#bigger chunks you just angered it

[intotheelliwoods]

Back on my huggy leo nonsense :)

Similar to one of those reptile heat rocks, id imagine a nicely heated metal arm also feels very nice! Turtles and all

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

[consistencynevermether]

Hellooo I absolutely love your writing and Vere series!! I was wondering if maybe you could write Vere reacting to the MC getting pretty injured?? From a Soulless or otherwise? Thank you so much!! <333

I'm so glad you like the series!! this fic got a little long, its just so much fun to write vere dialouge. Thank you for the ask!

content: vere x gn! reader, SFW, cannon typical swearing and mentions of serious injuries, 2.5k words

52. That's how many tiles you had counted on the ceiling of Kuras’s clinic so far. You had woken up about an hour ago, your shoulder bandaged, laying in one of the beds in Kuras’s clinic, with Vere standing on the other side of the room, pacing back and forth. When you woke, he barely spared you a glance and continued to pace, the clicking of his heels was the only sound in the room. 

You were in trouble. Big trouble. 

You tried to piece together your memories of what happened earlier that night. Your head was pounding, but the memories returned to you easily enough. 

You had been working at the clinic earlier and Kuras had asked you to deliver something to Ais. You had plenty of time to deliver the package, but you got caught up talking to Ais and petting Princess. By the time you were out of Ais’s territory, it was already sundown. You weren't too worried about it though. You had killed a few soulless since getting to Eridia, and you had the dagger Mihn had gifted you strapped to your thigh. But this one was different. It was bigger, stronger, faster than any of the other soulless you had thought before. You put up a good fight. You were smart and dodged when you needed to, struck its weak points with the dagger, and gave the fight all your focus. But this soulless was simply out of your skill range, and all it needed was one chance to latch on, and you were down. The soulless had found an opening and taken a massive chunk out of you, its rotting fangs sinking into your shoulder. 

Everything after that was just darkness. Until you had woken up in one of the clinic rooms about an hour ago. You don't know how you got there, but Vere was there when you woke up, and clearly not happy with you. 

You wanted to fix this before it became a problem. Vere had a nasty habit of being upset with you and instead of telling you why he was upset, he would simply avoid you, and you would have to track him down. The last thing you wanted was to try and track him through Hightown with an injured shoulder, so it was best if you talked this out now, while he was pacing back and forth in your room.

“Hey,” you cautioned. “So uh, I don't suppose you know how I got here?” you asked. 

Vere looked down at you, his mouth twisting into a combination of a cruel smirk and a grimace. 

“Oh you mean how did you end up at the hospital? The hospital run by the most insufferable person in all of Eridia? With half of your shoulder missing? Is that what you mean? Is THAT what you're asking me right now? Or MAYBE your asking about the part where I found your stupid ass half dead and bleeding out in the filthy fucking street, and had to drag you all the way here.” 

A tight, fake smile was plastered on Vere’s face as he spoke, while rage stormed in his eyes. You don't know what you said wrong, but it was most certainly wrong. You had never seen Vere so pissed at you before. 

You cleared your throat, not yet ready to throw in the towel and give in to Vere's anger. You could still talk to each other like the civil adults you were.

 “Well, thank you for-” you started

“THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? THANK YOU?” Vere bellowed, looking more unhinged by the second. 

Welp, so much for civility. 

“Well, what do you want me to say, Vere?” you snipped, annoyance bleeding into your tone. You already had a headache from the blood loss; you didn't need someone yelling at you, either. 

“Oh no, you do not get to have an attitude with me.” Vere snapped back. “Can you even comprehend how lucky you are? The only reason I found you was because the Sinobium had been getting complaints in Lowtown about the soulless. If not for that, I would be in Hightown right now doing jack shit while YOU would be a corpse cooling in the grime.” 

“I'll be more-” 

The words caught in your throat. What you wanted to say was “I'll be more careful”.

But you had been careful. You were alert, you traveled on all the best-lit roads, and you were armed. You had taken every precaution. And you had still nearly died. You couldn't hold back the bitter feeling at how outclassed you had been, especially since if Vere saved you, that meant he had probably killed the soulless that had taken you down with barely any struggle. There was nothing you could have done to have made that fight go any better. 

“What do you want from me, Vere? To just hide in my room two hours before the sun even begins to set to ensure nothing ever happens?” 

“Yes?!?!?” Vere responded as if it was the most obvious answer to exist. 

“Vere, I have work to do. That's obviously not feasible. And even if it was, I won't live my life in fear of the darkness.” you countered. 

Vere threw his head back and gave a bark of laughter.

“You know what, you're so right.” Sarcasm dripped in Vere's voice. “What is the worst that could happen after all? It's not like there's a risk of you DYING IN THE STREETS.” 

When Vere got mad, it made you more aware of the monster he was. When he yelled in rage, you could see all his fangs. When he waved his hands around in exasperation, you could hear the claws whiff against the air, as if they were sharp enough to cut through even oxygen. His ears were pressed flat against his head, and there was a snarl to his voice. This changed nothing to you, of course. You always knew what he was. He was just so good at disarming people with his charm, it was easy to forget he was built to be a killer. Even you, one of the people closest to him, were not immune to his disarming act. 

You opened your mouth to counter, but the words died in your throat once again. He made a good point. It wasn't a feasible point, but you understood his rage. You were really just arguing with him to avoid the shame you felt at how absolutely outclassed you felt. You couldn't just hide away from the world, you were working on top of trying to find a way to cure yourself and free Vere. You couldn't afford to just hide away and live in fear. But with that being said, if you had been in his position tonight, you would be just as upset. 

Damnit. 

After a long pause, you finally spoke again. 

“I'm sorry. I can’t put my life on hold because of this. But I will be more cautious when the sun sets. And I will keep training so next time I can get away. That's the best compromise I can offer you. And I am sorry Vere. I didn't mean to upset you. Or almost die.” 

You tried to give the last part of that sentence a lighthearted tone, in an attempt to lift the mood.

You expected more yelling. But instead when you looked at Vere, he was just quiet. After a few more agonizing moments of silence, you half expected him to walk out right then and there. Or throw a chair at your head. 

But to your shock, he simply hung his head and sat down on your bed.

You quickly scooted over to make room for him. 

He let out a long sigh and unceremoniously leaned down to flop his head on your chest. After a few moments, you felt like it was safe enough you could start gently stroking his head. 

You lightly petted the base of his ears and ran your fingers through his hair. For a moment, everything was calm.

And then your fingers hit something wet and sticky in Vere's hair. You looked down at your hand, and your fingers were red. 

Blood.

Shit shit shit shit. Did he actually get injured when he saved you from that soulless? You hastily pushed Vere’s face off your chest and grabbed his chin, roughly tilting it to your line of sight to look for injuries. 

Vere looked shocked for a second, but easily removed your hand from his chin like it was nothing. 

“What exactly was that for?” he questioned, irritation noticeable in his voice.

But you couldn't answer. You could only focus on the fact that he was covered in blood. It was obvious. How the hell did you not even notice until now? The blood didn't really show on his black clothes, but red was splattered on his face and had matted half his hair, making it look wet. Vere did already naturally have a very red pallet, and it wasn't uncommon to see him covered in blood at all. But still, how were you so focused on arguing with him you hadn't even noticed that he was covered in blood?

You could feel a pit of guilt and fear well up inside you. 

“You're injured, I'm getting Kuras” you firmly stated. 

Kuras and Vere may not like each other, but you knew Kuras wouldn't turn away anyone. And if Vere was too proud to ask for help, you'd gladly do it yourself. 

As you stood, you felt a pair of clawed hands wrap around your waist and pull you back down onto the bed. 

You tried to twist around and squirm free, but it was useless. Vere wasn't hurting you, but his grip was firm enough that you wouldn't be able to force your way out. 

“Vere don't be childish, y-”

You heard a sigh from behind you as Vere rested his chin on your shoulder.

“This is your blood, not mine” he mumbled.

Ah. you once again tried to squirm out of Vere's grasp, and this time he released you with another sigh. 

You sat down on the bed properly and faced him. Your blood was everywhere. It splattered across his face and completely coated the right side of his chest. Drip lines of blood ran all the way to his knee on his left side and both his arms were coated in red.

You subconsciously moved to touch your shoulder, it was a little sore and stiff, but other than that fine.

Of course, you then remembered how Kuras had reattached your arm that first day in Eridia. You were on death's door then. So how badly injured had you been tonight? 

You tried to remember the details of your absolute pummeling, but it was mostly a haze. 

Not good, you could imagine. Judging by how much blood was on Vere, and how upset he was, you probably actually were on death's door when he brought you here.

But he had brought you here. Despite his hatred for Kuras, he had forgotten his pride to help you. Damnit, now you really felt bad for arguing with him earlier. 

You shifted in the bed again, this time you rested your head on his shoulder, and he easily adjusted, laying his hands behind your shoulders and lightly drawing circles on your back with his fingers. It tickled a little. 

“Vere” you mumbled into his chest. “I really am sorry.” 

There was a pause before he responded. It felt like a lifetime.

“You're just so vulnerable.” He finally whispered after a few seconds of silence. 

Once again embarrassment welled up inside you for being taken down so easily, but you knew Vere wasn’t trying to tease you about it. 

Besides you, Ais was his closest friend. And no soulless could touch Ais. And everyone else he knew, whether they be allies or enemies, was also strong. Or at least capable. Most of them could have probably defeated the soulless that took you down. It’s not that you were weak, it’s that you were new. You didn’t know this city like they did, and you didn’t have the experience they all had killing creatures like the soulless. You were painfully aware of how much you needed to improve. But now, you were also aware of how uncomfortable this probably was for Vere.

He wasn’t used to having people around him who could just die over "nothing", so you couldn't blame him for reacting poorly. He'd never had to worry over another person's life like he had to do with you. You must have seemed so delicate to him, like a glass sculpture. You could almost understand why he wanted to keep something so fragile under lock and key.

But you weren't made of glass. You were a person. You could evolve. You would get smarter, stronger, more skilled. And you would do just that. Because you didn't want to die in the streets. And you didn't want to upset Vere again. 

You leaned in closer to Vere, catching the scent of lavender on him. It was calming. Grounding. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. 

“Vere,” you mumbled. “Tomorrow, come to my room, I’ll brush your hair as a thank you.” 

“I can’t. The Sinobium has me booked for the day” he replied. 

“That's fine.” you yawned. “I can wait till you get off. For now, I can wash some of the blood off you.”

As you said this, you began to lazily move towards the basin and sponge at the side of the bed.

You could feel Vere hold you a little tighter as you tried to move away. 

He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

“Oh. the Sinobium wants you to go back to work right now, don't they?” you questioned. 

“Mhm,” Vere responded. “I've pushed their grace limit as it is, staying for this long. But I'll stay for just a little longer. Go to sleep.”

“You won't be here when I wake up?”

“No.” 

“But you will come to see me when you're finished, right?” 

“You'll probably be out working.”

“So wait for me. You don't need a key to get into my room. You made that evident with how much you come in uninvited. You didn't even need to steal my key that day we met.” You insisted.

Vere chuckled lightly at the memory and continued gently tracing circles on your back. 

“Vere?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You will come to see me right? You're not still mad?”

“I'm still mad at you,” he confirmed. “But I’ll be there.” 

Satisfied with that answer, you allowed yourself to finally drift off to sleep. When you woke, it was just you alone in that room. 

You weren't worried though, you knew a certain fox would darken your doorstep very soon.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 3

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you have to decide if it's worth keeping your enemies close.

Content Warnings: Under the Mountain is like a walking trigger warning, but mentions of torture, unnamed character death via the torture; Rhys is an ass but he's a protective ass so we'll allow it.

Author's Note: This part is loooong, needed to set up Part 4 and it made sense in my head to have these bits in one piece before we get to the *cough cough* personal training. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

(Part 1, Part 2)

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

There’s no way out.

You bash the only heavy item you can find--a paperweight, tucked into the back of a dust filled drawer--against the air duct, over and over, large chunks of stone flying in every direction, even as the reality of the situation sets in. There are no back doors, no windows, just this slim chance that maybe, maybe you can bash your way out of the rock on sheer force of will.

The paperweights thuds against the stone make your ears ache. Every blow has your shoulder feeling like it might wrench from it’s socket any second, the pain a sharp thrum with every blow, but you can’t stop, if you stop you will think about it and if you start thinking about it, you won’t make it.

The blows land over and over, sometimes you switch arms to try and give yourself a break. You haven’t slept, exhaustion making this tedious, even more so when this escape attempt requires you to balance atop a bedside table that’s seen better days. Chunks of rock fly away from the wall, dust a heavy coat over your skin, your tongue. It’s like swallowing sand.

“Come on!” You beg the wall. The paperweight shutters, bits of metal cracking, denting. You’ve broken your fingernails, torn apart your knuckles trying to get the hunk of engraved metal to push through the rock. This is your only shot, the door’s bolted from the outside, a guard posted beyond. Rhysand, that bastard, had tossed you into this empty, dust ridden room hours ago. You aren’t entirely sure where you are, the journey over here a blur, glimpsed only in flashes as you’d hung over the male’s shoulder, but that’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is getting out, getting free. The air duct is more of a slit, carved into the rock wall that makes up your room, barely enough room for to slide your arm into, but you have to hope it gets wider somewhere. You can’t allow yourself to think about what happens if you can’t climb your way out of the room.

The paperweight lands again and again and again, the rhythm steady, the beat not unlike the drums that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. If you lived through this, you’d never go to another Calanmai celebration again. You take all that anger you feel, the helplessness and confusion of the last twenty four hours and channel it into your arm. The wall shudders, but your elusive powers do not flare behind a few wisps of darkness over your bloody knuckles.

