#because the pale tree was protecting them

[commanders-company]

Reforged

Do you remember me, mother?

Do you remember when the fleet fell, and the jungle roar pierced our minds? Many trembled, many faltered, but I stood resolute. My duty as warden meant I could not let the call take hold; there were far too many lives in my hands for that. I gave words of comfort, brought the lost back home, and gave a quick end to those too far gone. Grueling work, but I did it gladly.

Do you remember the silence? For weeks after, the dream was chaotic, a swirling vortex of panic and confusion. Everyone had questions and no one had answers. And when the jungle dragon was finally slain, what followed felt like a wasteland. Saplings were afraid to peer into the dream. Their elder siblings were disillusioned. I remained. I had to.

Do you remember where I was sent? A sudden urging pushed me and a small company of valiants to Mount Maelstrom, further from the forest than any of us had ever been. The destroyers were on the move, or so the dream said. We marched, your loyal tin soldiers, confident that the dream would keep us safe. But the dream had changed, hadn't it? You were still so weak after the attack. And yet you sent us out.

Do you remember the names of the fallen?

Did you hear their screams?

Do you know how long I burned, buried in the rubble?

I called out, begged for help, screamed in pain. No one came to my rescue. A footnote in the great dream, to be cataloged and forgotten with the rest. But in the midst of my suffering, I was resolute. I believed in you. I had to.

And then another voice came: primal, indistinct, but getting closer. It spoke of fire and ruin. Promised power. The power to save myself.

As I clawed my way out of the melting rock, I confronted the truth: you never saved me. You left me to die.

I have no need of the dream anymore. No need for siblings or titles or anything green. Magma boils in my veins, waiting to be released. Every moment is pain, my skin is reduced to ash, removing every last trace of what I was before. His voice continues in my ear - powerful, wild, driving me toward one goal.

Do you hear me now, mother?

No matter. You will soon.

[trulyumai]

Protector of his Woman

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Synopsis: Leaving the kingdom was a choice, but leaving his wife? Out of the question.

Warnings: Talk of violence/Death.

Enjoy!

“Does thou take me for a fool?��� 

The pale flame stood tall, beside him his wife gripped onto the forearm placed in front of her frame. She stood just behind said man, looking away from the escalating scene. Too distracted by the swiveling trees and smell of pine wafting through the air. 

“Of course not, your grace! Its, well, your mother thought it best-”

“My mother disgraces me with such a request, yet is unfit to be present?” 

The golden soldier gulped, a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his brow, illuminating his face with a light sheen. 

“N-no, she traveled to the capital today, y-your grace.” 

The knight squinted. His posture was rigid and offended by the mere man's presence. 

He stood on their porch, by their house and demanded his attention to the capital? 

How offensive, how misinformed how- 

“Husband?” 

The burning flames hushed beneath his palms as the attention diverted from the man, to the small women beside him.

“Wife,”

With half lidded eyes, the man moved a hand towards her backside and rested it upon her lower spine. The aura shifted, the heat died down and the ambiance of nature could once more be heard. (Rather than the sizzling of a flame that grew onto the man's digits.)

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad visit. It has been a while since our last outing.” He felt the strokes upon his arm, soothingly moving up and down, up and down. 

“Leave us,” Messmer didn’t need to look up once more, as the soldier fled down their stone walkway. 

“She insults us, thou knows of her intentions.” 

His gaze stuck to her lucky honeydew on bread, it stayed there globbing onto each detail. Her eyes were bright today, full of light and love. Yet there was also worry there, and Messmer bit his tongue for placing such a feeling onto her. Her form sagged beside his, most of his arm held her body up, halting it from falling upon the rocks.

“She does,” a pause

“But she’s your mother, to not make an appearance would surely soil your reputation, my love.” 

“Have I not done enough? The bodies that lay upon the mountains, are they not proof of my unwavering loyalty?” His voice raised, startling the shorter woman, moving forward he gestured his hands around their vicinity. 

“All of this, all of it! It's safe because I deemed it so. Not the lord Godwyn, Not the unbeatable Melania. Me. The beholder of flames! Yet thee can be ruined- butchered, for not returning to an unloving kingdom?”

Mouth dry, she tried to speak- to comfort the rising temper of the man but no words budged. His eyes burned bright, they looked right through her. 

“No. I will not be returning, dear wife. For my place is here, by your side, in this house that I built for us,” Cautiously the knight placed himself back in front of her, and to her surprise, bent down on his knees. 

“Messmer! Get up this instant, your knees-”

A big palm covered her lips, its texture rough and calloused. It was so warm compared to the nipping air around them. And although she tried to be mad- she really did, it was hard when such a warmth was comforting to the girl. 

“My wife, I will protect thy until the flames of this land die out, until there's no one left but us to occupy such a fool of a kingdom,” 

“However,” 

The bigger man's hand dropped from her lips, both of his limbs instead wrapped themselves around her being, until his elbows molded together. 

“Do not ask me to leave your side again. Promise me.” 

“Husband… I simply canno-

“Promise me!” The man shouted, his grip tightened fastly around her.

Her nails dug into the man's wrists, and although she wasn’t in pain, his fervent yet fierce attitude scattered her mind. She wasn’t used to such a ferocity of emotion emitting from the man, aimed at her no less.

“I- I promise, I promise my love!” 

As if those were the words he was waiting for all his life, the man crumpled beneath her frame, his head buried between the ripples of her dress, with his nose digging into her stomach. 

She didn't know just how far such a devotion could- would go for the maroon knight. 

For how could she see the future, wrapped in nothing but flame and immorality?

“I  adore you, little wife,” Yellowed iris’ glanced upon her delicate ones. 

A laugh broke out between her lips, enchanting the man entirely.

“And I you, Husband.”

As if starved the man leaned up quickly; hungrily, to lock his lips against hers. Broken skin connected with softened and smooth, Messmer moaned out in content. 

If his wife was to be the end of the world, he would be her weapon. His flames would bathe her with as much loyalty he could give. 

What would he need a broken kingdom for, when such a devoted wife lay in his arms?

[leqonsluv3r]

naughty little bunny

re4!leon kennedy x innocent!fem reader

— a oneshot

warnings: MDNI, 18+, dom!leon, sub!reader, reader is innocent but not stupid, established relationship/dynamic, unprotected sex, leon calls reader bunny, spitting (if you squint), praise, degradation, knife play, reader is female (she/her) pronouns used, spanking, scratching, some aftercare, reader has hair long enough to pull (but no other descriptions).

“she was quiet, like a rabbit. she was methodical with her actions. almost seemingly innocent as she used his knife to hide behind her back. almost as if she was going to stab someone, she heard a noise. a creak in the house. she was tiny, fragile and defenseless except for the knife sheathed behind her frame. she was ready to leap, to pounce until she heard his voice. "bunny..." slow and mercifully calling to her. she was damned.”

— or leon catches reader using his knife and decides to punish her for it

an: this is so long awaited it’s crazy, sorry for the delay my lovelies <3

masterlist taglist

she lays in bed, her body pulled tight under the covers, her body laying in a string of pale skin and tight limbs. she has hickeys over her bare body, her long hair strewn across the pillow. she keeps her eyes closed and opened as she awakes.

another morning of just lying in bed, naked and exhausted as her petite body recovers from leon’s punishment from last night. she smiles weakly at the memory, her body resting against the black sheets.

his touch ghosting over her skin from the night before. he left early in the morning as he always does. it makes her sad but she knows better, he works and does the things he does so she’ll never live like she did before.

he does it for her, he loves her deep down. even if he never says it out loud, she knows.

it’s the same everyday, she stays home. she cleans and cooks, lounges on the couch. it’s not like she didn’t want to just be a stay at home…girlfriend. but he insisted when they’re arrangement got more serious, giving that his undisclosed job was dangerous.

she didn’t ask questions. she knew better, she knew that he was protecting her. keeping her in his possession out of the fear that she would find someone better. which wasn’t possible in her mind.

she knew things, but things she probably shouldn’t because of how private he was. how much he kept things under lock and key, for her own good? probably. she could see the look in his eyes sometimes when he came home from his “work-trips”.

this look that said everything without saying anything at all. he had seen things, things that were probably beyond her comprehension. of course she had questions, doubts, who wouldn’t?

he spoiled her, gave her a home and started taking care of her. giving her a less shitty life. she doesn’t know where it’s going or why he chose of her of all women. two years ago seems so far away now, so not real and she doesn’t know if she’s just numb to it now, or if she’s just too happy with the sex, love and money to care.

eventually, she gets out of bed, pulling the black sheets off of her bare body that’s covered in hickeys and marks of leon’s love. she grabs her pale pink silk robe from the chair and ties it around her bare body.

she looks around the bedroom, sighing. he didn’t even leave a note this time. she thinks to herself as she opens up the curtains to the bedroom, looking outside at the large front yard. the large trees rustling as a small wind blew through them. her flowers that she planted in the garden; a mix of tulips and lilies.

she loved the little additions she had made to his home, their home, even after two years she had to keep reminding herself that she lived there too. even if he did pay for everything.

she protested at first, wanting to contribute, but he told her he was okay with it. that his job paid enough, so she didn’t argue. he didn’t protest when she started picking out furniture, buying her clothes, letting her plant flowers and start a small garden.

he would just smile, nod and hand his card over to her. he never argued. it was when she didn’t follow his orders that he got…upset. he would punish her, even though she was supposed to hate the spanks that left her ass red and bruising, she enjoyed it.

even though she knew deep down she shouldn’t, but she didn’t really care anymore. he was always gentle and rough in the times where it really mattered. she deep down craved it, knowing that if she ever did decide to leave him, she’d never be the same again.

he was unlike anyone she had ever met before. she moved to the bathroom attached to the bedroom, padding her bare feet across the cold tile. she took a minute to look at her appearance in the mirror. the hickeys had swarmed all over her neck like a necklace of some kind.

she lets her fingers trace them with a light touch, sending shivers at the memories of the look. she cracks a small smile. she knows that she is never going to ever forget this, forget his touch.

but she wonders, even if deep down he could ever tell her that he loves her. that he could emotionally open and just tell her. she’s gonna have to find out. but until then she’s just going to wait.

and hopefully he will.

she hopes.

later in the day, she finished cleaning, working in her garden. then she came back in, took a shower. she then blowed dried her hair and styled it as she liked. she put on a tennis skirt and just a tank top and decided to maybe take a nap for a little bit.

she was already exhausted and she had only been up and around for six hours. she let her body relax into the black duvet cover of the bed on her side. her body relaxing into the sheets again as she tried to take a nap. she needed it, at least she felt like she was obligated to it.

she had done what she needed too, taken care of almost everything about the house. she sighed and rolled to face away from the window and moving her face to press into his pillow on his side of the bed.

she inhales him on his pillow, smelling the leon smell that came with him. she smelled the hint of his cologne on the sheets and the subtle smell of his shampoo. it was hard not having him around most of the times. he had taken a week off two months ago, and that was the best week of her life.

just sex, food, sleeping and just them.

but inhaling him now, on the sheets in the bed they shared. it was almost like a drug, a small dose of it that left her wanting more.

she groaned into the sheets, upset. “fuck…” she sighed as she rolled on her back, she looked up at the ceiling of their bedroom. could he be any slower getting home? she thinks as she lets her hands drift to her inner thigh underneath her skirt.

just then as she’s about to get closer to where she really wants her hands, a slam echos through downstairs and she jumps out of bed. her heart pounding in her body as she scrambled over to where leon kept his knifes and other small weapons.

she reached into the drawer and grabbed the knife, holding it behind her back and clicking it open as she quietly opens the door. she carefully creeps down the hallway, her blood pumping fast in her veins.

her breath running fast through her throat, as her heart pounds in her ears. she creeps down the stairs. he usually called out when he was home, or he didn’t slam the door as hard. she didn’t know if it was him, if it was, he was home early.

she keeps the knife of his blade right behind her as she moves, creeping steadily as her breath comes out short. she rounds the corner to the kitchen slowly, looking to see leon standing there.

she breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand over her heart, “thank god.” she breathes out, causing him to turn around and look at her with raised eyebrows. “you okay, bunny?” he asks with a small crooked smirk on his features.

she moved the knife from behind her back to click it shut and hold it, concealing it in her palm. “i just thought you were an intruder.” she chuckles nervously as she looks at him. running her free hand over her face.

“your lucky i’m not.” he mumbled as he dropped his work bag on the counter and looked over at her. her body sheathed behind the corner to the kitchen, she hides her palm with his knife there.

