#besides I don’t want anything that can be given to me; I want freedom and peace of mind and thunderstorms

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I think I’ve been horribly burned out for the past year ahaha

[cavillscurls]

inescapable

clint “freaky tales” x f!reader

Clint always gets what he wants—this time, you’re going to give it to him.

warnings/tags: MDNI. DARK CONTENT. dubious consent, and finely toeing the line of past non-con. stockholm syndrome. implied that reader was given to clint as a debt. clint is a hit man. explicit smut. unprotected piv. breeding/breeding kink. man-handling. choking. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. dacryphilia. pet names (baby, sweetheart, little girl, (2) princess, don’t know what came over me lol). sir kink. lots of praise despite his roughness. not beta’d and hardly proofread. wc: 1.5k

➻ a/n: we obviously know very little about this character thus far, so please, consider all of this au! i genuinely don’t know what this is! i just had the inspiration, and in these trying times, i cannot shy away from it. this is obviously much darker than what i usually write, so if that’s not your forte, no biggie. i’ll see you for the next one. <3

Time is but an allusion to you now. You’re not even quite sure when you lost track of it.

“That’s it. That’s a fucking good girl, fuck.”

Or when your predicament stopped feeling like a punishment and more like freedom. An escape from a life before, one hardly remembered, that brought nothing but pain, and struggle, and loneliness.

God, you were so lonely.

“I know. I know, baby. It’s so much.”

Even when you had it all, you had no one. Surrounded by those you called kin, meant to uphold you, protect you. But when it came down to it, you were just another pawn in the game. An asset. Something to be borrowed and bartered for the right price, or out of sheer, pathetic desperation.

They never cared for you, did they? Not really.

But he does. He wants you. He protects you. And at what cost? Pleasure that, once discovered, you couldn’t give up for the world. You would be lying if you said that, for some time, the obsession didn’t frighten you. Now, it only solidifies that freeing truth: he will never be like them. He will never let you go. You belong to him, and once you accepted it and all the privileges that came with it, you set your soul to rest.

Your brain is numb, nothing but white noise, and you tingle all over. It’s soothing. As is the weight of him—all of him, broad, and sturdy, and smothering—draped over your back and pinning you into the mattress. He’s shoved a pillow under your tummy, the perfect little angle for him to pound the tip of his cock against the deep spot that makes you see stars. His left hand pins one of yours beside your ear, threaded through the knuckles, and the other is wrapped securely around your throat, keeping your chin propped up enough that you don’t suffocate your face into the pillows.

You can’t see anything, anyways. Eyes glazed over, the luxury of air seemingly less important than the impending buildup in your belly.

You aren’t sure how many times you’ve come now—three, four? How many different ways he’s dragged your body across the too-stiff mattress, and folded it whatever way he pleases to see you squirm and leak all over him.

But this one is your favorite, you think. The heat and breadth of him, warm and everywhere all at once, the heavy sack of his balls tapping your swollen clit with every thrust. The one that makes you mindless, the one that makes you remember why this life, this new life, is so special.

“C’mon, little girl,” his gruff voice, a distant echo, finally breaks its way through the surface. It’s accompanied by a firm squeeze to your carotids, sending your eyes rolling back into your skull. “Talk to me. Tell me how you feel.”

You open your lips, but all that comes is a pool of drool and an indiscernible moan. Your thighs are shaking, and you can feel the mixture of slick, sweat, and come burning friction between your bodies.

You try once more. Long lost is the shame of how brittle or broken you sound; Clint accepts it all, and he never judges you for it.

“S-so g—ahh—f-full. M’so, so full, sir.”

His lips press into the back of your neck, and you swear you can feel them spread into a smile.

“Yeah?” he says, and it’s a little condescending. A little mean, but you don’t mind. Despite his nefarious ways and demanding job, Clint has placed you on a pedestal at the center of his universe. The way he plays you is just a reminder that there won’t be, can’t be, anyone else.

“Feel so fuckin’ full of this cock, huh, princess? Can’t even think straight.”

And you’re nodding, because he’s right. All else has lost its importance. All but the shape of him inside of you.

It hits you suddenly, a slight shift of his hips, and you’re gasping, babbling as if your life depends on it: “I’m g-gonna, I’m gonna come again. Please, p-please sir, can I-can I come?”

He places a wet, searing kiss against your jugular and loosens his grip on your neck to bury his hand in your hair. He yanks up, and your back arches off the mattress, adjusts his thighs so they’re cradling your ass and resumes his ceaseless pace.

Your feet kick desperately against the mattress, tears brimming your eyes and fingers digging into the sheets as you try to starve off an orgasm you know you’ll only see through upon his command, his permission.

“Hold on now, baby. Hold it,” he demands sternly, reaching his other hand around to palm at your tits, a squeal of ecstasy coming off your lips when he pinches one of the hardened nipples. “Just a little longer for me.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip until you taste iron, trying to focus on anything other than the tightly wound wire in your gut and the beast of a man behind you. You can’t help it, the way your slick walls start to flutter around him, dripping down to the base of his cock, and you hear him growl behind you until you’re being smothered again. He knocks the wind out of you, the entire weight of him pinning you down until the legs of the bed frame start to squeak and the headboard hits the wall.

He doesn’t hold you up, this time. Now, your noises are muffled into the pillows, and he drapes one of his calloused paws across the crown of your head, and presses his lips to your ear.

“So good, baby. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grumbles, his words slurred and heavy. “Gonna fill you up again, yeah? As many times as it takes, right?”

It’s the same spiel every time, only now, instead of panic, the prospect of it makes your heart thrum in your chest. Your belly stir with butterflies. Something like hope, delight.

And you’re nodding again, garbling yes, sir, yes sir, into the pillows, repeating the mantra to yourself—as many times as it takes.

Until your belly swells, and you’re full of him, a piece of him.

“That’s right, that’s it, sweetheart,” he’ll tell you. “Gonna keep you nice and full of me till it takes. Keep you both forever.”

Forever. Forever. Forever. It doesn’t sound so bad now, when you weigh it in an empty head run on nothing but the scent of him. You would want for nothing. You, and whatever this piece of him would come to be, protected, loved even, by a man you are supposed to despise.

“Now,” you suddenly hear him command, and your body does the rest of the work for you. Releasing the flood of euphoria and drenching your trembling limbs in it.

He’s grunting in your ear, cock swelling, and spilling inside of you with a roar. Even when he’s finished, he’s still thrusting into you—slower now, carefully fucking every last drop of his seed inside of you.

Every last drop is precious, he’d tell you those first few times, back when you would scream and thrash in a feeble attempt to get him out of you. As if you could ever conquer a man like him, an unmovable force, austere in his pursuit of anything and everything. He always gets what he wants, and what he wants now—

“Easy. Easy, there, sweetheart.” He’s petting the side of your head, turning it for you so that your cheek is pressed into the pillow and you can gulp down mouthfuls of air. “That’s right, deep breaths. Just gonna stay like this for a little while,” he coos, and you hardly notice the stretch of him, plugged all the way up inside of you, until he wiggles his hips a bit and a residual spurt of come leaks into you. You both groan in unison.

Your eyelids grow heavy as your breaths even out; even with the overwhelming sensation of him still all around you, inside of you, you feel an odd sense of peace. Every muscle in your body was pulled taut, now utterly relaxed, satiated. He must feel you settled, because he begins to trail open-mouth kisses across your shoulder, your neck, the base of your sweaty scalp.

“Have a good feeling about this one,” he whispers, and you shudder when one of his hands squeezes between your body and the mattress, and splays firmly over your belly. “Be all swollen before you know it, princess.”

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you whimper. He chuckles rather darkly in response.

“Yeah, you like picturin’ it, don’t you?”

Maybe it’s conditioned, or self-preservation.

“Yes…. yes, sir,” you sigh.

But you can almost hear it yourself. That semblance of truth come to the surface.

You trail a shaky hand under you, finding his, and laying it atop. If you try hard enough, you can feel the phantom outline of a different body, bigger, accommodating new life.

A new life is all you’ve ever wanted.

You feel yourself slip past the threshold of slumber before you can dwell on it any longer, but for a fleeting moment, you acknowledge that truth once more.

It feels strange.

It feels like home.

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter six: A place to belong

(Unedited, like the rest of the series)

Outer space had always been cold.

Your body didn’t suffer the effects of the temperature, yet you still felt the chill of the void on your skin. The stars and their dusts glowed around you, decorating your space in the most beautiful way that your human self could never dream of.

You thought of your family in your previous life and wondered how they were, if they were alright, if they were eating well and living well.

You also came to realize you weren’t homesick at all.

Materializing in the express and glancing at Welt made you feel a humane sense of relief in knowing you aren’t the only one who wanted to badly convey that you were safe in this new world you resided in.

Unlike Welt though, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to what once was, or have the choice in having the best of both worlds. Your existence was cemented in this world permanently the moment you became the embodiment of a concept and a being no longer human.

You can’t turn back. It’s a little funny that though you represented freedom, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to something simpler. You did not have the freedom to return to be the being you once were.

You can emulate human expressions, you can still feel, but you know you’re not really seeing or feeling things the way a human would anymore.

You’re not disturbed by this in the slightest.

You snapped out of your thoughts and walked towards your room then thought of how you’d decorate it— maybe something similar to a bachelor pad? No, Pompom would not be a fan. Maybe something similar to the archives? No, you’d be stealing Dan Heng’s shine.

Then you remembered cozy cabins, quilts, books, all things comfortable and got an idea.

You walked out of your room to seek Pompom and Himeko, ready to lay out your idea in personalizing that little space inside of this train— now that you think of it, it’s more of a house than anything else.

You realized having a home feels comforting more than it ought to be. As an Aeon, your home was the cosmos, the space being your cradle and the nebulas your walls; but the cosmos is hollow and cold, and it did not provide the warmth of the train, or the warmth only humans had.

While you could not go back to being what you were before, you at least had a choice in what your home should be, and what you could do.

“Himeko.” You called out to her, and she turned to you, smiling like you’re a kid that wants her company. “I have ideas to personalize my room, would you be fine if I were to be a bit loud in there for a bit?”

“I don’t mind, though you should ask Dan Heng-“

“I’m fine with it.” Dan Heng answered for her, sitting on a chair and tasting one of her coffee cups— you bit the urge to grimace at the sheer will he had to even drink that.

“Great! I’ll start when we’re on our next stop.” You said with a grin. “Herta got something heavy for us to do right? Leave it to me, think of it as a thank you and a vacation of some sorts.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.” She sounded cautious almost, even after more than eight years.

“It won’t be much. Besides, you do own this train, think of it as a courtesy— like a tenant paying rent.” You stated, “I shared this space with you for more than eight years now and I’m modifying an area to my liking, it’s only fair if you get something in return in exchange right?”

Her eyes widened, seemingly surprised. She parted her lips, as if wanting to say something but you gently shushed her, knowing what it is she wanted to say. You’ve already given your protection and blessing to the express— you didn’t even need to help, but you want to.

“[Name].” She sighed fondly. “You can do as you wish, you don’t need permission from me or anyone else.”

“Oh, isn’t asking permission how things work in a shared space though?” You tilted your head, frowning. “I know I’ve done pretty unsavory things outside of this train,” you twirled a strand of your hair, looking away as you felt Dan Heng’s questioning stare on you. “But I don’t mind having to go back and forth with this every time I want to do something inside of it. it’d be unfair for everyone here if I don’t consider their feelings in the matter, or warning them ahead of time to what I will be doing.”

“Ah, I see.” She said, nodding to let you know she understood your point with a relieved and fond smile on her face. “Very well then. I’ll tell Welt you’ll be going to fetch the materials Herta asked for on your own.”

“We’ll have fun next time I promise— ugh if only Void was dead so I could use his body.” That sounded wrong, but soulium is great to use for whatever reason— be it a weapon, a snowboard, or a pan. “Hey uh before we land…. please tell Welt that (Censored).”

With those words, you left, disintegrating from the activation of a space anchor as you saw the planet where the materials on Herta’s list were particularly abundant.

Dan Heng for once looked a little horrified, Himeko however could only sigh at your antics.

What even was your suggestion? Well, it involves using Void as a snowboard, and using his “son” as the brakes.

Those words would be horrifying enough to hear if you were a man.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do that to you.” Himeko said in an attempt to reassure him. Although it worked, the words still rang through his head.

———————————

As you hummed and gathered the materials after killing a couple of Nanook’s children, you heard bells, then giggling.

You sighed. “You’re not very subtle in showing your amusement for the shit I do you know?”

You could feel them smiling, before multitudes of masks enter your vision and the sound of party balloons fill the space at the corner of your eyes.

The Elation morphs into a human-like shape like you, and you’re not surprised to find out whose form they took.

Familiar green eyes, and dark hair. Of course it would be Belobog’s conman this time— the last time Aha had showed themselves to you they took on the form of Hanabi when you were in some planet with Boothill some years ago.

“Of course! It’s rude to greet a friend without announcing my presence.” They grinned, their smile stretching a little wider than what a normal human could smile. You think this would have utterly creeped you out had you been a human.

“Good to see you again, Aha.” You said.

“And you are still the same old you.” They poked your nose. “What fun are you going to pull next I wonder?” They jeered.

“None of your business— I didn’t think you cared. I was under the assumption that as long as you are elated, then all is well.” Aha laughed at your intentional wording, slapping their knee as they wheezed too loudly.

“This is why you are my good friend.” They pinched your cheeks. “To think you’d offer all sides of a theater just like this, did you enjoy it when you were behind the safety of your screen too?”

What the fuck.

“What do you mean by that?” You innocently prodded, Aha merely kept their grin wide like a Cheshire Cat, their form morphing into something.. wrong, off, inelegant and disproportionate if you looked closer.

“Oh you know well what I am talking about, Little Libertas.” They said. “A reborn Aeon from a realm none of us can reach, how amusing indeed.” their eyes widened, pupils blown as they confirmed your suspicion. Aha had no reason to speak of lies to you for they were not human.