“Break!” You snarl like it can hear you, bend to your desperation.

A few more blows and the only thing that breaks is the paperweight, the hunk of metal cracking into three, small pieces. You stare at it as it slips from your hand, scatters across the rock floor.

You know it can’t see you, but you flash your middle fingers at it. “Useless fucking thing,” you hiss as you climb off the bedside table. The room is larger than you anticipated, a bed in the center, the table next to it with a little lamp; there’s a small bathing room with a copper tub, sink and toilet. It’s not really a cell, it’s technically bigger than your room in the farmhouse, but the locked door reminds you it’s not better by any means. The whole place is dark, carved out of rock in the heart of a mountain, as far as you could tell when they brought you in. It might have made more sense if you were upright, but there’s no use dwelling on that now. Dust covers everything, the sheets, the walls, the floor, disturbed by your footprints, and also the bed that you managed to wiggle behind and push in front of the door. The wood was heavy, it had taken all your strength to push it away from the back wall and across the room. It might not do much, but it will be enough to give anyone pause, at least you hope. It’s better than sitting around waiting for them to come back, at the very least.

You go back to the bathroom, pausing briefly to wash the blood from your hands, then slowly study the place, looking for something you missed the first time around. One door, not even a door to the bathing room to lock yourself in if necessary. No more vents. No windows. No cupboards. Very little places to hide unless you feel like hiding under the bed. You go over the space inch by inch, looking for anything else to use to help dig yourself out, but there’s nothing. Not unless a cheap bar or soap of the moth bitten sheets can be used somehow. The base of the lamp looks heavy, but then you’d be working in the dark and that’s not an option.

You’re about to break down and cry when the door opens. Unhindered, because it doesn’t swing in, it swings out, your idea to block the door absolutely useless. From the darkness of the hallway, Rhys stares at you, then the bed, the wooden frame barely up to his chest.

You flash your middle fingers at him too, teeth pulled back in a snarl. If he tries to come in here you really will rip out his throat. He’d deserve it. Bastard. How could he do this to you?

With a smirk, and the flick of Rhys’s wrist, the bed re-centers itself against the far wall. Not even an inconvenience, he’d moved it like it was no effort at all.

Shit.

“Was that supposed to be a barricade?” The door swings shut behind him, the lock clicking ominously into place in the cavernous space. He’s found a new shirt, the one he’d given you earlier stuffed in the corner where you can’t smell the scent of him any longer.

He seats himself on the edge of your bed, making himself comfortable, eyes darting briefly to the new hole in the wall. “Dare I ask?”

You cross your arms over your chest, still barring your teeth. Perhaps Calanmai had turned you into more animal than girl. “It was like that when I got here.”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug, like he knows it’s useless, that you’ll simply tire yourself out, become easier prey.

“What do you want?” You hiss. He doesn’t seem to notice the venom in your tone, the way you make sure there’s distance between the two of you.

“Can’t I be here to make sure you’re comfortable?” He counters.

“What an excellent host you make,” you snarl. “Will you bathe and tuck me in next?”

His violet gaze rakes slowly over you, assessing the bare expanse of your legs, the tattered, mud stained hem of your shift, barely covering you, the barely there straps clinging for dear life to your dirt stained shoulders. It’s intense, you know many fae would melt under it; you might have too, if things had been different, if the sight of him didn’t make you want to hurl something at his head.

“Darling, I’d lick you clean if you asked,” he says lowly.

“Does that shit usually work for you?” You snap back. He’s infuriating. How could you have kissed him?

He grins as he pushes away from the bed, eyes locked on your lips like he’s thinking about that kiss too. “I don’t usually have to resort to it, my good looks and natural charm do most of the work for me.”

“You have the charm of a viper.”

He huffs a laugh, “Cruel, wicked thing.”

His advances have you backing up, until you stumble right into the wall. The rock bites into your shoulder blades as he halts inches from you, close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face; smell that citrus and jasmine scent of him. You should push him away, give yourself breathing room, but when he’s this close rational thought eddies from your head.

“What do you want?” You repeat, voice shakier than you intend, trying to remind yourself that you’re angry at him, that you don’t want him anywhere near you. It’s his fault you’re in here.

“Her highness wants you trained,” he says like that’s supposed to mean something to you.

All you can do is stare at him.

“She sent word to your father,” he amends. “He’ll be here in three months time.”

You’re suddenly aware of how loud your own heartbeat is.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? He never bothered to contact me before.” You’re loosing your edge, mind spinning with all the things you could do to try and put some distance between the two of you.

“It seems your Uncle stole you away in the middle of the night,” Rhys explains. “Hybern has been looking for you since.”

“He’s done a shitty job.”

Rhys shrugs as he reaches out a hand to play with a tendril of your hair, curling it around his slender fingers. A cat playing with it’s food; he has no intention of letting you move away from the wall, trapped between the rock and his chest. “He’s eager to see you again, and Her Highness is eager to prove that you’re useful.”

“Why?” Why does Hybern suddenly care about you? Why does the red head care what you do with your powers? Why is this male touching you still and why are you letting him?

“Hybern’s an opportunist,” he says as he brushes the strand behind your ear. “His plans for Prythian might be closer to reality with the right power behind it.”

None of it makes any sense to you.

Rhys must see that on your face because he says, “Hybern made Amarantha. That might not make sense to you yet, but she is what she is because of him. She knows the best way to solidify her position within the world Hybern intends to create is to hand him a weapon already sharp enough to use.”

“So I’m to be a pawn then?”

He shrugs, the hand still against your temple drifting to brush over your cheek, like he can’t help but touch you. “Or you could also be an opportunist.”

You quirk a brow.

“Hybern might just be your only way out of here, Darling.”

“First off, don’t call me that. Second, what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

You shiver.

 “Training isn’t the choice here. The choice is whether you want to see anyone get hurt to make sure it happens.”

“What are you gonna do, torture me?” You hiss.

He brushes a thumb over your lip, violet eyes trained there like he’s thinking about how they felt against his own earlier. “You have people you care about.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

“She’s already given me the order to find your uncle.” His fingers drift lower, until he’s holding your chin between his forefinger and chin. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been with you,” you growl; his words snap you back to reality. He’s the enemy. You do not want to be this close to the enemy. “How would I know?”

“My spies tell me he packed a bag and left after finding you gone? Did you have a meeting place for emergencies?”

“Eat shit,” you snarl.

 Something brushes against you, like a shadow, but it’s not against your skin, it’s against your mind. The sensation cold, foreign. You blink, pull your head out of his grip to shake your head, shake the feeling off, but it lingers, holding on.

“You don’t even have any fucking shields,” he snarls.

The brush against your mind makes you see things, the farmhouse, your own hands kneading bread, it takes longer than it should for you to realize you’re seeing your own memories play out before you.

“What-” a tavern spins into view, the worn sign clear enough in your eyes that you say the name out loud. It’s a little place, not too far from Spring’s borders, close enough to Autumn that you can get there by foot in half a day. Your uncle had shown you the place as a kid, said that if you’d ever gotten separated from him than you were to go there and wait. If he’d returned home and found the house empty, the first place he’d go was there.

The memory fizzles; the shadow recedes.

Reality slams into you, tears falling from your eyes. What did you just do?

Like he can’t help himself, Rhys brushes a tear off your cheek with his knuckle. “We’ll work on shields first.”

He moves to leave, but you grab him by the front of the shirt. “Wait, please… please don’t do this! I’ll do whatever you want, ok? Just, just leave my uncle out of this.”

It is not cruelty on his face, or judgment, it’s a flash of pain before he straightens, face a mask of perfect indifference as he slides his hand over yours. “As I said, Darling, I would consider your options here carefully.” He pulls your hand away, the lock sliding out of the door on a phantom wind, and then he’s gone.

Only when the lock clicks into place again do you allow yourself to crumple to the floor and cry.

There’s a flower on the bedside table when you finally manage to get up off the floor. It’s the same glowing, violet bud that you had seen in your dreams, the one that had led you right into Rhys’s waiting arms. You pick it up gently, starring at the soft petals, so thin you can almost see through it. It’s beautiful and strange all at once.

Then you take it to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

No more stupid flowers, or those damn visions, no more chasing flowers through the woods and trusting stupidly handsome males to protect you. Fuck him and these stupid flowers! They’re to blame for all this mess. A mess you were now dragging your uncle into.

You might have started to spiral again if there wasn't another flower in the first’s place by the time you step back into the main room. As if the one you’d moved had never been there. You stare at it for a long while, then back at the bathroom, the water still running as the toilet flushes, just to make sure you hadn’t imagined removing the first one.

Groaning, you snatch the second one and toss it down the toilet with the first.

There’s a third as quickly and as soundlessly as the other two had arrived.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You snatch it off the bedside table and crush it into your hand, the scent of it overwhelming, too strong for any flower not sprouting from the ground to be.

You wipe the remains on the dirty sheets as you sit on the bed, watching the table now, daring a fourth to appear. No one has used the door, the vents aren’t an option, it’s got to be some sort of magic. Unless tables can sprout gardens in this strange mountain dungeon.

As if it knows it’s being watched, no fourth flower appears.

You cross your arms, waiting, challenging it. Minutes tick by. Nothing. Only then do you breath a sigh of relief.

But in the stillness of the room, the lack of entertainment soon becomes suffocating. You try to distract yourself by stripping the sheets off the bed and shaking the dust off of them. You’re obviously going to be sleeping here, might as well make yourself comfortable. But that doesn’t take long.

You push the bed back in front of the door again, it’s failure be damned. At least, if anyone tries to enter while you sleep you'll have a second to get up and move before they get inside.

The bedside table looks lonely without the bed next to it, with a shrug, you decide to move that as well. You’re half way across the room when one of the legs hits a pit in the floor and tips, the lamp bouncing off the floor with a clang that echoes like a death toll in the cavernous space. The movement knocks the slim drawer on the table wide open, a worn book tumbling out across the floor. It definitely hadn't been there earlier when you'd opened it and found the paperweight. The fading title reads Death Gods and Goddesses Through the Ages, in a scrolling font, the author’s name long since legible in the battered leather. There’s less dust on the pages than the rest of the room, like it hasn’t been here quite as long. After collecting the fallen lamp, blissfully not broken, as if is spelled to avoid such things from clumsy creatures like you, and pushing the table against it’s new home on the wall, you sit yourself atop the bed and prop the book open.

The pages are worn, stained, most of the margins filled with hand written notes. A couple of the pages are even book marked.

Long before the first ages of the world, when light was first introduced, the Gods walked the land, unburdened with the weight or mortality. They were before Time. Until the Darkness came and merged with them. Next to the opening paragraph, someone had added the annotation: These are not the same as the Princes from Hel that opened the Portals in the Dark Ages, these are other. Their powers are other.

You shiver and close the book. Who would keep this here?

You draw your fingers over the edges as you process, lip worried between your teeth. It feels like a bad omen, a warning… from the flowers? Your head hurts from all the questions. Are these supposed to be connected? The flowers had led you to the cave, were they leading you to this strange book now too?

You climb under the covers, cold, and then crack the book open again.  

The Darkness took hold, hid Its children in the shadows of the world, rearing its beloved offspring in secret. We did not know to fear them until it was too late. Monsters, they are such terrible monsters. The next note in the margins was a page number that you flipped to, marked with an old slip of paper with swirling marks doodled across it. The High Lords of old consulted with witches and necromancers, priestesses and seers, biding their time, accumulating their knowledge until they were finally able to form a weapon against the Death Gods. At least, that was what they told them. There were those among them who didn’t want the gods removed, they wanted their power to wield, to rule. There’s lists of names, linked in genealogical order of ancient High Lords and bloodlines that had merged with the Death Gods and Goddesses of old. All carefully mapped out. Whoever had owned this book before had done their research, some of the trees branched over onto other pages, the names growing smaller and smaller the longer they went. You don’t have time to read through all of them before the lock on the door groans as it’s moved out of place.

You scramble to hide the book under the mattress before the door opens, though maybe it would have served you just as well as a weapon, because it’s not Rhysand at the door this time.

The soulless black eyes that leer down at you can only belong to the Attor.

It takes seconds for the hulking creature to kick the bed out of the way, the wooden legs screeching as they slash through the rock floor. You don’t even have time to scream, run, as the monster bursts into the room and grabs you by the back of your shift.

“The Queen demands an audience,” it sneers in a voice that sounds like shifting sand.

You flail as it lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing, begging whatever gods can hear you for help. In a rare flare of power, your claws tear through your fingertips, dark, misty power budding in your palms. You claw at the leather hands holding you, slashing over and over again, splattering blood over the walls.

The Attor snarls, tosses you hard into the wall just outside your door. The impact is jarring, black spots swimming across your eyes, all the air leaving your lungs in a rush. You scramble to get onto your feet, legs unsteady, the room spinning. The cavern like tunnel ahead of you flips and doubles.

“Stupid girl!” It snarls as it reaches for the back of your shift again.

You scramble out of reach, legs wobbly, talons scraping across the walls. You make it all of three steps before the Attor grabs you again. If it’s arms aren’t it’s weak spot you need to hit it somewhere else, but it holds you up out of reach, lesson learned. You reach for the walls instead, punching your talons through the rocks, trying to wrench yourself out of it’s grip by finding something to hold on to.

The terrible shrieking sound your claws make against the rock makes the Attor give you a shake that has your brain rattling around in your skull. “Stop that you little pest!”

More spots swim across your vision, hands slipping off the walls. These last twenty-four hours have made you feel more powerless than you have ever felt in your life. What good are these supposed powers beneath your skin if they don’t even work?

