zebob16

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

It's hard being someone who does genuinely get infuriated with Ford's actions and acknowledges a lot of his flaws and the people he hurt, while also liking (and relating) to his character enough that I would like him to have nice things sometimes and don't believe he's satan

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader 

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

-

next chapter is gonna be the last!

-

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(TUMBLR WONT LET ME TAG ANY OTHER PEOPLE UGHH)

[yinyuedijun]

kitsune!suo x fem reader | feudal japan au

→ notes for an au set in feudal japan, featuring supernatural creatures and spirits (e.g., youkai). suo is a kitsune, sakura is a nekomata, and nirei is an onmyouji. → see this post for backstory on the bofurin trio (recommended background reading)

note: most information on kitsune-mochi were sourced from folkorist lafcadio hearn's accounts of traveling in japan (c.1901). I did, of course, also take creative license with some of the lore.

reader | kitsune-mochi (fox-employing witch)

→ as a kitsune-mochi, you are a human who has entered a contract with a fox spirit to care for it in exchange for having it lend you its power and carry out your requests. → in your case, your familiar is suo, a nine-tailed kitsune that lost his hoshi no tama. → most witches employ kitsune for the purpose of carrying out malicious acts, like having the fox spirit possess their enemies, steal the wealth of other people, etc. you, however, rely on suo and his power in order to perform exorcisms and exterminate demons—something that you cannot do on your own because you have no innate spiritual talents yourself.

→ although a convenient source of power, these deals are typically risky for the contract holder. you are expected to care for suo for the rest of your life, and any descendants you might have would be cursed to serve him as well. kitsune-mochi are heavily ostracized by human society as well, so if this relationship of yours were to be discovered, then your entire bloodline would suffer. → additionally, these contracts typically favour the kitsune, as they are the ones who define what it means to be "cared for", and may request dangerous or unreasonable tasks. → fortunately for you, suo is not a very demanding familiar! the most basic act of caring for a fox spirit is feeding it, and he's more or less happy with anything you make, though he especially likes tea, wagashi, or dishes with aburaage. this is more or less all he asks of you! → suo's disposition is generally so patient and gentle that you nearly disbelieved that he was a youkai. you were convinced for a while that he was actually a messenger of god who was lying to you about his identity for some reason. (at the very least, you'd noticed that he had a habit of lying to people generally, though this was an unsurprising trait for a fox and it was usually harmless fun.) → this perception of him was shattered when you saw him fight a youkai that seriously injured you. he spent an uncomfortable amount of time toying with it in a distinctly humiliating fashion before finally putting it out of its misery. it was only in that moment that you realised that you'd signed yourself and all of your descendants up for serving a literal demon 👍

→ warning: immortal/human relationship, immortal deity meets reader as a child but doesn't get to know or grow close to them until they're an adult

your backstory with suo

→ at a very young age, you were adopted and raised by a priestess of an inari shrine belonging to a small mountain village. consequently, you developed a deep respect for the kami and affection for foxes. → as a child, you once found a one-eyed, wild fox in a near-death state. this was suo after he lost his hoshi no tama in a battle with a demon—but to you, he just looked like a regular animal. most people would have let this creature die peacefully, but you were adamant on nursing it back to health. while caring for him, you named him mr. adzuki because of the colour of his fur, which suo finds incredibly funny to this day. → suo disappeared after recovering, never making his true identity known. however, out of gratitude toward you and the priestesses for allowing him refuge, he decided to act as the guardian spirit of the village, protecting it until the end of your life. → conveniently, this meant that suo got to eat all the offerings given to inari's messengers at your shrine, as well as allowing him to gain power from the prayers directed toward him. (inari himself seemed not to mind, as no actual fox messengers showed up to throw hands with suo.)

image: gashadokuro, a youkai made from the skulls of humans who died in battle.

→ although your village was peaceful throughout your childhood due to suo's protection, in your adult years, a violent conflict between humans and demons broke out in your mountain range. this resulted in the destruction of nearly all its towns and the brutal deaths of your fellow villagers. suo, not at full power, was unable to stop this, but made it his goal to save you from the carnage. → after allowing you time to grieve your loved ones, suo—still considering himself indebted to you—asked what you would like to do next. he offered you wealth, status, and other material things, but none of these appealed to you. → recognising that the mountains you grew up in would be plagued by malevolent spirits and demons for centuries after all the bloodshed that just occurred, you asked suo to teach you jujutsu. your goal was to exorcise all the vengeful spirits, exterminate the demons, and purify the mountain range so that its villages could peacefully rebuild. → given your lack of innate spiritual abilities, suo suggested that you make a pact with him and become a kitsune-mochi to acquire powers. not wanting to deceive you, however, he fully explained how dangerous it might be to enter such a relationship, and warned you not to trust fox youkai like himself.

→ nevertheless, you accepted his offer and became a witch.

image: sakura irl

meeting sakura & nirei

→ you and suo thus embark on this crazy mission to purify the entire mountain range. while you are more than capable of exorcisms and exterminations, your spiritual abilities (one of a youkai) do not allow you to purify the land. → but that's okay, because nirei and sakura have been traversing these same mountains to exorcise and hunt demons! being an onmyouji, nirei can perform all kinds of purification rituals. when you inevitably run into the two of them, and suo suggests that you all work together. → nirei is more than happy to help you purify the mountain range (because he is a good-hearted person, and also because he usually gets assignments there anyway). he improves his jujutsu under suo's tutelage, and he gets insights on kitsune that he'd otherwise never learn (it's rare for an onmyouji to meet a kitsune-mochi unless it's to prosecute them for some kind of crime, and it's just plain hard to meet and talk with a nine-tailed fox spirit). → sakura is a harder sell. he doesn't trust suo at all at the start, and he trusts him even less when he finds out that he's a kitsune and has been lying egregiously to him. (sakura and nirei spent an entire month thinking that suo was a traveling tea merchant from china and being fed severe misinformation about the entire country.) → however, sakura is very curious about you, because you're the first human he's ever met who has a mutual and trusting relationship with a demon, which he didn't think was possible beyond weirdos like nirei. → you also aren't afraid of him at all even after seeing his nekomata form, which gives him complicated feelings. he reasons that this is because you've fought too many demons to be afraid of any of them, but the actual truth is just that you find suo incredibly scary, and sakura feels harmless and adorable in comparison </3 → sakura deeply enjoys the act of helping the mountain towns and being accepted by their communities, though he's very shy about admitting it! eventually, he does "resign" to joining you in a long-term arrangement, and the four of you take on the endless mission of exorcising and cleansing the mountain range together. it's a very "monster of the week" type of set-up hehe

→ although the work of purifying the mountain range will likely take the rest of your life (and probably will require generations after you), suo often asks you what you would like to do after the work is complete—so that he can think of ways to grant your request. → you decide not to tell him this, but your wish would be to return to your old village grounds and rebuild the shrine that you grew up in. rather than just inari, you would also dedicate it to the worship of the one-eyed fox spirit that once protected your village.

[midnightsslut]

the whole cardigan/Peter parallels are messing my head can u explain

okay so peter is actually one of my favorite songs on the album for this reason! I think it has parallels to a lot of other songs, not just cardigan. the first thing to get out of the way is the cardigan lyric about peter and wendy: ‘tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy.’ now, that line doesn’t make a ton of sense because peter losing wendy is the ending of peter pan (idk I’ve never seen it and never thought I’d spend this long thinking about them), but I think what she’s saying is that he tried to change the ending of *their* story to peter losing wendy. peter loses her because she outgrows him, while he remains a ‘lost boy’ forever. the cardigan demo has an alternate lyric where peter actually *leaves* wendy. this does not happen in the original story, and to me, it reads like betty (eh, I don’t think those characters existed when she wrote that song, but bear with me) is accusing him of trying to change their fate by leaving her. peter is meant to always come back to wendy. *she* is the one who eventually leaves him. either way, cardigan ends with them together. yay for betty and/or taylor.

now, peter was written 3-4 years later, and it is the conclusion of a story about outgrowing someone despite truly wanting them back. the ending was not, in fact, changed. she did outgrow him. very sad. I actually want to go lyric by lyric, but I’ll put a cut just in case.

Forgive me Peter

My lost fearless leader

In closets like cedar

Preserved from when we were just kids

Is it something I did

the song starts with taylor trying to figure out what went wrong. did she do something wrong to crush these dreams of theirs? she kept him in a closet of cedar (where unmarried women kept their belongings that they would want to take with them after getting married) in her mind, but things didn’t work out anyway. the first line being ‘forgive me, peter’ indicates that she is the one who pulled the plug, and she’s apologizing for it. again, she isn’t entirely sure what went wrong, which, to me, is a clear parallel to how did it end.

The goddess of timing

Once found us beguiling

She said she was trying

Peter was she lying

My ribs get the feeling she did

when they first met, the timing seemed to be perfect for their relationship (‘the goddess of timing *once* found us beguiling’), but that didn’t last. the goddess of timing claimed that she tried, but nothing could save them. taylor even wonders if she lied, which suggests a lack of faith in higher powers like fate or deities. this verse introduces timing as a major conflict in the story. ‘are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these?’

Said you were gonna grow up

Then you were gonna come find me

Words from the mouths of babes

Promises, oceans deep

But never to keep

peter went away, but he promised to come down once he was ready for a relationship. yes, this kind of applies to both of the main storylines on the album. you could take this to mean that they actually broke up a decade ago but promised to get back together, or you could assume there was some sort of break to their relationship, which she and joe did have. i kind of took it to mean that he wasn’t fully committed to the relationship, but he promised to be eventually. again, the renegade lyric, but also ‘i’m a fire, and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come’ and ‘I’d hold you as the water rushes in,��� both of which are grand promises that neither party could keep.

Are you still a mind reader?

A natural scene stealer

I've heard great things Peter

But life was always easier on you

Than it was on me

he is charismatic. his magnetic field is a little too strong. he can read people. but he’s also fragile and inexperienced (‘he was a hothouse flower to my outdoorsman’). he may be able to read people, but things have been way too easy for him to ever understand a truly hurt person fully.

And sometimes it gets me

When crossing your jet stream

We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon

In different galaxies

And I didn't want to hang around

We said it was just goodbye for now

this is the thesis statement of their relationship to me. obviously, there’s the call it what you want parallel, but more importantly, it shows that the two people really wanted this to work. they just came from completely different places in their lives and perhaps the entire universe. this verse seems to reference the epilogue (‘resentment rotting away galaxies we created’ / ‘some stars never align’). they learned the right steps to different dances, if you will. she knew he needed time, so she left temporarily.

And I won't confess that I waited

But I let the lamp burn

As the men masqueraded

I hoped you'd return

With your feet on the ground

Tell me all that you'd learned

Cause love's never lost when perspective is earned

she does get with other men, but she keeps longing for him. she wishes that he would return with a grasp on reality and be the man she needs. if anything, the time away would give him the perspective he needs to ground himself. interesting parallel to ‘I said I don’t mind / it takes time’ in loml.

And you said you'd come and get me but you were 25

And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired

Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life

Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried

To hold onto the days when you were mine

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

this is just devastating to me. well, first of all, both matty and joe were 25 when they first met her, which, lol. the dreams they had together have expired now. it’s been too long. she cannot keep holding onto a love from almost a decade ago. he took too long to return. he lost his lifelong dreams to what was only supposed to be a chapter of his life. she tried to hold onto the days when he was hers, and everything was right, but she had to turn out the light at some point. this is the moment when she gives up on their relationship. she apologizes for abandoning the ship, but she must do it.

overall, I think peter is a story about two people who genuinely did everything they could to be together, but their needs and their growth no longer aligned. there’s a sense of acceptance and lingering fondness here. she did everything she could not to bolt, but the ending was the same.

[utilitycaster]

I’m not sure if you have seen this theory but what’s your thoughts on “the raven queen could be Ludinus’s mother”? I’ve seen it float around on twitter and honestly, to me, it seems a little far fetched.

I have, and I agree with you.

I guess the best way to put it is that there's a lot of theories about Ludinus, and that's extremely valid, but I've found that people are extremely weird about these theories in a way I haven't really seen elswhere.

Personally, I find the idea that Ludinus is lying about most of his past - that he is just a guy from immediately-post-Divergence Issylra who moved to Molaesmyr, destroyed it in an attempt to commune with Ruidus, and established himself as a permanent fixture in the relatively young Dwendalian Empire in order to further his ultimate goals - is by far the most compelling. It feels extremely real for someone with grandiose designs to deliberately invoke an idealized version of the Age of Arcanum that was destroyed; we see this all the time in real life appeals to classical Western antiquity from would-be dictators. I also think he is, in many ways, not sympathetic per se but very...human (well, elven) for being frustrated at having to gather information of this time he believes to be lost and far better than today piecemeal, from whatever scraps remain. I think if he had firsthand knowledge but still took 800 years to figure out what the fuck to do? He's less clever and less heartbreaking and somehow, despite not lying about his age, far more of a windbag.

However, this is just my preference! It's also entirely possible he is from pre-Calamity. And here's where I start to get less generous. Because pre-Calamity? Totally fine. He insinuates that he is. He does so in the same conversation in which he insinuates he is Ruidusborn, which we know he isn't, and it's implied that not many people have caught on to his age (indicating that he probably appeared pretty young when he arrived in Molaesmyr) and since his device appears to have possibly been invented in Molaesmyr my gut feeling is that he was either a child during the final years of Calamity or immediately after. That's just a gut feeling. He easily could be older.

The thing is, literally all we have is "might have been around pre-Calamity" and it feels like people treat two very common specific theories - that he is from Aeor, and that he is the son of the Raven Queen - as fact, when all of the Ludinus theories are purely vibes-based. All we can say with any confidence is "older than he looks, definitively over 500 and almost certainly over an elf's natural lifespan of 750."

Re: The Raven Queen theory, what personally strikes me as far-fetched is that the Raven Queen's original name is lost, but who she was was not lost. She taught Patia. Wouldn't people...know that Ludinus was her child? Like, I suppose the answer can be "Matt didn't want to give spoilers away" but it feels like it raises questions about EXU Calamity that in all the discussion of people interested in ascension, the fact that the Raven Queen had a son doesn't ever once come up. And if he were a secret? That's also a question! And if he were the child of the now forgotten deity of death? What does that mean for him? Wouldn't he be a demigod, probably, of sorts? Can the gods reproduce? Was he the Raven Queen's child with some random guy? It's not that it's not possible, but I feel like boiling his stuff about the gods down to "Mommy issues" is reductive, far less interesting, and it raises more questions than it answers which is always in my mind a sign to steer clear of a theory.

