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Ludos Imperiales 6

Summary: More battles and more bargains come into play as things go from bad to worse.

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Character Death (Unnamed); Mentions of Slavery/Assault/Incest (the twins are back)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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I’ve aged a decade in the time it takes to get inside the Imperial Palace. The blistering heat makes sweat bead down the back of my dress, every inch of heavy fabric feeling like it’s plastered to my skin. Everything feels too heavy on my body. I need to get home and into the tub, maybe with enough soap and water I will be able to purge the oppressive weight that clings to my skin.

Though I have my doubts. It’s not just the heat or the dirt, it’s this whole place. Everything I have known and loved about the city feels like it has been stripped down to nothing but the oozing, wretched thing that has been hidden beneath golden arches and layers of stark white marble. It reeks of a decay that has nothing to the crucified bodies hanging outside our doors.

Senators and Commanders mingle, wives dripping in expensive jewels hanging from their arms, laughing and talking about how magnificent this celebration for Amarantha is. I’d be shaking with the rage I feel clawing up my insides were it not for the way Rhysand still held me in his mental grip.

“Steady,” he warns for what feels like the fiftieth time today. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay so calm, especially when his men have been taken through the back streets of the city. There is a prison on the outskirts of the capitol, on the eastern wall, hopefully there will be less cruelty on the streets now that they’re away from the parade, but it is still a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It cannot be easy to be forced to stay here, with the enemy at every turn, while your men labor in a dungeon, yet he and Cassian, stand with their heads high behind me.

One of the guards untethered them from the back of my horse, but holding their chain in my hands is just as bad as leading them on horseback. Cassian gives me a wide berth, far enough away that if I take two steps ahead I’ll drag him by the throat. Azriel, however, hovers near my left shoulder, head down like he’s trying to hide, even as I watch his shadows slither down the back of his legs and scatter across the floor in search of something. One still remains coiled around my ear, hidden by my hair.

“Be careful around the twins,” I warn as my cousin catches my eye and makes her way towards us. She’d been too far behind us in the procession for me to see her reaction to the horrors, but, judging by the grin on her usually stoic face, I’d say she enjoyed it. 

Rhysand shifts so he’s standing behind my right shoulder, so I’m framed on either side by a towering Illyrian. Their presence is soothing, especially when Brannagh’s grin could peel paint. She obviously wants trouble. I’d be a fool to think the bloodshed outside was enough. She’ll need something to sink her fangs into before the night is over to be satisfied with the day. 

“There you are, cousin!” We have the same slate colored eyes and that is where the family resemblance stops. Everything about her is rigid and uniform and for so long being near her had made me feel like a lamb being watched by a lion. Yet, with the males at my back, I don’t feel so small anymore.

“I’m surprised you made it,” she says, eyes raking over Rhysand, then Azriel, then Cassian, sizing each of them up to see which would be an easier meal.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to punch in her teeth. 

“First the Games, now this,” Dagdan says as he abandons an attempt to woo one of the Senators with his bullshit war stories, and joins us. “Maybe we are related after all.”

Rhysand withdraws his mental presence from my head and I draw my mental shields back up to make sure I keep the twins out. 

Brannagh walks a slow circle around us, tongue running over her lower lip. “I really didn’t think you were capable of this.” Her bony fingers reach out to flick the chain looped around their throats. “It’s a little… what’s the word you always throw at us? Barbaric for you?”

“All it took was Mommy Dearest to lose her head for you to grow a spine, huh?” Dagdan sneers.

Azriel’s shadow hisses angrily in my ear as his head jerks up off his chest. The glare he throws over my shoulder could melt a glacier, the heat in it seering across my skin. 

“This one’s pretty,” Brannagh coos at him, her fingers reaching out to brush across his cheek.

“Don’t touch him,” I bite out through my teeth. 

“Careful, we bite,” Cassian snarls.

This only makes Brannagh grin further and my first instinct is to draw all three of them behind my back, as if they were small children in need of protection and not three fully grown warriors. As if I had not seen them kill a Giant and a handful of Wargs in the Arena just yesterday. 

“Were they fun?” Brannagh teases, making another circle so she can draw her nails over Rhysand’s nearly bare chest.

Red tints my vision. 

“They look like they’d be a good fuck.”

I clench my hands into fists to keep my power from erupting and taking out everything in the room. Rhysand can’t save me from this one, not without them sensing his mental presence. And if we are to play this game, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. I might not be the most skilled fighter in this room, but I have plenty of other weapons in my arsenal. 

“How would you know? The only thing you’ve ever fucked is Dagdan.”

She flinches like I’d punched her right in the stomach. It was all rumors of course, but the whispers were there. The twins still insisted on sharing a room; still went everywhere together. They were toxically co-dependant and on more than one occasion they’d mentioned old practices of keeping bloodlines pure. I knew it was a sore spot, I didn’t care very much if it was true. As long as the blow landed; as long as I had something strong enough to cut her, so the bond screaming in my ears didn’t prompt me to cut off the hand still lingering too close to my mate’s skin. They were not hers to touch. 

Cassian chokes out a cough, trying to keep back a laugh as Brannagh’s face twists. 

Dagdan’s teeth flash in a snarl.

I merely grin as I give the chain in my hands a very subtle tug. “I think we’re done catching up, cousin. Do enjoy the rest of the celebration.” I do my best to leave them in the dirt as we head deeper into the palace. I’m sure she’ll find a way to make me pay for the remark later, but for now, I’ll count it as a victory. 

The exchange took place in the open foyer, the roof held up by pillars and the outside world only separated by billowing sheer curtains. I mount the steps that lead us into a secondary foyer, where bubbling fountains and a pool of multicolored fish take up much of the space. Standing guard atop the fountains are twin statues of our gods of war and victory; the golden bowls at their feet overflowing with coins left by worshipers as they come and go from the Palace. We need more than a little luck and victory on our side and I leave a handful of coins on Victory’s altar. I will go to the Temple later and beg the Mother for forgiveness for how blind I have been, and seek a Priestess to make an offering for her blessing in what is quickly becoming an act of outright treason.

I feel Rhysand’s violet gaze on me as I make the offering. 

“The twins really are… like that?” Cassian asks as we round the fountain. It has to be morbid curiosity that prompts the conversation, but the fact that he’s speaking to me at all makes my heart race in my chest. I’ll take whatever scraps he’ll throw my way, if it only means he doesn’t hate me as much as he did yesterday.

“I’d be more surprised if they weren’t than if they were,” I say, unable to suppress a shutter when thinking about it. “They’ve always been… together… and weird about it.”

“Sure, and we’re the animals.”

I can see the back of Amarantha’s blood red head as the inner circle makes its way towards the atrium for food and whatever entertainment could be dragged into this den of vipers for the afternoon. Servants carrying goblets of wine drift through the clusters of visiting dignitaries and soldiers. There’s more than a couple armored gladiators, acting as guards for their sponsors, in attendance. I try to keep track of who belongs to who as we go, in order to give us an edge for the next match. Senators Beron and Tamlin, former lords from Prythians courts, now given new titles within the Empire for merging their kingdoms, both have sponsors shadowing them. The males have to be half Giant, with arms and thighs thick as tree trunks. Their armor has to be custom made to be able to fit them. I don’t know the names of either males, only that they’ve been employed long enough for their conditions in the Arena are they don’t fight Amarantha’s Attor. Too much money has been put into them to let them get torn to ribbons by that beast. 

I slide my way through the throngs of people to get closer. To play this game, there is no doubt that they will have to go back into the Arena a couple times. I need to start finding ways to give them an edge. I can start by seeing up close just how much taller they are then Cassian. If they have to go hand-to-hand in the future, I want to see how they compare next to each other so I can plan to get around it. 

The gladiators have at least two feet on Cassian, which makes me basically an ant in comparison. I already have to tilt my head up to look my mates’ in the eye, these males make me have to keep distance between us to be able to see anything other than they’re stomachs. 

Cassian is fairly nimble, from what I’ve seen so far, as long as the wound on his leg is healed by the next match, he can use that to his advantage. But the thought of having to watch him fight males this size makes my stomach twist. I’m going to need to do more than size up the competition. 

Beron is accompanied, as always, by several of his sons, but it is always Eris by his side. The well dressed male turns a grin in my direction when he catches sight of me. “Highness,” the bow is graceful, fox-like in a way that reminds me of Lucien, wherever he is in the crowd to avoid his Father. It’s not like him to leave Tamlin alone in these situations, they’re usually joined at the hip.

“It does me good to see you outside,” Eris continues, as he reaches out to take my hand and press a chaste kiss on the back of my knuckles.

Azriel’s shadow hisses in agitation in my ear as something hot flickers down the bond.

“It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.” I’ve known the Vanserra’s for a long time, Eris is not quite the flirt Lucien is, but he has no shortage of sway over females, males too for that matter. It had always surprised me that Father hadn’t tried to arrange a union between us. Eris was known, from time to time, to share the same savage brutality the Emperor valued in his court; it should have pleased him to have Eris for a son in law. 

“Are you finally feeling better?”

“It took longer than I expected to recover,” I say honestly. Better to not oversell anything; all lies have a little truth woven in. “But getting some air has been good.”

His russet gaze jumps to the males behind me, and the grin I’ve known for decades turns serpentine. “And profitable, I’d imagine?”

“For the Empire, of course, all earnings will go to aid the far reaches.”

“So I heard,” he nods, still studying them. “You always did have a bleeding heart, Highness. It is good to see it benefit you.”

The compliment feels underhanded, but so do most things around here. 

“When will we get to see them in action again?”

Talking about them like they’re not standing here makes me want to start smashing things, but I reign in my temper. “I was just about to ask you the same about your Father’s gladiators.”