The Attor, on lumbering legs, carries you through dark, twisting tunnels. It’s like walking through a maze, the dark stone walls only lit with torches in sparse intervals. There’s no decorations. Little light. And cold, so damn cold.

The Attors claws scrape against the ground as it walks; you recognize the scrapping sound from the cave in Spring. It had been out hunting you too.

“Where are you taking me?” You dare to ask.

It takes a couple more sharp turns, it’s breathing a heavy hiss behind you as it finally brings you to a set of double, stone doors. They’re taller than even the High Lord’s manor, something you imagined you’d see a cave troll bursting out of in one of your books at home. There is something ancient, sacred about the space as the doors swing open on their own. The chamber ahead of you is cavernous, held up by too many carved pillars to count, all depicting different battles across Prythian’s extensive history. It’s the art work you’ve seen replicated in temples and paintings across the Courts, all supposed to be symbolic, holy, but this…

The floors are made of red marble, like a blood stain; fitting because pinned to the walls are bodies, some human, some fae, some other, all disfigured and mutilated. The contents of your stomach rises into your throat.

The cavern is full of fae, some dancing to the low rumble of music coming from the corner, like no one notices the horrors around them.

At the far end of the space sits a dais, the red headed Queen seated atop it. A glittering dress the shade of her hair hugs her form, a single shard of bone dangling from a string around her neck the centerpiece of the plunging neckline. She sips from a golden chalice, a smudge of red lipstick along the glass, her eyes bored as she surveys the party happening around her. There’s a half dressed male sitting at her feet, head in her lap, her clawed nails drifting absently through his pale hair. A cloud of mirthroot smoke circles him, golden eyes glassy like he has no idea where he is. Rhysand leans against the back of the throne, the only one watching the Attor approach at all. Maybe it is normal to see the gangly creature drag people into the throne room, the party goers certainly don’t notice you.

Amarantha, Rhys had called her, only notices you when the Attor all but hurls you at the base of the dais, your body crumbling against the stairs.

“Her Highness,” the Attor sneers.

The Queen’s grin is cruel as she passes her cup to Rhys, who all but tosses it over his shoulder when she’s not looking. “Quiet!” She barks at the musicians, half hidden in an alcove between pillars. Her voice carries through the room like she had screamed it, the echo in the chamber making the floor shake.

All eyes are suddenly on you as you manage to get back on your feet.

“Rhysand tells me you’re willing to cooperate,” Amarantha says.

You’re very aware of the leering eyes of the crowd as they take you in, still wearing nothing but a shift. The crowd doesn’t get too close, but they’re near enough that you hear the whispers, the laughter. It’s an effort just to swallow. “Yes, I did,” you choke out, intentionally not looking at the male.

Amarantha frowns, “What was that, mouse? I can’t hear you.”

Your cheeks heat; your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Yes, I will cooperate,” you bite out.

“Hybern will be glad to hear it,” she strokes a hand over the male’s temple, leaving faint pink scratches across his pale skin. He’s too high to notice. “It will be a great victory for the Court to have you back and ready to take your rightful place.”

Rightful place your ass. None of this feels real, right. Your rightful place is with your uncle, trying dozens of new jobs every time his trading business slows, learning new things to make the money stretch. The farmhouse was a new project, a new chance at settling down and not having to live on the road like you had for most of your life. That life was the only thing you had ever known. To be here now, hearing all this talk about war and conquest, with this queen and her court, it was like you’d stepped into a strange dream you couldn’t escape. You’d been trying not to think about it, but faced with it now you didn’t know what to do, say. She was starring at you like she was waiting for you to thank her for ripping the ground out from under you.

Amarantha frowns when you don’t say anything, her hand across the male’s forehead stilling, the eye in the ring on her finger swiveling to look right at you as if it’s a living thing.

“Rhysand,” she snaps, “you had a gift for our guest, didn’t you?”

Rhys looks up from his very important business picking lint off his shoulder. “Right, of course, the gift.”  

The crowd quiets as he descends from the dais and snaps his fingers. At your feet a male appears, bound and gagged with the dark tendrils of Rhys’ magic. The male looks at you pleadingly and though your heart goes out to his plight, you glance up at the other male in confusion. Are you supposed to know who this is?

“Your uncle’s farm hand,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand, all courtly business.

“Since you couldn’t find the kidnapper,” Amarantha hisses.

Rhys slides his hands in his pockets casually, the picture of bored indifference. But his violet eyes are only on you as he says, “This was the only male waiting for her at the Temple she told me about.”

Temple? Your head spins. You hadn’t shown him a temple.

Amarantha pushes the male in her lap away from her as she climbs down the stairs in heels sharp enough to cut. “A little demonstration is in order, don’t you think?”

Rhys steps a little closer to the bound male, but you can’t help but note that he has now positioned himself between you and where Amarantha is poised at the base of the dais.

The male makes a gasping sound before his eyes glaze over, sweat quickly dotting his forehead. Rhys remains with his hands in his pockets, Amarantha giddy at the sight unfurling before her, and even though neither of them move, it’s clear the male is fighting the invisible grip they have on him. You can’t help but think about what the two of them have already done to you.

“Wait,” you protest. Even if you don’t know this male, you don’t want him to suffer. “I already said I would cooperate, this isn’t necessary!”

The male begins to scream, thrash, and the bands of darkness around his wrists and legs dip into the marble floor, pinning him.

The crowd presses in closer to watch; you hear someone start making bets about how long he’ll last.

“This is a little reminder,” Amarantha coos at you, soft enough that the crowd won’t be able to hear it over the screaming. “Of what will happen if you decide you suddenly don’t want to cooperate with my training regime.”

Blood starts to pool in the corner of the male’s eyes.

You can’t stop yourself from stepping forward and grabbing Rhys’s arm. “Please, stop, I get it ok! Let him go. I will do what you ask.”

But louder than your pleading, Amarantha orders, “If he has nothing to give us, kill him.”

The gag slips from the male’s mouth as he turns to look at you with what looks like his last little bit of strength. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

The sound of bones snapping fills the chamber; the male gurgles on his own blood, and then he slumps lifelessly to the floor.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you yank your hand away from Rhys’s arm, disgusted.

Amarantha waves the Attor over to clean up the mess, even as she says, “You may resume your dancing now.”

As if it never happened, the music starts back up. People start laughing and drinking, the dances not unlike the writhing shapes you had seen in your vision of Calanmai.

She waits until the noise is too loud to be overheard by the crowd to ask, “Did he tell you where her uncle is?”

There’s no chance this stranger knows anything about your uncle. Rhys had lied, but you still find yourself holding your breath, waiting for this to be a trap too. The male certainly acted like he’d known you.

But Rhys says, “I saw a tavern in Winter, I’ll head there-”

“My men will take it from here,” Amarantha interrupts, “I want you here, working on her.”

Rhys bows. “As you wish, My Queen.”

“Escort her back to her room,” Amarantha orders, “I don’t want her back here until we’re sure she can be controlled.”

“Of course,” Rhys moves to take your arm and you duck out of reach.

“I can walk,” you hiss.

He lets his hand fall, slides it back into his pockets.

Amarantha is half way up the dais when she calls back, “I expect quick results.”

He nods in understanding.

“And don’t forget, Rhysand, about the deal you made for this opportunity.”

His eyes darken. “I haven’t.”

As far away from him as you want to be, it’s a relief when he motions for you to move towards the door. The crowd parts for you, some of them outright ignoring you, others leering.

A redheaded male watches the two of you closely, catching Rhys’s eye as you pass.

Rhys snarls something you can’t make out at him.

“Whore,” the other male spits back.

Rhys laughs mirthlessly in response as the doors shut in the other male’s face.

You have questions of course, but the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours weighs so heavily on you, you almost wish it was the Attor carrying you out. Every footstep is heavy.

Rhys doesn’t speak as he leads you through the maze of tunnels. You should be attempting to learn the path, so if you ever do get out you know where you’re going, but it feels like so much effort. What does it matter in the end? You’re stuck here, at the whim of an evil queen and whatever the hell Rhys is, at least until your supposed father gets here and decides to do Mother knows what with you. Any attempts at escaping, at fighting are useless, not when Rhys knows where to look for him. It’s the reminder that he lied that finally makes you look up from where you’ve been following the cracks in the floor.

“Why’d you do it?” You ask softly.

“Do what?” He counters. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You watch the way the shadows of the torchlight bath him in half darkness, the glow of his eyes dimmed here. Everything about him feels dim in these halls, like the mountain has stolen something from him.

“That male-”

He halts at a door that must now belong to you and a bit of magic pulls the door open. “She wants you to know what she will do if she even suspects you’re trying to outsmart her.”

“No,” you shudder thinking about what he had done. How could anybody wield powers like that? “No that’s not what I mean.”

Rhys leans against the doorframe and motions you inside. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me then, Darling.”

You stare at him. He seems to be playing a game unto himself. Whatever his motives are, whatever it has to do with you, he’d not about to admit it here in the hall.

You step into the room, head pounding from all the unanswered questions you have.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says as the door begins to close.

You don’t want to see him in the morning. He’s a monster who can rip people’s minds apart with a thought, a monster who somehow lured you out of your home and brought you here to his evil queen, but he’s also the monster keeping your secrets, and in places like this, you might need a monster like that on your side. You won’t trust him, not after what he’d done in the cave, but maybe it’s not trust you need in a place like this. Amarantha demands you learn to use your powers, she never said anything about you using them on her.

“I’m counting down the seconds,” you say dryly.

“Dream of me,” he says sweetly.

The door closes before you can snarl that you’ve dreamed of him enough.

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

Tag List: @mariahoedt, @llovelydove, @twsssmlmaa

If anyone else wants to be added to the taglist feel free to let me know :)

[graymanshoots]

Simon “Ghost“ Riley SFW+NSFW Headcanons…

…and quotes I found that I believe fit him. With a lil chunk of comforting fluff at the end cause the quotes are sad.

(Just a reminder that these are my personal headcanons for him. Be respectful please.)

Quotes:

SFW

- I don’t think Simon as a person is as ruthless and cold as people make him out to be. He cares a lot about the people around him and locks in when necessary. He may be wary of people when he first meets them, but with the right amount of time and good conversation, he’d definitely be a good companion.

- He keeps work separate from his personal life. The way I see it, him wearing a mask on the field is to preserve his identity and to strike fear into enemies with the skull, like it had been done for him. He doesn’t wear a mask when he’s on leave because he’s Simon then, and people are gonna see him as some random big burly dude, not a soldier when he’s just walking the street.

- I’d say he would like some semblance of a normal life outside of work. By normal, I mean being able to have relationships, maybe get married, and after a lot of convincing, maybe have a kid. If he truly was going to stay alone for the rest of his life, there wouldn’t be as much of a need for him to be so secretive about his face (especially with his background). He has nothing to lose outside of the military. Sad to say, but his entire family is dead, and as far as we know lore-wise, all of his friends are dead except for 141.

- He’s confident and cocky. He’s not shy about his looks. He knows he has attractive features, and he definitely knows his capabilities. Simon is also bigger than most men and has a body sculpted by years of military training. He’s not shy about it. I can see him getting touchy about some of his scars just because they remind him of a dark point in his life, but he also reminds himself that he’s survived through them and takes them with a bittersweet feeling.

- Simon has a lot of mental issues and seems like the type of person to want to deal with them alone. If you were his significant other (you’d obviously have to be extremely close with him to get to that point), he’d tell you about his childhood. He talks about his trauma very casually like it never really affected him, but it subconsciously still hurts to think and talk about. He’ll trauma dump to a close friend/significant other and then think, “My life is kinda messed up.” Later on.

- If he suffers from night terrors or any type of sleeping ailments, I don’t believe he’d push his significant other away. He’d probably need a moment to collect himself because he’d be pretty dangerous in situations where he’s in a panic and isn’t thinking straight, but he’d definitely want to either stay close to you or hold you once he’s somewhat calmed down. He doesn’t mind being comforted; it’s just very foreign to him because he didn’t get much of it throughout his life. When he holds you, he likes to remind himself that he does have a piece of his mother in him and he isn’t 100% a monster. The softness he holds in the deepest parts of himself, he automatically associates them as traits passed from his mom.

- Simon is a soft man. He’d be very gentle as a significant other and as a father. He doesn’t yell or ever really raise his voice unless he’s pushed to a point. But he’d never want to be seen as anything similar to his dad.

- Now he may be soft most of the time, but if someone really pushes him, he can be petty and mean. When he gets angry, he doesn’t think and says things he doesn’t mean just to hurt the other person. He wouldn’t be like this towards his children if he had any, but there are definitely times where he’s argued with his significant other and thrown out a low blow. He’s someone that needs a lot of patience.

- A bit contradictory, but he has anger issues and that’s just that. Of course, he’ll keep level as much as possible, and he doesn’t yell often, but he definitely gets upset at a lot of little things. The someone spills a drink on him on accident, he has to take a moment to calm himself. His coat catches on the doorknob, and he’s gripping the wood tightly, just standing there fuming in silence.

- Carries candy in at least one of his pockets. Seems like the type to have a sweet tooth, and he especially falls into it after getting into a relationship or having a family. He used to just eat candies whenever he had a craving for them, but with an s/o or a family, he eats them whenever he feels he needs a cig or a drink. While sugar isn’t that good for you, he’d much prefer having that than dying of lung cancer or falling into addiction like his brother. He also likes baked goods purely for the fact that they have such a potent smell and can give his dreary apartment a comforting feel when he’s alone.