“Ugh.” You groaned. “Of course you’d break the fourth wall.” You said softly as you went back to picking up the materials with ease.

“Yet you still laugh whenever I rickroll you.”

“Fair.”

Aha hummed, their features returning back to normal seeing as it didn’t get a reaction out of you as they wanted.

“I would like to watch you more.” They said to you. “You are amusing.”

You made a face, and they laughed as they slowly but surely disappeared.

“Until next time little friend.”

You sighed, looking at the materials inside of the sack before dragging it with you and walking to a space anchor.

You still have a room to renovate after all.

—————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII (HERE), Part VIII, …….

Interludes: one, two…..

I’m still navigating on how I could properly write this fic, so when I eventually edit it please expect minor or major changes to how things would function because we know HSR lore isn’t that concrete yet.

I would also like to thank everyone for their love and support for this series, I love everyone’s praises towards this— I was initially hesitant to publish it, but I’m glad I did.

See you on the next installation!

[obbystars]

Encounter Nihilism

Synopsis: “Just because they don’t have any eyes doesn’t mean they don’t have other senses. Come on, you should know that by now.” Z-13 (Sebastian Solace)

Notes: Not exactly a Sebastian Solace x Reader fic but you can read it as such / read When Light Fades before reading this / Reader deaths, nothing too angsty though / Sebastian being an asshole (and we love him for it) / Experimental deaths + cutting off limbs / Brief angst at the end / may be a tad bit shorter than my usual (it bothers me)

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Is it obvious this is self indulgent? I really love When Light Fades, super proud of it. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna take this concept and use it for an OC yet, but oh boy, it’s getting strong. Anyway, this fic’s meant to explore more on the reader featured in When Light Fades while also continuing to experiment with Sebastian’s character.)

As you swam to the next door, you hear strange noises coming from the other side. It’s not the Good People, they can’t come into the flooded rooms. It doesn’t sound like an angler either. You continued forward and the next door slid open. Your eyes widened at the sight of the creature on the other side as it looked at you.

Panicked, you try to climb into a locker. You don’t make it in time as you feel its tentacles wrap around your head to crush your diving mask, but that isn’t what kills you. The creature manages to trick the operator behind the PDG by attempting to remove it, causing immediate detonation.

You woke up with a gasp in an all too familiar room.

“I heard that,” Sebastian leans on his hand as his lure flickers on, “What’d you run into this time… Ah,”

You looked down as he slides over the document. An image of the creature you encountered is shown and beside it was another photo that was redacted. Maybe in another death you’ll see what that other photo is.

Nihilism was the codename Urbanshade had given it. A lot of the text within the first page was left redacted, and only a few lines were on the second page were visible.

“If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.”

That was the only line you were able to read. Sebastian begins to tap his finger against the desk. You sit back and he takes that as the signal you’re done, but it’s not like you read much anyway.

He sighs as he closes the document, “Think of if as Red Light, Green Light. Surely you’ve played that game before,”

“Ugh, this feels worse than Pandemonium…” you groaned, leaning on the table.

“Pretend you’re a corpse floating in the water. That should be pretty easy for you, yeah? I mean, you have died quite a lot,”

“Screw you…”

Upon your next life, you find yourself in the trench tunnels about 20 doors in. It was an area in Hadal Blacksite you despised since it showed you that the anglers can attack from the front. You stepped out of the locker once the angler passed by and turned on your flashlight. There’s no squiddles in this room so you decided to look through the drawers for anything useful.

In the corner of your eye, you swear you saw something moving in the dark water. It wasn’t the Eyefestation as you didn’t see a green glow. Instead, it was Z-8. You freeze once you finally realized it, and you clicked your flashlight off. They looked like they were just passing by, but they suddenly turned to look at your general direction. Did they somehow sense you turning it off?

“Are you alive?”

You actually freeze up this time. It was a voice inside your head, but it wasn’t like Eyefestation where it tried to mimic the voice of the person in the PA. This was its own voice.

“I can sense you there,”

You start taking shallow breaths, almost resorting to holding it.

“Don’t worry. I can’t reach you. But when I do, it’s not personal,” it continues, “We’re both fighting for what we want, right? Freedom from this place?”

You try to not listen, thinking it’s only try to persuade you into meeting up with it. Maybe even striking up some sort of deal.

“I wish this wasn’t how we met, but I owe Sebastian. This is my favor to him,” its tone suddenly changes, “We can’t let you get that crystal,”

“…they owe Sebastian?” You whispered to yourself.

The Eyefestation suddenly emerges from the dark, and Z-8 swims out of her way as her eyes turned red. A new voice cried inside your head, pleading for you to look into its eyes. The next thing you knew, you were back in the room with Sebastian who stifled a laugh as he slides over the document to you. You had questions concerning what Z-8 had said, but maybe now’s not the right time to ask.

“For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.”

Sebastian closes the document, still trying to keep himself from laughing, “A tag-team! Who would’ve thought, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that’s how I died,”

“Like a deer in headlights,” he smirks as he leans closer, “Happens to all of us, but man, I thought you’d be used to seeing that shark considering the amount of times you looked at her,”

“She just startled me! I’d love to look at her if she wasn’t able to kill me just by making me look at her,” you shrugged, “She is a beautiful shark,”

Sebastian gives you an odd look and groans, “Get out of here already,”

“Fair enough,”

The next few deaths to Z-8 were more of trial and error. In your most recent death, you learned the hard way that Z-8 does not like the flash beacon and did not hesitate to detonate your PDG. You felt like it was a strange reaction considering it took them a moment to even react when you used any other light source.

“Got grabbed again, did ya?” Sebastian laughed.

He then slides the document to you, now revealing the entire document with some text still left redacted. Some documents contained those, such as his own, and you learned to stop caring about it. At least it wasn’t like the Multi-Monster. Previously redacted photo was now uncovered. A person whose face was obscured.

Z-8 - Codename: Nihilism. Real name: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇

In early 2011, five LR-Ps were selected to be a part of an experiment to achieve immortality. Out of the five selected, only Z-8 survived the first round of tests. Z-9, Z-10, Z-11, and Z-12 all succumbed to different effects as each subject was given a different dosage. Although Z-8 survived, they were not immune to the effects their dosage brought. As a result, the experiment was left on hold until researchers found a better source to reach the desired goal.

By 2013, the experiment resumed using the immortal jellyfish as originally planned along with the mimic octopus, the ▇▇▇, and ▇▇▇▇. Z-8 was used again for the next test and hasn’t experienced any side effects on the first day. Two days later, a guardsman escorting Z-8 noticed they have been stumbling and bumping into the walls. On the seventh day, Z-8 had gone completely blind. However, it has been noted that Z-8 is capable of sensing where there is light and where someone is even if they are not moving.

Z-8 soon began to struggle walking and can’t seem to have a tight grip. It didn’t take very long for them to lose all feeling in their arms and legs. They were still able to move their torso as well as their head. They were still capable of speech, but Z-8 has been refusing to talk.

Z-8 was meant to be executed due to the state they were in, but thirty minutes after their heart seemingly stopped, it soon started to beat again. They wake up an hour later as if they had just taken a nap with all of their memories still intact, but Z-8 still cannot see and still cannot walk or move their arms. This resulted in having to move Z-8’s location into a more suitable cell for testing.

Z-8 has endured 5 deaths before changes in their body started becoming clear. Shortly after, testing and studying the regenerative properties Z-8 should have began. Due to poor execution during the procedures, Z-8 ended up enduring 7 more deaths. By the 4th death, a new side effect to Z-8’s resurrection was noted. Upon death, coral (polyps) begins to form on their body.

Their body soon takes the form of a humanoid jellyfish, leading to having to relocate them again. Z-8 no longer turns to others when they are near until they shine a light. The behavior they show gives the impression they like the light and often try to follow it, sometimes moving their head or even their entire body.

Z-8 will then be used to study the regenerative properties further until it can be refined in a way that is desirable.

Before the lockdown was in effect, Z-8 was going to be sold at The Anomalous Auctions as Z-8 had been deemed of no monetary value, nor can be used for work. 5 hours into the lockdown, camera footage caught Z-13 transporting Z-8 to an unknown location.

If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.

DO NOT move as Z-8 can sense you nearby, but they can’t differentiate between a corpse and a living person until you move.

Turn off any and all light sources in your possession as Z-8 can sense it and become curios. Your window to turn it off is narrow, but it’s still wide enough to not raise their suspicion.

There is a chance where operatives may find Z-8 roaming in a dark flooded room with S-Q. If the room prior has lights on, Z-8 will go into that room. It is safe to move in the dark room as Z-8 cannot tell the difference between you and the S-Q.

For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.

Unlike Z-13, operatives are instructed to contain Z-8 as it is impossible for the subject to stay dead.

You’re not exactly sure what to say to all of this. Sebastian is being much quieter than usual too, not even closing the document when you sat back. You look up at him, building up the courage to speak.

“So that’s what they meant when they said they owe you…”

“They don’t owe me anything,” his voice lowered into a growl, “It was their choice to stay much like that shark,”

You look down at the document again and sighed, “Kinda feels like there’s much more than that,”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You sighed again as you stood up to leave. Sebastian watches you go and looks back down at the document, then closes it without another word.

[one-idea]

I had an idea for a story but no time to do anything with it so I offer to you:

The crew is facing some monarch with a devil fruit that forces absolute obedience from the people they hit with it. Zoro gets hit, but the command is "kneel and obey your king" and. Well. Zoro has only ever had one king, hasn't he?

It quickly turns out that Luffy and Zoro can read each other so well that Zoro starts responding to nonverbal orders, things Luffy wants but would never say, never command. Zoro might not even be mentally present, just responding automatically.

I love this!!! And I am honored that you chose me.

On this could be so sweet and at the same time utterly heartbreaking.

Because you know as soon as they find out what that guys devil fruit ability is Luffy hates him. Luffy values freedom above everything else. The idea that someone has the ability to strip someone of their freedom so completely and force them to obey every command has to enrage him.

Especially if the people under his control have no free will. Because you can play this ability a few ways

Complete and utter control. They don’t do anything without being told to do it.

They live their lives normally until an order is given (like Ella enchanted. She has to obey the order but she is conscious the whole time and able to express her displeased with certain orders)

Mix it they live a normal life until an order is given and then they kind zone out until the order is complete.

And depending on which style it is can lead to a lot of different outcomes. (You could even make it so that the ability differs depending on how many times he commands them, the power becoming more encompassing each time.)

Anyhow the Strawhats hear about this and Luffy goes in Guns a Blazing as always. Nami tries to stop him because “what happens if he orders one of us?”

Luffy is sure that defeating the guy will free everyone, it’s worked every other time. Besides they are all stronger willed enough to probably break free. Zoro agrees because he’d never take a weak man’s orders. Sanji is hesitant but agrees that they have to beat this guy and the other two have already left.

But they get there and Luffy and Zoro have fought their way to the top. The others following up behind them. They are facing down the Monarch who smirks because they’ve heard about the famous strawhats Captain and his loyal dog. “I wonder what you’ll do Strawhat, when your mutt no longer listens to you.” They then turn to Zoro and order “Roronoa Zoro kneel and obey your King.”

They’re smirking expecting Zoro to fall to his knees in front of them. And Zoro does fall to his knees but he’s facing Luffy. He’s not speaking (he can’t) and is awaiting his orders.

Luffy is shocked. The enemy is cackling because he thinks he’s got Zoro but Luffy yells. “Zoro get up.” And Zoro’s right back to his feet.

“Yes my king.”

The king is flabbergasted and Luffy is looking on with pride thinking Zoro shook off the command.

The monarch escapes durning some confusion which isn’t ideal but they’ll catch up.

It isn’t until later when Zoro is doing every little thing Luffy says with out complaint (“Zoro carry me.” He gets scooped up no question. “Zoro! Meat.” They’re heading to the kitchen) and it takes the crew a while to catch on because Zoro is always by Luffy and Zoro always does things for Luffy. But normally there is gruff complaining from him at the least.

It isn’t until later that they put it together that Zoro is under the devil fruit power. But the command “Kneel and obey your king” was a poor one to give Zoro because he already has a king. He is the first mate of the future pirate king. The monarch meant obey me but Zoro’s brain only processes King as Luffy. There is no other.

Luffy is horrified when he finds out. Zoro has been doing whatever he wanted all day. And he thought it was his first mate indulging him. In actuality he had stripped Zoro of his freedom. Zoro had been obeying not because he’s the best first mate ever but because he had no choice. And he hadn’t said anything!

Zoro figures it out right away. But he can’t say anything to Luffy. He knows his captain. If he knows he has complete control over Zoro he would hate it so much. He’d be overly careful around Zoro and probably stop talking to him to try and avoid giving him any commands. (He’s right that’s Luffy’s go to strategy once he finds out)

He trust Luffy completely. Luffy, while silly, rarely gives Zoro orders that he wouldn’t chose to obey anyways.

Until they find out. Maybe Zoro sees a threat and goes to chase after it and Luffy yells to wait. He means for Zoro to wait up, he wants to fight to. But Zoro freezes mid-step. And just like that all the pieces click together.

And the idea that they can read each other so well that Zoro is obeying non verbal commands is so cute but also heart wrenching because Luffy is trying to hard not to order Zoro around that he’s just not talking to him. But Zoro knows Luffy. And is so used to predicting and interpreting his wants and needs he’s doing things any ways.

He’s pulling Luffy into hugs when he needs comfort (a movement Zoro normally lets pass) he stands beside him when Luffy needs support.

And it’s causing Luffy to spiral because Zoro doesn’t want to do these things he’s making Zoro do them.

But Zoro absolutely wants to be with Luffy and comfort him and support him. Luffy could ask him to disembowel himself and he’d do it. Because the king was right he is Luffy’s loyal first mate (dog) and if he was going to be forced to obey anyone he’d pick Luffy because he trust him completely.

But to Luffy this is a violation of this trust. Any order he has to give that Zoro follows blindly is stressing him out because Zoro is going to hate him for taking his freedom.