He glances back at the male and shrugs. “Felix is always ready, but we’ve gotten no summons.”

Interesting. The Gamesmaker should already have a match-up in place, even if the Arena will be closed for repairs for a few days still. 

“How unfortunate, it’d be quite the fight for Cassian.”

I feel Cassian shift a little closer, the scent of sandalwood and snow-capped mountains invading my senses. It is an effort not to step back and lean into him, he’s never dared be this close before. 

“It would be quick,” he states.

Eris huffs a laugh. “For your neck to be broken, brute? Yes, we’d be in agreement.”

There’s a snap as Cassian’s wings ruffle and whip closed again, his agitation so clear I can taste it. The frayed edges of our bond simmer, but I can’t tell if the rage is his or my own. We are alike in that aspect.

“Who was summoned, then?” We can’t linger too long here, especially not for information I do not yet need. Rhysand still needs to get a better look around and we’re starting to linger on the stairs, people clustering behind us.

“Not Tamlin’s man either,” Eris says with a shrug. “I’m as in the dark as you.”

“You?” I force a teasing smirk to my features. “I thought you knew everything around here, Eris?”

His russet gaze darkens as his perfect teeth dart out to bite his lower lip. It’s a move I’ve seen thousands of people swoon over. “I’ll happily find out for you, Highness.”

Azriel’s shadow snarls in a language I can’t make out, but it is Rhysand’s side of the bond that ripples with promised violence. Is that jealousy I feel? I try to shove the thought aside; hoping that they feel this thing between us is too much to ask for. I will only hurt myself if I start to hope that I am more than a means to an end.

“Please do. I’d be indebted to you.” That’s all it takes for the Autumn male to bow and disappear into the crowd.

Senator Thessian and his large entourage of guards pushes past us on the stairs, the armored guard slamming into Rhysand from behind hard enough that he stumbles forward, hands reaching out to catch himself on my hips before he can take both of us to the floor. My whole body freezes under the contact, the warm press of his body against mine enough to make all rational thought fly out of my skull.

He leans in, like he might offer an apology, breath ghosting over my neck as his lips brush the shell of my ear. My whole body shivers in anticipation. “Clever, little vixen.”

The low baritone of his voice makes heat rush between my legs, something hot coiling in the pit of my stomach. Now the citrus and jasmine scent of him invades all my senses and I really, truly have no thoughts left in my head. 

My knees wobble as he gives my hip a squeeze, even as the bond roars at the loss of contact as he steps back. Maybe it’s just been awhile since I’ve been intimate with anyone, but that small amount of contact feels like an electric current beneath my skin. It is an effort to keep moving up the stairs and not turn and do something foolish, like press my lips to his and slide my fingers into his hair. 

The atrium is a wide, open room with tables piled with food lining the far walls. On the left are floor to ceiling windows, thrown open to let in the warm summer breeze, a few Praetorians standing at attention amidst the billowing curtains.. There are low couches along the walls, some of which are already taken. If not by anyone with a gladiator, I don’t linger on who sits where. 

A servant with a tray of wine passes and I snag one to try and calm the sizzling beneath my skin. I didn’t realize one of today’s many battles would be trying not to throw myself at my mates. 

There is a raised dais against the far wall, the couches and lounge chairs far more plush and ornate than the rest. Father has found his seat, a slightly less gaudy throne than usual, and reclines as a servant fans him with a palm frond. Amarantha has taken her usual seat on his right, reclining against one of her pleasure slaves. The male wears little but a strip of crimson fabric between his legs, every inch of bare skin lean and smooth. There’s another perched on the armrest of her chair, holding a goblet of wine for whenever she needs it; a third sitting at her feet, running idle fingers up the side of her calf. All that attention, and yet her dark gaze still tracks the males behind me with enough hunger I debate how much trouble I’d be in if I threw my own wine glass at her head.

She is not the only one who pays such close attention to the Illyrians. A couple dignitaries’ wives and high ranking soldiers gawk blatantly at how much skin they have on display. More than one head turns to get a better look at Rhysand’s ass in this get-up.  He neither cowers or preens under the attention; it’s like he doesn’t even register it. I can’t help but wonder if that was the point: Everybody is so busy ogling him, they’re not really paying attention to what he’s doing. It’s a good mask, it shields his intentions and lets him observe without it being obvious, but the way they look at him, like he’s a piece of meat makes me wish I had claws to scratch out their eyes. 

I take another sip of wine, trying not to look too desperate for the emptiness it’ll bring as I head in the direction of the dais. 

“You’ve surprised me,” Father says as we approach. It’s the first real acknowledgement he’s shown me all day.

The shadow curled around my ear burrows a little deeper under my hair to avoid detection, the soft ether brushing against a sensitive spot on my temple that has me gripping the wine glass a little tighter to keep from reacting.

“As I said, I am trying to do better, Father.”

His gaze flicks to the chain in my hand, down the length of it like he’s inspecting the strength of each wrung before finally arriving on the occupants tethered to it. He grins in triumph as he takes in their attire. Maybe they were right to ignore what I’d brought out. It certainly looks like I’ve intended to humiliate them by dressing them in the same attire many of the Senator’s slaves are sporting. 

“Tell me how you managed to bring the three of them to heel when Amarantha couldn’t?” 

Amarantha bristles in her seat, her perfect teeth flashing in her pale face.

Another small victory. 

“Tell him you instructed the healer to give us a sleeping drought in our wine.” The twins haven’t reappeared and his sudden return in my head nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “And faebane in the water this morning.”

I repeat his instructions as I move to take the seat that is mine on his left and force myself not to think about how it’s a couch instead of a chair like his because it used to be shared with my Mother. 

“You’re hoping to acquire mirthroot in the city to keep us docile until the next match.”

I repeat that too, making a mental note to ensure that I follow through with it. He will monitor my every move in the city, if I don’t follow through, he’ll know it and then we’re dead. An issue that seems far less pressing when Rhysand’s hand brushes over my wrist. Watching him in the Arena did nothing to show just how agile he is, not when he expertly maneuvers my hand towards his chest, the chain blocking his part in this. The next thing I know, I’m moving to sit and he’s falling into the couch behind me so it looks like I pushed him down into the seat so I could recline against his chest. The motion takes him seconds, it looks like he rehearsed it down to the exact placement of the chain to hide the fact that he’d been the one moving me and not the other way around. 

Azriel seats himself on the armrest wordlessly; Cassian grunting as he sits on the floor with his back against the couch. I get the distinct impression he is only keeping his shoulder against my knee because being any farther away would mean his wings were in reach of Father’s hands. 

It takes me a minute to find my bearings again as my brain short circuits over how close they all are. Rhysand’s heartbeat is steady against my back, his skin warm even through the fabric of my dress. He lets his head lean back against the back of the couch, feigning exhaustion or maybe repulsion from being “forced” to be this close to me. I’m close enough that I could run my hand up Azriel’s thigh if I wanted, and damn me do I want to. Or close enough to Cassian that my fingers itch to brush through the thick strands of his hair. It is a cruel trick of fate that my mates are close enough for me to touch and I can’t.

At the mention of the mirthroot, one of Amarantha’s males leans around the Emperor to offer a rolled cigarette, even dried the hint of mirthroot is obvious. The male’s eyes are glassy, shining under the effects of it himself, the grin on his features lazy and unbothered. Far too soft a male to be shackled to Amarantha. 

I tap Cassian on the shoulder to prompt him to take it. A mistake because he flinches like I hit him and I think I might have undone any effort I’d made to get him to at least tolerate my presence. He snatches the offered cigarette, and the liter that follows and passes it back to me with a huff.

The Emperor watches the exchange with more interest than he’s ever shown me in my life. “What would you have done, Amarantha?” He asks.

“The same,” she says through her teeth. 

I take a deep breath through my nose to keep from making a disgusted face at her. “Ember said that’s what she used to do for Amarantha’s slaves before she came to my keep, so I simply took a page out of her book.” 

I pass the cigarette and liter to Azriel, and pray the sight of the flames doesn’t cause the same reaction it had when he’d been branded. He grits his teeth, but there is no angered flash down the bond or hiss from the shadow to indicate it’s anything other than a show as he lights it and takes a long drag. 

“I’m glad to see that in your seclusion you’ve finally grown half a brain,” Father says. “I was beginning to worry that your Mother’s poisoned tongue had gotten to you.”

I flinch despite myself and all three of the males tense around me. Cassian’s jaw ticks, the flutter of movement brushing across my knee. For the first time all day, his hazel gaze flicks to me, and  maybe it’s a trick of the light, but I swear I see a flash of pity there.

“No, it didn’t,” I whisper, unable to put any feeling into the words. I haven’t been back here since the execution. I’d found every reason to avoid it. Being back feels like peeling a scab off the wound and letting it bleed all over the floor.

Azriel takes another drag and I wish more than anything to take a hit of it myself and numb this feeling in my chest. What I would give for the empty numbness that had filled me in the early months of my grief. There are so many tangled emotions here, between the loss and my mates and the horrors of what we just witnessed outside. I cannot pick just one to focus on; can’t find some outlet to expel the building pressure. It all tangles and lodges itself in my throat like it's trying to drown me.

Rhysand’s fingers brush over my arm as he draws his hand up to take the cigarette from Azriel. To an onlooker it looks accidental, maybe it is, maybe I’m just reading into it, but even that faint brush drags me back to the surface for a bit of air again. At least I am not alone in the water anymore. Mother had always been emotionless, nothing got to her. I was always the one that felt too much. At least now the emotions can be shared.

“Your actions yesterday inspired me,” the Emperor says after a beat. 

Apprehension licks its way up my spine.