NSFW (you can scroll past this if you don’t want to see these the mini fluff piece is below this I’ll have it titled bold)

-He’s a gentle lover, doesn’t usually go rough unless asked or he’s upset. He likes to take his time when having sex since his work life is very fast-paced and high-stress. After a mission, he’ll want to make love to his s/o, being soft and gentle with his thrusts, enjoying the grip of you around his cock. After the initial soft round, if you're up for another, he’s not against going rougher.

-He doesn't do casual hook-ups often because they usually require him letting someone into his space or him going into an unfamiliar place. He’d do them in his car, bathroom, or generally anywhere that could give him semi-privacy with the person.

-That being said, Simon is not against semi-public sex. He’s not super kinky but is willing to try anything once. He would never do anything that had to do with blood, bodily harm with a weapon of any kind, and scat/piss. Those are super hard no’s for him. The farthest he’d go with ‘bodily harm’ is spanking, but I don’t see him using a belt at all. Besides, his palm is good enough to get the desired effects.

-Simon loves to cum inside. Not because he has a breeding kink, but because he loves watching his cum leak out of your well-used hole. He enjoys seeing your blissed-out face, knowing he’s to blame for your condition.

-He’s a giver more than a receiver. He loves giving you pleasure and often forgets about himself because he just adores your reaction to everything he’s dishing out for you. He doesn’t mind getting sucked off but would much rather eat you out or fuck you than that. He’s not a very selfish lover no matter his mood. It’s always 90% of his attention on you and the rest on himself. Even if you guys are hate-fucking or he’s in a bad mood, he’ll either edge you into oblivion or overstimulate you until you're crying.

-Simon Riley has a big dick; that’s just a fact. He is thick and he’s got good length. I’d say he’s a bit more girth than most men rather than long. He’s a grower and a bit of a shower. When he’s soft, you're gonna assume he’s like around 5.5 inches, but when you get him all riled up, he’ll get to around 6.7 inches.

-With him having been blessed in his nether regions, he does a lot of foreplay. And I mean a lot. He won’t fuck you until you’ve cum at least once and prepped and ready for him to ruin you. He will start with light teasing once he feels he's in the mood. Gets touchier than usual and will start with innocent little touches and kisses before pulling you into his lap.

-He loves doing and getting aftercare. He’ll lay down and settle for a bit after a good romp, but he’ll eventually either get up or let you get up to do some well-deserved sweet and domestic aftercare.

Mini fluff fic:

You shuffled through the kitchen, humming softly to the song playing through your speaker. The sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon filled the room, wrapping its scent around everything. Simon was supposed to be back from deployment today, so you wanted to make his favorite dessert as a welcome home gift.

You were so wrapped up in making sure everything was perfect you hadn’t heard keys jingling or the door open. With thoughts consumed, a yelp doesn’t fail to leave your lips when you turn around, bumping right into your husband's chest.

“Do I need to buy you a hearing aid, love?” Simon questioned, his unmasked face showing his amused expression.

“You are like a mouse when you walk!” You argued, lightly slapping him on the chest before turning back to the oven.

Simon let out a low chuckle and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his chest before resting his chin on your head.

You relaxed into him, leaning your head to the side, inhaling his cologne. Simon leaned down, pressing his scarred lips to your neck, mumbling something incoherent into your skin.

You squirmed in his hold, feeling ticklish as a small smile appeared on his face. “Simon, the cinnamon rolls are gonna burn.” Your words fell on deaf ears as Simon swayed you along to the music, saying nothing and just feeling you.

His fingers teased under your shirt and lightly gripped onto the skin of your hips, a soft sigh sliding from his lips as he relaxed.

The two of you stood there for a couple of minutes, just swaying softly, enjoying each other's presence before he reluctantly pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“You need any help with the rolls, hun?” He asked, looking at the golden brown cinnamon rolls in the oven. “When I take them out, you can help me with the icing,” you said, grabbing the bowl with the unfinished icing in it. Simon smiled and took the bowl from you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before going over to the mixer…

[intrulogical]

remus isn't dumb; a sanders sides essay

i've been struggling to make a cohesive post about this because i feel like most of what i want to say boils down to the same underlying message which is: remus isn't dumb.

i feel like a good chunk of this fandom understands what i mean, at least to a surface level point. but even then, i think too much of the fandom still misinterprets remus' character in a way that, they seem to understand different traits of his, but the way they execute it is still way off from what we see in canon.

(rest of the essay under the cut!)

for example, the biggest thing i see people get wrong would be the way they write remus "lol random" personality. it's true that remus tends to say whatever he wants at any given moment. but, the problem here is that people tend to think remus as random in function. i have no better way to describe this succinctly, so to expound: while remus tends to make left-field jokes a lot, he is shown to be incredibly deliberate, cunning, committed, and intelligent in very subtle ways.

truth is, remus is very goal-oriented, and when he has a goal, oh he strives for that goal. so far, i'm writing this with the last 5 years episode being the most recent substantial episode, so i can't really 100% say all my assumptions of remus are true. actually, i think the upcoming season finale will be the missing link when it comes to providing us with the whole picture of who remus is.

as for now, i just have to stick with my theory of; remus, as a side of thomas' heavily connected to insecurities and mental health issues, intends to shed light on the "darker" sides of thomas because he believes them to be beneficial. throughout dwit, we see remus continuously bolster the idea that his contributions are useful for thomas. this continues in wtit, but with the extra layer of remus wanting logan as well to be in touch with the darker parts of himself to get thomas in line.

it is also heavily implied that remus is well in on whatever janus' plan is to get thomas to be a.) more aware of his mental health issues, and b.) to get thomas to break out of his catholic black and white thinking. in forbidden fruit, it's janus who’s seen permitting remus to present himself to thomas. bigger evidence though, as i've mentioned in the previous paragraph, is the way remus seems to deliberately want logan to manifest his anger against thomas.

of course, we can always say that remus taunted logan "just for fun", but i feel like too much of what happened in wtit seem to point to remus having deeper reasons. for example, wtit exhibits how bad thomas' mental health is to the point that he gets irrationally angry at nico for not replying to his texts. this proves how thomas has been neglecting his mental health, and with the way patton, virgil, and roman held onto toxic selfless ideologies for the longest time, thomas would still, naturally, be lost on what to do. he would even seem to deny how bad things have gotten, especially with the way he acts like nothing bad is happening when he goes to his date with nico.

why am i emphasizing this? well, it's because something i find interesting about remus' character is how deeply cognizant he is of thomas' problems. what i mean by this is, no other side can call out thomas' issues more than remus can. i wrote an essay about this before if you want to check this out, but tldr: remus, as intrusive thoughts, is the most perceptive out of all the sides when it comes to calling out insecurities or problems. we see this come to fruition in wtit when all of the traps he laid out for thomas involved nico in some capacity.

while you can interpret his character as evil for preying on others’ insecurities, i think it's important to acknowledge that, in a sea of people who tend to refuse to talk about their issues, remus is the main guy who constantly brings them to the table. whether remus' intentions are good or not, there's no denying that remus' importance as a side lies in the fact that he serves as a mental health alarm clock for thomas. with the way none of the sides want to communicate with each other, we need someone like remus to cut the bullshit and say things as it is. 

again, we don't really know if he wants to help thomas. but i would like to emphasize that, yes, remus is not dumb. he does not merely make lewd jokes and calls it a day. he has the long-term goal of making everyone talk about more "taboo" topics with each other, and this includes talking about personal grievances the sides tend to suppress or refuse to talk about. lewd jokes are just part of the process.

i think this goal of his is also incredibly visible with the way remus treated logan in wtit. wtit is my favorite sanders sides episode because there's just so much to analyze between remus and logan, but you can check my other essays in regards to that. the main thing i wanted to point out is that what remus says to logan in the end, "woowee logan, now you're speaking my language. but who do you really want to scream that at?", proves he is more deliberate and cunning than he seems.

a lovely bit of analysis my friend orb (@orbmanson7) provided is that remus didn't just pop up in wtit to intervene with thomas' plans. he was there to intervene with logan's. if you've seen my other essays, i've talked about how logan as a side has been dwindling in terms of self-confidence and assertion. this has left a big problem of thomas being more reliant on his emotions, making him ignore the suggestions given by logan that may help with thomas' mental health in the long run. this is not to villainize thomas' mental health crisis, btw. all i want to say is that, remus recognizes how logan's self-restriction is doing no good and deliberately wants to push logan to become more assertive and angry.

that is why he says logan is speaking his language. he wants logan to recognize the merit in the way remus grabs thomas' attention. he wants logan to be like him and cause more havoc. again, we never know how much remus genuinely wants to help thomas, but we know that remus wants everyone to be more exposed to "taboo" things, and this includes logan being more in touch with his angrier side.

besides that, i'd like to mention how, in general, remus tends to be very committed to his goals more than how the fandom typically portrays him? in dwit, remus' main goal was to disturb thomas and the other sides. it's kind of just an introduction to his character. we're not sure if it's part of a bigger plan he and janus devised to get thomas to take care of himself better, but it is a possibility. the only time he gets too random is when logan begins picking apart his arguments. there we see remus only results to super left-field, continuous off-tangent jokes when he's desperate or placed in a lose-lose situation.

another, in wtit, we see how remus understands how to make very long, complicated traps. i think it's a perfect encapsulation of his personality, actually! throughout the episode, we see him make these multilayered traps with a ton of props and preparation just so he can bother thomas with it. it shows that remus is actually less impulsive-oriented as he seems. he even created a schedule he showed to logan detailing everything he wanted to do that day. again, deliberate! he is deliberate and very smart!

other thing i'd like to harken back to is the idea that he's in cahoots with the other dark sides to execute some Big Plan to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. while we don't know how orange acts like yet, we're Very familiar with janus by this point and we can see how long-drawn janus' plan of acceptance is. he's, again, sorry to use the word so many times, very deliberate. i don't even think his plan ends with svs.r, because it does seem like remus is well in on this plan too. in the 5 years video, he also seems to know more than thomas on what else is to come for the future of sanders sides, which implies he has some plans up his sleeve that no one else knows about. like i said, janus has the goal to break thomas out of his black and white thinking. and so far from what we've seen from remus, he also wants the same!

an important factor of remus' character besides his deliberateness is his general need to subvert what "goodness" means. "good and bad are all made up nonsense," he sings in forbidden fruit. throughout dwit he continuously criticizes everything thomas thinks is good or acceptable. in the 5 years video, he argues about how there's no "correct way of sitting". i think this also proves how remus is important as a side because, while not every single one of his beliefs are morally acceptable, he is still able to pick morality apart in a way the other sides are unable to. also, i just think this proves his character as just. generally smart? he's able to pick apart the status quo and moral philosophies, of course he's smart.

just to pick up on a previous point, remus is scarily perceptive. i mentioned this earlier with how remus is able to pick logan apart, but i'd like to add onto it more since i think a lot of people underestimate how crazily perceptive he is. for one, despite not being too close with a bunch of the other sides, he seems to be able to read their insecurities and play them against them really well. we see it in the way he uses virgil's insecurities of being an ex-dark side against him. we see it in the way he picks on patton and thomas' morality crisis against them. we see it in the way roman describes remus as someone being able to show him things he doesn't like about himself. and most importantly, we see it in the way remus constantly reaps the fact that logan isn't listened to to the point that logan snaps. as intrusive thoughts, remus' job is to see what deepest darkest secrets thomas and the sides suppress and use it against them.

at the moment, we don't really know if remus has any weaknesses, although wtit sort of implies that he himself is also quite irritated by the fact that thomas doesn't listen to him. he does a good way of hiding, though, how much of that problem is genuinely affecting him. it makes me think he's also smart in the way he's able to hide his vulnerabilities and true intentions from the other side. he's silly and goofy and lewd and because of that, everyone thinks he's harmless. the sides think he's unserious, and so does the fandom. but deep down, remus really isn't that stupid. 

and LASTLY, when beta reading this essay, orb also mentioned to me about how remus possesses cognitive flexibility in a way roman doesn’t. this isn’t meant to discredit roman of course, but i think it’s important to mention that remus is the side with the least amount of restrictions when it comes to creative liberties. orb mentioned to me how remus is able to connect concepts easily in a way roman doesn’t because remus doesn’t operate under the same self-restrictive mindset. while this obviously would help thomas become more innovative as a creative, i think it’s also important to recognize how much thomas kind of needs it in general. much of the latter half of the series shows thomas dealing with restrictions, especially when it comes to doing good. it would be great benefit for thomas to be able to listen to a side who generally wants to Have a Good Time, and doesn’t abide by rules imposed onto them.

and yes that is my essay on remus 100/10 best character and is not dumb at all. very excited to see him in the finale and i hope y’all’s get your characterizations straight because i need me some good fics 

[autisticlancemcclain]

parts one two three four

———

Lance wants to bolt the second they step out of the castle, but he knows better than that. So he waits, watching them carefully from the windshield (he’s got no better word for it, okay) of the bridge until they’re itty bitty specks. Then he throws on his backpack, grabs his scanner, waves to his pets, and runs in the direction the beast was last seen.

He keeps up a pretty quick pace for a while, not bothering to muffle his footsteps — he doesn’t want to startle the poor thing — and keeps his ears peeled for the sounds of a large animal making its merry way through the woods.

By ‘large’, he means ‘unfathomably gigantic’, because everything on this planet seems to be. Every tree is as wide as four Hunks, and taller than the castle. The various small woodland critters he’s seen running around have been at least the size of Pidge. Idly he wonders how the hell the evolution on this planet even worked, because all the flora and fauna seems to be gigantic, but the people here aren’t much bigger than humans.

He eventually starts to hear the sound of running water, and wastes no time following it. If he’s correct — and he truly thinks he is, as does Coran — this beast will be sitting carefully by the river’s bank, waiting for fish to swim close to it.