Oh I love this idea so much!!! Thank you. I’ll have to think about this more.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 10: Passing out from pain

I’m soooooo glad I had this prewritten guys you have no idea. Who’s ready for a Hyrule blood curse fic? 😈

Warnings: blood and severe injury, brief body horror, uncertain fate of a character

Ao3 link

Continuation (day 18)

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

The blade sinks through his chest, and with it, seals Hyrule’s doom.

He can’t even scream anymore, his voice raw from threats and defiance and previous cries already torn from his throat. Ropes keep him from moving anything except for his head, and even if they weren’t, he’s so exhausted from the lack of nourishment and every last-ditch escape effort he’s made in the past couple days that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

So when the blade rips through him, right below his ribs, all that comes out of Hyrule’s throat is a breathy whimper.

It changes to a keening whine when the sword is twisted in his gut, the sound thick with agony. Blood gushes when the sword is pulled back out, and Hyrule lets out a weak cry, watching through blurry vision as his skin turns red with it.

Blood pools below him in a slight indentation in the stone, the rock cut precisely for this moment. It trails down the side, and Hyrule forces himself to watch as it lands in a large bowl with a pile of ashes, which immediately begin to smoke.

An angry sob tears from his throat as more of his blood spills, howls of victory and glee a cacophony in his ears. He fought tooth and nail against this ever happening, yet here he is, like a lamb at the slaughter, his blood spilled and Ganon’s return imminent.

And nobody comes to help him.

Hyrule closes his eyes then, shaking in pain and grief. He’d fallen through a portal alone, right into a near army of monsters in his homeland. Caught off-guard and dizzy from dark magic, he’d given the fight everything he had, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d been hit over the head and dragged away, and despite his endless attempts at freedom, nothing had worked.

The others had never shown up.

Goddesses if nothing else, send them to fix my mess, Hyrule pleads as he hears an unearthly squelch come from the ashes, and the monsters roar in excitement. Even if I have to die, help them stop him, don’t let my land be destroyed because of me.

A hissing sound is coming from the ashes now, dark magic coalescing and feeding off of Hyrule’s blood. It’s like ice in his veins, sharp and deadly cold, and Hyrule sobs again, giving a weak thrash against his bonds.

He can’t let them win. He can’t.

He can’t.

The dark magic is leeching off of him like a parasite now, feeding off of his blood and magic, stealing his energy and very lifeblood to use for its own purposes. The chanting around him speeds, excitement thrumming in the air. Hyrule hears something move beside him, drag itself through the ashes, and if he’d eaten anything in the past few days, it would be coming up now.

“More,” a voice rasps, phlegmy and horrific, and more tears born of pain roll down Hyrule’s cheeks as the blade sinks through him in a different part of his chest. He chokes, and it’s pulled out and slashed at his sides and arms as well. By then the pain is blocking out so much of his world that Hyrule doesn’t realize it at first when the blade is dragged from his shoulder straight down to the opposite hip.

He would scream, but what energy he had is being siphoned away from him, and all he can do is shudder with a cough that tastes like blood. His whole body feels soaked with it, and an almost hilarious thought drifts through his mind that it’s a good thing the monsters stripped him of everything but his shorts, otherwise he’d be washing bloodstains out for months.

As if I’ll live that long.

He convulses with another wracking cough, and blood spatters up with it, pain dulling so much of his world. For some reason the only clear sense he has left is his hearing, and his ears are filled with his own agonized breaths, chants and cheers of monsters, the gut-churning sounds of bones popping together and skin forming over flesh beside him.

He’s shocked he isn’t dead yet, but the dark magic probably has a hand in that. It’s siphoning even more greedily now, and Hyrule feels it increase and increase and increase until all he can do is shake and gasp from the pain it leaves him with.

It abruptly triples and rips a broken scream from his throat (apparently he is still capable of such noises), making his back arch and vision go red with agony. It only lasts a few moments, but they’re like a lifetime.

When it eases and Hyrule finally falls still, all he can do is drag in a trembling, wretched hiccup.

And then the laughter starts.

It begins at first weak and croaking, as if it has to remember how to make such a sound. But as the minutes tick by, it grows louder, and deeper, and so familiar that Hyrule nearly wails with the weight of his failure.

He’s back.

Oh gods he’s back.

Hyrule keeps his eyes closed as the laughter continues, his body finally gone limp. It’s the one comfort he has left, and the darkness behind his eyelids is getting deeper at the edges, the kind Hyrule only ever sees when things are really bad. But the moment he begins to drift into its edges, the stabbing ice of dark magic drags him back, wracking him with another bubbling cough.

Footsteps trail closer to him, different then that of the monsters who’ve been prowling around the stone. Fingers—claws abruptly grab his chin, tilting his face around, and Hyrule feels blood drip down his face.

“I know you live, Hero. Look at me.”

The voice is familiar and not, booming and smooth, yet holding an inhuman growl, one that makes Hyrule involuntarily shudder.

The claws grip tighter when he doesn’t obey, breaking skin. Despite how Hyrule doesn’t want to do anything that voice tells him, let his final act be one of defiance, his curiosity of what his failure has done gets the better of him.

He drags opens his eyes, and sees a monster.

Ganon isn’t a beast like when Hyrule fought him— but neither is he entirely a man. He’s some sort of mix of the two, claws rather than fingers, hooves instead of feet. His hair is more of a mane than anything, and where there isn’t fur, his skin has a blueish tone to it, one Hyrule wishes he didn’t remember so well.

Ganon’s face is largely human, though the features aren’t quite right, a snout-like nose, sharp teeth... especially the red eyes, shot through with a terrifyingly intelligent yellow. Those eyes study Hyrule in silence, the laughter subsided.

He tilts Hyrule’s head side to side, and Ganon leans so close to him that Hyrule can see the flecks of black in his eyes.

“This is the child who slew me?” he growls, digging his claws even tighter into Hyrule’s jaw. Hyrule can’t control the way his breath hitches in pain, and a smirk pulls at Ganon’s mouth, revealing fangs so large they’re almost tusks. “Pathetic.”

Ganon abruptly drops his chin, scoring marks along his cheek, and Hyrule can only watch as he studies the crimson on his hands, leaning forward to sniff it. A grin pulls at his lips, and he suddenly drags a clawed hand across Hyrule’s chest, coating his palm in blood as Hyrule chokes back another whimper of pain.

Ganon raises it up for the crowd of monsters to see, fingers dripping with red.

Then presses it to his bare chest, and the monsters roar at the handprint of blood left there when he removes it.

Ganon raises his hand to his mouth then, his tongue flicking out as he licks the remaining blood off his claws, and Hyrule chokes back bile. The monsters around them continue to roar, watching as their master licks their enemy’s blood from his hand, but they fall silent as he finishes, and raises a fist.

“Hyrule will be ours!” he roars, and the monsters roar with him, blin and poe, wizzrobe and daira, all ecstatic at the return of their master.

Ganon probably gives more of a speech of some kind then, one that whips the monsters into a near frenzy, but Hyrule doesn’t hear any of it, lost in his failure and brokenness. Blood still drips from his wrecked chest, sticky and hot against his freezing skin. His whole body is pain, his world is that of darkness and blood, and he doesn’t know why he isn’t dead yet.

Am I not even granted that release?

Something wet falls down his cheek, and Hyrule doesn’t know whether it’s blood or tears.

Just breathing is agony in its purest form, and Hyrule’s wet rasps grow weaker with every gurgling exhale. Claws grip at his chin again after a bit, pressing until his eyes open, and Hyrule sees Ganon leering at him mere inches from his face.

“Not yet, little hero,” Ganon growls, victory glinting in his eyes. “As much as I’d like to watch you drown in your own blood, I have use of you yet.”

Hyrule glares through the pain and his tears, rage at the beast in front of him granting him just a bit of energy. “G... g-go to... hhh—”

His chest convulses and blood spurts from his mouth in a weak cough again, making Ganon laugh.

He abruptly slams a clawed hand down on Hyrule’s middle, and his world explodes into white and red, swirling with stars that bleed almost as much as he is.

If he screams, he doesn’t hear it.

He can’t breathe, not through the pressure and pain in his middle, his throat full of liquid he’s too weak to expel. Hyrule gags and writhes, tears slipping down his nose, all while Ganon watches with a delighted smirk.

“Bring him,” he hears faintly, and Hyrule wants to do everything he can to stop that voice. He wants to scream and fight and protect his world from the monster he’s created, steal a sword and drive it through Ganon’s chest before he can do anything else, but he’s too drained. Too powerless.

Too weak.

All he can do is sob one last desperate prayer that his brothers will do what he couldn’t, and then his vision spirals from red to black.

[yanaleese]

◈ Love Me, Kidnap Me, and Love Me More ◈

Yandere! OC Karma x Calculative! Gender Neutral! MC

VER EN ESPAÑOL. MUY PRONTO

Synopsis: You put blood, sweat, and tears into your work. Little did you know, your secret admirer, Marka does it too.

Content warning: Yandere and literally anything that goes with it, violence, hypnosis (not on reader), drugs (implication), and yes there will be a Part 2

PLEASE SUPPORT PALESTINE WITH MONEY, OR WITH A CLICK

Scores, talents, personas.

THESE are the factors that classify the education system. Although not immaculate, it serves its purpose - to send vulnerable people into the workforce, and devour them whole. Their livelihoods, their time, and the minuscule bits of energy left inside of them.

But there are some who are born with advantages, and some who have to work their ass off for it.

I, unfortunately, have the latter. Things don’t come easy, instant, or perfect. I am actually quite idle, I enjoy the freedom of gaining knowledge and insight. Uniquely, tried and tested knowledge that is critical for survival.

And that, is how I manage my late nights. By listening to “Advice to Survive” with its host, McGregory Callahan.

Back in the 60s, he was a CWO-4 Navy Seal officer, a rank given to an exclusive few. And now that he’s retired, he humbly shares his advice to the community, and showcases guests every now and then to keep the show alive. But majority prefers to listen to his voice, which I strongly agree with.

“And so, ladies and gents…” His voice was smooth and husky. “It’s time to sign off, folks. Stay safe, and always remember…” I chuckled, saying his closing lines with him.

“Live, not die, and try to survive. Thanks everyone.”

As the radio chipped off, the sun poured its rays into my window, as if the heat wasn’t enough. I groaned, my eyes leading me to my collection of “wake-up” capsules. Tempted, and deceived, I slithered my way over to it, dropping another 2 or 3 in my mouth.

I grumbled. Regret seeped into my veins, my body woozy and tense. Once again, I stayed up.

And of course, it happened to be a Monday morning; where I had a morning class. “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” I began stuffing my bag with my utensils, paperwork, snacks. I could never get used to this shit. “I hope nobody pisses me off for the rest of the day.”

◈

“The bell. Ugh, the damn bell. Never have I wanted to smash that thing into pieces.” You could barely make out the crowd, more or less. Not even your best friend’s face.

“Wait. You had a rough night…again?” Heidi glared, her eyes were practically glowing with concern.

“Maaaaaaybe.” You slurred, taking baby steps to your seat. “Good thing my seat mate is a quiet kid.”

Speak of the devil, Marka entered the room, his footfalls silent as he strolled to your direction. His timing was impeccable.

“Good morning, Marka.” You mumbled, your eyes not meeting his. Besides, there were no eyes thanks to his bangs.

“Heh…” In response, Marka gave an exciting grin, happily waving a good morning back to you. How he could be energized on a Monday morning, was a complete mystery to you.

Actually, a lot of him is shrouded in mystery. Or rather, in suspicion.

Other than the weird name, Marka was supposedly from the countryside of Honduras, Tegucigalpa. His parents were also from Honduras, and he worked as a pizza delivery driver, and stayed at a friend’s apartment for shelter, with the purpose of redoing college thrice to get a degree. While some of this is true, some of it didn’t add up.

For example, his idioms. Sometimes he would say “Puchica” , “Chero”, “Chivo” - and when I looked them all up, the common denominator was El Salvador. He said his parents came from Honduras, so how can this be true?

“[Y/N].”

Then him, being the pizza delivery driver. You don’t often order pizza, but you’ve never thought that pizza could smell so shitty. You could remember him rushing to one of your afternoon classes, and instead of smelling like oil and grease, he smelt like weed. What the fuck???

“Hello? [Y/N]?”

Plus, the fact that he is redoing the course a third time. And yet, every single exam he is perfectly scoring an average mark. He also ends before everyone else, as if he has all the time in the world.

That’s not normal.

Though you’ve never confronted Marka about this, you preferred to remain silent. Times are harsh, and you weren’t willing to stretch out a hand when you could barely help yourself.

But there is NO way that you’re befriending someone as suspicious as him.

“[Y/N]!!!” Heidi whisper-shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“[Y/N], please answer-“ Mr. Dimmy paused, clearing his throat. “Actually. On second thought, please see me after class. Thank you.”

You bit my lip, letting it bleed. Fuck. You spaced out again.

“Sir I-“

“No buts, no coconuts.”

While cursing yourself internally, you decided to take out your vent book out of your bag, only to be stopped by Mr. Dimmy once more.

“[Y/N]. Can you please answer the question on the board for me, please?”

Shit, you just opened your bag.

“Give me a moment-“

“[Y/N].”

Clenching your fists, you gave a plastic smile. It was understandable where he was coming from, since he didn’t want his star pupil to daydream for the second time.

“My bad, Sir. Hopefully I’ll get this right.”

As you were busy solving the equation, Marka decided to do you a favor and close up your bag. So by the time you came back, Marka grinned, hoping for a thanks to come out of it. But you decided to ignore the kind gesture, continuing to pay attention to the board. You had enough attention for one day.

◈

If there was one thing you loved, it was clocks. It was nice to know how the time passed, whether it was rapid or abnormally slow. And of course, it was slow.

“[Y/N], this has happened on multiple occasions.” Mr. Dimmy rubbed his temples, exhausted from having the same conversation with you. “We, as staff, made it clear that you can take days off.”