“I haven’t taken a champion of my own in a long time. It’s become dull, betting on someone else’s man.”

Shit!

Azriel’s shadow dares to peek out around my bangs, observing the crowd as they begin to settle in their seats with plates of food, as if on some silent command. Brannagh and Dagdan join us on my left, on the seat closest to the dais, the stare they level at me hot enough to melt glass. So much for Rhysand being in my head the rest of the evening. 

With a wave, the Emperor motions over a creature I have no name for. It walks on two legs like a man, but is covered head to toe in thick, brown, fur. Horns curl from the top of its head; a beak with a hooked tip jutting from its face. Its hands end in talons like that of a bird, but there are five on each hand instead of three. Its tunic has been folded down around its waist, leaving its chest bare, revealing a spider web of scars gouged through the heavy layer of fur. A thin, whip-like tail ending in a spiked tip flicks back and forth behind it as it walks, each step sending a shutter through the Palace. 

My skin pricks with goosebumps. Some strange sort of alchemy made this thing.

“I was hoping to test it in the Arena, but with the repairs in order, I thought a smaller show would do just as well.”

My stomach hurdles into my throat.

“Why don’t we pick one of your champions to break it in, daughter?” The Emperor suggests as if this is a thought that just came to him and not something he’s been planning from the beginning. 

I take another sip of wine as I turn to look at him, trying to steady the rapid pounding of my heart. I can’t let one of them fight this thing! Its maw opens and snaps shut with a clack as it stands before us, growing impatient.

“I’d personally like to see Cassian’s thick skull get crushed like a watermelon,” Amarantha chimes in from her seat.

I’m really going to throw up right here in front of all these people.

“A splendid idea from our woman of the hour, don’t you think?” He grins like he’s caught me, like he knows I’ve been playing games and have walked right into his trap.

“Nothing can be as bad as listening to you speak, Amarantha,” Cassian snarls as he gets on his feet, effectively making the decision for me.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, wings ruffling behind him, but before he can step into the center of the room, he turns to face me, much to my surprise. Hands scarred from swordplay reach out to give the chain around his neck a little tug. “Mind letting me off the leash, Princess?”

One of the Praetorian steps forward to unchain him but I stand and snag the key from his hand instead. I’ve seen enough males get stabbed or injected with something right before a fight to give the opponent an upper hand to know I can’t trust anyone near him. And, maybe, just maybe, the act of giving him a little relief from the chain might make him not hate me so much.

My hands shake as I reach up to his neck to unclasp the chain. I know better than to take the whole collar off while there are so many people watching even if I wish I could. His breath is warm on my face as he watches me, waiting for his moment of freedom. The urge to stretch up on my toes and kiss him for luck is overwhelming; maybe in another life we could have. 

I step back with the chain in my hand and return to my seat before I can follow my impulses. 

Cassian turns to face his opponent and even though I saw him perform yesterday, I can’t shake the sinking feeling that I have just sent him to his death. The creature sizes him up like it's calculating the best spot to take a bite out of him and its beady eyes settle on the bandage tied around his bare thigh.

Rhysand leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder to watch, arm loosely looped over my waist. It looks casual. No one bats an eye at the gesture, but I am pretty sure he’s done it so he can keep me from jumping off the couch.

Azriel leans forward, bracing himself with his knees on his elbows, hazel gaze tracking the steps of Cassian’s opponent as he also calculates its weak spots. 

“Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” The Emperor asks, leaning over to be heard over the rush of excitement the audience gives to the challengers.

I tear my gaze away from where I’m trying to memorize every line in Cassian’s wings, every curve of tattoo over his back and shoulders, just in case. “How so?”

“Cassian wins and I’ll let you pick their next opponent in the arena,” he suggests. 

I like the offer; it gives them a better chance at surviving. 

“Cassian loses, and you give Rhysand to Amarantha.”

The world flips and spins and the roaring in my ears has me clutching my hands in my skirts to keep a surge of power from destroying the room. My power singes the fabric, only the smoke from the mirthroot hides the smell. 

There is no way in Hel I am making that kind of bet!

Rhysand stiffens behind me, heartbeat skipping for half a moment before he pretends to be unbothered by the comment and takes another drag of the mirthroot. 

I’d rather throw myself on a blade than chance that. Cassian is an exceptional fighter, but I cannot take that risk. I am already risking his life by letting him fight like this, how can I risk both of them?

My chest aches. There are too many opportunities to lose them. Too many things that can go wrong. 

“And let our people think I am weak and incapable of following through on the deal we made yesterday?” I challenge. My voice trembles as I fight to hold his gaze steady. 

Azriel’s shadow hisses what sounds like a warning in my ear.

“You know if we split them up now it makes me look as if I can’t handle them.”

“Attached, are we?”

“No, but I am tired of looking weak,” I hiss. “If Amarantha wants them, she can challenge me for them herself.”

Rhysand stiffens behind me. The twins are too close for him to slip into my mind again, but I can practically feel him shouting at me down the bond.

She huffs a laugh around the other side of him, “As if you’d stand a chance in that!”

I ignore her as I hold my ground with my Father, “You have always thought so little of me.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“So if you really want to make this interesting, then fine. If Cassian wins, I pick when and who all their matches are with. And if he loses, well, you’ve already chosen a husband for me I’m sure, so you can speed up the process and I’ll provide them the heir you so desperately want by the end of the year.”

The bond shakes so hard in my chest it feels like Azriel’s screaming in my ear. Rhysand has gone still as death behind me and I didn’t think I said it that loud, but Cassian’s head whips in our direction, eyes wide.

Father throws his head back and laughs at that. “This new found confidence is amusing. I will allow you to pick the next two fights, but not all.”

Better than nothing.

“Deal.”

I think I can hear Azriel’s teeth grinding together beside me, so I force myself not to look at him. The bond thrums like he’s in physical pain and I hate that I have caused it, but I will not barter with their lives.

“To first blood!” The Emperor calls to the room.

“To the death!” Brannagh chants instead. 

When this whole Empire goes up in flames, I’m pushing her in first.

The crowd begins to murmur to themselves, debating. “I’ll put some money on it if they fight to the death,” Tamlin tosses out. 

“As will I!” Shouts a commander whose name I’d never learned.

The motion goes around the room in a full circle, by the time the Emperor concedes, I’ve drank my full glass and abandoned it on the couch. Didn’t we just do this?

The Praetorians provide blades for the two males, but the Emperor’s creature can’t hold the blade with its claw tipped hands and tosses it to the ground with a screech. Its barbed tip tail draws back behind it as it drops into a defensive stance. 

I forget how to breathe as Cassian drops into his own.

Time slows in a familiar sensation of undiluted horror as the creature moves first, striking forward with its tail like a spear. Cassian pivots back a step, rearranging his feet as he blocks with the sword.

The crowd cheers excitedly and I distantly recognize coins changing hands as they take bets, but cannot tear my eyes away enough to watch who is participating in it. Cassian remains on the defensive as the creature rears its tail back and attacks from the other side of its body this time, testing the Illyrian’s reaction time. When the strike is blocked a second time, it switches tactics and goes for a punch, talons extended towards Cassian’s face.

While the creature is taller, it is not as agile, and Cassian side steps out of the way of the blow, using the momentum to lunge into the next step and strike the tip of his sword across his opponent’s stomach. Its ear shattering screech shakes the room as the blade makes contact, drawing black blood. If it wasn’t for Brannagh, the challenge would be over, Cassian would have won. It would have been easy for once.

Enraged, the creature strikes with its talons again, missing a second time, but catching Cassian in the jaw on the backswing. The whole room can hear Cassian’s teeth clack together as he stumbles backwards.

It takes everything in me not to squeeze my eyes shut, not to wince and react to every blow. I have to keep telling myself that this is part of the game and I cannot give them away, but by the Mother it is harder and harder with every passing second!

Rhysand remains with his chin propped up on my shoulder, the bulk of his weight keeping me in my seat. I so desperately want to reach out and take his hand, give myself something to ground in, but I can’t. I have to accept that this might be all we’re ever allowed to touch, especially after today.

The creature strikes again with its tail, once, twice, a third, each like a punch. The third blow shatters Cassian’s sword into pieces and my heart plummets into my stomach as he dodges a fourth assault. He’s not so fast on the fifth and that barbed tip punches right through his bandaged thigh! Blood splatters as the tips hurdles through muscle and sinew until it pushes through the back of his leg.

One of the dignitaries' wives reaches for a bucket and wretches as Cassian’s roar of pain rattles my teeth. 

Azriel flinches, looking like he might just jump into the fight and stop it, but then catches himself. 

The bond screams and bashes against my insides as my powers flare again, singing more of my skirts as I hold them in a death grip that only worsens as the creature yanks the barb back out of Cassian’s leg, bringing him to the floor. Blood pours from the wound from both ends, cascading down his calf to make a puddle on the stark white tile.

There’s enough of my skirts to hide the motion, Rhysand buries his hand beneath them to hold onto my hip tight enough to bruise. I don’t know if that’s to keep me in place or himself. 

The creature snarls out a noise that sounds like triumph as it pulls its hand back, aiming to use its claws to sever Cassian’s head.

Not again! Not again! Not again!

I have to stop this! I have to do something!

At the last second, Cassian throws himself out of the way, knees tucked to his chest as he rolls out of reach, right to where the creature’s discarded sword lies. He snags the blade with a grunt, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his thigh as he pushes himself back onto his feet. His face twists in pain at the slightest movement, but he manages to stay upright. 

Rhysand breathes a little easier behind me, but his grip on my hip hasn’t let up.

The Emperor frowns beside us, displeased with the outcome thus far no doubt. He really expected this to be easy. 