See, Lance is almost sure this beast is the planet’s equivalent to a grizzly bear.

And he’s positive it’s injured.

It’s the only thing that makes sense! He did some light research last night, and discovered that the planet is right in the midst of their springtime. He also discovered that, over the winter months, the planet’s city limits had expanded pretty dramatically, cutting into a large chunk of the forest. Lance believes the new city limits bled into the bear’s hunting grounds, and when the bear woke from hibernation in the spring and went looking for food, it ran into the new neighbourhoods. Startled, of course, it got defensive, only further terrorizing the people. Lance thinks that the bear was dazed enough to be hurt by the city’s armies, and now the bear is in pain and full of anger towards the new animals in its territory.

Of course it’s attacking.

Now, if only the team stopped a goddamn second to listen, and I wouldn’t have this problem, Lance thinks to himself, but pushes the thought away just as quickly, scowling to himself.

He forces himself to pause the reflection and save it for later, because it’s not the right time. He’s on a mission. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, let alone have time to be mad at the team.

It’s just as well that Lance pulled himself out of his thoughts, because straight ahead, looking at him warily, is the bear.

And oh, what a beast it is.

The dignitary — not to give him any goddamn credit, the bastard — was barely exaggerating. The bear is huge. It’s definitely not bigger than a castle, sure, but it’s big enough that Lance knows to keep a respectful distance, and right now the bear is sitting. He can’t imagine how scary it would be on a rampage.

For the first time, a tiny tendril of guilt crawls up his spine. The dignitary might be a pompous dick, but Lance is starting to realise that’s coming from a place of genuine fear, for themself and for the people they represented.

(Lance is still not going to kill the bear, obviously. It’s not the bear’s fault that it’s scary. But Lance is willing to admit that he did not handle the situation with the dignitary like an adult, and especially not like a paladin, and probably owes them a bit of an apology.)

“Hey, there,” Lance says softly, slowly swinging off his backpack and setting it down in front of him.

The bear growls in warning.

“I know, I know, you like your space. I’ll stay over here for now.”

Without looking away, Lance crouches down, blindly searching around the bag until his hand wraps around the two objects he’s looking for. He slowly takes them out and carefully sets one of them — a back of Altean-style dehydrated wild berries — on the ground in front of the bag. With his other hand, he pours a steady stream of water on the pouch, and he and the bear both watch as the pile of berries gradually grows in size until it’s the size of Lance himself.

Lance sits next to them, criss-cross-applesauce, with his backpack on his lap.

“These are for you,” he says, tone even. “I figured it might be pretty hard for you to forage or hunt right now. You must be hungry.”

Logically, it should be impossible for the bear to understand him. But it must like his tone, because slowly — ever so slowly — it uncurls, keeping a careful eye on Lance as it limps over to him and the berries next to him.

Its legs are the size of Earthen tree trunks. Its head alone is bigger than Lance. Its teeth —visible now that its mouth is open, tongue hanging out, salivating in anticipation of the wonderfully juicy berries — are sharper than any razor.

Lance should be afraid.

He’s not.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful thing,” he coos as the bear leans forward and takes a tentative bite from the pile.

The bear side-eyes him — a look that so clearly says ‘bitch, please’ that Lance can’t help his laugh.

“And you take no shit, huh?”

The bear grunts, apparently deciding the berries are safe, and then digs the hell in. It devours the pile so quickly that it’s there in one second and gone in the next.

Once the pile is finished, the bear turns to look at Lance expectantly.

Lance holds his hands up. “I got nothing!”

The bear huffs — no, really — and ambles closer to Lance. It lowers its great head down, and with a nose bigger than Lance’s head, starts sniffing Lance’s backpack for more.

Lance laughs again. “There’s nothing in there, you silly creature. No food, anyway.”

The bear finally decides he’s telling the truth — or, more likely, doesn’t smell any more food — and flops to the ground, looking to Lance in what he can only describe as petulance.

“I have no more food,” Lance says again. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly, and carefully rests his hand in between the bear's cute little ears when it makes no move to stop him. “But I might have more help for you, though.”

The bear rumbles. Lance takes this as an indication to continue.

“I noticed you were limping. Your front right leg. You’ve got some matted blood on there, too. If you’ll let me, I can clean that wound, stitch it right up, and you’ll be as good as new. That sound okay?”

The bear doesn’t make any more noise, but it does flop over on its side, leaving its right side up for access.

Lance takes a deep breath.

“Okay, big guy. Let me fix you up.”

He gathers up his bag and walks over to the wounded leg in question. He inspects it, but can’t really see the wound under all the blood.

“I’m going to clean it first, okay? I’ll get some river water first. That’ll be better than antiseptic.”

The bear grunts.

Lance grabs a clean cloth out of his bag — really, it’s a queen-sized sheet, but in comparison to the bear looks as small as the tiniest of rags — and soaks it in the frigid river, ringing it out as best as he can with his tiny human hands.

He walks back over to the bear and begins gently wiping away the nasty, coagulated blood from matted fur. It takes a while, but he’s eventually able to see the wound.

He does not like what he sees.

The wound starts cleanly, like it was a cut, but then looks torn, like the flesh was ripped. Lance isn’t sure what weapon may have caused it — that’s more of Keith’s thing — but knows it was certainly no natural cause.

“I’m going to need to apply quite a bit of antiseptic,” he tells the bear, even though the bear most certainly does not know what that is. “It’s going to hurt, but I need to do it, because it already looks a little bit infected.”

He opens his massive tub of antiseptic and holds it out for the bear to sniff. Its giant nose wrinkles, and then it looks pained, but it carefully lays its head back down on the ground and tenses its muscles.

Lance takes that as permission.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” Lance babbles as he pours the horrible chemical over the wound and the bear roars in agony. “I know, I know. I know. It’s okay. Let it out. It’s done, now, once the sting fades.”

The sting must fade eventually, because the bear quiets, although it breathes heavily and remains tense.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispers, petting the first patch of uninjured fur he can reach. “It’s alright. The worst part is over, okay? That hurt so bad that you’ll barely even feel the stitches, okay? Just the smallest pinch.”

The bear whines, high and long, and Lance bites back tears.

This could all be avoided if people just used some compassion, for fuck’s sake.

He closes his eyes and swallows roughly. That’s not fair. It’s unlikely that anyone meant for this to happen, and it’s unfair for Lance to blame people. Sometimes life just sucks.

But it’s his job as a paladin to make it suck marginally less, and by God, he is going to do his job.

“Ready for the stitches, big guy? It’s the second-to-last step.”

Lance reaches into his back again and digs out the absolutely giant suture needle, so big it’s basically a weapon, and the beast-sized sutures. He gets to work carefully stitching up the wound, applying every ounce of Abuela’s sewing lessons into his furrowed brow and steady hands.

It takes a while, but eventually the wound is closed up neatly.

“Almost done,” Lance assures the bear. It makes an almost purring noise in response, which makes Lance beam in delight.

He takes two last things from his pack — some Altean antibiotic numbing ointment, and a mummy’s amount of bandages.

“This’ll be cold,” he warns, before spreading a generous amount of the ointment onto the wound. The bear audibly sighs in relief, slumping further into the ground as its muscles finally un-tense.

Lastly, Lance carefully wraps the wound in the bandages until it’s completely covered, then stands back, hands on his hips, to access his patch job.

“I think you look okay!” he says with a grin. “Try standing.”

The bear gets up using its three unharmed legs, then gingerly applies weight to the injured one once it’s balanced.

It blinks.

It applies more weight.

Suddenly it roars, in delight this time, and ducks its head to nudge Lance gently in thanks. Lance laughs, petting the creature everywhere he can reach.

“You’re welcome!” The bear makes that almost-purr noise again, and Lance sighs. “Now all we gotta do is convince this whole damn planet that you’re a big, giant softie.”

The bear pulls its head away, making Lance pout, and stares at him for a moment.

“What? You have any bright ideas? I, unfortunately, did not plan this far. I kinda thought something would come to me on the way.”

The bear grunts. Then it opens its great jaw, reaching for Lance, but it doesn’t eat him — it carefully hooks Lance’s hoodie in its teeth, lifts him up, and tosses him gently on its back.

Lance blinks.

“Well this is a — development.”

The bear grunts again, pawing at the ground. It starts off down the river, but not in the direction where Lance assumed its cave to be.

It’s headed to the city.

“What’re you — oh,” Lance cries, and is a little embarrassed to be outfoxed by a bear.

“That’s a great idea! If the people see you treating me gently, then won’t be so scared, and I’ll be able to explain. You’re so smart!”

If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think the bear seemed smug.

But he does know better, so he gets comfortable, organizes his pack, and starts planning what he’s going to say to make this whole crisis blow over.

[magickman1234]

Please Ma’am

The cute thick waitress appeared with a tray with what Anne thought was certainly dinner mints and the check. Jen was chanting away oblivious to the world they both were mildly stoned so they missed it until it was placed in front of Jen. A plate with another slice of that chocolate cake. Jen blinked and looked at the waitress.

“Oh uh, you already brought me that, thank you but we want our check please,” she managed between stoner laughs.

“Please ma’am it’s on the house,” the waitress stood stoic like on Jen’s left side.

“Okay but I’m full, please take it back or can I have it to go?”

The waitress didn’t give any indication of a response and stood at attention.

“Please ma’am eat it.”

“What…what do you mean? I’m not hungry I already am stuffed,” Jen laughed as a nervous look crossed her face.

“Please its complements of the house,” the woman said flatly. “It’s special for you, please eat.”

“Well I’m not hungry!”

Suddenly Anne noticed several more waitstaff approached from unseen corners or something. The emptiness of the restaurant dawned on her. Anne shot a nervous look at Jen.

“Hey how about I eat it then?” Anne blurted out. “Umm, I’m sure I’ve got room let me take it…”

Jen nodded in agreement her eyes wide with fear at realizing they were surrounded.

“Oh no ma’am we have a specific dessert for you.”

Anne gulped in fear at that statement.

“Only the blonde can eat this…” the blank faced waitress said.

“You can’t be serious! Omg this is a prank right?” Jen looked from stern faced waitstaff to waitstaff.

Her eyes went wider the lack of response and strange blank stares were making her panic. She looked at Anne who was just as nervous.

“Do you need help ma’am?” Said one random waitperson.

There were now an impossible number of waitstaff surrounding them. The crowd stared waited on the now scared Jen to respond.

“Help? What the tuck does that mean?”her fear transmuted to anger.

It was too much so she stood up. Angry as she turned to make her way between two of them. Rapidly hands clasped her shoulders and she was turned to the table as she screamed and shouted. No real response but to hold her down harder as she struggled to get free. Her last year of overindulgence and pot smoking left her weak and flabby. Her once semi-fit body render lard by too many years in Covid isolation and freely available pot and junk food. She realized her weigh was easily used against her as she plopped into the chair easier when pushed. Two held her down. Anne watched frozen in terror as the original waitress picked up the plate.

“Please eat ma’am. It’s on the house.”

Monotone like a weary employee at the local grocery store reminding their five thousandth customer to keep to some mindless policy. The plump rocker chick bounced and jiggled as they held her. The cruelty of her fate not lost on her. All those indulgences had added up. The waitress first put it in front of her but she resisted and even tried to spit on it. The waitress was uncanny and dodged that plus several attempts to bite her hand. A strong hand grabbed Jen’s shoulder length hair and yanked her head up. The grip was vise like at her shoulders as the waitress picked up a good chunk of the slice. Another hand squeezed her nose shut until she gasped for air and the chocolate cake went into her mouth cruel hand shoved into all into her mouth as she struggled to spit it out. She chewed and gulped the waitress looked her in the eyes as Jen’s wide eyes teared up. A meek helpless pleading look to the waitress did nothing as the hand staid over Jen’s mouth. The second half came and muffled cries and more tears the whole piece was gone down her throat. Gasping for air the fat girl begged them to stop as another even bigger piece came.

“No, no, no! Please! I’m so full!”

No mercy the whole piece came forth. Anne could only watch as Jen struggled to keep up as a who;e chocolate cake came out. She watched her friend beg again as Jen rubbed her sore distended belly. They had just finished a feast! They held her down again and the force feeding harsher as Jen moaned in pain and humiliation to keep up. Chocolate smeared all over her fat face as tears trailed her dark makeup down her pale plump cheeks. They were savage and bits of cake were all over her.

“Oh god no! Please tell me,e that cake isn’t for me! I’ll explode! I’ll explode if you make me look at another piece!” She earnestly begged.

Anne teared up too they made eye contact and shared several useless nonverbal pleas to try something until that fourth piece came to Jen’s face. Drunk from food and stoned she submitted more fully and started to eat it without completely being forced to. Something fucked happened and she found she loved it part way through. There was an irresistible and irresponsible urge to finish it as she felt her stomach hit its limited as she finished an immense belch escaped her. There was an odd sense of relieve as her stomach went from taut to relaxed with the burp. In fact she felt her whole body relax. Anne screamed as flesh poured out from her friend’s plump body. Jen moaned in fear and pleasure as she felt herself up. Her skin burned with joy and her panties wet as they squeezed her enhanced fupa. Her belly was hit the hardest. Anne stood and her wait people grabbed her. At her edge of awareness a tray with a huge pie behind was behind Anne. Jen grabbed her tummy fat as she edged to an orgasm with the next slice as she eagerly gobbled it up. She saw the spark of arousal in Anne as clap of fat asscheeks on a seat before they forced Anne to eat a slice of blueberry pie. Anne didn’t last long at all as she moaned for joy the reality of a fantasy given flesh was too much for her. She rubbed her thighs together in a tempt to stimulate herself. Her panties beyond soaked as she fluttered eyed on the edges of orgasm as she gobbled it up. Someone lifted her skirt up and slapped her fat right asscheek mostly bare with her thong. She nearly came her pussy sore from getting so excited too fast. She was honestly too aroused to come.