“I’m very sorry Sir, but I can’t do that-“

“[Y/N], enough with the excuses. You are not enough getting enough sleep, and it’s affecting your concentration.”

Scores, talents, personas: nothing on this conversation applied to that. Kindness was a pain in the ass.

“And so, I’m going to ask the dean to personally give you a suspension. A whole week suspension.”

You had to hold your tongue. Why do you have to do triple the work???

“Sir. I’m behind on what I need to cover. I’m begging you, please just let it slide.”

“But [Y/N], you are three weeks ahead. Taking a week off is enough right now. Trust me.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 9:47, the minute hand approximately reaching the next minute.

“If I see you Tuesday afternoon, I will personally escort you outside. That is all.”

Rubbing your eyes, you ran to the top of the stairs, before making yourself out. You couldn’t believe what just happened.

“[Y]-[Y/N]…” It was Heidi.

“Heidi. I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Text me later if you’re curious.” Your demands were quick and stern.

Poor Heidi snuggled her books, her expression shaping into pity and guilt. If only you could just take a break.

◈

“Giggles, after giggles. These fucking cuches don’t know when to quit it, don’t they?”

“Markaaaa…” She snorted, sounding exactly just like he called her: a pig. “Teach me a little Spanish, no?~ ❤️”

Marka shook his head, his face clearly showing discomfort.

“Come on, we wanna hear it! Maybe we can fuck it up, you know?”

Damn that Rico bastard. He never knew how to read a room.

“I said no.” Marka ran his fingers through his bangs, revealing the swirling darkness within his eyes. “Now learn to be good little shits, I’m in a bad mood.”

Immediately, the entire group stood completely still. Before seconds later, horrifying shrieks escaped people’s lips. Some froze in horror, sweating profusely. Others just ran away from Marka, while some fought with him. Luckily, thanks to his physique he could handle his attackers pretty clearly.

“Ha…shame…” He continued to hit Rico with every punch, starting to see blood oozing out of him. Marka couldn’t help but grin in sadistic glee. “This hypnosis is always pure luck for me.”

Grabbing the leg of one of his classmates. Marka twisted, fractured, and even jumped on her leg, which was perfectly in sync with his words.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Marka cursed out loud, growling in frustration. Every time he thought about you, the feeling wouldn’t go away. “I just wanted to do a good deed. Why. Won’t. They. Love. Me.”

Hearing the classmate’s sharp cry, Marka kicked the person away from him, heading to your locker. It was encased in a shitload of locks, all of them personally made by yourself. You knew how to be efficient and useful.

Too bad Marka knew lockpicking a bit too well. “It’s been a while since my last rejection…so let’s see what’s here now-“

With a clink, he guided his fingers to first few letters he made….only to find them….

Crushed.

“….”

He should’ve been used to this by now. The dust, the grime, the dead spiders. After finally getting a fresh new locker, it was understandable that you cleaned up the space.

But you didn’t. You decided to make your old locker your new dumpster bag instead - including his love letters.'

His scarred thumb clutched the pink envelope, or the crushed up ball that it was. He could remember the time he had to go off on business, missing college for an entire week. He had to stay low due to a shot out, which resulted him gaining a major injury in the shoulder and his left hand. He didn’t mind the injuries due to past experiences, but he was…depressed. Marka couldn’t see anyone, neither be online lest he got found out. It was a decision that both he and José made for his safety.

And so, to satiate his loneliness, he wrote to you. Even though his left hand was twitching in pain, he wrote. Even though his brain was telling him to stop because of the pain; he wrote. He wrote because he knew that you gave him the happiness, the hope that he needed for this world. Yes, you were flawed…but with each other, the two of you could heal one another’s scars. Right?

“….Ha….”

His hands shook in silent rage as dark droplets dropped on to the paper. I’m sure you didn’t know any better, it was simply a misunderstanding. Yes, yes - it was miscommunication.

It was understandable, since he didn’t make it clear. He didn’t flirt with you since it wasn’t your thing. I guess the letters weren’t either.

Maybe he’d have to try something…a bit more drastic.

“I need to know…do they love me…? Do they not? Maybe….”

Clutching the paper in his chest, he started chuckling to himself. No, grinning madly as he stared at the locker in front of him, his face contorted into something twisted and grotesque.

“Maybe it’s time I should pay your house a visit, hmm? ❤️~.”

NOTES:

Cuche = Means pig in Salvadorian slang. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ qᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ, ᴊᴏsᴇ́ ᴏʀ ʜᴇɪᴅɪ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello, i have some request for you. Can you make Sin-ha x fem!reader, where Sin-ha confesses his feelings to fem!reader that he has kept to himself for months? Thank you ❤️❤️

sorryyyy this took me so long but I hope you still enjoy 🤍🫶

Confession of love in the dying sun

Pairing: Shin-Ah x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You always admired him from afar, never once thought about the possibility that the blue dragon might hide the same feelings you try to cover up. Until you find yourself right next to him at sunet...

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff for all my starved bbys out there, Hak is Hak lol

The quiet rustling of leaves fills the air as you sit beside Shin-Ah, the forest around you bathed in soft golden light.

Oh, how much you’ve missed this peace and freedom. Since the day you stumbled upon Shin-Ah, your life was filled with nothing but dread, anxiety, and fleeing. When was the last time you were able to rest against a tree to get caressed by sunlight? You can’t put a finger on it. But what makes this day even more special is a certain someone right next to you.

You glance at him, noting the usual calm in his expression - masked eyes fixed on the horizon, mouth unreadable, pale skin almost glowing in the rays of sun. He's always been a mystery, a gentle shadow by your side you enjoyed since meeting him in that cave. But today, there's a tension in the silence between you, thick enough to stir your heartbeat.

"You’ve been quiet," you begin, nudging his shoulder gently.

He doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tightening slightly around the hilt of his sword resting across his lap. Then, without looking at you, he speaks.

“I’ve been holding something in… for a long time.”

Your breath catches. There's a weight in his voice that makes your chest tighten, an unknown depth to his words. Shin-Ah was never one to speak about his feelings, always hid himself well behind that mask. Is it because both of you grew closer and closer over those past weeks, because he saved your life back then in that cave?

“I didn’t know if it was okay to say it. I didn’t want to make things strange between us,” he continues, his voice lower now, vulnerable in a way you've never heard before.

“But it’s been months, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it.”

You turn to face him fully, heart pounding. He finally meets your eyes, and though the mask covers half his face, the intensity in his gaze pins you in place. This almost sounds like a…confession.

No. It can’t be. Why would someone like him fall for an average girl like you? Not when Yona is around all the time, not when he’s bound to her by blood. Surely, he talks about something else-

“I care about you,” he finally admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I think about you constantly - when we’re fighting, when we’re resting, even when it’s quiet like this. And I’ve tried to bury it, but it won’t go away.”

He hesitates, as if fearing your reaction.

“I love you.”

The world seems to still for a moment - only the soft breeze moving through the trees dares to make a sound.

He loves you.

Shin-Ah just told you that he…loves you.

Your chest feels like exploding any given minute, your limbs failing to work while you can’t help but stare at his mask with glossy eyes.

“I don’t expect anything,” he murmurs.

“I just needed you to know.”

You stare at him, still too stunned to really speak, waiting for the part where he tells you all of this is a joke. Truth is, you were never able to keep your mind off him as well, always pondering about the thoughts behind his mask, admiring him from afar fully aware of the fact that he’ll never be yours truly.

The silence stretches, but not uncomfortably. Just... full. Full of emotions you weren’t ready to face, but maybe always knew were there. Oh, if he only knew. If he only knew how many times you’ve watched him sleep. If he only knew how you enjoyed those precious little moments with only him and you. If he only knew how often you almost blurted out those same words.

I love you.

Shin-Ah loves you.

“I…”Your voice catches, and you swallow hard, trying again. This is not the time to feel ashamed.

“I’ve wondered if you felt something. You’re always so quiet, but… the way you look at me. The way you always make sure I’m safe, even if it means putting yourself at risk.”

He doesn’t speak, just watches you, still and tense, like the smallest movement might shatter the moment.

Your heart is racing now, but your voice is steady.

“I care about you too, Shin-Ah. A lot. And I think… I think I was scared to say anything. Scared I was just imagining it.”

He blinks, once, slowly, his expression behind that mask unreadable, but his breath seems to catch.

You smile, soft and a little shaky.

“But I’m not imagining it, am I?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“No,” he mutters.

“You’re not.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand over his while taking his mask off with the other.

“Then… I’m glad you told me. Because I don’t want to keep pretending either.”

For a long moment, he just stares at your hand over his, gorgeous ocean-deep eyes lost in the way your fingers look intertwined with his.

Then he lifts his gaze back to yours - gentle, adoring, like you’ve just given him the entire sky.

“I’ve waited months to hear that,” he admits softly.

And in the stillness of the forest, with the last light of day sinking behind the trees, Shin-Ah smiles. Delicately, way too tender for anyone else to see. To be honest, you’ve never seen him smile like this, his eyes gleaming with nothing but love. You don’t dare to open your mouth, don’t dare to break the silence with even a movement of your limbs.

The silence between you is no longer heavy - it’s warm now, filled with something warm and new. Shin-Ah’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling gently around yours as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t squeeze it.

You lean in slightly, just enough for your shoulder to brush his, bare skin feeling like burning alive by the sheer touch.

Now or never.

“You can kiss me,” you whisper, barely audible.

“If you want.”

His breath hitches. You see it in the rise of his chest, the slight widening of his eyes behind the mask. Slowly, cautiously, he lifts his free hand and brushes his fingertips along your cheek, as though still unsure this moment is real.

To be honest, you weren’t kissed before. Not truly, not with intention, not by someone who looked at you with the same affection in his gaze. You always wondered what it might feel like, to be loved by someone you love as well, to feel his lips pressed against yours.

Then he leans in.

The kiss is soft - hesitant at first, like a question. His lips are warm, gentle, and respectful, like he’s memorizing the feel of you. You close your eyes, leaning into him, and he deepens it just a little, just enough to let you feel everything he’s held back for so long.

You can’t help but allow your arms to wrap around his neck, to feel him just a little closer. Oh, countless nights you imagined this exact moment, always telling yourself that it’ll never become reality. And now, Shin-Ah is holding you right between his arms while kissing you tenderly with the last rays of sunshine illuminating the scene

.When you pull apart, barely a breath away from each other, you feel your heart thudding in your chest, wild and content all at once.

And that’s when a voice breaks the spell.

“Well, well, well,” Hak drawls from somewhere behind you.

“What do we have here?”

You both jump, startled. You turn your head so fast you nearly knock into Shin-Ah’s shoulder. There stands Hak, arms crossed, smirking like a cat who’s just found your secret stash.

“Really, Shin-Ah? Months of silent brooding and this is how you break the tension? In the middle of the forest, no less?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Shin-Ah doesn’t respond. He just stares at Hak silently, though you swear you see the faintest tinge of red creeping up his neck.

Hak glances at you, his grin widening.

“I guess I’m happy for you two. But next time, give a guy some warning before I walk in on what looks like the final scene of some romance novel.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hak - seriously?”

He laughs, loud and unbothered, already turning back toward the path.

“C’mon, lovebirds. Try not to make out too loudly behind me.”

You glance back at Shin-Ah, both of you caught between embarrassment and laughter. Then, shyly, you reach for his hand again - and he takes it, lacing your fingers together as if he’s never letting go.

[maelove1819]

Harry’s Trip To Fortescue’s || Microfic 1,867 Words

Harry was sure that when he stepped into The Leaky and saw the minister, his wand would be immediately snapped. He was surprised to see that not only was he forgiven, he wasn’t even being punished or made to go back to the Dursleys! He had thanked whatever God out there for that one. Uncle Vernon would beat him into next century if he saw Harry any time soon.

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions. Aunt Marge was talking bad about his mother, the only woman who had ever been kind to him. Showed him unconditional love, gave her life for his. So he would not apologize or be sorry.

The minister had told him that there was a madman after him. A man who was supposed to be his godfather, but had sold his parents out to Voldemort. Which was quite irritating to listen to. If anything, staying in Diagon Alley wouldn’t provide protection. It would just make it easier for him to be kidnapped or killed by the man.

But Harry would take what he was given. He smiled and thanked him. He put his things away and got his homework out. Then with his newfound freedom, he did the thing any thirteen year old would love to do. He went to the Ice Cream Parlor.

Walking in, he was greeted by a middle aged man, with a slight gap in his teeth and straw blonde hair. He wore it up in a ponytail with a hairnet over it. He had kind eyes that bore straight into his soul. Like the man could see exactly what Harry had been through. The man smiled at him anyway.

Harry walked up to the counter, timidly holding his essays and his last few Galleons.

“What can I get for you, Topolino?” He asked as he sat his work down, giving Harry his undivided attention.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I’ve never had ice cream before. I was just hoping for a place to do my homework. I don’t really want to be alone right now. Dudley’s favorite is that rainbow colored one though. It always smelled nice.” Harry started fiddling with his fingers and not looking him in the eye.

The man seemed to ponder Harry for a minute, then he tutted and turned to grab a bowl.

“Alrighty kiddo. Why don’t you just grab a seat, or you could come sit with me behind the counter, and I’ll sow you how to make a chocolate sundae. Would you like that?” He smiled at Harry as the child nodded. Then he sat on a stool and watched as the man made a chocolate sundae.

“My name is Harry.” He picked up a quill to work on his divination essay.

“Mine is Florean Fortescue. It’s nice to meet you.” He scoops a large ball of vanilla ice cream and plopped it in the bowl.

“Nice to meet you too.” Harry responded politely, watching him scoop another.

Harry turns back to his homework, but after a few minutes of staring at the parchment, willing anything to write, he sighs and places his hands above his head, scratching his left pinky.

“Say, why does a child who looks to be thirteen never enter an ice cream parlor before today?” Florean mused as he handed a malt to another customer.