“i suppose.” she hums as she smiles softly at him, her body resting half against the wall. she sheathes the knife in her palm, “your acting weird.” he observes as he looks her over with a trained eye.

she swallows and shakes her head, smiling nervously, “no i’m not, i’m just…your home early. i didn’t expect you to be.” she says with a small avert of her eyes to her feet. he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a small smirk, he slowly saunters over to where she is.

“give it.” he says sternly as he towers over her, holding out his large hand. “i know you have something that your not supposed to. give it.” he says in a still stern voice, his blue eyes piercing into hers like knives. she feels her panties dampen at his command but she shakily obeys him, moving her palm to give him the concealed knife.

she lays it in his palm, removing her hand and letting it drop back by her side as everything within her screamed: this isn’t good. he’s mad, abandon ship! but he just sighed and shook his head as he looked down at one of his knives. “why did you have this?” he says in a low voice, holding it up in his hands in front of her face.

she shakily breathes, “i thought you were an intruder, like i said.” she says in a small breath as she looks from the knife to him, praying to god that he wasn’t mad or upset with her in any capacity. he chuckles dryly, his blue eyes glimmering a little as he raised an eyebrow at her, “and you thought a knife was going to do something? do you even know how to use this?”

he held up the knife and even clicked it open for emphasis, her breath failing her, her panties dampening at his voice. “n-no? i mean, i’ve seen movies and stuff, i thought it was…pretty simple.” she explains with a small nervous smile as she moves a little on her feet.

he hums in amusement, a grin forming on his face. “it’s anything but simple, baby. you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone with just this knife.” he says in a almost menacing voice. he holds it up to show her but then he quickly moves it to her throat.

she sucks in a breath and her eyes go wide as she looks at him, she looks at his face with fear as the cold metal kisses the pale skin of her throat. she tries to move her head against the wall to get away from the edge of the knife. “they could turn it on you in a second.” he snaps with his free hand to emphasize his point as he looms over her on the wall, she can barely feel the edge of the blade on her skin.

“i-i get it…can you…can you please get it away from me? this isn’t…funny.” she manages to get out nervously as she looks up at him, trying to be aware of the knife against her throat.

he eyes her, nodding slowly, still keeping that smirk on his face. “i’ll take it off after you learn not to put your hands on my knives when you don’t even know what the hell your doing.” he says in frustration, the veins on his arm constricting as he presses the knife in a little.

she felt her blood pumping faster and faster, her heart pounding in her ears. she nods slowly as she’s frozen in fear and she looks up at him. she knew that this was going to end up in a punishment like it always did.

she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him drag the blade down her throat. she feels the cool metal over her collarbone and onto the bra strap peeking out beneath her tank top. she shuddered as she felt him let it go under the bra strap and the tank top strap, and with one foul swoop he sliced it open.

she gasped as the bra and tank top snapped under the blade on one side. she let her chest heave up and down in fear as she felt arousal going to her core. he watched her face, seeing her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

he knew he was having an affect on her. he wasn’t stupid. he had been with her long enough to know when she was aroused from being punished.

“oh? you like the knife huh?” he says with a mocking tone towards her, running the blade of the knife to the other side of her chest and snapping the other side of her bra and tank top strap off. she flinched again, sucking in a breath and sending daggers his way.

“i’ll buy you a new one.” he says as if he can read the look in her eyes. she was obviously using the fact that he cut her bra off the knife as an excuse to be mad. just so he maybe wouldn’t punish her as bad, yeah, not gonna happen.

she swallows a whimper as he runs the knife over her hot skin and chest, he pulls the ruined tank top and bra down, showcasing her breasts to him fully now. “oh my, gorgeous girl. these fucking tits…” he trails off as he makes a small noise.

“perfect titties baby, all mine.” he says in a low voice as he runs the back of the knife over her nipples, the metal from the knife makes her release a small moan. she can feel them hardening, her pulse pumping from the danger and the sensation.

he chuckles lowly, “you like that? mmm, of course you do.” he says with a small look of amusement in his eyes, his hand moving the knife away from her entirely. “go bend over on the countertop, bunny. strip. you need to be punished.” he says in a demand, not as a question.

she feels her pussy pulse around nothing, practically dripping and needy at this point, a blush covering her face as she walks over to the kitchen island, stripping off her ruined tank top and bra, then sliding her skirt down her legs, then her underwear that are practically soaked through by now.

she lets them pool on the kitchen floor, he watches this with a small smirk of satisfaction and approval on his face. “bend over. you know the drill.” he says with a small grin, she nods slowly because she does know the drill, she knows what happens next.

she’s practically eager for it.

so she bends over the island in the kitchen, her nipples and breasts pressing against the cold surface and making her shiver. goosebumps erupting all over her skin at the cool air of the kitchen, her pussy and ass exposed to him as he slowly walks up behind her.

he clips the knife shut and puts it on the kitchen table before walking up behind her and rubbing his hand over the curve of her ass. “such a beautiful little ass. i think im gonna paint it red.” he says with a low voice as he grins. she bites her lip and feels his words go straight to her pussy.

he then lifts his hand up after a couple moments before bringing it down and smacking her left cheek hard, making her squeal a little. she gave up on trying to keep her noises inside, it was pointless. “mmm,” he licks his lips, rubbing over the red mark on her ass that was slowly forming.

“needs more red.” he says with a smile that was anything but genuine or gentle in this moment. he lifts up his hand again and brings it down on her right cheek this time. this causes her to release a noise mixed with a moan and a whimper. “oh bunny,” he lightly smacks both of her cheeks this time.

“this is what happens when you touch my stuff.” he says with a small mocking pout, she can’t even see his face but she can hear the cockiness, assertiveness dripping from his voice like molasses.

he spanks her again, and again and again.

until she’s practically leaking down the inside of her thigh, her cheek is pressed against the cool countertop and she’s gasping and whining. he clicks his tongue, not denying how his erection is painfully throbbing in his work pants.

“i think you’ve learned your lesson, bunny. what was it again?” he says with a small hint of amusement in his voice as he rubs his hands over the flesh of her ass, soothing over her reddened cheeks.

she sniffles and bites her lip, nearly making it bleed. “not to touch your stuff.” she manages to get out in a strained voice, he nods and smiles. “very good.” he says with a small little tap of her bare hip.

“turn around and lay on the counter for me. you’ve learned your lesson, now it’s time for your reward.” he says with a small grin, unbuttoning his pants. she nods slowly and shakily slides to stand up and turn around on her feet, wobbling a little. he braces a hand on her bare hip, “easy now, don’t fall.” he says with a small smile.

she knows he’s being a little nicer now, but she knows the switch is going to flip again and he’s gonna fuck her until she can’t walk or see straight. which is exactly what she wants and craves. and she feels relief now, relief that she wanted deep down in her bones. this was her kryptonite.

she swallows, hopping up on the counter and feeling the cool marble against the flesh of her red and stinging ass. she hisses through her teeth but accepts it and lays back, her long hair splayed throughout the counter as she feels the marble kiss the delicate skin of her back.

“good girl.” she hears him say as he pushes his pants and boxers down, looking over her body with a small bite of his lip. his praise went straight to her core, her body making her leak all over the countertop.

he released his hardened erection from his boxers, her teeth bit down on her lip in long awaited anticipation of what was about to come. he was always big to her, nothing could match how he felt inside of her.

she was practically drooling at the sight of it, keeping her legs spread on the countertop as she leaned off of her elbows. her bare back coming in contact with the cold marble countertop, as he stepped between her spread legs.

“my sweet little, bunny.” he hums lowly as he runs his hands over the plains over her stomach, admiring the way she shivered beneath his touch. “soaking all over the kitchen, so fucking messy…” she hears him say as he runs the head of his dick through her folds, making her release a small whimper.

“please. just…fuck me…” she manages to get out as she wiggles a little bit, her fists clenched uselessly at her sides as she waits for him to stop teasing her already. he shakes his head, spanking her ass lightly again, “your not in any position to make demands right now, bunny.” he says lowly, almost dangerously as he strips off his t-shirt, tossing it on the floor.

he jacks his cock a little, running the tip over her soaked folds again. the tip catches her clit and it makes her release a small moan. his low tone making her pathetically clench around nothing, she almost hated how him being mean made her so wet.

he leaned over her as she laid on the counter, his length resting hard on her folds as she feels him run his fingers over her cheek in a soft caress. “you gonna be a good girl? accept your reward?” he says with a small daring raise of his brow, an evil smirk settling onto his angelic features.

she doesn’t even have to think before she’s nodding, desperately wanting him inside of her. she wants to feel consumed by him, feel him hold her, feel him absolutely bruise her cervix. she doesn’t care anymore, her thoughts are just; him, him, him. and all on repeat.

he hums lowly, moving a little which causes his dick to prod at her soaked opening. she instinctively grabs onto his bicep at this and releases a pathetic little noise, “mmm, gonna stretch you out all over again. make sure your body doesn’t forget me.” he says in a low rasp as he leans down and lets his hand caress her jaw.

her body melts at his words, her pussy reacting to it more then herself. he taps the side of her jaw as he leans over her, “open.” she doesn’t even have to think either before she’s opening her mouth and he’s releasing spit into her open mouth.

“now swallow and then i’ll fuck you, bunny.” he says demandingly as she closes her mouth and swallows, feeling his saliva slide down her throat. she sticks out her tongue for him, showing him that she did it. he nods in an affirming way, reaching down between them and sticking just the tip in.

she almost would see stars if her eyes weren’t open, she’s sure of it. she feels her mouth fall open, her head rolling back. he pushes in just a little bit more and she wraps her ankles around his back, her hands sliding around and onto his back.

“taking it so well, knew she’d remember me.” he says in a strangled voice as he furrows his brows, pushing into her more until she was filled to the brim with him. all she could think of was she was so full, her nails slightly digging into his back, her eyes fluttering open and shut beneath him. the praise making her pussy and her head swim in delight and lust.

she could only release a strangled noise, he caresses her hair out of her eyes delicately as he leans over her, letting her adjust to his size again. “doing so good, baby. your so good.” he says in a small strangled release of his voice.

she whines and makes noises that would make a grown man blush scarlet as he pumps in and out of her at a punishing pace. his long and thick cock hitting that spot inside of her that made her see heaven and earth. her nails digging into his back and scratching deep, he lets out a low groan at this.

it doesn’t slow him down, just eggs him on. he keeps moving his hips, hitting that spot inside of her over and over again. her head is empty, all she can think of his him and his dick, feeling so fucking full and just euphoric.

“you close, bunny? gonna come all over my cock?” he says in a strained voice, she can tell he’s close too. he wants to feel her come around him, let her climax push him over the edge. she nods rapidly and releases lewd noises at his words, he reaches down and grabs her thigh that’s wrapped around his waist, pushing it up higher.

the new angle making her practically draw blood on his back, his chest heaving over her as he grunts and groans, making her whimper. every hit and punch of his dick to her cervix is bringing her closer and closer. he reaches down between them with his free hand and rubs her clit.

the sensation does what it’s supposed too, flinging her over the edge as she releases cry after cry, moaning and feeling tears of desire leak out of her eyes. she clenches around him as she comes, he groans and buries his head into her neck.

“so fucking good, gonna come inside, baby. paint your pretty walls white.” he growls against her skin as he picks up his sloppy and stuttering pace, her fingernails still digging into his back as he fucks her through her orgasm to chase his own.

his words making her back arch and her spine stiffen as he finally comes with a few more languid thrusts. releasing a small moan into the skin of her neck. his cum filling her up, making her fuller then ever and she can feel it. the familiar and foreign feeling that feels oddly comforting in a way she can’t describe.

she feels him press a small kiss to the skin of her neck, kissing his way up gently to her lips. his chest heaving from his previous release as he looks straight down at her, her eyes connecting with his in a way that makes her blush. makes her feel embarrassed after so long but oddly connected.

“i love you. you know that right?” he says and finally, finally her confirmations are there. her head moves to nod, looking up at him with a languid smile, “i know.” she whispers, her mouth dry. both of their skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the sex they had just had.

but the words ring out in her mind like gunshots, making her wanna cry. she doesn’t but she finally knows, all the actions and things he’s said since they’ve been together have been solidified. she feels like she could die a happy woman if she passed away right now.

he smiles, a rare occurrence, down at her. he leans down and presses a slow kiss to her lips, tasting her and conveying another message through his actions instead of his words.

after he pulls away from the kiss, he slowly pulls out of her. it leaves her oddly vulnerable and cold, he notices the change and grabs a paper towel from the roll on the kitchen island and wipes the inside of her thighs and where she was leaking with his release.

