#but we are only weak if we cling to one side of the coin; when you open up to understanding and instinct beyond the material and start

[melpomenismask]

Mercurials healing rise up!

im an ashlesha asc whose historically struggled with receiving criticism but then during the pandemic i had the most profound spiritual awakening and was able to get better abt it. so with that being said i’d like to stay being unable to receive criticism is a HUGE theme for us ashlesha like it’s almost ridiculous how prevalent it is amongst us omg. someone acc sent in an ask as of why that is - we typically grow up in harsh environments that force us to become highly defensive to perverse ourselves so that’s where we pick up our ‘poisonous ways’.

so the anecdote i want to share is that the first i saw of this on a mass level was on vedic twitter YEARS back. there was massive fighting in the community as ashlesha natives felt targeted after quite frankly having the spotlight on the nak for a while and receiving all sorts of praise and content in the community. like i saw so many twt friendships breakdowns bc of how defensive and sharp ashlesha got on the tl. which felt ridiculous to many in the community at the time (so much so it’s become a kind of meme with us lol) bc every nak eventually got targeted for criticism for a period of time but none of the other naks ever reacted the way ashlesha did (punarvasu i’d say was maybe the closest in terms of extreme defensiveness but still not comparable to ashlesha). in fact i had a fav user at the time and she had 2 out of 3 big 3 placements in ashlesha and i was taken aback abt how personally hurt she got by the criticism; the way she fought with everyone on the tl in the aftermath was concerningly vicious to me and it was to the point that it seemed like self-destructive behavior. and it hurt to see her fall from grace like that.

i feel like that’s another aspect of ashlesha is actually that tendency of getting self destructive in our attempts to perverse ourselves if we feel that the circumstances have gotten really dire for us/attacked. i feel like the one thing ashlesha so desperately seeks is security/feeling of safety and we often find ourselves going great and questionable lengths just to feel like we’re finally safe.

so no im not really mad at the critic. its an observation that keeps cropping up simply. i can’t blame you for what is a pattern. in a way i see this theme as the path for ashlesha. our journey to eventual healing and finally lowering our guns. not everyone is out to hurt us/tear us down lol.

i briefly mentioned this in one of my asks but tysm for letting me know that this is a universal experience 😓the way you explained it, makes a lot of sense.

i wish peace and healing for everybody<33the people who have been abused and those who abuse others. let everybody heal more, hurt less and hurt others less.

[hlekani-666]

Atheist Republic Newletter: I don't know.

There are many, many things about which I know litte, or absolutely nothing at all. I don't see this as a flaw. In life, we have to make choices. Most of us have jobs, families, friends. We have “to do” lists, and commitments that never seem to end, and there are never enough hours in the day. Most times, by day’s end however, I like to think I may be a little less ignorant than I was when the sun first shone over the horizon. Still, there are many more things I don't know, than things I do, and I suspect it shall ever be thus. My awareness of the limits of my knowledge exists as a tool to help me explore those limits. Nothing crowds out learning like certainty.

In contrast, believers seem to require absolutes in their lives. Indeed, three of the most terrifying words to a believer are:

“I don’t know”.

A new paradigm for learning

Times have changed from when I was in school; the way we store and access information now has engendered a new paradigm for learning. The late Sir Terry Pratchett coined the term “extelligence” as a label for all the external sources of information society has available to it.

Until recently, libraries were the best example of extelligence. Packed with a wealth of information to be sure, they were cumbersome in terms of accessibility and had a range limited to those willing to do the work to gain access. For a long time knowledge beyond the level required to navigate our daily lives was viewed alternately as forbidden or evil, or more recently as simply arcane.

Now that we (most of us in what we like to refer to as “The Developed Countries”), have smart phones and other types of portable thinking machines, all connected to each other and to the web, the answer to almost any question is only a GOOGLE away.

Most of our collective “extelligence” now resides in the ether. Now we can all be “smart” without the necessity of carrying around a cornucopia of minutiae in our limited capacity brains. And perhaps that is part of the problem. With access to such a vast wealth of information literally at our fingertips, facts themselves have become secondary to many a pseudo-intellectual position. You can indeed find almost anything on the web, but it's important to remember that most of what you will find has a negative relationship with reality (that’s a polite way of saying it’s garbage.)

The weakness of absolute conviction

One sector traditionally on the ‘anti’ side of any access-to-information debate comprises the “elite” groups which have power over our lives. Governments, Religion, the recently popularized one per cent. People who understand that knowledge is power have a vested interest in maintaining strict controls over its accessibility. No single group however, holds a candle to religion in this category.

Religions have been lying to people for millennia. From the various creation myths, gods and prophets, to dogmatic strictures on behaviour, and to what sort of people are acceptable. Who’s a heathen, and who ain't. You can probably see how the Information Age presents challenges for those who seek to exercise control through ignorance. But have no fear, the armies of various gods are marching across the Internet and back! At the drop of a hat, they will provide you with such a wealth of disinformation and fabrications that - should you actually take heed - will drag you back into the morass of ignorance faster than you can nail a skinny guy to a tree (it’s Easter, I had to throw that in!).

So now we have a war. A bloodless war for the most part, but a war nonetheless. The sides are clearly demarcated: those who represent the status quo and cling to outdated ideas and mythology, arrayed against those of us who imagine a better world; those who salivate in anticipation of THE END with its assumed afterlife, and those of us who understand this life to be all we have. Those who believe themselves to be helpless in the face of an all-knowing, all-seeing god figure, and those of us who realize that most often, a shadow in the dusk is simply that, a shadow.

I was recently involved in yet another mindless debate with a couple of representatives of the anti-intelligence league. They seemed inordinately pleased when I responded to a question concerning the origin of life on Earth, with “I don't know.” This pair of intellectual giants guffawed uncontrollably over my admission of ignorance, “Hee hee!” (literally). They seemed to view my uncertainty as to the origin of life - something I share with anyone who claims to be speaking the truth on the matter - as a victory for their team. Being Creationists, they of course know with absolute unshakeable conviction that life was created by an invisible man who lives in the sky, for the express purpose of adoring and worshipping said invisible man.

How did they acquire such certainty when the best minds on our planet have yet to provide an answer? Why, they read it in their big book of everything that's true, proving conclusively that you don't actually need an Internet connection to access garbage masquerading as truth.

-Andrew McArthur

Atheist Republic Blogger and Newsletter Contributor

REPOSTED HERE:

[fictionadventurer]

I like your post about the Hunger Games and agree with most of it, but I still think the love triangle was unnecessary and people are right to criticize it. Collins could have very easily written Gale as the best friend and Peeta as her main love (based on endgame choices) or vice versa I don't even care since I'm not a big shipper of either. But she did introduce the unnecessary drama that overall did not add much to the plot, and it only took away focus. So I think I understand that crit.

Once upon a time, I might have agreed with you. These are good books, important books, and we don’t need to defile this war epic by shoving in teenage-hormone love-triangle dramatics. Then I reread the series, and I was astonished at how, for the most part, the love story is inextricably intertwined with the action-adventure elements. You can’t take out the love-triangle elements without creating a very different book with a very different message. That love-triangle, far from defiling the war story, elevates it into something better.

It starts almost immediately in the first book. We see how Katniss has a deep friendship with Gale, something that could turn into romance, except that she doesn’t dare to go down that path. There’s no place for marriage, and definitely not for new children, in their broken world. She only has energy for day-to-day survival. And once Katniss goes into the Hunger Games, romance is definitely off the table. She needs to harden her heart and make no human connections with the people around her if she wants to have even the slimmest chance of making it back home to her family. In a lesser book, she’d be right–there’d be no goopy romance to distract us from the hard-bitten survival epic that the Hunger Games is supposed to be.

But then Peeta declares his love for her. Suddenly, she’s part of an epic romance on national television. She wants nothing to do with this strategy–love makes you look weak. (And doesn’t that sound a lot like people who criticize the YA love triangle?) But Haymitch counters that it makes her desirable to the audience, and suddenly the thing that had seemed so burdensome becomes necessary to her survival. She needs to play the game–and once they’re in the arena, she needs to figure out if it is a game to Peeta. Peeta has already shown himself capable of manipulating the emotions of all of Panem–is it possible that he’s manipulating her?

This is the real brilliance of the first book’s romance. It doesn’t distract from the main conflict–it is the main conflict. Like so many other teenage girls, Katniss asks herself, “Does this teenage boy like me?”, but in this case the answer is literally a matter of life and death. If he loves her, she can trust him to help her survive. If he doesn’t, he could kill her at any time.

By the time she finds out that his love is real, she has to fake romantic feelings toward him to draw in sponsors. Now she’s manipulating his emotions to survive, and she can’t hope to untangle what’s real and what’s fake in this manufactured mess of a reality show. But Peeta’s influence has shown her that love isn’t pointless in the Hunger Games–it’s the only way for them to truly fight back. She chooses love for Peeta–whether romantic or not–over her own life, and that’s the only reason that, for the first time in history, two victors manage to beat the Capitol at their own game. Katniss won not by being the best warrior, but by showing love. The love story wasn’t a distraction–it was the solution.

It’s only in Catching Fire that she has to deal with the consequences of that. She was willing to die for Peeta, but she’s not sure she wants to live with him, especially since their relationship started under such unreal circumstances. She’d much rather leave the Games–and Peeta–behind and return to the life she knew before. That life included Gale, and Katniss is, for the first time, willing to consider him as a romantic partner. If her romance with Peeta was fake, is it possible that she could have real romance with her best friend?

This is the point where the love triangle comes into full swing, and I’ll admit this is the book where it’s integrated most clumsily. It seems like Katniss is taking some unnecessary risks in pursuing a relationship with Gale, and the plot sometimes comes to a screeching halt so Katniss can think about her emotions. But even if the plot integration isn’t as smooth as it was in the first book, the thematic relevance of the love triangle is still spot-on. Katniss has to think about what she wants–cling to her old life or dive into this new post-Hunger Games world? Does love have a place in this world at war? And when we think about the question in that way, the sloppy integration of the love story into the main action plot is kind of the point. Katniss may be instigating a war, but she’s still a teenage girl. She still has emotions, but she’s being forced to hide or fake so many of them that she doesn’t know who she is, what she wants, or who she wants to be. How can she discover her identity, hold onto her humanity, in the middle of a war?  

