagh,” Amarantha hisses. “If you turn her mind to soup she’ll be of no use to us.”

You lock every door and throw up every barrier you can muster, even as they throw themselves against each one, testing for weaknesses. They’re an excellent tag team, every time you think Brannagh might give up, her brother steps into her place and tries again. You’re seeing spots by the time they release you.

The male’s boots come into view as he stops in front of your face. “If you’re so beaten, why won’t you show us how powerless you are, hm?”

It feels like someone’s taking a hammer to your skull, you pinch your eyes shut against the wave of nausea that makes the room spin. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” you hiss.

He too grabs you by the hair, twisting you so your neck moves at an awkward angle to be able to see exactly how badly the remark had hit him. 

“Dagdan,” his sister warns. “Play nice. Our King wants her alive, remember?”

“They said your mother was this untamed too,” he hisses. “Before they broke her.”

You swallow the rage that rises up in your throat, clamp down on everything threatening to bubble to the surface and overflow, ruining all your plans. You have made it this far, you cannot let their presence get the best of you. There will be time to process all this later, when you’re back in your cell. Strangely, the thought of going back to Rhys soothes you, helps you settle. 

“Are you done messing with my things?” Amarantha asks.

“She’s only yours until Hybern arrives to lay claim to Prythian, as is his right,” Brannagh says loud enough for the whole room to hear her. If there was any partying still happening in the corners of the room, it has ceased now, all eyes on the twins.

Amarantha is standing, wine glass clattering to the floor, splattering Tamlin, who doesn’t even look at it. “That’s enough! You will mind your mouths in my Court!”

Dagdan chuckles at that. “Did your Queen not tell you the truth?” Having found a new victim to play with, he finally releases your hair. 

“I said enough!” Amarantha booms, both fire and ice flying from her fingertips. The Mountain trembles beneath her as the powers she’s stolen skitter uncontrollably from her. One eye blazes like a forest fire, the other has gone black and empty, a bit of Rhys’s stolen power flaring. “In my Throne Room you answer to me, regardless of who you serve.”

With the way she jerks back you think the twins might have reached for her mind to silence her, but you can’t be sure. 

“You answer to Hybern, same as everyone else!” Brannagh challenges. “You were nothing more than an experiment, to test and see if Prythian was once again fertile ground for our empire. Did you really think Hybern would just let you walk in here and steal what is rightfully his?”

The crowd begins to whisper amongst themselves, apparently having not heard the news until now. You risk a glance around looking for the other High Lords, hoping some of them, perhaps the ones who had sides against Hybern in the War would be more inclined to fight. If you could gain allies, perhaps this would be over quicker. 

There are many unrecognizable faces in the crowd, some High Fae, some lower, some concealed by the masks of Tamlin’s former court, some fully clothed in their servants’ garb. It is hard to discern between the glittering chandeliers and flickering torches who belongs to what court, and you have only vaguely glimpsed the High Lords themselves. Out of most of the faces, none even look your way, save for one red headed male, off to the side of a group of fire dancers. Golden eyes lock on yours for the briefest of moments before they dart away. If only you had your own daemati powers, perhaps this would be easier. You’ll have to talk to Rhys later about who your potential allies can be here.

“I was promised my part of the land and I will fucking have it,” Amarantha growls, turning your attention away from the crowd.

“You will take what you are given,” Dagdan returns. “And if you cooperate, maybe you will be allowed to keep this dingy little cave of yours.”

Amarantha bristles and sparks fly off her shoulders. 

“You will do your part for the new empire,” Brannagh continues. “Lend us the Lord of Spring to lead us to the Wall. We’ll consider it proof of your undying allegiance and let your outburst slide.”

Amarantha glances down at where Tamlin remains staring at the wall, hands tightening into fists. “Absolutely not!”

“We can take him by force,” Dagdan says with a shrug.

She grabs the chain around her mate’s neck and yanks, dragging him to his feet. “I want him back by morning.”

Brannagh steps over you to get to him, gloved hands running appreciatively over the High Lord’s bare chest. “Maybe I’ll keep him.”

The wrong thing to say. Amarantha erupts in a wave of fire that has everyone throwing themselves out of the way. You roll backwards, away from it, slipping into the crowd. You think they might start fighting--they’re definitely screaming you can tell that much--when a set of hands settles on your shoulders, in what would look like to onlookers was a stranger helping you up, but those hands don’t lift, they hold you in place. 

“Whatever Rhys is planning with you,” warm breath frames your face as the stranger puts his lips to your ear. “Tell him to move quickly. My father will side with Hybern and surrender up whatever army we have left at the earliest chance. He’ll want to get ahead of this. Summer and Winter do not have the strength to fight. Tell him Hellion is with us.”

Us. You risk a glance at him, at the auburn hair falling into your eyes. Not the High Lord of Autumn, but one of his sons. 

“I’ll tell him,” you say softly, praying no one hears.

The male helps you to your feet. “Be careful. We might only get one chance.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd as the two females on the dias finally start to calm.

Amarantha is bleeding from a gash across her forehead, but Brannagh is laughing as she lets the blood from her nose drip freely down her face. “Mating bond chafing?”

Dagdan has managed to shield Tamlin, sparing him, of no kindness of his own, he is as inclined to look at the High Lord like he’d be his next meal as his sister.

“Get out,” Amarantha snarls.

Dagdan twirls Tamlin’s chain around his fingers. “We want proof the girl will be loyal when the time comes.”

“If a hair is harmed on my mate’s head,” Amarantha snarls in return. “I’ll pin you to my fucking wall.”

“Scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back his head and I’ll take the girl and her powers back to Hybern, where we train in breaking goddesses.”

A few people in the crowd glance your way. 

Shit, that’s what Rhys had been trying to tell you with that book he’d sent in your first couple of days here. Hybern had found a way to breed death gods. Your name would be on that list he’d made in the margins.

A guard finally comes to collect you as the twins drag Tamlin out of the throne room. Amarantha is apparently not done with her tantrum, as she begins throwing anything in reach, stolen powers swirling around her like a whirlwind. The crowd begins to slip away, fearing her wrath if they stay. For now, you’ve managed to keep your bargain and your powers secret, but your cousin’s words hang over you like a ticking clock. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she has to test you. 

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

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[corvidcrossbow]

➳ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐰 🪶🏹

Hey y'all welcome to the absolute dumpsterfire of my brainrot (blog), you can call me Corvid or Harbinger

Ima lover of all things Norman Reedus, n obviously TWD + Daryl Dixon. I also really like crows, and Qrow Branwen from RWBY – hence my user

Below is my masterlist that I'll update w/ time, then more about me. I lurked on here for way too long

❥-》》—————➣

♡ = Sweet ♧ = Angsty ♤ = Smutty

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𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 ♡

➳ Drabbles:

Daryl w/ Hazey by GA ♧

Mother's Day ♡ ♤

Purring ♡ ♤

Hip Bones ♤

Lazy Morning Sex ♤

Daryl Likes Puzzles ♡ ♧

Falling Asleep in Sex ♡ ♤

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Father's Day ♡ ♧

➳ Short Stories:

I Like It Long ♤

Double The Fangs, Double The Fun ♤ (vamp + Scud)

Daddy's Little Dhampir ♡ ♧

Intruders ♡ ♤

Total Eclipse Of The Heart ♡

What One Has ♡ ♧

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡 "𝐒𝐜𝐮𝐝" 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐫 ♡

➳ Drabbles:

Scud's a Nerd ♡

❥-》》—————➣

Requests; are currently open for Daryl & Scud

Req info (please read before sending in 💛)

❥-》》—————➣

➳ Feel free to send me inboxes about other things too!; questions, comments, chatty stuff, etc. I love interacting with y'all!!

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[phoenix-fell]

Anti-Bumbleby criticisms answered with BB analysis - Big post

As expected, as Bumbleby gets more attention from the show, the anti-BB crowd have surfed in on their tidal wave of bitter lemons. So, I’d like to put my degree, job and training to use and compile my thoughts down in one place - a one-stop shop if you will - it’s long and will be largely unfiltered as I tackle the weirdest and most common criticisms and BB analysis. (I kinda miss Bumbleby analysis Megaposts, I might make one sometime to go alongside this as a point of reference as most I’ve seen end around Vol 6).

TIA for anyone who actually takes the time to read my ramblings and please feel free to give your thoughts/analysis and I’ll edit it in. FIRST EDIT - 8th Mar 2023 presenting labels and sexuality in Remnant - 4th from end.

Credentials: Double major 1st class grad in Literature and Creative Writing, specialising in fairy tales and WLW representation in media. Recipient of dissertation award exploring character psyche and the presentation of psychological themes. Literary critic, writer and content specialist. 

Let’s start off with a cracker from Reddit!

“Why couldn’t the BB scenes be more of a background thing? Why do they need to focus on them like they’re a main plot or something?”

Is... Is it stuffy under all that homophobia? I could easily rhyme off a string of sarcastic quips like ‘gee, I wonder why, it’s almost like it’s important to the development of two of the main characters or something.’ But it’s so lost on some people that I’mma spell it out:

We’ve seen Blake and Yang’s trauma painted across the screen from ‘Burning the Candle’ when Yang first confesses her abandonment issues, to the White Fang / Adam arcs that gave us a picture of the abuse Blake has endured - not just as a Faunus, but from her partner (“Adam used to get into my head, make me feel small.”), right through to their separation that dealt with their respective issues with running away/being abandoned and the shared trauma which has tied them both together indefinitely. They’ve been apart, they’ve repaired their relationship, they’ve grown together. In a current volume that’s so inherently focused on character’s individual development, seeing Blake and Yang together was almost inevitable as they’ve been so completely involved in one another’s development throughout the entire series. This is without going into their fairy tale allusions that tie them together which I’ll go into further down or the references to Yin/Yang and numerous romantic tropes that show how integral they are to one another’s characters. Contrary to belief, it’s not romance for the sake of romance - in this instance, the romance very much strengthens their development individually.

Asides from all of this, it was decided from the very beginning that Yang would lose her arm (foreshadowed in the Yellow trailer). The moment they decided that Yang would lose her arm protecting Blake, was the moment a decision was made to invariably tie these two narratives together on a very fundamental level.

But also, don’t clown yourself into thinking you’re not a homophobe if you think any LGBT content belongs in the background whilst also rejoicing any onscreen developments between straight ships.

“If BB was meant to be a thing then they wouldn’t have had Sun as a romantic interest.”

Is there a universe where love triangles and bisexuals are a foreign concept?

But in all seriousness, I think that certain corners of fanbases seem to struggle with any concepts that are non-linear; something I often see with anime. By ��linear’, I mean: love interest introduced > build up > canon > together forever. As opposed to ‘non-linear’; a character that goes on their own journey of discovery and, through which, has more than one interest and path over time and has the ability to change their mind. The show was never a ‘romance’ as a primary theme; it’s an action/adventure which has some romantic subplots. But to honest, Blake changing her mind shouldn’t really be this much of a shock to the fanbase given that our FIRST ever interaction with Blake, in her TRAILER, is her changing her mind about her partner (and first romantic interest) and deciding to pursue a new journey. A scene which is actually referred back to in the Season 6 opener when Blake uncouples the train and sees what she believes to be a hallucination of a hooded Adam on the opposite carriage, foreshadowing the importance of that original decision later in the series (“you didn’t leave scars, you just left me, alone”). 

The arc that follows Blake thereafter is inherently tied to Adam (amongst other important themes), who is predominantly based off Gaston and the rose (or curse of the rose) from Beauty and the Beast. Blake and Yang are interchangeably alluded to as both Belle and the Beast throughout their character arcs from as early as the Red Trailer: “Black the beast descends from shadows / Yellow beauty burns gold.” and as recently as Blake describing Yang to the Hunter Mice in Vol. 9 Chapter 1. I can rhyme off these allusions until I’m blue, but again, I may save this for a master post.

The story that Blake is based on is a love triangle - she was never meant to have one set path from the beginning and romantic interests were always meant to play a huge part in Blake’s story/development; she was always going to have a romantic decision to make after conquering the curse / Gaston. Blake being haunted by her first romantic interest is foreshadowed in the ending of her trailer and first referenced in her conversation (with Yang) at Mountain Glen, and becomes an undeniable path of exploration once Yang loses her arm to Adam at the end of Volume 3. Let it be noted that Sun was present when Yang announced she was going to find Blake at the Battle of Beacon - a decision was made here for Yang to be the one to lose her arm protecting Blake, as was Adam’s poignant promise to take away everything Blake loves - “starting with [Yang]” or, otherwise, the solidifying of this romantic subplot. Which, again, is called back to with the infamous line: “What does she even see in you?” besides the obvious subtext, it’s setting the stage for these parallels between Adam and Yang, past and future, the previous love interest identifying something in Blake that used to be reserved for him, now directed towards Yang.