“feel better?” she hears him ask, she nods with a small lovesick grin on her features. she absolutely feels better. not a thing is wrong for her right now. she feels like she’s where she needs to be, right here with him.

“yeah, much better.” she says softly, a scarlet covering her cheeks as she sits up on the counter. this prompts him to pull his boxers and pants back up, tucking himself away. “i love you too…” she starts and his head peeks up and looks at her as she sits on the counter.

a cheeky smile before she continues, “in case you didn’t know.” she adds with a small giggle. he rolls his eyes playfully and steps in between her bare legs, moving some of her sweaty hair away from her forehead, “i did know babygirl, but thank you for telling me.” he whispers sweetly.

and he’s only sweet with her, she knows that. she knows she is special to him, just as he’s special to her. his girl, his bunny, his love. everything that he wants her to be, she’ll be for him. and she’ll do it with pride. because he loves her and she loves him just as much.

if not more.

an: go to this post to join the taglist (also linked at the beginning with my masterlist), pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i missed posting oneshots, this one (amongst others) has been sitting in my drafts for the longest. so my apologies. i love you all <33

taglist: @heartsforvin



[natalievoncatte]

The first time Kara Danvers touched Lena Luthor was seared on her memory. Lena had offered her hand in the usual way and Kara took it, but it was no ordinary handshake. Her grip was firm, but not controlling, and her flesh was warm, almost feverish. The handshake was like Kara herself- bold and brash at first, then softening, letting Lena take the lead almost with a sense of relief.

(Later, in a darkened room with an empty whisky bottle by her head and a broken picture frame clutched to her chest, Lena would realize that had *not* been the first time that Kara had touched her; the first time was to save her, rescue her, protect her, to bend steel one moment and reassure a terrified woman the next, and that first touch had set a tone for the others, a surpassing tenderness she didn’t deserve)

The next touch she remembered was Kara gently tapping her shoulder on a restaurant terrace. Lena had tensed at the brush of fingers on her shoulder, looking up sharply with a stabbing fear in her gut- it was the first time she’d dined out casually and publicly since her brother committed a literal crime against humanity. She wouldn’t dare do something so ordinary in Metropolis; she’d be lucky if there were only protesters with signs as she was leaving. Only when she arrived in National City did she let her guard down, both literally and figuratively. Kara’s impossibly soft fingers on her bare shoulder jolted her from her reading and she felt that spike of terror for just a moment before she met a pretty smile and those lovely, strangely haunted blue eyes greeting her.

Lena had built walls of steel and stone and pain and the woman who came from the sky took them apart touch by touch, not with fists but with back-pats and handshakes and hugs until there was nothing left but a bare soul, exposed and raw like a frayed nerve, with only Kara to protect it.

The next time it happened was at a gala. It wasn’t an important one and Kara was frankly bullshitting Lena by asking her to tag along to “report” on the goings-on. Lena knew it would be painfully boring for Kara because it was painfully boring for her.

That was what she thought, anyway, until Kara, bold sweet Kara, rested a guiding hand on the small of Lena’s back and lit up every nerve in ending in her body like a Christmas tree, as she defensively stood proud next to Lena, towering over her and the randy city councilman both. She wouldn’t know until later, much later, why Kara had seemed so much more herself, more true, in that moment.

After that was one of the most painful nights in her life. Lena had always known she was trash, that she was nothing but one of Lionel Luthor’s by-blows; sometimes she could hear Lilian at the funeral, snarling at her that she only existed because her father was a second too late to waste her on her mother’s thigh where she belonged. The world didn’t care about her hospital or her charity work or the effort she’d put into making her company a positive force in the world. Someone told them she poisoned the children and the goodwill was gone in a puff of smoke like the thin, gossamer thing it had been. Once a Luthor, always a Luthor.

Then Kara was there, a living, loving fortress of bone and muscle and love, wrapping Lena so tightly in a shield of pure compassion that she could have survived anything, that even as the tears fell she knew that she could live in a world that hated her so long as this one person could would love her so much. Kara carried her through that storm and more besides.

That was also the night that Lena began using her own touch as a substitute, a pale imitation of the one she wanted from Kara but knew she would never have.

But they did not always touch.

Later, after more hugs and more lingering hands and shared dances, they would sit next to each other for nights of games or movies, and their friends would begin to make innuendos and begin to stare and Lena let herself pretend that the touches were more than they were.

In the darkest hours of the night Lena would lie in an empty bed and pray for touches.

Then the worst thing happened, and she denied the touch. Kara reached out, meaning to console, to comfort, to protect, to make it all better with her maddening power, but there was no fixing it. In the frozen tomb that was Kara’s arctic fortress, Lena buried Kara alive in a green hell and wished never to be touched again.

But her anger did not last forever. It never does. They fought, they argued, Kara ruined her plans, called her a villain, resisted her at every turn… but never touched her. Those soft hands were never laid upon her in anger and there were times when Lena almost wanted it, just to feel them again.

Then one day Lena saw too much and learned too much and the enormity of what she had done came down upon her, rushing in on her all at once, and she was as raw and naked and pained as she had been that night long ago when she first realized what Kara’s touches meant.

When she rushed back to the rent controlled side of town, going on foot for fear her brother would learn of her destination if she took the car, she only had wanted to set things right. She knew she didn’t deserve what she’d already been given and would ask no more.

Kara was waiting for her. When she opened the door she stood tall, jaw set, hair down over a pastel cardigan. The effect of Supergirl’s stern, righteous conviction garbed in the soft, inviting form of Kara made her heart do a flip, almost made her run, but she held her ground, feeling like a child begging forgiveness from a hurricane.

Lena stood before the open door, trembling and shaking, tears cutting red lines down her cheeks as she explained herself.

She didn’t expect Kara to touch her, so when it happened she flinched, almost yelped. When those powerful arms wrapped around her, it was as if nothing had changed, but everything had changed, because for the first time, Lena touched her back.

Lena touched her back without fear or reservation. She touched her back without the nervousness that came with hugging her Straight Best Friend. She hugged her back without deceit. She hugged her back with absolute conviction, saying with her arms and hands what her ever broken heart could never speak in words.

Kara’s touch answered her. She cupped Lena’s chin with a softness, a gentle control that no human could ever have, even as she closed the apartment door with such intensity that it left a hand print in the metal. The touches changed; they were no longer announcements but conversations, exchanges, dances and music at the same time. The world became a blur, a dreamscape of hands lifting her from the floor and relieving her of her coat and laying her on a bed, each caress a declaration that Lena answered with her own.

When their lips met, Lena poured into them every thought, every desire, every pain, every longing. She would have swallowed Kara if she could, climbed inside her, and Kara’s hands and lips begged and adored and instructed and finally, after, in morning sunlight, Lena buried her face in a sleeping Kara’s shoulder and wept her joy and freedom, because at last she was home.

When Alex came and Kara told her that Lena would help them safe the world, they were holding hands.

They would be holding hands again much later, after much love and loss and hope and joy, when Kara closed a delicate bracelet around Lena’s wrist.

[stevieschrodinger]

Steve eats, but only because Robin puts food in front of him. Only because she reminds him it's for the pup.

Like he needs reminding. Steve often rests his hand protectively over his rounded tummy. It's reflexive, to protect the only part of Eddie he has left. He feels like he hasn't slept in months, even though he knows he sleeps often, in broken bits and pieces.

He hasn't spoken for a long time, he knows that. Everyone watches him, and everyone used to tell him the same thing, 'they're just dreams Steve, Eddie is gone.'

Steve knows though, they aren't dreams. Eddie is alive, and he's trapped in the Upside Down because Steve didn't try hard enough, didn't push hard enough, didn't say the right things to get the others to believe him.

It upset Dustin the most at first, but Dustin has also been the most adamant because he saw Eddie die, can't even entertain the idea that Eddie might still be alive, because that means he left Eddie behind. That's a lot of guilt to ask a kid to carry.

Steve knows they're talking about him again, like them whispering in the kitchen makes it any better. Steve's starving himself. Steve isn't sleeping. Steve isn't showering. Steve's mate sick even if Eddie never mated him. It's the pup. It's the trauma. It's the nightmares.

They aren't nightmares though, not when Eddie holds him close, laid on a grassy meadow under a sunny blue sky.

El is here, kneeling in front of Steve, 'do you really think Eddie is alive?'

Steve clears his throats, feels full of cobwebs and sand, 'I know he is.'

Steve's said it a thousand different ways. A million. He's cried it and screamed it and shouted it and whispered it and said it as normal and level headed as he could make it sound, 'I am absolutely certain that Eddie is alive,' no one ever believes him.

She nods, 'we will check-'

'El.' It's Hopper, in the doorway, he said 'El' the same way he would say 'No'. 'We talked about this-'

'No, you talked about this. I am tired of this, for Steve, I will check. We will check, just this once.'

And Steve feels too broken to let himself hope, but he heaves himself up off the couch anyway.

El opened a gate in the pool. There's not been water in the pool for quite some time now, and it just seemed apt. A place where there is already a weakness in the world. Perfect for El.

In the end, just to stop the fighting, everyone has gone back to the Upside Down.

Steve squints at the sunny blue sky, not at all surprised to see it. Everyone else is making suitably shocked noises. The grass is green, the trees lush. From the trees, a demodog watches them. It looks different, like it fits here, healthy and well fed now, it shakes and stretches and then lopes off further into the woods.

Everything is overgrown, like the Upside Down is reclaiming everything that One created here.

Nearby, laundry flaps on a washing line, metal band shirts and torn jeans, 'Eddie,' Steve breathes for the first time in over six months, and heads into the house.

There's a bowl of odd looking fruit on the kitchen counter. In the lounge, books. So many books, all stacked and arranged into strange little towers like they are giants in a city, and the books are skyscrapers.

Upstairs, Eddie has clearly nested in Steve's room; there are guitar bits and tools on the desk, two guitars in parts.

The bed is mounded with soft things, Steve scents a pillow, it smells like Eddie...and not.

'Where the fuck is he,' Hopper grumbles.

Steve wants to snap. Wants to scream at them all. They fucking believe him now don't they? They could have had Eddie home months ago if-

Dustin has books from the living room, in the front of each is stamped 'Hawkins Public Library'. So that's where they go.

Steve doesn't know what to do when he spots Eddie. He's crouched on a table, bare toes gripping the edge. He's pale, even more so than before, skin a pale enough alabaster that Steve can see the shadow of blue veins underneath. He's flipping through a book, back and forth, back and forth, before finally stopping and hopping down from the table, 'Eddie?'

Eddie doesn't answer, eyes trained on Steve. His hair has grown, even longer, thick dark curls that Steve wants to bury his hands in.

There's a ticking noise, a low, growling rumble as Eddie stalks closer. Things happen very very quickly, Hopper raises his shotgun, El screams 'no,' Eddie's face peels apart like the petals of a flower filled with teeth as he roars and charges at them.

Hoppers gun is jerked up by an unseen hand, his shot causing plaster to rain down from the ceiling, and then Eddie is floating in the air, roaring as his face blends back to normal and then peels apart again, furious.

El's nose is bleeding, she wipes it away.

Steve moves closer. Eddie looks strange; taller. Leaner. Just, more, somehow.

Steve reaches for him, and Eddie desperately tries to get to him in return, clawing at the air, 'put him down, El.'

'Do not do that-' Hopper starts, but doesn't finish, because Eddie lands neatly on his feet, catlike in his grace, where El drops him.

He lunges for Steve, and Steve let's himself be pulled close and gathered up, Eddie clicking and chittering quietly in Steve's ear, scenting his neck, a strange sucking sensation on his skin as Eddie's face peels apart into one big mouth.

Steve relaxes. He has Eddie back.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: It's time to find your handler and make him answer for what he's done to you.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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[cartoonist-in-theory]

You’re walking down a long quiet road. It’s winter, snow covers the ground, the sky fades gray. All around you are trees that have long since dropped their leaves, cold and dead, waiting for spring. You stop beneath one, eye caught by a striking sight. Amid the bare branches you see a round bundle of stunning green leaves. Hanging down above you are dozens of beautiful little pearly white berries. The fruit tempts you, but you don’t dare touch. Instead you simply admire them. Life among the dead of winter. Mistletoe.