Mockingjay is where we get the answer to those questions. With Peeta imprisoned in the Capitol and the war underway, Katniss is saved from having to make an immediate decision about her romance. She echoes every romance-hating fan’s thoughts when she says:

The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning.

There’s a war going on! There’s no time for love triangles! But it’s only when she’s not being forced to pursue romance with Peeta that she can really evaluate her relationship with Gale–and she’s finding that it’s not as strong as she thought. When she needs advice, she gets it from Prim, not Gale. When she needs someone who understands the trauma of killing, she goes to Finnick or Johanna. Now that Katniss and Gale don’t have the shared bond of having to care for their families–who are kept safe and fed by District 13–they’re finding that they don’t have much else in common. Katniss is mistrustful of Coin, while Gale is part of her inner circle. Katniss kills only when she has to during the war, while Gale treats weapon design as a fun challenge. This exploration of their relationship isn’t a distraction from the main plot. They’re what make the main plot mean something. This is the lens through which Katniss considers her views on violence, on war, on life, on what the point of their fight is. She and Gale literally have arguments about utilitarian principles! It’s only by exploring and then severing this leg of the love triangle that Katniss finds out who she is and what she really believes.

Collins couldn’t explore these issues in the same way if either Gale or Peeta wasn’t presented as a romantic interest. The nature of eros is desire, and the whole point of the Peeta vs. Gale question is Katniss figuring out what she wants out of life. She needs to be drawn to both of them, in the same kind of relationship, if the question and answer are to mean anything. Does Katniss want her old life, with Gale as the most important person, with his anger driving her to fight for survival by any means necessary? Or does she want a new life with Peeta, where they live for something beyond mere survival? Which man, which philosophy, does she want to devote her life to? If Peeta was the love interest and Gale was only the best friend, she could have both in her life. But you can’t resolve the trilogy’s central question by having Katniss compromise. Choosing one side means she can’t choose the other–and the only relationship that requires such an exclusive choice is a love triangle. Far from distracting from the main plot, the love triangle is what elevates it, takes it beyond a war story where the only question is how the characters will survive, and makes it into a story that tells us how the characters are going to live.

[uglyshirtsinc]

AIGHT HERE WE GO BUCKLE UP!! Endermen hybrids Illumina, Purpled, and Ranboo! With a sprinkle of Technodad and Sonboo, a drizzle of Little Brother Purpled and Big Brother Punz, with a side of Illumina and Fruit friendship! Less go! This was meant to be a ramble but literally ended up a fic outline?? Could even be read as a fic if you wanted??? What the hell 6 am me???

Endermen hyrbid are valuable because since they're half human instead of making enderpearls they make eyes of ender, and they respawn like humans do so they're used to farm ender eyes.

Ranboo meets Illumina and Purpled after being kidnapped and separated from his dad at the wee age of eleven meets sixteen year old Illumina and eleven year old Purpled.

He's tossed into a cell with the two of them, Illumina being there to calm the younger two down after being used for the farm. Whenever Illumina is brought back to the cell, he cares for the boys and dotes on them, acting much more worried and clingy that normal. They let him take care of them, knowing that keeping them safe calms him.

They talk about their lives before being taken, Illumina talks about the adventures he and his friend Fruit would go on. The dangerous things they did. He promises the boys to one day show them cool tricks, using the excuse of "the cell is too tiny and someone would get hurt" as to why he can't show them off there, not wanting to tell them the little portions of food he recieves (even less considering he gives most to the boys) has eaten away at his strength.

Purpled talks about his adoptive brother Punz who's just a bit older than Illumina, at age seventeen. How he was a cool mercenary hired to do "super secret" stuff and protect people. He tells them about his trident and tomahawk.

When Ranboo opened up, it gave Illumina his first real sense of hope he's had in a long time. Ran talks about his dad, emperor of the Antarctic Empire and faithful patron of the powerful Blood God. Illumina had heard of the Arctic Empire's hybrid son and after story after story began to believe that Ran really was the prince of the Empire. Ran's father obviously loved him, each story leaving him in tears of either longing or laughter. His father would be searching for them, and he would find them.

Weeks turned to months and nothing changed, until Ran was on the floor screaming in pain and Purpled was hiding in the corner wailing in fear. Illumina could hear cracking, popping, and spotted two hard lumps just next to Ranboo's shoulder blades and realized he wasn't just some Enderman hybrid, but rather a dragon hybrid. When the pain finally subsided and their captors returned to take the two young boys Illumina knew what he had to do.

He didn't know much of Gods and patrons, only what he read while searching the strongholds with Fruit after their latest adventure.

Patrons were messy, being worthy to have one and be a follower was even messier. But within that moment, he didn't care. Thousands of voices in his head was better than having to witness those monsters that held them captive force Ran to cough and gag and wheeze in attempt to get Dragons Breath from the boy. It was worth it to return Purpled to his brother, to see the boys eyes light up the same way they did when Ran said his dad would save them. And for just a moment, Illumina let himself be selfish. It was worth it to get to hold his best friend close, to be strong enough to scale buildings and run from golems they'd messed with. To see the sunrise over a snowy mountain, to show the world he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone imagined.

Cutting his hand on a jagged rock sticking from the walls that he had warned the boys about so often, be used his own blood to draw the symbol. When it glows and the world fades, stands before him a towering man with hair as white as snow, wearing the finest attire fit for a king, dressed in gold with everything he wore.

Wordlessly, a deal is made and as their hands shake Illumina is staring into dark, ruby red eyes sparkling with a beast like excitement. The Blood God speaks and tells him "They have been waiting." And Illumina knows what he means.

When the world returns, his ragged and dirty clothes are replaced by the ones he would wear before the monsters took him. A pouch of emeralds hangs from his belt and a familiar black mask covers his nose and mouth. His strength has returned, but at a cost he has yet to find out.

There's no whispers, no cries, no one yelling in his head. There's no insanity blocking his train of thought. No amnesia. He is Illumina.

He wraps himself with the one thin blanket they were allowed, curling up near the gate to keep himself and his clothes covered.

Purpled is first to return and Illumina places a figer over his lips, signaling Purpled to stay quiet. When Ran returns, it takes Illumina less than thirty seconds to have the monstrous man on the ground unconscious. Ran and Purpled watch in awe as he checks the horrid man for anything of value to them. A ring of keys, a pouch of coin, an iron sword, and a map are all Illumina deems worthy.

While his strength has returned, he's mindful of the boys and their weak bodies. He carries Purpled on his back, the violet eyed boy the smallest out of them all.

It takes hours to escape their prison mostly undetected. When they do, Illumina grabs the first horse he can find that's saddled up and tells the boys to hold on as he rides off.

The map was appreciated beyond comprehension. It doesn't take long to find a town and get the boys proper clothing that will survive the journey to the Arctic. Keeping them close and their heads down they get what they need tools wise and leave before the sun can even set.

It's hard, telling Purpled that he'll have to wait even longer to see his brother, but promises once they return Ranboo home that Punz can come there to take him home. If Illumina must admit, he chooses Technoblade first because once it hits the news of the princes return and Illumina's name is spread, he hopes Fruit will come and find him, even if they have to meet in the middle.

Throughout the terror and pain, they push through. From the nights they got separated, Purpled clinging to Ran and assuring the dragon hybrid Illumina will find them, fighting off zombies when Ran couldn't stand straight to hold a sword. The relief when Illumina scoops them both into his arms and holds then tighter than before.

With hunters hot on their tail they can't afford to stop and it takes four months itself to reach the borders between the Arctic Empire and whatever land they found themselves in.

Ran's wings have grown in, one a dark, scaley black with brilliant green in the folds between each bone. The other is a is white and reminds Illumina of a jellyfish, bits and tassles hanging from the wing giving it a much more fragile, paper thin appearance. Both are incredibly strong, despite their looks, and it's often the intimidation factor the two wings bring that gets them out of sticky situations.

A year has passed since they've been held in captivity, Illumina now seventeen and the boys twelve.

Illumina buys the cheapest tickets to the Empire, having to hold Ran's hand to keep him from teleporting ahead in excitement. He cries multiple times, the feeling of finally being free and so close to home hitting him like a truck. Illumina sees the excitement on Purpleds face, knowing after Ran he gets his family too.

They arrive on the island and immediately Ranboo is dragging them the way to the inner walls. Claiming to know his home like the back of his hand. Passing by a few guards, Purpled asks why they don't just tell the guards they have the prince.

"The guards were the whole reason Ranboo ended up where he was, plus they could try killing us immediately thinking we took Ran. I can't risk putting you two in any more danger." Is the reply he gets.

They teleport to the other side of the walls easily, walking to the other, and teleporting. This repeats for two days till they reach the inner most wall. Techno stands on a platform in the town center, his expression showing no emotion and stance as proper as ever. Just watching him stand so straight makes Illumina's back ache.

Ranboo sobs on the spot and before he can call for his father and rush forward a hand is placed on Illumina's shoulder with a harsh grip.

The guard asks who they are, saying they most definitely are not meant to be there, and within that moment a rage so heavy it hits Illumina like a tidal wave.

A year of torture and pain, months of walking and risking his life to get here and right as he can reach it someone stops him. Illumina barely registers it before the boys jump back screaming and he's pulled his sword out to hit the other man.

He faintly hears cries of "Harvey!" As more people rush towards them. He can only focus on his blade pressing against the man, Harvey's, sword and the deep laughter filling his mind.

"It seems you've finally been broken into." The Blood God thinks aloud.

He yells for Ran to run to his dad who's being ushered of stage, his speech being cut short.

Ran looks between his father who has yet to notice him and then back to Illumina who's risked so much for him. To Purpled, who looks horrified and is trying his hardest to pull back Illumina.

And he chooses them.

Jumping between Illumina and Tapl he unfurls his large wings and yells out with a slightly staticy voice "Stop!"

And it's as if the world has stopped, the Blood God no longer speaking in Illumina's mind, Purpled can sag his shoulders in relief, and all eyes are on them.