This season began with Blake declaring that Yang “seems scary, but isn’t”. Because, once Belle knows the Beast isn’t scary, she allows herself to fall in love (conveniently, this is said whilst walking through a fairy tale).

I could go into a big post about romantic foils and the ways in which Yang, Adam and Blake are all foils to each other but I might make a separate post instead for anyone new to the FNDM. Either way, I feel it’s worth mentioning as it’s Blake who directly compares Yang to a past love interest who was designed with semblances and characteristics that mirror each other. Point being, no one should be shocked that Blake has multiple interests given the character and fairy tale she’s based off and heavy allusions where Yang is concerned.

“Oh yeah, because Yang ‘literally purred at guys in their underwear’ Xiao Long and Blake ‘literally kissed a boy’ Belladonna are clearly bisexual because of [insert out of context reasons]” and “yes but Monty said...”

1. You mean... the one, and only one scene in 9 entire volumes where Yang shows any interest (albeit jokingly) in a guy, and the literal scene directly before she sees Blake from across the crowded room and proceeds to never express interest in men again? (Ignoring the very obvious implied trope here). And, in fact, only expresses interest in a woman from this point onwards? This is your frame of reference? Personally, I find it quite lovely that Yang’s perspective is never the same from the moment she sees Blake. Asides from this, while ‘bisexual’ is the label that these guys have gone with, Yang’s sexuality hasn’t been confirmed outside of being sapphic - it’s not outside the realm of possibility that she is, in all likelihood, lesbian. It’s important to note here that any young character expressing an interest in a man would not invalidate that same character being a lesbian. In fact, if we apply this to real life, it’s not uncommon for people not to realise that they’re queer immediately (I myself didn’t until I was 21). But in the opening episodes of the series especially, I’d very much chalk this up to writers exploring the characters.

2. As for Blake - there are, from what I remember, three kisses in the entire show so far. The one between Jaune and Pyrrha - on the lips after prolonged romantic allusions between the two (their romance is explicitly referenced by Nora - “practice what you preach, Pyrrha.” - almost fitting that it’s Nora to call out the Bees in Season 7 - A Night Off, no? Neat little parallel for y’all). The one between Ren and Nora after trying to work out the status of their romantic relationship - again, on the lips. And the one where Blake says goodbye (and thank you) to Sun by kissing him... On the cheek. (So hot, I know). Which is immediately followed up with Sun telling Neptune “it was never about that”. One of these is not like the other, can you guess which? I’ll wait.

As for referencing Monty - I could go on all day about this one, and the quote most notoriously used is ‘they’re a sisterhood’. Firstly, let me just say that I find it disturbing that anyone would use the show’s deceased creator as ammunition, whilst also disregarding his other comments on LGBT rep - specifically, ‘maybe there are LGBT characters there now / they’re just kids rn and figuring it out / it needs to be earned’. But also, it’s really disturbing and egotistical that anybody would pretend to know what Monty wanted better than the crew he handpicked, worked with, collaborated with and was friends with (special mention to the fact that his own brother is one of the cast). If you truly want to honour his legacy, then show respect to the people he put his trust in.

“I don’t have an issue with BB, but why does it always have to take away from Yang’s moments with Ruby?” / “All Yang’s feelings for her sister transferred to Blake.”

One from the hall of fame. The age old question of ‘can a girl have a romantic partner and still care about her family?’ I wish this wasn’t a serious question, but there are actual sides of the Fandom that seem to think that Yang’s forgotten about her sister that she raised because she has feelings for someone and that the sole purpose of Yang’s existence is to be her sister’s keeper.

I’mma address this on 3 fronts. 1 - Logistically, the episodes for RWBY, excluding the intros, are 15-20 mins long currently and typically oversee several different storylines particularly as the cast grows larger, leaving us with... What? About 5 minutes of team RWBY interactions? It’s not a lot of time to pack in character development, relationship development, plotline, strategy etc. so often if they’re wanting to develop more than one relationship, they will alternate between putting these themes in the background (such as the yellow in Blake’s sword, references from other characters etc.) and foreground, and some developments have to be shoulder-to-shoulder to fit them in. This isn’t an indicator of how much one character cares for one another and is more a demon created by people’s perception of how they ‘think’ a protective sister should act.

Additionally, it should be noted that Yang fawning over Ruby and not allowing her to develop other relationships outside of her sister, would actually offer us nothing from a development perspective for both Yang and Ruby’s characters and would, instead, steer these two strong female characters down a path of co-dependency. 

2 - It feels like a very easy excuse for Anti-BB folk to throw out there, conveniently forgetting how great of a sister Yang actually is (contrary to the number of RWDE videos I’ve seen arguing otherwise, as this is an essay I could write in itself). These very often take isolated incidents out of context and conveniently forget important information like Yang 1. Literally sacrificing herself twice to protect her sister 2. Sacrificing her entire childhood to raise her sister and 3. Importantly, the fact that Ruby is her (self-sufficient) Team Leader needs to be factored into their dynamic, as Yang gives her space to find herself as a leader and steps in when her sister actually needs her - not when the audience thinks she does. People hear ‘protectiveness’ and seem to think that this should mean that Yang should be overbearing. 

3 - Anyone who says this doesn’t have siblings. I have older and younger siblings and, having largely raised my younger sibling, I can safely say that I still love them even when I’m in a relationship. I also feel extremely secure in arguing/disagreeing with any of my siblings because I inherently know they will still be there at the end of the day - a sibling love goes deep (referencing ‘Fault’ from Volume 8). However, in a romantic relationship that is not established and very new... you will feel insecure, that’s normal, it doesn’t have the luxury of established stability that siblings do, and therefore you will overtly express more anxiety about this as a result. It’s a very strange concept that if you have a sibling, you need to give them all of your attention and ignore any love interests. Yang has gone through her own traumas, she has every right to care about others, heal herself, and have a life that isn’t defined by being a caretaker for her sister. ESPECIALLY as she already gave up her childhood to fulfil this role, unselfishly AND as the person she’s bonding with is best poised to understand Yang’s trauma. Yang as a character deserves to receive the love she constantly gives out. Again, this is a demon born from the fact that it either doesn’t reflect the relationship commentors have with their siblings, or the fact that they’re *imagining* how that relationship should be.

Bonus picture below: Yang putting aside her anguish for Summer Rose, who she considered to be her mother, to prioritise comforting her sister about that same loss.

“I hate BB shippers because they pass off BS interactions as platonic. BS made more sense, there was no build-up to BB until Vol 6 and they let the BS build-up go to waste to force BB.”

First off, there’s nothing wrong with BlackSun as a ship. Shipping shouldn’t be dictated by canonicity and people have the right to ship it and to their opinions. And while a few of these seem to have referenced BS, I don’t actually think that BS shippers are at fault for the hatred coming this way, but rather that the ship seems to get used as ammunition from the Anti-BB crowd - to summarise, Anti-BB and BS shippers are not synonymous. I personally don’t ship BS, but I do enjoy the debate and actually think that Sun is a very important part of Blake’s development and arc. There did seem to be some form of mutual attraction between Blake and Sun. Had they gone down that route, I wouldn’t have hated it, I just never felt excited by it, which seems to be a large consensus amongst BB fans. An appreciation whilst feeling there was a better alternative.

Believing all the development between Sun and Blake was ‘wasted’ is also very closed-minded given how much he helped Blake in the White Fang arc and also disregards the importance of their friendship. BS has the potential to be one of the best and most supportive friendships in the series, I stand by that.

That said, I don’t think it’s entirely wrong to acknowledge that a lot of (not all) interactions between BS were platonic from Blake’s pov while Sun’s feelings were more explicit. The only real hint I saw of Blake reciprocating was a blush at the Vytal festival. Maybe the dance at a stretch, but there’s hints at both BS and BB and I will fight you on it. Now, it might be a question of timing; Adam was still a prevalent threat during this time which will have been weighing on Blake given the resurgence of the White Fang, and is clear when Adam rocks up seeking vengeance in Volume 3. For this reason, I honestly think it would have been disingenuous to have explored Blake in a full relationship with anyone at this point given these loose ends, and Blake undergoes a lot of development over volumes 4-6 as a direct result of this.

Additionally, if BB didn’t begin until Volume 6 then that means that BS had 4-5 volumes to happen - 2 of which where they were in their own arc, separated from the main cast. It didn’t happen. What happens instead is Blake’s guilt over Yang weighs heavily on her while she deals with her arc and Sun helps her come to terms with this, ultimately redirecting her back to her team, and Yang, while Sun’s interactions with her become increasingly platonic from his side.

Lastly, the only way you don’t see build up for BB, is if you actively will yourself not to see build-up. If you replace Blake and Yang’s moments with Sun, I don’t feel there’d be any misunderstandings on how these moments are supposed to be interpreted. Take off the hetero goggles, and we’re cool. 

But on a sidenote and personal pet peeve of mine, the cries of ‘BB is forced while BS had build-up’ will forever irritate me - BB has a slow burn, a full arc, developed from a friendship and partnership as well as several tropes and allusions without going into too much detail. BS, firstly, never ended up happening, but it starts when Sun runs past, winks at Blake, magically knows she’s a faunus, then proceeds to follow around a girl he doesn’t know for two days who, at his own admission, didn’t speak that whole time. But... BB is forced? I’d say it’s subjective, but logic defies when this is the barometer for a natural introduction of a romantic pair.

“BB is ‘queerbait’”

Let’s address the ‘Goliath’ in the room, shall we? ‘Queerbaiting’ gets thrown around like a reflex at the moment by pseudo-fans who I don’t believe actually know the gravity of their statements or the meaning behind the word. I often see this slur paired with BB being strung out to keep the shippers watching. Now, there’s an essay in itself that could exist in this section, but are people really still clowning themselves that a show that’s explicitly shown that it wants to have queer representation in the cast and foreground is ‘queerbaiting’ it’s audience? Even weirder for me is the part of the FNDM saying that it’ll be baiting if they make BB canon. Please stop this nonsense and do some research.

Now, one thing I would like to tackle is that, sadly, some will still see pairings on the show through heteronormative glasses, so let me use that here. If the pair were a m/f couple and had several seasons of development and increasingly intimate moments, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that 1. It was heading in the direction of canon and 2. That it was a slow burn romance that’s building to its’ climax. Interestingly, the show actually does use the hetero goggles to frame BB on several occasions by paralleling this budding romance with several straight ships such as Arkos and Renora. Why? Because this is a narrative technique often used by writers to frame LGBT romances to separate them from ‘just friendships’ and, let’s face it, use an unconscious heteronormative bias to their advantage.

“BB is badly written, they barely interacted in volumes 1-3 then didn’t speak for two volumes.”

Tickle me pink. Volumes 1-3 are a very strange reference point for ‘in-depth’ development between characters. Crumbs, sure. The odd scene, absolutely. But let’s be real here - the show started as a low budget web series with an onus on cool fighting scenes and, most importantly, the episodes were around 5 minutes long whilst entertaining teams RWBY and JNPR, the White Fang, the Vytal tournament and several other plots. Nobody particularly interacted much but the writers did the best they could with what they had and the rest is left to us, the audience, to interpret that relationships are developing off-screen. Though from a critique POV in the interest of fairness, I would say the current season is a breath of fresh air by re-focusing the plot on the central characters as I think the show can sometimes be guilty of taking on too many plotlines.

As for volumes 4-5, while they’re in different continents, it’s obvious that they’re prevalent in each other’s arcs. Whether it’s Yang admitting she’s struggling with Blake’s abandonment - in the same episode the first lesbian character is revealed confessing their feelings to Blake (sidenote, all of team RWBY left Yang, and it’s Blake she’s mad at, this was always meant to be framed differently to her other teammates and IMO the struggle they go through is meant to frame the characters coming to terms with the depth of what they mean to each other), the parallels of them both getting onto the ship (named ‘Pride’ - wink wink), or Blake actively struggling to talk about Yang, yet referencing it when Sun is hurt (“Not again!”) showing it’s at the forefront of her mind. All of which culminates in their reunion in the Vol 5 finale.

Is it the best writing ever? No, nothing’s perfect. But they do explicitly use parallels throughout the series to drive the narrative forward as a foreshadowing tool to strengthen subplots.

“Blake being bisexual makes no sense - she was interested in Sun, it just seems so out of the blue, she and Yang just seemed like friends to me.”