And then there's the Aeor part, which just...I don't actually know where this comes from because if he were the Raven Queen's son it's pretty clear he'd be from Avalir, as she was all but stated to be, but people seem to treat these two things as both true sometimes. I feel Aeor feels far-fetched specifically because I think he'd have been far more able to rebuild Aeorian tech if he was from there. I suppose it's possible he was just a mediocre schmo while Aeor still existed, and has taken on a last survivor, must reclaim the glory of "city that was about to nuke another city simply as a weapon's test" mentality; but also, Aeor expeditions are relatively recent in the timeline of Post-Divergence Exandria. You think this man couldn't have popped up there and taken a leisurely look at the ruin of the Malleus Factorum any time before the past 60-ish years, before Uthodurn started poking around? Why didn't he mention Aeor in his notes in Molaesmyr? Again, more questions are raised than answered, and that casts doubt for me.

So it's hard for me to be objective here just because I find so much of the "Ludinus is pre-Calamity" theorizing to be just...really humorless and brittle and presumptive, and often not terribly interesting. Obviously if we get a definitive answer, and he is the child of the Raven Queen or is Aeorian (if he's both I'm going to roll my eyes because that's just sloppy, Matthew) or even if he was just a guy from pre-Calamity and not terribly important, I'll incorporate that into my understanding! But there's this childish demand that everyone treat what is ultimately an unconfirmed theory as immutable fact. I've seen people act like shitposting about Ludinus is somehow offensive because it violates their personal headcanons, and that's just peak main character behavior on their part. The idea that Ludinus is 800 and deliberately building a cult of personality rooted in the idealization of the Age of Arcanum (while conveniently ignoring that this age was when the Prime Deities -and only the Prime Deities - walked the earth; and that life outside the flying cities was rather less idyllic and wizard-run, and that the titans were still sealed away) is no less valid than the idea that he's 1200 and the son of the Raven Queen and/or from Aeor. All we know for certain is "definitely has been active and accounted for for over 500 years, almost certainly more, is definitely extending his lifespan through eating fey souls."

[chainofhyrule]

Incomparable

If there was only to be one thing in the universe which the deity could wish for, it would be for the gods to strip him of his immortality.

A life in which he is forced to only be able to remember moments like this, never to hold you in his arms again, never to hear your laughter again, or watch as joy creeps into your eyes at the simplest of things again, sounded like torture.

How could the hand of fate be so cruel as to only make you mortal?

He would be lying to himself if he said he tried not to think about your mortality—the constant force of fleeting life which would never release you until you someday died. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bring his heart to tears at night, when he knew no one would be up.

Oh, how you held him around your finger so easily…so completely. He would face hell if it meant he could fall into your arms afterwards. The sun itself could hold no torch to your radiance, he thinks. Nor could the very essence of the sky itself, or even the stars. If he could, he’d gift them to you. Every star, he thinks, holds a reason why he has fallen so deeply in love with you. Countless dots of lights in the sky to hold his reasons, end yet, even then…there could never be enough stars in the sky for every reason.

He counted them often, on long nights where he relieved his former host of overnight watch shifts. Every last star held a reason. He relayed the rest of his reasons to the moon.

It was never enough.

On nights like tonight, where there was no moon but many stars, he sought out the constellations. Each one held a story.

He was much more fascinated in your stories, though.

He will be the first to admit, he was completely, entirely, devoted to you. No matter what the world may say to try and convince him that his time would be better spent elsewhere…he would return to you. Every single time.

Wind through his hair snapped him from his thoughts, and he found himself looking down at you. You seemed so comfortable here, in his lap, back to his chest as you slept. Your eyelids fluttered to the beat of your dreams. Every so often you let out a soft sound of sleep; each bringing a slight upturn of a smile to his face.

It was early in the night when you’d fallen asleep, having previously been telling the deity of the time you once managed to startle his former host—‘Time,’ he was called now—into a shriek. The soft vibrations of your voice against his chest made him feel warm inside, in ways he was entirely unfamiliar with until he met you. You were quite expressive with your hands, as well. They waved around, making small visual movements as you retold your stories to him, your smile audible in your voice. It was quite cute, he thought.

The blanket you hugged around yourself in slumber had shifted, and, with one arm still around your waist to rub small circles onto your stomach with his thumb, he stretched the other to fix it. He felt eyes on him, but did not mind.

“Is there something I can do for you, young one?”

He did not turn his head towards the group, all of which sat nearby, around the fire. His eyes remained down on you, and he rubbed his hand along your stomach in slow motions. He was rewarded by a soft hum of satisfaction.

“Are they okay?”

The one called ‘Wind’ sounded worried, though it was plain in his voice that he was fighting not to show it. The deity hummed, nodding.

“They will be alright. They are stronger than a simple stomach bug, after all.”

A short chorus of approving sounds found his ears, and the sounds of footsteps followed shortly after. Slow, and heavy.

The Captain.

“I wonder what they dream of when you’ve got them there like that,” he says slowly, gesturing to you. “That’s the most comfortable they’ve looked since this morning.”

The deity did not raise his gaze. Instead, he tilted his head ever so slightly to get a glimpse of your profile. Flushed cheeks, from your fever. Your hair falling into your face, as it had been left alone today due to your fatigue. The slightest pout to your bottom lip, from the discomfort in your belly. The deity felt for you. So, he held you.

That always seemed to lift your mood.

“Are you surprised?”

A beat of silence passed, where nothing was said. When words finally fell into the open space, they were not of the Captain’s, but of the one called ‘Sky.’ His tone was soft, per the usual, but always with the strength of a warrior just under the surface. He could command armies if he so wanted, though the deity doubted he did.

“They love you. It’s not surprising to know that they feel comfortable with you.”

Though it was a simple statement, the deity couldn’t help but revel in the warmth in his chest. Indeed, you did. You had told him this many times. That never stopped the words from making home in his heart.

“You love them, too.”

The voice of his former host startled the deity, though it didn’t show outwardly. His hands both rested over your aching belly, rubbing gently.

“That I do.”

Another long beat passed of silence. The deity didn’t mind, nor would he have minded conversation. All he really cared about was you. Were you too hot? Were you cold? In pain? Thirsty? Tired?

“I’m glad you’ve found happiness, Deity.”

Time’s voice was low, though not begrudging, or bitter. His words sounded and felt genuine in their intent.

“Thank you.”

His eyes flicked up, once, as he spoke. Every one of the boys was looking back at him, or at you. Watching his movements, however small, with interest. He didn’t blame them. There was no doubt his previous host had told them all about him. Perhaps referred to him as a weapon only to be used in the toughest of battles, or the most difficult hardships. He was a war deity, after all. Yet…

He was the only one you felt comfortable enough to sleep against. He was the one who held your heart in his hands, despite them being much bigger than yours. He was the one you coddled, and fawned over on the daily.

He was the one you trusted to rub your belly aches away.

You stirred in his arms, but did not wake. A soft groan spilled from you, and you hugged the blanket tighter around yourself.

So he kissed your head and went back to massaging your belly.

(Tap here to return to Masterlist)

[teine-mallaichte]

hello and welcome to dadwc!! maybe anders and the fantasy angst prompt of "accidentally triggering a magical trap"? uwu

I appear to be torturing Anders tonight... this is very much a part 1 as while writing my brain has come up with a vague plot for what is likely to become along fic once I have time - or perhaps a story through multiple snippets... we'll see Anyway, @dadrunkwriting fic number two - Anders touches something he shouldn't:

Anders treaded cautiously through the labyrinthine corridors of the Black Emporium, a place of ancient enigmas and arcane wonders nestled in the heart of Kirkwall. The air hung heavy with the scent of magic, a heady mixture of incense and the crackling energies that danced within the dimly lit space. Every step he took echoed softly against the walls, as if the very stones whispered secrets to each other in the language of ages past.

His fingers trailed lightly over the cool surface of a peculiar artifact, drawn to its mystical allure. In an instant, a surge of raw magic enveloped him, sending a shiver down his spine as reality itself seemed to warp and twist around him. Momentarily disoriented, Anders stumbled backward, his senses reeling from the sudden onslaught of power.

As the magical haze cleared, Anders found himself in a state of bewildered confusion. He felt neither fully present nor entirely absent, but rather suspended in a liminal state between worlds. His body seemed insubstantial, as if he were made of mist, n that suspended moment between solid and ethereal, Anders's mind raced with panic. The sensation of his body dissipating into mist left him feeling untethered, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Fear gripped him like icy tendrils, constricting his chest and clouding his thoughts with a primal instinct to flee.

After a few torturous seconds he finally managed to push aside his unease, chiding himself for his brief moment of fear. After all, even Xenon wouldn't simply leave anything too dangerous lying about, would he?

But as he watched Hawke pass through him without so much as a flicker of recognition, panic clawed at Anders' chest. He called out to Hawke, his voice trembling with desperation, but it was as if he were shouting into the void.

Frantically, Anders reached out, his hands grasping for something tangible, anything to anchor him to the physical world. But his fingers passed through objects like wisps of smoke, leaving him feeling more isolated and adrift than ever before. Trapped in this spectral prison, he watched helplessly as familiar faces came and went, oblivious to his presence. Hawke, Varric, Merrill—they moved through the shop with their own concerns, their voices distant and muffled, like echoes from another realm.

With each passing moment, Anders' desperation grew, fueled by the gnawing fear of being forgotten, of fading away into nothingness. Memories of his past flooded his mind, unbidden and unwelcome, dragging him back into the depths of despair. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories that threatened to consume him, but they persisted, clawing at his consciousness like hungry specters.

He found himself back in the Circle Tower, confined to a small, dark cell with walls that seemed to close in on him with each passing moment. The weight of isolation bore down on him like a suffocating blanket, crushing his spirit with its relentless grip. Days blurred into nights as Anders languished in his solitary prison, the only company the echoes of his own thoughts bouncing off the cold stone walls.

Meals came and went, pushed through a small flap in the door like offerings to a forgotten deity, the only indication that the outside world still existed beyond his cell. He lost track of time, of days and weeks and months blending together into a seamless tapestry of darkness and despair. All that remained was the silence, the emptiness, the unyielding solitude.

Hawke's voice sounded distant, distorted by the veil that separated them, but it was a lifeline dragging him back to the present. They hadn't forgotten about him, not yet. The realization spurred him on, filling him with a renewed sense of determination.

But as he watched his friends fade from sight, leaving him alone once more, a profound sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave. Surrounded by people, yet utterly alone, Anders could only watch as the world moved on without him, a ghostly observer in a realm of shadows and echoes.

To be continued...

[omgkalyppso]

Hi i've been insomnia scrolling thru étoile's tag reading as much as i can about them & i LOVE paladin characters, and the devotion => oathbreaker pipeline in particular is sooooo tasty (my first tav had that trajectory), so i was wondering if you could share more about that aspect of their character (sorry if you have somewhere else and i just haven't found it yet)

You're so very kind, thank you! (:

I have a post about what I allowed to cause their Oathbreaking in-game.

But I'm happy to elaborate! (Me @ me: That's not necessary—)

I also have a few scattered posts about the following details that I'm happy to compile in one place.

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The [temporary camp character] I'm referring to in that linked Oathbreaking post is Arabella, and she asked if we'd found her parents. And I was like, okay let me not have this conversation covered in blood— But there was no way to back out of that conversation "neutrally," I guess, the best option being "I haven't found them yet. (lie)" And the Oathbreaker Spirit saying "Something in you has broken" for that was so annoying, but someone told me that it completely explained why the stereotype of classic d&d Paladins was Like That and why Xenk's characterization in D&D Honor Among Thieves was the way that it was.

For Xenk specifically, his inability to make exceptions to upholding goodness paired with his way of speaking ("Just because that sentence is symmetrical doesn't make it not nonsense.") is entirely constructed to avoid Oathbreaking = losing his god's favour, losing his abilities, and breaking his code of honour. Perhaps if Étoile had been able to tell Arabella, "That which can be found must first be lost." Then they would have avoided lying / Oathbreaking; or maybe they should have just been honest and ignored the blood.

.

Their mother, Wylla, being a Paladin in Tamriel (Skyrim, ESO) meant she had entirely different constraints on her morality (none). I think this means that her Oath in the Forgotten Realms was almost so vague as to be meaningless. Let me come up with an Oath to satisfy myself and move on from this point:

Oath of Kinship

Allegiance Above All. Defend those who would call you ally. Never turn against your kin.

Mercy. Offer patience and forgiveness to enemies that change their hearts.

Rivalry. Challenge peers and adversaries with pride and prowess. Flaunt wisdom and ability.

Honor Your Community. Strive to support your friends and respect the boundaries of your neighbours.

Easy enough for Wylla to reason out that anyone who looks on her with fear as they die hasn't truly changed their heart, and all who seek to injure her family isn't kin.

.

But her Oath is important because it would have been her achievements that initially inspired and motivated Étoile to continue down this path. Her training could have changed to just protecting their home if Étoile had instead pursued something more like being a priest of Auril, or to just protecting themself if Étoile had wanted to leave the mountain for any other life. It was an Oath she kept from her outset as a Paladin, which would have been around 27 years of age, until her death at 66. 39 years.

I think of Zevlor too, and how he might've been a Paladin from a young man. I'll say 23, to his Oathbreaking (whether after leaving his order when Elturel returned from Avernus or after Act 2, depending on your perspective) — I held a poll and found most people think he's 45 years old, I like 64 for Zevlor; that's either 22 years or 41 years in his Oath.

Étoile expected to live in their Oath for centuries. They were setting up a way of life for themself. They only managed from the ages of 100 to 166, but that's 66 years, and longer than either of these other two Paladins, and probably many more besides.

.

Auril, Étoile's forgotten realms deity, has had a surprising number of Chosen in my opinion, and at least two, possibly three, that seem to be concurrent. I would have assumed a god could only have one Chosen at a time!

One of her Chosen was the Neutral Good Bard Artus Cimber, a famous adventurer who held titles such as, Master Historian, Grumog's Bane, and God Slayer.

I think that such a devout and revered member of Auril's faithful was able to maintain both her favour and their alignment had also instilled a hope (or even an expectation) that Étoile would be able to get through their own trials without Oathbreaking / changing too much.

They do love people and strive to protect them, though for others that has meant death. They wouldn't have thought siding with the living of two choices (He Who Was vs Madeline) would have been perceived as the evil action, especially with how they personally felt about Madeline's actions.

They had already been allied with beings that most Paladins would have not tolerated due to stricter definitions of evil, and somehow these actions had been forgivable, but not this.

It made them a little crueller, more willing to express hatred and impatience, to side with evil beings and choices, no longer required to uphold their Oath, only their dignity.

With this in mind:

They were able to support Shadowheart through the loss of her faith and way of life, and eventually to support her in spitting in Shar's eye for the sake of reuniting her with family.

They signed Raphael's pact instantly.