He looks into Tapl's heterochromatic eyes and in a voice barely above a whisper says "Stop attacking my family."

Tapl steps back, the other guards step back. All can easily recognize the missing Prince, from the two-toned hair to the sparkling eyes only he possesses.

His name is breathed out and demands attention. Ranboo turns to gaze at his father from across the short distance and it's real.

They meet in the middle and Ran holds his father like a scared child, and Techno allows himself to crumble and cry. He cries for the child thought to be dead, stolen from him by those he trusted. He cries for the year and months he's spent separated from him. They cry together, and tears of pent up pain turn to tears of happiness. His grandfather and uncles appear soon enough, he's wrapped in hugs so tight and a pair of wings so warm he could fall asleep.

Purpled and Illumina and thanked for bringing him back, and all Illumina asks is for them to help them find their homes. A message is sent far and wide of Purpled's reappearance and it takes less than a month for a blonde boy, fresh i to adulthood to come crashing through the castle doors and Purpled to find himself wrapped in his big brothers arms once more.

Punz sobs so loudly it's heard from across the palace, clinging to his baby brother and cradling him like a baby.

You'd think after the royal family just about got on their knees to thank him, Illumina would be used to it and stop being so embarrassed, but something about seeing Purpled light up like he's dreamed of seeing the boy do and finally getting to see with his own two eyes the brother he talked about makes him very thankful for the mask there to hide his flushed cheeks.

Ranboo and Purpled aren't ready to let go, so Punz stays with his brother in the castle for awhile.

Illumina is asked thousands and thousands of questions, where they were taken, how they escaped, etcetera.

He takes Techno aside and confesses the deal he made in return for their freedom. He confesses he has yet to know what he's given up to the Patron and his fears. He confesses that He couldn't bare the thought of young Purpled loosing his hope and being raised in a place like that, Ranboo being hurt worse and worse for bottles of acidic breath.

He apologizes for being selfish and wanting to find his family.

And for the first time in forever, he's being held in the safety of a warm hug. He gets to cry and be comforted, he gets to be weak.

It takes longer, but one day new face appears and after four years he breaths in that ridiculously sweet scent of green apples and sweet fruits that Fruit Berries always had. He hugs his friend once again.

They show the boys their tricks, as Illumina promised. They watch them do stupidly dangerous things that make Phil, Techno, and Wilbur flinch and jump to catch the two seventeen year olds, always groaning in faux annoyance watching them land safely, Phil claiming this'll give him a heart attack and Wilbue and Techno agreeing their stupid (while impressive) actions are gonna be bad influences on their sons. Wilbur calls it quits after they manage to drag Punz in, the mercenary dueling the two of them and trying to see whether strength or agility are better. Purpled is torn between cheering for either family member and just yells words of encouragement a lot.

For once in a long long time, they're safe.

[stardancerluv]

Love at The Black Mask Club

Summary: Roman grows annoyed and craves you in the middle of a busy night.

Note/Warning: I used a shot from Moulin Rouge, used Eric Roberts as Falcone instead Maronie, and shots of Ewan from Guys and Dolla. Dom!Daddy!Kink, possessiveness, wiling gagging, fingering female receiving, semi-public sex, also this is like 4 months into their relationship.

Roman pulled on his sleeve, the cufflink twinkled as his annoyance grew. Penguin was beginning to ramble. Falcone looked at him before pulling on his cigar.

He took a sip from his scotch. He let his eyes wander around the club. There was a blur of people dancing in front of the stage. He didn’t spot you. Where the fuck had you gone, he mused.

“So Roman, can I rent the VIP lounge Sunday?”

“Huh?”

“He’s looking for his girl.” Whispered Falcone to Penguin who sat near him.

“What was that?” snapped Roman.

Falcone shook his head. “Nothing of importance.”

Penquin’s beak twitched, he squawked mirth shining in his small black eyes. He readjusted his monocle. “I asked can I rent the VIP lounge on Sunday?”

“You won’t be bringing in a buffet of raw fish will you?” Roman asked dryly.

Falcone coughed, sounding more like a choke. “Roman come on, he didn’t really do that, did he?”

Roman rose an eyebrow, “You ask him.”

Penguin shifted. “I knew me and my crew would get hungry.”

Falcone made a disgusted face.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Are we done?”

No sooner did he ask than when the screechy voice he hated more than Penguin’s fishy scent called his name and she was across his lap, with a lazy arm around this throat and a clammy hand on his cheek. “Romy! I’ve missed you!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, he was in no mood. “Get the fuck off me.” He breathed. His anger bubbling in him.

“What? You’re not happy to see me? No kiss?” She drew close, her sickly sweet perfume began to fill his nose.

He pushed her off and stood up. Harley stumbled, but easily found her footing. Quickly, she was smiling and clinging to Joker’s side who had just walked up.

Falcone reached for him. “Calm down Sionis, she is only playing.”

He turned and looked at him.

Falcone raised his hand. “All right, she went too far.”

Joker’s cackle filled the still air that fell over the club. “I see my girl is getting herself in trouble.” He threw his head back and chuckled.

Roman looked over the club. People had stopped dancing and were gaping at the two of you. A huge smile spread across his face. “It’s not a party without a little drama, am I right?” He glanced around, he clapped his hands. “Come on! Turn it up! Shots on the house!” Cheers soon bounced off the walls competing with the music. The dancing and idle chatter started up once again.

He took a step toward the clown duo. He looked right into those crazy eyes, “Keep an eye on her. She’s in my club.” Turning towards the table, he pointed at Penguin. “Don’t bring any damn fish and you can rent the lounge.”

Penguin squawked. “Thank you.”

Falcone shook his head as he pulled on his cigar again.

Roman turned and went to finally go and find you.

*****

You had heard the cut in the music. Instantly, you knew someone had angered Roman. Probably fucking Harley. You quickly dipped into the ladies room. You had been dancing while he had a meeting. You made a silly face as you eyed your reflection. You ran your fingers through your hair, you still looked good.

*****

Gloved fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you against a solid warm frame. You smiled, you knew it could only be one person. “I was just looking for you.” You said brightly.

“I found you first.” Before pulling you close, he glanced at his watch. “I need you.”

“I’m-” He cut your words as he kissed you. It was an angry, hungry kiss. It made your heart race and excitement knot deep inside you.

“Follow me.” He rasped. You nodded and he practically dragged you.

“Of course.”

He tore open the door to one of the exclusive VIP rooms. The two of you nearly crashed into one of his event planners as he continued into the room further.

“Did you not want me to book this room?” Their voice shook.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman finally looked at them. He shook his head. “I’m just looking it over.”

The man rocked on his heels. “Oh good.” He gave a weak smile.

“Why are you lingering? Go and get the other room ready!” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Right! Yes!” The man hurried out.

The door whispered close behind him.

Roman turned to look at you, it made you shiver. He walked over to where you had leaned against the gold half wall. “Damn you look good tonight.”

You don’t know why, but you could not stop yourself but shimmy a little as he came up to stand behind you.

“Yes. You do.” His voice rasped in your ear after he pulled you roughly up against him. You could feel him.

“Thank you, daddy.” Your voice shook with excitement as you grew breathless. You watched as he pulled off a glove and stuffed it into his pocket.

He caressed your thigh. “Tell me baby.” His hand cupped you, pulling you closer to him. A soft sound came from you as you felt even more of him through his slacks. “Who do you belong to? Who does this belong to?” You grew wetter as you felt him squeeze harder.

“You daddy. I belong to you.” You whimpered as his fingers slipped under your panties and he cupped you once again.

“That’s right baby.” His breath was hot on your throat. “So good and wet for me.” He began to rub you. You swallowed hard, as your breath shallowed.

“Oh daddy.” You whimpered. “Please.”

He made a deep sound as you felt his lips on your throat. “Please what, baby?” You shook as you felt him slip two fingers in.

“Daddy.” You whimpered and now was not the time to pout as you felt his fingers withdraw.

He held you close. “Clean daddy’s fingers off. Daddy has to go out there soon.” He offered you his fingers.

“Of course, daddy.” You licked and sucked at his fingers, the act itself made you wetter. You loved when he reminded you who owned you.

“You are such a good baby.” He took his hand back and turned you to face him. You watched as he slipped his glove on. “I need you.”

“What do you want me to do?” Excitement curled in your stomach over what he could want.

His mouth twitched upward. “Go and brace yourself against that column.”

You did as you were told happily, watching as he came over to you while undoing the zipper of his pants. An ache in anticipation grew between your legs.

He came over and smoothed your dress up. “Ready for me?”

“Yes.” You breathed.

You felt as he pushed your panties aside. You gripped the column and a moan poured from your lips as he slid right into you. “That’s my baby. Letting her daddy take her whenever he needs you.”

All you could do was moan as he began moving in and out of you. A rhythm formed between you and him, he held onto your hips.

Suddenly the doors open and the murmur of excited voices filled the room. You glanced back at Roman, fear hit your stomach.

He looked past you and a smirk curled his lips. “Tightening in fear or excitement?” He gently teased.

“We can’t have them hear you, can we?” He reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief. “Put it into your mouth.” You couldn’t believe this but you grew wetter as he spoke.

He thrusted harder and faster into you. You bit down and moaned around his handkerchief. You shook hard. “You better cum.” He hissed. “Or you will have to wait.” Nodding, you shook at his words.

You could feel him tremble, as he moved deeper. Shaking, you finally let yourself cum. His fingers dug in hard, making you wince as he held you tightly against him. You felt as he came hard in you.

Moments later you were handing him his handkerchief. He smiled at you as he tucked it back into his suit jacket. You smoothed your dress.

“I plan expanding this back area and maybe even a place for a DJ.” He said.

Your brow furrowed but then you realized. “Oh, that could be very nice.” You said sweetly and took his arm.

“Ooo the great Roman Sionis has made an appearance at my party.” A very happy but very drunk looking guy appeared as you two were almost out of the room.

“Just making sure things were tip top.” He smiled broadly.

“Well thank you sir, thank you.”

“No trouble. Right baby?” He turned and smirked at you.

“Not at all. Have a good party.”