Funny, because she and Sun seemed like friends to me too.

There are so many things I wanted to fire back at this, from the insinuation that if a woman first shows interest in a man then it’s out of the blue that she’s bisexual now that she’s showing interest in a woman... Like, how do you think it happens for bisexuals IRL?! Did you want her to burst onto the scene in Volume 1, announce she likes men and women, and then express explicit simultaneous interest in both of them? Start a harem? Proposition a throuple?

This particular take amuses me most of all as someone who is very openly bisexual. Yes, she and Yang seemed like friends. Great friends, in fact. That hold hands and blush and want to spend all their time together. And check each other out when the other isn’t looking. And make excuses for casual physical contact and flirt and giggle like a couple of giddy teenagers. Just like me and my ‘best friend’ did, before I realised I was bi. I’m sure that a lot of people thought it came out of the blue for me too. Blake being oblivious to being bisexual until it becomes too obvious to ignore is actually a very realistic scenario.

Bonus headline - just because you don’t understand/identify with something, doesn’t mean that it’s not good representation or realistic. I feel it’s also important to mention Blake’s VA, Arryn Zech, is bisexual and has spoken numerous times on the matter. The reason I bring this up is because it’s clear that the way in which the bisexuality of her character is presented on the show is actually something that’s incredibly important to Arryn - because good representation is significant. 

Presenting labels and sexuality on Remnant: A Theory and - “BB is a terrible representation of LGBT and your critique ignores the female and LGBT people that have spoken out against it.”

They say, to someone who is both female and LGBT. Credit to the Anon who charged into my inbox to accuse me of the above - hope you enjoy. Now, there’s a couple of things I’d like to cover before I go into how sexuality is perceived in-universe. The first is that if you use this argument against someone who is queer without seeing the belligerent hypocrisy of your statement, please check yourself as, clearly, you only care about LGBT voices on representation when it aligns with your own rhetoric and ready to dismiss any narrative to the contrary from that same community.

Secondly,  the queer/LGBT community is a vast and vibrant community of *individuals* with their own opinions and own voices. I didn’t nominate anyone to speak on my behalf, just as I don’t speak on the behalf of the rest of the community. Moreover, any art is open to interpretation. My opinion does not override theirs, nor does their opinion erase my own. And, believe it or not, it’s quite possible to have two or more differing opinions within one community without being at war with one another. I respect their opinion, just as I hope they respect mine.

We clear? Great. Onto the analysis! Huge shoutout to @crimsonxe​ for the brilliant discussion and assistance with the analysis in the comments that helped me construct this section! You’re awesome.

Let’s dive in with the headline - Homophobia doesn’t appear to be an issue on Remnant and labels don’t appear to exist, in the sense that it doesn’t appear anywhere in-universe. Now just to pre-emptively disclaimer: this may change, but in 9 volumes and however many supplementary materials, we’ve not heard any labels or had any representation of this type of discrimination. If that changes, I’ll happily remove this. 

So why is this important, you ask? Ultimately, when you take away the inherent ‘fear’ that a lot of the LGBT community face IRL along with prevalent ignorance towards the community and society’s insistence on labelling sexualities and gender identity, it creates a world divorced from our own and is, from a narrative point of view, a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it allows the characters to explore themselves in a non-discriminatory environment that is inherently more fluid and free, whilst the audience will inevitably want to compare that to their own experiences. But we can’t - not properly - due to the still very real stigma and discrimination that exists in our own world. Instead, what we see are characters who express an interest in other characters and find other ways to allude to their preferences or identity. A prime example of this would be May, canonically a trans character, who does not use this term in-world but instead says, “To the Marigolds that meant I wasn’t their son, and I made sure everyone knew I wasn’t their daughter.” This is a theme that is poignantly reflected in the accompanying media for the series - such as the books; for instance, Coco, canonically lesbian, referring to “breaking the hearts of many women.”

How does this tie into the relationship with Blake and Yang? Glad you asked. If you bear in mind that Remnant has a very fluid outlook on sexuality and more of a ‘love who you love’ ethos which is blind to gender norms, it immediately subverts the assumption that interactions between m/f are romantic while f/f are platonic. It’s an open field, if you will. BB is a steady build from partner/best friend (though I’d argue that at least Yang had an immediate attraction, with Blake figuring herself out) with interactions that become increasing more intimate. Eye rolls and jokes become winks and innuendo (“I love it when you’re feisty!”), nudges become intimate hugs (Burning the Candle), become hand-holding (it isn’t coincidence that these two have held hands more than any other pair in the series), becomes pining, blushing, forehead touches (BB and Renora - remember those parallels), which evolves into flirting and... More. And yes, some of their interactions will still resemble the friendship they built their foundations on. But in a world where labels don’t exist, that journey from friend-to-lover is much more subtle and embedded in a gentle upwards curve of increasing intimacy.

“BB is only happening because the horrible BB fans demanded it, the show caved and gave in to the toxic fanbase, it wasn’t planned from the beginning.”

I’ve seen this in so many places, like a broken record. I have no doubt that there are BB fans that are fanatical, and I’d never justify the behaviour of any so-called fan that resorts to death threats or violence in any way. I’m hoping this surely must be a minority that has, hopefully, shrunk over the years as the audience has matured. However, this also really isn’t how shows work... 

As many have pointed out in recent weeks, the show would be a very different landscape altogether if CRWBY were, in fact, that easily swayed by fans; namely, I’m thinking of Clover/Qrow, Pyrrha, Penny etc. While I don’t doubt that show-makers pay attention to the fanbase where needed and where it’ll be beneficial (seeing how fans react to developments, if allusions are clear etc.), sending death threats or whatever is actually much more counterproductive than anything else. But also... You’re not on the crew, you’re not part of those discussions. I feel confident that Miles, Kiersi and Kerry aren’t writing BB content with a gun to their head.

Lastly, the ‘it wasn’t planned from the beginning’ war cry is a tale as old as time. Like Beauty and the Beast. (See what I did there?) Asides from the fact that 1. Yang and Blake were actually the first created out of the team, and made with each other in mind, regardless of in what context (check out the original character designs/concepts) 2. Even if it wasn’t planned from the beginning, what difference does it make? There are tonnes of examples where the writers have felt the chemistry between two characters as the story’s gone on and decided to put them together (case-in-point from outside the anime world.. Chandler and Monica from Friends). In fact, while some writers like to plan every element of their plot from the beginning, there’s a great many writers who allow the characters to steer the plot as they grow - especially arcs with romantic undertones. The series was made predominantly for the action - it’s not a romantic series, so if they didn’t plan it from the beginning that wouldn’t be unusual, especially given that the episodes of the first few volumes are literally 5-10 minutes long. But regardless of whether the romance of the two was planned or not planned, it does not make it any less meaningful.

But let’s be real, the issue at heart isn’t that they weren’t sucking face in the first 3 seasons, it’s that they thought Blake would be with a guy, and she chose a girl. To which I say... Get over your bruised ego, and move on.

“BB fans deserve the hate they get because of x, y, z and cos it has toxic shippers.”

And you’re... Not... Toxic? If you’re an Anti-BB shipper and go out of your way to stalk and comment on BB tags/accounts just to harass shippers etc, then are you any better than the toxic fans you supposedly hate? To me, following BB tags and looking at BB content whilst being an Anti-BB shipper is so weird, why you trying to hurt your own feelings?

Also, saying that innocent shippers who are just living their best life should bear the burden of the toxic FNDM, is literally the definition of tarring everyone with the same brush. Some of us just want to eat our crumbs in peace, and from our POV, you’re the toxic ones being disrespectful. Bonus point: others being toxic does not give you licence to be hateful to anyone you come across that doesn’t agree with you.

“I’m no longer watching the show cos it’s trying too hard to be ‘woke’”

This ain’t an airport, you don’t need to announce your departure. But since you are, if your issue is the gay representation in the show then wake up and look around... We’re everywhere. The show is literally just reflecting the diversity you see day-to-day; but you keep sipping that haterade, my dude, we’re here to stay.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chap 2: Exodus

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey growls loudly at the creatures as they come close. His marks start to flicker, as if they want to glow bright with his ninpo but can't anymore. Some part of Raph wonders what that means... but currently, he's terrified of what Mikey is going to do.

He's never heard him growl like that.

It's deep and guttural, much lower than Mikey has ever made his voice go.

Mikey suddenly lunges, running on all fours at the army of mutated monsters coming at them.

One creature that looks like it may have once been part wolf tries to swipe at him, but Mikey dodges it and swings his tail at him instead, sweeping out the hind legs and causing it to trip. Mikey's tail suddenly becomes sentient, grabs the hound and swings it like a club, knocking back several mutated animals before tossing the wolf like the world's furriest bowling ball. It slams into a row of oncoming beasts, slowing them down.

Raph can't let Mikey do this alone.

That's not what brothers do.

Not again.

He punches his fists together, creating two large hologram arms, and charges to join the fray.

Mikey is becoming wilder and wilder by the second, his grimace turning into a nasty snarl with sharp fangs beginning to jutt out. His eyes begin getting wider, the red irises glowing brighter and brighter. There are strange spines starting to creep out of his shell, the scales on his arms becoming sharp scutes like armor. Even his whipping tail -- which was much shorter before this crazy thing -- is starting to grow spines on it, the end practically looking like a mace or medieval weapon.

Raph is starting to get scared of his baby brother.

"Mikey! Mikey, you okay?" he asks, as he pushes several mutated raccoons and beavers aside.

Mikey doesn't respond beyond a gravelly low growl as he grabs a mutant badger by the tail and flings it into a wall.

How many animals are there?!

The hall is starting to fill up!

"Mike, we gotta get outta here! I can't hold these guys off for much longer!" he grunts, creating a few extra hologram arms to help ward off the rest. "Plus, I don't wanna hurt em!"

Mikey doesn't seem to hear him as he roars at the hoard. A few creatures start to back away in fright, before what looks like a mix between a boar and a porcupine starts running at them.

"That's our cue!" Raph shouts, grabbing Mikey. The spines and spikes protruding from his shell stab his palms and scrape his arms...

Mikey whirls around and bites Raph hard on the hand.

He yelps as he drops him. There's a mark on his hand, a deep indent. A small puncture wound begins to turn bright red. A tiny flow of blood begins to form just above his thumb.

Raph stares at Mikey.

Mikey glares back, the glow in his eyes bright as the blood on his hand.

"...Mikey...?"

His voice is a whisper. He can't stop shaking.

A moment passes and the glow in Mikey's eyes begins to dissipate, the spikes and spines slowly creeping back into his shell and skin. His tail smoothes out and starts to curl around his feet. His demeanour shifts, from one of a feral animal to a scared kid slowly coming out of a tantrum. He looks at Raph in fear as he realizes what he did. He whimpers, backing away slowly...

"Wait, it's okay! Really, I'm not mad, I --"

The mutant boar reaches them, slamming head-first into Mikey and throwing him into a wall. Mikey grunts with pain, a large crater forming in the drywall where he landed. He gets up quickly, his eyes immediately shifting back to red as he goes to retaliate.

Raphael watches in shock and horror as Mikey grabs the boar by the tusks and rips them out from his jaw. The pig squeals in agony and charges again, two smaller tusks quickly starting to grow back almost instantly.

"MIKEY!!"

"R--aph! Ra-- Come in, do y-- read me--?"

"Leo?!"

Raph looks down at his communicator. He totally forgot about it for a second... Leo and Donnie had been searching the other floors of the facility looking for Mikey, too! He should have let them know he'd found him --

"RAPH! I repeat, Raph, can you hear me?!"

"Yeah!" he shouts back over the screaming behind him. "I read you, Leo!"

"What the heck is all that noise?!"

"Long story short, I found Mikey. We need an escape, like, NOW."

"Donnie's on it," comes a second voice on the comms. "What floor are you on?"

"Five," he responds quickly, ducking from another mutant's attack. "I think we've been made. There were cages filled with animals and they all got released at once!"

"I'm coming now!" Donnie shouts. Raph can hear his hovershell whirr in the background, wind start whipping past the mic as he speeds towards them.

"Leo, where are you?"

"I just came from the basement. You guys will never believe what I found --"

"You can tell us on the way home, but we have to go NOW!!"

For a moment, Raph forgets that he isn't the leader anymore. For a moment, he's in charge and it's all on him to get them out. He's in control of everything and doesn't have to wait on Leo to make a self-sacrificing decision to solve everything like he tends to do.

"Okay, boss man. I'll meet you all outside in the turtle tank."

Raph sighs with relief.

"Got it. Donnie, ETA?"