The creature strikes again, sticking to what it has found successful, and it becomes a mistake. Cassian twists at the last second, blade raised so when the strike comes, he doesn’t need to block it. At this angle, not only does it miss him, he has a height advantage and he brings the sword down as hard as he can, cleaving the tail in half. The barbed tip hits the floor twitching as the creature reels backward and wails.

Holy shit! I’ve seen a lot of warriors in my life, but I don’t think I’d ever describe them as beautiful until now. Each move is calculated, backed with training and muscle. His tattoos seem to come to life with his body as his muscles shift and strike. 

He doesn’t let up as his opponent stumbles back either, he uses the distraction to his advantage and plunges the sword into the creature’s shoulder. He might have been aiming for the heart, but the wound in his leg gives him too great a limp to lunge far on. The blade catches in bone, the resounding crunch deafening in the domed ceiling, and when he reels back to pull it out, he twists it just enough to make his opponent’s arm absolutely useless.

With two of its preferred methods of fighting gone, the creature bends at the waist and charges with a roar, hoping to use its horns like a battering ram into Cassian’s chest.

An otherwise horrifying sight, if Cassian didn’t laugh and step dramatically out of the way so the creature rams right into the wall. “Is that really all you’ve got?” He taunts as a rain of dust falls on his head. 

The creature screeches as it yanks itself free from the wall and shakes its head, clearing the debris from its beady eyes. 

Cassian spins the blade in his hand, adjusting his grip, and I think it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

He can’t crouch with his leg, but he doesn’t need to. The creature tries to ram him again and he dodges and brings his hilt down on its neck, knocking it to the floor. He wastes no time in rearing back with the blade and bringing it down, easily cleaving the creature’s head from its shoulders. 

Amarantha throws up her hands in a huff at the sight.

I finally take what feels like my first breath in an hour as Cassian tosses the blade on the floor. He did it! He won!

Azriel removes his elbows from his knees and reclines back against the armrest, clearly satisfied with the outcome. 

“Excellent! Excellent!” Praises the steward as he goes about helping anyone who placed bets collect their proper earnings. 

I tear my gaze away from the carnage to the nearest guard, “Find him a healer, now.” Before he bleeds out on the floor or Father decides he has another champion he wants to test. 

The Emperor takes a long drink from his goblet, eyes narrowed on the severed head the staff has to now clean off the floor. Around him, his dignitaries drink and argue over why they bet the way they did. It is business as usual, completely unbothered by the blood around them. 

When he finally turns to me, I have to brace myself against the anger simmering in his eyes. This is usually the part where I put my chin to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible. Usually. But not today. 

“It seems I’ve underestimated their talent for bloodshed.”

Cassian hobbles back over to us and I make a show of telling Azriel to help him before he gets blood everywhere, so no one thinks I just let them wander off on their own. 

“The Games will continue at the start of next week,” the Emperor continues.

That gives us days. I try not to look at the gaping hole in Cassian’s thigh. Thank the Mother it looks like it missed bone, but how is he supposed to participate with that? There’s no way it heals in time, even if I have Ember work twelve hours a day on him.

“I expect you to have their opponent picked out by the Senate meeting in the morning. You still have that end of your bargain to uphold.”

This victory will not be without repercussions, but it is still a victory nonetheless, and we have to take what we can get.

--

Managing to procure the mirthroot I need to trick my Father into thinking I’m following through with the regime I’d given him, as well as finding horses for the Illyrians to ride back on takes longer than usual, given the massive partying happening in the streets. We have to take the backroads home to avoid being pelted with more rocks, or outright mobbed. Compared to the rest of the day, the journey is uneventful, spent mostly with the others ensuring Cassian doesn’t pass out on the horse. 

The sun is already changing colors by the time we return to the River House, but I know if I try to prepare for bed now I’ll never sleep. Instead, I leave Anise with instructions to look into potentially safe opponents in the Arena, so when I see Eris again tomorrow I can compare their notes, and then set out for the Temple built on the edge of the property. 

I doubt there are enough blood offerings and animal sacrifices to cleanse the sins of this Empire, but I offer as many as I can in apology for my part in it. I don’t know how I’ve been so blind to all of it. I can’t stop seeing it now, it should have always been so obvious to me.

The Priestesses do not ask why I linger for over an hour, praying long past the time it takes for my offerings to burn atop the altar. I’d hoped that, if I said them hard enough, the weight of the day would slip off my shoulders. I’d thought, with enough sacrifices, the guilt would ease, but I can still feel my mates’ agitation and pain clearly through the bond. 

I return to the House as weary as before. Tomorrow will be a whole new set of problems. I cannot put it off by lingering in the Temple. 

The walk doesn’t clear my head, or loosen the tension, and I climb into the tub with that same heaviness still clinging to my skin. I heat the water as hot as I can, hoping it might cleanse me in a way my sacrifices couldn’t.

Exhaustion creeps its way in as I scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is pink. Every time I close my eyes I can see the crucified bodies, gasping for air as they slowly suffocate under the weight of their own body pinned to the wood. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sight; I can only imagine how it would feel to know each of those males before this. The bond still swirls beneath my skin, heavy with agitation the hot water can’t touch. 

I wish there was a way to take that from them, but how can I do that without calling attention to the mating bond? 

I give myself a few extra minutes in the blissful heat before dragging myself out and tossing a silk robe over my waterlogged skin. My brush is on the vanity where Anise left it this morning and I have just started to brush the knots out of my hair when I hear the bedroom door open. My hand stills halfway through my hair; it is unlike Anise to not announce herself when it’s this late. 

The door clicks shut again, the eerie silence that follows enough to make my heart drop into my stomach. The darkness of the room makes it hard to see beyond the candlelight that fills the bathing chamber and my hand goes instinctively into the vanity drawer, where my Mother had always kept an extra knife. The blade is cool in my fingers, the handle smooth and undamaged from never being used. The benefit of having constant guards is you usually never see the threats against you, though there are always exceptions.

There’s no footsteps on the carpet, but I can practically feel movement next to my bed. 

I’m a sitting duck here among all the candlelight, but if I step into the darkness beyond I’ll be totally blind. Better to wait for something to make itself known. 

I suppose there’s enough guards around, I can always start screaming for help if it comes down to it.

A heartbeat passes before something dark and snakelike comes slithering across the floor. The ether loops itself around my ankle and crawls up my thigh like a purring cat before the shadow takes its perch behind my ear.

I set the knife on the vanity with a sigh of relief as Azriel steps into the light. “You scared the shit out of me!”

His shadow caresses the back of my ear in apology, far more expressive now than it was earlier. “Sorry.”

He side steps out of the doorway, but not in my direction, which is odd until Rhysand steps out of the shadows behind him.

“How did you two get in here?”

“Found the lever on the door to your secret tunnel,” Azriel says as his eyes trace up my bare legs, brazenly taking in all the damp skin I have on display.

Heat flushes up my cheeks and I have to look away from him. The candlelight and the hour of the evening makes this feel more intimate than it should, given the way Rhysand looks like he might burst out of his skin. I certainly shouldn’t be entertaining the idea that Azriel would look at me as anything other than a means to an end. Hope is too dangerous a thing to have right now. Just because we agreed to do this, doesn’t mean they’re anxious to accept me as anything other than help. Besides, I need to remind myself that it will be even more dangerous for us than it already is if we were to acknowledge the bond.

 “We were careful, no one saw us,” Azriel assures.

I should be relieved that they’re being safe about it, but the frown on Rhysand’s face makes me rethink it.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?!” He snarls.

Normally, that kind of outburst from a male would make me jump back in surprise, but at this point I’m too exhausted to move, let alone figure out what the hell he’s referring to. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts today, Rhysand, you will have to be more specific.”

The chain rattles around his neck as he steps further into the room, like it's fighting to hold back his powers. “Your bet with Hybern!”

Ah, right. That. “What of it?” Is he really still upset about that? Cassian won, nothing was lost.

Azriel winces and the shadow at my ear hisses in warning. 

“What of it?” He repeats, his voice rising to an octave just shy of shrill, like he can’t believe he heard me right. “You can’t just offer yourself up like that!”

“And what was my alternative?”

“He gave you an alternative!” He seethes. “All you had to do was say yes!”

I fold my arms over my chest in irritation, but I don’t miss the way both their eyes dip to my chest at the motion. “Oh so it’s ok for you to put your body on the line, but I can’t do the same with my own? Seems a little hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

He’s inched his way into my space step by step, until I’m very aware of the jasmine and citrus scent of him. Sometime after he returned home he’d changed into the clothes I’d had laid out for him, the swirl of ink along his chest just barely poking out around the dark collar. Even hidden, the urge to reach out with my hands and trace the swirls with my fingers remains. 

“Because,” he says through his teeth. “It’s not a deal I can live with.”

“You don’t have to live with it because Cassian won anyway,” I retort, tearing my gaze away to look at Azriel. Rhysand is too close to me like this. I can barely think past the urge to touch him, let alone hold the argument like I need to. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

Azriel folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “He’s not. You shouldn’t have made that deal.”

I throw my hands up and push past Rhysand, trying to give myself room to breathe. “You two are impossible!”

They follow like I’m still holding onto their leashes, footsteps somehow impossibly silent despite their size.  

“You’re honestly going to stand there and tell me you’d rather I offered you up to Amarantha?”

“If it meant you were safe,” Rhysand snarls. “Yes.”

I find myself gritting my teeth, a snarl working its way up my throat. “Well that’s not a deal I could live with, Rhysand.” 

Their legs are a hell of a lot longer than mine, Rhysand manages to snag my arm and turn me back around to face him before I make it more than three steps into the darkness of my chambers. 