Their greatest fear has always been a loss of autonomy and the Emperor's actions and presence was a direct risk to that, if not an outright flaunting of that power: Étoile remembers their body twisting on its own to find that first illithid parasite. They never used their ~Abilities~, though it can be noted that they did debate the temptations a lot in Act 2, never deciding it was worth the risk. And then knowing the Emperor had witnessed their every intimate moment, and possibly their every private thought, for the past few tendays, was unforgivable.

They liked Lae'zel more than the Emperor. Raphael had been the first entity to uphold part of a promise by giving them the privacy of their own mind for five minutes, and what did Étoile care if the war in the hells shifted in his favour. Getting the Crown of Karsus off the Material Plane sounded like a wonderful fucking idea. Mystra had made no promises to Gale about removing his or the others' illithid parasites and based on Gale's experience with her, Étoile didn't think she would! Karlach wanted to steal the contract, but Étoile thought Raphael would make a better ally than Mystra than he would make an enemy.

Étoile was like half-way through their signature when Raphael added that he wouldn't even use the Crown to dominate people on the Material Plane or whatever the fuck and like ? oh, that's nice.

They would have allowed Astarion to kill his siblings if he'd thought that was best, but they couldn't let him kill the spawn, that was too many. People he didn't know, with just as much capacity for growth as he'd had. Étoile had lived on the outskirts of a village of 400 — not even in the village! — the scope of 7000 was just so many.

While Étoile would never, under any circumstances, risk their mother's life, their relationship to her was far different than Wyll's relationship to his father. They convinced him to get out of his pact; in Étoile's opinion if Ulder truly cared for Wyll then he wouldn't want him to stay indebted to Mizora, and if he didn't then fuck him Wyll deserved better.

Their only real regret that was part of their "base canon" was not offering to go with Karlach to Avernus. I kept hoping Wyll would offer after they added that possibility, but it never happened in Étoile's primary save file. I'd like to play them again sometime, and hopefully then the end of Wyll's quest won't be bugged for them and we can finish the stuff with Ansur. Étoile was afraid, and selfish, and had things they wanted to do / people and causes they were devoted to on the Material Plane, so they didn't offer.

And I say "base canon" because keep the headcanon that a piece of the Mourning Frost / the upgraded Dead of Winter in their personal quest, is able to magically cool Karlach's raging heart and allow her to remain on the Material Plane.

.

Also sharing this post about post-canon Étoile written before the epilogue came out.

.

I think their Devotion never truly leaves them, but they can never return to their Order (which is part of why I never bothered naming it) and can never rise in the ranks. They would also feel they don't deserve the respect of a Paladin, especially ones living in their Oaths, and I feel many others would also feel this way about them. But they killed people before their Oath, during, and after. It's only their conduct that's changed, and not so much that they're unrecognizable from Neutral Good to Neutral Evil, but enough that they feel it, and enough that it terrifies those who relied on their goodness — even Astarion balks at the idea of the pact with Raphael.

.

From my Bad At Biting fic; Étoile x Astarion:

“A single night would suffice [for a vampire to turn someone into a vampire spawn],” Astarion confirmed, whilst Étoile took a deep breath between their teeth. “Death is the requirement.” He winced through his smile, waiting a moment while his gaze danced between their person and their visage. “You let me lead you very close last night.” Despite their recent understanding of their circumstances, Étoile still managed to smile in response. The answer was easy. There was a fellowship in surviving starvation in the north, and a camaraderie in those who ran from the same enemies, who sought comparable freedoms. Étoile’s mother had eaten people, and their own hands were hardly clean — not like their conscience. Denying a vampire a mouthful of blood hardly felt in-line with their upbringing. They knew their Oath, and they knew their code, the path where they met was always going to be difficult, and hard for others to understand. Even vampires, it seemed. “I trusted you would stop,” Étoile said generously, more believable in past-tense than it might have been in the moment.

From my Magic In The Air fic; Étoile x Gan (evil path) (headcanons about the limits of Auril's magic):

“Three years ago,” Étoile explained, “Auril was defeated by a group of adventurers. It’s what put a stop to her Everlasting Rime. When she died, I lost use of Ray of Frost until she was reborn on the following winter solstice.” They closed their hand, tighter than they needed to to dispel the magic. “So there are limits to the distribution of magic,” Étoile concluded. ��Even innate.” Gan’s poise and patience should have felt distancing, they were ever sharp and unabashed in their valuations of their enemies and allies both, but Étoile couldn’t help feeling mollified by her attention. Étoile hoped that Gan would recognize this extension of their trust in baring this vulnerability. “Between our … victory over the grove,” Étoile said, dropping their hand to their side, squaring their posture, “and the following night, I could not use magic that was powered by my oath as a Paladin, not until that was restored by the Oathbreaker Knight, but even then, despite losing my capacity to be her Paladin, I was still Auril’s faithful, and … this spell wasn’t lost to me, as maybe I felt it should have been.” “You’re stricter with yourself than your goddess?” Gan asked, amusement in their tone and an sympathetic tilt in their brow. Étoile scoffed through a smile. “It had just been some time since— Well. I’d been living in Baldur’s Gate and among … people. If I had only been trying to live and learn, maybe I would’ve been different, but with those I grew close to, I was trying to advocate for my own manner of people — and to do that, included bending to laws and morality that are not the providence of my god. It is a relief to know that she would still have me, regardless.”

[viciouslyfilthy]

STARTER FOR @historicallyimmortal 🧭

Anthropology was already a thing that was among some the man's studies, but recently he'd decided to focus more on it...

More specifically, archeology. There were so many relics that could be useful in his experiments, if their whereabouts were still a mystery... why not give it a try on finding them? It's not like he was in a rush, what with the whole deal of being eternally bound to a seasonal spirit and all.

If this man found any kind of pre-historic remains, much less those of a dinosaur, rest assured that he would absolutely attempt to create something with it; not necessarily try to bring it back to life, rather... 'recycling life', so to speak. But unlike the movies, he wouldn't seek monetary gain from it, should it succeed; and he'd put down whatever abomination he created the second it showed any hostility.

Fantasies aside, here he was, in the thickness of the woods, hair tied into a tight ponytail, wearing the typical outfit an archeologic explorer had to for any expedition... with the addition of his trusty crossbow and a generous amout of arrows at his disposal, their sharp tip coated in man-o-war venom. Just a precaution.

With his gaze mainly focused on his compass, he moved forward to the North. Once the woodline cleared a little... he sighed in relief, footsteps coming to a halt as he observed what laid before him, as he had finally found what he was looking for: a village... or so it was, a long time ago. Nature had reclaimed most of it (something his deity, Sün, would've taken great pride in), it gave a sense of nostalgia to the whole place, a nostalgia that didn't belong to the doctor. He went from house to house, one building to another- and he continued like this until nightfall, and even with the darkness, he didn't pause his search.

Though more difficult to see, it was nothing a couple oil lanterns placed around, and a torch to light up the way, couldn't resolve. Except... well, he was expecting to be completely alone. That's why when his torch illuminated a large male figure lying on a bed, half-consumed by nature, dr. Kraus nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd almost dropped the torch- last thing he wanted was to accidentally set the entire village ablaze... but what in the nine circles of Dante's Inferno was this?!

Some kind of giant humanoid statue, right? It had to be... but why leave it inside someone's residence? He carefully approached the still figure. It's body was too detailed to just be a statue- sure, he knew it was possible to sculpt marble statues that had uncanny human resemblance... but this- accompanied by actual coloring on the skin and clothes... either this was some modern statue, or it was a corpse.

But if it was the latter... why hadn't it begun to rot? Why was it just covered in flora? No insects or animals to inspect...?

This wasn't normal.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 7.a

At first I thought this was going to be a Ulysse interlude, then I realized it's Kevin. Blech.

... I'd say it's interesting that the majority of interludes we've gotten have been from the points of view of antagonists, but I think that might just be a reflection of how few true allies the Kennet Trio has

Not much to say about this opening scene, just Kevin being exactly what I expected

By his gospel, the one we came to name Prometheus had peers, and it was not the one who tried to seize the original Fire, but many. All who tried, succeed or fail, were punished. I found my deity nine miles beneath the surface of the earth, thoroughly protected so none might disturb his eternal punishment. Had he succeeded, our campfires might not be wood we’ve set alight, but something else entirely.

oh that's sick as hell. I am now invested in Ulysse

Now he is my god and I am his sole worshiper, his champion.

"Sole worshiper of a god" is a great concept. (This is part of why I'm having such a good time with Pale Lights). I really like the blending of a normally-distant divine relationship with the closeness that comes from being the only one (and often the god taking a great deal of interest in and care of their worshiper's life). Also fun way to play around with faith and power dynamics, depending on how much ability the god retains and how seriously the worshiper takes the divinity aspect.

Other works that have this: Pale Lights, Thief's Covenant, The Thousand Eyes

 "Later, I met your god before you did. He burned me alive both times I ventured down there.  Others had claim over me.  In another lifetime, toward the end, we became friends.”

I also want to read this story

He shared an appreciation for things of value, and if Lawrence wasn’t keeping the company of fellow weirdos from the same families as these kids at this school, he would sometimes invite Kevin.

oh that is 100% manipulation

But over the years, little moments like that had stacked up.  And now… …Now he was a bit afraid of her.

I looked back at the girls' theories about Rae, and they ended up at personification of backlash? But that was just a guess

And it looks like Kevin isn't escaping the karma his eye generates... that could amplify whatever's up with Rae, once it finally explodes

Ted?  What was going on with Ted?  Was Alexander in communication with the man?

I'm not sure either: It could just be an effect of Ted being karmically blessed, and the librarian/school in general offering him what he needs

Clem was as stupid as I’ve ever seen her.  We’re not best friends anymore

oh good, that must be a relief for her

my online following is… it’s better than ever, frankly, but it’s taking more of my time to manage until all the fights and arguments die down.

I hope she's lying about that one

in the center of that table was a recreation of Sargent Hall, complete with mini-figures representing the occupants.

return of this thing! I guess Nicolette got it out from the fire ok

Ted — Kevin — Shellie — Rae Respective to their names were cards and numbers. 3, 7, 13, 19.

The dossier noted that Ted and Clem are around the same level of use, so it makes sense that he's number three. I wonder who is 1? Kevin being rated higher than Shellie seems like a reflection on how useful his eye is at dealing with mundane problems subtly (and how hard she is to control). Not sure what the ranking implies about Rae.

Noose in one corner, connecting to Ted, coin in the other, connecting to Shellie.

once again, same types of object as the awakening ritual. Coin is mostly fortune I think, woven object I'm less sure. Pact awakening ritual had it as dream and fate.

But he could read the notation.  ‘Noone will die at his girlfriend’s hand’.

get fucked!

“Nah, stark resemblance to an old crush,” he said. “Writing on the back says… Laila Throop. Was your old crush a Throop?”

no idea what's up with this, but it has to be important. Laila's been coming up a lot lately (Musette, and Fernanda's interlude). Her family specializes in curses: I could see them coming into contact with Kevin through that.

The works themselves are a trove of detail on people, especially those in the Maritime provinces and the major cities of Canada and the northeastern United States.

oh cool. So Alexander has compiled Ted's notes from other timelines. I wonder how long he's had them? Because this could explain a lot, if he's been able to draw on this knowledge for his plans all along. It would explain how he made those dossiers, for one.

... I wonder if there's anything on Kennet or the Carmine Beast in there. I don't think there'd be anything on the girls, since Ted's loop ended before they got involved, but things have been going on in the town for a while.

Courtesy of Raymond, the prompt is yet unfinished, but each pull from the coda of texts will help it improve.  For the time being it will do its best to list texts that may be relevant.

score one for the digital humanities

Alexander, I think, wanted us to find it because there may be traps here, not in the sense that a blade may jump out of nowhere, I don’t think, but the wrong information in the wrong person’s mind.

I can see Kevin setting off events by trying to preemptively defend himself from Rae, or this pushing him into demanding answers.

This was an arrangement of a court of judges in this region, who saw the danger and reached out to everyone in the area to ensure they had the power to set this into motion. 

oh! My first thought was the council the CB was on, but I looked at the dossiers again, and Ted's from Prince Edward Island, which is pretty far away, so probably not

I am a collector of people.  If you’ll take my help, I’ll point you to certain people.  But the moment you’re free, if it has anything to do with my help, I want your assistance after.

well fuck. I guess that explains why Ted works for Bristow now.

one student named Laila Throop was on the opposing side and had a really strong resemblance to someone from his past that he hated. “Her next.” He tapped her photograph

man Laila can just not catch a break... I wonder if this is what Musette saw?

[dandelion-sugar]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 『Adam x Reader』

Summary: Reader was Adam's first wife before he married Eve.

Warning: Angst, a little fluff, death, deities are really cruel

15,8k

Author's note: Requests for Genshin have not been forgotten! I'm working on it BUT I just finished season one of Record of Ragnarok and needed to write about Adam. I think he deserves more writing about him...he's the best husband and father Earth could have!

"A demoness? A succubus? No! A human whose legends turn her into a fearsome ruler of the underworld! She rules an entire army with an iron fist! Made of the clay of creation, she is made in the image of the gods! N°00000000002 : Lilith!" shouted Heimdall to announce your entrance.

You have been chosen to save humanity. The creation of Adam and Eve. You don't know why Brunhilde trusts you to save the humans. What could she possibly have been thinking in choosing you? Were you the best choice for this? Protecting the beings conceived by your ex-husband and his new wife. Unlike your ex-lover, you refuse to walk around naked. Your body is far too precious to be revealed to the world. You stand in the middle of the arena waiting patiently for Heimdall to finish presenting your opponent.

Your eyes rest on your army led by your only son. The only being you have ever given birth to. The third human born. A slight smile appeared on your lips. Your son resembled his father, and you found that particularly funny. You couldn't help but think that Adam's genes were particularly strong. But the way your son stood proudly at the head of your army...he took that from you. Even if you were to perish in this fight, you know that your army and your son will come through.

Your right hand will be around the shaft of your spear. You hear the mocking laughter of the gods, announcing your crushing defeat. You hear the hesitant whispers of humans about your place among the fighters of humanity. You are known in human legends to be a danger to pregnant women and newborns. To be honest with yourself, you hate this legends. You are a mother, how can humans think that you would harm a woman and her child? Your eyes drop slightly to the floor and your lips pucker into an unpleasant pout. After a few seconds, your face frees itself of all displays of emotion and your hand rises to challenge Heimdall.

"Yes, Lilith?" asks the god who has the role of announcer.

"I will not fight under that name," you announce.

"Huh?" he blurts out in surprise.

"I will not fight under the name of the monster the humans wanted to make me," you reply immediately.

"So...what do you want to be called?"