"Right behind you -- oh what in the name of unholy science is that?!"

Raph turns around to see Donnie slowly coming to a halt, hovering over Mikey. The box turtle has defeated the boar at this point, slamming it hard into a wall until the boar slumped with a groan onto the floor.

"Is... is that Mikey --"

"Donnie, just find us an exit!" Raph shouts as he grabs Mikey, who doesn’t bite him again but struggles against his hold until he sees who's holding him.

"R-right... right... Uh, take a left, that window leads directly to the alley where Leo is waiting..."

The intercom buzzes again.

"What did Donnie say? What's going on with Mikey?!" Leo asks, his voice in a panic.

"Get the tank started, we're coming to you."

"But what about Mikey?!"

"He's here with us."

"Why doesn't he respond--"

Raph crashes through the window before he can answer, landing with a thud against the top of the tank. Mikey howls loudly, whining in fear and scratching at Raph's arms to let him go. He sees Donnie for the first time and makes a feeble chirp.

Donnie stares wide-eyed at him, mouth open and hands trembling.

Raph scrambles into the tank, holding Mikey tightly. Donnie follows after him, silently staring at his baby brother.

"There you guys are!" Leo yells, a wave of relief rushing over him. "I was starting to get really --"

He sees him.

"What... what happened to..."

"Just drive," Raph orders, holding Mikey close. "Just get us out of here."

Leo nods slowly, turning to Donnie. He receives the silent command and navigates the tank, speeding away.

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[tenderleavesbob]

Whumptober 24/31

No. 24: Alternate Venom

Considering the twists and turns and tricks in this dungeon, Sky expected it to take longer to find the boss. It took him less than fifteen minutes after he left his brothers.

It should have soothed him. It should have been evidence that he made the right choice. Sky found himself standing outside the large doors instead, listening to the beast inside, with his hand tracing the odd marks on the stone. It looked like something had been on the door once but had since been torn away. 

Sky couldn’t find his brothers, but he could find the door leading to the boss of this awful dungeon. Find it quickly and easily, too. Frowning, Sky looked back the way he came. No monsters or tricks impeded him.

Legend had said that something was wrong with this dungeon. It felt like this was only proving him right. 

It didn’t matter, Sky told himself. The sooner he took care of this boss, the sooner they could leave this place. He could do this.

When Sky pushed on the doors, he half-expected them to stay in place. It felt like there should have been more to it, but the doors yielded with a dull screech. It was harder to push aside the feeling of wrongness as Sky entered the room.

It took Sky less than ten minutes to regret his decision.

The boss was a large rat encased in stone. Fi blazed white in his hands as Sky hacked at the stone, eventually breaking away the rat’s armor. The rat hissed at him, fangs glistening like a snake’s and black blood trickling where the shards of stone had cut it. A sickly green dripped from its fangs.

The same sickly green shone on Sky’s arm where a fang had scraped him. He staggered backward and the giant rat wavered in front of him. 

He had made a mistake. He was prepared for a regular boss. He had never fought a black-blooded boss before. He should have been prepared!

Sky scowled at the monster and raised the Master Sword. She felt like she had gained a hundred pounds in mere seconds. His arms ached with the effort of holding her up. What was in that venom? How badly would a mere scrape hurt him?

The monster should have pounced him. It should have taken advantage of his weakness. Sky didn’t understand why it just watched him, why it wasn’t attacking him. What was it doing?

Its red eyes glowed like rubies. They doubled and tripled as they stared at him, but they didn’t move closer. Was the rat waiting for something?

This was a trap and Sky had fallen for it, but what was the trap?

Sky forced himself to take a shaky step forward. He needed to end this now. The stone armor was gone. The sword should easily be able to cut through the boss.

He needed to…

The rat watched him, still as stone. Sky took another step and almost stumbled.

He needed to finish this. Sky needed… Sky needed…

The red eyes never blinked. Sky’s arm felt stiff and ice cold.

His brothers were relying on him, and as Sky’s knees buckled, he realized dully that he had failed them.

First | Previous | Next

[ouiouimochi]

Part 2 of the Abyss x reader that I wrote a while back.

Part 1 - Part 3

there won't be an mc(you) and abyss reunion just yet

inconsistent and unedited writing. kinda wrote in a rush to destress so it's gonna be short

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

synopsis: abyss unexpectedly finds himself a place at easton and becomes busy with magia lupus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

abyss never would have thought that his parents would even send him to school, much less one as prestigious and famous as easton magic academy

although he never understood why, he more or less preferred being in school than live in the same household as his parents

even though there's only little differences to how he gets treated by his peers and his parents

but the worst thing his peers had ever done was talk bad about his cursed eye— not that it actually made the situation much better

at least he managed to get himself into a group that didn't make him feel too out of place

he also found himself admiring a male by the name of abel walker who he swore to serve in gratitude for looking past his evil eye and recruiting him into magia lupus

abyss forgot about meeting the eccentric lady from a few years back since he got busy with wanting to make himself useful to abel in making the goals of magia lupus a reality

the hallways were bustling with more life than usual and abel seemed to be curious what it was about

while walking a bit slower, abyss also tried to listen to the loud whispers but opted to focus his attention to the closest group of girls

“hey, did you hear?”

“are you talking about the new student joining our academy this late into the semester?”

“yeah, yeah. apparently they got in because of family connections”

“ehh… even that kind of thing can't be avoided in easton, huh?”

“well… do you actually know who it is?”

“i heard from someone that it's a girl”

“really? that sucks i was hoping for a cute guy”

“oh stop being delusional already”

“so continuing, she's apparently a double liner”

abel and abyss’ ears immediately noticed and they shared a look

another potential recruit

but before either of them could learn of the new student’s identity, the whispers significantly quieted down, taking notice of abel and abyss' presence

then the gossiping students hurriedly dispersed themselves without further wait

abel calls for abyss to recruit the new student and the masked male only nods in acknowledgement of the task

apparently everyone, even the other fangs, were tasked to try recruiting this new student

one would think it was an easy task with how quick word got around and how many members there were in magia lupus

but alas, none of them were successful in finding even finding out the identity of the new student aside from the information that they were female

none of the gossiping students seem to be spilling anything that could expose the new student's identity despite there being talks about the topic

like a magic spell had prevented anyone from speaking of it— or perhaps it was just a coincidence

some fangs also proposed that maybe the new student is from a very powerful family that anyone who spoke ill or exposed her identity could get in more than just trouble

love cute suggested that maybe news of a new student appearing was fake

at that, everyone also started thinking love’s statement made sense despite a huge percent of the student population buzzing with gossip about this new student

abel then called for the fangs to focus on other objectives instead while keeping an eye out for the new potential recruit

at that, the magia lupus meeting ended

“that's the report, my lady” a maid bows while finishing her report

you sighed at the information you received

“things haven't quieted down yet, huh?”

the maid, your attendant, only nods, dreading what you had schemed in that head of yours

you were due to present yourself in school a few days ago, but then you made a fuss about not wanting to go when the campus would be noisy

your reasoning was that it was bothersome to try and tolerate it

the attendant sighs internally, not even knowing what to expect from her lady anymore

it's pretty obvious this poor attendant should be given a well-deserved vacation at this point

all the while, you were coming up with plans to at the very least entertain yourself in a situation where you got forced by your family to attend easton

you might as well have fun, right?

[bestworstcase]

Suddenly reminded of your remark in one of your essays about Lionheart being the token Faunus headmaster in the academy system, and something about… idk the irony of him being in Mistral, which you indicate is one of the most racist places for Faunus aside from Atlas. Just amusing cuz I never saw that take before.

not just irony, imo, i think it does a lot of thematic work for the faunus subplot

regarding the question of whether atlas or mistral is worse for faunus: while faunus are systemically disadvantaged in all four human kingdoms (and menagerie is politically marginalized on the international stage)…

in atlas/mantle:

jacques schnee, a virulent bigot behind closed doors, is at pains to present himself as a tolerant benefactor to the faunus in public; one of his conversational partners during the charity party in v4 is another businessman who pushes back on jacques’ covertly bigoted rhetoric by specifically citing class disparities between atlas and mantle and the reality that faunus in particular face a lack of opportunity that can’t be overcome by just being employed. this bit character isn’t an activist—he’s a businessman. that means these are mainstream, normative viewpoints in atlas.

mantle news media and law enforcement are apathetic to the disappearance of several faunus in arrowfell, but when it turns out that the man responsible is a political figure beloved by mantle’s human working class, his support evaporates. (there’s further nuance in that he acted under duress, but even his most enthusiastic supporters react to the news that he hurt faunus miners with horror)

robyn—also a beloved political figure to the mantelian working class—explicitly includes faunus and this does not diminish her support with humans in mantle whatsoever.

when racist grandma goes off in v8, her daughter tries anxiously to get her to stop and, importantly, nobody else in the crowd of scared / stressed out / angry people in mantle speak up in agreement with her.

when weiss slams a drunk guy into a dumpster for making a racist remark to blake, the drunk guy’s buddy more or less just goes “woah!” and then double-takes because is that weiss schnee—what he doesn’t do is react like he thinks weiss or blake was the one out of line.

in the CFVY novels, it’s revealed that velvet’s dad works for the atlas military and she’s spent at least some time in atlas with him, but she doesn’t feel any particular wariness toward people from atlas or assume that they’ll be racist to her until they prove otherwise.

ilia remembers her classmates at an atlesian prep school being very openly racist, which tracks with how weiss is when she arrives at beacon; these were, in all likelihood, largely the children of covert bigots like jacques—kids who picked up rancid attitudes at home and lived in a sheltered bubble where these attitudes were allowed.

SDC operates globally, so we don’t know where adam suffered that hate crime or what happened to the perpetrator

so, while atlas/mantle do have systemic racism against faunus and some individuals are quite bigoted on an interpersonal level, it plainly isn’t socially acceptable in atlas or mantle to be openly racist, because a strong majority of the populace in both cities seems to fall somewhere between neutral to supportive of faunus rights. given the “no faunus” sign the madame had in her swanky hotel a decade ago, this may be a fairly recent swing in public opinion.

in mistral:

the white fang is headquartered in mistral and the bulk of its operations seem to be focused there, suggesting that this is where the pain is sharpest; sun, who attended haven academy and isn’t exactly a deep thinker, scorns the group as a “cult” and “a bunch of creeps who use force to get whatever they want,” which is less an objective statement of fact than it is an expression of what the dominant cultural narrative in mistral probably is

mistral has sundown towns.

qrow is from mistral; his narration of the world of remnant faunus episode is laced with very clear unexamined biases even though his stance is generally pro-faunus—very much what you’d expect from a guy who grew up in a very racist environment (there are no faunus in the branwen tribe) and then learned better but never really did the work to unpack his subconscious aversion to faunus

lionheart is politically marginalized to such an extent that he’s able to plausibly use his impotence with the council as cover for his deliberate sabotage

during mistral’s prewar occupation of vacuo, faunus were enslaved in mistrali dust mines in vacuo as per the CFVY novels

in stark contrast to velvet’s indifference to atlas, she is terrified of mistralis and associates the kingdom with, specifically, sexually charged racist harassment; so while in atlas she undoubtedly dealt with microaggressions and the occasional open racist, her experience with people from mistral has led her to presume “virulent bigot” as the default.

at least some businesses are segregated even in the present. (and at least one of qrow’s informants is a regular at a segregated noodle shop, underscoring the previous point about his attitudes)

now obviously there are mistralis who aren’t aggressively racist and others who support faunus rights, the kingdom isn’t a monolith, but the details were given suggest that open bigotry is normative and socially acceptable; there are certain places in mistral where faunus risk being murdered just for setting foot there. mistrali faunus may not face such quite sharp economic pain as in atlas (because the systemic issues mantelian faunus deal with intersects with the rampant classism which harms everyone in mantle), although mistral also has steep class divides that would likewise fall harder on faunus than on humans; but it seems to me that mistral is, culturally, a lot more hostile to faunus than atlas/mistral with bigotry allowed to flourish out in the open.

and, a pit stop before bringing this around to lionheart: ozpin offers lukewarm vocal support to the cause of faunus rights and vague platitudes about “taking strides” to close the divide (which blake calls him on in remarkably sharp terms given the sheer amount of power he holds over her as her headmaster), but… he shames blake for hiding her cat ears rather than do anything about the racist bullying that goes on at his school; he singles out blake, clearly suspects her of being salem’s spy and makes implicit threats when she doesn’t cooperate; he jumps to the worst possible conclusion about lionheart but trusted ironwood without hesitation in v5 despite ironwood’s objectively much more alarming behavior; he gifted lionheart salem’s old tea-set. so ozpin is not… especially a good ally to the faunus even though he notionally is on their side.

which brings us to lionheart. why did salem choose HIM, out of all the headmasters or teachers she could have tried to convert into a spy?

she picked the one faunus—not just headmaster, lionheart is the only faunus faculty-member we’ve met so far. the faunus appointed by the ruling council of a notoriously racist council to be the headmaster of the school where a faunus student absorbed the message that the faunus civil rights movement is a violent cult.

in other words, the most vulnerable member of the inner circle, someone who would have been walking a precarious political tightrope under extreme pressure to be absolutely beyond reproach because anything less would have gotten him torn to shreds, figuratively speaking, by a hostile public; and as if that isn’t bad enough, ozpin didn’t trust him either. ozpin is extremely quick to jump to the conclusion that lionheart is a traitor, in contrast to his blithe certainty that taking the lamp to atlas after ironwood closed the borders and withdrew his troops from mistral right before salem attacked haven!!

raven asks lionheart what salem has on him. it’s this. it’s him being the token faunus headmaster with his hands tied by the council in front of a racist public that he knows will rip him apart if he screws up even a little, and allies he can’t count on to have his back because ozpin is weird about faunus too.

is it any wonder that he folded like wet cardboard when salem threatened him. ozpin thinks she was just so scary that she sank her claws into lionheart and deleted his courage but the reality is the man was working under enough pressure to turn anyone into a nervous wreck with or without salem putting her thumb on the scales, and she just… recognized that and took advantage.