“Don’t resist Jen it feels so much better!”

Another swift ass slap to her left cheek made her cry out for joy. She left herself start to widen as she ate the second piece of pie. Lost in the pleasure of it all she felt her belly and her hips as they hand fed her. She was certainly filling out but it was not fat! She glanced at her hands and saw they were blue and her legs were turning deeper blue. The truly impossible reality of juice under her skin hit her as she watched the slow growth of herself. The fear long gone she moaned for joy as her hands felt her spreading ass.

[waxingrunes]

i’m sure you get plenty of asks like these when you receive the shit about bottom remus and top sirius, but i still wanted to send it.

i think the way people continuously have been giving you and others shit for liking a big remus/small sirius or, dom remus/sub sirius dynamic is silly. i’m not deep in this fandom, i enjoy from a distance but it’s rare i see “your side” (for lack of a better phrase) give the other shit like they give you. who fucking cares. personally, i enjoy a bigger, dominant remus, and a smaller, submissive sirius. if i come across art or a fic where remus is subbed out and crying will i be interested? probably not. will i give the creator shit? absolutely not. why? because these people are NOT REAL. this is fiction! and it’s THEIR work. if you want a submissive remus, find a creator that makes that and enjoy their content! don’t try to fucking force a creator who doesn’t do that to switch their style for you or a little subsection of the internet. personally, i don’t believe there’s any harm in a request, but if the creator declines, respect that and move on. don’t hate on their content in a little discord group.

people have their preferences, and at the end of the day we’re all just perverted (a good chunk of us at least) nerds that like dead gay wizards. everyone should just be able to enjoy what they want to enjoy, and let others do the same. there are bigger issues in the world than the size of remus lupin’s dick or whether or not he should be calling sirius daddy. enjoy what you want to enjoy, let people create what they want to create. who fucking cares.

sorry for the rant. rarely scroll along on here and coming across all the shit you’ve been getting irked me and i needed to comment. just know you have plenty of people supporting you making whatever fucking content you want to create. we’re all just happy to see whatever work you give us, you’re talented and that talent is not wasted in the slightest.

Fuck, thank you. You and all the others (I was a bit overwhelmed coming back to all the asks you glorious bunch) have my heart. Happy to be floating around in the relaxed side of the fandom that endorses liking what you want to like. Seek out what does it for you and enjoy it, smear it all over your feeds, eat it for all your meals I don’t care. Online is not fucking real and folk need to let go some of this anger over people busting their nut to something fictional they don’t like.

Also, I’m a big time pervert and love my boys how I love my boys. Big soft boy Remus and smaller smart mouthed Sirius will always be my visual brand, no matter their positions in the bedroom.

My life is busy and full offline so I’ve been lacking in engagement here. Generally, I don’t do well keeping up with social things, I barely scroll anymore, I just like to draw and churn out my boys when my brain gets tickled. But thank you to all the people who have sent me messages, I read all of them just won’t be clogging up my followers feed with all your love because that’s obnoxious and GOOEY.

[til-f]

PJO Show Thoughts. Episode 7: We find out the truth (not)

Alright. I just don't even know. I thought the pacing was marginally better here. Scenes flowed nicer. And I thought the dialogue wasn't so useless.

Yay!!!! Crusty scene!!!!!!

Literally right off the fucking BAT, the first words in the episode are percy explaining exactly what's going to happen, who crusty is, no shenanigans, no mystery, no fun villain scene, nothing. oh my FUCKING GOD, it's every good scene THEY RUIN IT its CRAZY. ACTUALLY CRAZY.

It's the same shit every episode. Oh, fun monster scene where the monster tries to trick them and the fight builds while we figure out who the monster is???? NOPE!!! it's actually complete bullshit. it's ridiculous. where's rick????

Okay I see the red ball. yay!

I'll live with the plot changes even though it sucks. I'll live with it. it's just bad show writing that i'm annoyed with now.

OH MY GOD WHY IS SALLY SUCH A BITCH !!! lolollollL

I did miss the scene were percy bribes charon to let them pass. why change that. why take out a fun bit like that. instead they're like, take everything charon!!! we're so stupid, just let us into the underworld so I can save my mom !!!!!

The cerberus scene was way more complicated than it needed to be lol. but I think the underworld was cool

Back to 3 pearls.... I think rick is just trying to annoy us now.

I do like the flashbacks. My dumbass is just hoping that it all transitions very beautifully into percy's fallen hero arc but these are just my dumb dreams !!!!!!

So annabeth is gone? okay

The root/regret/ thing was completely unnecessary psychology that was stupid

The tartarus, shoe bit was good

"is this our stop, or?" LOL

Hades is weird and awkward and way to cheerful. this god is supposed to be a scorned, jaded ass, lazy, arrogant, bastard, dripping with grease and jealousy and grudges.

DID YALL SEE WHERE HADES WAS LIKE, FOLDING LAUNDRY??? LMAO WHAT

Hades sucks

I just wanted the line, "I'll find your helm, Uncle. I'll return it." nope!!

I guess hades is offering to protect them? because there's going to be a war with kronos and he wants the master bolt for protection ?????? SLOW YOUR ROLL WRITERS. WE'RE NOT FUCKING THERE YET. EVEN WHEN THE WAR WAS A C T I V E L Y occuring hades didn't give a FUCK. whatever. now i'm anger. plus, nothing about how hades sent the furies.... it didn't seem like hades thought percy stole his helm, which was like,,,,, teh whole ass point. jesus christ

Poseidon is meh

Sally is meh

I guess their convo was fine, i didn't mind it. I liked when poseidon was saying that he'll be there for percy, when he knows who he is. Which is cool, even though who percy should "be" is very different to sally. I can't wrap my brain around what the writers want me to be thinking, you know?

no mention again of how they're past the solstice deadline??? you'd think that would have been a bigger deal but OKAY

ares is the best god by far at this point

overall, I really shouldn't be spending so much of my limited free time writing these long posts about the episodes, when I have been getting well, not a whole lot of pleasure watching them. but these characters are still my babies, and I will continue to support the making of the show even though it's blowing chunks. Rick

See yall next week for episode 8: Where's the Damn Fishing Chair Throne

[fandom-imagination-ss]

IMAGINE: Derek hale destroying your tire so you can't leave Mid fight

You and Derek rarely have fights.

Not since you graduated high school and told Scott and his pack to Suck it.

Between your cousin Scott lying to you for years about the werewolf thing, being shot in my shoulder by Stiles / Void Stiles by an Arrow. And getting No explanation for it. No one told you what he'll be going on. Until Peter mentioned it and Derek tried to shield you from the truth. It only made you mad. So when Graduated you just left no goodbyes nothing.

But time changes a person, you Forgave your cousin, his hot best friend Stiles, and when Life gave you a curve ball and you returned to Beacon Hill. you gladly became friends with Malia and Started Dating Derek. 

the Fight was Stupid. It wasn’t an Earth-shattering Fight, it was a simple Stupid Fight. Derek Forgot about your Dinner date. that you were looking forward to all week. because he was so focused On work fixing a Fancy car. the Idiot who brought in the classic Car. had the Brilliant Idea that if he put Painters’ tape throughout the Entire Car. covering Every Inch of the Car it would protect the paint job... Between the Heat of the Sun beating down on the moving car. and the fact. he used cheap ass painter’s tape. he destroyed the car.. the tape he started peeling off. and took Large chunks of the paint. 

Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal that Derek forgot about Date night. bot after the week of hell you dealt with your co-workers. your boss putting a pass at you. again. and you have to file another report to HR. who just swept it under the Rug and then dealt with Eli. Stealing the Jeep Again for the fifth time. this month, and to Top it all off you were Late... you only realized it today once you were getting ready for date night that you weren’t just a little late. you were 3 weeks late. your Plan was to have a wonderful Date night with your man. Slip off to the pharmacy to snag a pregnancy test and hope along and take it. in the store. because you knew. that Derek and Eli would find it at home. That was your Mission for the night. But Derek came home covered in Grease complaining about how the painter taped around the exhaust pipe that the idiot put on. burnt the pipe. and that led to discovering the Oil was leaking and it was a bigger task than he expected. you stood wearing your summer dress with a jean jacket as he looked at you stunned, “why are you dressed all cute?” 

“Date night?’ 

Derek rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘rain check? I’m exhausted?” he walked over kissing your head as he suggested ordering a Pizza instead as you called him a butthead.  and grabbed your keys and decided you would go to Walgreens and Skip Part 1 of your plans. and go straight to getting the Test. you were sitting in your car at a Red light. the road was empty. as the light turned green. your Car jumped. but didn’t move. you quickly turned to see Derek standing behind your car. as he’s claws were slowly going back to normal. your jaw dropped as you quickly un did your seatbelt as you shot out. seeing he sliced your back seat driver side tire. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND!” Screaming you walked over lookign at your tire it was ruined no fixing it. you would have to replace it complete.y “My Car!” 

‘you don’t get to just Leave!” Derek was trying to contain his anger as you looked up at him. 

“I was coming right Back after I hit Walgreen you Jack ass!” 

‘you called me Butthead!” 

your anger was sidetracked at hearing the hurt ins his voice hearing him say that as you blinked stunned, “I’ve called you So much worst! your fixing this!’ Derek crossed his arms tightly as he snapped, “the last time you called me a butt head you disappeared for three years! you don’t get to just leave because I forgot date night!” 

“I was just going to Walgreens! I wasn’t Leaving! I stormed off  yes but I intended to COME BACK!” you groaned as he spoke, ‘what was so important that you needed to go to Walgreen you sick?’ 

“No. I just- needed.. female products.” 

A pregnancy test counts don’t it?  you hoped he couldn’t tell the difference as he stared at you, “I’ll fix your car. and we can go-” 

you shook your head as you crossed your arms, “you can fix my car, and we Can go home! and we are getting burgers. and im getting a milkshake and we are going to watch whatever i want! I can’t believe you Jump from Butthead to me Running off? where would I go? your my Heart!” 

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, “it was Rough the first time you left.. you just called me a fucking Butthead and then you were gone i didn’t even get to know hwere you were” 

“Derek- to be fair.. we weren’t close back then you kept your distance.- I would Never leave you.. if i leave you- i’m taking you with me. i’ll stuff you into my trunk- your stuck with me forever.” 

he nodded his head stepping over as he cupped your head softly, “im sorry - I overreacted and broke your Car.” 

you nodded your head, “Sorry I called you a butthead and stormed off I just- it’s been a rough week.. and I was looking forward to just you and me time.” he sighed heavily soothing your hair, ‘you did look beautiful. you do look beautiful, lets get this car fixed and go have a date.” you smiled weakly as you spoke, “by the time you fix the tire, i’ll be passed beauitful and want to go home.. Lets just fix it. and go home. and order in.” he nodded his head saying okay kissing your lips as he pulled back as you helped him take your tire off, and use your replacement. that he forced you to have in your trunk. when the car was fixed you kissed him and said you would meet him at home as you drove to Walgreens. 

you only ever taken a pregnancy test Once, when you were in university. your roommate was worried about taking one so you took one with her. you weren’t pregnant. you weren’t at all in danger of having a bun in the oven. but Now? Now you were in a relationship with a guy who looks like the Greek Gods carved out out of marble! your relationship was at the ‘honeymood” stage... bene together for almost six years. and your “Fun time” was Very much Healthy Relationship. and Sure.. Sometimes you both get caught in the moment and forgot to be smart. and responsible! 

Which as you stood at the walgreens counter paying for your Pregnancy Test yo were shocked you were here. buying a test. Sure Rationally you knew, you weren’t excatly “Safe’ 100% of the time.. especially lately. But it still surprised you. you were just paying when Derek came in. and caught sight of you instantly. he’s eyes grew large seeing you holding pregnancy box as he fainted. 

Nothing could perpare you for seeing your boyfriend. falling forward completely passed out in shock as you bolted over to him as you rubbed his arm trying to wake him. he woke up instantly as he looked at you as he spoke, ‘your pregnate?” 

you shook your head, ‘no- well I mean.. I dont kow..” 

“were you going to tell me?” 

“yea.. after i took the test.. I didn’t- I didn’t think taking the test at home would be a good idea..” 

Derek got to his feet as you helped him as he spoke, “why not?’ 

“Derek I was hoping to surprise you with the news.” he rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘okay.... Lets go take it.” 

“What?” he grabbed the box as he spoke, ‘come on. they have a public bathroom.’ 

you laughed but was shocked as he picked you up as you gasped he hosted you over his shoulder as you gasped loudly. as he headed to the bathrooms. getitng itno the  womens bathroom he went to the wheelchair accessable stall and put you down as he spoke, “here you go.” 

he handed the box to you as you spoke, ‘thanks..... we never talked about babies..”  

he nodded his head as he spoke, “I would Love- if you aren’t pregnate.. can we have a baby?” 

you couldn’t help but smile at the way he asked as if he was asking for a puppy. “you want a baby?”  he nodded his head, “I want to have a baby with you. i want our family to grow. I always wanted a big family. you want kids. we talked about this.” 

‘yea- Like on our first date! Derek!” 

“is it cause we aren’t married yet? Because i’ll pospose right here and we can elope oyu never wanted a big fuss of a wedding!” you couldn’t help but smile. you shook your head fast. 