Lying in a meadow, you enjoy the sun and the soft breeze on your bare skin. Rabbits and foxes quickly surround you to enjoy the comfort with you. Everything is perfect in the Garden of Eden. A shadow covers your face, forcing you to open your eyes to discover the obstacle between you and the sun. It is a pleasant surprise when you discover your husband's welcoming smile, his blonde locks framing his face. Adam sits down beside you, placing his fruit basket between his legs. He pulls out a bunch of grapes and takes one between his long fingers. He then brings the fruit to your lips to let you savour the sweet, pleasant taste of the fruit. A sigh of contentment crosses your lips. Your husband's smile widens as he notices your relaxed state.

"You have grape juice running down your chin, Lilith," Adam informs you.

Your eyelids droop slightly as your eyes express your displeasure. Adam only lets a laugh emit from his throat as he leans forward to lick the grape juice off. Your hand gently but firmly pushes him away. You want him to understand that his gestures of affection will not be tolerated again until he realises his mistake. And you know perfectly well that he has understood what he has done.

"Stop teasing me," you say, a frown appearing on your face.

"I like to see your eyebrows furrow. You look like that kitten that was trying to scare us." replies Adam, running his hand over your hip stroking it in lazy circles, as if to soothe you.

"But unlike that kitten, I can bite," you reply sharply.

"I know you can..." he hums in the hollow of your ear. "Y/N."

This memory was a moment of pure happiness that you experienced in the Garden of Eden before you were forced into exile. This name you chose with Adam was the beginning of your independence from the gods. You had never accepted the principle of being subject to a man and Adam always supported you in this choice. But the gods did not like this and in response you abandoned the name they gave you at your creation. Perhaps this is why Eve was created from Adam's rib? To prevent her from becoming like you.

"Y/N. Call me that," you proudly announce.

The gods of your creation frown but do not protest. They hope that you will perish against one of their own and that your soul will disintegrate in space and time.

Adam had slipped out of the room where he was locked up. When he learned of your presence here, he did not expect you to fight for the humans. The children he had with another woman. He snuck into the bleachers to get a better look at your figure. A sense of nostalgia stirs in his heart as he sees that you haven't changed in all this time. You stand with dignity, your weapon in hand. You are strong and independent, you have become the woman you always dreamed of. A woman you could not have become if you were in his company because...everyone wants his wife to be submissive to him.

Adam does not regret his married life with Eve, he enjoys it too. But he has enjoyed the life he has lived with you. He believes in your victory. He wants you to win. He does not want to witness your complete disappearance from the universe without any chance of reincarnation. Your first separation has already split his heart in two, Adam does not want to experience this intense pain a second time.

You swing your divine spear with one hand, deflecting your opponent's first blow. The strength in this attack was not worthy of a god, was he testing your abilities? Your eyes meet. The victorious and arrogant smile on the god's face already irritates you. He underestimated you because you are a human AND a woman. His leg comes to sweep over yours but you manage to dodge by gaining height. You position your spear, blade towards the ground to pierce his skull. The god quickly dodges in a backward leap, leaving you to land on the ground, puncturing the concrete floor which cracks under the impact.

Your exchange of blows lasts for a while. Or should we say: the god throws blows at you that you deflect with your spear. But suddenly, his paterne changes. The force that the god uses becomes more powerful. His leg comes to meet your stomach. You prevent the blow from reaching your skin by placing your spear between your stomach and his leg. Unfortunately, the attack sends you flying a few metres away. You manage to land with difficulty and before you can regain a stable footing, the god launches himself at you. You are forced to fall to the side in a roll to narrowly dodge the punch. Your cheek begins to bleed.

"Mother!" your distraught son shouts.

"Commander! Get up!" your soldiers shout to encourage you.

You let out a breath, your muscles relax, making your movements more fluid and lively. Your eyes fall on the figure of your opponent. The aura around you changes completely, causing the small smile on the god's face to disappear. Your hands grip the spear and your feet anchor themselves to the ground to give you a good foothold.

"Answer my question before we resume this fight. Why are you fighting for the humans?" the god asks.

"Do I need a reason to fight? The gods have forced me to be submissive and men have clothed me in a veil of monstrous lies. It's like choosing between the plague and cholera," you explain. "But I had to choose and I chose my ex-husband's children.

The humans observing the exchange begin to stir, either out of guilt or because they were moved by your story. Humans get teary-eyed easily, you think. But you can't help but find this side of them very touching. Perhaps it was a good thing that Eve was the Mother of humanity?

"Humans have the will to survive and a strength that allows them to constantly evolve. This is a strength that the gods can never possess," you say with contempt.

Your hatred for the gods is much stronger than your hatred for humans. On your words, the fight resumes. You manage to follow your opponent's movements. Like Adam, you were forged from clay in the image of the gods. You are Adam's equal, you have the same ability as him to copy the techniques you see. Your movements remind the gods of Athena. You had copied the movements of this goddess a long time ago.

Your body and that of your opponent are covered in blood. You are bleeding from the wounds inflicted on you, but you were able to avenge yourself by seriously injuring your opponent as well.

Adam clenches his lips into a thin line, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands but he still believes in your victory. You must win. You can't give him up a second time...you can't.

"They've created a second wife for you," you scream indignantly.

"You're the only one for me," Adam admits in an attempt to calm your nerves. He can't bear to see you cry.

"It's only a matter of time before the gods kick me out of the Garden of Eden! I don't understand their desire to have me submit to male authority! Do goddesses submit to male deities?" you growl in frustration. The anger was so strong that you can't hold back the tears.

"If they chase you away then I'll go with you," Adam announces, interlacing your fingers together.

A soft warmth spreads through your chest as a gasp of surprise passes through your lips. A slight blush marks your cheeks as you look away from your husband. You can't help but enjoy the tender feeling. Adam wraps his muscular arms around you in a soothing embrace. His scent calms your restless nerves.

"Spend the night with me tonight," you whisper.

"We always sleep together," he says, tilting his head to the side, not understanding the meaning of your words.

"Adam..." you gasp shyly. It almost sounded like a soft moan.

His blue eyes widen slightly as the implied request is processed by his brain. A teasing smile spreads across his face as he leans in to your blushing ear to whisper provocative words.

That was the last evening you spent in his company before the gods kidnapped you and threw you away from the Garden of Eden. You never tried to return to that place, you knew it wasn't possible. So you did your best to survive. You were able to thrive and enjoy your newfound independence.

That night Adam gave you a gift, your son: Eurynome. A child identical to his father, who grew up with you as his only role model. He has become an independent young man capable of leading an army. But he remains a child... a child afraid to be alone without the reassuring presence of his mother.

It is impossible to understand the pain of losing a parent when you have not experienced it. No one could understand a tenth of the pain of Eurynome's scream as the god's fist plunges into your chest.

Your eyes crinkle under the sudden fatigue your body feels. Your right hand struggles to hold the spear. The humans weep in despair as the gods celebrate the downfall of Lilith, the woman who did not obey divine orders.

Nausea takes hold of Adam's body. All that blood, your blood spilling on the floor. Will you die? Disappear forever...you don't even know that he witnessed your fight. You will never know that he missed you terribly. You will never know that he wanted to feel your warmth in his arms again and whisper those three words to you.

Your eyes linger on your son's tear-streaked face. A peaceful smile appears on your lips. A fire of determination shines in your eyes. Your hand tightens around the spear and you slice the god's jugular before collapsing to your knees. If you must die...then you will prevent the gods from achieving a victory as well.

Your eyes slowly close and your hearing becomes increasingly blurred. The voices are now just an indistinguishable din.

Adam could only watch as your body and the god's dematerialize into a smoke of green glitter. His legs move towards the battlefield as if trying to retrieve the flakes that represent your soul dissolving into space. But your son's crying snaps him out of his trance. His eyes fall on a miniature version of himself.

Cain and Abel have some characteristics of their father but Eurynome is a carbon copy of Adam and you would have to be blind not to notice. Adam walks over to your son and takes him in his arms, sharing his pain. Adam fully understands the tug of war that Eurynome feels.

That night Adam gave you a gift, your son. Today, this gift will show the world that you existed. That you are not like your legends.

You are an independent woman, a mother and Adam's wife.

"Adam," you call to your husband, who is perched on a tree branch.

"Yes?" he hums, keeping his eyes closed.

"Don't you think I'm strange?" you finally question him. "Do you think I owe you obedience too?

Silence passes between the two of you. A pain assails your heart at this lack of response and you instantly regret having asked him the question. The disappointment was much stronger than you had thought. You look up abruptly when you hear a thud only a few feet away. Adam had just jumped from his branch. His back was to you. He turns towards you, his face devoid of emotion. He encircles your cheeks with his warm palms. His piercing blue eyes almost seem to probe your soul and you struggle to hold his gaze. But your desire to know the answer prevents you from looking away.

"We are husband and wife, I accept you as you are. Don't change for the world, for anyone," Adam says with conviction.

"So...you love me like this?" you ask aloud, wanting to sound confident.

Adam looks at you slightly surprised at this sudden question. He hums softly before leaning in to kiss your forehead. The smile he flashes makes your heart race.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too..." you admit after a few moments.

[kass-storycorner]

*cough* so i really love your work!! i love everything your put out so far however i’m now going to request for angst mwehehrh. Feel free to reject this if you aren’t comfortable!!

archon x albedo but they break up with him because they still haven’t moved on from their past lover that was slaughtered and felt it would be unfair if they stayed with albedo if they still loved someone else? Thankyou!!!

don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

I'm so sorry that it took this long, I have been working a lot the past month and I've not been well mentally soooo yeah, but I'm glad I finally finished it! I was suprised myself at what I wrote, I only had to write an ending for this so ouch haha

thank you so much for your kind words I’m- ahhh I’m so happy that you love what I shared ( ˙꒳​˙ )

I’m so insecure with my writing so it’s reassuring to hear such kind words!

about the request: ooooOOOH I love this!!! And honestly my mind went directly into thousand different directions to make it even MORE angsty ahaha poor Albedo ( ╥ω╥ )

Genre: Angst, Hurt, no comfort, a bit fluff in between but it's more bittersweet

Rating: SFW

Content Warnings: mention of Khaenri`ah, mention of blood

Word count: 1,811 words

Characters: Albedo, gn!dendro Archon reader

Format: Text

Fic is under the cut!

“-and I think it is best to go separate ways from now on.” Ah, how peculiar. What is this strange feeling in Albedo’s chest? It feels like there is no air in his lungs anymore, an unsettling feeling spreading from his stomach through his whole body. Feverously he searched his mind for a reason for your words. Go separate ways? He heard what you said, but at the same time he did not understand the meaning of your words. Albedo stood there in your shared bedroom, stiff as a board his eyes pierced through you, no longer looking at you. It was as if you weren’t there.

“Albedo?”, your head peaked through the door of his office, sending him a smile. He peaked up from the work on his desk, strands of blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “Ah, (Y/N), hello,” curling his lips into a small smile at your sight. You stepped into the office, walking around the table, and leaning on it right beside him. His eyes were fixed on you. “Busy?” you asked as you brushed the strands of hair back behind his ear. A faint blush crept unto his face; you wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for how close you were to him. Clearing his throat he looked back down on the papers in front of him, answering your question. “Umm, well yes. The next expedition to the Dragonspine and my experiments need to be organised, though the formalities of filling out the forms for Jean is nothing that I am interested in.” He heard you chuckle at his words, wondering what was so funny about them. “I wonder”, you began, leaning down to him, so close the tips of your noses nearly were touching, “if is there something here that might interest you more.” “I supposed, there is,” he said and closed the distance between the two of you with a kiss.

“Albedo?”, your concerned voice pulled him out the pleasant memory that crossed his mind. He had been quite for a while now, it worried you. You weren’t sure how he’d take it, you asking to break off your relationship. It had been quite pleasant so far, the last few months with him. There weren’t any quarrels between the two of you nor reasons for the heartbreak Albedo felt right in this moment. You both were always honest to each other, about who and what each of you were. And because of this honesty each of you valued you had to break his heart. “I-“, his voice was hoarse, it had more emotions in it than he liked it to. “I need to ask you this… why?”. He finally looked at you, his cerulean eyes filled with pain. Ah, the dreadful question you knew he would ask, but you hoped he wouldn’t. There was no use in lying to him now, to not share the true reason for why you’re breaking up with him. Though you secretly wished that you could spare him the truth.

You sat under the shadows of a tree, eyes closed and feeling the warm summer breeze on your skin. “Please, don’t move.” At that you opened your eyes, looking at Albedo sitting across of you with his sketchbook and a pencil in his hands, sketching a portrait of you. “You quick with your hands, I doubt my small movements would change anything that you draw,” you said in a teasing tone, earning a raised brow from him, but no comment. There you were, the two of you. Sitting in the shadow, a comfortable silence surrounding the both of you. You watched the way Albedo furrowed his brows, looking up to you and then down to the paper, for him to sigh in frustration and starting a new sketch. “Somethings wrong?”, it has been the fourth piece of paper he rips out of the book and tosses aside. “I seem not to be able to capture your features correctly, something always is a bit off.” “Let me see,” you lean forward trying to grab one of the sketches he tossed away, but Albedo was quicker to snatch them away. “Don’t,” he says, hiding the pieces of paper behind his back. “Oh, come on, Bedo. I wanna see, I can’t look that bad” you joke, moving closer to him hoping to get a peak at his fifth sketch. Before you could even come close to taking a look he closed the sketchbook, denying you access to it. “No matter how often I try to draw you, it never does you justice”, he sighs, pinching the bride of his nose. You were close enough to him now to lean your head on his shoulder. “You know, it is quite the challenge to get the godly features of me right,” taking his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “But I’m sure in all of the centuries I’ve lived through you might be the first one to succeed at it.”

You took a deep breath, dreading the answer you were going to give him. There was no way to sugar coat it and you were sure Albedo wouldn’t want to hear a long winded explanation if it wasn’t needed. Like a bandaid that needs to get ripped off you decided to do it as quickly as possible. “I don’t love you. I’m sorry, Albedo.” At your words Albedos heart was shattering into thousand small pieces. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the tears that were trying to fall from his eyes… still, he had so many questions for you. His mind was racing, but all he could bring out was again the same question as before. “Why?”