*****

Once down another hallway and around a corner. He happily pressed you to the wall. “We almost got caught.” You looked so sweetly up at him. Your cheeks still flushed and your eyes bright.

“But we didn’t.”

He chuckled.

You reached up and gently caressed his cheek. He kissed you then, he was feeling good. Now he could face the rest of the night.

“Come join me for my last two meetings?”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

With his arm tightly around you, together you weaved through the people. You felt his hand tighten as Two-Face was there flipping his coin up and down in the air.

Zsasz came over one side. The two of you stopped. He looked you up and down.

“Talk Zsasz, Y/N can hear whatever you have to tell me.”

A flush of happiness filled you at his words.

“Two-Face is not in a good mood.”

Roman rose an eyebrow. “Is he ever?”

You giggled into your hand.

They both looked at you. You grimaced. “He was grumpy even when I designed something for him.”

Roman smiled. “See Zsasz, he was even grumpy for Y/N.”

He scratched the back of his head. “All right.”

******

“He hired you?” Roman said as Zsasz walked ahead.

You nodded. “A two tone sofa.”

“Interesting.”

“It was. It took forever for both sides to agree.”

Roman chuckled then. “I bet.”

*****

“Y/N?!” He snatched his coin mid air instead of letting it fall into his palm.

“Hi Harvey.” You said sweetly. You

“I… We…” For once, you mused, both sides were speechless.

You glanced at Roman. “I’m Roman’s girl.”

His mouth twisted before smiling. “Great.”

“Two-Face, you and I were supposed to meet later.” Roman, looked kind of annoyed. “Where is Edward?”

“Batman.”

“Oh.” Roman muttered something you could not make out. “I wanted Y/N at my side tonight.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine. She knows where my hideout is.”

Roman raised his eyebrows at you. “Well, Harvey let’s be honest.” You put a hand on your hip.

He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. “All right, I gently had you blindfolded and brought over.”

“Exactly. But if you want me to flutter off I can.”

“No, it’s ok.” He flipped his coin and then his face grew dark. His eyes narrowed at Roman.

You held your breath.

“Roman, you better treat her right. She’s not one of us.”

You could feel Roman’s body stiffen under your arm that was wrapped around him. “She’s my girl. Of course I do.” You were touched, you had not realized they could be a softie. Harvey had always been very curt and clipped when talking or negotiating with you.

“Good.” He snarled before his face relaxed.

******

Happily you sipped at your drink while the two of them discussed business. All of it was beyond you, as they talked numbers and street names.

Your heartbeat still had not recovered from having his handkerchief in your mouth when he took you in one of the VIP lounges. As you grabbed your glass to have a sip, you felt him place a gloved hand on your thigh. He glanced at you and smiled as there was a pause in the conversation between them. You placed your hand over his. Sipping your drink, a giddiness came over you as you mused about being his girl these past months; it had been some of the most exciting in your life.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @captainjacklynmarie @villainmade

[onthecrosslook]

Three Acts

Note: Fuck it, I’m just going to post this now. @call-me-moo.

Act Three

I dial Mary’s number on my dying mobile. “Do c...come in. It’s a little cramped…I must warn you.”

I’m sitting on a rickety old chair in an abandoned building. No, not even a building- a mere façade.

Just like Mary.

I shake away the thought and concentrate. I don’t have long before I start bleeding through the stitches. Every passing minute is crucial to both the plan and my survival.

I’ve already gotten through the bulk of the phone call with Mary. It’s mostly filler to keep her from storming inside and shooting me on sight, and it’s working so far.

Like scenes from a play...

She’ll be coming inside soon, judging from her initial distance from the building. It won’t be long now.

I can hear her breathing quicken over the line as my question grows more and more personal. “What do you want, Sherlock?” she growls, her voice lower than I’ve ever heard it.

“Mary Morstan...stillborn in 1972. Thought it’d be...a-awfully clever, taking her name like that,” I say softly, clutching my chest with my free hand. “It’s why you don’t have any...f-friends from before...then.”

Common enough tactic.

Mary’s sharp laugh rings out. “You don’t sound very well, Sherlock. Perhaps we should get you to a hospital.” Her voice lowers. “Or a morgue.”

“How...how good of a shot are you?” I ask, biding my time with the questions. I need to stall. Answers can come later, hopefully with John’s assistance.

Even so…

I need to know.

I can almost hear her smirk from the other side of the line. “How badly do you want to find out? I’d be more than happy to demonstrate. I can see you’re right in front of me, it would only take a single pull of the-“

“If you’re such a good shot…” I take a few shaky breaths and continue to interrupt her, “…th-then...demonstrate. Unf-fortunately, I don’t have any l...live targets, forgive me. You’ll h-have to...settle for a coin.” I force a weak laugh that makes my stomach ache and my labouring lungs burn. “That is...i-if you can…”

The line crackles a bit on her end. “You think you can bait me, Sherlock? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yes, Mary.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I want to...know how good you are,” I say encouragingly. “Go on...the doctor’s wife must b-be...rather bored, by now...Because…” I gasp for a much-needed breath.

“Because what?” she snaps, frustrated, as she adjusts the leather strap of her heavy purse.

Added weight of the gun. Obviously unaccustomed to carrying it around. Is she still a good shot?

“Because...you’re a psychopath...and p-psychopaths get bored.” I groan into my coat collar in pain. At this rate, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.

“Ha,” she scoffs. “I’ll entertain you, Sherlock. God knows you can’t have much left in you, anyway.” Mary pulls out a fifty-pence piece from her purse and holds it aloft. She glances above, gauging the height of the ceiling with a critical eye, and flips the coin in the air. In one swift move, she aims the gun and fires. A metallic clank is heard, and she smirks triumphantly.

I hang up the phone with a flourish. “Impressive,” I whisper, the faintest smile on my face visible in the flickering light.

Mary turns to look at me, clearly startled. “You’re…standing. Then who...Ah. I see. A dummy? Fairly obvious trick, don’t you think?” She slides the coin over to me with the tip of her boot.

I lean over with a grunt and pick it up, pausing only to examine it. I straighten up, the stabbing pain making it harder to stand. My breathing is growing more and more erratic, but I choose to ignore it in favour of my deductions.

Ordinary fifty-pence coin, no obvious assistive modifications. Hole where the 0.38mm bullet penetrated is precisely in the center. Fifteen-plus years in the killing business, at least. She’s a remarkable shot, I’ll give her that.

Not good enough, though.

“Impressed?” she asks, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Spectacularly...accurate sh-shot, yet you...failed to place...a kill. Sentiment, or d-did you...not want to...blow y-your cover?” It’s a risk to taunt her so openly, but unfortunately a risk I must take.

“Neither. John wasn’t supposed to come save you. The doorframe creaked fairly loudly and that alerted him. You would have died if it hadn’t been for my damn recklessness,” Mary snarls, looking more angry at herself than anyone else. “It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

Wait-

She raises her gun to my forehead.

-this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

I hear a click and a loud shot.

When I open my eyes again, I see Mary crumpled on the floor, her chest weakly moving up and down as blood leaks from her body, filling spaces it shouldn’t be. I can hardly breathe from the shock of seeing her so suddenly vulnerable.

“You...d-don’t...you didn’t…h-have a...g-gun…” she chokes out. “H-how…?”

“Sorry,” I hear a bitter voice behind her say, and suddenly John is standing there, his gun pointed straight ahead, and it all makes sense. “Not that obvious a trick.”

“John- b-but-“ I stutter out, my mouth moving, but hardly any noise coming out.

How…how did he…?

Mary groans loudly, and I move to ask him again, thinking perhaps he didn’t hear me.

“J-John…”

“You. You don’t get to speak,” John hisses, before leaning down to Mary’s side. “Mary, I can still…”

“N-no…” she says softly, obviously straining to sit up. “It’s...t-too late, John. I...I suppose...n-now I know how...Sh-Sherlock f-felt...Ah-!” She cries out in anguish and lifts a shaking hand to John’s face.

He doesn’t push her hand away. “You’re a pathetic liar, Mary. You lied to me, you shot my best friend, you- you-“ He’s practically hyperventilating with anger now, each breath harder than the next. “You killed our baby.”

Mary is eerily silent for a moment, but she nods eventually. “I d-did...John...Will...w-will it matter...i-if I say...I-I’m sorry…?”

“No,” he says honestly. His face is more pained than I have ever seen, contorted with unspoken rage and agony. “You’ve destroyed it all, Mary. I will never forgive you.”

“P-please…” she begs, clinging onto his collar with an almost frightening desperation. “I c-can’t go...n-not like this...J-John…”

“You should have thought about that…” John swallows back a sob, “...before you shot Sherlock.”

Tears stream down her pale, stricken face. “I th-think I l-loved you...o-once...d-did you ever...l-love me...J-John…?”

“Once,” he says softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not anymore. Not since Sherlock came back, I think.”

I’m silent.

What could I possibly say…?

Her face grows sadder, if that’s possible. “I...c-could never...c-compare...not t-to…him…”

“I’m not gay,” he says with a weak smile, forcing a small chuckle.

“A-and...I’m...n-not an...a-assassin…” she gasps out with a laugh, pulling harder on his coat. “I...w-would have...n-never really...k-killed you, y-you know…?”

His face is grim. “I don’t know that, Mary. Because I don’t know you at all. I- I bet...I bet your name isn’t even Mary.”

“It’s n-not,” she admits, her grip beginning to fail. “Th-that- ...wh-what I just s-said…- was a lie...I w-would have…” she coughs out, dark blood trickling from the corners of her pink lips. “I w-would h-have...I w-would...b-because I’m s-selfish…”

He nods. “I didn’t believe you, anyway.”

“I e-even...w-wanted...R-Rosamund…” Mary’s trembling hand slips from his jacket.

“Mary…”

“R-Rosamund...f-far better...th-than...Sh-Sher...Sherlock…” Her breath hitches on my name, and her face tightens with the effort. “G-goodbye...b-both of you…”

“Mary,” John breathes. “D...don’t…”

“G-go b-back to B-Baker S-Street...J-John...And Sh-Sherlock…?” She turns her head slightly to look at me. “I-I’m...s-sorry…T-take c-care...of...J...John…”

Her eyes go glassy and dull as she quietly exhales for the last time. John looks numb as uses two fingers to gently push her eyelids shut. Pressing a final kiss to her clammy forehead, he abruptly stands up and snaps his fingers. “Sherlock. Let’s go,” he says, his tone deathly quiet and clipped.