“When I was eleven, I was too busy admiring the fact that I was a wizard to want ice cream. And then when I was twelve I accidentally ended up in Knockturn Alley. Besides the Weasleys were on a time limit. I didn’t want to bother them. I don’t think I had enough for any ice cream after anyway.” Harry places his quill down to watch Florean go back to the sundae.

Florean paused for a second, but then put sprinkles on the ice cream, then chocolate syrup, and a cherry. Then he turned and handed it to Harry.

“Thank you sir, how much do I owe you?” Florean waved him off.

“That’s on the house. I put the sprinkles on before the chocolate sauce. I can’t sell that. Just enjoy it kiddo so you can get your homework done.” Florean walked over to the sink and started washing dishes.

“Thank you sir.” Harry turned back to his parchment, writing only ‘Palm reading is a basic form of fortune telling,’ before giving up and turning back to Florean.

“Do you know who Sirius Black is?” This made Florean drop a cup back in the sink.

“Yes, we used to have interloping friend groups in Hogwarts.” Harry watched him take a few breaths.

“So you went to Hogwarts with my parents?” Harry was just a ball of excitement. No one ever told him much about his parents. Mostly just told him how he was like his father.

“Lily was one of my friends. James and his little group, not so much. They didn’t much care for Slytherins.” Florean waved a soapy hand around.

“You’re a Slytherin?” Harry’s face twisted in a little confusion.

“Yep, was a year above Sirius’ little brother. Was quite close to him and his friends.” Florean sighed as he looked back on his school days.

“Really? Were you and my mother good friends?” Harry walked over to him and picked up the soapy dishes and started rinsing them.

“We weren’t the best of friends, no that title went to Emmeline Vance. A Hufflepuff in our year. But I knew her well enough to tell you that I already see a lot of her in you. My twin sister was a better friend to Lily. I wish she could tell you more.” At his words Harry looked at the man with huge doe eyes.

“Really? Everyone tells me that I have my mother’s eyes. But that’s all they ever say about her. They don’t tell me anything else. Just that she was the smartest witch of her generation.” The boy was practically vibrating, but he still rinsed the dishes.

“Lily was smart, that’s for sure. But the only thing that set her apart from anyone else was her common sense. See, being muggleborn she had an outside look on life most of us didn’t get.

“And you don’t just have Lily’s eyes, you have her mannerisms. She used to bite the end of her quill when thinking. She also had chapped lips from sticking her tongue out when working with her hands. She would also set her hands on top of her head and scratch her left pinky with her right hand. Odd trait, but you have it.”

“Wow… Do you know why everyone says Sirius Black is hunting me?” Florean sighed before answering.

“I don’t believe he’s after you, Topolino. Sirius Black considers the Potters his family. Got disowned and gave up everything for them. He wouldn’t turn them over like that. He’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. If he’s back, he’s not looking for you.” He places a soapy hand on Harry’s head.

“That’s a relief. You said you were in Slytherin? How come you’re scooping ice cream and not a death eater?” Harry pushes the soapy hand off of his head.

“Slytherins weren’t the only followers of You-Know-Who. I know several Gryffindors who followed him, along with people from the other houses. Regulus Black was one, but he saw through it. He died betraying You-Know-Who. Most of the Slytherins who joined him were forced my parents who went to school with him.”

“But Hagrid told me that there wasn’t a wizard in that house that didn’t go bad, and Malfoy’s a right prat.” Florean scoffed at Harry’s words.

“Hagrid is a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? He was one. A Slytherin, I mean. And that Malfoy fellow, why do you think he’s a right prat?”

“Well, it started in first year, we were getting fitted for our school robes, and he insulted Hagrid. Hagrid saved me from the Dursleys and that hurt. But then on the train he insulted my first ever friend. So when tried to shake my hand, I told him no thanks.” Harry waved his arms around in frustration.

“Ooh, see? I’ve found your problem. There is a lot of undue hate towards impure people in amongst the pure bloods. I’m not saying it’s correct, but he was eleven. He was probably repeating something his father said.

“But you’re true problem is when you turned away his hand. In your culture, it is okay to turn away someone’s hand that you don’t like. But here, you can’t do that. Especially among young heirs. You essentially told him to get out of your face, you’re better than him. Your magical guardian should have taught you customs. Harry, the things you said have me thinking. Did you know you were a wizard before Hogwarts?”

“No sir, Hagrid told me when he came to pick me up to take me to Diagon Alley.” Florean sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is a problem. I’ll take you to Gringotts after I close up shop for the night. When do you have to be back with your guardians?”

“Not until next summer, sir.” This startled Florean. There was no one watching this child while they think a murderer is targeting him?

“So there is no one watching you?”

“No sir, I’m staying at the Leaky.”

Before Florean can respond to that, Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood enter the store. Luna stops to stand beside Harry while Xeno leans in and kisses Florean. Harry stops and stares at them.

“Wait, you can do that?” Harry asks, voice full of confusion.

“Do what?” Florean turned toward Harry once more. Xeno still holding onto his hips.

“Two men can kiss?” Harry looks at Luna, who just nods.

“Two men can do more than just kiss. They can get married too.” Florean and Xeno hold up their green and blue wedding bands.

“And it doesn’t make you a freak?” This makes Florean’s heart stop in his throat.

“Salazar no! Who told you that?” Florean places a hand over his heart.

“Uncle Vernon. He says Wizards and The Gays and cripples are all freaks. He says I’m a freak.” Luna places her hands on Harry’s shoulders, rubbing in small circles.

“Oh dear. Harry, you aren’t a freak. You will never be a freak.” Florean places both his hands on the side of Harry’s face. Rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks.

“But-”

“Harry, our mothers dated for years in Hogwarts. Our mothers aren’t freaks.” Luna states, less dreamily than normal.

“No they aren’t. So it’s not bad if I feel that way?” Luna rubs her nose on his cheek.

“No, that’s perfectly normal.” She turns and spins away. Grabbing Harry’s melting sundae and proceeds to eat it.

“I finished up early at The Quibbler. Do you want me to watch your shop for you? Luna said you needed an extra long lunch break.” Xeno walked over and started washing the dishes. Florean turned back to Harry.

“Okay, Topolino. I am not comfortable leaving you in England’s biggest shopping district by yourself. Would you mind staying with me and my family?” He asks as Harry nods his approval.

Heya! If you made it this far, thank you for reading. This is for you, @yourlocalbadgerscales just like ya asked for. Promised you it’s be done by tonight and I delivered! I might make this my first chapter, but I’m better at typing on a computer than my phone. Also, Tumblr deleted my writing, like three times! So I wrote it on google docs. Anyway, Florean didn’t outright say it, but his Twin sister is Alice. He looks just like Neville. Also, I decided that he was going to take Harry under his wing. We need more Marauders Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins (in the marauder’s year) so a Ravenclaw Xeno and a Slytherin Fortescue. I am so excited! Please reblog so this becomes a popular marauders-cannon!

[nanfrost]

A dive into Vertin's core aspect of her character and it's impact through the story: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Matilda and Vertin

It's important to note that despite everything, Matilda and Vertin are good friends. 

Matilda had the same aspirations as Vertin did as children: the freedom of self expression in spite of being raised to abandon those values; to know their world around them than to just learn from the textbooks.

However, what sets them apart is that Matilda willingly chose to join the white marble.

What sets them apart is the extent they’re willing to go to achieve that, and how they help people at their positions.

What sets them apart is how they handle their own inner struggle.

Matilda finds Vertin, who is in a miserable state, utterly unresponsive to the people around her because Sonetto is no longer around.

In just a day, the girl had already reverted back to being a mess, a sight that shocks Matilda greatly, but also pity for the girl who she respected a lot as a friend and classmate.

Sonetto had already given her the lengthy details, but seeing it for herself still leaves a pit in Matilda’s stomach. It was awful, how low Vertin had let herself be.

Yet somehow, Matilda feels determined, approaching her old friend as she tries to talk to her.

It doesn’t work of course, Vertin doesn’t even look like she seems to acknowledge the girl’s presence. This is what Sonetto was fearing, that without her, Vertin has no one she can open herself to, no one she could vent her pain to, no one she can let herself be broken fully towards.

It’s almost painful in a way, that even though Vertin is as much of a mess as she is, she still hides herself away from others, to not trouble them in having to deal with her. Even though it only makes people more worried, Vertin refuses to let anyone in, to know the full extent of her pain.

If Matilda was similar to Sonetto, she would likely try to find comfort for her in any way, to try to be an emotional pillar for Vertin. But that was nigh impossible, she didn't know Vertin as long as Sonetto did, didn’t understand her as much as Sonetto does.

And besides, she isn't Sonetto anyways.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Matilda doesn’t know Vertin as well as Sonetto does, so she doesn’t know what would be the best way to help Vertin. But she is more perceptive than she lets on.

“Not of others, but yourself. You’re terrified to let people in, because you don’t want them to bother having to worry over you. To not have to deal with you. For them to not have to care about you.”

Matilda can’t be like Sonetto, a girl too kind, too caring and too sweet to ever be harsh or direct on people she cares about, especially Vertin. But she is kind in her own ways too.

“Sonetto is worried sick for you, I don’t know if you knew that or not. But if you do, then get up. Get up and let me help you do something about it.”

Vertin, although surprised, didn’t respond. But even so, the girl still stands, following Matilda lifelessly, for as miserable as she was, a part of her also understood just how much trouble she was placing on Sonetto. How much of a burden it must be to care for someone like her. 

She feels sick of herself for doing that to her partner, and so she follows Matilda, to see if there’s something she could do.

But what can Matilda do? What does she even have that Sonetto doesn’t? How can she help Vertin when Sonetto, the person closest to her, couldn't even do that?

She can’t.

Of course Matilda can’t. They were only friends and not even close ones, it would be completely arrogant of her to think she could do anything for Vertin.

So instead, she will get Vertin to help herself, by using her divination skills and her own perceptive nature to guide the girl to her own answers.

Matilda drags Vertin’s inner thoughts out and lays it bare for her, forcing her to confront those memories and the regrets she holds within her mind. Some bad, some very bad, and all of it still hurts to this day as she constantly relieves them.

At first, Vertin is bombarded with toxic and painful thoughts of herself, but it’s through Matilda’s words and guidance that Vertin starts to see things a bit more clearly. By having Matilda offering her perspective, Vertin can see the events in a more objective manner.

Vertin had kept all these events warped against her. She wanted every reason to hate herself and so her memories were altered to fit into that narrative, to make it easier to put the blame on her and solely her. But Matilda will not let that happen, she will offer her own insights and keep Vertin from spiralling out of control.

Eventually, they do make progress, as Vertin starts to understand that she wasn’t responsible for everything. That there were things completely out of her control and she shouldn’t, couldn’t have known better. She was only trying her best in her own ways, even if it didn’t turn up well. 

But the catalyst that got Vertin to even begin to accept this was Matilda, for through her conversation with her, did Vertin start to notice something in her that she never before. Something that gave her a sense of comfort, knowing she isn’t alone; something that they both share in common.

They are both selfless individuals.

Vertin gave herself up to help those around her, disregarding her own safety and agency if it means the people around her can make it out safe. She has no inherent sense of worth, only existing to help others as a way to bring meaning to her life.

Matilda gave her life to her studies, her academics and for the constant grind to become the very best, to stand at the top amongst the top. She does it so she can be acknowledged by the people around her, so that she can convince herself that she is meaningful, that she has meaning, that she can help.

Her constant drive to better herself is so she could feel like she is useful, to feel like she matters, to feel like she can help anyone in need.

Her sense of value comes from other people’s perception of her, and she will go to great lengths to prove that she can be useful. She exists to be helpful to those around her, for her value comes from their perception of her.

The way they go about it may be different, but Vertin and Matilda share this trait between themselves. They were mirrors of one another, reflecting both ends of the extreme. And because of that, Vertin learned to trust the girl more, to start opening herself up for she now understands that the girl truly does sympathize with her, at least somewhat.

Finally, after a long and gruelling journey of unwinding all the events in her head, Vertin comes face to face with the thing that represents all her insecurities, all her doubts, all her hatred and pain that she has kept within her for years until now.

Vertin faces herself, the one that started it all.

Gazing at the girl that represented Vertin’s biggest regrets and mistakes. The girl who had wronged so many lives because of her own naivety and unwillingness to look past herself.

She admits to herself that after everything, Vertin still cannot forgive her. She can’t forgive the girl for what she had done, for the people she had lost, for the trust she had broken and for the mistakes she had foolishly wrought over and over. 

She admits that the girl was stupid, blinded by her own short-sighted and naive views on the world that caused others to suffer because of it. She admits that the things she has caused can never be erased, that the pain will never fade away no matter the decades that pass by.

And yet, Vertin admits that there is more to the girl, that in spite of all the bad she had done, some of it was good. 

The girl had saved lives, gave others a reason to keep going, gave others hope and the conviction to follow their own hearts and even became the reason for others to put their faith and trust and love in, because they truly believed in the girl, placing their hopes and faiths into her goal, but above all, because they genuinely cared about her.

Vertin admits it, she admits that she does not know if she could keep walking a straight path, that she would never make a horrible mistake again like she had done before. That she wouldn’t one way or another lose the most precious things to her, that she won’t falter and break again. 

But she has hope.

Because in spite of everything, there is still someone who loves her. And for that, she wants to have hope, to hold onto it as tightly as she could. 

Hope that through them and through her crew, she won’t fall back into her old ways, that she won’t break again. 

Hope that someday, maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a long long time, but someday; she can learn to like herself a little more.

With that, Vertin finally concludes her session with Matilda, thanking the girl for what she has done. But most of all, she acknowledges that the two of them are alike, going through something similar albeit still very different ends of the spectrum; but if the girl ever needs help, she is willing to be there for her.

Vertin’s selfless nature never disappears, and it likely won’t ever.

Because that is who she is at her heart, a girl who cares far too much to ever let other’s lives sifted away. But she will try to include herself this time, to find things about herself that she can like, to learn to place a bit more value on herself, even if it will never be above others. For she now understands that there are those who care far too much to let the blazing life that is Vertin's soul fade away as well.