@slocotion Hi, here is my design for slocotion's patreon dyo doll contest. Her name is Haustoria of the Pale. I was very excited to put this together once it struck me. I thought of all my favorite fruits I could have used but then inspiration hit me as I was considering less common fruits and fungi. Mistletoe is used medicinally by some but the entire plant, including its cute white berries, is toxic. Since this is a longer post, I’ll include more notes on my design under a cut but to point out the most important thing, I’ve combined the nature of the toxic berries with some historical+mythological inspiration that I think echoes it nicely.

In Norse mythology, a well known story is that of the death of Baldr. Baldr was the most loved god of the Aesir, so when a vision of his death reached his parents Odin and Frigga, they did all they could to protect him. Frigga sent her servants all over the world to make every creature and thing vow to never harm a hair on Baldr’s head. All but mistletoe promised, too insignificant or too young to make the vow. After it was done, Bladr seemed invincible. Since nothing was willing to hurt him, the gods would sometimes gather around and throw things at him, watching everything bounce off without injuring him. Loki, jealous of the love and affection that was always paid to Baldr, came up with a plan to get rid of him. He had an arrow made of mistletoe and brought it to Baldr’s blind brother Hodr. He gave it to him to throw at Baldr as all the gods pelted him with objects and weapons. Hodr threw the arrow and, since mistletoe had never promised not to harm him, it pierced his chest, killing him instantly... And so Baldr was delivered to the depths of the land of the dead, looked over by Hel.

specific design notes under the cut thank you for looking!

Mistletoe is a very interesting plant to me. It’s not a tree or vine or bush, but instead its an evergreen parasite. The sticky seeds attach themselves to the branches and grow into it with a haustorium, which is a structure that lets them sap nutrients from the host plant. Haustoria’s name is a reference to this structure. “of the Pale” is a reference to not only the color of the berries but the pale gray and white landscape of winter.

Mistletoe berries are heavily toxic but also exist in winter, when other plants may be barren and “dead.” Because of that and their parasitic nature I see them as a sweet little balance of life and death. In addition to that, I use the split colors of the face/mask of Haustoria to reference the goddess of the land of the dead, Hel, who is described as having a body that is half black as death, split down the middle.

The structure of the outfit is inspired by Scandinavian and specifically Norwegian folk dresses, since I’m borrowing old Norse history for more inspiration, it seemed fitting. I also felt the style would be good to accompany the botanical and berry designs attractively.

The twin peaked hood is to further split the design down the middle, with little charms to show life and death.

I included white beads all over the outfit to represent the mistletoe berries themselves so they could stand out.

The dark side of her face is adorned with thorns and has three mournful black tears leaking down from her eye, as well as a hollow half of the center heart.

The light side is blushed and lively with shiny eyes, leaves shaped like the mistletoe leaves, red petals like the mistletoe blooms, three white dots to be the mistletoe fruit, and the center heart is full.

Her cape is white on the inside to represent the white of the berries and also the white of snow.

To cap it off, I do believe mistletoe is fitting for a plague doctor as they are still used medicinally to this day. :)

Thank you for reading everything and looking at my design! I’m very proud of her and I hope she doesn’t stretch the theme. And definitely more than anything else I hope you enjoy looking at her!

[torgawl]

started thinking about "the pale princess and the six pygmies" again and realised the five unloyal pygmies match the sinners of khaenri'ah pretty well.

when the pale princess from the moonlight forest and the prince from the kingdom of light enter the kingdom of pygmies, one pygmy (deformed pygmy) asks her help to save his five brothers who were trapped under different circumstances in exchange for their loyalty to her. and so starts the journey of saving each of the five pygmies.

after saving all the pygmies, she took them to the kingdom of light as part of her people and the pygmies started serving both the princess and the prince. "but they were still heinous creatures from the land of night, and corruption flowed in their veins. as the days traveling to the kingdom of light grew long and dangerous, the root of evil would again blossom in their hearts". the pygmies then started plotting revenge and ended up poisoning the prince.

one of the pygmies though (deformed pygmy), was still loyal to the princess and felt guilty for the plan and so he spirited the prince's body away from his wicked brethren and took it to where the princess was staying. what he didn't know was that the night mother had already found the princess, who she emprisoned. before collapsing, transforming into a pile of sludge and worms, and leaving the pygmy to grieve, she proclaimed one prophecy: "in thousands of years time, my greatest foe will descend. he wields a sword that heralds the dawn and wears armor that can reflect the shining sunlight. he shall destroy my kingdom and bring the prince back to life. the princess will then be free from her eternal torment. until then, i fear not a single soul in the land of might, for nothing will bring an end to my kingdom except for the catastrophe foretold by the prophecy. as for you, the treacherous slave that poisoned his master… fate shall see that you get what you deserve". at last, the pygmy hid the body in a tree hole and walked off alone into the night, into a self-imposed exile.

what specifically caught my attention was the motives each of the five unloyal pygmies gave to betray the prince, which seem to mirror the five sinners of khaenri'ah. and i guess it's also relevant to add that alberich in "the ring of the nibelung" was, in fact, ruler of the dwarves. in this case, pygmies as an allegorical parallel could very well make sense to refer to the people of khaenri'ah.

to make a few of the connections i made between the sinners and the pygmies, i went into speculation and theory territory, so take what i'm saying with a grain of salt. but going into each of them:

hroptatyr means 'sage' in old norse and was one of the many names that odin went by. the one entity in khaenri'ah, who happens to parallel odin and a sage, simultaneously, and who also made use of power from beyond beyond the skies is non other than king irmin. he became "indisposed" during the cataclysm and didn't defend his kingdom, which led to anfortas taking his place as regent. this description of events very much matches what dainsleif told us about the sinners not fullfiling their role and being unable to protect the kingdom. it also adds some context as to why the only justification for why irmin wasn't able to rule at the time of the cataclysm was because he was "indisposed". king irmin is also known to only have one eye so his respective pygmy being "blind" is very fitting.

dain also refers to himself and the sinners as "the six of us". if the loyal pygmy from the book represents dain, this would make a lot of sense. i forgot to add before but the line about corruption flowing through the pygmies veins caught my eye as well as we know the sinners shared this sinful power between them and in "a drunkard's tale", wine is used as a metaphor for the abyss. the sinners are what led to the creation of the abyss order.

from the very little we know about vedrfolnir, he's able to foresee the future. the foolish pygmy envies the smart. pierro is one of theorised identities for "the visionary". besides his title being "the jester" which is pretty much another variation for fool, he has an interesting quote in the 'pale flame' set: "since my level of learning could not compare with the sages, i failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler". it implies he used to crave knowledge, like the pygmy, and it mentions irmin, who he served while he was still in khaenri'ah. pierro is also the one behind the fatui's plans, he seems to always plan ahead and all his goals end up being fullfiled even after many complications. he also possesses great historical knowledge, both abouth the future and past, as he seems to know about arlecchino's history despite being part of the later eclipse dynasty.

surtalogi "the foul" is the one behind "foul's legacy", a combat technique used by childe. he has ties to the abyss and much like childe's combat-hungry spirit, the timid pygmy desired to battle the prince.

the shrunken pygmy is the most straightforward one. rhinedottir is a practitioner of the art of khemia, probably the most proefficient one too. like the pygmy, her focus is on creating life through alchemy.

as for rerir's connection to the carefree pygmy, i placed him by process of elimination. we know nothing about them so i don't think it's possible to make a very factual connection but the pygmy's sentiment of wanting to avenge his situation seems silimar to the feeling behind title "avenger of solnari". despite solnari not having a very clear origin, it either stems from: 'solari', related to the sun; or 'solunar', pertaining to the rising and setting times of the sun and moon, phases of the moon, eclipses, etc. the princess and the prince in the book represent the moon and sun, respectively. and there's also the ties to the eclipse dynasty in khaenri'ah.

another parallel between the sinners is the primordial one and the four shades. but rather than representing each other, they work as counterparts: hroptatyr vs primordial one, vedrfolnir vs istaroth, rhinedottir vs the shade of life, rerir vs the shade of death (?) and surtalogi vs the shade of void (?).

not sure if there's a connection between each of the sumeru akademiya's cardinal sins and the pygmies since they're also six but they seem like sins commited by khaenri'ah either way:

"revering gods without acts of devotion" caught my attention because khaenri'ah is supposed to be a godless nation yet we see hilichurls around the thousand wind temple while also having banners with istaroth's symbol in their camps, as if they followed istaroth somehow. i have my thoughts about some of the other sins (like the human evolution one), istaroth being connected to khaenri'ah, her theorised identity as a moon sister and her possible ties to this book as the pale princess but i think i'll leave that to another day. i'm very sure other people made the connection between the pygmies and the sinners too, i am probably very late to the party but i just wanted to add my two cents on it and make a post with my current ideas on the identities of hroptatyr and vderfolnir. don't trust me, though!! the pygmy isn't the only fool, i'm just having fun thinking these possibilities. thanks for reading, if you did ahah

edit (23/08/24): i never came back to this post but i realised the identities can be easier to infer without speculation, since the names are clearly the opposite of their desires. the pygmy who wanted to see makes sense to be vedrfolnir, the visionary - blind pygmy. the foolish pygmy, the one who wanted to become smart is obviously hroptatyr (and here pierro makes a lot more sense, i know some people theorised pierro to be hroptatyr). the pygmy who wanted courage makes sense to be the timid pygmy, possibly rerir. rhinedottir is without doubt the shrunken pygmy which leaves us with surtalogi being the carefree pygmy. the carefree pygmy much like the deformed pygmy don't really have any desires, but the title "the foul" contrasts carefree really well. wanted to reiterate this since people keep relogging this post. i didn't really go to deep into the sinners either though i will leave here that the name khaenri'ah is possibly derived from an arabic phrase meaning "betrayer of winds" (خائن رياح) and the pygmies betrayed the pale princess and the light prince (represents the sun and gold - end goal of magnum opus) in the book. which leads us to istaroth, "the thousand winds of time". i said i wasn't going to go into it but i cannot stop myself from saying this because i wasn't clear earlier and i feel like this is cool. okay, bye!!

[shorimochi]

LiuJiu Palace AU

Liu Qingge’s ears perked up as soon as he spotted the familiar figure behind the peach tree, who was obviously trying to avoid him. “Fight me, Shen Qingqiu!”

Shen Qingqiu clicked his tongue. He took out his book and hid his face behind it. “Don’t you have better things to do, stupid brute?”

Liu Qingge jumped over the small lotus pond. “Nobody can fight like you.”

“Tsk. Didn't you call me a cheater last time?”

Liu Qingge's face turned red. “That was… I apologize. My grandfather has since then taught me that tactics and strength go hand in hand in all battles and wars.”

He had just been accepted into the special troop responsible to protect the emperor and his family. Yet, in front of Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge still felt inadequate. Even though he participated in the entrance test just like everyone else, a lot of the palace officials still thought he merely passed because he was General Liu's favorite grandson.

While practicing his martial arts, Liu Qingge had accidentally stumbled upon Shen Qingqiu, who happened to be hiding from several angry servants. Shen Qingqiu claimed the servants were mad because he had taken some writing tools that were reserved for high-ranked nobles. When Liu Qingge demanded that he return those tools, Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes and said the good brushes and ink would be wasted on fools with no reading comprehension.

They fought. Liu Qingge lost, because he underestimated the scholar. He thought Shen Qingqiu with his dainty fingers and pale skin wouldn't be able to fight, but Shen Qingqiu proved to be as proficient in swords as he was with brushes.

Since then, Liu Qingge had been visiting the courtyard daily to challenge Shen Qingqiu. The young man was always strangely alone, never seen with other scholars or officials. Even though Shen Qingqiu said he was nothing more than a lowly scholar, Liu Qingge often found him in places quite close to the emperor's quarters.

He couldn't possibly dare to wander around such areas, if he was just a normal person. Though… whatever his status was, didn't really matter to Liu Qingge. The only thing that mattered was that he was Shen Qingqiu.

“How about you visit my house?” Liu Qingge suggested as he sat next to Shen Qingqiu beside the peach tree.

Shen Qingqiu fell silent.

“We have plum trees. The fruits are really sweet,” Liu Qingge added.

He recalled that Shen Qingqiu really liked sweets. He liked the pastries that Liu Qingge brought last time too.

Shen Qingqiu bit his lip. “I can't leave.”

Liu Qingge frowned. “Why can't you-”

“Consort Shen!”