“as much as getting postpose to in the bathroom. is intoxicating. can we pick another time to ask me.. Like when we aren’t in a public bathroom?” 

he sighed heavily as he stepped over, “just- can you pee on the stick? I want to know.” 

you chuckled as you spoke, “well- leave the stall and I’ll do the test.” 

“can’t i stay?” you laughed as you shook your head, “No sicko go!” he grinned slippng out as he closed the stall door as he stayed in the bathroom. you rolled your eyes. Even if he went outside he would still listen in. that’s the problem with having a wereowlf boyfriend. you did what the test required as you walked out. ‘would- it be 50/50 if it’s like you or me right?” 

“yea why? does it matter?” 

“well Yea! if im gonna nurse i dont want my bits bite off! Oh my god! what if i ahve the baby on a full moon! Derek! does it matter? what if-” derek stopped your rambling as he cupped your face softly, “I would be right there to help, and it wouldn’t be like that. just a little babe. and the powers awaken later.” you nodded your head relieved to that as he spoke, ‘So you would want it?” 

you nodded your head softly, “A Chance to see you with daughters. Hell yea.” 

he chuckled softly as he spoke, “not a boy?” 

“Nope a girl.” he smiled to that as you reached up cupping his face kissing him. when the 2 minutes were up. it was your time to faint. as Derek caught you. you were infact. pregnant.

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 4. THE FINAL EXAM

❝Brave birds still fly through the fog.❞

Vespertilio M.List

Previous | Next

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

recap

Moving towards your own station, a look of determination is set on your face.

'Time for Plan B: Do the bare minimum and go after the faux villain with zero points to say at least I tried when I truly didn't to commence!'

|

|

You take a glance at the students around you, some having faces of confidence while others looked damn near ready to drop out.

'Okay,' after a deep breath and some short stretches you walk up closer to the gates,'let's do this!'

Right as you finish your pep talk, Present Mic's voice fills the arena.

"Start!"

You burst into a sprint, leaving the gawking and still frozen students behind in the dust as you move further into the simulated city.

"Remember listeners, there are no countdowns in a real battle! So go! You're wasting time!"

Not even a minute later the sounds of explosions and battle-cries appeared.

You had to admit, these kids were beasts when it comes to wanting to get into UA.

One moment you'd see a 1pointer, and when you blink, it was gone; bits and pieces of metal being the only evidence it ever existed.

A good portion of your time consisted of you avoiding any robots while also dodging numerous fallen metal scraps.

With your only tasks being not being flattened or spotted, it gave you enough time to observe the 'competition'.

And truth be told, you felt bad for most of them.

While those with flashier quirks stole both the show and villain points, others resorted to finding other ways to gain points - some not at all.

"Dammit!"

Your head instinctively snaps towards the source of the angered shout.

He seemed to also dodge and avoid any falling metal while failing to destroy any of the robots.

A cracking sound echoes through the air.

You look up in time to see a destroyed robot fall back into a building, causing a big chunk to break off and tumble down.

Right above the boy.

"H-hey! Look out!" Your panicked scream makes the indigo-haired boy stop and look at you in confusion.

'Shit shit shit!'

Without a second to waste, you rush over, dodging any debris on the ground as the shadow of the falling piece of rock gets bigger.

"Fucking MOVE! IT'S GONNA FLATTEN YOU!!"

It seemed your words were finally processed in his head when he looks up.

His eyes widen in fear, body frozen from shock.

Putting all you have in your legs, you let out a shout and jump.

The boy releases an oof when your body makes in contact with his, both of you rolling and tumbling across the concrete just as the debris hits the ground.

Your eyes are closed, heart thundering in your chest as you lay on the rapidly beating ground.

Wait...rapidly beating ground?

You immediately sit up, looking down at the boy you somehow ended up landing on.

He could only stare up at you in surprise as your arms caged the side of his head like some cliche romance story.

With a yelp, you roll off him and kneel next to his still laid figure.

"A-are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" With a quick yank, he's pulled into a sit-up position.

"I'm...I'm fine," He ignores your second question and gets up with a sigh, "just bit off more than I can chew apparently. Couldn't even avoid some falling rocks...seems I'm not hero material after all."

You notice the way his hands clench into fists as he says that.

Not wanting to deal with whatever life problems he has on his own, you began to walk away.

That is until you suddenly picture Izuku in that same position of being told he wasn't hero-worthy.

"You know you shouldn't listen to them."

He looks at your back with furrowed brows. "Huh?"

"Whoever told you those lies. That you'll never become a hero. You shouldn't give up just because some bastard tells you to do so. Quirk or quirkless, villain or hero categorized quirk. Show them you mean business. That you have a goal and plan to stick with it."

His eyes widen at your words.

For years, that's all he's been told: he would be a villain. His quirk wasn't meant for good, but evil.

To hear a random stranger finally speak the exact words he's always wanted someone to say, the fire in his heart was set ablaze.

"Hitoshi Shinso...my name is Hitoshi Shinso."

"Well HitoshiShinso," you turn to look at him with a smile, "are you gonna prove that you're more than just society's standards of a hero? Or are you just gonna quit?"

Taking his silence as an answer, you give him a wave and continue walking. "Look forward to seeing your success, HitoshiShinso! Who knows, you might be the one saving me next time we meet~"

═════════════════*˚✿❀༓❀✿＊˚*══════════════════

Minutes pass of you sneaking and passing through the fake city, occasionally helping a fellow participant whenever they're in trouble.

'Eh, what's the least that could happen? Not like I'm getting graded on helping...'

You stumble at the feeling of large tremors shaking through the ground, screams and crying reaching your ears not a second later.

You immediately dash forward, sidestepping students as they run towards the way you came from.

"Run! It's the zero-pointer!" A passing person screams out as they continue to run away.

"Wait...zero-pointer?" It took a moment before you realized what that meant causing you to bounce in excitement, "hell yes! Time to start Plan B!"

Not wanting to waste any more time, you speed towards where the zero-pointer should be.

"Wha-where are you going?!"

"You idiot! Go this way!"

"You're going to get yourself killed!"

You snort at their words. "Come on! Do you really think they're going to let children get hurt in this? I bet it's not even...that...oh shit."

Your words trail off once you take a good look at what they were running from.

There in all its glory stood the zero-pointer, enormous enough to fill the entire street while its claw-like hands caused nearby buildings to crumble just by a brush.

"Well damn...I see why y'all running." Releasing a sigh, you simply turn around with a shrug and get ready to follow the escaping crowd, "Welp, Plan B is out. So let me just go and—"

Your body stiffen at the sound before you could see them.

Screams, full of panic and distress.

Eyes zooming around the area as the thundering footsteps get nearer, you finally spot them: two people stuck in its path.

With one injured in the leg, the other was there for support as they try to run away.

Fortunately, it appeared you were the only one to notice. Unfortunately, it meant they were going to be squashed by the zero-pointer.

'Okay, I'll just grab its attention and go down another pa—' Your planning was cut off by another round of screams.

Searching for the cause, you see the zero-pointer's hand knocking into a nearby building causing some debris to crumble and fall.

Right where the two students were located.

"Are you shitting me?!"

Your heart thunders as you rush over to them, the world seems to fall into slow motion as you see them cower in preparation of getting hit.

'Think think think! It's too far to run and Zuki isn't here to take the rosary off. What can I do?!'

Body frantically moving, you pause at the familiar weight in your skirt pocket.

"Of course!"

Quickly grabbing the pouch of seeds, you grab the mini bag labeled grapes and pour the tiny seeds into your palm.

"Please let this work," with a quick mutter under your breath, you force the seeds into rapid growth and make the thick vines grow into a dome-like shape.

Not a second later, a heavy thud hits the vines.

You grit your teeth, body slightly shaking as you force the vines to hold up a little longer.

Sounds of awe come from the two students, you look up only to realize they were staring at you.

"Hi, name's Akashiya ____! Love meeting you and all," a strained smile is given as your knees began to buckle, "but I'd really appreciate it if you could leave and hide from that zero-pointer's view. Mind doing that?"

"O-oh right! Thank you for saving us, it's very manly of you!" The black-haired boy breaks out of the trance first and sends you a sharp toothy smile.

Sending him a sharp head jerk towards the direction of a couple of fallen debris to hide behind, he catches the hint and takes the injured girl away.

"The name's Kirishima Eijiro by the way!" His fading voice makes you relax in relief.

"Whew! Now that's ove—"

Your words are cut off by the sudden crash of both vines and pieces of rock.

On top of you.

Kirishima's wide eyes stare at the pile, mouth dropped open as he became a witness of a possible death.

It wasn't until he heard a few hacking coughs did he spot your disheveled form fanning away the floating dust around.

"Are you alright?!"

"Yeah!" You scratch the back of your head with a sheepish grin, "Turns out I relaxed too much after you left. Caused my powers to weaken and crash. B-but I'm fine, the rocks fell behind me. Look!"

Jumping up, you give a huge thumbs up causing the boy to let out a small laugh.

"TARGET ACQUIRED."

Once again, damn.

A jolt of fear travel down your spine, body shaking as you face the zero-pointer before you.

You just had to jump around like a dumbass just to prove to some cute boy that you're alright.

Not to mention your juice pack. Oh, your uneaten juice pack! Poor baby was the only thing that truly faced harm by the collapse.

Half of its contents was wasted, leaving a giant bloodstain covering the side of your skirt as the finishing result.

And so, this is how you're going to leave the world: dead with blood on your skirt as if you had the period of a lifetime.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you back away from the metal beast only to stop at the debris-made wall behind you.

At this point, you wished everything actually did collapse on top of you when it fell. At least they can say you died saving others.

You blink at a sudden realization. "Wow. I'm really gonna die a hero. The one thing I've avoided doing for nearly fifteen years of my life. The irony I tell ya."

The zero-pointer loomed over your trembling form.

Adrenaline rush faded, your exhausted body refused to take another step.

'Move...why won't you move!' Hands clenched into fists, flashes of your parents fill your head, flashes of Izuku's smiling face, hell even a scowling Bakugo.

Your head bows as tears continue to spill from your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you accepted defeat.

Unbeknownst to you, your rosary begins to glow, steadily growing brighter which each passing second.

"AKASHIYA GET AWAY FROM THERE!" Kirishima's shrill scream was the tipping point.

The rosary's red glow suddenly cuts off.

The once healthy flowers in your hair suddenly wilt and fall to the ground. Silvery white bleeds into your locks until no strand of [hair color] is left behind.

Your eyes open, revealing a set of blood-red irises.

The slitted pupils in your eyes thin as they take in the situation around them, landing on the charging faux villain with a hint of humor in them.

"Oh? Seems to be a test of some sor—"The zero-pointer punches the spot you're standing at causing a scream of disbelief to fall from Kirishima and other examinees around.

Dust billows around the area as people began to murmur.

"Is...is she dead?"

"I never knew there would be actual deaths in these exams..."

"Poor girl."

Kirishima's pupils shake as he continues to stare at where he last saw you.

Nothing but a crater and a patch of blood as a reminder of your existence.

You saved him...

...only to die.

"Poor girl indeed,"��the dust clears revealing you standing a few feet away from the crater with a blank, unamused face, "not only did you try to defeat me by some measly punch, but you even wasted the rest of my lunch. Tsk tsk, didn't your creator ever teach you manners?"

The robot attempts to attack you again only to fail.

Within a blink, you appear on the robot's shoulder. "Hmm...appears not."

You avoid the grappling hand and jump onto its other shoulder.

"Let me make it clear, you scrap piece of metal."

With a small lift of your foot, you stomp on its arm, causing the metal to tear off and land on the ground with a loud thud.

You miss the gawks and gasps of the audience around you as you focus on the zero-pointer.

"I'm not one to be trifled with." You do the same to its other arm, leaving it defenseless as it stands there.

Even so, the faux villain continues to walk up to you as if it can still beat you. A small smile pulls at your lips.

"You know...I'm actually in awe. Such drive, such motivation," your smile drops, a snarl of disgust taking its place, "almost pitiful to watch. Robot or not, you will never defeat me!"

Jumping into the air with such grace, you land a kick to its head, sending the metal contraption meters away until it finally lands with a blinding explosion.

You brush your hair back with an indignant sniff. "Just as I thought: weak..."

"TIME'S UP!" The booming voice of Present Mic fills the area.

People immediately flock towards you asking question after question only to stop with one sharp glare.

Most deciding their life is better to have, they continue towards the exit to seek help for any injuries.

"Recovery Girl is on her way, so just stay tight!"

"T-thank you for trying to help me earlier."

"Of course! It wouldn't have been very manly of me if I hadn't."

Your body stiffens. Taking another breath of air, the slits in your eyes thin once again as a sweet scent fills your nose.

'Mmmm, so there are others like him.'

Kirishima flinches at the sudden sight of you before him. "A-akashiya!"

Everything about you was different. From the change of hair color to the disappearance of the calming scent you gave off.

Your eyes are what troubled him the most.

No longer did they hold a certain kind of warmness in them, but instead pure coldness.

His body shakes as you continue to observe him, it took nearly all the self-control he has to keep himself from running away.

Especially when you grab his chin and force him to look at you.

"Yes, you will do," his brows furrow in confusion until you look him dead in the eyes, "when I faint, offer me your neck."

A flush fills the boy's face. "W-what?!"

"That shouldn't be too hard. It's the least you could do after I risked both my life and wasted my food saving you." You narrow your eyes at him, daring him to defy.

Kirishima mouth purses. 'She's right. It's the least I could do. What kind of man would I be if I can't help a fellow comrade in need!'

With a sigh, he gives you a nod despite his eyes still shining with hesitation. "Alright...I'll do it."

Just as he says that, your rosary turns back on, causing your retransformation.