[intrawebs]

A list of misc. Hermitcraft/Life Series fics from someone who loves AUs

There is no smut on this list

❤️ = Angst  💜 = Fluff 💛 = Fic I recently added

No Romance and Romance Optional

❤️Hermit Hybrids (In Progress Series) by Flickersprout - "Loosely connected fantasy AU with background dystopian elements. Mostly exploring the Hermits as a magic found family and all their different ways of being nonhuman." Can be read in any order! I'd suggest starting with The Colors of Friendship cause it's the earliest chronologically, ZombieCleo's great, and it's a good introduction to the world.

❤️the sanctity of the mundane (Completed Series) by crabbunch - “Snippets of life on the Double Life server; mundanity can reveal the most interesting things about people, after all.” This series makes me crazy. The only happy pairs are Boat Boys and Ranchers hell yeah

From the Archives (Completed Series) by Sixteenthdays and zeph - “A collection of statements from the archives of the Void Institute.” A Hermitcraft/Life Series Magnus Archives AU with Grian as the Head Archivist and Pearl, Mumbo, Scar, and Impulse as his assistants. Can be read with no knowledge of the Magnus Archives.

Interlude From Another Reality: Peacock's Eye by Sixteenthdays and zeph - “‘My assistant,’ announced Scar Goodtimes, newly-promoted Head Archivist of the Peacock's-Eye Institute, to nobody in particular except maybe the paused audio recording software on his laptop, or perhaps the small pile of tape recorders his predecessor'd left piled on a shelf in the corner, or arguably the little peacock-feather eye logo that dotted the office as haphazardly as it did the entire Institute, ‘is weird.’

(In which Scar is Grian's Archivist, and Grian is Scar's assistant.)” Sort of an AU of the Magnus Archives AU? Haha. But it’s completely divorced from the canon and can definitely be read stand alone.

❤️Shining and Polished (But Never to Plan) by SaltyServal - “A cough makes Grian freeze in his tracks, shakes him to his core. Despite all the signs, of all the things he was expecting to find in this cave, a truly sentient creature was not one of them. That’s what scares him the most.

He turns, grabbing his dagger and pointing it at the newcomer, who simply smiles at him, fangs and all.

‘Why hello there.’

tldr; Grian is an avian desperate to keep his wings, and he'll do whatever it takes to save himself. Even if it means stealing from a dragon.

(It turns out there's more to the dragon then he thought).” A fantasy AU with bird!Grian and dragon!Scar

oh captain (let's make a deal) by birrdie - “No one on these shores knew Scar’s name. Aside from Tango, of course. No one feared the humble, white-sailed ship docked on the south side of the port. This, like the tides, would eventually change with time. They would know his name soon enough. The greatest pirates all rose from humble beginnings like a phoenix from ashes. Scar was no different from them; that much he was sure of. And it would not take him long to prove it.

Or; Scar is a Captain of a humble pirate crew of one. That is, until a discovery on the shore shakes things up a bit.” A heaping helping of greedy pirate Scar and mysterious crewmate Grian, with evil Boat Boys and innocent Solidaritek as a garnish.

❤️starry eyes stare through me by whatcaniwriteinthis - "'You know,' he says. 'Gotta have a good show: high stakes, violence—' He nods at the room, at the 24 children learning how to use weapons, how to start a fire, how to find food that won’t kill them.

'An unlikely allyship,' Scar finishes, smiling a little. Grian smirks back.

–

Grian is this year's male tribute from District 9. Clearly, the odds are already not in his favor. But he has to get home to his sister and to do that he has to play the Games. Give them a show. Stay alive. Remember to step out of line is to threaten Pearl. Don't get too attached to the Career that agrees to be his ally, but not to put a damn shirt on." Angst without a happy ending. Made me cry

❤️Stained Glass Sunlight (In Progress Series) by Cosmic_Retribution - “The Watchers had seemed so nice, is the thing. So… disarmingly hospitable.

When they’d set out for the ruins, they’d gone in search of some magical beasts reportedly plaguing the area, according to the flyer they’d taken. What they’d found instead was an empty city and a group of mages and scholars studying… something. They’d been cagey about what. Certainly not the history of the place— the Watchers arrived long after the fall of Dogwarts, content to live and work inside the city’s corpse with no special reverence for the grave it lay ruined in. They had no stake in its fall, or its future, or the preservation of its once-hallowed legacy— but its bones, certainly, served as protection enough for their studies.

The beasts were the only thing troubling the Watchers’ work, or so they’d said. Strange, then, that Grian and his party never once saw a trace of them.

How long after, until his friends realized Grian was gone? That they weren’t safe?

—

Two decades ago, the city of Dogwarts met its demise. Today, a traveler meets god wearing the mask of a merchant, looking for a miracle.

These two things are not as unconnected as they appear.” Grian and Scar’s version of the lamplight AU(below). Featuring bored god Scar and oblivious paladin Grian.

Lamplight (In Progress Series) by skelew - “Welcome to Lamplight, a DnD/Fantasy Third/Last Life Renchanting AU. Ren is a god stuck in the form of living fire. Martyn is his sole follower. Martyn and Ren help free one another from imprisonment by the Watchers and are now traveling the world on a two-man adventure of fond companionship and occasional arson.” There’s angst but really just in the first fic. The main series has no shipping but skelew has written some treebark one shots that are also in the collection.

❤️dandelion wishing by skelew - “The white lily is known to symbolize purity, innocence. It is also a symbol of mourning, a popular choice to decorate the casket at a funeral. This is due to their beauty, yes, as well as the fact their smell can cover up the scent of a decaying body. Dandelions are best known for their magic, but no dandelion survives a wish.

The King of Dogwarts is not dead.” A Martyn and Ren centric fic about coming back from the dead.

❤️Wooden Mausoleum by skelew - “‘To take the life of one you love an agony Martyn understands far too well. It’s not something he’d wish on anyone—not on his worst enemy, and certainly not on his dearest friends.

Least of all would he wish it on Ren.’

Or, for the Red King, there are fates worse than death. How fortunate he is that his Hand will never let him meet them.” Dogwarts makes it to the end of 3rd Life but Martyn has a betrayal arc.

💜Performance Evaluations by glossyblue - “From The Desk Of His Majesty’s Most Private Of Areas: A True And Accurate Evaluation Of Growth Opportunities For The Knights Of The Square Table, The Loyal Court of Ren the King, As Suggested By The HR Department. (Note to self: when did we acquire an HR department? Ask Bdubs.)” Super cute and funny performance evaluations of the knights from the King Ren Hermitcraft arc.

The H.T.G.Y. Files by glossyblue - "Research scientist Cub didn't intend to make a person. He just came up with the plans. But when a competing team looking to make a supersoldier gets hold of the genome he invented, Cub is pulled in to stop them screwing up—and whatever he expected to find, it wasn't someone like Scar." This is part of a series called Lab Escape but the other fic has a ship that's not in this list so I can't put it in. But I really recommend the whole series!

💜The Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.) by glossyblue - “HIGHLY SENSITIVE: G.I.G.S CLASSIFIED. Audio logs for a team of supernatural agents investigating reports of a ghost at a local high school.GRIAN: Yeah, Skizz, why did you let Scar set something on fire? Pretty irresponsible.

SKIZZ: [noise of incoherent outrage] You try stopping him, buddy.” Goofy GIGS story

fixed and dilated by iamsolarflare - “Anything waterdwelling knows from bait.

---

Or: xBCrafted deals with the people around him, and a secret he's been keeping for one hell of a long time. Not the ‘old enemies hunting him down’ type, no - this should be fine, as long as nobody pries. It's the way you should deal with secrets like this, really, just don't let people know. No questions, no answers.

Hypno never got that memo, apparently.” An xB and Hypno fic where neither are human and neither wants to talk about it. Even if you don’t watch them I recommend it.

on the getaway mile by Odaigahara - “‘You want me to do what?’ the civilian asked disbelievingly, and Scar’s body language shifted to that of an impatient trainer, one whose fuse was running short. It was a precursor to bad things, like being tased or forced onto a treadmill for hours; Mumbo flinched even knowing it was an act, and the civilian cut off with a squeak, so Mumbo knew he felt the same way.

Or possibly that was the gun. Scar having a gun seemed more likely as an explanation, now that Mumbo thought of it.

Stealing the car would be better, but they had no idea where they were going, and neither of them was familiar with road laws. What if they hit a person while driving? What if there was some sort of kill switch in the car that the owner could flip to blow it up with them inside? Anti-villain tech had to be wild, from what the Foundation had on hand– and they were villains now for sure. Not just for defying the Foundation, but for this. Heroes didn’t take the actions he and Scar were taking.” Heroes Villains Scar and Mumbo take civilian Grian hostage for a road trip! It's not as bad as it sounds

counterclock by scarabies - “When it’s over, Impulse finds him in the throne room.

(or, Bdubs and Impulse chat after a rebellion ends. Can be read as either platonic or romantic.)”

💜Tangotek Evil Incorporated by onawhimsicot - “As the supervillain Dr. Blaze, Tango has a fondness for oddly named "ificators" and stylistic flair. He spends his days trying to take over the city, shaming superheroes for their basic costume designs, and then sending said heroes home with better equipment that actually matches their aesthetic because clearly, if he wants a cool fight scene to happen, he's got to do everything around here himself.

For some reason, not many people think he’s evil. On the bright side, the superhero Canary, does and has made it his personal mission to bring down Dr. Blaze! But when he suddenly goes missing, Canary's partner, Parrot, is convinced that Tango is at fault. Seeing as this is not true at all (kidnapping is so gauche), Tango is offended that someone is trying to steal his nemesis right from under his nose. If Tango wants to get his nemesis back, he'll have to work together with Parrot to find and rescue Canary from whatever danger he's got himself into this time.

Because, after all, what's a supervillain without a nemesis?” A very fun modified Phineas and Ferb AU with Tango as Doofenshmirtz and Jimmy as Perry the Platypus

Scarian

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks (In Progress Series) by Amethystfairy1 - “This is a compilation of all the pieces that take place within my Over-City/Under-City AU, which is also a Hot Guy/Cute Guy Superhero AU, though that's not the only thing that'll be going on!”

❤️coliseum by artanogon - "Grian is on a mission: kill the Red King of the Third Precinct. Unfortunately, when he travels to the capital where the king resides, he lands in a spot of trouble with a local merchant when he accidentally destroys the merchant’s shop. After he enters into a contract to help pay off the damages, he discovers that there might be another side to Scar under the silver-tongued salesman— and that he’s not the only one who wants the Red King dead." This one made me cry. Bittersweet ending and it gets worse before it gets better.

Picture Perfect, Trapped in Eternity by CloudySkyFlight - “Grian's an architecture major in college, minoring in art history, and when the largest, and supposedly most haunted, collection of royal portraits in the world is displayed in a museum only a few hours away from his dorm, he gets up early to go see it.