“J-John…”

“I said...let’s go. There’s nothing left for us here.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I’ve waited too long. I should have called someone. I should have called the hospital. I can almost hear John scolding me already- ‘Why do you never call the police?’

My vision goes blurry as my legs fail me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but then again…this night has been full of surprises. Nothing short of dangerous encounters and yet another miraculous deus-ex-machina from John Watson.

Not dead. Not yet.

“Amb- ambulance…” I whisper hoarsely, before collapsing on the floor next to Mary’s cold, limp, unmoving body.

John rushes towards me, and I get a glimpse of her pale face as my eyes flutter shut. Her lips are slightly parted, almost upturned. She seems to be finally at rest. She doesn’t deserve it, but I don’t think I could think of a better way for her to exit this world. A brutal display of karma…

…And yet…

I feel my flat expression become a weak smile.

She looks...so peaceful...almost like she’s sleeping…

The End (?)

~

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Epilogue linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657054522939686912/three-acts

[jaskiersvalley]

I must say that i fucking love your writing ❤❤❤❤my heart melts by how much Jaskier cares and loves his wolves. Just, god, so wonderful! Thank you so much!

There is something so good about Jaskier looking after all his wolves, isn’t there? And I’ve been thinking about Kaer Morhen and how it’s a place where witchers go to rest over winter. What would happen if we turned that on its head? This goes against everything canon but...have I ever been known to stick to canon here?

Each winter, Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen while Jaskier went his own way. It was an arrangement that suited them both, even if Geralt left it until the very last moment before leaving. Really, Jaskier just put it down to his sparkling, magnetic personality that Geralt was finding difficult to give up. At least, that was what he thought until he suggested that they spend a winter together. There was nowhere Jaskier really had to be and he was curious to see the crumbling remains of Kaer Morhen. Geralt was so sparse with details of the place, if Jaskier wanted to write epics about it, he would need to see it for himself.

After some hesitation where Geralt actually looked cagey, Jaskier turned big, pleading eyes at him and got a nod of agreement. Excitement had Jaskier’s heart soaring. He was finally going to see the nesting ground of witchers, see them at their most relaxed and in company of family. They stocked up a cart with salted meats and dried fruits along with any other things Geralt deemed necessary.

The trek up to Kaer Morhen was long, exhausting and Jaskier hated every moment of it. He couldn’t fathom why it had to be so winding, narrow and dangerous. One false move and it would be a slow yet certain death. Arriving at the keep, there was no warm greeting, no reunion of family. The food wasn’t taken to a communal kitchen or pantry. Instead, Jaskier and Geralt hauled everything up to a sparse bedroom and piled into a corner.

Other witchers arrived too, silent and slinking in the shadows. Geralt nodded at them but didn’t speak much. The most interaction they had with each other was on the training grounds. It looked gruelling. Jaskier winced at the blows they delivered to each other, breaking skin, pummelling each other, only to have Vesemir tell them where they were weak and useless. Suddenly, Jaskier understood why Lambert rebelled against being a witcher, why he hated it so much. All through the years, Jaskier had believed that winter was when Geralt could relax, spend time with family and not be wary. But instead, he was pushed harder, made to train, fight against his brothers with desperate brutality. Food was scarce, what they managed to bring with them had to be what lasted for the winter.

Things came to a head when Jaskier found Eskel in the stables, whispering apologies to a goat for not having enough food for them all. He looked miserable, clutching the goat to his chest, knife set to the side and ready, It was heartbreaking, awful and Jaskier had had enough. He’d snapped then and dragged Eskel up to Geralt’s room and gave him some of his own food.

“What are you doing?” Vesemir had looked disapproving when he found out.

“Your job.” Jaskier was livid, fury made him fearless. “You call this home? This isn’t family. This is a survival camp of the worst kind. You’re turning them on each other.”

He didn’t know what response he’d expected, Vesemir was a witcher and older than Jaskier could hope to live in the span of three lifetimes. Yet when the old witcher snarled, he didn’t back down.

“What would you have them do? Go soft over winter? Have them spoilt rotten so they don’t want to leave in the new season? Or if they do, they’ll be slow and reliant on others? No, they need to remember that the Path is a better place for them. This is how they get back out there each year.”

It was the most ridiculous logic Jaskier had ever heard. To make a winter so bad, witchers want to stay on the Path was disgusting. He sneered and glared at Vesemir.

“These aren’t the 900s, we live in modern times now. And I will not stand for your tyranny and bullying.”

Their altercation had been watched quietly by Eskel but also drew in Geralt and Lambert who were hovering behind Vesemir. Jaskier stared him down. “I’ll prove it. You just watch.”

With some help, he got Geralt and his stash of food down into the kitchen. Eskel brought his meagre pile down too, muttering shamefully about not having enough coin for more. However, Lambert lingered, hesitant.

“What do you want to trade?”

“No trade.” Jaskier shook his head. “We’re in this together. Everyone brings what they can, you’re brothers, not enemy.”

That evening, Lambert still hadn’t brought his stash down but Jaskier still served him a bowl of watery stew he had managed to put together from what was in the pantry. There was even a bowl left by Vesemir’s door. The next morning, Lambert’s stash had been added to the pantry.

Training was another battleground between Vesemir and Jaskier. They stood either side of the court, announcing they were both offering training. Strangely, Lambert was the first to head for Jaskier and it was just the two of them that morning, loyalty and fear making Eskel and Geralt stick with Vesemir.

Three days later, Geralt, head down, shuffled to Jaskier’s end of the training grounds and he sat down next to Lambert. As far as he could see, there had been no physical training or anything strenuous Lambert had been forced to do. It might change but he wanted a moment of peace, even if it was half a morning. Instead, he got offered a warm fur to settle in and Jaskier tried to draw him and Lambert into idle conversation.

After lunch, like a beaten dog, Eskel slunk closer. In the distance, Vesemir stood rigid, glaring. Jaskier looked up and set his book of poetry aside.

“Vesemir!” He shouted as the lone witcher turned to leave. Breaking into a run, Jaskier rounded on him and, without any preamble, pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay. You did what you thought you had to. Let me help though.”

It was one of the most miserable winters Jaskier had ever had. Despite careful rationing and pooling of resources, it was still a tough time. By the end of it, he could see the witchers were eager to leave, to get out of Kaer Morhen. Even with his care and gentle approach, the keep held too many bad memories, too many bad habits.

“Next winter, don’t come here. Come to Lettenhove. All of you.” It was a generous offer but the witchers obviously didn’t know just what he was offering. One by one, they agreed except for Vesemir. “You too, Ves,” Jaskier clarified. “Come and let me show you a winter you’re worthy of.”

The year passed, the witchers let loose from Kaer Morhen and dispersing without so much as a look over their shoulders. Spring melded into summer which bled into autumn. As winter approached, Jaskier made arrangements, had rooms prepared for potential visitors and returned home with Geralt in tow.

First at the door was Lambert, looking gaunt and exhausted. The year had obviously not been kind to him, his coin pouch looked light and that was without any supplies he needed to buy for the winter. He was shown to a room and Jaskier found him staring at the soft bed, not daring to touch it.

“You sure that’s for me?”

Jaskier simply helped take his armour off and pushed him into the bed, tucking him in. He would have laughed at the way Lambert looked so bewildered by the gentleness if his heart hadn’t been too busy breaking over the same thing.

Next, Eskel arrived, goat in tow. He was given a room of his own and Jaskier smiled when he was presented with a book of poetry as thanks for his hospitality. It was one he’d mentioned back at Kear Morhen as having never been able to get hold of. Chances were, it had cost Eskel a pretty penny.

When Vesemir knocked on the door, he looked deeply uncomfortable, as if expecting the whole thing to be a trap or to be turned away. He had a cart piled up with food for the season already. Jaskier showed him to his room without batting an eyelash.

Winter was so much better. The witchers still trained but there wasn’t the edge of desperation to their fights. Sometimes it was downright playful, Lambert clinging to Eskel and refusing to be thrown while Geralt pelted them with snowballs. There were other changes too. Slowly, the witchers softened. That wasn’t to say they lost their muscles, they still trained, kept sharp but there was a layer that Jaskier fondly referred to as ‘puppy fat’ on them. They weren’t locked away in a crumbling, cold keep and struggling to survive for another year. Instead, they were thriving.

While Eskel never strayed beyond the boundaries of the home, Lambert was out frequently. The one time he came home dejected because someone made a snide comment about how a witcher should be left out in the cold wilderness to freeze, Jaskier had gone out, a cheap lute in hand. He came back without said lute but the next day there were rumours Lambert heard of how the Viscount hand smashed a lute over someone’s head. After that, nobody dared question the appearance of witchers in the town. It was a well known fact that they were guests of Jaskier and were to be treated as such.

Vesemir’s last walls came crumbling down when, over dinner, rather than snapping and snarling at each other, the other witchers chattered away happily and Lambert laughed. It wasn’t the bitter, hollow bark of before. Instead, he leaned into Eskel with easy familiarity and giggled. Finally, Vesemir understood and he had no idea what to do with the regret and shame that witchers allegedly never felt. And yet, despite everything, a solid warmth settled on his left. Jaskier looked up at him with a smile. Someone settled on his other side and Eskel offered a soft shoulder nudge. It was Geralt who boxed him in from behind, hands on Vesemir’s shoulders and squeezing.

“You’re alright, old man,” Lambert said. “You did your best and what you thought was right.”

Come spring, the witchers were all raring to go, healthy, healed and ready to return to the path. They knew they had their roles and destiny to fulfil, wouldn’t even consider shirking their duties. However, now they had more of a reason to survive rather than sheer spite and not knowing how to die. Instead, they knew that, come winter, they would have a family once again.

[fookinfandoms]

Life Eternal | Hector Castlevania

Set before Dracula requested Hector’s services. Reader is believed to be a witch, but in reality she just doesn't care for human company.