Her friends, her crew, her family has always welcomed her, yet she has always kept herself distant from them. She did it because she didn’t want to hurt them, and didn't want them to get too involved with her where they would inevitably get hurt by her. All because she fears that she might lose them again, that because of her, she will lose those precious to her once more.

But now, she is willing to knock on the door of that familiar home, to let herself be welcomed in, an invitation that has always been open to her. To meet their happy and warm gazes with her own. To let herself be not the Timekeeper, but just Vertin, a scared yet hopeful girl.

Reconnecting with friends:

Eventually, Vertin will gradually start being open again to her team, Slowly but surely, she’ll start taking the time to interact with them more and properly communicate with them on her own without an emotional crutch or trying too hard to keep up with a facade.

Vertin is willing to be vulnerable to those around her in spite of still harbouring doubts about herself, letting her thoughts and emotions be known to those that she cares about, and who Vertin also gradually starts to accept that they care about her too. 

After reuniting with Sonetto again, being surrounded by all the people she has grown so close to in just a short few months, Vertin laughs. 

A laugh filled with regret, sadness and underlying pain that she can’t ever forget; but also filled with joy and relief and happiness. That after so many years, Vertin finally feels like she belongs, to feel like she can belong in a family she can call her own again. 

She regrets that it took her so many mistakes, so many bad choices and so many lives lost just for her to finally reach this point, that resentment towards herself still clings to her every step of the way.

But Vertin has found hope again.

She has hope that if she continues the path she is now, to continue walking along with her new-found family and to rely on them just as they rely on her, to find the worth in herself that she refused to admit she has for so long; that one day, she can look at herself in the mirror, and smile at the girl she had become.

And that is how Vertin’s character development might look to us. At the very least, if the game goes towards focusing on her selflessness a bit more throughout the story. 

For those that read all the way to the end, we hope you enjoyed it. It’s a very self-indulgent analysis that we have been obsessed with for a week, and it took many tiring nights to get to this point. But this was our way of showing our love and appreciation for the character that is Vertin, and so no matter where the story will take her after this point, no matter how absolutely wrong we are in predicting her story(which I have zero doubts we very are wrong lmao), it would be a story that we would eagerly await all the same.

With that, I shall be signing off. I will keep rambling on, until we meet again.

[monebula-art]

Yknow I’m gonna rant about something rq. Maybe a bad take but just 👀👀👀 hear me out.

EDIT: this is legit just a saucy rant it’s not meant to cast blame on anyone and I love both Astarion’s because I find the character progressions and options for both Spawn and Ascended to be equally juicy with their own things to unpack. Every player has the freedom to choose and experience the adventures however they want to. These are legit just. My ramblings in amidst some hate brakes on Ascended that I wanted to shout into the void about. It’s not a dissertation. If anything this is just a ‘What if after the End’ kind of scenario that’s been tumbling around in my head. That’s it.

People give Ascended Astarion a bad rap, but like lemme cook for a smidge. If you stick with him. If you support and love him, sure he’s a little power hungry and arrogant and the power of being the Ascended gets to his head a little.

But like, he mentions going traveling. Seeing the world with you. Maybe for decades, for CENTURIES even. Just the two of you seeing all the world has to offer. He’s spent two hundred years+ STUCK in Baldur’s Gate. His love is no bougie noble who must travel in a carriage. And in fact I’d think a Tav or Durge would insist against it. They would travel like they used to. Like people do. (And famous words that tamed the most notorious of vampires was ‘Travel like people do, you might like it~’)

I think that time would eventually change Astarion back to who he was on track to being before he Ascended. Aka ‘Spawn Astarion’. Seeing the world from a ground perspective. Not above it, alongside it. Having a Tav/Durge who is grounded.

Once his little power trip has run its course, I think he’d mellow out. It might take a decade or two. But he’s got LITERAL ETERNITY to address his hurt. And with a loyal and loving Tav/Durge by his side, being his support and his compass how could he stay lost for long? Like think about it.

Who says yall can’t rule a new nation of Vampires? Who’s to say a world where Vampires can become a diplomatic SOCIETY that can coexist beside other mortals? A world where blood isn’t stolen or taken, but given freely by willing offerers. Where spawn are created to serve by their choice and not stolen out of the night with ultimatums to be slaves??? Where a bite from a vampire doesn’t mean a life of servitude or a death sentence??? Yknow??? Kinda like y’all’s romance first started????

Imagine a Tav who is so passionate about changing THEIR nation, that they build a dream where tormented slave spawns like Astarion and wretched monsters like Cazador don’t EVER HAVE TO EXIST.

And at the top they get to rule it all together. The king and queen of a new nation, a new age of vampires out of the shadows. Where they are beloved and revered and ok maybe a little bit feared, yknow? Rulership is hard.

Tell me in a few decades Astarion wouldn’t be all over that shit. With a dedicated partner, they could guide that ambition of his into something TRULY AMAZING. Like how is no one seeing the POTENTIAL? They swear he’s trash, like he wasn’t totally hanging on you before. Like he doesn’t revere you like the sun as his consort. His treasure??? His love, who he sees and desires eternity with? He’s not just keeping you around for shits n giggles. Like he doesn’t have compassion for people that just because he makes a fucked up choice(one that lowkey you helped him make so if you wanna be like ‘Oh but the 7000 lives!’ Like you made that decision with him. I mean. It was a shitty decision and if you fail the roll you fail the role that isn’t on you. I can get that thinking the Ascendant route is the best course and getting more than you bargained for. And I’ll concede, he’s INSUFFERABLY arrogant. But that’s just one choice in a long line of, really ONLY having fucked up choices to begin with???….. every body has done some irredeemable shit. Not saying you can’t condemn Astarion for that, plenty of the characters already do. But like… you don’t have to??? The lesson was keep living and live better. It’s the only way to make up for the misery and suffering.

He opened up to you once. Permitted your probing, even when it pissed him off. He learned to love you because of that. The power got to his head a little and he’s using that as a substitute coping mechanism for shit he still hasn’t dealt with. It’s fresh. It’s a very open wound he’s trying not to show.

It’ll pass sooner or later. And he’ll have to start healing. That’s why he has YOU. That’s why you stay.

Both Ascended and Spawn say they are with you, if you choose to go down the dark road and embrace your destiny as Durge. Both of them are with you no matter how bloody or deplorable or immoral it gets. Spawn isn’t just suddenly this sweet innocent with a peerless moral compass just because he decided not to ascend. Their dialogue is exactly the same. He’s still THERE and he’s still with his darling.

Miss me with that Ascended is irredeemable but Spawn did nothing wrong. They’re both equally happy to stab someone just for funsies. One hopped on the healing track sooner, that’s it. Abandoning Ascended Astarion right after his ascension just cuz you don’t like how he got a little intense about it is like GUARANTEEING he becomes a bitter and sadistic tyrant. Comparing him to Cazador so soon after he just ended that chapter but has yet to actually DEAL with the chapter mentally or emotionally is an interesting choice, but like… idk a lil wild from my perspective I guess.

You handled him with honesty, trust and patience all up until now, but suddenly he gets a little spooky and you back out? Seems to me like someone is just scared of his power now that he ain’t weaker than you anymore and needs to be protected hm??? Now he can actually fuck you up if he wanted and instead of embracing that with him some of yall wanna be like ‘Oh well now you’re the monster you always hated’.

Grow uuuuup. Make him worse? Make him better??

It has to get worse BEFORE it gets better. That’s how improvement works. It’s everyone’s personal choice to stick with him or bail. I don’t think either choice is a wrong one is all I’m saying. If you’re all in for him, and his mess, and sticking with him for the evil, or even to see if in some aftersotry imagining that time and wisdom eventually mellows him out a bit then cool~ I think that’s possible tbh?

If you think he’s too ‘abusive’ for you to stick with then feel free to end things. It doesn’t make him any less insufferable.

All I’m saying as someone who’s legit been in a few abusive relationships in the past— using possessive language and being manipulative and desperate for control is not a character trait that just appeared out of nowhere after Astarion Ascended. And some folks can just not like the path he took and wanna back out without outcrying a whole essay about why he’s now terrible and abusive and nobody should ever enjoy the Ascendant route. Is all I’m saying.

[strawberrymira]

I've been toying with headcanons about Zeus' reaction/behaviour when Hera tells him she's pregnant. I imagine he gets wildly overprotective (even more so than Hades, who is obsessive with security). Fun fact, Hera is also the most skilled pegasus rider on Olympus (she's had a white mare named Cirilla since the Titanomachy) and I just picture her jumping off cliffs for fun while Zeus sputters in the background. Thoughts?

Oh, don’t get me STARTED on cute domestic headcanons!! I blame this brainrot entirely on you lmao 🩷

Zeus is ABSOLUTELY protective as all hell as soon as he finds out Hera is pregnant— more than usual. Which is… already a bit much at times.

The first time around (right after their honeymoon) when Hera fell pregnant with Hephaestus, she figured it may just have been nerves since everything happened so fast and it was their first child.

…That was not the case. This has happened with every single pregnancy. No exceptions.

At first it's very manageable, with Hera gently reminding Zeus that she isn’t going to shatter to pieces at any given moment. …Until she begins to visibly show the pregnancy. And by then, there's no going back.

Zeus wouldn’t force anything, but he often insists that Hera do much less work than usual. “You have so many more important things to focus on, precious.” And honestly? As long as she can still do some work, Hera... doesn’t mind it, oddly enough. It’s one of the few times she’ll allow herself to rest properly, take breaks, and spend more time with her extended family.

..But generally, more time with family means more activities for Zeus to fret over his precious wife participating in.

Days long visits to stay with Demeter with little contact (unless Zeus sends Hermes to inquire) as the two reconnect and spend time enjoying the fruits of Demeter's labor. Usually with Hera returning with plenty of gifts from the earth to sate her pregnancy cravings and telling Zeus of the lovely meadows she would rest in as Demeter went about her work. (Demeter let Hera sleep the afternoons away in the open? She wasn't guarding her at all times?!)

Morning horseback rides with Poseidon that last hours as they disappear into the forest together, returning home laughing to themselves and telling of how they had whipped around a tight path so fast that Poseidon almost fell off his own horse and Hera nearly lost her veil in the commotion. (And Zeus had nearly had a heart attack hearing the story.)

And as much as Zeus trusts Hades out of all their siblings to protect Hera, his precious Queen insisting on visiting Hades in the underworld on a day Zeus is busy and unable to escort her personally is cause for near pitiful levels of worry.

Hermes is the one who hears the most of it, given he's near constantly by Zeus' side in any moment he's not actively zipping around to deliver messages. He honestly finds it quite sweet, if more than a bit amusing. ...And more than a bit exhausting, considering he's the one checking up on Hera on Zeus' behalf nearly every hour.

..Zeus would never want to stifle Hera's freedom, though. Not when he can see how deliriously happy she is spending her days this way. Not fretting over the duties of a queen, just... relaxing and doing as she pleases.

So all Zeus could do is breathe a sigh of relief once he had rushed to finish his work as early as possible, and returned to precisely where he knew Hera would be. Relaxing in her private garden, soaking up the last hours of sunlight and quietly humming to herself as she continued work on the tapestry she sketched out on the very night she came to realize they were expecting another child.

When Zeus lays down beside his Queen and wraps his arms around her, steeling himself for whatever answer may come as he inquires what she's gotten up to today, he at least feels secure that finally, every piece of him is together in one place.

[tobythewise]

toby!!!! so excited you're doing this uwu naturally gotta request fenders, anddd the dialogue prompt of “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” stood out to me <3

Thank you so much for this prompt! I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about it all week 🤣 I was super indecisive on how I wanted to go about it because part of me wanted to go full smut but instead I went head first into introspective fluff! I hope you enjoy! 💚

Written for @dadrunkwriting

Gentle, barely there fingers run down Anders’ spine and a shiver goes through him. His body is pleasantly sated, his mind practically blank for the first time since he can remember. He’s not sure if that’s because of the thorough fucking he just received or if it’s from being in the presence of Fenris’ lyrium but either way he feels content. He knows it won’t last but he plans to enjoy it while it’s here.

For once, he embraces the moment of quiet that’s meant just for him instead of planning his next underground mission or the next page of his manifesto. They’ll keep until tomorrow.

The fingers running along his back are soft as they trace the spattering of scars they find. There was a day that Anders used to be embarrassed by the scars left behind in his skin. He used to keep them hidden from Karl. He used to attempt to hide them while sleeping with other people, always keeping them under him instead of behind him. Now? Now he doesn’t see the need to hide, especially from Fenris who bears his own marks of past oppressors.

Anders still can’t believe he’s here, naked in Fenris’ bed. By the Maker, how did they end up here?

When Anders imagined this happening, it was always a heated arguement that instead of coming to blows, came to heated kisses. Or maybe a drunken mistake they’d both pretend never happened the next morning.

Instead, it was comfort given during a trying time. It was a slow build of trust. It was leaning on each other when the others around them didn’t quite understand what it meant to find freedom and then hold onto it so tight it hurts.

In the past, Anders fell quick. His affection would come fast and it would burn hot and bright. This time it took him by surprise, growing slowly over the span of years until it was a part of him, the same as breathing or the same as Justice inside him.

“May I ask you something?”

Anders turns his head slightly so he can look over at Fenris. He’s sitting beside Anders with his one leg curled up to his chest, the other laid out in front of him. He has one land on Anders’ back, tracing over his scars, the other outstretched on his knee. The blanket covers Anders’ ass and flows over Fenris’ groin. He looks so carefree like this, so much so that Anders feels tears spring to his eyes. By the Maker, he’s getting sappy in his old age.

“Anything.”

“You have thought of this, haven’t you?”

Anders looks away for a moment, biting back his first reaction. In the past he would have made a joke to break the tension or sent out sharp barbs to keep himself safe from being vulnerable. He doesn’t want to do that with Fenris. Letting out a long breath, his eyes meet Fenris’ once more.