Scar's been dead for centuries, living in a royal portrait he cursed to hold his memories and soul, waiting for the moment his best friend would come back to him. Several centuries later, he wakes up to see a brunette that has the looks and soul of his friend, and Scar knows that he cannot let Grian leave without him.” Starts out with Scar sort of kidnapping Grian? But the mood quickly lifts from there

and everything is you by eastwards - “‘Oh my gosh. I’ve got paint on your face.’

Grian moved to wipe the paint off, but Scar shook his head, ‘No the other side, here let me-’

He held Grian’s head steady with one hand, the other carefully brushing across his jaw. With an affirming noise, Scar nodded and bid Grian farewell, as he wandered back to his station in the studio. Grian held his hand up to where he had touched him, feeling his head begin to warm. How troublesome.

–

artist au w/ scarian wooo”

somewhere between the surface and the seabed by LovesickPrince - "It's a classic tale of love: Grian, a mer from the depths of the sea, makes a deal with a sea witch to exchange his voice for a pair of legs and go visit the human whose life he had saved. Only in this case, Grian is more interested in the sea witch than the human.

(If only someone had bothered to tell Scar, the sea witch in question, about this divergence)."

💜Dead Heat by glossyblue - “Jimmy's having a meltdown, Ren and Martyn are flirting outrageously, Tango gets cruelly betrayed and Grian and Scar are being unrepentantly weird about each other in every shot. It's the nation's favourite no-holds-barred elimination game. It is, of course, the Great British Bake Off.”

A Certain Je Ne Sais What by glossyblue - “Literally any one of Grian’s friends would be a better soulmate than Scar, and Grian is going to prove this scientifically.

Grian’s already felt it, a pinprick in his thumb. He’s familiar—he’s so painfully, unforgettably familiar—with the way Scar sees something and is already reaching out to touch it before he’s asked questions like 'what is this' and 'is it bad news' and 'is it going to hurt me, Scar, and by extension the unwilling bystander my physical sensations are now linked to'. Scar just immediately reaches out.” Grian tries to convince himself that anyone else would be a better soulmate than Scar while proving that Scar is the best soulmate for him.

❤️wait the worst is yet to come by glossyblue - “‘Grian is smirking at him. ‘I know, Grian, I know,’ Scar says. ‘Trade by name and trade by nature–okay, Scar by name but still trade by nature–we are going to be in business, opening soon, special rates for favorite customers of course–’

‘But have you done it yet,’ says Grian.

‘No?’ Scar says. ‘We only just started.’

Grian bounces on the balls of his feet, delighted. ‘Okay. Okay, okay, so. You need to know how it works, then, don’t you? Kiss me.’” Scar centric Last Life AU where you transfer lives by making out. There’s a sex scene but it’s not smut. Angst without a happy ending.

heart under your sleeve by Anonymous - “Scar was easy to love, as mortifying as that was to think. Grian didn’t think he was in love with the artist, it was far too soon for that, but he knew it would be easy for anyone to love him.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if Scar had met his soulmate, then shook his head to dispel the thought before it could fully form.

“Look, we can’t bring in a live panda, but if you want, we can try and connect with a zoo in the area so that they can set up a live stream of their panda exhibits,” Grian compromised and Scar brightened again. He ignored the sweeping feeling of relief in his chest as he opened his laptop, typing in a quick search for nearby panda exhibits. “Maybe we can even get one of their handlers in to give a talk about pandas.”

“Perfect!” Scar agreed, putting on a bright grin. Grian smiled to himself in turn.

—

Soulmate AU: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate. Grian is a curator for an art museum. Scar is an eccentric artist who is just as attractive as he is infuriating to work with. Everything goes sideways when Grian realizes they're soulmates.”

💜If you like it… by GoodTimesWithScar - “‘Hello,’ slurs Scar, ‘you wouldn’t happen to know where a man such as myself… would find… an eligible bachelor to spend a little bit of time with?’

Grian blinks. ‘Oh, you are plastered.’

or, the ‘you got so drunk you asked your husband if he was single’ trope, but with added mumbo being 100% done with this nonsense.”

💜Well It’s Not Quite Narnia, But- by Raichett - “It’s just past seven in the morning when Grian opens his built-in wardrobe door to find a man dressed in something close to a green and gold matador outfit standing inside.

---

my ever after / is holding you by LovesickPrince - “Grian has been many things.

Or: Grian is not giving up this dirt-cheap rent flat for anything, not even the strange (if fun) goings on around the place and the elven king coming in through his closet.”

💛Dispossessed by Raichett - “Grian's - kind of, sort of, maybe - a living doll, made of fabric and stuffing. Or, at least, that's what he is to the naked eye. Scar wants to know the truth of the matter. He's also maybe working through some feelings, but that's a whole other thing.

—

Or: Scar contemplates the enigma that is Grian, unknowing that sometimes when one watches, one invites being watched in turn.”

A servant of a respected noble family. A survivor, with bruises on his skin and hidden wings tied down to his back. A rebel, sneaking away for a night of wonder in the heart of the kingdom - and a curiosity, gawked at by all as the King himself swept him into his arms and spent hours by his side.

When Scar spent days tracking Grian down and helping him escape the cruel grasp of the Watchers, Grian thought his life couldn’t surprise him anymore. Pledging his life to serve Scar was all he could do to thank his King.

Of course, being the personal servant of the King comes with its' own risks - and now Grian could add ‘hostage’ to his list of titles.

i live in a hologram with you by remrose - “‘Anyone in there would be lucky to be graced with your company.’ Scar told him. His face was calm but at his sides, his hands tightened and knuckles went white.

Or; someone decides kidnapping King Scar’s beloved servant was a good idea. It really wasn’t.”

💛❤️Bread and Butterflies by Anonymous - “‘You do this thing,’ Mumbo began awkwardly. 'Where when you get worried, you start stalking people.’

‘I don’t stalk people,’ Grian denied immediately.

Or, after the events of 3rd life, Grian finds himself lingering outside Scar’s base.”

💛❤️a little victimless crime by definitelynotshouting - “On a technical level, the rite he’s performing is paltry compared to what he executed all those heady months back– chalk-powder in concentric circles, a matchbook, the potential for flame. Simple. Too simple; any of his old professors (Academy-trained, tried, and true) would have failed him for presenting such a stripped summoning spell. But half the magic lies in intent– with enough bull-headed, scrabbling belief, you can claw anything into a shape of your choosing.

Grian had taught him that.

One breath. Two. No room for doubt– no room for second chances. Scar strikes the match and, with a deft flick of his hand, tosses it into the chalk-powder.”

‘Stop trying to sweet talk me, I've already caught you fleeing.’ Grian stalked another pace forward, eyes alight with mischief and excitement. ‘Where are you going?’” Scar’s bad end in the treesekai AU (which you need to have read to understand).

Treebark

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks (In Progress Series) by Amethystfairy1 - “This is a compilation of all the pieces that take place within my Over-City/Under-City AU, which is also a Hot Guy/Cute Guy Superhero AU, though that's not the only thing that'll be going on!” The first treebark fic is quite a ways down (It’s called Dagger and Rose), but I believe in yalls ability to figure out the setting through context clues.

💜love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books (In Progress Series) by GoodTimesWithScar - “treebark theatre kids au, with ren as the male lead and martyn as the very distracted spotlight operator!”

wild things can't get comfortable by donnerstag - "Ren and Martyn steal what small moments of comfort they can get.

❤️Sgt. Pepper’s Broken Hearts Club Band by harpydora - “The sign next to the door just reads, ‘Support Group,’ which frankly doesn't leave a great impression for the gathering inside. Martyn double-checks the Facebook event on his phone, but he's unfortunately certain he's in the right place: a support group for people whose soulmates are no longer with them.” The double life broken hearts club in a modern AU.

Several loosely-connected scenes from Dogwarts as Ren struggles with his feelings towards the Hand of the King."

What will that something be? Well don’t look at me, I’m the one who wrote it. Look at yourself, and ask yourself: Why don’t I know?

Scribbling the lines (from you to me) by Siri_Spy - “Martyn and Cleo are soulmates… but what exactly does that mean for them? And with Martyn starting to fall for the over-the-top president of his RPG club, and Cleo starting to realize that they might be a little late to the ‘disgustingly in love’ phase… something needs to change.

Exactly. That’s what I’ve been wondering. Anyway, what are you still doing here? Go read!” A really sweet modern AU about Cleo and Martyn.

The Not Ghost of the Castle (he is a very dedicated cosplayer, thank you very much) takes a liking, and possibly some recognition, to Martyn, and while he spends the night terrorising Martyn's friends, the two of them build an unlikely bond and friendship.

not the ghost by csillagvizsgalo - “Martyn tags along with his friends on a ghost hunting trip (he has seen people who had weirder hobbies anyways) for fun in an old run-down castle museum that has definitely not been kept properly. It's all fun and games, and he definitely doesn't believe in the supernatural, so it's not scary at all, until he starts noticing things lying around in areas that nobody has been to in ages, that remind him of memories of events that he never experienced, hundreds of years ago. The voices aren't helping. Well, the one Voice.

The Red King just wants to rest, and so does Martyn. But not everything is as easy as it first seems.” Ren pulls out all the stops to try and intimidate Martyn but Martyn is a little rude to him and completely ruins it.

Wild Life: A Conservation Podcast by donnerstag - “Ren and Martyn, hosts of a popular little nature and conservation podcast, go camping together as part of a season finale special; discussions of the future, for both the show and themselves, ensue. Featuring: a campfire! innuendos! and even a little bit of kissy, perhaps?”

A Romance Route For The Doomed Villain?!? by skelew - “These days, Martyn doesn’t really have a lot going on. This is where the dating sim comes in.

💜Dead Heat by glossyblue - “Jimmy's having a meltdown, Ren and Martyn are flirting outrageously, Tango gets cruelly betrayed and Grian and Scar are being unrepentantly weird about each other in every shot. It's the nation's favourite no-holds-barred elimination game. It is, of course, the Great British Bake Off.”

Granted, if Martyn knew he was going to die so soon, he maybe would have tried a little harder at, like, holding down a job. Or maybe not. It's not like he has a lot of time to think about it.

Or, Treebark Isekai Romance Parody Which I Spent Far Too Much Time On.”

❤️I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before by GoodTimesWithScar - “In which Martyn fails to get the guy - but he doesn't let that stop him for long.” Set in the treesekai AU (the fic above), which you need to read to understand.

—

💜I should’ve known it would be you - water/woods by theorionsound - “Martyn sort of expected to fall in love with Ren eventually.

On their bi-annual hiking trip, Ren and Martyn get lost in thought. Mainly about eachother.”

'Sure.' There was something knife-bright in Martyn’s eyes. 'And I’m a good little Southlander now.'

❤️To Sit in Hell With You by dirtybinary - "Ren pulled Martyn close, breathing in the smell of soot and cinders still clinging to his clothes. 'You never kept secrets from me, back at Dogwarts.'

Martyn's playing every side in the death game. He's a loose cannon, he's a wild card, he's a selfish bastard who's going to betray everyone in the end, even Ren. Probably. Most likely. Any minute now."

Solidaritek

💜Red Bandit AU (In Progress Series) by scribblingdragon - “A Empires Season 2 AU with Jimmy as the Sheriff of Tumble Town, and Tango as a local bandit that is slowly, forcefully, being domesticated. Shenanigans ensue from there.”

❤️💜Hels To Pay AU (In Progress Series) by aquaquadrant and lunarcrown - “Angsty Tango-centric Hermitcraft/Double Life SMP AU”

❤️The Highwayman by EnvelopedByOblivion - “Fate walks many paths - but for each person, it only wears one face. Sheriff Jimmy Solidarity’s fate is a handsome red-eyed highwayman who saves Jimmy from a group of bandits. Despite being on opposite sides of the law, something keeps bringing them together, tangible as gravity and inevitable as death.

💜Let Me Show You Everything I Know by MassiveWaffle - "Jimmy Solidarity is an ordinary guy. He goes to his grad school classes during the day, works at the campus library in the evenings, and neglects his friendships a little too much. Then, engineering student Tango enters the library for some help, and Jimmy finds his friend group growing, and his life inexplicably changed."

Which will get to them first? What will win out – a growing relationship between them, or their obligations to the life they’ve chosen for themselves?”

💛💜Tangotek Evil Incorporated’s Masterful Schemes (for wooing the Canary) by Tiny_Minecraft_Rabbit - “Dr. Blaze, like all good supervillains, has a nemesis. One that he hates, of course. The Canary is always meddling in his plans to be evil after all! Supervillains don't like their nemeses. Except, for some reason, no one believes him that he despies the guy! Sure the Canary takes him seriously when no one else does and laughs at his jokes and has these bright brown eyes that light up when he figures out how to escape Tango's traps and... and Tango might, just maybe, like the Canary more than he thought.