Pairing: Hector x Reader

Warnings: Language, small mention of smut, mentions of animal death/resurrection. 

Part One.

_________________________________________________________________

They call you a witch, and you never bothered to correct them.

It was preposterous, you were nothing of the sort. You never really understood why the townspeople hated outsiders so much. It had been months since you had settled in, yet you couldn't get as much as a smile from your own neighbour.

There was one woman however that would spare you a few words, that is if you paid her some coin in exchange for her cooked goods.

Was it because you didn't attend church? Perhaps it was because you choose to remain in the company of your dog over the local women's group that congregated every Thursday. The people weren't friendly at all, and you often wondered if you made the right decision in moving to such a tight-knit community. 

You weren't the only outsider however. It had been three weeks after you had moved in when you saw him. 

He wasn't like the others here. 

He kept his head down, his voice to himself. Even when the people would throw abuse at him, he kept his eyes to the dirt. It both saddened and confused you, wondering why such was happening. He didn't look like some brute, nor some boisterous drunk... so why did they all hate him?

Finding the courage to ask the baker, she informed you that he dabbled in dark magic, and was often found talking to wild animals. He lived on the big hill, and she continued to babble on about how he was rumoured to bring animals back to life. This surprised you, and you asked for more information but she held her hand out for more coin.

It didn't bother you as much as it should, for you spoke mainly to animals too. Your small companion - a beagle named Rhubarb. He was your best friend and the only family you had left. He wasn't everyone’s cup of tea that's for sure, often stealing fish from the baskets from local fisherman. 

This was life. 

It was Rhubarb and you against the world, that is until you came home from your weekly trip to the market, having bought new blankets for the two of you when you found Rhubarb lying on the side of the road. 

He stayed unmoving, even after calling his name twice. Rain poured down heavily, and you wondered why the silly dog hadn't run under a tree yet. You knelt down by his side, placing your basket by his head. 

He still didn't move, and your breath caught in your throat.

It took you some seconds to realise he wasn't breathing, and you screamed out in anguish at the sight. Your hands shook as you pulled his small, limp body into your arms, holding him in an embrace as you sob.

His fur was darkened in harsh line, and you knew someone had purposely run over him with a carriage. He knew better than to play on the road, but being an older dog, he wasn't as quick as he used to be. 

He was your life. 

Rhubarb still had years ahead of him, running past your feet and stealing fishes from baskets. Who would be so cruel to run over a dog? On purpose? 

The tears wouldn't stop falling. Was this your curse in life? Everyone you loved being taken away from you?

No. 

If there was a way to bring him back, you will have to try. 

You wrap Rhubarb in one of the new blankets, careful not move too quickly. There was only one destination on your mind, and you hoped the baker was right. The rain had soaked through your dress completely, clinging to you like a second skin.  

Your hair blew in the wind, tangling into a mess, and tiny sobs still escaped you as you cuddled your beloved friend in your arms. 

You weren't sure how long you had been walking for. Minutes? Hours? It felt like days by the way you shivered in the storm. In reality it had only been twenty minutes, but each step felt like an eternity. If this didn't work, you didn't know what you would do. 

The sky had long since turned dark, and you felt no fear as you walked. Finally, light could be seen ahead, and you silently prayed to whoever was listening that he was home. Lighting struck from behind you, and your breathing came out harshly as you trudged up the hill. 

You wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't hear your kicks against his front door over the sound of thunder. Your hands were full, and you were sure your toes would be bruised over how hard you kicked. 

The door didn't budge, and so you kicked again, over and over. 

The tears continued to fall, and desperation came out in small cries as your arms grew weak from the heavy weight. 

“Please,” You yell out. “I know you're in there! Please!”

The door finally opens, nearly causing you to lose balance. He stands in front of you, face full of anger at the intrusion. 

“What the bloody hell do you want?” He peers down at you in confusion, his eyes staring into yours. If it weren’t for the fact you were currently shivering and holding your deceased dog in hand, you would’ve said something about his unique appearance. “Well?”

“Y-you have to help me,” You held Rhubarb closer to you. “They s-said you could help!”

The man pays no attention to the bundle in your arms, instead choosing to shut the door. He doesn’t get the chance however, as your foot wedges itself before it could close.

“What are yo-“

“He didnt deserve this!” You cry, ignoring the pain shooting up your leg at the sharp movement. The rain pours even harder, and there’s not one part of you dry.

“He?” The man questions, and instead of replying, you peel back an edge of the blanket, revealing a limp paw.

His eyes narrow slightly, before he looks back to you. “What are you asking of me here?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m asking.”

“The last time I helped somebody,” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work in my favour. Leave.”

“I will pay you anything, I will slave away in the kitchens if I have too,” Begging was your last resort. “I will give you myself for Christ’s sake! Just please help him!”

He sighs, his head looking towards the ceiling as if in deep thought before letting the door open again. He steps aside, signalling for you to enter. You do so quickly, immediately feeling better at the warmth. It didn’t help that your clothes were completely drenched. Gods, you probably did look like a witch right now.

“Well?” The man says from behind you, and you turn your head. His arms are outstretched, asking for you to pass the animal over.

Your teeth clatter as you shiver yet again, but you gently pass Rhubarb over to the stranger. He takes him with as much care, and your hands immediately begin to rub at your upper arms for warmth.

He begins to walk away, further into the house and you follow suit. A cat runs past your feet as you pass through a hallway, and it’s then you notice half her face missing. It surprises you to find that you’re not scared, and the further you look around the more you begin to notice plenty more pets.

“Don’t pay them any mind, they won’t harm you.” The stranger mumbles ahead, and you whip your head in his direction.

“I’m not worried, they seem pleasant.” Your tone matches his, and he chuckles. He stops, turning his head around with a forced grin.

“Pleasant. They’re dead. They don’t like strangers, so don’t get too comfortab-“ As if on cue, another cat rubs their head against your leg, and the stranger frowns. “Well that’s new.”

“Most animals like me, even the dead ones I guess.” You shrug, bending down to pet the cats head. It’s stomach is exposed, and your heart aches knowing the animal must’ve suffered before meeting the magic man.

“And this one?” He nods towards the bundle in his arms, and your bottom lip quivers. He begins to walk again, and you wipe away a stray tear.

“T-that’s Rhubarb,” You stand, following once more. “I’ve had him since I was young.”

“So old age got him then.”

“No,” The man was taken back by the sudden change of your tone. “Someone in the town killed him on purpose, they don’t like me and they certainly didn’t like him.”

“Bastards.” His jaw clenched at the news.

“I guess it was easier to kill my boy than it was to kill me.” He nods in agreement.

“They’re scum, all of them.”

It was your turn to nod. Finally the two of you came to a room, a stone table laying in the centre. Various knives stood at the side, and your stomach dropped.

As if sending your unease, the man shakes his head. “I’m a forge master, there is no need to worry about those.”

It didn’t exactly help calm your nerves, but realising the man was actually a forge master and not some magician made more sense. Forge masters weren’t exactly liked in the world, much to your confusion.

“I’m Hector,” Hector places Rhubard down on the table, removing the blanket off of him. “And you are?”

“(Y/N),” You stood in the back as Hector moved around. His movements were graceful, and your chest tightened at the site of your beloved pet. “I moved here recently.”

He chuckes. “I thought as much, we don’t get many of your kind here.”

“My kind?” The air turned colder by the second, and you slowly made your way to the fireplace in an attempt to warm up, keeping your eyes on the forgemaster.

“Good-hearted.” His hands rest of Rhubarbs stomach, petting him as if he were alive.

“How do you know I’m good hearted? I don’t think even forgemasters can read souls.”

“You offered me your body in exchange for your dogs life,” He looks back at you with a genuine smile. “Not many people would do that. No sane person at least.”

“Most sane people have others in their life to keep them as such, I only have him.”

“Well let me just say that there will be no need for such payment, I can see you care deeply for him.” Hector reaches for a peculiar shaped coins. “But you may want to look away, it gets quite bright.”

You do as he says, choosing to look at the fire. The room grows dark as Hector works, and you close your eyes, silently hoping for success. Minutes go by, the sound of metal on metal ringing through your ears as you breathe out quickly.

The ringing continues for sometime, before the whole room goes quiet. The only sound heard is the cracking of the fire, that is until a familiar bark startles you.

Your eyes open, and you’re met immediately with a beagle at your feet, jumping onto his hind legs in an attempt to climb on you. You fall to your knees, your arms surrounding Rhubarb as he licks at your cheeks. His eyes are no longer a dark brown, instead a shimmering blue. You didn’t care, all that mattered now was that he was alive.

“Oh my darling boy,” You cried, letting the small dog climb into your lap. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

Hector wipes his hands with a clothe, before clearing his throat.

“You have to let me pay you somehow,” You sniff as Rhubarb continues whining for attention. “You have a gift Hector.”

“Others don’t think so.” He laughs, throwing the clothe onto the table.

“The others can go jump off a cliff for all I care,” The beagle in your lap jumps away, turning his attention to Hector for pats. “You saved him, that matters to me.”

“Yes well right now you’re getting my floorboards wet,” Hector kneels down to Rhubarbs level. “So if you’re wanting to pay me somehow, you can pay me but dressing into something more comfortable and staying.”

Your stomach drops at his words, and as if realising his own innuendo, he stumbles over his next words.

“N-no not like that! I just m-mean it’s too dangerous to return home right n-now,” Hector coughs, his cheeks turning a small tinge of pink. “You know with the storm in all, and it would’ve been a w-waste of both our efforts tonight.”

In just a span of a few minutes, Hector went from a cocky forgemaster to a blubbering mess. It made you giggle, and he releases a few small chuckles himself as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

[tmabigbang]

Masterpost of TMA Big Bang 2020 Fics

To prevent clogging up anyone’s dash, we have put all of these fics under a read more since there are 28 wonderful fics created for this bang, which makes for a bit of a long post! Below the cut are links and summaries to all the fics created for this bang! 

In addition to this post, you can also check out our fic page (which you can find here)! The fic page includes links to all the fics, art, and the team members that helped create them! You can also use some basic filters for rating and oneshot/multichapter to find fics.