“Yes,” he says honestly, daring to give Fenris a soft smile. “It’s almost embarrassing how often I’ve thought about this, about you. I would lay awake at night, aching for you.”

Anders stomach swoops at the sound of Fenris sucking in a harsh breath. Fenris’ hand on his back stills, his palm laying hot and heavy on one particular scar. A mark left behind from a knife into his back. That particular one coming after he was joined with Justice.

The moment stretches and Anders waits, for once staying just as still as Fenris.

As Fenris goes back to touching him, this time playing with the ends of Anders’ hair, he finally responds. “Don’t be embarrassed by your desires. We have earned our right to have them and embrace them.”

Anders smiles up at him, his chest warm with affection. There’s something beautiful about being with someone who understands the magnitude of moments like this.

He reaches over and wraps an arm around Fenris’ waist, forcing him to lay back. Then he flips over, hovering over Fenris. Not that long ago Fenris would have fought him, pushed him away, snarled in disgust. They’ve come so far.

“I’m in love with you. I’m not sure if you realize that,” Anders says softly, “but I want you to know.” He cups Fenris’ face, his thumb caressing his cheek.

“Why does it sound like there is a but coming?”

“You’ve suffered so much at the hands of mages. It feels wrong to bind you to me when I fight for the things I fight for.”

Fenris closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. This close, Anders can feel Fenris’ heart picking up speed.

“I knew your fight when I kissed you. My eyes are wide open. I know of your plight, mage. That did not stop me.” Fenris swallows thickly while Anders feels hope blossom inside his chest. “I would still have you, Anders. If there is a place for me at your side, that is where I want to be.”

Anders can’t stop his smile from spreading. He rests his forehead against Fenris’ for a moment before taking his lips in a fierce kiss.

There’s so much coming that Anders isn’t sure he’s prepared for. There’s a storm blooming and one way or another things have to change. Who better to change things than a man with a limited life thanks to the blight inside of him who also has a spirit of Justice inside of him?

But right now he doesn’t need to think about that. Right now he’s allowed to just be Anders.

[atgvnpoint]

Definitely something was going on between them, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust either Sofia or Angelo it was more of the fact that he was left in the dark about this “relationship” he had a right to know an perhaps Benny would disagree on this as he knows Angelo best, still he wanted to know in all its Spanish tradition, bringing home the guy you are dating and marrying. Just like he did to what Benny at the start, Ludo brought his husband to Sofia, why couldn’t this happen with her? “ Angelo is decent guy, I only know certain things you tend to spill for me about him.” He stated. “ I know it seems I’m making this a big deal but it is, I don’t want Angelo forgetting Sofia is alone despite how dysfunctional things are between Amaru and I. And trust me it’ll take me a long while for me to even regaining what little trust I had towards him.” Ludovic wanted to throw this out there just to have his husband know he stood with Amaru at this moment. 

Looking at pollito their son who seemed so excited when he heard Sofia, and Ludo knew why. She fed him all natural ingredients from scratch, fresh lean meats and veggies straight from her garden. He smiled at his pup who immediately went to retrieve his leash so fast. “Babe, don’t take all that cheese. Now you got our son hyper. Sofia will add that to his big meal when we get there.” An annoyed sound came from ludo’s lips, when will everyone listen cheese is given to his pup in moderation, not as a treat. “ you can’t trust me can you? Cant blame you besides I don’t want to go alone. I might do something I regret.” As he waited for Benny to wrap things up, pollito waited for them at the door with his leash between his teeth, wagging his tail impatiently at he looked at their direction. Ludo however made sure to snag his pups favorite blanket that has already been washed and dried. 

Benny had this thing where he threw that name around as if it didn’t do anything to ludo, Hazel hues stared at the other once he finally had everything in the bag. “You want to hurt me so bad don’t you, calling me papi as if it doesn’t make me hard. Consider yourself lucky babe.” His features expressed so much frustration as they headed out, pollito was calm if the pup knew better not to bolt out the driveway to the car, pollito enjoyed a little freedom from his leash at times as ludo has always been so strict but fun. “I dont know what that babe.” Taking his husband’s hand as they headed to the car. “I’m extremely impulsive and unpredictable. You never know what to expect.”  

Benji tried not to sigh because he didn't want to offend his husband in any way. After all, he understood why Ludovic wanted to know more about the relationship Sofia had with Angelo. He never had siblings, but Benji could imagine that some kind of protectiveness was triggered in his husband and it was also true that he didn't know much about Angelo. Benji hardly talked about his Papino and their past, naturally, his husband was wary. Yet, it wasn't on Benji to discuss that with his husband, but it was Sofia's matter. The only reason why Benji wanted to accompany Ludovic was because he knew his husband's temper and his non-existing filter. ❝I get it, Babe. You want to protect your sister. I don't blame you for that. Actually, I find it pretty adorable.❞ His gaze followed their pup for a bit before Benji decided to get all his stuff together. Especially the cheese couldn't be forgotten. Once he put everything in the bag, he walked back to Ludovic to take his shoes on.

❝Babe, I told Sofia that Pollito is on a diet because of his yearly checkup. The queso is for her videos. She does all those Italian food cooking videos, so I told her I'll give her our authentic Italian queso.❞ Blue eyes lowered on Ludovic before he continued. ❝And yes, I say the Spanish word because our boy doesn't know the meaning and if you say the C-Word, he'll get excited.❞ Benji threw a jacket over his shoulders before they left the house. ❝I trust you, Babe. But sometimes your temper needs a voice of reason.❞ He reached for Ludovic's hand, lifted it, and placed a kiss on the back after they went outside. A smug grin appeared on his lips while looking at his man from the corners of his eyes. Of course, Benji was well aware of what he did to the other with that nickname which was the main reason why he only used it during spicy situations. ❝I distracted you from your growing anger at least, didn't I?❞

Benji winked before they went to the car. Their pup was so well-behaved, that he only followed them without bolting out the driveway. Patiently, Benji waited until Ludovic unlocked the doors of the car before letting go of his husband's hand. First, he put the bag on the passenger seat, then he opened the backseat so Ludo could prepare the blanket for Pollito. ❝What a good boy you are.❞ Benji placed a kiss on top of Pollito's head and took the leash from the pup's mouth. Leaving the rest to his husband, Benji got comfortable on the passenger's seat, placing the bag and leash on the ground in front of him. While his husband was busy with Pollito and the blanket, he took out his phone to send Sofia a quick text message that they'll come over in a bit. It was better to warn her, in case Angelo was over as well. The last thing Benji needed was for his husband to explode right at the doorstep. // @nazghcul

[cryscendo]

For the drabble game! Kurt, au: sports!au (gymnastics), trope: exes, prompt: “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.” :)

thank you so much for the request, this was so much fun to write. i decided to make this kurtbastian bc i’ve never wrote that ship before and you gave me some freedom with the ship choice. sorry if this is ooc at all, i tried my best <3 i decided to go about this as gymnast!kurt and coach!sebastian. it makes more sense in context i promise

Word Count: 823

Fic can be read under the cut!

“Porcelain, take a break! You’re useless if all you're gonna do is fall on your ass every time you try to swing on the bars. Give yourself ten then be back on the high beam.”

Thank god, Kurt thought. He had been working with Coach Sylvester for awhile now, and though his routine has improved for it, his sanity is certainly taking a toll. She pushed him in ways that no other coach had prior.

Well, aside from one.

He attempted to dust the chalk off his hands, — though he admittedly was just making small puffs of dust clouds, — before reaching for his water bottle. He had been a practicing gymnast for close to fifteen years, and these days he’s starting to feel those years wear on him more and more.

“Damn, Hummel, you look like you’ve been going through it. That new coach of yours really rides your ass, huh?”

He recognized the voice immediately. He wished he could be surprised by the other’s presence, but given as they frequently occupy the same training facility, it wasn’t all too much of a shock. With a sigh, he turns and faces the owner of the voice.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” Kurt took a sip of his water as he took in the man before him. Sebastian looked largely the same that he always had. Then again, they are forced into relative proximity with enough frequency that he could never possibly forget how he looks. Sebastian looked at Kurt with that same smirk that always agitated him when they were together.

“Who says I want anything? I have a trainee I’m working with, but she seems to be running a bit late. I guess not everyone is as punctual as you are, Kurt.” Kurt scoffs in annoyance, looking anywhere but at the other man. At Kurt’s lack of response, Sebastian continued on. “You seem exhausted, how about you come have a seat in the bleachers with me for a bit?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good-”

“Just for a few minutes. C’mon, we can be nice.” Despite everything in Kurt telling him that spending any period of time with Sebastian was a bad idea, he decided to silence that part of him. There was not much that the man could do in ten minutes. And besides, Kurt could admit, if only to himself, that he missed Sebastian.

They sat in silence at the bleachers for only a moment before Sebastian spoke up again. “So Sue Sylvester is your coach now, huh? Makes you seem like quite the masochist.”

“My routine is better for it. I’m at the best I’ve ever been.” That much was true. There was hardly a gymnast in the state that could outpace him.

“You didn’t seem to appreciate being pushed back when I was the one doing it.”

“You were different,” Kurt insisted, finally looking Sebastian in the eyes as he spoke. “Sure, Coach Sylvester puts me through hell, but there’s no emotional attachment there.” Sebastian should know that it was always different with him. It was largely Kurt’s fault, he should’ve never gotten involved with his coach. But of course, hindsight is always twenty-twenty. “You were my coach when I needed my boyfriend and my boyfriend almost never. Can you see how that maybe fucked me up?” Kurt let out a sigh, shaking his head. “As dumb as it sounds, sometimes, I sit in bed and wonder what would’ve happened if things were different.”

Sebastian looked at him coolly and that in itself frustrated Kurt even more. Then, he let out a small huff of a laugh, but there was hardly any humor in it. “You have no idea what my intentions were. And you’re right, that does sound dumb. There’s nothing you get out of dwelling on the past.” The look on Kurt’s face turned into one of confusion. Sebastian elaborated further. “Kurt, you were great. But I knew you could be incredible. So my methods are unconventional, I’ll admit that. Made you tougher, though. Sounds like a pretty good deal, don’t you think? So in a way, I don’t feel too bad about pushing you.”

Kurt seemed at a loss of what to say for a moment. He was trying to conjure up what to say in reply to all that. But before he had the chance, his coach was calling out to him. “Porcelain, you got one minute!”

Kurt wasted no time in standing up. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”

“Kurt, wait.”

Kurt stopped midway down the bleachers and looked back at Sebastian, an eyebrow raised. Sebastian spoke up again. “Why don’t we get coffee again sometime soon?”

At this, Kurt gave a small smile. With a shrug, he continued back down the bleachers, but not before giving one final reply. “Maybe after I win my next gold medal. I mean you said it yourself, I’m already great. I figured you’d want to see me be incredible.”

[justatiredghost]

No Freedom from Knowing ch9

The general mistrust of magic as well as dangerous people in his past kept Jonathan Sims isolated, hidden away where he hoped he might finally be safe. Until he met someone who might be worth shattering that peace for.

ao3

-

John woke slowly, the fog of sleep dissipating as the solid weight beside him slowly came into focus, as well as the warmth emanating from there, seeping into his bones. Somehow, he woke feeling content in a way he was completely unfamiliar with, the knowledge that Martin was with him preventing him from panicking at the foreign feeling. 

Waking up beside someone else was not something he was used to. Any previous relationships felt like a lifetime ago, like they happened to a completely different person. John let himself indulge in the feeling, in the warmth that would quickly become stifling, in his arm that was slowly going numb from the awkward position, and the absolute relief and fondness that swepped over him at how perfect it all was. 

He knew there were things he needed to do, concerns and fears he needed to contend with, but when Martin’s eyes fluttered open and eventually focused on him, a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, it was the only thing John was capable of caring about. 

John leaned in and kissed him, because he could, because he was allowed to. Because it made Martin smile. He knew his expression had to be one of self satisfaction when Martin did exactly that. 

“Good morning to you too,” Martin said, placing his hand on John’s arm, smoothing his thumb against his skin, and he looked so fond, it made John melt. 

This closeness was still so new, John felt himself somewhat overwhelmed despite how much he wanted to indulge in it. He wanted to stay here forever, but the agitated need to walk was greater and won out. 

“It’s still night, I think,” John said, squinting towards the window. “How about some dinner?”

Martin had barely opened his mouth to agree when John climbed over the top of him. It was either that or climb to the foot of the bed, and this way won a surprised laugh that filled him with such pride and fondness, he decided he’d chosen correctly. 

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Martin muttered, covering his burning red face until John had climbed off of him and the bed, before following. 

It was inevitable that they’d eventually have to talk about next steps. The place was still a mess, but Martin righted the table and chairs so they could at least sit down while they ate. Instead of sitting across from Martin, John elected to sit beside him, which neither of them commented on, although John could tell he wanted to given the pleased and amused smile Martin tried to hide behind his tea. 

“Maybe we can train the chickens,” Martin joked. “They can act as guard… um, chickens.”

“Guard chickens?” John repeated, deadpan. “I’ve been living with them for years and I can’t even get them to lay eggs in their nests like they’re supposed to. I think they’re beyond training, which is a shame, because I for one would love to see Elias attacked by chickens.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Martin said. “I don’t know how useful they’ll be, but I did get some weapons while I was in town.”

“Weapons?” John asked in alarm. While being able to defend himself was certainly an appealing idea, he didn’t actually know how to use— well, anything. He had to admit to himself that he was more likely to stab himself than anyone else.

“Look,” Martin said defensively. “I may not have any proper training with a sword, but I’ve made a few in my time and that includes testing the strength of the blade. I can work out the basics. Unless you’re going to tell me Elias is also a renowned dualist.”

“Not that I know of,” John said. “He’s likely far older than he looks, though, so who knows.”

“Great, that’s just great,” Martin griped, and John hoped it wasn’t obvious how endearing he found it. “Well, what about—“

And then all hell broke loose. 