Well, now he has a new problem: confessing those feelings.”

A Nestcommunication by YacintheMorning - “Tango just wants to make the ranch a home for both him and his avian soulmate. Unfortunately, he knows almost nothing about avians. But the least he can do is try, right?” In which Tango is accidentally way too forward.

💜A Lesson in Listening by YacintheMorning - "Grian's brother is moving to town and staying with him while he house hunts. While introducing him to his friend, however, Jimmy and Tango seem to make quite a connection. Determined not to suffer through the pining, Grian and Impulse attempt to play matchmaker."

Unfortunately, this panicked Jimmy at first.

💜He loves that horse by ThatTallQueerBassist - “Tango uses his horse training knowledge to get Oreo back in shape after all the drama of being stolen back and forth.

He quickly calms down once he finds Tango training Oreo just outside the walls of their ranch.

They chat, and everything is well in the world again.”

SmallEtho

❤️The Best Soulmate by BlocksRuinedMe - “‘But everyone else didn’t know that - it was possible even Bdubs didn’t know that - and yet he carried on like that, all the time. All about Joel’s soulmate. Bdubs didn’t respect Joel, and fuck that.

Fuck that.

Joel had been fantasizing about killing Bdubs for weeks.’

—

The Boat Boys have made it to the end of Double Life, standing with Impulse and Bdubs, watching the divorce quartet crumble. Joel has a plan to make Etho win Double Life, whether Etho likes it or not.” Joel being an unreliable narrator because rage clouds his thinking is really something I wish there was more of. You definitely want to read the tags before diving into this one btw.

Holy Father, judge my sins by giddyfenix - "Joel and Etho as the seven deadly sins. After all, what were they if not corrupted?" The lust chapter has a sexual scene, obvs, so skip that if you so wish.

A list of facts and problems by giddyfenix - “Joel had never realized it was possible to feel someone in your bones until Etho came along.”

Amores anacrónicos by giddyfenix - “Don’t be further than 10 blocks from Etho for 10 minutes. One attempt only.”

You held his hands, it felt like flying by Prudent_seer - “Etho doesn't believe in soulmates. Doesn't believe in fate, destiny or an invisible little string tying two people together indefinitely. It was ridiculous, maddening even to think of two people who were made for one another; made perfect for each other by the "universe's almighty will". With that being said, he had someone in mind that was pretty damn close. So when Grian threw them in a world where these soulbounds did in fact exist in a tangible form, where health and pain was shared with someone else, he sought out the person whom he thought was his match. Only to literally fall into the life of his actual soulbound.

It was Joel. And with that Etho cursed the universe for its twisted sense of humour.

//

Creative rewrite of double life through the eyes of Etho, who learns to love his soulmate.” There’s sex but it’s not smut, you know what I mean?

when everything burns, they burn together by TheYesterdayShow - “No one for Joel because he's always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he's been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he's been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian's side at the end of things, but he's never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn't want a soulmate.”

etho has said parkour tag! by panch_owo - “Neither Cyan or Aqua make it to finals, which means the rest of the event is unimportant!

And instead of dwelling on their non-team, they go on another round of tag because it's them.” No smut but a lot of innuendo and tension

More Powerful Than Fear Itself Is The Will To Win by smoothlikebutter - "After a devastating crash ends Etho’s racing career with the McLaren Formula One team, he’s forced to take significant time off to recover. While his fans are eager to see him again soon, what they don’t know is that Etho’s crash was worse than reported; he had to re-learn how to walk and talk before he could even think about racing again. But the desire to get back in a racing car is a strong motivation, so Etho pushes himself to his limits… However, his team couldn’t wait forever. His replacement is talented and the endless competition of motorsports is ruthless. Now Etho has to prove to his old team— and to the whole world— that they were too quick to forget about him. And what better place than the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

ConCorp is eager to snap up a big name like Etho. They’re entering under the Garage 56 innovative category this year, and their CEOs aren’t interested in much more than publicity so the pressure is low. But they’ve also signed Joel, a ruthless pro endurance racer who isn’t about to settle for anything less than the top step of the podium and a champagne shower at the end of the race. And honestly? That’s exactly the kind of teammate that Etho needs." Had me dancing around my room with excitement. Etho's character arc is amazing.

We're a Couple of Freaks by smoothlikebutter - "Joel is a weapon. Etho is also a weapon. They're professional monster hunters, and they've got a job to do tonight: clear out a ton of undead from an abandoned old mansion. Simple, right? This could only possibly go wonderfully well.” Epic Smalletho Souleater AU

❤️Blurring The Lines by FountainPenguin - “Dad always goes overboard with presents. They're never something traditional that a kid would ask for, either. It's always something he had left over in the back of his truck after a project or something stupid he bought after sipping a few too many potions and regretted sober.

One year for Scar's birthday, when he and his cousin Grian were playing in the sandbox out back, Dad and his friends arrived unannounced with four oak saplings. Dad didn't grab his arm or anything (Dad basically never touched him except on rare occasion to brush sand from his hair before loading him in the car; he always said it would make Mom mad), but he used words and praise and empty promises to drag Scar away from his and Grian's game to plant them right away.

Maybe Dad gave so many gifts because he was never around in summer. As early as April, he spent every weekend out fishing with his cousin on his houseboat...

AKA - That Scar-centric standalone piece about the Clocker family in contemporary suburbia.”

And goodness you’re bleeding (What a wonderful feeling) by knightinshiningarmor - “When the relationship burns, Etho feels an intense burst of emotions that leads to a revelation.”

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞-𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰┃ᴍ. ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ

➺ pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader (established relationship) ➺ summary: dating miguel may be a double-edged sword, but it certainly has its perks... (w/c: 4.3k) ➺ warnings: quite suggestive, sharp objects? (claws/fangs), allusions to sex, arguing, mention of loss, light cussing a/n: i made the conscientious decision to channel my desire for this man and his claws into a fanfic instead of biting the person closest to me like a rabid dog (i had no choice, it was this or being put down). i hope you like it ! :)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The air is charged with the thrumming pulse of energy typical to Nueva York, the daytime’s hustle and bustle replaced with thriving nightlife. At the heart of the futuristic metropolis, the sweeping skyscrapers almost seem to have a life of their own, as their LED displays illuminate the night.

A light, cool wind wafts through the gap of the open window, brushing one of your cheeks while your make-up brush applies blush to the other. The vanity table you’re sitting at is right in front of the window, giving you a perfect view of the city you call home. 

You’re applying the finishing touches to your make-up, humming softly to yourself when you see an unmistakable flash of red in your peripheral vision. Your humming stops. A brief peer outside the window reveals that the red dot is coming closer and closer. Him. With a roll of your eyes and a petulant scoff, you rise out of your seat and walk over to the wardrobe on the other side of the bedroom. 

Your absentminded humming resumes, eyes trailing over the closet rail as you peruse your options. Accustomed to the sound by the numerous times they’ve heard it, your ears register the familiar thwip, thwip of webbing nearing your apartment. You return to the task at hand, determined not to return to the window.

Not that one, too short. You’re only going out for girls’ night, and besides, you’re taken. Metal on metal screeches as you push the dress aside by its hanger. Not that one, not short enough. You shake your head, about to give up when you spot a sliver of silk hiding in the back of the closet. Pulling on it, you single out a dress you don’t remember ever wearing before and conduct a quick appraisal of it. It’s a little silk number with a neckline that will show just the right amount of skin without being too racy. Perfect. 

In the very same moment, a sudden gust of wind whooshes into the room, curtains billowing in the breeze. A broad shadow darkens the spot by the window that you had previously occupied – the same shadow as always. You begin to unhook the dress from its hanger, back half-turned away from him as you choose to take brief peeks at his figure instead of facing him fully.

“Baby?”

Miguel’s deep voice fills the room, powerful timbre reverberating against the walls of the room, and the walls of your heart. You recognise the relief in his voice that comes from seeing you for the first time in two months, but resolve to ignore it. Ignore how the sight of him swinging through the window captivates you, the glossy lustre of his suit catching in the light.

You sense him coming closer, not by the sound of his nimble footsteps, but by the hefty presence of his shadow looming over you. You’ve always laughed at the juxtaposition between his muscular build and his spider-like acrobatics, but tonight, you leave no such room for humour. The past two months without him have been the longest two months of your life, and you aren’t going to let him swoop in and charm you enough to forget the pain of separation you had endured. You make that sentiment clear in your reply.

“And what kind of time do you call this?”

Instead of the apologetic response you desire, you hear two rapid beeps as he activates his wrist device. 

“LYLA, pray tell, what time is it?” His voice is affected with the sardonic tone that you know all too well. The look of concern on your face morphs into one of mild irritation, simmering anger threatening to bubble up to the surface.

“It is currently twenty-one hundred hours!” The female A.I. chirps obediently. Since when did she follow orders?

“You heard her,” he states pointedly, “nine o’clock.”

“Well, actually, it’s 21:01 now-” LYLA chimes in again. With an annoyed grunt, Miguel wastes no time slapping his wrist and deactivating the device, effectively silencing her. Atta girl, you think. At least one of us can get a reaction from him. Clearly, your passive-aggressive greeting didn’t do the trick. 

In the earlier stages of your relationship, when your romance was only tentative and his shadow at your windowsill never guaranteed, you would’ve kept your feelings to yourself. You’d greet him with open arms (and open legs), a smile veiling your displeasure. Back then, you were just happy to see him again. His snarky remarks always betrayed the mask of stoicism he tried to uphold, and you’d do anything to hear another – you never knew if it would be the last. 

As strong as he was physically, his aversion to speaking about the matters of the heart showed you that he was emotionally fragile in the same measure. Best not to rock the boat, you figured. Enjoy his company now and mourn his absence later. But months of hiding your true emotions had taken their toll on you.

“I’m being serious, Miguel.” You step into the dress, tugging it on as you talk. “You were gone for two months.” You swivel round to face him, noting that his holographic mask has disappeared to reveal his angular face, all sharp lines and harsh shapes. You look directly into his eyes as you hold two fingers up in front of his face. “Two!”

“Yeah, I can count, thank you,” he sasses back, unperturbed.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and two forefingers as you breathe through your nostrils in an avid attempt to regulate your rising temper. The lethal combination of his cool composure and his dry quips never fails to irritate you as much as it amuses you.

“Look,” your eyes narrow, “I don’t want to hear your witty jokes.” You sense another annoying rebuttal from him as he opens his mouth so you backtrack quickly. “I mean I do, because I want you here with me, but I don’t want to hear them right now when you’re meant to be apologising!” Your voice breaks involuntarily as your emotions betray you. If there was any chance of your facade still being intact, it was gone now.

Speaking of facades, it had taken time to unmask the real Miguel O’hara. The Miguel who would talk your ear off about his nerdy new gadgets, the Miguel whose snores could rival a grizzly bear’s, the Miguel who could – and would – eat a dozen empanadas in one sitting (even though they were so bad for his fitness regime). 

The Miguel, who was also Spiderman.

It was for this reason, that a certain part of you was wary of scaring him away with your feelings. It was so glaringly obvious that it had been a while since he’d been vulnerable with someone and had a connection as intimate as yours. Since he’d allowed himself to have a connection as intimate as yours. As time progressed and feelings reached new depths, he’d let you see past his meticulously-crafted persona as Nueva York’s guardian. 

Bit by bit and little by little, he’d given you glimpses into just how heavily the burden of being the city’s sole saviour weighs on those heavy-set shoulders of his. Each time, you had shown nothing but love, support and understanding. How he responded to you baring your heart to him now would tell you whether or not that was reciprocated.

His eyebrow quirks up in surprise, large hands coming up to sit on his hips as he tries to decipher what it is you’re saying. Well, might as well tell him everything, you suppose. “Every night that you were gone I would sit at that window,” you both look at the window he had come through not too long ago, “and wait for you.” 

Eyes of red pierce you where you stand with your arms crossed over your front, clutching the untied dress up to your body. 

“I didn’t know if you were even still-” Your breath hitches as a lump grows in your throat. You duck your head, taking a moment to recollect yourself and willing your voice not to break this time as you force the words out. “If you were even still alive.”

Burly arms engulf you, enveloping you in his warm embrace. “Shh…tranquilo baby, tranquilo.” The depth of his baritone voice soothes you as he rocks you from side to side, calming you down. “Hey, look at me…I’m fine.”

A gloved hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck, secure grip guiding your head up from where it had settled between his pecs. He tilts your head back to meet his gaze, half-lidded from looking down at you. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, you’ll get a migraine.” 