His face looks strained, eyes rimmed red. He has to be exhausted. The bond feels fragile, strained from all the emotions that have been blared down it today. “I need you to find a way to deal with it,” he says, voice verging on pleading. 

I hate myself, but I can’t help but wonder what the hand holding onto my bicep would feel like travelling down the rest of my body. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, whatever you have to do, I… We need you to find a way to live with it.”

Azriel comes to stand on the other side of him, so they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder. “If Cass had lost and you had to…” even in the dim light coming from the bathroom I can see the heaviness in his eyes. 

I glance back and forth between them. “You’ve all suffered enough, I can handle myself. I knew what I was doing.”

Rhysand shakes his head, “I can bear a lot of things, but not that.”

Hope is a cruel bastard, and I’ve never learned to master it. “Why? What does it matter to you?”

He lifts the hand not holding onto my arm, fingers just barely brushing over my damp cheek and my heartbeat is suddenly very loud in my own ears. His mouth opens like he might say something, and then he clamps it shut again, debating with himself over the words.

While he can’t seem to find the words, Azriel’s scarred hand reaches out to gently grab my chin and tilt my face in his direction. “It matters,” he huffs, voice low and rich and the reverberations of it send shivers down my spine. “Because you’re our mate.”

------

Author's Note: Hehe was gonna wait for the reveal at the end but couldn't bring myself to do it. Let me know what you thought about it! And as always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

@sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe, @raisam

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@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissfromnovalie

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@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444,

[eclipseberrycake]

Satisfied (Onesided! Ginger x Reader x Cosmo)

AN: If y'all know Hamilton, y'all know. Now I know, I have requests and the next part of MBC promised (which is almost done and I'm so excited to show you guys), but I was struck with a thought in my headache riddled brain which was scattered all sorts. And it's my Blog so. >:D sucks to be y'all. /lh Also sorry for being gone for son long, I re-dislocated by knee and that was no bueno </3

This is the MBC! Reader, but I don't really emphasis on Sprout and Astro in this, so I just put it as Cosmo.

Lil bit of a songfic, but it's mostly just inspired by it.

Warnings: One-sided/unreciprocated affections, Ginger gets sad. Maybe her mains shouldn't pmo next time.

☁ Being a holiday toon had both it's pros and cons.

☁ On one hand, she loves seeing all the children and their excited little faces as they scamper about, smiles brightened by the cheer of the season. There's always a semi-permanent smell of cinnamon and pine in the air, lingering and almost tangible on the tongue.

☁ She gets to spend her days baking and enjoying life with the other toons, talking to them about their holiday wishes and going on runs with them. Those were her favorite moments, by far, were seeing all the other toons in action, playing a part that was so well rehearsed to them it was practically muscle memory.

☁ And, she got to see you. You were a distractor, a damn good one at that, and she found herself drawing towards you more and more.

☁The first time she met you was pre-outbreak. Her and the other holiday toons were just created for Gardenview's first holiday season, and some of the other commons were tasked with getting them acquainted. While originally she suspected she would be paired with Cosmo, as she was his cousin, she was pleasantly surprised when you popped up.

☁ You gave her a cheerful little wave as your entire body seemed to bounce with joy, never staying still as you introduced yourself. You offered a hand for her to shake, she remembers, your hold firm and confident. She remembers thinking in that very moment how your iris' reflected the light like stained glass. You were still talking, she remembers, but not about what. Just the sound of your voice.

☁ You spoke with vigor. Bold and bright, intelligent about whatever you were going on about. She liked that. She wasn't very bold herself, admittedly, it was a family trait, so to see you so exuberant made her chest burn.

☁ You were almost like a phoenix. One of those fire birds the children would tell her about. They were in stories and were known for their bright flames. There were more to them, but she couldn't quite recall, all she knew was that, like a phoenix, you burned like a star, calling her attention as if she were a moth.

☁ You led her around the kitchen areas, where she was able to spot Cosmo, waving at him. While he did acknowledge her with a bright grin and tight hug, she knew his eyes were focused somewhere else.

☁ She tried not to think about it, but ultimately it was all she could focus on. You welcomed your own warm greeting with Cosmo, making his cheeks dust a rosy orange as he wrapped his arms around you, his tail wagging in a blur behind him as he nuzzled into your neck.

☁ He looked at you like you were not only a star, but the moon, sun and planets all in one. Like you were a sight far beyond his own comprehension that he was merely lucky enough to see.

☁ Like he was simply a man in love, seeing the very object of his adoration.

☁ The thought stung in her chest. Cosmo, oh sweet Cosmo, was such a lover at heart. She knew this. He would give and give until he couldn't any longer, then would try to give more. She knew, if she had made her adorations of you known, he would've backed off. He would've encouraged her to get to know you. He would've done everything in his power to help her shine bright enough to match you.

☁ But she couldn't do that to him. Not when he looked so smitten, so...in love.

☁ That would be cruel.

☁ Though she supposed it was as equally cruel to force herself to admire you from a distance, watch as your flame burned with you, yearning just to feel the heat. She just wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand and twirl away to Christmas songs like Tisha did. Or to feel your hands wrap around her waist to boost her to the higher branches like you did with Scraps. Or even just for you to sit beside her with a cup of hot chocolate and cookies like you did with Goob.

☁ She wanted all those things and more. She wanted to know what your early morning voice sounded like, still heavy with sleep as you fought off the pull of your exhaustion once more. She wanted to know what it was like to feel you crawl into bed and collapse under the covers, whining for cuddles because you've had such a long day. She wanted to wake up and see the rays of sun cross your face as you continue to snooze, unaware and unrushed by the events of the day.

☁ She wanted. It burned in her chest so tightly it hurt, brushing against her ribs and pulling every time she caught a glimpse of your smile. The sound of your laughter made her stomach churn, knowing it wasn't because of her. Even the way you walked had her captivated, from the way your feet hit the ground, turning as you adjusted to upkeep conversation, seamlessly moving like a dancer.

☁ Just once she wanted you to dance around her, smiling like she was the same sun in your sky that you were in hers. Laughing at her jokes and spilling compliments unto her, holding her hand and kissing her cheek.

☁ Just the thought of it makes her cheeks burn before she's shaking the thought away.

☁ The shake of her head knocks whatever flashback she was reminiscing about loose, and she's back in med-bay, shoulders hunched as she fiddles with her blanket.

☁ It was a hard night, she remembers, a constant switch between throwing up whatever she could and clutching at her aching head. Cosmo was there, supporting her wherever she could, but to her surprise, you were there too. You were constantly moving from the med-bay, to wherever, returning to pass Cosmo something before dashing off again.

☁ It's a soft comfort, knowing you're there, and you're okay. She feared what had happened to you during the outbreak, but was caught where she was and left with the consequences.

☁ Cosmo had told her that you were the one to rescue her, briefly explaining the entire situation. You had risked your own life to save her own, and her chest ached at the thought.

☁ To see you once more was a dream come true, but to know you had done that all for her was....exhilarating.

☁ Cosmo was mid-explanation of her injuries when you made a return for longer than a second, looking exhausted, but still upright. You perked up when you noticed her gaze on you, giving a happy little wave. "Ginger! Good to see you awake! I hope the nurse hasn't been giving you a hard time." You joke, circling around behind Cosmo even as he shoots you a look.

☁ "Bite me." The cake rolls huffs, making you snicker as you angle your head to flutter your lashes at him. "I already diiiid." You laugh even as he swats at you.

☁ Ginger giggles at your antics, loving the mischievous smirk on your features even if Cosmo looks less then impressed by your antics. You settle quickly, diverting your attention to her with a far softer smile on your features. "How are you feeling?"

☁ "Okay." She responds, already feeling that familiar flutter return to her chest. You nod at this, perching yourself at the end of her bed as one of your hands gently sets itself on her leg. The very action makes her nervous system shudder, cheeks turning a softs pink as she pulls her hair over her shoulder to play with it.

☁ "I'm glad." You breathe out and the very noise you makes as you lean back, running a hand over your forehead and down the back of your head. The relief makes your shoulders sag, the evident (In hindsight) ease in tension relaxing the muscles in your face. You look older like this, more experienced, even if your youth peaks through in hints she knows to look for.

☁ It's in the same shine of your eyes, even as they haze a bit, unfocused but sharp nonetheless. Trained to pinpoint the slightest bits of movement, yet eased enough now they only look at Cosmo. She can watch in real time as the color of your eyes fills itself with something new. It's hearty and bright, nearly making your eyes gleam like an angel's. She knows what it is, and what hurts more is that there's something else there. There's a comfort there that's unique to you and him. Something that's always been there, and she's either remained ignorant or blissfully unaware of how to notice it.

☁ She can see it all now though. Much more clearly than she ever has before.

☁ It's comfort in the love you've found with Cosmo. It's the nervous butterflies of crushes and fresh romance that have settled and instead evolved into a home of reliability and adoration. It's the swell of your heart at the very sound of his name and the sight of him in any capacity, easing off the immediate jittery reaction into a softer, welcoming one that she's sure eases you more than anything else. It's the evolution of shy touches and evading eyes once they've been caught looking into lingering glances with cheeky quips and hands finding purchase in places they've traced a thousand times.

☁ There's other places she can see how young you look, especially in this light. It's in the way your fur falls, untamed and wild, windblown from the running, jumping and dodging you've done as a distractor. It's in your hands that carry a mass of scars. but no wrinkles. That are rough and calloused, but not worn and rigid. It's in your posture that slumps with fatigue and the weight of your responsibilities, not years of experience.

☁ Swallowing, she allows herself the one bit of comfort as she reaches and grabs your hand. It's not warm like she imagined, rather cool and clammy. You must clench your fists when you run and it must've cooled your palm since then.