He let out a gasp of awe at the sight of your red eyes shifting back to [eye color].

Silver hair turning back into its original [hair color] shade, new pink blossoms bud back into its strands with a scent of nectarine wafting off you once more.

You began to lean with a groan before falling to the ground.

"Woah!" Grabbing your shoulders, Kirishima gently sits on his knees and holds you in his arms. "I've got ya...I've got ya."

You feel someone tenderly brushing some hair from your face and let out a jumbled mass of unintelligible words.

Blinking open your eyes, everything is blurred and out of focus. The only thing you could pick up on was a scent of sweetness.

'Zuki? He's here...that must mean—'

"...blood..."

Even with your word being soft and slurred Kirishima understood.

"U-um...here," though still hesitant, he shyly pulls you closer, giving your mouth clear access to his neck.

Feeling skin against your lips with the beating of a pulse just underneath the layer, you immediately sink your teeth in.

A glow of red directs Kirishima's attention to the rosary hanging at your neck.

Huh?

Why is it glowing?

You let out a sigh of content after a few more moments of drinking Izuku's blood.

Although...something about it tastes different...

Pulling away from his neck, you blink your eyes a few more times only for them to widen in shock.

Ummm...what the FUCK is this?! This ain't Izuku!

Voice caught in your throat, you're unable to speak.

"Are you alright? Did you have enough to drink?" The concern in Kirishima's eyes causes all awkwardness to melt away.

Your lips soften into a smile. "Yeah. Thank you by the way. I'm sure you were uncomfortable doing something like this."

A spiky grin fills your view as he helps you up off the ground. "Nonsense! After you willingly saved me and that girl, I couldn't let you stay weak when I could help. Wouldn't be very manly of me."

"____!"

You turn to see Izuku waving near the entrance of the gate.

"Ah..." Looking back towards Kirishima, you send him an apologetic smile and bow, "I'm sorry! I wish our time was longer, but it seems my friend is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you! Thank you for everything, really I mean it."

A blush fills his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. "I should be the one thanking you for everything! It's the least I could do after you saved my butt. Hopefully, we will end up in the same hero-course class?"

Despite wanting to tell him you most definitely won't end up in hero course due to lack of points, you decide on simply smiling. "Fingers cross. Who knows, we may see each other very soon!"

"Alright!"

With a wave of goodbye, you run towards Izuku with an excited grin, ready to tell him the events of today and vice-versa.

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/747425743348400128/i-made-the-mistake-of-looking-up-xiran-jay-zhaos#notes

Shoulda looked up the twitter, that one's a seeming constant barrage of intensity, sprinkled with self-righteousness and the occasional hitting of completely random "nobodies" for nothing but pleasure it seems.

Also, "always had a bit of a bully personality" honestly, that's beautifully said ONTF. I stopped watching them at some point because something gave me a massive fucking ick in the way they carried themselves, and thinking it through it's exactly that. I was bullied in my youth, I fought back, and that helped, but the scars stay. XJZ seems to almost revel in it when they get to "call" someone out, with a lot of self righteous anger. They don't really seem able to conceive that they're wrong, or they way they say things could be bad in any way, everyone else is wrong.

When it's someone like CaiCor who is did something incredibly heinous, you don't notice it. But when you see how much they seem to love having their followers dogpile people for not agreeing with them or some other petty shit, (who can't handle it) it just gets perverse. Someone lying about your work, should not constitute making your thousands of followers potentially following and harassing that person. And I doubt XJZ doesn't understand it, and doesn't revel in the thought of it, with how often they've posted random tiny accounts and "complained" about them.

Persoanlly, I avoid their twitter like the plague, sans the last time this was a discussion+for this ask, and anyone in affiliated. Sure it's cut out a large chunk of writers who get affiliated through publishing marketing, which is a pity. But from experience, people who stand by a bully either don't care to be against it or might be bullies themselves. And if it takes an even bigger bully, like CaiCor to make the other bully look nicer or more righteous, then that still doesn't make you a good person.

--

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt21

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

----------

Three hours into the event Marvin had to resist the urge to take out his eyeballs from the sheer boredom of just standing around and watching rich people talk about nothing. He thought he was going to hear whispers of affairs or secret children or murdering for a bigger chunk of the will but these rich people only talked about the things they wanted to buy or had already bought. If he heard the word yacht one more time, he was going to scream. 

There was even a massive dancefloor that people weren’t dancing on, they just stood around and continued talking. At least sway or something. There had been hope of someone getting drunk and putting their tie around their head and falling over while trying to dance on wobbly feet. 

But, no. 

They were all just so boring. 

Marvin had lost Jackie in the crowd about fifteen minutes ago and was about to go look for him. It was nice having someone you knew within eyesight, made everything feel less…well…crowded. It was like a safety blanket or something knowing where Jackie was, that if he needed him it wouldn’t take long to get to him. 

“Don’t see a lot of fellas in blue suits nowadays.” A voice said next to Marvin. 

“Hm?” Marvin tried to not sound bored out of his mind even though he was. He turned his head and saw a man who appeared to be his age standing next to him. He wore the classic black and white suit and held a glass of what Marvin assumed was whisky given the color of the drink and the shape of the glass and ice. 

“Looks good on you.” The man said with a chuckle, taking a sip. Something about his energy made Marvin’s skin crawl. He couldn’t find the words for it, but he just didn’t like the man. 

“Thanks.” Marvin used a dismissive tone, hoping the man got the hint. 

“Do you do this kind of work often?”

“No. First time.” 

“Well, you’re doing a fine job for a newbie.” The man had his own hint in his voice and Marvin was on the verge of gagging. 

Don’t make a scene. It’s your first job. Just walk away.

“I need to go do my rounds.” Marvin had to look away so his eye roll wasn’t seen and he stopped when his arm was grabbed, a hand gripping the crook of his elbow. 

“How would you like to make an extra large tip tonight?” The man’s grin actually made Marvin gag. 

Fuck it. We’re breaking fingers. 

“Let. Go.” Marvin said as a warning, giving the man one last chance before body parts went flying. 

“Oh, come on. I promise it’ll be-ow, ow, ow,” The man let Marvin go in favor of covering the hand on his shoulder. The way his knees bent, dropping his drink, and the pure agony in his face showed that the grip on him was strong. 

“He said to let go,” Jackie spoke through gritted teeth, using a tone Marvin didn’t think he even knew how to. 

“I let go, I let go.” The man rambled, still clearly in pain. 

“You’re drunk. Call your ride. Go home.” Jackie ordered. 

“I will, I will, just-fuck man, you're going to break my shoulder.” The man gasped in relief when Jackie finally let him go. “Fucking hell.” He rubbed the spot and walked off while muttering more curses to himself. 

Marvin watched the man walk off, still in shock as he looked at Jackie. He could see the hardness in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the stiffness in his body. It was strange seeing Jackie so serious, so firm and there was an anger of sorts to him. 

“Jackie?” Marvin broke the silence and let out his own breath of relief when, almost like a switch, Jackie was smiling brightly at him. 

“Won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Jackie chuckled. 

“Thank you.” Marvin smiled back. 

“Saving friends from weirdos is what heroes do.” Jackie puffed his chest out, energy back to its usual goofy levels and Marvin had never been so thankful for it.  

“It’s what Jackie does.” Marvin corrected, noting a change in the music. 

The crowd did move and shift. Some of the groups left the dancefloor and soon there was a good collection of couples on it. They danced slowly in a waltz with one another, it feeling too scripted to be real as a young woman in a sparkly gown went on stage and started to sing. Her voice was very lovely and Marvin could see why she’d be hired to perform.  

“Speaking of things that Jackie does.” Jackie took hold of Marvin’s hand and walked him out to the dance floor. 

“You don’t even know how to tie a tie, like hell you know how to waltz.” Marvin was curious about what Jackie had planned so he just went with it. 

“I know a few things.” Jackie let Marvin's hand go when they got to the middle of the dancefloor. “Chase showed me a few moves. Like the cabbage patch.” He started doing the dance he mentioned, having his hands next to each other as he moved them in a rhythmic circle in front of himself.

“Oh, God.” Marvin put a hand over his mouth to try to hold back a laugh.

 “And the sprinkler.” One hand went to the side of Jackie’s head as he held the other arm out, having his arm go across his body in short jerks.

“A classic.” Marvin gave up on holding his laugh back already.

“And the grocery cart.” Jackie pushed an invisible shopping cart, pretending to pick out items and put them into the cart as he walked around Marvin. 

“You sure you’re not a professional dancer?” Marvin asked with a chuckle. Jackie stopped in front of him, did a little bow, and offered his hand. “Why not?” Marvin shrugged and put his hand in Jackie’s not expecting to be suddenly chest-to-chest with him. The hand that was held was now up in the air next to their heads and he felt Jackie’s other hand on his waist. Marvin placed his own other hand on Jackie’s shoulder and followed his lead. “You are a man of many surprises.”

“Always have to have a few tricks up the sleeve.” Jackie looked very proud at throwing Marvin off and guided them into a small waltz as they continued to speak. 

“Did Chase teach you this as well?” Marvin asked.

“Nah, it was an Iplier.”

“I swear if it was Dark-”

“Dark would pull his hair out trying to teach me anything.” Jackie chuckled. “We kind of have opposite energies.” 

“Like how he’s a prick and you’re a chill guy?” Marvin clicked his tongue. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t call him a prick.”

“An asshole?” 

“Maybe, like, a stick in the mud sometimes?” 

“Sometimes?”

“A lot.” Jackie chuckled. “Oh! I was also taught how to dip people.” 

“Is that your way of asking if you’re allowed to dip me?”

“Maybe.” 

“Go for it.” Marvin figured it’d be the most entertaining part of his night and if Jackie did drop him, he was fast enough to catch him or if he did fall fully, it’d make up for the several falls he caused when they first met. 

“And-” Jackie sang the word before turning Marvin’s body and dipping him. “Ta…da…” He said much softer as he looked down at Marvin and Marvin looked back up at him. 

This was supposed to just be him showing off, a silly dance move that lasted a few moments but this moment stretched on. Something about the way they were just felt right. Marvin’s hand had moved to the back of Jackie’s neck during the shift and the world around them went away, becoming a soft hum of nothingness as they could only feel and hear their own heartbeats.

“Marv…I…” Jackie wasn’t sure what he was going to say and didn’t get to figure it out as someone called for security. “Oh.” He straightened both of them up. “I got it.” 

“Yeah.” Marvin couldn’t find words as well and lowered his hands. 

“Yeah.” Jackie awkwardly echoed before the call happened again. “Duty calls.” He flashed a quick smile and jogged off. 

“That was…weird,” Marvin said to himself, rubbing his arms. He shook his head, telling himself that it was nothing to dwell over, and returned to work. 

Only one more hour and they can go home. 

[corpocyborg]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @illusivesoul. (Thank you!)

I'm going to share a bit from a future chapter of Secure Your Soul, which is my AU where Corpo!V never leaves Arasaka. I have previously posted this bit on tumblr, but it's been edited since then and it's been a while and unfortunately I don't have a lot of new content... so here it is again. 😅

--

CHAPTER TBD: FEED THE DEMON

V wasn't sure how much time had passed, but as she started to regain lucidity, she became gradually aware of Johnny's voice in her head.

"I mean, for fuck's sake, V," Johnny was saying. "I've seen your memories. The things you've done for 'Saka. You've killed. Blackmailed. Ruined lives. And for what? Corporate rep? Profit margins? How do you fuckin’ live with yourself?"

V stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. The alley she was in was abandoned. Litter lined the sidewalk, and the street lamps were barely flickering. In a dark corner nearby, a stray dog was busy devouring a rat.

For a few seconds, V just watched it. Homeless dogs were a rare sight in Night City. This one was dark gray and half its left ear was missing. It looked lean and muscular, and it tore off chunks of its prize with a ferocity that domestic dogs almost never displayed.

"You see that?" she asked Johnny.

Johnny's physical image materialized in the alley. He leaned against the wall—appeared to lean, she reminded herself—and gazed at the dog. "See everything you see," he replied.

"You're looking. You're not seeing."

"That so? And what'm I supposed to be seeing?"

"The evolutionarily synchronized relationship between predator and prey."

Johnny looked up from the dog and stared at her. She could see the anger on his face, but she could also feel him manifesting that same anger inside her body. No matter. She'd make it hers. Anger was an emotion she could work with.

"You see one dog eating one rat," V continued, allowing some of Johnny's anger to seep into her voice, directing it back at him. "In your interpretation, there's one winner and one loser. It's accurate, in a way. The dog wins. Look at him. He's a survivor. Even you should be able to recognize that."

Johnny didn't answer. His image was looking away from her, eyes locked on the warring animals. But she could still feel him fuming. Only now it was hard to tell where his anger ended and hers began. She continued speaking.

"You don't see the bigger picture. For every dog having dinner tonight, dozens starve. For every rat providing the main meal, dozens get away. They're fast enough or clever enough to escape.

"Only the best dogs feed, only the best rats live. And because of this, over generations, both species improve. In the end, the prey species benefits just as much as the predator species does. And the world gets better."

"The world." Johnny repeated the phrase slowly. She tasted his revulsion on her tongue. "This world?" he asked. He gestured at the trash-strewn alleyway. The dog had finished its meal and had settled to sleep in a blanket likely left there before by a homeless person. "This is your brave new world?"

"No, Johnny," she responded, her voice echoing the revulsion he'd forced her to feel. "These are just the rats that got caught."

---

And, now for my tags...

@merge-conflict, @gamerkitten, @luvwich, @fereldanwench and @another-corpo-rat

No pressure of course as always.