A group of servants came running towards them. Liu Qingge froze.

Consort?

He quickly looked at Shen Qingqiu, who appeared paler than usual.

“Here you are, Consort Shen. Minister Qiu has been looking for you,” the servant said.

Minister Qiu. Ah. Didn't his grandfather complain about this particular minister last time?

He was the minister who practically sold his cousin as a concubine to the emperor in exchange for more power. General Liu was against it, as Minister Qiu’s cousin was a talented scholar who placed first in the exam. However, the emperor had long desired the scholar’s beauty and forced him to retire from his position to be a concubine.

Liu Qingge suddenly felt his heart sink. He thought it didn't matter what Shen Qingqiu’s position was.

Now it occurred to him… that it mattered. A lot. Because he was in love with Shen Qingqiu.

[bucketofminnow]

my mclive liveblog

everything they show for minecraft vanilla is coming out within the next few months (halloween update?)

can we skip everything about the minecraft movie i could not care less about it lol

they continue to plan to drop smaller, more frequent updates rather than one big, yearly update

"later in the show we will show you a new biome with its own mood"

theyre adding hardcore mode and bundles to bedrock!

villager news segment hinting at the new mob! "do you hear that? the creaking"

[about the movie] "all with the goal of authentically capturing the spirit of minecraft" apparently they chose to do live action because they wanted to do something different to what's popular in fan spaces. the youtube live chat is straight "L's" right now. they're showing a scene from the movie. i'm not a fan of this jack black steve that is NOT my steve!

"we had to honor what you experience in the game but also make it work for human scale" "[craft an experience] in a way that's fresh and new but still authentic to the spirit of the game"

villager rescue, our first real world immersive experience. the premise of minecraft experience is authenticity, defining a new lens from which you can interact with the game. it's a story about a village being attacked by zombies and it's your quest to go out and save them. there are interactive screens throughout the game. "this is an experience where you can feel, see and hear what it's like to be in minecraft". that sounds pretty cool

"there is something lurking in the shadows, the creaking". it's a tree-like creature camoflauging in the darkness. there's a special new block that it has a connection to. it doesn't take any damage, and when you hit it, there are particles that point to the creaking heart in the trees, which is how you damage it

"the creaking doesn't exist on its own, it's more of like a puppet of the new block, the creaking heart. it comes with a new combat challenge or mechanic, you need to destroy the heart block to kill the puppet, and the creaking only moves when you look away."

you can obtain the heart with silk touch and place it where you want!

the new trees in the pale garden are pale oak!

the new pale moss carpet spreads on all sides of the blocks!

"we wanted to go for a look that was more eerie than spookie, we didn't want it to be terrifying but we wanted players to feel something was wrong." the pale garden's likeness to dark oak forests is purposeful. also, even the sky is gray in this biome!

you can kill the creaking in creative mode

"when it's connected to the creaking heart, it's invulnerable, it's conected to the tree roots"

the puppet disappears when you pick up the heart with silk touch. the heart seems to spawn in the center of the pale oak trees. "not only are they linked but they have a perimeter they have to stay in"

also, in case anyone missed it, they announced a bit ago (not during mc live) that they're removing the mob vote—on one hand, yay less intercommunity murder, on the other hand, now we won't be able to vote out golems

pale oak doors are gorgeous!

the (hanging?) pale moss has a random configuration for variety

"this was your idea about how to use the creaking to protect yourself and your village" you can only have the creaking heart work when it's night, between two pale wood blocks (top and bottom), and they have to be aligned the same direction as the heart. so there are contraptions you can make to spawn a creaking puppet at night to "protect" the village—although it doesn't seem to attack mobs, so i don't think it will actually be able to protect you.

once the heart is activated, you have to destroy it, as it won't deactivate if you destroy the blocks around it.

we'll be able to play with the new stuff in snapshots "very soon"

[sidekick-hero]

My heart's desire: you

(steddie | 1.7k | mature | written for @steddie-week day 3: holding me by Warlock | AO3)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 04, Eddie Munson as Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons), Monster Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug

Eddie never expected much from life, if he was honest.

Sure, once upon a time he had dreams. Big ones. Go to LA, become a rock star, leave this shithole of a town behind. Find his people, a place where he belonged. Not a freak, but someone worthy.

Deep down he didn't really believe they would come true - not for people like him - but it was nice to have them. They helped him fall asleep at night and even more to get up in the morning.

All those dreams bit the dust when he did. The dead don't dream, right?

Right.

It's just that he's not exactly dead. But he's not alive either. So what does that mean for his dreams?

He doesn't sleep anymore. Doesn't need to. Sometimes he manages to drift, his body completely still while his mind is somewhere else.

But when that happens, he's not dreaming. He just remembers.

Remembers his mama and how she used to dance around the house with him to Elvis or Roy Orbison. Blue Bayou was her favorite.

Remembers his father's pale face as he left Eddie behind, running from the law while Eddie stayed behind to take the fall, just because he couldn't let a cop bleed to death because of his father's schemes.

Remembers Wayne, his gruff voice and warm hugs. His unconditional love and unwavering support. The one person who always believed in him, who gave him a home and a family when Eddie had nothing.

Remembers practicing his songs with the boys and endless afternoons filled with music and campaigns and laughter. His own little corner of the world where he was free to be himself, loud and unapologetic.

Remembers Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica. Red and Buckley and Wheeler. Their fierce determination, their selflessness, their love for one another. He had been helpless but to join them, even when everything inside him screamed to run, to hide, to never look back.

Most of the time, though, he remembers Steve. Which should be weird, since they only spent a week together, him running from an angry mob, Steve helping him while also trying to save the world. Sure, he remembers the looks they shared, the touches, the pet names, and the flirting. But it was stolen time, stolen moments without real substance - the reckless abundance of someone who never expected to make it out alive.

He didn't. And yet here he stands, hidden among the trees surrounding the Harrington estate, watching Steve through the windows of his kitchen as he makes himself a sandwich.

It's not the first night he's spent like this, and it won't be the last.

Ever since he clawed his way out of the Upside Down, he's been watching over them. His friends, he thinks. They had been his friends. When he was still human. Can you still have friends when you're not alive, or are they like dreams, out of reach when your skin grows cold and your lungs stop breathing?

He doesn't know. All he knows is that when he came back different, wrong, he still had his memories. He remembers the love and affection he once had for them. That's why he watches over them, he tells himself. Because he had loved them once.

A few months ago, when the portals to the Upside Down were wide open, everyone had gathered here at Steve's, so Eddie had been there, too. Not inside the house, of course, but watching. Guarding it.

Not being alive makes him almost invincible. He has claws on his hands and fangs in his mouth. He's faster and stronger than ever. Any monster that tried to sneak up on them was killed in seconds, a few minutes at most. Soon they didn't even try anymore.

It's as if they somehow know that Eddie is the strongest predator around, and that these humans are his.

They defeated Vecna in the end, closing the gates once and for all.

And Eddie is still here. Still not alive.

Still watching over Steve, with the full moon above him and the warm late summer wind blowing through his hair. The clouds covering the moon provide enough cover for him to come closer, still hidden in the darkness as he continues to watch.

Time feels strange sometimes, but he thinks he has been watching Steve for as long as he can remember.

A lonely boy with strawberry blond hair, waiting to be picked up from preschool long after everyone else has left. A gangly teenager on his first day of middle school, looking lost and alone again. The same boy, taller now, finally filling out his form, sun-kissed skin and windswept hair. Popular, attractive, but still lonely deep inside.

The Eddie he had once been had been intrigued by Steve Harrington. The boy had been an enigma, even more so when Dustin and Lucas, and sometimes even Mike, sang his praises as if he were their greatest hero. And then he had seen again and again how badass Steve was, how brave and self-sacrificing. How much he was willing to give for the people he considered his own.

Back when his heart was still beating, it had been beating for Steve. Can you still love someone when your heart is no longer beating?

Eddie doesn't have an answer to that question. All he knows is that the sight of Steve brings a warmth he can almost feel, a flicker of something that might have been hope if he still had the capacity for it. And for now, that flicker is enough to keep him watching, night after night, hidden in the shadows.

Tonight, however, something feels different. Eddie watches as Steve steps out of the kitchen, his eyes scanning the darkness, almost as if he senses a presence. Eddie tenses, ready to retreat further into the shadows, but something holds him back.

Steve takes a few hesitant steps towards the edge of the property, his gaze unwavering. "I know you're out there," he calls softly, his voice carrying a blend of fear and determination. "I don't know who or what you are, but I know you're watching."

Eddie's breath catches—or it would have, if he still breathed. He remains still, his eyes fixed on Steve, who continues to inch closer. The moonlight breaks through the clouds, casting a silver glow over the yard, and Steve's eyes widen as they meet Eddie's.

"Eddie?" Steve whispers, disbelief and something else, something Eddie can’t place, coloring his tone. "Is that really you?"

For a moment, Eddie considers fleeing. Every fiber of his being screams at him to retreat into the safety of the shadows. To hide his monstrous self. But the look in Steve's eyes, the raw mixture of hope and sorrow, roots him to the spot. He steps forward, emerging from the shadows, his form illuminated by the moonlight. "Hello, Steve," he replies, his voice rough from disuse. "I'm... different now, so you be the judge if it's still me."

Steve stares, taking in Eddie's altered appearance—the fangs, the claws, the otherworldly aura. Yet, despite the changes, there's something unmistakably Eddie in his eyes. "How?" Steve asks, his voice breaking. "How is this possible?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I don't know. I woke up in the Upside Down after you all left, not alive but not dead either and clawed my way outta there. I've been watching over you, all of you, ever since."

Steve takes another step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively. "But… Why didn't you come to us? We thought you were gone. I - We missed you. Dustin -"

"I didn't know if you'd accept me like this," Eddie admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not the same person I was. I’m a monster now."

Steve's hand finally makes contact with Eddie's arm, and the touch sends a jolt through both of them. Eddie's skin, cold and unfeeling for so long, seems to come alive under Steve's touch. The sensation is overwhelming, flooding him with emotions he thought he'd lost. "You're still Eddie," Steve says firmly. "And that's all that matters."

For the first time since his transformation, Eddie feels something akin to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he can find a new place in this world, even in his altered state. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to watch from the shadows anymore.

As they stand there, bathed in moonlight and the warmth of newfound connection, Eddie allows himself to believe that he can still be part of something, that he can still matter. And for the first time in a long time, he feels a glimmer of peace.

But more than peace, he feels a longing, a deep-seated yearning that he can no longer ignore. The way Steve looks at him, with such trust and acceptance, stirs something inside Eddie that he thought was long dead. He realizes that he's not just watching over Steve out of a sense of duty or lost affection; he's watching because he still loves him, with a love that doesn’t need a beating heart to stay alive.

"Eddie," Steve whispers again, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion that Eddie can't quite name but feels deep in his bones. "Stay with me. Don't disappear again."

Eddie's heart, or whatever remains of it, aches at Steve's words. He wants nothing more than to stay, to be close to Steve, to feel that warmth he's been yearning for. He’s been so cold for so long. "I'll stay," Eddie promises, his voice trembling with emotion. "For as long as you'll have me."

Steve's eyes shine with unshed tears as he pulls Eddie into a hug, their bodies fitting together as if they were always meant to. In that embrace, Eddie feels more alive than he has since he died.

And so, under the silver light of the moon, Eddie and Steve stand together, holding onto each other with a love that defies the boundaries of life and death. For the first time, Eddie dares to believe in a future where he doesn't have to hide in the shadows, where he can be with the person he loves, and where he can finally find a place to belong.

As long as Steve is willing to hold him like that, he doesn't need to be alive. All he needs is to be here in Steve’s arms.

[pamwritessometimes]

Roots in my dreamland

Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, mentions of being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

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The wind howled through the towering trees, winter’s chill clinging to the air as Dean wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure why he kept on going on this path. There were no signs of danger, no clear trail to follow, yet something kept dragging him in. It felt ancient here, in this part of the forest, like time itself was buried in these moss-covered grounds.

The reports of strange occurrences in the area had led him here in the first place: people disappearing, then reappearing with no memory of where they’d been. Dean had taken it as another case, another monster to hunt… but what he found instead was something he didn’t understand, and certainly something he couldn’t really fight.

He had found her.

His steps slowed as he reached the edge of a small clearing. The pale light of the crescent moon covered everything in a soft, silvery glow, casting shadows on the ice frozen ground. And there she was, standing just beyond the oak trees, her figure nearly blending into the darkness of the brusque, winter night.