☁ She gently drags the pads of her fingers along the lines of your palm before gently clasping your hand in her two. "Thank you. For what you've done."

☁ You blink at this and the tension returns, making her inwardly frown. But all you do is smile, that same, gentle and understanding twitch of your lips even as you avoiding look at her. No, you're looking at Cosmo.

☁ "No one really thanks me." You start, looking down at your lap for a second before returning to look at Cosmo. His own eyes are filled with the same look yours are and one of his hands find itself on your thigh. His knuckles flex as he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if urging you to continue. "So, thank you. But I truly don't think I'm worthy of it." Your lips upturn into a mischievous little thing. "Not if Sprout has anything to say about it."

☁ Cosmo scoffs. "With the amount of stress you bring to his life, I don't blame him." Her cousin shakes his head. "But. Ginger's right. You do deserve to be thanked."

☁ You don't look like you believe them, but let the subject drop with a optimistic little huff. "Well, if distracting is what it takes to meet some of the best people in my life," You pause and Ginger's heart practically shatters as your eyes immediately turn to Cosmo. He's already watching you and look that feels too intimate for her to witness laces his features. "It would have been worth it."

☁ The remnants of her chest collect into a dusted fragment that holds some sort of semblance to what it was before only to absolutely shutter and collapse once more as you shake off and stand, clapping your hands. She misses the feel of your touch and the warmth you provided simply by being there. It's momentarily made worse by the fact that you turn so Cosmo is in your immediate vicinity first, rather than turn to her first, even if you end up facing them both.

☁ "I have to get going. Sprout caught me on my last little run to get supplies and made me promise to get something to eat or else he would, and I quote, 'drag my sorry ass to the kitchen'." You shrug at this, even if Ginger has to hide a giggle behind a hand. Cosmo waves you off with a roll of his eyes. "Sure, sure, blame it on the warden. Maybe your just sick of my company."

☁ You fake an affronted gasp, holding a hand to your chest even as your lips tilt into a smirk far too charming to mean you took any real offense. "Me? Tire of you? Puh-lease." You lean down, gently cupping Cosmo's cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

☁ The simple action softens her cousin by a rather drastic degree, making his shoulders fall and his tail wag. She has to look away from the act for just a second, looking back before either of you can notice.

☁ You separate with a wave and promises of seeing Cosmo during bedtime, giving a final well wishes to Ginger before leaving. You were out of sight before long and Ginger swallowed the suddenly thick lump in her throat.

☁ Looking over, she watched Cosmo, who was looking at where you left with the same lovesick grin he used to wear pre-outbreak. It was just as dazed and awestruck as it was then, even if it's tampered by the familiarity of knowing you and your isms' and your little habits. She's sure Cosmo has become more than well-acquainted with you and who you are, your character and your person. She's sure he's even been witness to your very spirit and soul in the early cracks of down, bearing witness to your freshly awoken mind as you lace nothing but sweet nothings about and to him within the early air between you two.

☁ "You look happy." She says, despite herself. It seems to stun her cousin as he blinks before turning to her, all rosy cheeks and wagging tail as he holds the palm of his hand to his cheek, probably feeling the heat there.

☁ "I am." He breathes out. "They- All of them just..." He seemingly can't find the words, kicking his feet just a bit. "They make me want to be a better person. I just- I can't explain it."

☁ She could. She could explain all too well how she wants nothing more than to be the person you think of her as. To improve herself so that she may one day hold even a candle to the image you have of her and hopefully repay all the kindness you have ever shown. To be the person she wishes to be if only to ease your own burdens and the responsibilities you've placed on your own shoulders, just to see the beam of your smile once more.

☁ She wonders how things may have changed if she had been selfish, just once. How it could've been her, holding your hand and sharing a bed with you. How it could've been her that you look at like no one else is in the room. It could've been her that shares inside jokes and small little bouts of laughter with you. It should've been her.

☁ A flicker of a thought passes that it still could be her, but as she looks at Cosmo, it immediately wilts. She could never take that away from him, not even in a fantastical thought that blisters and pops the seconds its prodded.

☁ "You don't need too, it's written all over your face." She gently teases, and he rolls his eyes. He swats at her prodding hand, scoffing just a bit.

☁ "Oh stuff it." He scoffs, sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna go get you something to eat. You want a book or anything while I'm gone?" He looks back and she shakes her head.

☁ He takes this for what it is before leaving, shutting the door behind him and leaving her to her thoughts. Before she can stop them, they wander straight back to you, despite every effort she tries to make to remind herself that your not hers to think about. She buries her head in her knees and clenches her fist, if only to numb herself from the reminder of feeling your touch against her hand.

☁ On the other side of the door, Cosmo stares at the plain white of it before retracting his hand with a sigh. He'd recognized the look on Ginger's face, having seen it a few too many times on Goob's, and his chest aches at the thought of putting his own cousin through the heartbreak of rejection. Yet, he can't bring himself to mend this injury. Not at the expense of himself. He'd spent too much of himself on others too constantly. You were his one reprieve from a lifetime of consistent giving. He wasn't sure what else he could give.

☁ If there was one thing he would never dream of even thinking of giving up was his chance with you. He had worked too hard and given up too much of himself, his well-being, even his own sanity in the face of those twisteds. You and him and Sprout and Astro had worked too hard for far too long for anything to break that up.

☁ So while he wishes for his cousin to continue healing and her utmost happiness, he doesn't wish for it enough to give up you.

[nownahc]

i absolutely love the prompt idea! i might not make it easy on you~ prompts 1, 3, and 83 with hyunjin sound like they could be interesting <3

just once | hwang hyujin

hyunjin x reader

main masterlist

prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı.

notes. been in my feels lately so this might be a reflection of what's going on in my mind

warnings. angst, talk of serious emotionnal stuff

prompts. “Do you want me to leave?”/“I’m not jealous.”/“Just once.”

Never in his life, Hyunjin would have thought he’d witness such despair in someone. Let alone, when that person happens to be you. He can’t seem to find the words, nor the strength to move as he sits in front of you, watching helplessly as you sob in the sleeves of your sweater. Your bedroom, so familiar, yet foreign now that your laughter doesn’t echo between the walls, feels cold, devoided of any of the warmth he’s accustomed to. “I just… I don’t get it, everyone around me seems so in tune with everything, with their life, their family, their friends, their… love life, while I’m stuck here, watching me, as if I’m outside of my body, like a spectator of my own life, I…” It’s the first words you uttered since he arrived here. All you’ve been doing is sob and cry silently in the fabric of your sweater. When you called, he had no idea what caused you to feel this down, was it someone, or something, he had no clue. All he knew, is that he had to sprint to you, the sole idea of leaving you alone in such a vulnerable state eating at his consciousness.

“I’m not jealous, it’s envy more than anything, admiration even and,” she can’t help but hiccup letting her words hang in the air, until she can speak her mind again, “I want to be like them, to know what I’m doing, to be happy, truly happy, to love and be loved.”

He wants to scream at her that no one has anything figured out, that everyone is pretending, and everyone has probably cried and begged like she’s doing right now. He wants to scream that, he can give her at least one of those things she’s asking for. Love. He can love her, and let her love him. That’s all he ever wanted, all he ever wished for.

“Do you want me to leave, or do you want comfort?”, his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as if he was scared of his own words.

Finally, her gaze flickers to him, a small sad smile tugging at her lips. “Stay…”, she wants to add that there’s no need for comfort, for his sole presence already means a lot to her. The fact that he's there, watching her drown in her own sorrow is a sign that someone cares, someone sees the ugliness of her thoughts yet, he’s still willing to stay.

Hyunjin shifts on the floor, trying to conjure the perfect words for her, the perfect words that would make her magically see all the goodness this world has to offer, that at some point, she’ll realize that happiness is different from all people, that maybe she simply hasn’t found hers.

“Y/n, I can’t miraculously make you happy, or make you see that people care and love you, but I can help. I can stay with you and guide you through it, so please, give me this chance. Just once, let me help you find yourself.”

The words hang in the air, both Hyunjin and you processing the weight of them. Hyunjin wants to say more, he wants to say that he’d repeat the process of healing with her a million times if needed, in every universe, in every life time if needed.

“Help me Hyunjin…” Her answer surprised him, for a second he thinks he imagined it for how vulnerable and quiet it sounded. Still, she said it, she allowed him to guide her, to show her, to help her through this, and he’s more than happy to help the one person he doesn’t want to see this desperate ever again.

[artzval]

Tales of Featherbug and

Catastrophe

— Stolitz Miraculous Ladybug AU —

•|| Link Art and comics ||• ~ •|| link One shots ||•

Welcome to my AU!

Brace yourself, this AU is basically the perfect lovechild of Miraculous and Helluva Boss but with extra chaos, extra gay panic, and extra Blitzø being a little shit.

Of course, misunderstandings and secrets are going to make y'all mad from exasperation, but stay with me, it's going to be worth it I promise!

First things first: it wouldn't be a miraculous au without a good old and nervewracking—

Love Square™:

Blitzø (Civilian) → Stolas (Civilian): Blitzø sees Stolas as this insufferable, spoiled rich kid with too much money and not enough spine. He assumes Stolas awkward stammering is just snobbish arrogance (spoiler: it's not, he's just really bad at dealing with his massive crush)

Blitzø (Civilian) → Featherbug (Hero Stolas): Blitzø is OBSESSED with Featherbug. He thinks Featherbug is the epitome of grace, charm, and pure perfection. The fact that he's secretly Stolas? Yeah, Blitzø has no idea. He would have a heart attack.

Stolas (Civilian) → Blitzø (Civilian): Poor Stolas is head over heels for Blitzø. He's charmed by and envies his fiery personality and the way he seems to defy the world. But he can't figure out why Blitzø always gives him the cold shoulder. (Stolas, sweetie, the can incident didn't help.)