Thank you again to all our participants, and we will see you next year!

Your Job’s A Joke (You’re Broke) by @bisexualoftheblade and @desert-lily

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27590578

Summary: Working at the Magnus Institute was stressful by default. With monsters, mayhem, and potential primordial entities, it has very little expectations for being a comfortable job. However, everyone is allowed to have a little fun sometimes - even an archivist, their assistants, and their really creepy boss. Fueled by spite and a rampant lack of heterosexuality, they all try to balance their work life with a bit of fun and a healthy dose of bullying twelve-times divorced Elias Bouchard.

I Know The End by @williammatagot

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27947966

Summary: Except, for all that beautiful poetry, Eliot was wrong, because the world doesn’t end with a bang, sure, but it doesn’t end with a whimper, either. It ends with the distant-yet-deafening voice of the man Martin loves shouting through a ragged, wild throat--I open the door. (The world ends, Jon shatters, and Martin tries to fix it. The house tries, too, in its own way.)

From the Depth of the Spiral by @trickstergod14

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27842941

Summary: Michael had no idea what was going on. He suddenly woke up in the tunnels under the Magnus Institute with no memories of the past seven years after that fateful trip to Sannikov Land. Watch as he slowly spirals into madness, regaining his memories while strengthening his bond with the Distortion along the way. Can he hide all this from the other Archival Assistants? What will happen when Jon wakes up from his coma? And what does the newly crowned Distortion Avatar, Helen, have to do with all this?

Every Word I Say is Kindling (But The Smoke Clears When You’re Around) by @ohnoimdeathing

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27956897

Summary: The unknowing left Jon stirring in the nightmares of others, watching their torment and suffering and making everything worse. He wanted to wake up, to go back to Martin, Tim, Basira, even Daisy. But he didn’t know how to. Until a voice told him to choose Though, to be honest, he doesn’t remember actually making the choice to stay a monster and live rather than be human and die. The only injury the doctors will talk about is his missing eyes, and why are all the doctors Scottish? At least Martin is here.

Spinning ‘Round (like two sides of a coin) by @awayofunderstandingit

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27835756

Summary: Time is a construct. What we know as past, present, and future all exist at the same time, ad infinitum. • Guided not by time but a spoken word poem, follow along the lives of two intertwined souls, Timothy Stoker and Sasha James. The story of their friendship from the time they meet, through growing apart, to when they fall back together, and through their time working at the Magnus Institute. Witness slices of their lives—not memories, memories would suggest the past—as they exist, ad infinitum, even at The End.

retrouvailles by @jet-siquliak

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27818092

Summary: The Magnus Institute burns. The archivist, for all intents and purposes, burned with it. In a dingy hospital room lies what remains - Jonathan sims. weak, powerless, and insignificant. On Jon’s last day in the hospital, Martin awakes from a coma, unscathed. Melanie King kicks the dirt that once housed the institute. Tim stoker wakes up in the middle of nowhere. Elias Bouchard is dead. No one knows where to go from there. Or: the destruction of one home and the making of another.

Still, I’ll Always Keep the Memory by @revolutionnaire-e

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27932125

Summary: [MARTIN turns, stepping out of the shadows towards him. It is blood, not tears. His left eye is not his own. His eyes never shone that blinding green, never shone with such malice or self-satisfied pride.] MARTIN BLACKWOOD Pleasure to see you again, Archivist.

Making Home by @cuddlytogas

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27664805

Summary: After the events in the Panopticon, Jon and Martin rush to leave London. But making their home in an idyllic safe house isn't that easy: between the layer of dust, and Forsaken still clinging to Martin's heels, it could be some time before they reach an understanding.

called your name ‘til the fever broke by @corpsesoldier

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27845161

Summary: Basira made a promise to her partner. At the end of the world, a monster comes and demands she keep it.

assorted family photos by @lesbianbirds

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27903979

Summary: When setting off on a research trip, it is advised that you prepare yourself for certain oddities that may greet you. or; key moments in a world where the entities are weaker and everyone got a bit more therapy

Timothy Stoker’s Guide to Dating by @pezilla

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27841267

Summary: Timothy Stoker has a lot of advice when it comes to matters of the heart, online agony aunt, gossip monger and general love guru. He has a list and he sticks to it. Or he did. That was before he took a job at the Magnus Institute and before he met three of the most fascinating and frustrating people to ever come into his life. Rule #7 under no circumstances fall for a co-worker. Yeah, that rule was starting to become a problem.

Running the Institute by @drowsy-salamander

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27878306

Summary: Caroline Ferguson, the entirety of the Magnus Institute's legal department, is furiously ignoring any weirdness that could be going on in her workplace, from the tech issues to the vanishing colleagues to the everything about Artefact Storage, Caroline will turn a very deliberate blind eye. They're are not her problem. Now if only those murders could also stop.

kindred spirits (not so scarce as I used to think) by @pollylittlehigher-littlelower

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27914821

Summary: An Anne of Green Gables inspired AU, set in modern day England. Jon and Georgie are childhood best friends, but the two stop talking after a falling out. Even doing their best to avoid each other, Georgie struggles to escape him, even while dealing with her own mental health issues and a blossoming romance with her housemate, Melanie. Is Jon truly the kindred spirit she once considered him? Or will the two eventually part ways for good?

Friends of Empty Graves by @artswaps

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27974807

Summary: After the coffin, she cuts her hair. Who is Alice Tonner? People are searching for her in the space she left behind, in the person she was. Daisy looks elsewhere, and tries not to choke.

just let the feeling grow by @ajkal2

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27838447

Summary: Jon is a musician. He plays songs for a living. Except love songs. He doesn't do love songs, and he makes this quite clear with anyone interested in working with him. Except his manager has booked him for a wedding. Without asking. With days before the festivities start, Jon needs help. Desperately. He won't get it from his hosts, the Lukas family. He certainly won't get it from his manager. However, there's a certain amateur poet on the Lukas' staff who has a talent for making love sound genuine.

World Cold and Hard, Moth Boy Warm and Soft by @lcjenkinswriting

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27827491

Summary: Jon, a young moth fairy, leaves the nest in search of a place that feels like home

tapes winding forward by @ghostbustermelanieking

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27858721

Summary: Martin ignores him, stops him mid-sentence to say, "Jon, what have you heard about time travel?" --- Martin and Jon wake up two years in the future. It goes about as well as can be expected.

MAG 26.5: Beach Episode by @ebenrosetaylor

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27882746

Summary: Sasha is aware of the rising tensions in the archives after Martin was stalked by Prentiss and after she had her own encounter with Michael. In an attempt to boost morale and bring them closer together, Tim suggests that they all visit the beach to unwind and get their minds off of all things paranormal. Sasha takes it upon herself to make sure that everyone has fun and relaxes, but she forgets to give herself that luxury.

Rewrite The Rulebook by @radiosandrecordings

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27823774

Summary: "Panic! Bloody panic! I've been out since I was fifteen and never once actually brought someone home. I think I just wanted to seem like I had my life together, y’know? Mainly I just... I think I just wanted someone to be there with me, so I wasn't just alone with her the entire time. A bit of comfort.” There was pause as Martin let out a dramatic sigh, seemingly relieved to ramble out his thoughts. "... I could go with you. If you want."

A Test In Patience by @talking4the1

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27917749

Summary: Elias is going about his day as the new head of the Magnus Institute in 1995. Some spreadsheets to do, meetings to attend mundane and supernatural. Nothing seems out of place until The Eye calls him to Bournemouth.

Of Mothers and Memory by @loverdontleave

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27856585

Summary:  There is a story to be told, of two people, a mother and a son. Of their history together, and the sacrifices they made for each other. Perhaps they loved each other once, but that thread of connection has weakened on one end, fraying away. And it is so, so cold.

Would That I Were Golden Dust by @that-one-girl-behind-you

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27734197

Summary: The world is a lot more dangerous with your soul walking by your side, and Entities aren’t shy about feeding on golden Dust.

Till Death, Parted by @bigowlenergy

Ao3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27749680

Summary: Jon gets caught after ripping out Gerry’s page by Trevor & Julia, and through a comedy of errors ends up engaged as an excuse. Somehow, Jon gets out alive, Gerry is freed, and they have the two hunters accompanying them as bodyguards - and as best man and best woman - without a fight. Living alone in Gerry’s London safe house afterwards will be totally fine. Jon is fine. He knows what coping is and everything! Totally fine.

The Spoken Word by @drumkonwords

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802708/chapters/68066326

Summary: Jon wants. Their pinky twitches — stretching and curling to the tune of something musical. The song of wanting, with its motifs of long, low notes. Starting quiet and mumbling up into Jon’s chest until the strings of their heart vibrate like the strings of a double bass and all they can do is wonder who’s tune they’re matching. But they know.

First Aid by @platypik

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27948284

Summary: Jon is certain Martin has been acting strangely all morning. When Martin offhandedly mentions he took a bad tumble off the tube to work, Jon suddenly Knows that the fall had given Martin a nasty fracture. Despite his desperate pleading, Martin stubbornly refuses to let Jon drive him to the hospital. In fact, it seems he would much rather take care of it himself than have Jon worry and fuss over him. Jon would disagree.

Burning Bright, In the Forests of the Night by @triffidsandcuckoos

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27915400

Summary: The safehouse bursts into flames at their backs. You can choose to change the path. Just be ready for what else you might change.

i’ve been static for too long by @furryjefferson

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27887878

Summary: Jonathan Sims ends up with a stranger’s phone on the way home from work. All signs point to the Magnus Institute, and all roads lead to its mysterious archivist: Martin Blackwood.

through the clouds like a moonbeam by @digital-waterfall 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27877402

Summary: After passing through the Vast’s domain, Jon is left with an unexpected surprise-- a pair of wings. Unsurprisingly, Martin finds them beautiful. Also unsurprisingly, Jon does not.

[discotenny]

!Bungo Stray Brothers!

Ranpo and Poe with a little sister

!requested by @maibeff!