She looked at him as if she’d been waiting.

She always did.

Dean didn’t know her name. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what she was. Her skin glimmered, like the moonlight itself was part of her, and her eyes – deep and dark, just like the forest itself – held some sort of timelessness in them. Every time he saw her, he felt like something inside him was growing, something he couldn’t quite control.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he asked, his voice rough, soaked in frustration. “Every time I get close to leaving this place behind, I—” He broke off, his mind going momentarily frigid in the air. “I come back.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly as she took a cautious step toward him with her bare feet leaving no mark in the snow. She was now close enough that he could feel the soft glow of her skin radiating off her eternal warmness and the unusual flowers threaded in her locks. “Maybe it’s because you belong here more than you think.”

Dean’s chest tightened. Belong? He didn’t belong anywhere, least of all here in this strange, enchanted place. But he couldn’t deny that every time he saw her, a part of him felt like it was coming home.

“You need to let me go” he whispered, though his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost sad. “You can’t fight what’s already growing inside you.” she said quietly. Her hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek. The warmth of her touch like fire beneath his skin.

Dean stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “What is this?” he rasped with eyes wide, his hand instinctively catching hers, holding it against his face. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Why can’t I…?”

She smiled softly, but there was an edge of sorrow in her eyes. “You’ve planted your roots here” she whispered. “And so have I.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to believe that he was tied to this place — to her — but the truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. And he had his fair share of experience with those. Every time he tried to walk away, she pulled him back, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to break free.

“I– I can’t stay here. This…” He gestured to the forest around them, then to her. “This isn’t me.”

“I know.” she said simply. But she didn’t move away. She stood there, her eyes searching his, like she was waiting for him to make a choice he didn’t know how to make. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the people he was supposed to be saving. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep coming back. And yet…

“I don’t want to leave..” he admitted, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I can’t.”

She leaned into him then, her body soft and warm against his. Her fingers traced the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “Then don’t” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. He groaned, the weight of everything crashing over him at once. His responsibilities, the danger, the distance between their worlds (whatever her world was in the first place), none of it mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was her.

“I’m already in too deep” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’re in my head, in my damn dreams. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop coming back right here. To you. I can’t keep my distance from you.”

“I know” she said, her lips ghosting over his. “I feel it too.”

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his mouth was on hers, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm and so right, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about the consequences. Only the ethereal feeling of her silky skin against the palm of his hand and the velvet of her lips. She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in his hair as they stumbled back, their bodies melding together. He could feel the heat rising between them, the fire building in his chest as he lost himself in her…completely, utterly, involuntarily lost. 

They sank to the icy forest floor, the snowy moss cool beneath them as they tumbled into each other’s arms. Though, somehow, Dean didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel his skin being affected by winter’s brusque. Her hands trailed patterns over him, her touch so incredibly soft, almost like a ghost, but it magically made his body immune to the weather. He responded with equal vehemence, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting the woodsy warmth of her skin.

“Dean” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, but there was something else there too, something fragile, like she was holding back. “You need to–”

“No” he cut her off, his voice rough. “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to leave.”

Dean’s movements stilled, her words slicing through his hazy state of desire. She was right. He would have to leave. This, whatever the hell this was, couldn’t last. He didn’t belong in her world, and she didn’t belong in his.

But for now, he didn’t care.

“For tonight” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers, “Just– please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and after a long moment, she nodded as a sign of her silent agreement. They moved together again, slower this time, like they were savoring every moment, every touch, every warm glow of her hand on his skin. The world outside the forest faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the soft gleam of moonlight, the ancient trees standing tall silent around them.

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Dean kissed her lips slowly, his mind completely fogged by need. He didn’t know her, didn’t understand exactly what she was, but none of that mattered now. Not in this moment. Not when every part of him was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Just for tonight, he let himself get lost in her. His hands found their way to her soft, leaf-woven dress, fingers trailing along the strange fabric that did a sinfully poor job at hiding her curves. As he slid his hands down her waist, her lips parted in a heavenly moan, a testament of her sharing the same need as him. His fingers traced slow and purposeful patterns along her upper thigh, teasing her skin beneath the hem of her skirt (or whatever magical leaf-dress she was wearing). Their breath met halfway as she arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her otherworldly pulse beneath his lips. 

He leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around the pair. “I want you” he murmured. He really did. He had no idea how, why or who, to be frank, but he craved her.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to look into his emerald green orbs. It was just like the forest.  “Then take me” she whispered back.

With a slow movement, he pressed her back against the soft, icy moss. The world around them slowly faded as he kissed her again. Deeper this time… pouring all his desire into the action, savoring the taste of her lips, and the way her celestial presence made him feel. His hands explored her body, making it his goal to commit every little line to memory. He wanted to remember this. Her hands slid under his shirt, warm fingers dancing over his skin, fueling the fire in him. He could feel her heat radiating against him and he responded to that by deepening the kiss, wanting to wipe everything out of his memory, except for this.

His fingers were still under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer to her honey-soaked pussy. As he finally met her heat, she gasped, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, her body arching against him as an encouragement for him to continue. 

Dean met her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he saw none. He slowly slid his fingers deeper, feeling her sweet cunt envelop him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a low moan escaped her lips as he began to move his middle finger in and out. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he couldn’t help but murmur a breathless “You're incredible. So incredibly beautiful. So wet for me already.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he felt her walls clench around him, and eventually he found a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the forest around them. 

“Dean” she moaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”

Amidst hearing that, he captured her lips again, pouring every drop of his need into the kiss. 

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His own need had reached a fever pitch. His fingers slowly slipped out of her core, which earned a whine from her parted lips. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers worked at the button of his jeans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She was more than happy to help him, her hands quick and eager as she pushed his jeans down over his hips, his painfully hard length springing free from its confinements. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, not a single thing between them now.

Dean’s hand slid up her thigh, guiding himself to her pussy, and he hesitated for a brief second, meeting her gaze again. Again, there was no doubt in her eyes, only a quiet plea for him to close the distance between them finally. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her sloppy heat a few times before he finally began to ease himself in. He pushed into her slowly, inch by incredible inch, savoring the feel of her cunt hugging him so snug. The soft gasp that escaped her lips as he filled her  was enough to make his cock twitch inside of her. She was tight, and oh, so warm, and every inch of him ached with the need to move, but he forced himself to go slow, to feel every moment, every convulsion of her pussy.

Her hands gripped his back, nails biting into his skin as her hips rose to meet him, her body urging him deeper and deeper – despite his effort to stay calm just for a moment. The feeling of her wrapped around him was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting into her once more, harder this time, losing himself in the way she moved beneath him.

She moaned his name, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Dean’s pace quickened, his hips moving in time with hers, each thrust deeper, harder, rougher. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips finding his again as they moved together, the rhythm growing faster, more urgent. Every sound she made, every arch of her back, every gasp and moan spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge.

Dean’s hand slipped between them, finding her clit, and the moment he touched her there, she cried out, her body trembling underneath him as her release hit her, hard and fast.

“Dean, oh my— i’m going to—” and with that, her walls clenched around him, gushing all over his length. Threatening to slip out of her, because of the force of her release, he thrusted himself deeper. And then, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t—” and with a low groan, he followed her over the edge, his muscles tensing as his hot, white seed filled her, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to make his orgasm last as long as it is possible. 

For a long-long moment, neither of them dared to mov. Their bodies tangled together, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they came down from their highs. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses as they lay there, utterly spent.

They lay together in the quiet of the clearing, the warmth of their bodies cutting through the chilly air. Dean stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. His heart was still racing, his mind already starting to spin with what would come next. He still had no idea who she was. He still didn’t know if she was the one behind all those strange happenings around the area. 

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Then reality crept back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean blinked, once, twice, his body stiffening. The warmth that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by the biting cold of the winter air. He lifted his head, eyes squinting in confusion as his surroundings snapped back into focus. The enchanted glow, the surreal energy of the forest… all gone. Just the regular, old clearing. And there, standing at the edge of it, was Sam, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Dude” Sam started, his voice incredulous, “why the hell are you naked? It’s the middle of winter.”

Dean frowned, slowly realizing his current state. He glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was sprawled out on the cold, snowy moss, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. The warmth of her body and everything that had felt so real was now a distant memory. And yet… he swore it had happened.

“I…” Dean sat up, quickly gathering his clothes from the ground and putting them on, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. “I was, uh… investigating.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Investigating? Naked? In the freezing cold?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick, because I’ve been looking for you for an hour, man” Sam grumbled. “What happened? You were supposed to check out the weird stuff going on, not have some naked winter party.”

Dean’s gaze darted around the clearing. She was nowhere to be found, no sign of her leaf-woven dress, her touch, not even a trace of her pinewood scent. It was like she had never been there. The forest felt… ordinary now. The magic, the connection… they all seemed to have vanished with her.

“I’m not sure” Dean admitted, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs, the chill sinking into his bones now that reality was firmly back in place. “There was this… girl. I think.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe?”

“Girl?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up even higher.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while now… She was—” Dean gestured vaguely, trying to put words to what had just happened, but it felt harder and harder to grasp the details. “She was real, I think. Or… maybe she wasn’t. She could’ve been some kind of forest spirit. Or maybe I hit my head?” He shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “So you’re saying you’ve been seeing a girl, possibly not real, and decided to strip naked in the middle of the forest when you saw her once more?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, his frown deepening. “Okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“It is weird, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, motioning around them. “Do you see anyone else here? Anyone at all?”

Dean looked around the clearing again, trying to find any trace of her. There was nothing, just the trees, the snow, and the silent forest. No footprints, no clothes, no evidence that anyone other than him had been there at all. And yet, he could still feel her, the way her body had moved against his, the way her voice had whispered his name in the quiet of the night.

“I swear, it was real” Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I felt it.”

Sam sighed, getting Dean’s jacket from the ground and tossing it to him. “Whatever you felt, we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. We’ll figure it out later.”

Dean caught the jacket, wrapping it around himself with a huff. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, or if anything had happened at all, but there was still an ache in his chest, a feeling like he’d left something behind in that clearing. Or maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe the forest had cast some kind of spell on him, drawing him into some half-dream state where reality and fantasy blurred together. He wasn’t sure anymore. Was he— was he one of those victims he read about? But why does he remember it then? 

As he followed Sam out of the clearing, Dean glanced back one last time. The trees stood tall and silent, like keeping the secret of the girl’s presence. There was no sign of her. No shimmering figure stepping from the shadows, no soft voice calling him back.

But for just a second, he thought he saw something. — a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a faint, glowing shimmer in the air.

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe… just maybe… she'd been real after all.

Sam glanced over at him, frowning. “Dean, you okay? You look… weird.”

Dean smirked, pulling the jacket tighter around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wondering if I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

Sam groaned. “Probably. Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes before you start hallucinating snow fairy porn again.”

Dean chuckled, though his mind lingered on the thought. Snow fairies, huh? He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder — had it been real? Or had it just been a fever dream? He’d never know for sure. But either way… he wasn’t complaining.

"Next time, though" he muttered under his breath, "I’m bringing a blanket."

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Don’t even get me started. The crack fic muse made me do it. Not that I mind.🤭

Let me know what you think.

And have a nice day!🤍

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi, hello, are you taking writing requests? 🥺 do you think you could write something with Haru? I don't really have anything in mind, so it can be whatever you feel like, fluff, yandere or smut (as long as it doesnt have a sad ending lol) (｡>﹏<｡) I'm desperate for some Haru stuff and I love your writing so much!!!

Be careful with snakes!

Haru had the nicest dream/hallucination after being bitten by a snake.

Wc: 1,9k

Notes: I wanted to follow the future family idea we had going on but it didn't end up being as much of a future as it was his inner wishes. But it's cute! Haru just wants a calm and domestic life here.

This took longer than I expected... ndjdj

Chillingly cold winds awaken Haru roughly, seeping through the white cotton button down and hitting his pale skin causing goosebumps. Opening his eyes just enough to see sunlight above him almost completely obscured by the leafy treetops, he comes with the most likely possibility.

“Did I pass out again?” Haru scratches the nape of his neck, he was using his stigma pretty frequently lately and he might have skipped dinner and breakfast before using it today but it was unlikely that he passed out just because he was low on glucose, he has used it in worse condition and came out pretty alive!

Even then, he guesses it's better to cut possible losses short, drag himself to the dorm and do some damage control with the anomalies because it's very unlikely that Towa or Ren suddenly got the calling to help around for once.