“Albedo, please believe me when I say I wish I could. I wish I would love you, the way you deserve it. The way I want to, the way I still love them. You mean a great deal to me, please believe this. The time we spend together was time I enjoyed and that’s why I feel the need to be honest with you now. I hadn’t said anything before because I believed I could open my heart again, open it up for you. However it seems it’s impossible for me and I am so sorry for it. I shouldn’t have led you on like this…”

Blood curling screams were filling the streets of a small city that did not exist anymore. War was always present in Teyvat, there have been the past thousand years without it, but before that? The land was filled with the blood of mortals and god alike, the first ones killing each other in the names of the second ones. The reasons for most of the wars were laughable. One started them out of hurt pride, the other to broaden their territory and a third just out of sheer boredom. Not caring a bit about the humans that were caught in the crossfire of the gods. So when the Archon War began, similar to the ones before but just the scales were so different. There you were, a small deity. The god of the woods as they called you. You never liked the blood shed, it poisoned the earth so that no plant was able to grow. Before you were able to just avoid the wars, this time around you had no choice. And in the middle of this war you met someone astonishing. Until this day you couldn’t say if it was a curse or a blessing that they made their way into your life and your heart. All you know now is just the deep grief that is always there with you since they are gone. In the middle of bloodshed and darkness that the Archon War brought with it you found someone who made you forget the horrors of it, who made the burden of the crown easier when you rose to the position of the Dendro Archon after it - a position you didn't want at first, it falling into your hands by mere coincidence. After that you spend some marvelous years with that one person by your side, but even those who aren't entirely human are mortal, even gods can be killed. With another War that came, they left your side, wanting to protect you, to protect Sumeru. Brutally slaughtered by the hands of an enemy that envied your position, your power. Now all what remains of them is the dry earth. The massive woods of Sumeru turned into deserts, a consequence of your grief. And when the day came for another war, more blood and destruction at Khaenri`ah you decided to leave. To cut all ties with Celestia and give up the seat you never wanted in the first place.

Albedo knew most of this. He knew who you are, he knew of your nature before you made him fall in love with you. You never just told him about your past lover, too much did their loss still hurt and, what you were ashamed of admitting, too much did Albedo resemble them. In the silence of the shared room you finally told him what orginally drew you to him - how much you really wished you were able to love him for himself and while yes, you liked him very much, it was someone else you saw in him when you kissed. Someone else you wished he was. At first you didn't knew it yourself, in the beginning you really believed it was possible for you to find new love... but you still wished most days they were with you. It was time to be honest with him, to speak the truth, no matter how much you hurt him. "Albedo...", you began slowley, your voice drifting to him, but what sounded like a sweet melody just hours before now makes him feel sick. "Don't." he interrupted you. "I thank you for your honesty and for telling me the truth, but I don't need to hear more." With that he left the room, making his way towards his lab on Dragonspine. Not one person in Mondstadt would think of Albedo as a dumb person, everyone says how they are impressed with how smart he his... so why does he feel so stupid right now? He was a fool to believe that he was loveable, that someone saw him for who and what he was, not what they wanted him to be. For now he just wants to be alone again, surround himself with his work and ignore these feelings in his chest. The heartbreak, the betrayel... but also the feeling of relief. Albedo did wonder how much it would've pained you if he ever loses control, but now this is not a concern anymore. And still, as he made his way up Dragonspine he couldn't help the frozen tears coming spilling from his eyes.

[yandere-wishes]

How the Original Villains Act With Their Twisted Wonderland Counterparts Part 2

I’ve had well over twenty requests for a part 2, so here it is. Please enjoy.

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Meeting the two Scarabia boys is an utter nightmare for Jafar! Moreso it's a dream come true....dressed like a nightmare. The poor sand sorcerer didn't even know how he turned from evil genius to exhausted stay at home father overnight. It could have been because he had to save Kalim and Jamil from crashing a flying carpet. Or when he had to get the two young boys to make up after a huge fight. Either way, Jafar has become their -unwilling- illegitimate father.

He's always running around after Kalim trying to make sure he doesn't get himself killed in some way shape or form. At one point Jafar got so fed up that he just baby-proofed all of Scarabia....and still Kalim ended up with a mild concussion and broken rib. Even though the young royal is way more trouble than he's worth, Jafar still deeply cares for him, in a twisted, melodic manner he tries to morphe his relationship with Kalim as what he could have had with the sultan. Sure it's a lot of work, but it's rewarding. Just seeing the white-haired boy smile and wrapped his arms around Jafar's waist is worth more than all the treasures in the cave of wonders.

As for Jamil....well Jafar has high expectations for him. He sees so much raw potential in the boy, a glimmer of what he, himself could have been! It's comical really, how desperately Jafar tries to give Jamil everything that he lacked in life. He's always boosting the younger boy's ego, molding him to believe that he is the best! It's something Jamil never had in his life, someone who tells him that he can -and one day will be- more than just a slave.

Although he tries to mold Jamil in his image, Jafar also does try to keep both boys on friendly terms. He'd hate to see either of them wind up the way he did, lost, and forgotten in a lamp made of his own misery.

The concept of a family has always been an oddity for Hades.

The lord of the dead detests his actual family. Brothers and nephews prancing around in the spotlight, whilst he's left to dwell in the neverending darkness of the underworld. Families are useless, they're nothing more than thrones that prick your finger every time your inches away from plucking the roses of victory. 

Although he'd be lying if he didn't say that there was something...exceptional about the two Shroud brothers. They're bizarrely co-dependent, needing one another to function properly. Without one the other turns into a blundering mess of "ERRORS"  and "CAN NOT PROCESS, PLEASE REBUT AND TRY AGAIN LATER". The words don't really make much sense to Hades, but the intention his clear. They're two halves of a dysfunctional whole. 

It's even more alarming when the two boys -who, the lord of the dead, is starting to notice look a little too much like him- start to open up to him. Letting him stay in their room and permitting him to ramble about his horrible family and "shiny" nephew for hours on end. For the first time since his creation, Hades starts to get the slightest feeling that maybe, just maybe he might be wanted by someone, that someone (or someones) does indeed care about him.

The feeling only starts to spread when Ortho falls into the habit of calling him "Bampás" and wrapping his icy cold metallic arms around his waist. It's not an unpleasant feeling, just a bit shocking and almost to an extent, painful. It brings back rage-filled memories of watching Jercules and his dear big bro hugging, memories of how left out he felt everywhere, of how for almost all eternity he was doomed to be alone.  

However, it's not like he doesn't enjoy the hug, it shows the effort the little boy puts in showing just how much he loves his newly found father. Its teeth rotting sweet and...precious, yeah that's a good word for it.

Idia's more drawn back both physically and emotionally. He's constantly hunched over the glowing cube, watching armored heroes slaughtering each other and oddly attractive girls arguing over some plain, boring looking guy. It's a bit annoying, but Hades is all too familiar with the lack of interest in leaving one's dwelling and interacting with others, so he lets it slid...or rather he used to.

As Idia gets used to Hades' looming presence he starts talking a LOT more, never really stops rambling about some new "game" or "movie". It's all dandy, over the centuries Hades has become an expert in pretending to listen to others, a key talent when associating with the other deities of Olympus. However, when Idia starts trying to get him to use that glowing cube or a smaller version that fits in his hand, Hades starts wishing he'd paid more attention to the young god's endless verbose.  

The chairs in this century are annoyingly uncomfortable and Idia's constant muttering of the word "boomer" isn't helping. Every time Hades presses a wrong key button thing and Idia mutters that irritating word, he half expects the cube to blow up. Plus why must that light coming from the inside be so damn bright, his eyes are starting to peel out of their sockets. 

Ortho's a bit more helpful, explaining in superfluous detail what everything is for. Although each word coming from the boy's mouth just seems like pointless gibberish. 

Hades is starting to think that getting that hunk of moussaka out of his throat was easier than understanding these two. 

Maleficent has a habit of being just a bit too proud of the four Diasomnia boys.

Silver and Sebek are competent in her mind, which in and of its self is a compliment coming from the witch of thrones. They don't trip over themselves, they understand that babies do in fact grow into adults, and most importantly they are willing to die for their master. They'd make perfect henchmen, better than what she had in her time.

Lilia is an ever-present paradox to the mistress of evil. Ever since she found herself being alive once more, things from the past have gained the nasty habit of disappearing almost entirely from her memory. She swears one her stolen wings that she knows Lilia personally from lifetimes ago. But she can never remember where exactly they met or why every time he looks at her, his eyes are filled with a sort of distant sadness. Like an ancient wound that never healed right.

Malleus is special, to say the least. He's her grandson, after all, a reminder that all she did in this world was NOT in vain. His personality is even a carbon copy of her's, distant and secluded yet humble and fierce. He's been able to climb the ranks to fifth strongest mage worldwide, a feat unaccomplished by others in their family.

It's become a rather alleviate pass time to submerge the four ( she's probably older than Lilia)  young man in old tails and fantasies about the ancient times. Tales about how the evil human kings would seek to destroy the fae folk. How some fairies even sided with those pesky humans. Their looks of astonishment (and Lilia's look of satisfaction) soothes the old witch's, rotten heart. It even jolts some memories of a young blond girl, one who would always florrick through the forest by Malificent's side. Beasty was her name, or at least she thinks it was and in some odd prank played by fate she sees Beasty's cheerfulness in all their faces.

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Poseidon´s Passion

Out of all the three realms connected to the earth, the sea was by far the most extensive one. An entire underwater universe lurked beneath the surface, with more diversity in its inhabitants than both heaven and earth. Poseidon was the ruler of that realm, with the responsibility of maintaining the planet itself in balance. Oceanic currents and tectonic movement were crucial for the mortals´ survival. The god of the sea had inherited the realm after the Titanomachy, given to him by the true embodiment of the sea, Oceanus. He and his titan spouse had given birth to many of the phenomena Poseidon had to keep in check.

But the normally boisterous god was unusually quiet, sitting down in his chariot heading back to the cold depths of his kingdom. The words of his brothers resonated within him. Could it really be possible for Typhon to escape? And more importantly, would he be able to protect all the creatures under his rule? Keeping balance was Poseidon´s primary priority, which made the whole situation even more alarming for him. He took the reins tying the hippocampi pulling his chariot and pressured them to move faster. He had to reach the Oceanic Retreat, also known as the sunken city of Atlantis, to consult with the court about his next course of action.

The palace was located in the center of the underwater capital, adorned with bright gems and bright colorful coral. The city was so deep under the sea, it was unreachable by Apollo´s power. But despite the lack of sunlight, luminescent beings shone brightly to light the streets and buildings. Poseidon´s chariot floated over the gates of the palace and parked on one of the numerous sea gardens, which were filled with creatures and coral normally found on superficial reefs. Triton, Poseidon´s heir, and most trusted advisor greeted him from the gates of the palace.

"That bad huh?"

He asked as soon as he caught a glimpse of the god´s grim visage. The muscular deity approached his son carrying his massive trident with ease, the muscles in his arm pulsing with supernatural strength. The strength to make the earth shake and the ocean rise. Both gods rushed inside the palace to his throne room, while Poseidon put Triton up to date. The young deity was eager to learn the ways of Olympus, for when it was his turn to rise to the throne, so he listened carefully every time his father complained about their extended family.

"How fitting of uncle Zeus to find a way to try to compete with all of you. But if what he and Hades said is right, then we have no time to waste."

"It won´t be so easy son. Our job is to keep balance, and granting divinity to a mortal can very much upset the natural equilibrium of the planet. Just remember where we´re standing right now."

The city of Atlantis, once a thriving metropolis of the ancient world, had fallen victim to the whims of a fallen hero´s delirium and a heavenly dispute. After being defeated by the patron city of Poseidon´s niece, the Atlanteans fell into despair. They managed to get the favor of the god of the sea, who granted power beyond belief to their heroic leader. But this human wasn´t meant to rise as a new god, so the rest of Olympus rejected him, and punished the city by sinking it to the depths of the ocean.

While Triton pondered on his father´s worries, they reached the throne room. A glowing golden throne adorned with all kinds of underwater flora and fauna was in the center of the room, surrounded by a half-circle of different chairs more modest, but still ornamental to symbolize the sea´s royalty. Poseidon stood in front of his throne and slammed the enormous trident on the ground, producing an explosive sound that resonated within the entire ocean.

After a couple of seconds, the god of the sea´s call was answered by the most prominent figures in the oceanic realm. A representative for both the Oceanids, sea nymphs and the Potamoi, the rivers of the world, were the first to appear. Poseidon´s spouse Amphitrite also arrived fast and took her place right next to her husband. Polyphemus came next, the representative for the cyclops who were all devoted to the god of the sea. The old man of the sea, Nereus himself, showed up next. His relationship with Poseidon was more like a truce than a hierarchy, but Nereus´ connection to the ocean realm´s mortal creatures, including his daughters, was a good reason to keep him as an ally. The last one to show up was Styx, the embodiment of the river of the same name coursing through Hades´ realm.

As the court of the sea assembled, Triton took his seat on the right of his father and watched as the gigantic god paraded his muscular physique floating across the room.

"As some of you may know, I was summoned by Zeus for an emergency meeting. It seems the original monster is trying to break free from Tartarus. Is that true Styx?"

Automatically all eyes turned to the river´s seat expectantly. After Hades and the chthonic gods, the underworld river was supposed to know all the happenings of the realm.

"I have heard some rumors, but Lord Hades hasn´t told me anything. Things feel pretty normal in the underworld though. I haven´t sensed any fluctuations within my currents, which are pretty sensitive for any changes in the realm."

"That's very strange, but the fates wouldn´t lie. There is no way they would fall victims of a simple rumor."

Answered Poseidon meditating on the river´s answer. Styx was known to be direct and efficient, seeking to form a bridge between the realms so mortal souls reached their resting space safely. It wouldn´t bother to try and deceive the rest of the deities, especially on such a delicate matter. But then, who was lying? Triton raised from his seat and continued talking, trying to explain the situation his father was telling him about a couple of minutes ago.

"It seems the king of the gods has called for a new Champion to be chosen."

"Is that true Poseidon?"

Asked Amphitrite looking at her husband with worry in her eyes. Poseidon´s days of violence ended eons ago, and she was worried a heavenly competition like the trial of the Champion was going to get the worst out of her husband again.

"Zeus commanded each of the twelve Olympians to choose a champion. As you can imagine, I´m very reluctant to do so again."

Answered Poseidon with a serious tone. The last thing he wanted was to put his subjects through another catastrophe, but something smelled fishy in the whole situation. He wasn´t keen on trusting his family, but the odds were too high. He had to assume the worst in order to prepare. Nereus rose from his seat, his long white beard filled with barnacles floating around him, and talked in a raspy voice that sounded like a shipwreck crashing in the bottom of the sea.

"You have to make a choice Poseidon. We cannot risk Typhon getting out, it would mean extinction for our kind. Your newfound love for balance will have to wait until this situation is resolved."

"How dare you tell me how I should act old man. Remember I am the god of the sea, one of the twelve Olympians, and your ruler. I know what is best for my kingdom."

Growled Poseidon angrily, as his trident caused the floor to shake with fury. Nereus smirked slightly, knowing he reached the god´s weakest spot: his authoritarian nature. No matter how he tried to hide it, Poseidon was infatuated by battle and carnage. And he was going to demonstrate to all the sea that the king still had the will of expanding the realm. A Champion of the sea on earth would create the perfect opportunity to take over the terrestrial plane.

"Leave the sentimentalism aside Poseidon. You have to make a choice. Will you risk the present´s balance to secure the future?"