It sounded like an explosion, rocking the house to its core, sending spiderwebbing cracks up the wall and ceiling, and knocking John to the ground, where he landed hard. His entire body felt like it was on fire, his magic ripped out of him as it tried to strengthen his wards against the unseen magical bombardment, but it was pointless, there was no way he had enough strength in him to combat that sort of power. 

It felt like he was being flayed open and ripped apart, everything he was torn out of him, leaving a ragged hole behind. He couldn’t even cry out, paralyzed by the agony. And worst of all, he could feel the exact moment his protections gave out. Everything that had shielded him from the outside world was stripped away and he was left vulnerable and broken in its wake. 

He tried to gasp, but he couldn’t get enough air in him, leaving him wheezing on the ground, grabbing at the neck of his shirt as if that would somehow alleviate the crushing weight on his lungs. 

“John? John, can you hear me? Please say you can hear me!”

He was vaguely aware of Martin over him, trying to support him. It was all he could do to reach out and cling to him, every movement a tremendous effort, his hands shaking too much to properly hold onto him. 

John could feel tears running down his face. He wanted to tell him to run, that all hope was lost and he needed to get as far from here as possible, but no words would come, only a strangled sob. Martin heaved him into his arms and carried him to the couch, staying close to hold him, to whisper reassurances that John didn’t know how to tell him meant nothing against the horrors of the world. The horrors that were coming for him. 

He could feel the full force of the Eye, of Beholding, glaring down on him now. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be such a target of that scrutiny; the at once intoxicating and horrific power that he was too weak to fight. He didn’t like who he was with it, the people he had hurt, the people he would likely hurt in the future. It had never been this intent on him, and he didn’t want to know what that meant. 

He cried for a long time, there in Martin’s arms, taking comfort where he didn’t deserve it. He should have pushed him away when he had the chance, at least then he would be far from here, where he might be spared whatever was coming. Martin was smoothing his sweat-dampened hair out of his face, trying to talk him down, when he finally got enough breath in him to speak again. 

“Elias will be coming for me,” John said, gripping Martin’s hand where it had been resting on his shoulder. He thought he might have been holding on too tightly, but he was so weak, it was likely Martin barely felt it. 

“Like hell he will,” Martin said, determination and a protective fury in his eyes that both warmed him, knowing someone could care for him so much, and also froze him to the bone, because he couldn’t get hurt, John couldn’t watch that happen. Elias wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he wanted. 

“Please don’t try to fight him,” John said, still gasping for every word. At least the pain was lessening, the tight grip on his chest slowly growing slack. 

“I’m not just going to stand by! “

“Please, I can't protect you from him,” John begged, and he felt the tears in his eyes again. 

“Tough! It’ll be him that needs protecting.”

And, fuck, he loved this man so much. “Help me up,” he said, and Martin did just that, grabbing his cane and handing it to him as well. 

“Come on,” Martin said. “Let’s at least get somewhere more defensible.”

“Oh,” John said, and any remaining shred of hope he had fled from him completely. “Oh, god. They’re all coming.”

He could feel it. He could feel the unnatural tremor through the earth as they came, the fury and hatred whipped up into a supernatural frenzy, and he knew Elias was somehow the cause. He never did like to do his own dirty work. John shouldn’t have been able to see it, feel it, without his wards, but maybe this was one last gift from Elias. 

“What?” Martin said. “What’s going on? John?” 

“Martin, Martin I need you to listen to me,” John said, grabbing his arm tightly once again, desperately, as he spoke as quickly as he could. ”I need you to go out the back. They can’t find you here.”

“Is it the monsters?” Martin asked, and the set of his jaw told him there was nothing he could say to keep him safe. He’d fight them with his bare hands if he had to. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“No, it’s not, it’s—“

“Come out, witch!” A voice yelled from outside, followed by another. “We know you’re in there, sorcerer!”

“Oh. Oh no,” Martin finally saw what he could; a crowd of people from the town, whipped into a frenzied mob, stepping out of the forest and into his clearing, armed with whatever weapons they could find. 

“They’re coming up with new things to call me all the time,” John said, almost hysterically, catching onto the absurd amidst the horror. 

“Maybe you can sneak out the back while I de-escalate,” Martin began. 

“No, no,” John said, stopping him when he made to walk towards the door. “Something isn’t right, I think Elias has done something, they can’t be reasoned with.”

“Are you sure? We have to at least try!” Martin insisted. 

“Look, if you at least stay here, stay hidden, I might be able to do something,” John lied. “It’s just, my magic won’t protect you, you have to stay safe.”

“I can protect myself—“ Martin began, indignation clear on his face. 

“Martin please, we don’t have time,” John said. But even as he begged, he knew there was no chance. Neither of them could leave the other in danger. They just weren’t capable of it. 

“You’re right, we don’t have time,” Martin said, a steeliness in his eyes. 

“Okay,” John relented, trying desperately to think of something, anything that might get them out of this alive. Or at least get Martin out. He didn’t know what was even happening, really, which made it impossible. 

And then, impulsively, Martin pulled him into a burning kiss. John wasn’t sure if the tears were his own or Martin’s. He wanted the moment to last forever, but a crash caused them to jerk apart. Someone had thrown a rock through a window.

Martin tried to position himself in front of John as they heated outside to confront what was happening. There was no way John could let him do that. He was going to face this head on, he was not going to cower. And he certainly wasn’t going to let Martin risk himself like that. It made his chest ache, knowing he would try to shield him from all of this and the pain he would suffer for it. No, they would face this side by side at the very least. 

A few people were at the head of the group, no doubt the spokesmen. This entire thing was beginning to feel surreal. This was the most organized mob he had ever witnessed. That was probably thanks to Elias, though. He always loved order and bureaucracy. 

A roar went up through the crowd when they spotted them and he suppressed a wince. He didn’t have his cane on him and he did his best to walk without limping, refusing to even lean on Martin. If nothing else, he wanted it to be said that he met his end with dignity, not groveling and crying. He would stand tall until he couldn’t anymore. 

There were shouts, demanding to know what he had done, but he couldn’t answer because he hadn’t done anything. He and Martin were left bewildered, trying desperately to figure out what was happening, what they were being accused of, until one of the lead figures called out louder than the rest. 

“We know this isn’t you, lad,” an older gentleman said to Martin. “Step away from him.”

“What are you talking about?” Martin asked. 

“He’s bewitched you.”

“What?” Martin said, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Of all the stupid—“

“Just step away from him, it will all be over in a moment.”

“No! This is absurd, he hasn’t done anything.”

“He’s a monster!”

“What are you even—“ Martin said, furious and completely at a loss. 

“Actually,” John tried to whisper, because on some level he probably was a monster, they all seemed to get their power from the same place, but Martin just glared at him because now was not the time to be joking around. John personally thought, if not now, when? 

“He’ll kill us all given the chance,” another heckler called. 

“He’s been trying to help. He saved my life, probably plenty of yours, too!”

Martin continued to talk, to defend him, but that was when John saw him, out of the corner of his eye. Very casually lighting a cigarette, watching the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the trees, was Elias Bouchard. He was still dressed in his immaculately pressed suit, a strange contrast in the middle of the forest, a slight smile on his face, and John wondered how he ever could have looked up to this insufferable, cruel man. 

Realizing he was being watched, Elias waved briskly, his grin widening. Then, he looked out over the crowd and back at John, and it was clear exactly what he was thinking. Things were moving too slowly, perhaps he could liven things up a bit. 

A shout went out in the crowd and a rock suddenly struck John in the shoulder, causing him to stagger. He looked around in alarm, but Elias was gone and Martin was grabbing him, pulling him behind him, and then all chaos broke out. 

John was thankful, in a way. When the crowd surged forward, he and Martin were both grabbed and ripped apart. At least that meant whatever happened to him, Martin couldn’t be caught in the middle. He didn’t know what he would have done if Martin had taken a rock for him.  

“Stop it, stop! Can’t you see he hasn’t done anything?” Martin was yelling somewhere to his right. “Leave him alone!”

He caught sight of Martin, being restrained by several men, and he breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t taking this out on him as well. If they truly thought he was being controlled, maybe they would let him go when they were finished. He hated that Martin was here for this at all, he couldn’t imagine how terrifying it would be to have their positions reversed, but at least he would live. 

He had a feeling where this was going, and while beaten to death wasn’t exactly an ideal end, if Martin was safe, he wouldn’t use his magic. He couldn’t. The idea terrified him so much more than the violence of the crowd. Once he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. He would rip open their minds, expose knowledge and secrets for the Eye to feast on and it would be horrible to see. 

He doubted Martin would be able to look at him the same after that. He wouldn’t be able to look at himself, either. Assuming, of course, that it didn’t consume what was left of him in the process, until there was nothing but the thrill of power, making him as cruel as Elias. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to recognize Martin anymore if that happened. He wasn’t sure he could protect him from the Eye, or from himself. 

Through the throng, he managed to catch Martin’s eye and he tried to smile, tried to reassure him that everything would be okay, that he was okay with this. That just made the tears begin to flow down Martin’s face and his chest ached to see it. 

Then, someone punched John in the face and he couldn’t see anything anymore as he was sent sprawling. A sharp kick dug into his stomach and he did his best to curl into a ball, covering his head, as another caught him in the back. 

Out of the corner of his eye, back towards the house, he saw movement and managed to turn in time to see someone opening the door and slipping inside. Elias. It was Elias. And as their eyes met, he had the audacity to wink. And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and John was brought back to the current situation by a kick to his ribs

He always seemed to end up back here, under the boots of the people around him. He’d wanted to help them, but he’d failed at every turn. He’d done nothing but hide away and protect his own skin, while they fought and died to the creatures lurking in the darkness, the creatures he should have been able to work out, protect them from. 

Maybe this was the end he deserved. Elias had been right, he was a failure. He could do nothing for anyone, living off the work Gertrude had put in while contributing nothing of his own. He would die unmourned and forgotten. Hopefully Martin would eventually see him like that too, so he could move on and forget him like he deserved. 

John was fine with this, with keeping their focus on him, to let them take their rage and hatred out of his body, hoping it would be enough to satisfy them so they wouldn’t turn it on Martin or anyone else. It was a familiar oppressive terror, the hopelessness of knowing no one would save him, as they demonstrated just how far their hatred for him went. 

Somehow that was always more frightening than the physical pain; knowing for certain that whatever self loathing he possessed, their hatred for him was exponentially worse. It was unfathomable in its cruelty, that it could blind them until they couldn’t even see him as a person anymore. He was just a monster. Lower than a monster. And the world would be a better place without him in it. 

Someone stomped down on his ribs, causing him to cry out and flinch from his position, leaving his head exposed and he caught a kick to his forehead, dazing him. It almost made him miss it. There, an oppressive weight, fear and a bloodthirsty intent. But it wasn’t coming from the crowd, at least not completely. It was so much worse, so much bigger than all of them, and it fueled them all in their violence. 

Oh god. They were coming. More monsters than should have been in the forest, pressing in on all sides, feeding off of all of this. He tried to scramble to his feet, to cry out a warning, but he was knocked down immediately, brutally, and he had no breath for words, unable to even protect himself from the assault coming from all directions. 

And then the screaming began. 

First to arrive was the Slaughter, feeding off the long-festering anger of the townspeople and amplifying it, a horrible visage of a man, twice as tall and towering over the crowd, with too many heads and too many limbs, that sliced through those closest with swords and spears and knives. Then the Flesh, and John was grateful for his angle, unable to truly see the form they were taking. The last one he’d seen was hulking and bulging and dripping and he didn’t want a comparison. 

Then there was the fog. 

The crowd had backed off somewhat, distracted by the chaos, and John took advantage of the moment to search for where he’d last seen Martin, but he wasn’t there. Unhindered by the press of the mob now, as they began to scatter, John began dragging himself across the ground, desperately casting about. 

Martin had to still be here. The Lonely couldn’t have taken him so quickly, surely. But if it had, it would all be John’s fault, forcing him to watch all of this, leaving him helpless to stop it. John of all people knew what helplessness felt like, what it could do to a person, and he hated himself for putting him through that, for not even thinking. 

John could feel himself on the edge of desperation, near tears, when someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him roughly to his feet. He staggered, forced to lean on the man holding him to stop himself from falling or being choked by his own clothing, his bad leg unable to take his weight. 

“Give them the witch,” a man shouted, and they dragged John forward a stumbling step. 

They were going to feed him to the monsters. And Martin was still out there, he needed his help. He tried to object, to explain it wouldn’t do anything, they didn’t care about him, but he knew it was useless before he’d even begun. Everything was happening in a blur around him, he could barely process any of it, the screaming of the injured and dying drowning everything out, his panic making it all into an incomprehensible wave of noise. 

He was vaguely aware of something hitting the man holding him and it was almost a relief when John was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, where he could press his face against the cool grass. But then he was looking up at Martin and he thought he might weep in relief. 

Martin was trying to check his injuries, but John grabbed at him and pulled him close enough to wrap his arms around his neck, pulling himself closer to give him a desperate hug, more relieved than he’d ever been in his life. 

“We need to go,” Martin said, and he tried to nod along, even though he didn’t know if he could. 

Martin pulled his arm across his shoulders and hauled him up. John bit back a cry of pain at the sudden movement and just tried to hang on, moving one foot in front of the other, dizzy from the movement. They were jostled several times, but Martin stood strong, determined. As they reached the perimeter, the fog grew thicker. 

“Martin,” John said, voice hoarse and painful, still barely able to get breath into his bruised lungs. “It’s coming, we can’t —“

“It’s okay,” Martin said, and the smile he gave him chilled him to the bone. He imagined it looked a lot like the one John had given him before the first blow had been struck. 

“No, Martin, please,” he tried to protest, but he was much too weak. 

And then they were swallowed up by the white, drawn into the depths of the Lonely, by Martin himself. John thought there was a chance he himself might be protected by the Eye, he might be able to retain his sense of self in that oppressive forsaken place, if it could even still reach him there, but Martin had no such protection. And yet Martin was welcoming it in like an old friend. And he was doing it for John, to get him somewhere safe, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.