Stolas (Civilian) → Catastrophe (Hero Blitzø): Stolas finds Blitzø's hero form exciting and reckless, but it's bittersweet because no one could ever compare to his Blitzy. He's happy to have him as his Best Friend and partner tho, he never had a friend before! (Also, Blitzø as a hero is 100% a flirty mess, and Stolas cannot compute, he's getting tired of rejecting him)

The rest of the Chaos:

Aka all the lore I came up with for this AU.

There are probably going to be some changes, but at the moment this feels like a good enough base.

1) Marinette was the One that left the Miraculous in Stolas and Blitzø’s world through a multiversal portal. In her universe, the fearsome The Supreme was nearly defeated but managed to escape, too weakened to be an immediate threat. Fearing he might still be working in the shadows, Marinette temporarily hid the Miraculous in a faraway place, out of reach from anyone who could use them for evil. She instructed Tikki and Plagg to reveal themselves in case of necessity.

2) The Supreme followed the Miraculous into the new universe. Although he is too weak to wield them himself, he managed to slip into the shadows and manipulate Barbie, preying on her pain and her longing to have her mother back. This makes him a silent but constant threat, waiting for the right moment to seize the most important miraculous and make a wish himself.

3) Barbie is the one misusing the miraculous of the butterfly, akumatizing people to bring her mom back. She’s just as desperate and unhinged as Gabriel, but with chaotic edgy teen vibes. (Not so different from org Gabi)

But how did she acquire such a powerful artifact??

THE SUPREME. The supreme found her at her worst, after running away from home and pried on her grief and incapability of forgiving her twin.

4) Blitzø works with his family in the circus section of the city zoo, they try to scrape by day by day. They're new in town, a year and half after the accidental fire that killed his mom and disabled him.

Blitzø had bad days where he needs to use a cane to walk ( like Adrien in the first script). Considering he's now not capable of amazing tricks, he's forced to sell nuts and cotton candy all night.

5) Andrehalphus as Chloé: Andrehalphus is here to bring ALL the petty, privileged AND RACIST drama. And speaking of drama, must be fun being homophobic and having a crush on Stolas. Good luck 🤨

Stella is also Chloé.

6) Millie and Moxxie as Alya and Nino. Also I.M.P is a band.

7) Loona is an illegitimate daughter of Blitzø's father. Her mother just passed away and CPS left her at their "doorstep". Blitzø will start taking care of her as if she were his own daughter, Cash Buckzo is incapable of taking care of anyone outside himself.

8) The Gum Incident™ from the Origin episode is now called "The Can incident"™ : Canonically happens, canonically NEVER explained. Blitzø is salty about it forever.

Honestly?

Who wouldn't be ? Imagine get to class after a piss and the rich kid had messed up your can making you fall in front of the whole class.

#Tales of Featherbug and Catastrophe AU

[agirlwithglam]

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hi vanilla, it's mindy here. you're a favorite mutual of mine, and inspiration, and i just HAD to get your personal advice. i love your advice so much and it's just so helpful!

i wanted to know what one uncommon self-improvement tip is you wished more people knew about? i feel like nowadays a lot of the same advice is spread around, especially when it comes to self-improvement. so, is there any tips/advice that you personally would give out, and wished more people talked about?

thank you @agirlwithglam !! you're always an inspiration to me. all love from mindy <3

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AHHH stop thankyou so much mindy!! thats so so so sweet, i love YOUR advice girl!! thankyou 100x for that sweet msg, love ya sm!! ps. i love this question!!

as for an uncommon self-improvement tip that i don't see being said often, its the idea of future nostalgia!

future nostalgia

i heard this concept only once in a podcast episode with unjaded jade & tam kaur and i am not lying at all when i say that it truly changed the way i percieve my life right now. let me explain....

have you ever felt nostalgia for the past? you probably have. maybe you miss the days when you're a little kid and you got to have fun running around and playing, or maybe you've moved out from living with ur parents and you miss your family? thats nostalgia, yes? even if you didn't like the situation in that moment, you still miss it now and you may feel like you should've appreciated it more.

so future nostalgia is the idea that imagine you're in the future, feeling nostalgic for this very moment/ situation. maybe in the future you're world famous and you miss the days when everything was just quiet and nobody knew you, you'd feel nostalgic for the moment right now.

so pretend you actually got the chance, the opportunity to go back to this moment right now. how would you feel? personally, i'd appreciate this moment so much more and feel a lot happier knowing that this is something i could be nostalgic about in the future. i'd feel so lucky that i had the opportunity to relive this beautiful moment.

thankyou again for the sweet messege and your question @glowettee !! i hope this helped in any way 💓

xoxo, vanilla

[shaanks]

every time you speak of shanks an angel gains back its wings. your latest post about shanks and how the fandom depicts him badly... like yes you get it.

I would like to think this side of the fandom, that yk contributes with fan work and shares a safe place, understands and loves one piece's themes and depth of the characters better than well, power scalers for example. Like I'm pretty sure everyone dislikes power scaling because it excludes the themes, plot and characters' personalities and thoughts, only making it about 'feats' and strength.

But ironically the same happens on this side of the fandom with characters' fanon archetypes. Watering down characters' personalities into a few 'main'' features and making them almost as shallow as power scalers do. And dear god does Shanks' 'incompetent' -archetype piss me off. When Shanks is exclusively portrayed as just an alcoholic, not taking anything seriously, bad at reading emotions and his crew is always exasperated with him. This depiction is just so frustrating because it doesn't feel like Shanks at all??? Like where do people get this interpretation of him??

1. Alcohol abuse. Do we ever even see Shanks drunk? Yes we see him drinking and partying (with Mihawk, Makino and Ace at least) but in these moments it seems like he's genuinely just having fun, he's celebrating Luffy. No one calls Zoro an alcoholic even though he is drinking Sake for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But bcs Shanks drinks beer when partying or IN A BAR and Sake in like that one scene with Becks he has alcohol problems. ok. cool.

2. Not taking anything seriously. Bruh. Again I feel like there's more moments where Shanks is serious than where he isn't. I don't even know what to say to this bcs the material speaks for itself.

3. Bad at reading emotions/just incompetent. Kinda going together with the previous point. I think this comes from that scene with Buggy where they were literally kids that just lost their whole family. How was Shanks supposed to know what to do there when Buggy didn't know either. Idk how people can blame Shanks in that situation, NEITHER ONE was at fault. To me he is one of the most competent characters in the whole show. He's an emperor of the sea yet not ruthless and evil like Kaido and Big Mom (or the WG). He handles situations maturely and ends more fights than starts them. Let's a lot of bullshit slide by the next generation like with Kidd and Bart. People seem to love him and be comfortable with him (that one lady hugging him sigh im jealous). Whitebeard pirates trusting him with Whitebeard and Ace's burial. etc.

4. His crew is always exasperated with him/He's a bad captain. Bro howwww HOW. Beck has like one line that's something like "Shanks is a lot" and to me that's just teasing. No one says that Luffy and Roger are bad captains even though they seem more chaotic than Shanks, but again it's an issue only when Shanks' crew teases him bruh!! He has a healthy relationship with his crew like Luffy cmon guys. But ig this headcanon only exists if you already think that Shanks is an alcoholic or something. Bcs I just can't understand it otherwise.

Okay this has gotten insanely long I'm so sorry LOL. I really needed to rant this out it seems... and I could've ranted even more. Ik he's just a fictional character and it's not that serious yada yada. Buuuuut I just wish we could see his character be explored more in the fandom!! I feel like this archetype is just misunderstanding his character so badly it genuinely hurts my brain. Anyways. Thank you for always blessing us with amazing Shanks headcanons. Genuinely like a breath of fresh air. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG SJKFHSK

Okay so first PLEEEEASE never apologize for sending me long impassioned messages I love hearing from people and I love talkin about Shanks (or anything anyone wants to talk about!) together!

I wanna go through this point by point so I don't miss anything so i'm gonna put this under the cut for ease of viewing but for your primary point I REALLY agree. I feel like a lot of people selectively ignore character nuance unless its about their faves, or easy to digest, and so especially people who have already kind of written Shanks off will just take the top 2 surface level traits we see of him--carefree and silly--and just throw everything else out with the bathwater.

Which like. To a degree I understand there are like 70 relevant and recurring characters outside the Strawhats and nobody is gonna put max brain power into all of them, but I feel like there's a difference between skimming a character and totally mischaracterizing them--and then dunking on or hating that character BASED on said mischaracterization. Weird work, to say the least. But okay, the rest under the cut --

You put the points by numbers so I will too just for the sake of organization.

Okay, so, Shanks' alcohol usage is implied in canon to be a dependency issue, but NOT in the way fandom tends to want to write him. We have actually seen Shanks drunk several times--the manga does a better job of depicting that clearly than the anime does but it's whatever--but generally when him being intoxicated is getting focus, it's to parallel Rayleigh, Rayleigh's drinking problem, and the implied reasons for said drinking problem. Shanks has spent the better part of 25 years pretty regularly intoxicated, but because it's implied that he knows things about the world, about the war that's coming, about what Roger saw and learned, perhaps about his own lineage, and the stress of that knowledge is driving him to drink. There is a major tonal difference between the times where he's shown drinking with his friends and having a party, and the times when he's shown actively drunk, but the parts of the fandom who have chosen him to shit all over for no reason tend to throw out both the context of him having fun with his friends AND the context of him drinking to deal with the stress of his position and just chalk it up to "dumb irresponsible alcoholic who is lazy and drinks constantly expecting to have his messes cleaned up for him" which is like soooooooooooooooooooooo endlessly infuriating lmfao.