Everyone looked at the silent god of the sea. Poseidon hated Nereus, but he was right. Balance is not worth it if the future is put in doubt. He had made his choice. As hard as it was, he had to gift a mortal again with divinity. Triton stared worriedly at his father. The advisor knew what his king was capable of, and it scared him. But in the end, the risk had to be worth the benefits. He reached to touch his father´s giant shoulder.

"Father…"

Poseidon then raised his trident, as a powerful twisting current propelled him upwards, going through the open roof and heading for the surface. If his brothers wanted a Champion, they were going to have one. For the sake of the ocean, and the balance of the future.

  It was a peculiarly cold day on top of the St. Helena frigate. Ltjg. Gabo Ramirez was making his usual rounds on the top deck, making sure everyone was doing their respective tasks. The young man had joined the navy in hopes of finding some stability in his chaotic life. He had always felt attracted to the sea, its vast expanse offering the peace of mind that a problematic orphaned child needed. Growing up on the coast let him escape very often to meet his secret lover. He got infatuated when he was very young, and his mother was still alive. She took him to the beach every day to collect different treasures like seashells or pieces of broken coral in order to make jewelry out of them. Young Gabo felt proud he was helping support his widowed mother.

His father was a fisherman, but he barely had any memory of him, because he died when Gabo was barely a toddler. His mother told him his fishing ship sank during one of the common hurricanes predating on the beautiful Caribbean coast. But even though the sea had taken one of his progenitors away, Gabo couldn´t help but fall deeper in love with it. As he grew up, money grew tight. His mother tried desperately to provide for her son, so he could go to school and do something with his life. Life pushed her to more desperate means, selling herself so her son could have a future. In the end, things turned out grim for the poor boy.

He still remembered the stormy night when someone knocked on the door of their little apartment. A tall police officer told him the bad news. They found her on a bench close to the harbor. His mother died trying to protect her son. His childhood ended on that instant, and he was thrown down an administrative rabbit hole that turned his life into a living nightmare. He jumped from orphanages to foster homes over and over again. He felt like the world had betrayed him, taking his greatest love away from him. The sweet child turned into a sour teenager, who caused trouble and mischief wherever he went. His only refuge was still the sea. After all that had happened, it was the only place where Gabo felt grounded and alive. After his mother passed away it became his greatest love.

After he miraculously made his way through school, he decided to leave Puerto Rico and enlist in the U.S. navy. He was conscious his life needed to take a turn for the better, so he was mentally prepared for whichever challenge the tough military system was going to throw at him. The problem was, he was not physically ready for them, struggling through the first years of training. A life of chaos had left him with a scrawny underfed body, which was agile enough to get him swiftly out of trouble, but not strong enough to face it.

He remained adamant on his decision, and he endured the painful years of training, swallowing his deep survival instinct of fleeing before he was entirely committed. Gabo was used to swiftly getting out of trouble, thanks to his more cowardly nature. But he studied hard, put his life on track, and was rewarded for it. Now he got to spend a life together with his love, the sea, watching its waves flow into the horizon. A blue paradise extended before him.

Ltjg. Ramirez diverted his gaze from the ocean and went back to realizing his tasks to their full extent. The frigate was on standby close to the arctic sea, between Greenland and Europe, so there wasn´t a lot to do. The wind outside was pretty cold, nothing but dark water and a few small icebergs in the surroundings. He went back into the ship to finish his active shift and get something to eat in the cafeteria.

"Hey, Ramirez! Come here, we´re playing poker. This asshole has been running his mouth about beating you all afternoon!"

Said Lt. March calling him to one of the tables, where some of his crewmates were gathered. The person running his mouth was Lt. Krass. He and March were Ramirez´s superiors, but they had grown to like the mousy kid. His skills in gambling were known on the whole ship and made his crewmates and some of his superiors very interested in testing his skills. Life on the streets had taught him everything he needed to know to be a good gambler, and he had a good poker face to finish his killer combination.

"I can gladly take all your money off of you sir."

Said Ramirez laughing as he sat on the table to play with the cards. Sailors had to enjoy every second of interaction, or else they started suffering some mental issues that came with the constant isolation and lack of new stimuli.

"I´m telling you kid if you didn´t look like a toothpick I would´ve beaten your ass for taking a week´s worth of salary."

Said the much bigger Lt. March in an intimidating way, but just with the right amount of joyfulness to let Gabo know he was joking. He could probably pick the small junior lieutenant and throw him overboard if he felt like it.

"Give him a break March. It´s not his fault you´re a dumb player. Besides, I´ll get that money and will take you to a nice bar with it when we touch land again."

Laughed the equally big Krass punching his mate on the shoulder. In fact, Ramirez was probably the smallest man on board. The 24-year-old barely made the height cut on the recruiting process, and although he had gained some muscle mass from the rigorous training, it wasn´t enough to get close to his crewmate´s giant sizes. But his appearance was what caused his crewmates and superiors to gain a certain fondness for the young recruit. He was the runt of the litter.

After a while of laughing at Krass´s dumbfound expression as Ramirez managed to beat him and take all his money as well, the boys called off the night and everyone was in their chambers by curfew. Ramirez laid on his bed feeling the soft movement of the waves rocking his bed, enjoying the sensation. He thought about his mother and the beach in his childhood, as his memories carried him to deep sleep, completely ignorant of the approaching menace on the cold waters of the ocean.

 All sailors woke up at five in the morning, swiftly getting out of bed and lining up to clean themselves. Gabo woke up agitated. He had a strange feeling, but he couldn´t exactly distinguish what was going on. He also had strange dreams that night, about a giant black whale stalking the tumbling frigate, whilst he watched powerlessly from the deck of the ship.

"Not a very good night kid? It must be that guilty conscience for stealing from your favorite superior."

Said Lt. March, who was directly in line in front of him. Ramirez managed to get a nervous laugh out.

"It´s nothing, sir. Just a bad dream."

March looked at him with concern. He really cared for the well being of his subordinates, and he was worried being on the sea for so long was starting to take its toll on the novice sailor. He knew the young junior lieutenant was very passionate about his work, but he was still inexperienced to recognize the effects of long-term isolation.

"Listen Ramirez. I´m your superior, but we´re a team. There´s not a lot to do today, so why don't you take it easy just for a day."

The young recruit smiled broadly at the big man in front of him.

"Thanks, sir, but I can handle work. I know what I signed up for."

Lt. March smiled back, impressed at the discipline of his subordinate. This kid was going to go far he thought, as both made their way into the small shower cabin. While they were undressing, Krass approached March and whispered something to him quietly. Ramirez couldn´t hear a word, but judging by March´s expression it wasn´t good news. Krass then left the bathroom, and March turned around to face Ramirez. His big chest was inches away from Gabo´s face, and his lower part was tightly covered by a small towel.

It wasn´t a secret Ramirez was into both men and women. All his crewmates respected his orientation and felt comfortable around him. So much they didn´t mind parading themselves naked from time to time, testing the young recruit´s self-control. It was harder in the beginning, but now Gabo was used to it, casually having conversations with his fellow naked sailors. He still enjoyed the show, only silently and respectfully. He has had few sexual experiences in the past, but nothing to boast about. Still, his crew was untouchable for him, the comradery far outweighing the lust.

March was another story though. The man sported an impressive physique build through years and years of discipline and hard training. His chest was very prominent, followed by a big muscular gut that was still a couple of inches behind. Powerful arms capable of pulling even the heaviest anchor hung to his side, and tree trunk legs supported the almost 300 pounds man. He was also a good head taller than Ramirez, making the younger sailor a dwarf in comparison. Even though Ramirez tried his best, he couldn´t help but feel a certain level of attraction for the muscular man. After gawking at his superior´s body for enough time, Gabo looked up to hear what he was about to say.

"It seems there is a storm heading our way. It´s gonna be a full day of work after all Ramirez. You´ll get your chance to shine."

Ltjg. Ramirez never faced an open sea storm on his few months on board, so he didn´t know what to expect. A feeling in his gut was telling him to pretend he was sick to stay under the deck, but Gabo was no coward. He was going to do his work and prove why he was there among those big burly men. He finished showering and looked at himself in the mirror.

His dark brown hair was neatly cut in a conscription cut, perfectly square and short. His young face had a scar on his chin product of a street brawl a couple of years ago, but his features still retained the innocent look that came with youth. His beautiful light brown skin was free of any blemishes. His smooth body had slight muscle definition, but more because of little body fat than actual lean mass. He quickly glanced inside the towel to look at his manhood. He couldn´t be disappointed because there were smaller dicks around, but he was nowhere near to someone endowed. He was more like on the average to the low part of the scale. He was feeling good and confident about himself today. Gabo quickly put on his uniform and rushed outside to start his tasks for the day.

He headed up the deck to quickly brush the floors, check the analog temperature measurements and check that the lifeboats were in a good state. People quickly mobilized after news of the storm spread around. The captain made a formal announcement during lunch, telling the crew they should brace for the storm in the early hours of the night. No one seemed to be too scared about it, making their usual jokes and talking loudly lie every day. Still, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was starting to bother Ramirez. He had a bad feeling about today. And as a kid from the street, Gabo knew trusting his feelings was crucial for survival. The nerves were causing him to barely touch his food.

Lt. March noticed the kid staring quietly at his tray. It was unusual for the lively Latin kid to go dead silent, so he approached and sat down next to him.

"Don´t worry kid, it´s just a storm. Occupational hazards. It will be gone sooner than you think."

Even though Ramirez loved the sea, storms were always a cause of anxiety for him. He was reminded that a storm killed his father. And worse of all, a storm was raging the night he found out about his mother. Storms were a bad omen for him. He turned around to face the rugged, but the concerned face of his superior.

"I trust you, sir. It´s just I have a bad history with storms."

"I assure you kid, it´s gonna be a better night than one with you taking all my money."

The light-hearted joke made both men laugh, as the tense aura around Gabo dissipated. He trusted his lieutenant. He saw in him the father figure he never had. They finished eating their meal and dispersed around the ship to finish the preparations for the bad forecast. When the sun started setting down is when the dark clouds started gathering over the frigate. Strong winds pushed everything exposed to the surface, and increasingly agitated waves crashed against the ship, making the most remote corners of the shell creak under the water´s pressure. Ramirez finished his tasks on deck and looked to the horizon for the last time of the day. An ominous dark mass was approaching the ship. Little droplets started falling from the sky. They were the last preface of what was about to come. The junior lieutenant went back under deck quickly as the slow rain turned into a tempestuous downpour.

He found his crewmates in the cafeteria as usual, but there were no games this time. Everyone was eating quietly, expectant of the first order barked through the loudspeakers. March wasn´t there, nor Krass. Ramirez assumed that command was having a meeting about the current situation. He sat down on a corner with his tray, unable to take a bite. All his instincts were telling him to run, to get out of there swiftly, so he could survive. Ramirez was fighting his innate fleeing nature. He kept reassuring himself why he got enlisted, why he was doing everything he was told to. He wanted stability, he craved it. But a part of him didn´t want to leave his past self behind. It was what kept him alive for so long after all. But he couldn´t go back to fleeing from his problem. And most important of all he couldn´t let his crew know he was so scared. Bravery in the face of adversity was a virtue after all. This little sacrifice was for his future self, and no one else.

The sailors left the cafeteria quietly. One by one they retired to their chambers. Ramirez followed his crewmates and was able to go to bed early as he didn´t have any guard shift that night. He zoned out for a while, unable to reach deep sleep. After a few hours, around midnight, the alarm made him jump out of bed and get dressed. He got out of his chambers to see all his crewmates heading for the upper doors. The hallway was lit red, and a reverberating sound echoed through the passages of the frigate. Ramirez tried his best not to fall due to what he assumed was disorientation until the entire crew including him were thrown to the side. He wasn´t dizzy, it was the waves crashing against the ship that caused it to rock back and forth intensively.

When he made it to the upper deck, his fellow sailors were all running to their stations. Many went to prepare the lifeboats, while others reinforced the previously tied up materials so the storm couldn´t blow them again. Ramirez went to his emergency station next to the edge to secure the supplies he was supposed to. The sky was completely painted black, like the furious sea bellow him. Rain poured down intensively, and an icy wind blew with all force against the ship and its crew. Ramirez was freezing, his frail body more exposed thanks to its lack of body mass, and the tempestuous currents kept throwing him around like a little leaf during an autumn breeze.

A big wave crashed against the frigate, making the vessel lean completely to the opposite side. One of the crates on the opposite side of Ramirez got untied and came sliding fast towards the terrified recruit, who was holding on to the rails on the edge for his life. He turned around just on time to see the giant box charging against him, and closed his eyes preparing for the inevitable. He immediately heard his name echo in the distance and felt a powerful pair of hands push him from the back out of the crate´s trajectory. Ramirez looked back just in time to see his protector Lt. March flies off the board into the raging waters below.

"Lt. March!"

Screamed the tearful junior lieutenant. His fear was completely erased in an instant, triggering his quick reaction speed. He grabbed a safety rope next to him and without thinking he threw himself into the mouth of the beast. The black waters of the sea swallowed him whole. The only thing he felt was a bone-chilling sensation taking over his entire body, as he swam in the direction of his superior.

"Kid what are you doing here?! You crazy son of a bitch!"

Said March in a mixture of awe, anger, and gratefulness.

"It´s my duty to protect my crew lieutenant! Quick, grab the rope!"

He handed over the rope to the more experienced March, who started tying a strong knot so the crew could pull them out. Their brief moment of relief ended in an instant, as another giant wave stroke from their side this time, separating the young Ramirez from his lieutenant. The crew started pulling the rope, just to get only March back on board. The big man immediately perched on the edge and frantically searched with his eyes for the young subordinate.

"Ramirez! Ramirez!"

But only darkness remained, with no sight of the young recruit. Meanwhile, Ramirez struggled to swim against a powerful current. He considered himself a good swimmer, having grown close to the water. But no matter how hard he kicked and flailed, the underwater stream kept pulling him downwards. The cold was starting to numb his senses, as he let out a last bubble of breath and his unconscious body was dragged into the infinite abyss.

 Ramirez then woke up surrounded by complete darkness. He was laying on a rocky wet floor, dripping wet and feeling breathless. He coughed a couple of times, expelling a good amount of water out of his lungs. He stood up, but couldn't see anything around him. There was no breeze, no sound, absolutely nothing. He was about to take a step when a strong voice made him freeze in his tracks.

"Lt. Ramirez. I´ve been looking for someone like you."

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Those questions don´t matter anymore child. You´re under my protection, that´s all that matters."