Looking around, what does feel unsettling even if just a second is how different the forest area looks compared to the last time he scouted the area. The terrain uncharacteristically steep compared to the usually plain jabberwock and the weirdly vast amount of fir and spruce when most of the trees were oak or anomalous species. 

Regardless, he brushes off whatever worry he could conceive. It isn't abnormal for Jabberwock to experiment sudden changes to account for new anomalies entering and leaving it, that could easily explain the trees and plants and the geography, while harder to change, it's still possible.

What was more concerning was his overall disorientation, if he could get to his dorm that would be great, did he walk towards or against the sun? He doesn't even remember how he managed to get himself here.

While looking down at the dry and rocky dirt trying to find footsteps a familiar voice presents itself as a better clue.

“Hey, stop it, be nice” the familiar childish reproach that you would tell to the miniature rams when they fought for territory, even when he explained they were totally grown and it was normal for them to fight, reaches his ears and he lets out a sigh in relief, he could at least trust in you to take care of some anomalies even if just for a little while.

As much as he loves his housemates he can't lie and say they are good at anomalously animals husbandry, Towa is quite a ditz and forgets feeding times and what each anomaly can eat -and tends to electrocute them but he doesn't know that- and Ren refuses to work around aquatic areas and if forced to he will audibly whine while doing it.

Still, knowing that you didn't have any real powers to protect yourself if any of the anomalies got rowdy, he decides to slide down the face of the mountain to where your voice is, maybe you will be able to guide him back to the dorm or explain to him what was happening. Sadly, he has to slide normally down the vertiginous terrain without using bahnti, it wouldn't be helpful to black out again and the heaviness settled in his head didn't give him a positive outlook. 

Angling down his foot just right and working along gravity, Haru starts surfing down a wave of dirt and rocks while dodging the branches and stumps on the way down the slope and soon enough reaches the foot of the mountain with slightly dirty clothes.

At the foot there is a small area blending the sharp and angular mountain range and a somewhat plain surface spotting a cozy cabin. Around it there was a grown up Peekaboo and a log thrown in the dirt, where you were seated holding a white fluff. 

That was Peekaboo! How did he not notice he wasn't in his baby carrier?! His hand lingers on his abdomen but he doesn't feel the fabric of the carrier, it must have fallen off and you found his little one.

“Natsu, you can't hurry how fast Pukaboo eats, he will get a tummy ache otherwise” you tell calmly but firmly to someone behind you. As Haru walks closer he sees a redheaded kid no older than 4 hanging from the same arm holding the bottle.

After walking a few meters away from the thickest part of the forest he seems to have caught your attention finally, if the way your head snapped up is anything to go by. With a smile on your lips you usher the kid away.

“There is your papa, why don't you help him feed peekaboo” and in 2  seconds a kid smashes face first against his abdomen and pulls him towards the big white fluff. As it unrolls from the furry sphere, it seems to perk up when it sees him, nudging its head against his leg. As he went to pet it the child pulled his hand back.

“Don’t pet him, papa, Peekaboo ate my chia pet! I hate him now” at the harsh words the creature whimpers, offended. His Peekaboo does make a habit of eating wild plants whenever Haru isn't monitoring his playtime but this is obviously a grown up of the same species, not a little baby.

“Peekaboo? But this little dude is huge! Peekaboo is small enough to carry” he laughs while scratching his neck. 

“Hm? Silly papa, Pukaboo is the tiny one, Peekaboo always was biggg” and almost to make a point the child extends his arms wide on the last word. The grown Peekaboo, supposedly his Peekaboo, keeps looking at him expectantly and tilts his fluffy head in just the same angle his baby would when begging for treats or scratches.

“Natsu, how do you intend to feed peekaboo without food? Go inside and get your dad the lettuce, it's in the kitchen sink” now finished feeding what Haru thought was his peekaboo you started walking towards them with the cub in your arms. 

Natsu slides away, a smile splitting his face in two, such a helpful kid, Haru can't help but think that he almost wishes Ren was as eager to help as him.

Watching as the cub is put down next to its father  and how quickly it hurries under his fur to hide from the cold and, without thinking about it, Haru laughs loudly. Even if anomalies weren't pets he himself admitted they were particularly cute when the temperature starts to drop. And they start being less aggressive and bite-y.

“Just like Natsu when he was a baby, don't you think? He would usually fight with Pukaboo to see who snuggled under your arm” in a friendly gesture your elbow him but soon your playful tone turns sober, and your eyes darken with worry “did something happen? You left before breakfast without even leaving a note” 

He stays uncharacteristically quiet, what could he even say? He doesn't even remember why he was out and about in the first place but you seem to have taken his silence as bad news.

“Did the new specimen not adapt well to here?”

“Ah, it's not that!”

With a sigh of relief you giggle “Did the director try to get you to act like a forest ranger for the normal part of the park? He never learns, huh?” linking your arms you start dragging him to the cabin, speaking lightheartedly about what he would like to eat, how you fed the anomalies or how fast Pukaboo and Natsu are growing.

Allowing himself to be dragged inside, into the welcoming warmth emanating from the fireplace and his family, the heavy knots tied inside his muscles relax feeling belonging in the little cozy home.

Hanging by the small foyer, you urge him to take off his muddied mountain boots to not drag dirt inside and he compiles without a word, sliding with his white socks on the hardwood floors.

“Daaaaad, can you help me open this?” the little redhead approaches him jumping with a little tin can on his hands but you snatch it.

“You can't eat sweets before lunch”

“But dad always eats gummies before leaving” 

“Those are collagen gummies for his joints, not sweet ones” The kid pouts and runs off to his room, in response you only roll your eyes and return the treat to the kitchen cabinets “you need to eat something. There is toast, some cereal…”

“Cereal is good” it isn't often that he gets hounded to take care of himself, Elias would sometimes tell him off for overexerting himself or peel him apples whenever he inevitably ended up in the infirmary, but the fuzzy tingling in his chest at being taken cared of by someone else tickles a part of his brain so nicely. 

Allowing himself to be swayed by the arm pulling him into your arms and down to the sofa, he feels coddled like a sick little child.

A hand rakes his hair while both of you look at the empty wall in front of the sofa until a tiny bit squeaky voice whines.

“Hey! Don't cuddle without me!” your kid's voice whines as he throws himself at his dad's stomach, attempting to burrow between his parents and almost making the bowl slip from Haru's hands.

“Be careful! You are going to make a mess with the milk!” Even as you chastise him you still throw an end of the blanket over his head, encouraging him to burrow further and you yourself lay your head on Haru's, making a sort of cocoon with hugs and blankets.

Your warm breath as you laugh fans against his skin causing goosebumps but he leans against you, cheek resting against your collarbone and his ear just snug enough against your skin to catch the heartbeat lying under it. 

“Haru?” You ask him and he lets out an acknowledging hum but you don't relent “Haru? Haru, Haru?”

With each repetition of his name it almost feels like you are getting further and further away from him. It isn't like he would be able to check, his eyelids suddenly weighted down like concrete. Being unable to open his eyes makes Haru notice how the rest of his body is also too heavy to move even one inch.

A heavy hand grasps his forearm, turning it around to show the inner side and pricks the skin to inject something making him progressively harder to hang onto his consciousness. A string of tiny whispers reaches his ears.

“He still doesn't wake up” 

“If you account for his less than optimal sleep schedule and the hyperpyrexia from the venom it isn't weird he is still out. Why don't you return to class?” 

“Are you sure? I would like to see him wake up before leaving though” 

“Luckily you brought him soon enough but he still needs to rest” 

 The sun is settling down the horizon when Haru wakes up for good, no more fog clouding his mind and his muscles working as he intends. He is able to sit up before a mortkraken student notices he is awake. 

“Oh, good, you are finally up”

“Did something happen?”

“seems like one of the snake like anomalies bit you” her eyes screen a piece of paper Haru guesses is his medical record. He does remember having to feed the tsuchinoko hatchlings, it is likely that one of them grew its fangs and bit his ankle without him noticing.

“Even if you are a ghoul you should take care of yourself, you know”

Without paying her much mind he says but gets brushed off “I had such a weird dream”

“The venom or the fever might have made you hallucinate, was it at least a nice dream?”

"very nice"  

[zafirosreverie]

Their favorite thing about you (DLH)

Ares:

Your eyes.

He loves your eyes, because that's how he met you. You were just one more small human of the thousands who came to ask for his intervention, one more and that's it. At first glance you didn't have anything special and a god shouldn't be attracted to you the way Ares was.

But no other god had seen what he saw in your eyes (or else a war would have been fought on Olympus for you by now). It wasn't just the beautiful color of your orbs, but the way they glowed with intense passion, deep rage, and endless bravery, that finally made the god of war fall for you. Even today, so many years later, Ares loves looking into your eyes, where there is still an intense fire that he knows will never fade.

Athena:

Your curiosity.

The goddess was used to receiving thousands of questions and pleas for help from mortals, who in these more modern days used to come to her only as a kind of living encyclopedia.

But you didn't. In fact, she had never even seen you set foot in her temple before. You were a completely different creature, full of curiosity about all the creation of the world, everything was fascinating to you, and she loved your questions, especially the simple ones, because they didn't come from a need beyond the simple fact of wanting to learn. It was something the world needed, and she was willing to protect you for it.

Arce:

Your patience.

She knew, she was more than aware, that she was not the best partner, especially for a mortal like you. She carried too many wounds, from a time when humanity didn't even exist, wounds that even other immortal beings didn't want to deal with.

But you do. You had opened for her not only the doors of your house, but of your life, you had welcomed her and accompanied her, you had taken care of her and, for the first time in centuries, she thought that perhaps healing was coming her way. Arce didn't want to exhaust you, after all, the wounds of a being like her were too big and heavy for a mortal, but your infinite patience gave her hope that you would at least stay with her for as long as your finite lifetime allowed you.

Demeter:

Your laughter.

She is the goddess of the harvest, she creates life wherever she goes. Strong and imposing trees, flowers more beautiful than the stars, unique and precious plants. But all that, paled and remained small before the perfection that was your laugh.

Demeter loved that sound, he loved the way your eyes and nose crinkled, how you showed your perfect teeth, how your stomach bounced slightly with the force of your joy. It was the sound of life, and she swore to protect it until time took it to infinity and the silence of death replaced it.

Hestia:

Your nose.

Listen, she's a simple goddess, okay? Does she like something? It's hers, period. And that goes for your beautiful and perfect nose too. Don't ask why of all your beautiful face that's her favorite part, just accept that you're going to have a very amused goddess pressing it like a little round button at all hours.

Hestia also loves your brilliance and sense of humor, which usually helps enhance her blackmailing pranks on the other gods, but that's another story.

Hades:

Your hands.

Hades loved your hands, not just because of how beautiful they were or how soft your skin was, but because of everything they represented to him. He was the god of death, he was used to ending things, destroying them, reducing them to nothing. But you? you created, you used your hands to bring new objects and ideas to life, you were the opposite of him and that never ceased to amaze him.

He loved your touches too, of course. He was used to the tedious humid heat of the underworld, the kind that is terribly unbearable, that makes you sweat and your clothes stick to your body. But you had shown him another kind of warmth, a soft and gentle one, that ran through his body like a calm light every time you caressed his cheek or took his hand.

Despena:

Your kindness.

It is not a secret to anyone that the goddess tended to be reserved and quiet, like a shadow that no one spoke to if it was not necessary. That is why she appreciated your warm and compassionate heart. She loved to see you interact with other beings, because your words, your gestures and movements were always charged with a deep love and respect for life.

After centuries of living in her sister's shadow, of being ignored by her mother no matter how hard she tried to be the best supporting goddess for her, Despena appreciated your kindness knocking on her door, showing her that she didn't need to be better than anyone, just be the best version of herself.

Hermes:

Your calmness.

As the herald of the gods and the fastest god on Olympus, Hermes was used to a hectic, fast-paced life with chaos always following him wherever he went. That's why it was a huge surprise to everyone when he introduced you as his partner, because you were the complete opposite of him.

However, it took Apollo and Athena only a couple of minutes to realize why Hermes loved you so much. You were perfect for him, precisely because you balanced him, because in the midst of all his chaos, you were always standing there, ready to be the immovable pillar, the security and stability that he needed so much. It didn't matter if you treated him like a little boy from time to time, he loved it.

Hecate:

Your hair.