This one gets under my skin all the time. Shanks puts on a silly goofy exterior and acts like he's too laid back to be bothered about things on purpose!!!! Either to make his friends and the people around him feel more comfortable, or to stop stupid disputes in bars from escalating to violence all the time. Shanks, in generally, is a really kind and laid back guy. He wants to have fun with his friends without them being uncomfortable around him due to his stature or status, and also doesn't want to have to end up fighting idiots left right and center. The fact that he's laid back most of the time is a SIGN of how seriously he takes his responsibilities, both as captain and as an emperor. Shanks will be like "I'm not gonna pick a fight with these people over a little spilled liquor lol" and people will really be like "look he's so stupid and lazy he won't even fight back" and i'm like. Y'all just drew the same conclusions as an 8 year old. Like surely y'all realize how sad that is right?? He's dedicated his entire adult life to being responsible for the world, it's fate, the new generation, and whatever job Roger left him saddled with, stopped a war, stopped Kaido and Big Mom from going on a rampage, tried his damndest to get Whitebeard to recall Ace before things went south, lost his ARM to make sure Luffy was safe and people will just like close their eyes and plug their ears about it. Sighs.

Shanks is both deeply observant and incredibly emotionally competent, and that's part of why he plays things so close to his chest!!! He purposefully makes his public persona a little flighty and vague because it's better for everyone if he's not honed directly in on everything. His internal monologue and thoughts are always apt, perceptive, thoughtful, and compassionate, but as always those things get swept under the rug bc applying nuance to this man makes it harder for people to write him off as a dumb drunk slut. :/ Also the people who put the blame on him for the miscommunication after Roger's death boggle my mind. Shanks and Buggy were 14 years old, had just watched their father figure be killed by marines after having spent a year watching his health deteriorate and their crew fall apart, and suddenly found themselves totally alone in a hostile world. They were children. Buggy was terrified because it seemed like the last tie he had to a stable life--his best friend--was giving up before his eyes, and Shanks was overwhelmed by loss and fear and the burden of whatever Roger left at his feet to accomplish. Of course they fucked up that interaction. Most adults wouldn't have probably handled that very well. Idk what people wanted out of them exactly but whatever lol.

This one is so crazy because if you look with your eyes for even one second at the Red Hair Pirates it's CLEAR that they all fucking adore him. Everyone is always looking at him with so much fondness, affection, and respect, they tease him about things sure but it's always playful and in good fun!!! Benn has a bit of resting serious man face and a dry sense of humor, but it's really clear when he's just teasing Shanks to get a rise out of him, and how much affection and mutual respect is there. And yet there's a really dedicated part of the fandom that constantly writes like his crew and everyone who has ever cared for him is just faking it ig?? And can hardly tolerate him?? Or think he's a bad captain? Like they could have made it that far if his crew didn't respect him lmfao. IDK how they all mesh how universally adored he is by his crew and subordinate crews in canon with their world view because it is not subtle at ALL.

Okay I think that covers all your points!!! tl;dr is I fully agree, I think people are really determined to dislike and misunderstand him for reasons that boggle my mind, and it's frustrating to see lmfao.

Thank you so much for your message and your kind words, I'm glad I can offer a little bit of a Shanks Sanctuary here!!

[lightlycareless]

hey!! i saw the A-Z thing and I have a question about Z, what if reader died but it was after they had children? would naoya turn to drinking or would it be different

Hello!!!

Oh my god y'all just love making me suffer don't you? Can't blame you IM ALL FOR IT HAHAHA. But I won't deny that this thought has been on my mind outside of the alphabet. sooo....

Here are them warnings: angst. you're dead and naoya has to (not) deal with that. here is the alphabet anon is referring to. (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Happy reading!

I wish to say that he’d manage to maintain his values of never indulging in any vices, remain strong, especially his children, and move on—

But he can’t. As much as he wants to do so, for himself at least, he just… can’t.

He simply can’t.

And Naoya finally crumbles the moment he accepts you’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

No one has ever seen Naoya so… defeated. So abandoned that all he could do is aimlessly make his way through life as days go by, worsening the more prominent your absence becomes.

You’re not there to warm his bed anymore.

To greet him first thing in the morning and kiss him goodnight once everyone’s tucked to sleep.

Listen to his ailments once work became too much to handle or when he needed an escape from his overwhelming relatives that just kept going on and on and on again about how he needed to act like a suitable heir, take control of his life and stop spoiling his family too much— it was unbefitting of a proper man of the Zen’in, after all.

No more messages here and there, little notes poured with your love, attempting to describe how much you missed him, but he knows the pain of his distance was much greater than you could possibly write down.

And of course, his favorite. Pictures of your family outings, those happy moments he couldn’t wait to be part of once he came back; yet continued to perform his job as was expected of him, because it’s what kept his loved ones stated.

Happy.

With all the things they wanted and deserved.

His very own family, consisting of a beautiful wife, an adorable daughter, a shy son, and playful twins whom he could never tire no matter how much he tried; even with years of training, he just couldn’t catch up to them!

Naoya never felt more fulfilled in his life than when he formed a family with you.

Feeling strong enough to face anything, and do whatever it took to protect it.

Anything…

Just not your death.

At first, your husband managed to be there for his children, wipe their tears as they processed was grief was for the first time in their life, while doing his best to explain where you were, that though you weren’t there physically anymore, you still watched over them.

That you’d always be in their hearts, that you were never truly gone, as long as they honored your memory…

But he never took his own advice, not when he could barely wake up without feeling his heart break into a million pieces at the cold, absence in his bed.

How did he expect to be strong, when deep within, he was also a frightened child in need of that same comfort he offered them?

It’s only because your family was constantly checking in on him that he managed to survive, stop himself from doing anything drastic.

That Naoya didn’t become a desolate alcoholic or even consider the immoral for the slightest opportunity to see you again. One last time—

He falls, he succumbs to the darkest, deepest pits of his mind and drowns himself in them.

Yet, with the vivid memory of your love for him, Naoya eventually manages to overcome this obstacle and continues to honor the promise he made to you: protect his family, his kids, who undoubtedly needed him the most.

But this does not mean he ever moves on from you, no, not at all. He might come to terms to your death, but he would never look at another woman like he did to you.

Even if his family pesters him to do so for the sake of the clan, even if his trusted friends might attempt to convince him he deserves a second chance, that you would’ve wanted him to continue being happy one way or the other…

Naoya simply does not entertain the idea of ever replacing you. He’s given all the love he could give, felt all that he could feel—and that’s how he wants it to conclude.

With you as the sole receiver of his affection.

With the notion that at least he managed to experience what true love was, even when fleeting, but still unforgettable, forever imprinted in his heart.

It’s why his children don’t suffer much when seeing him in the last instants of his life, in fact, they were happy for him, understanding that this was the moment he was impatiently waiting for.

After years, and years, and years of longing, he’d finally reunite with you.

There’s a smile on his face as he takes his last breath, one last heartbeat and then—

“I’m home.”

tldr: more than becoming an alcoholic, I always liked the idea of naoya considering the immoral when it comes to jujutsu and bringing you back. he's just... that desperate to have you in his arms, he'd be willing to desecrate your memory for a chance of seeing you again :(

maybe during halloween i'll try to explore this idea a bit more :> until then...

thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I had a good time feeling sad about this scenario lol now, take care and hope to see you soon 💖💖

[ponury-grajek]

yeager brothers in some modern!AU

[darth-does-stuff]

ok everybody saying dan fucks is conrad’s dad you do you but for ME personally the fix will always be conrad’s dad because dan gives cool uncle vibes 1000000% percent more than the fix ever will. but we will both live our truth and we will both be happy 🤝

[khaopybara]

There are many layers to this.

The official subtitles say "I've heard that P'Khaotung and P'First are close", when Fourth says P'Book. Of course, First and Khaotung are close. Have you seen them?

Khaotung is a shopaholic apparently, but we already knew that. First always says that Khaotung takes him out to shop whenever they are abroad.

Even when First isn't there, he is there somehow.

[sillylittleguyinatrenchcoat]

geto meme batch bc i love one man <3 + this week’s episode broke me like a sad flimsy piñata

[schmweed]

[sacrilegiousoul]

this is crazy yall. im about to get real whimsical about a lot stuff real quick

[usertoxicyaoi]

#Just Sung Ho laying his head on his boyfriend's Jun Sung's leg.

HIS MAN 2 (2023). Episode 9.

[scattered-winter]

every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

[cathymee]

maybe it's to maintain a sense of tension & turmoil that would eventually reach an explosive peak, a sense of tug-of-war, a back-and-forth to hammer home the ideals they want to deliver and for the viewers to chew on, but although these arguments regarding hiroshi & his stance as a man torn between his loyalty for his country & the loyalty for his Filipino friends and lover is of course important, how they write these scenes & the points they present from this week alone is getting too repetitive...? literally the argument scenes from last night & tonight between adelina & hiroshi is basically the same; the ideas were the same, the dynamics were the same: the aggressive, radical adelina, bristling rage and fear over the injustices she's seen thus far, and the cautious, inspiriting hiroshi, all hopefulness and reassurance one moment as a lover, defensiveness and sternness as a japanese soldier in another. this debate will be ever-present ofc, it is one of the series' biggest conflicts, but it is unfortunately so easy to tell when it is a.) being pulled up as a main topic to move the plot along / be a necessary conflict for character development/introspection / be the conflict to deliver the morals & messages the writers want to send to their viewers, or b.) when it is being pulled up only for the drama and filler to pass the time. like watching the characters sit down to argue for 10 minutes, do other things for the plot for 2 minutes, then sit down again to argue for the next 20 minutes. lol.