He then heard a resounding metallic sound against the rocky floor and was completely shocked by what he saw. The trident of the god of the sea emitted a powerful glow, which then seeped into the cracks on the bedrock bellow to illuminate Ramirez´s surroundings. He was inside a big air compartment under what it seemed to be the ocean, and in front of him was an extremely muscular man holding a giant trident. Poseidon then approached the young lieutenant, holding up his chin with his strong hand.

"You will do just fine. Your potential is unmeasurable, and you know the meaning of suffering and the price of balance. A noble soul like you will be of great use to me and my realm."

"I have to get back to my ship sir. Please help me, my crew is in danger."

Said Ramirez nervously while he scanned the god in front of him with his eyes. The prominent chest was probably as wide as Ramirez holding both of his arms to his sides, with strong protruding abdominal muscles supporting it. He had the biggest arms he had ever seen, even among the famous bodybuilders he always liked to watch on the internet. His lower body was even more powerful. He was only wearing the lower part of a short white robe, with gold accessories adorning his wrists and belt. Two penetrating blue eyes glowed like the deepest of oceans, set as the highlight of a rugged but beautiful face. The cherry on top was a luscious chestnut-colored beard falling right on top of his upper chest. Poseidon noticed the way this kid was looking at him and smiled broadly. He liked his ego stroked like all the gods.

"The ship was spared. But that passion is what I´m looking for. A loving protector, who is strong enough to crush anything on his way."

He pointed his trident towards the young lieutenant and smiled.

"Meet me on the base of Mount Olympus in Greece by the next full moon. I will grant you the true love of my kingdom, in exchange for your loyalty and strength. I´m counting on you."

A blue light came out of the trident, completely enveloping Ramirez. The cold sensation was gone, together with the exhaustion he felt before regaining consciousness. When the light faded, Poseidon was gone. The air bubble around him started popping, letting water in again. Ramirez was quickly swallowed by the ocean, having only time to briefly hold his breath. Once he could not hold it any longer, he coughed only to find out he was able to breathe normally underwater. He also thought about how he practically was immune to the pressure of the sea above him, not feeling any strain on his body.

He took off his uniform so he could swim better, leaving him only wearing the pair of black boxer shorts he had on, and started exploring his surroundings. The light the trident had infused on the ground remained there and formed a path leading the young sailor forward into the darkness. After swimming for a while, he found the strangest creature he had ever seen. A beautiful horse with the tail of a fish was waiting at the end of the illuminated road. The animal looked at Ramirez, and he immediately knew what he had to do. He floated towards the hippocampus, and rode on its back, grabbing its neck as the animal swiftly swam towards the surface.

He must have been pretty deep thought Ramirez because it took a long time until he saw the weak rays of sunlight replace the absolute darkness he was in before. He could feel the water caressing his body, but it opposed little resistance to the fast creature and the young sailor on top. It also wasn´t cold like before, but getting warmer the more the sea horse carried him through the vastness of the ocean. He was fascinated by its massive expanse and could feel its sheer power pulsating through the water.

They passed all kinds of sea creatures like schools of fishes, dolphins and even a few whales. Ramirez´s connection with the sea grew stronger, together with his love for it. He was so enthralled by the fascinating view in front of him that he missed the sensation the stronger current was causing on his body. The swirling water quickly surrounded him, tying him to the back of the hippocampus and constraining his limbs. Ramirez felt a dull pain product of the waters slowly pulling his limbs and spine further away from each other, rapidly adding inches to his height until the formerly short sailor reached a towering 7 feet height. The pulling didn´t stop there though, as each bone grew to form the canvas for the muscle that was coming in next.

The warm water caressed and massaged each individual muscle, transferring the titanic strength of the ocean to them. The legs holding on to the hippocampus started growing first. It looked like water was being pumped directly into his skin. Quadriceps strong enough to crush rocks between them formed on his upper legs, with edges carving themselves out of the gigantic muscles. His calves were pulled apart and rearranged by the current until two diamond-shaped calves replaced the former toothpick lower legs. His feet grew even bigger for a man his size, necessary for the swift propulsion underwater. The growth moved to his butt cheeks, the sensation finally making Ramirez aware of what was happening to him. He felt a strong cramp in his ass, as both glutei raised further and further from the back of the sea horse. His underwear strained to the maximum under the pressure of the new watermelon-sized ass cheeks.

Ramirez watched his lower body turn into the one of a card-carrying professional bodybuilder. The sensations invading his body were too intense for him to remain calm. He felt incredible awe for the creatures that were crossing through his sight. He felt the warm and pleasurable caress of the water on his body. He felt the strong rocking of the hippocampus´ swimming. And he felt a crushing pain as the pressure in the water reformed his body. He let go of the creature to grab his stomach in pain. He felt like the water was suctioning each individual brick in his abdomen out, and he was quickly left with a powerful eight pack cut into his midsection. His Adonis belt protruded out of his sides, and his serratus muscles carved themselves so deep it looked like the man had developed gills.

Ramirez then felt the current push him from the back of the sea horse, and the sailor fell to the back watching the creature swim away from him. He immediately began swimming trying to reach it, but his newly developed lower body still moved clumsily lacking the coordination needed to move such a heavy mass. Ramirez focused all of his strength on reaching the hippocampus when suddenly a strong water current propelled him forward and he was able to reach the creature. He then realized he was practically flying underwater, enjoying the freedom of moving like a torpedo through the ocean. He swam graciously together with the hippocampus, both dancing synchronized to the rhythm of the waters.

Small whirlpools formed around his brown nipples, sending waves of pleasure through the man and increasing their size to fit into the new gigantic chest that was about to come. His pectoral muscles squared on the lower end, and then pushed further out inflating like two water mattresses. The water was putting so much pressure on his upper body the sailor felt his bones were going to get crushed. Ramirez was left with a herculean chest powerful enough to fight the roaring waves of a tsunami. His shoulders were next, as each deltoid inflated bigger than cannonballs with enough strength to lift an anchor above his head.

He then felt the current pull his arms so hard he thought they were going to be ripped apart. The pressure in his muscles made him wince in pain, while his triceps dripped and grew like marlin´s dorsal fin, pushing the former noodles to the sides of his body, and his biceps inflated like water balloons about to pop due to their sheer size. Massive sinews formed on his upper arms, and his hands grew massively muscular, wide enough to push large amounts of water on a single stroke.

He examined both of his new arms when a cramp in his back made him bend forward and scream in pain. He felt the water vibrating on his spine, spreading the sensation to every muscle like a flare. The upper back started extending and rounding up like a turtle shell, and the lats on each side protruded so far, he looked more like a giant T instead of a V. His back was by far the strongest muscle on his body, designed to propel the new man through the chaotic waters with ease.

The current then swirled around his neck, starting to choke him. The traps raised to connect to his ears and complete the growth of the monstrous back. He could hear his grumble grow lower as his neck expanded with muscle, leaving his head looking like a tiny pin on a godly body. The pain was overwhelming the young sailor. He opened his mouth to let out a painful scream when suddenly water flowed into his body with intensity. Veins started popping out of his limbs, improving the oxygen saturation, and therefore endurance for the giant.

Large veins popped on his lower abdomen, and then he felt an excruciating pressure pushing behind his manhood. His penis then started inflating, far surpassing the limits of the already strained underpants, which were ripped off by the strong currents. His newly improved appendage kept growing and pulsing so much, Ramirez thought it was going to explode. It stopped growing at almost a foot in length, and a jaw-breaking girth. It looked like a glass bottle that was hanging from his legs. His balls were next, inflating to an equine size and falling heavy between his monstrous legs.

Male hormones combined with divine power started flowing through his body, boosted by the invading water current inside of him. He felt a cracking pressure on his head, which grew proportional to the new body size. His angular face grew more masculine, his jaw broadening into a thick square, and his brow pushing further over his eyes giving him a menacing look. His nose then cracked and widened, while his lips plumped a bit more. His already short dark brown hair retreated into his scalp, leaving him with a short buzz cut. The amount of testosterone in his body was so high, his hairline receded a little bit. His face was then invaded by a permanent shadow with the potential of growing a thick beard. The rest of his body sucked in his body hair, leaving his smooth. His beautiful brown skin darkened a bit more. His pores then started producing a small amount of oil, that gave him a shiny look and helped him oppose little resistance to the forces of the sea, making underwater travel far easier.

The current then stopped forcing its way into his body and released his limbs from their invisible shackles. Ramirez started touching his body incredulously, incapable of dimensioning the change he just went through. He felt the raw power of the sea pulse within him. He touched his face and felt his young skin under his fingers. His scar was gone too. The sight of the new man might have been bizarre, due to him still looking young despite his overwhelming masculinity. Ramirez was so distracted by his new body, that he missed the waters getting slowly more superficial and the hippocampus turning around and leaving back into the abyss.

The sailor propelled himself further into the shallowing waters when he was suddenly greeted by the figure of a beautiful young man sitting on an underwater rock. He couldn´t be older than the junior lieutenant, although his presence and demeanor felt older than civilization itself. His long hair flowed along with the current, glistening with silver light. He had the carved body of an Olympic swimmer, with defined and strong limbs made to love underwater and a very wide back developed from physical activity in the sea. He was also completely smooth, the only hair on his body remaining on his head, eyebrows, and long eyelashes. He beamed a white smile as radiant as the sun at the stranger.

Ramirez approached the young Adonis with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Even though his sexual experience was limited, he was very familiar with the feelings of lust invading his body. Only this time, they were overwhelmingly strong, almost clouding his entire conscience. The man got up from the rock and touched Gabo´s muscular chest.

"Father was right, you turned out better than expected."

He had a melodious hypnotic voice almost too beautiful to be coming out of a hunk like him. Ramirez looked down at the man caressing his body. His knees shook nervously, while he let himself be seduced by the apparition before him. But something in his mind suddenly snapped. He felt the pressure from before again, only this time inside his thoughts as if the water was rinsing the old cowardly nature of the sailor. For some reason, the situation didn´t feel right. He was the one supposed to be doing the seduction, not the other way around.

He took the young man from his legs and pulled him close to his body raising him to his same height. He then proceeded to passionately make out with the stud, both their tongues dancing in each other's mouth. Ramirez felt like sea spume was filling his head, making it harder and harder to focus. He started losing his grip on reality. Like waves carving and molding the strong rocks underneath, the magical power carved out a new man out of the young sailor. More and more dominance asserted itself into his persona, replacing the old more submissive nature. His body language was a dead giveaway of what was happening in his mind.

The sea hunk noticed how his lover´s kiss started to grow more aggressive, invading his mouth with a strong tongue. His big hands started squeezing the young man´s ass, ways of pleasuring a person during sex being engraved in his memory. Years of experience pushed their way into the new man, his face growing more rugged with lines of age and his body gaining more thickness that comes with years of labor. His giant manhood was already grown at full mast, stroking the cheeks of his prey like a sea serpent just before attacking and spreading his self-produced oil on his skin. The young man then guided the hard rod to the entrance of his body, pushing down ever so slightly to get the head in.

The hunk had been with many lovers before, but this was still considered to be a very big phallus. He carefully slid down in order to accommodate the muscular man´s size inside of him. Ramirez kept fighting the tide inside his head. He was scared of changing, of letting go of who he was. A part of him still wanted to flee and pretend none of this had happened. But remembering his hometown beach stopped his train of thought. He remembered the beautiful waters shining in the sunlight, of all the creatures dependent on them, from little crabs on the beach to the big metropolis of the world. The ocean´s ecosystem was the most important one in the world, and it had to be protected. The love he felt for the sea turned into a massive tidal wave inside of him that finally broke down all his mental barriers and completely dragged his old personality out of existence. He didn´t have to flee anymore, he possessed the strength to break the earth and part the ocean. He could destroy anything that got in his way of protecting what he loved.

Ltjg. Gabo Ramirez was reborn in the form of Gabriel, the name his mother had originally given him, and the new protector of the sea. The last bits of his personality evaporating like the sea breeze under the scorching sun. His young lover watched in awe as the eyes of the titan started to glow, and a deep blue color washed his former brown irises away. Once his manhood had entered the hunk completely, he started thrusting back and forth with the strength to shake the earth. He was a god among men, and he had the right to be pleased. Still, he liked to share the pleasure with his lovers, and care for them. He liked feeling like the strong protector he was born to be. The young sea hunk smiled broadly knowing the transformation was complete, and let himself be completely dominated and pleased by the titan inside of him.

 The sun was already setting when Gabriel came out of the warm waters. He wasn´t in the frosty northern sea anymore but the warm coasts of southern Greece. He was only wearing the bikini strap the young hunk had given him once they parted ways, along with a kiss and the promise of meeting him again. Gabriel looked at the vast sea before him and smiled. He was going to do whatever it took to protect his new home. He was going to honor his Lord´s will by conquering and crushing anything in his way. He still had a couple of days before the full moon, which should be enough to get to Mount Olympus. He then thought about all the life and all the pleasure he could have on his way. He was going to bless a lot of mortals with his sexual prowess. He took one last deep breath before heading inland, his nostrils filling with the salty smell of the sea breeze along with his own radiating masculine scent, his skin shimmering under the setting sun. The giant then disappeared into the prairie, ready for whatever challenge the world may throw at him.

In the distance sitting next to a cliff was Nereus, watching the newly chosen one walk towards his destiny. He found the Olympians obnoxious, but he had to admit they did a pretty fine handiwork. The new man looked like he jumped out of a perverted fever dream, with enough power to shatter the earth with each step.

"He really does feel like he looks, father."

A joyful voice said on the back. Nereus turned around to see his own son Nerites staring playfully at him. The young god loved to play around but was filled with respect for his father. The beautiful merman smiled broadly at the old man, who gave him an approving nod.

"Well done son. I knew Poseidon needed a little push. I´m glad to see his opus got your sign of approval."

"It´s going to be an interesting time after all. Life is just fun."

Said Nerites enthusiastically as both gods stared into the distance wondering about the Olympian´s intricate rivalries and plots in the sky.

[a-sour-nectarine]

Summary:

Obi-Wan Kenobi barters with a cosmic deity.

Notes:

This is the first time I have ever participated in something like this! CODYWAN WEEK 2021! This is my adaptation of Alternate Prompt 1: Sith, but it actually started out as what I was writing for day three: Lightsaber. It was also supposed to be super angsty, but for once in my life, when the fic got out from under me, it ended up happier than planned!

Enjoy!

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open. Every muscle in his body was screaming, and they clashed in a wailing dissonance with the sirens of warning in his head. He was lying on his stomach, face buried in several layers of dust. After a few moments he heard the snap-hiss of lightsabers crossing, punctuating the chorus of his own body. He jerked his head up and wiped the dust from his eyes.

What his gaze finally landed on was the most terrifying sight he had ever seen.

His Commander, with Obi-Wan's lightsaber in hand, throwing himself at General Grievous. Cody's bucket was no where to be seen, and blood dripped onto his chest plate from somewhere. Obi-Wan tried to force himself upright, but one arm gave out when he tried to put pressure on it.