It might sound simple and almost comical right? That the goddess of magic, someone who could create absolutely anything with the snap of her fingers, would be so fascinated by something as simple and vain as mortal hair.

But it was precisely that simplicity that drew her. Hecate was aware of the wonders she could do and why mortals came to her daily, but that you let her play with your hair allowed her to anchor herself to the world, to the fact that she could be more than magic, that's why she loved so much spending hours brushing it while you worked your own magic on her, the simple one that only required a smile and a cup of tea.

Hela:

Your vitality.

She was used to the cold of Helheim, to the thousands of lamentations of the souls in pain and to the feeling of loneliness that always nestled in her chest. That's why she loved so much when you went to visit her.

You were always smiling, you were always happy, your voice traveled to the last corner of the gloomy place and your presence seemed to radiate a warm and comforting light, the souls seemed serene and almost happy while they played with you. You were life itself arriving at the place of death, and Hela loved you for it, enough to push the fear of the day that light went out to the back of her mind.

[espionn]

SeaWing tribe sheet!

seawings my beloved. i didnt do anything too crazy with them but they deserve to be a bit over-the-top. (also, lmk if anyone is interested in a size comparison chart and/or an evolutionary tree for the tribes because i might do those if people would like it)

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SeaWings are almost entirely aquatic dragons. They can live and breathe out of water, but vastly prefer their ocean habitat, and too much time out of water can dry and dull their scales. 

-They have short legs with wide, webbed talons which they use to propel through the water. They also have long, thick and powerful tails. SeaWings cannot be called comparatively large or small due to these unique proportions.

-Not unlike MudWings, SeaWings can fly, but aren’t skilled at it. Their wings have adapted to be used essentially as large fins to steer accurately through the water, and are not as effective for flight. They sometimes can leap from the water and catch air like flying fish, but they struggle to get fully off the ground; their wings are better suited for passive gliding.

-The pale marks that cover their bodies can be used to create bioluminescent light, so efficiently that SeaWings can turn individual lights on and off at will, and even control the dimness. They use these marks in flashing patterns to communicate underwater, in a language called Aquatic. Phrases in Aquatic are often less about individual words assigned to specific combinations - though that can be applied to some - but more about the overall visual expression. (For example, in the right context, random and scattered twinkling refers to stars, or the night sky.) Aquatic, like much of SeaWing culture, is loose, expressive and artistic.

-Large and airy frills run along their bodies, connecting at the tail. These bolden their appearance and make some swimming patterns almost mesmerizing.

-Colors, like many SeaWing traits, vary greatly, but blues and greens are most common. Grays, purples and even pinks also appear on occasion. 

-Due to the vastness of the oceans, there are multiple variants of the typical SeaWing. Living outside the sea kingdom, near the coral reefs bordering the mud kingdom and rainforest on the east side of Pyrrhia, are the fittingly-named Coral SeaWings, which are brightly-colored with rougher and rockier scales (and even minor color-changing abilities). Another group, with sightings so rare as to be unconfirmed beyond urban legend, is the Deep SeaWings; almost nothing is known about these besides a dark and spiny appearance with vivid bioluminescent markings. 

-Gills allow underwater breathing; small lungs allow above-water breathing, but not as strongly or reliably. SeaWings also have a few adaptations that allow them to withstand pressure changes.

Life Cycle:

-SeaWings are laid in clutches of anywhere between 6 and 12. It’s these large groups that will make up their friends and peers for the first few years of their lives. SeaWing parents are present for the incubation and hatching of the eggs, and they are fiercely protective parents when the dragonets are very young, but most dragonets begin to be more independent after that. 

-While the sibling clutches aren’t as close as MudWing troops, they do tend to be quite interdependent and prefer each other’s company. Once they get a bit older, though, they often branch off and find friends and romantic partners outside this group. 

-SeaWings are monogamous and mate for life. It isn’t uncommon for the first dragon they show interest in to be the one they stay with. Both parents are considered equally responsible for dragonets if they have them.

-Because they’re hatched underwater, dragonets don’t learn to speak aloud, walk on land or fly until they’re several years old; some never do in detail, instead living underwater without contact with other tribes for their entire lives.

Culture and Society:

-SeaWing society is structured and organized around the royal family, who have great cultural influence and wealth. The Deep Palace alone holds about 40% of the SeaWing population, and it is by no means a small tribe.

-Arts are a huge cultural mark of the Sea Kingdom - no other tribe, aside from the NightWings, has such expansive literature, and SeaWing sculpting and jewelry-making is famous across Pyrrhia. Before the war, in fact, one of the main exports of the Sea Kingdom came from art exhibits - festivals held on near-shore islands, where dragons from all different tribes would come, to enjoy the scenery as well as look at and/or buy various displays of SeaWing art. 

-This is one of the most social and closely-bonded tribes; with talons mainly made for mobility, dull horns, and no breath weapon, SeaWings depend on each other for safety, and their society is close-knit. Social norm intricacies, politeness in language, and subtly complex ranks and boundaries are all cultural things that dragons simply adapt to by being around it.

-The SeaWing education system is one of the most successful and robust, with every dragonet attending a school for at least two years. If they choose, there are also more specific career paths they can take if there’s an area they’d like to specialize in. They are taught extensively in literature and history, basic hunting and self-defense, and basic land language and skills, such as how to walk and fly. 

-Even more than other dragons, they take great care to keep their scales and frills shiny and healthy. In-depth cleaning methods are abundant, to keep barnacles and parasites off of them, and SeaWings in general are seen as much more attractive when they’re polished and unscratched. As they get older and move less, it may become harder to keep barnacles and algae off, but some SeaWings accept this and allow themselves to take on a “stones in a tide pool” look as a clear indication of age. SeaWings also enjoy jewelry, particularly made up of pearls and precious stones on strings; gold and silver don’t work as well underwater.

-They are resourceful and use a wide variety of tools; the fact that they have few natural defenses has led to a greater use of weapons than most other tribes, for example.

Diet: Facultative carnivorous (mostly meat). Fish, shellfish and crustaceans make up the vast majority of their diet, but their meals can also include a few types of seaweed, seagrass and other aquatic plants. In the palace, large hunting groups provide food for the entire population, but SeaWings who live outside of it usually provide food for themselves.

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel by the Wing - THIRTY-FOUR

chapter warnings: swearing? but like, if you're this far in the fic, you should be aware of that

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

“The baby’s yours.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could rein them back in. Jake could have just taken his bag and walked out of the door, but when he walked out of the bedroom, he found Bradley seated on the arm of the couch and grinning down at you while you talked about something. Your hands had been waving in the air as you chattered on, but they froze midair at his declaration.

“What are you talking about?” Bradley stood from the couch to face Jake. You sat up, your complexion a little greener than before. Jake held up the paternity tests and tossed them at the two of you.

“It’s yours. But I bet you already knew that,” he seethed. Bradley’s eyes flickered down towards the papers that were settling on the floor and then glanced back at you.

“I hadn’t told either of you yet,” you explained. You stood, feeling at a disadvantage, and Skipper pawed at your hands. You were suddenly grateful for the cat who curled up in your arms, placing a proverbial and literal barrier between you and the two men.

“When were you going to tell us?” Bradley’s question was soft and not accusatory which is the opposite of the hard, rigid lines in Jake’s shoulders and jaw.

“I don’t…” Your voice was thick as you tried to explain. “I don’t know. I didn’t…so much was changing and happening. I was going to and I’m sorry, I-“

“We discussed this before. It’s important to know family history to protect you and the baby.” Bradley’s voice was even and sure. He balanced the emotions in the room with careful words.

“At least we know who it is now because it could have been anyone,” Jake muttered.

And all hell broke loose.

“Hey!” Bradley snapped. Your grip on Skipper tightened minutely before you gently released him to hop back onto the couch. Bradley moved to block you from moving forward as rage consumed you.

Jake paled as his words sank in and he opened his mouth to apologize but any words were met with a throw pillow from the couch colliding with his face. Bradley wound his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his chest so you didn’t wiggle out of his arms.

“Fuck you, Jacob Seresin. Fuck you!”

“I didn’t mean that!”

A startled, bitter laugh escaped you and you reached for another throw pillow but Bradley maneuvered you away from the couch. “So what did you mean? You meant to call me a slut and not a whore? You meant to imply that I’ve slept only with the greater metro area of San Diego? Rich coming from a manwhore like you.”

A fire lit in your eyes and you yanked yourself away from Bradley. Your eyes landed on the duffle bag at Jake’s feet and you scoffed. “Of course. Of fucking course. The great Jake Seresin senses a whiff of commitment and runs the second he gets a glimpse of freedom. Now that you’re sure it isn’t yours, you’re going to take the chance to run.”

Bradley stiffened and surged forward, placing himself between you and Jake. He saw the way the blond’s jaw clenched and his fists balled up.

“Big, bad Jake Seresin is scared of some feelings,” you taunted. The gloves were off and the claws were out. You were sick and tired of being a simpering, hormonal mess. Anger settled in your veins and flooded your system as a balm to your wounded pride. “Well, looks like you’re off the hook. That’s what you’ve been looking for this whole time, right? You heard that you might be a father and you just couldn’t handle it. Guess it all works out in the end for you. Now you can go find some other girl to warm your bed before you ditch her too.”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Bradley warned.

“What, he can’t take a little heat? Thought you were better than this, Seresin, but I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

It was a low blow and you knew it. Your mouth parted with a stuttered exhale and then you swore quietly under your breath as Jake grabbed the straps of his duffle bag and stormed out of the townhome. Footsteps followed but he didn’t give a shit.

“C’mon, Hangman, this is your place.” Rooster was the one that followed him. Always so fucking noble. Good thing the kid was his because then they couldn’t attribute any problems to Jake’s fucked up family.

“I don’t care.” It doesn’t sound like him, this easy defeat. Jake tosses his bag into the cab of his truck and reaches for the driver’s side handle when Bradley grabs his wrist. Jake hates that a pulse of want rushes through him at the touch. There’s not a lot of men who are bigger than him, so Bradley’s easy confidence and casual display of strength always knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Jake.” His name sounds wrong in Rooster’s mouth. “Just stop and think this through. You’re hurt and acting irrationally and-”

“I thought you’d be happy that it’s yours. I’m out of the picture now. There’s no competition, Rooster. It’s always you. It was always going to be you.”

Bradley’s gaze sharpens and Jake has to look away from the sheer depth of his scrutiny. He notes a scratch in the paint on the door of his truck and files away a mental reminder to get that buffed out.

“Why are you doing this?” Rooster’s voice is softer than he expected and it makes Jake’s words catch on the lump in his throat.

“You said it yourself. All I’ll do is fuck it up. I’ve failed so many people. Don’t make me add you three to the list. I’ve fucked it up over and over again. I’m no good, Bradshaw. Let me make this easy for you. Let me go.”

Bradley’s grip instantly loosened around his wrist and it dawned on him what he meant. The night in the bar, that very first night, when he made that offhand comment. A bitter reminder about the past.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bradley argued. “I didn’t mean that you-”

“But I did. I do. I could have gotten my mom and sister out of their sooner. I could have saved Frankie. I could have stopped that fighter before it got so close to you and Mav and now you can’t fucking sleep at night. I can and I will ruin that kid’s life if you let me stay. I know you’re looking at houses so just…let me know when you get a place for her. She deserves it. I don’t.”

His fingers curled around the handle and he yanked the door open before Bradley could stop him. In fact, he didn’t even try to stop him. He just stepped back and watched in silence as the truck peeled out of the driveway.

Bradley slowly walked back into the house only to be greeted with an oppressive silence cloaking every nook and cranny in the place. It wasn’t meticulously clean like Jake typically keeps his places. It hadn’t been spotless ever since you and Bradley had taken up residence in his bed.

He peered into the living room and found it empty. The kitchen was also empty. He was about to enter the bedroom to check when Skipper approached. The cat bumped his little head against Bradley’s ankles and wound his way through his legs before padding off towards the guest bedroom.

When Bradley opened the door, he found you seated in the middle of the room and staring at the empty room. Fitting, he thought. The room certainly reflected the way the whole house felt.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” you whispered hoarsely.

“I think a lot of things were said that we didn’t mean,” he soothed. You blinked up at him with tear-filled eyes and Bradley pushed away from the doorframe to join you on the floor. He slid his arm around your shoulders and drew you close. He felt your tears more than he heard them, Jake’s words still ringing in his ears. Your body trembled as you wept and all Bradley could do was lay you both down on the floor and cradle you close.

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