He leans in til your noses brush each other’s. “Then I’ll be the one stuck fixing you up.” He shakes your head lightly, bringing a reluctant smile to your face. You love your playful grump of a boyfriend. 

“Forget about the past. Let’s focus on you and me, right here, right now, hm?”

With a bashful nod, you hum your affirmation and return your head back to his chest. No more girls’ night for you. You’d rather spend the night with your favourite pair of girls instead, you think, as you press the side of your head further into Miguel’s sizable pecs and give one of them an appreciative squeeze. Damn, have they gotten even bigger since he left?

Temporarily distracted by Miguel’s honeyed words, you take this moment to recommit his features to your memory. You bask in the easy comfort of being in the presence of your person, and surrender to its lull. A curious hand lifts one of his gloved hands to your face, lolling it about, and you get lost in your thoughts as you observe just how big it is compared to yours. 

Watching you closely, Miguel notices that your gaze has not once strayed from his hands; more specifically, the tips of his fingers. Where his claws would be. Pointed canines gleam in the light as he smirks to himself, amused.

Suddenly, you hear the shing of his claws extending, metallic sound piercing the still air and cutting through your thoughts. The sharp, pointy tip winks at you, and you gasp as you are hypnotised, transfixed by it. You can feel yourself almost going cross-eyed from your laser-focus on it, so with a satisfied – and slightly delirious – sigh, your eyelids flutter shut to stave off the dizziness. You snuggle further into Miguel, leaning into the hand that cups the side of your neck. His warmth seeps into the sinews of your muscles and you relax into his touch.

You’re not expecting it when your eyes are prompted back open by the sharp pinch of his talon pressing into the plush of your bottom lip. It brings you back into the present and claws you back from the recesses of your mind that you had retreated to, chill against your skin contrasting the previous warmth and shocking your system. When your eyes meet his, they find them already trained on your face with a questioning gaze – are you okay now?

The concern splayed on his face reminds you of why you had to be placated in the first place, and just like that, you are snapped from your blissful reverie. You avoid his gaze, separate yourself from him and choose not to answer his question, one of your own on the tip of your tongue.

“So,” you clear your throat, eyebrows drawing together. “Why exactly did this mission take so long, then?”

“Come on baby,” he chuckles, but you can tell by the twitch in his jaw that you’re starting to get on his nerves. “You don’t really want me to bore you with the specifics, do you?” 

You do not respond. Assuming that the conversation is over and he’s been successful in persuading you, he leans down to go in for a kiss. He’s in for a surprise when you turn your head softly in indignation, unwilling to put the matter to rest.

“Well, what if I do?” You finally find your words; arguing with someone like him whose authority usually goes unquestioned is no easy feat. “I need an explanation at least, if I’m not going to get an apology. I mean, what’s so big of an emergency that you have to leave me for two months with no warning?!”

The lines of his face that had softened for a time become rigid and harsh again, hardened expression devoid of any of its previous mirth. 

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

Your body stills at his words. While you are disappointed, you cannot say that you are surprised. Although he has shared his identity as a vigilante with you, a great deal of his hero affairs are still kept private from you. Miguel doesn’t let you in on the intricacies of what he does, but you suppose you shouldn’t expect any less from the leader of an elite strike force with a whole arachno-humanoid-poly-multiverse to protect.

Not that you’re supposed to know about any of that, of course. 

“Okay,” you relent, feigning resignation. “Let me hazard a guess.” 

He cocks an eyebrow and waits for you to continue.

“There’s some kind of threat on the loose that could cause the end of the world as we know it, and you’ve been off on some kind of righteous, multiversal crusade to save us all from impending doom!”

A moment passes. The silence is loud. 

Despite being thrown off by your disturbingly accurate description of his activities, Miguel quickly masks his shock. Stubborn as always, he acts as if he did not hear you and brushes you off with a stern “It’s classified. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You don’t know what you’re talking about? You scoff internally, stare shifting to the wooden floorboards. Super-senses be damned, Miguel is not as slick as he thinks he is – how else would you have found out about the secret Spider Society, if not for his carelessness? Some days before he’d left, in the dead of night when he thought you were asleep, you heard snippets of his conversations with his spider-counterparts. Something about anomalies and canon events. Direct orders whispered aggressively into his comms device. His word was absolute and final, clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation. This is the first time he’s using it on you, though. 

Finding out about secrets he’d kept about his work life had made you wonder about his personal life too. He’d never told you much about it, and his typically curt responses become even shorter when you tried to pry. What you do know, is that it has left a sense of melancholy that enshrouds his being. It deepens the furrow of his brow and lingers in the steely, guarded glint in his eye. But entwined with that melancholy is a certain magnetism, something electric and yet tangible, distinct and yet enigmatic. It glows red like the laser of his webs, like the colour of his eyes when he is lost in the throes of passion. Right when you think you’ve got it in your grasp, it evades you, smooth and fluid like his ducking and weaving in the midst of a fight. He was just as much in your reach as he was elusive.

And judging by what he says next, nothing’s going to change anytime soon.

“Look,” he instructs you, placing a guiding hand on your cheek and redirecting your focus onto him. “I came here to tell you that I’m gonna be gone for a while.”

You shoot him a deadpan look. He sighs and corrects himself. “A longer while. There’s something I have to finish.” 

“Ha!” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Something you have to-” The frown on your face deepens further. “You know what, nevermind.”

Frustrated by his cryptic words, you secure your hold on your dress and march over to the mirror. You can hear him grumbling to himself but don’t bother paying him any mind. Looks like girls’ night is back on. Who does he think he is, telling you nothing and expecting you to give everything up for him? Your time, your energy – your love?

As you rage internally, you fumble with the ties at the back of the dress, twisting and turning as you try to tie them yourself.

“You want some help with that?”

“...” 

For once, you decide, you’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. Let him be on the receiving end of his typical bull-like stubbornness and see if he likes it. The eye that twitches at your lack of response gives you your answer.

“Oh, okay, you’re just gonna keep struggling.”

“...”

“The silent treatment? Really? Sooo mature.” The irritation in his voice is almost tangible, and you secretly revel in it. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see him standing with his hand on his hip that’s jutting out; he’s clearly not enjoying being ignored. You hold back a petty snicker. Serves him right.

After a few more moments of you jerking about with your elbows akimbo and nose scrunched up in concentration, you succeed. In your current vulnerable emotional state, you can’t help but be pleased with yourself for doing it without his help. You don’t need him, really.

Your victory, however, is incredibly short-lived. While admiring your reflected figure in the mirror, you notice that the price tag is still attached to the dress. In the one spot you really couldn’t reach. Damn it.

“...help me get the tag.”

“Huh?” Miguel feigns ignorance, the cheeky bastard. “I didn’t get that, could you speak up a little?” He’s going to make you regret ever trying to one-up him.

“I said, could you help me get the tag?” He doesn’t move an inch. “Please?!”

He huffs in what you assume to be approval. Instead of grabbing the pair of scissors that are on the vanity like you expect him to, he walks over to you with that cocky saunter of his, purpose in his steps. A large hand splays itself on your shoulder, and you feel the snag of his talon on the tag as he tears it off with unsettling precision.

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath.

You try to pull away from him, but his hand on you coasts along your shoulder until it finds your neck, again. You start to squirm, but his grip on you is firm and unyielding.

Your gazes lock in the mirror and you can feel the tension rising like the blood rushing to your face right now.

“You look…yummy.”

Yummy? What would be more fitting, is a statement like ‘wow, my love, seeing you in this dress has me thanking the gods for the gift they have bestowed upon me, lowly mortal that I am’, or a simple ‘you look hot’. Of all the words to describe the absolute vision of beauty that you are in this dress, he chooses the same one that could be used to describe a burger, or something. Maybe all those gains are getting to his brain. 

Your internal lament is interrupted by the flexing of his fingers. He tightens his grip on your neck to focus your attention on him, the column of your neck fitting snugly into the mould of his palm – you have nowhere to go.

You know that your boyfriend was never one to miss a detail, a characteristic further enhanced by his spider mutation. A true man of science, Miguel never strayed far from his training – in his mind was a catalogue of each and every one of the reactions he had seen displayed on your face and the actions he had performed to elicit them. Observe, record, review. Every caress, every pull, every squeeze. By now, he had perfected his method; a fact that would usually make your skin buzz with anticipation now makes your stomach pool with dread.

Even when you know he’s about to use his charm on you, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Not that you’d want to, really.

His claw trails down your décolletage, leaving a light sting in its wake that’s equal parts pleasant as it is painful – your favourite kind of balance and he knows it. It teeters on the edge of your limit, gentle enough not to draw blood but harsh enough to draw out a dull pain that makes your heart thrum with excitement. You know that with his enhanced hearing there is no doubt he can hear it beating like the wings of a hummingbird, the poor organ struggling to pump enough oxygen around your body to keep you from panting like a dog under his intense scrutiny. Your suspicions are confirmed by the smug huff he lets out, puff of his breath wafting over your face and pricking your skin with goosebumps.

You let out a shaky exhale. Your chest sticks out as your lungs expand with air again, pushing his claw further into your skin so it digs deep enough to leave an imprint. The extended talon continues on its titillating trip down the smooth expanse of your skin, your eager body betraying your mind by keening towards him. It is no stranger to his wily charm, much used to his teasing touch being a promise of what is soon to come.

No, you remind yourself. You are angry. The sole claw lowers further, dipping into the v shaped slit that your dress’ neckline leaves exposed. He pulls at the gathered silk, applying enough pressure that it tugs at the ties holding the dress together on your frame, your sloppily-done knot threatening to come loose and bare even more of your skin for his greedy eyes to devour. He locks eyes with you again and raises a single eyebrow, a silent question. Your breath hitches in anticipation, but you keep your head up, chin raised defiantly. Still angry.

He massages your shoulders, large hands that have been made rough with work kneading the stiffness out of them. Your eyes shut against your will and you are so caught up in his relaxing ministrations that you don’t remember the point in which his titan frame swallowed yours up in a back hug.

You feel the rumble of a snarl bubble up in his chest, vibrations travelling from his being into yours. He leans down, hooks his chin onto your shoulder and playfully bites at the air beside your ear, a non-verbal attempt at coaxing you back into conversation. 

For a man like him who is rarely given to mirth, it is moments like these that you cherish, when he’s all bite and no bark in the best of ways. The clack sound of his venomous fangs coming together makes you recoil reflexively, but you cannot deny the thrill the sound incites in you. You shudder in excitement. Against your better instincts, the thought that he has the power to do with your life what he will but chooses not to is part of his allure. It stimulates the adrenaline that surges through your veins like a live current, dangerous and deadly. 

“Good girl.” He affirms your submission, so you try to take a step backwards so as not to give into his playful persuasions. Alas, your resistance only delivers you further into his clutches. 6 foot – nearly 7, he would correct you – of hunk keeping you in your place, where you belong. Safe, and in his arms.

With an effortless tug, he pulls you towards the bed where you both collapse in a heap. The pair of you are a tangle of limbs, so that you cannot move without moving him, and he cannot move without moving you. Your bodies are in sync, now all that’s left is your hearts.

When you begin to drift off to sleep – shouting matches are actually rather exhausting – the tickle of his soft breathing over your face wakes you.

“I lost something dear to me.” You open one eye, urging him to continue. “Someone,” he corrects, “dear to me.” 

This grabs your full attention, and now you are wide awake. The moment you’d given up hope, was the moment he’d decided to open up the window of his heart to you. Let the cool breeze of your love enter.

“I don’t always like what I have to do, but I know I have to be the one to do it.” His eyes are earnest, but his gaze is soft. Touched by his honesty, you place a tender palm on the plane of his cheek and stroke it up and down. “I’ve given up too much to stop now.” 

Never have you heard a voice so heavy-laden with grief. 

“Baby-” you start.

“You know I’d never want to hurt you, right?” He cuts you off. He whispers it into the shell of your ear and noses at the skin of your neck, feeling the hum that you let out. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from the base of your throat to your neck as if urging the words to spill out from you. 

“Do you forgive me?” You are quick to find his eyes, placing your hands on his impressively-large pecs. Should any one person be allowed to have so much chest?!

“Oh,” you put on an act of sudden realisation. “I forgave you as soon as you swung through that window, big boy.” You reach up to grip his chin and pull his face down to yours, taking in the perplexed look on his face as he attempts to connect the dots. “I just wanted to make you work for it.”

For the second time tonight, you see an unmistakable flash of red, this time in his eye.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

☼ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

@heirtothekingdom , @lanasblood

𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰/𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 <3

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