Kark.

One more glance at the battle told him that Cody was not faring well. He was frantically blocking Grievous's strikes while the droid general laughed. Obi-Wan had to get up and help him. He grit his teeth, and ignored the screaming of his limbs. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling.

Then he noticed the silence.

The sounds clashing lightsabers had stopped.

When he opened his eyes, an entirely new pain ripped through him, forcing him back to his knees. Grievous had one mech hand around Cody's throat, another pushing a blue lightsaber through the commander's stomach. Cody's eyes were wide, and Grievous cackled before deactivating the blue saber and dropping the clone to the ground. The still-lit saber in Cody's hand dropped to the dust with a hiss, and the screaming cacophony of Obi-Wan's body slid into harmony as rage clouded his senses. He ran to his commander and cradled his head with steady hands.

"Sorry, General." Cody coughed and reached out to brush Obi-Wan's cheek. "Shoulda let you give me those lessons."

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead, lips coming away covered in blood. Cody was not going to make it back to base with him. "Nonsense, love, you did admirably."

A noise came from behind him and Grievous laughed. "I'll give you that, clone. You lasted much longer than I expected. Unfortunate." Obi-Wan heard the scraping of metal feet on the stone floor. "Now, Kenobi, do I have your attention?"

The rage gave way to clarity. Everything around him was brought into focus, but he zeroed in on Grievous. He could feel Cody slipping away, but he forbade it. Something whispered to him that he could not stop it, that a life would be taken.

It did not clarify whose life.

He closed his eyes and reached out, smiling when he found exactly what he needed to. "Oh, I'd say you do General. Although, I doubt you'll enjoy it."

Obi-Wan threw an arm behind him and heard the footsteps stop. Grievous was a droid, yes, but still alive, with breath in his lungs. Breath that stopped as Obi-Wan willed it to.

"Wha–"

The outburst was cut short when Obi-Wan snapped his fingers closed. He felt every muscle, every piston, every beat of the displaced heart, and told them to stop. The droid general fell limp. Obi-Wan's arm tingled with the life it held, and he pressed his hand to Cody's stomach, willing it to take a new host.

After a moment's hesitation, he felt it flow into his commander. Cody's heart jumped back to life and he gasped in a breath, his eyelashes fluttering open. "Obi-Wan?" Cody's eyebrows were drawn together and his voice cracked, but he was there.

"Hello, my dear."

Cody frowned and took Obi-Wan's face in shaking hands. "Obi, come back."

Obi-Wan was confused, but didn't let it show. Cody was probably disoriented. He had stopped breathing, people didn't just bounce back from death. "I'm right here."

Cody's face twisted with distress. "No, you aren't. Obi-Wan, please. Please come back." He was begging, and his desperation flowed over them both like a tidal wave. Like a switch, Obi-Wan's senses dulled. The sharpness of before blurred. He gasped as his awareness collapsed in on itself, until he only felt Cody. Cody smiled. "There you are." Then promptly went limp, head lolling back. Obi-Wan frantically felt for a pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found one. He carefully lifted his Commander into a soldier's carry, and with the last dregs of energy, shuffled them both out into the sun. As soon as his feet touched grass, he collapsed, only conscious long enough to keep from falling onto Cody.

That's where they were found, Cody sprawled out on the ground, Obi-Wan curled next to him, covered in blood and dust and both breathing steadily. The only two people who would ever know just what happened to the droid General Grievous.

[hb-writes]

Gestures of Fairness

Summary: Set in 1927 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Thomas Shelby isn’t ticklish, at least that’s what a few decades of Clara’s intel says. Charles and Clara test the theory of his god-like ability to remain stoic in the face of writhing fingers. 

Inspired by this request: I am not sure if you would write this but I thought of something pretty adorable. Clara finding Tommy’s ticklish spot. Ugh. I can just imagine how adorable 🤣🤣🤣

Featuring: Tommy, Charles, and Clara (Shelby sister)

Charles’s breath tickled Clara’s ear and neck, his small hands clasped around her neck as he told her his secrets, warm puffs of air accompanying his confiding words. Their ragged breathing, interspersed with bouts of snickering, had filled the walls of Tommy’s office for only a few minutes, Charlie having chased his aunt there before they both tumbled to the carpets, immersed in a tickling struggle so immersive not even Tommy’s more irritable of glances or throat clearing could bring a stop to it. 

 “But daddy’s not ticklish, Charlie,” Clara offered, her voice a bit hushed though not quite a whisper as she looked into her nephew's mischievous eyes. 

She rested her head back into the carpet, tilting her head to see her brother as her nephew rolled away from where he had landed half on top of her, reclining beside her on his back. 

Tommy glanced their way for only a moment now, acknowledging their presence but offering nothing more now that they'd settled. He was in the middle of something, always was, and despite his throat clearing and glaring, Tommy hadn’t sent them out, so Clara stayed there with her nephew, the two of them lounging on the carpet. 

“Every single person in this family is ticklish,” she continued, reaching under Charles’s chin as he giggled, quickly catching her hand and pushing her away. “But not your dad, as if he’s a god or something, safe from the disparaging attacks that bring mere mortals like you and me to our knees.”

Charles tilted his head back as Clara had done, looking at his father upside down from the carpet.

Charles turned back to his aunt and whispered the words, “But he’s not a god.” 

Clara snorted and observed her brother again, certain Tommy heard them though he no longer seemed to be paying their conversation any mind. 

The boy was right. Thomas Shelby, despite all the pretenses, despite the power and the glares and the titles, was not a god. But, mythical deity or not, Tommy was seemingly impervious to tickles and had not a single weak spot, a feat of seemingly divine providence considering how the rest of them fared in the same situation, and his unaffected guise certainly wasn’t from a lack of a search on the part of the other parties involved. 

Though for many years it was only Finn and Clara receiving tickles, the twins began reciprocating the attack quite early on, their pudgy toddler hands squirming in the same spots the other Shelbys used on them, in the crook of the neck and under the chin, at the sides of the torso, and deep in the underarms or across a sock-clad foot whenever they could gain access to it.

John was the first one Finn and Clara had any genuine luck with, the spot under his chin so sensitive that even their imprecise attacks brought on a bout of genuine laughter, the man entirely compelled to it while the others were simply amused by the babies and their often inexact attempts. 

Then came Ada’s demise, the twins pouncing on her together one morning while she enjoyed a late lie-in. They’d found Ada’s most ticklish spots without delay, just behind her knees, and for a long time, it took a true partnership between Finn and Clara in order to make it happen, both bodies needed to hold Ada’s thrashing body down well enough. 

It was the soles of Arthur’s feet that were his downfall, as well as the very reason why he almost never slipped his shoes off when he was at the family home on Watery Lane, but Clara had caught him twice since he moved out to the country, his sock-clad feet propped on an ottoman as he napped in a chair, starting a ruckus that had everyone but Linda in a fit of giggles, though she’d at least smiled at them, pulling Billy up and out of harm’s way, the harm being the two siblings tousling on the floor as Arthur sought out retribution for his sister's childlike crimes. 

They got Polly once, Finn’s hands grazing at the back of the woman's neck, but she’d threatened the two of them so severely and with such striking detail of what would be coming their way at a second attempt that they never even considered trying it again. 

Even Michael was ticklish, in the very same spot as his mother, actually, and before he was gone to America, Clara never tired of passing a set of cold fingers along the back of her cousin’s neck while she walked behind his desk or when he was focused on a bit of paperwork they were going through together. There was something so delightful about the shriek that came through his lips, well worth the smack that usually accompanied it, a reflexive movement of Michael’s that usually left her hand stinging well beyond the humor of the moment subsided.

Tommy’s weak spot was an enigma though because for several years he had been quite adamant that he wasn’t ticklish at all and quite adept at hiding any sort of response if he was lying. It always had been that way for as long as Clara could remember, even before the war, Tommy being passive and stoic in the face of tickles. Even Polly and Charlie and Arthur couldn’t recall if there was ever a spot where they’d even once been able to get a giggle or the hint of a smile out of him when he was small. 

Clara turned over to her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, watching her nephew as he crossed the room and climbed into his father’s lap, separating Tommy from his papers. 

“Auntie Clara says you’re not ticklish.” 

Tommy smirked, eyebrows raised as he met his sister’s eye from across the room. 

For two children who screamed and thrashed about when they were tickled, it baffled Tommy how often they engaged in the practice amongst themselves or broached the topic with people who could easily have them writhing on the floor within seconds. He supposed Clara and Charles didn’t hate it as much as they sometimes put on, even enjoying it up until a certain point so long as it stopped when requested.

“Your aunt would be correct," Tommy answered, settling back in the chair.

“But everyone’s ticklish, Dad.”

Charles had never met a person who didn’t share the affliction, though his exposure was limited to that of his family and the staff of Arrow House, but Clara hadn’t met a person with immunity to such a thing in her life either, so the sentiment held as far as she was concerned. 

“Not me,” Tommy answered. “Your aunt and uncle have tried unsuccessfully for almost two decades.”

“Can I try?” 

Clara pushed herself off the floor at Tommy’s nod, a bit impressed with the allowance. She’d figured over the years that Charles had a higher probability of getting a yes out of her brother, and she’d used that to her advantage the same way her siblings had once used her, sending Charles off to garner Tommy's permission for something whenever he was sullen rather than asking after things herself, almost certain the boy could get a yes when she’d get a no. 

“Three attempts, my boy, and then you can take your aunt out and keep her out of trouble for me until dinner, eh?” 

Clara rolled her eyes, leaning against the side of Tommy’s desk, just a pace or so away from them. “Why only allow him three if you’re not ticklish?” 

“Because I have business,” Tommy answered, nodding towards the papers scattered across his desk.

“Always with the business," Clara mused. "Always frowning at your paperwork all Sunday afternoon.” 

“That’s why we need to find where he’s ticklish, so he can laugh.” 

Clara snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrow raising just a bit. “Well said, Charlie.” 

Tommy looked about to say something but Charles jabbed his hand into the space beneath Tommy’s chin, the spot most obvious to the boy since it had always worked for him and his Aunt Clara and Uncle John, but Tommy barely responded to the intrusion, his body almost entirely still as Charles continued his assault, the boy’s hand finally dropping with a huff after a second endeavor in the same spot.

Charles then poked his fingers into Tommy’s stomach, another unsuccessful experimentation, a bewildered hum coming from Charles’s lips before the boy reached out again, this time his fingers barely grazing the side of his father’s ribs before Tommy trapped the small hand in his. 

“You’ve already had three.”

Clara narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to them. “You’re cheating, Tommy.” 

“How am I cheating?”

“Because he—”

“I only had two tries!” Charles shouted before Clara could get the words out herself.

“You went twice under the chin and once in the stomach,” Tommy answered in an even tone. "One and two is three."

“That’s not fair!” Charles pouted.

“Life often isn’t. Best to learn that now,” Tommy said as he slid Charles from his lap to the floor. “A good lesson to you both.” 

Clara knew well enough the world wasn’t fair, knew well enough that her brother wasn’t often very fair either, but her young nephew had no need of coming to expect that type of unfairness in life, and certainly not at such a young age. 

“Maybe the world isn’t always fair, but family should be,” Clara said. “You’re cheating your own son, Thomas.”

Clara saw it, she knew she did, a small tremble in Tommy’s cheek when Charles’s fingers grazed his ribs. The rest of him had stayed still, immersed in perfunctory indifference to his son’s pursuit, but Clara saw the twitch. Without the distance, without her being a casual observer, she never would have noticed such a small movement, the well-disciplined facade of her brother almost concealing it.

Tommy wasn't sure which part of her sentence he wanted to go for first. The accusation or the 'Thomas,' but in his deliberation, Clara filled the silence herself.

“And me,” she offered. “You’re ticklish. I saw.” 

Clara stepped in front of her nephew. “He touched you right—”

Tommy grasped her outstretched hand. “Enough.”

Clara pouted as she pulled her hand back. “You’re no fun.”

“I have calls to—”

The twitch was more pronounced when Clara dug her fingers into his side, the hint of a smile there on Tommy’s face as he jolted, some small noise merging a laugh and a throat clearing coming from his lips. But the moment was gone almost as quickly as it had come on because Tommy caught her, his hand firm around her wrist.

Clara recognized the message. To anyone else, it might have read as an adult telling a child they had reached their limit and were edging towards trouble, or as a gangster threatening a subordinate to fall back in line, but grasping the wrist was precisely the same gesture of fairness Clara and Charles adopted between the two of them, an irrefutable request to stop, a removal of consent for a game no longer being enjoyed, and Clara understood that her long-pretending brother was indeed ticklish, but unlike her and Charles and the others, not even a small part of him enjoyed it. 

Clara smiled at her brother though his hand still held her wrist, the tightness of his grasp uncomfortable enough she wasn't eager for it to continue for long. Though a part of Clara was giddy at finally solving over a decade's long riddle and more than a bit entranced by the idea of an encore, she’d not discredit the nearly sacrosanct vow indicated by the gesture she and Charles had developed, and she would not reinforce for the boy that he should expect the world and his family to be cruel and dishonorable at every turn. 

“Alright, Tommy. Peace, then,” Clara offered.

“But—” 

Clara glanced down at her protesting nephew, nodding towards the wrist the boy's father was still holding, Tommy's fingers slipping off Clara's wrist only as she turned to Charles and continued speaking.

“Your dad’s asked us to stop, Charlie boy. He’s got calls to do before he joins us for dinner, eh Tommy?” 

Charles moved around Clara and leaned into Tommy's knee, distracted from his aunt's lesson by the notion of his father joining them for dinner. “Are you joining us, Dad?” 

It seemed fair by Clara’s standards, that her brother should grant them that small concession since he was prematurely stopping their fun, and Tommy stared at his sister for only a short moment before nodding at the boy. “You best go on and let Frances know to set an extra place.” 

Charles sprinted off to find the woman, leaving Clara and Tommy smiling in his wake. 

“Clara, it’d be best for you to—”

“Forget I’ve finally found where you’re ticklish?” she asked, smirking as she stepped back from him. “Of course. Can’t have word getting out Thomas Shelby, OBE is a mere human like the rest of us.”

“I mean it, Clara.” 

Clara rolled her eyes. “I know, Tommy. I’ll keep it to myself.” 

Tommy took a breath, nodding once before he looked back to the papers on his desk. 

“Right, so you’re back to paperwork and calls and frowning, then?” Clara asked.

“If you and my boy are demanding my presence at dinner, then, yes.” 

Clara smiled. She’d leave him to it, and she’d not tell anyone her brother was ticklish, not even Finn as tempting as that was, but she’d not forget. She’d store the information away, kept safe until needed, until Tommy needed a subtle gesture to remind him of what it felt like to be on the receiving end of family not being fair.

-----

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