This is long overdue sorry djfjdk. I accidentally posted this last night oopsie >.> trying something new w the banners

Okay so I know that everyone says Ranpo would be a really lazy brother, and he still is don’t get me wrong, butttt Ranpo would be a top-notch sibling

During the time of your parents’ deaths, you were barely a teenager. At the prior advice of your late parents, he dragged you to Yokohama, where the two of you now reside. Through the years, Ranpo filled the void left by your parents, guiding and teaching you as they once did. Well, trying his best to do so anyways

Despite his attitude aimed at many, Ranpo is quite caring towards you. He’s constantly checking up on your wellbeing, whether through texts or casual conversation. Sometimes, he’ll even do that thing where a person messes up someone's hair with their hand in passing

While not as athletic as his coworkers, Ranpo can still put up some of a fight. Thus, he will absolutely try to fight anyone that attempts to mess with his dear sister

He thinks the world of you, and you’re one of the few people he’ll give some of his oh so coveted praise to

Your relationship with Fukuzawa is very friendly. While he’s a father figure to Ranpo, he’s more of a grandfather character to you since you don’t see him as much

Ranpo insists you visit the ADA offices often, and so you also have friendly relations with the rest of the members. Though Ranpo warns you not to get deeply involved with Dazai for some reason 🤔

With any romantic partner you have, he wants to have a one on one talk with them to discern if they’re a good enough person for you. Though an issue he has is that he judges everyone to his standards, and his standards are high

Household chores are a big no-no when it comes to Ranpo, and often you’ll be forced to literally lay the vacuum on him if you want him to do shit

Your fridge is always empty due to both you and Ranpo’s negligence when it comes to grocery shopping. It becomes a daily occurrence for you two to text each other back and forth begging for the other to purchase some groceries on their way home

Y/n: Ranpoooo can you pls pick up some eggs after work? We also need [insert shopping list of items]

Five minutes later...

Ranpo: Hey y/n can you pick up [insert a screenshot of the shopping list from your message] on your way home

When the time comes for you to move out, Ranpo tries his best not to cry as he hugs you before you go. Being the only family he has left in the world, your departure affects him a lot. Afterward, Ranpo ends up learning how to manage the trains by himself just so he can visit you all by himself ~

A sibling who’s a student [around a high schooler, so let’s say 18]

He’s always making comments on your homework being ‘too easy,’ and will sometimes do some problems on your worksheets out of pure boredom

Ranpo would absolutely help you cheat with assignments

For a small fee of course... that fee coming in the form of snacks

As Ranpo serves as your legal guardian, he’s the one that has to sign all your school papers. Most of the time he leaves you stressed, messed, and upset as he always lets forms go unsigned until the very last minute

Despite being a student, you still end up cooking for the two of you most of the time

If you go to the convenience store after your school day, Ranpo always texts you. One, to check up on you. And two, to make sure you buy him a bag candy

When you don’t walk straight home from school, chances are you head your way towards the detective agency. When you do so, Ranpo is calling you over to his desk and tells you do work on your homework beside him. Even if you don’t have homework Ranpo will still tell you to sit at his desk just so he can keep some eye on you

When the ADA closes up for the day, you two end up eating out at a cafe somewhere. No exceptions, this happens every time

If it weren’t for his height, most would assume that Poe was the younger of you two

If anyone were to attempt to hurt this babby, you’d likely be the one sticking up for him. He felt awful and weak during any kind of occurrence like this, and often would hideaway for a bit after

While he’s not particularly strong, Poe is an amazing listener and will hear you out with any struggles you have at the moment. He would even tell Karl to curl up in your lap, a small sign of his trust towards you

In turn, when he becomes upset over his loss to Ranpo, you’re there right by his side after to cheer him up. Even when he shuts off all personal connections after his crushing defeat, you still check up on him to make sure he hasn’t withered away  

You’re his biggest supporter and vise versa

Poe is r i c h. If your family didn’t come from wealth before, you bet your ass that he shares his coin with you. Though, you feel a bit bad for accepting the large amounts of money he sends you. But, your brother persists that its just pay back for all of your support

When Poe got Karl at the age of 10 [let’s just say he got him at 10 because raccoons live up to an average of 20 years domesticated], he would do everything in his power to make sure the two of you got along. Eventually, you warmed up to his new pet and Poe couldn’t be happier

Growing up, you were always by his side. Seeing as he’s quite sensitive and timid, you would cling to him in order to watch out for any possible detriments to your brother’s happiness. Sticking to his side most of your childhood, you grew a fondness for all the stories he would write

When he first discovered his ability, you and Poe would spend hours exploring the world of different books. While he may have not been into the kind of books you would read as a youngling, everything was worth it if he got to see you smile

You two would also have sleepovers in his room. Dragging a blanket and pillow to his door, you’d ask if you would be allowed to sleep in his bedroom for the night. Despite it surprising him each time, Poe would never deny your request 

With blankets, Karl, and pillows strewn around the room, Poe would excuse himself to the kitchen to make the two of your some tea. You’d almost always fall asleep next to your brother as he drafted new stories

When Poe gets involved with The Guild, the first thing you worry about his his safety. Then he gets upset at the fact that he’s worried you and ends up calling you, frantically apologizing and hoping you won’t dislike him. The last thing he wants in life is your disapproval ;-;

While you hold no issue with The Guild’s ‘activities’ [more so you don’t know about their crimes], you make your brother promise you that he’d be careful

On his leave to Japan and subsequent announcement that he’d stay there indefinitely, you’re already making plans to visit him one day

His sister comes to Japan

Your visit is a surprise, even if you have been messaging him about it for weeks

Y/n: Edgar! I’m leaving for Japan tomorrow morning so I’m going to have to sleep early tonight. 

Poe spits out his tea

Edgar: Yourecomingtojapanwhat? 

Of course, he picks you up, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t?

Seeing you at the airport, Poe can’t contain his smile. While you two don’t hug, Poe is ecstatic to see you and can’t wait to show you around. Karl is in the car and he immediately jumps onto you when you come in

When he introduces you to Ranpo, you can’t help but hold a little grudge. Cmon, this was the man that caused your dear brother to become a recluse for years! Though Poe sees your hesitation and encourages you that all blood is fine between the two. After seeing how happy your brother becomes at Ranpo’s company, you admit that he isn’t awful

Your time in Japan is spent talking with Poe and Ranpo most of the time. While it’s mostly chilling in the detective agency, your brother’s friend ends up dragging the two of you around to different cafe’s 

Once, Ranpo asked if you knew of the chaos that The Guild caused in Japan. It’s the one time he’s ever seen and heard Poe so panicked as he screamed ‘I wasn’t involved’

Wouldn’t it be funny if you and Ranpo fell into a relationship

Hrjdksks apologies these are too long ;-; I liked writing these so there may be a bit of incoherence throughout... Also I haven’t posted in a week oops. Thank you for your kind words Mai ! All the love in the world for you 💕

I hope you enjoyed anyways, and apologies for any future disappointment

[faetalwords]

Summer Rains and Old Pains

It took four years for Lambert to admit that the Cat wasn’t just an acquaintance. It took two more before he acknowledged that in so many words. He would never know when he fell in love with him.It took six months for Aiden to stop sleeping with one eye open - the wolf didn’t have the patience for a long con. It took two years for him to start calling the wolf ���his friend” at the Caravan. It took two more for him to think that he might be a little bit in love with him. It would be a decade before they kissed for the first time.

It was a delicate game that they played, dancing on a knife’s edge in barefoot summer rains.A light push in either direction would send them both into a free fall, anger and violence for months on end until they simmered and cooled enough to embrace and cling to the other’s company like a child to a blanket. A push could be as simple as a beg for another evening or as forceful as a fistfight. It was a dangerous dance that worked in their favor most days. They were determined to make it work; so it did.

* They rode at each other’s side, horses trotting along toward the next podunk little town big enough to have a decent inn. They hadn’t seen another traveler in days and even Lambert was aching for a good bed to lie in. Naturally it had to rain. “If you hadn’t insisted we check out that embankment we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aiden grumbled, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He should have looked like a half drowned rat... or cat. It wasn’t fair, he looked like a painting.“I’m sorry that I have some half decent morals!” He added a mutter under his breath of “Fucking Cat.” “Your morals got you a sprained ankle and no pay for a job that should have gotten us at least twenty crowns a piece, sweetheart.” He… had a point. It wasn’t even as though the drowners were near a village. They were three hours from the last washing post for Melitele’s sake. But… no. He was not admitting defeat.“Better than a dead kid next summer. Hell, what are you complaining for? You’re the one who's been bitchin’ about a bath.” “Yes. A bath. A wonderful, warm, lovely bath- not freezing rain and a muddy river. Melitele’s tits Lam!” Aiden was a good man, he was. A damn sight better than Lambert most days but the man could complain for hours . Lambert would be paying some inn keeper for a bath that evening; he simply knew it.  Even still… he reached over and flicked water from his gloves at the Cat’s face. “You’ll live.”

* “Duck!” Aiden hit the forest floor as an arrow whipped through where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled left and popped back to his feet in time to catch a bandit with his dagger, just under the man’s ribs. He made a satisfying sound when he hit the ground. Aiden didn't have time to revel in it. “Stupid thing, robbing a witcher. Robbing two? You must have been top of your class.” He spun in time to see Lambert knock the last man in the clearing unconscious before he took off into the trees. Branches broke as the archer took off post haste, seeming to realize that he was now in a very poor position. Lambert caught him before Aiden could take the first coin pouch off their would be assailants. Lambert was… harsh. He kept his gentle smiles and laughs, all his soft pieces that the world hadn’t yet managed to beat out of him close to his chest. Covered in layer upon layer of thorns and armor. He would cut his way through a hundred men before he let someone see the things he considered his weaknesses. Aiden had, somehow, managed to slip between those defenses at some point. He wasn’t sure when. Despite the rage that he carried in his chest Lambert was a good man; he didn’t take contracts on humans and he rarely killed them outright, a bit of maiming or disfigurement was well within the cards but he refused to make use of a grave. Except where Aiden was concerned. Except where the people who he loved were concerned. He’d asked, just once, why the death of a human was the line. Why after everything that life had thrown at him and all that he had done in return that was where he put the marker. Lambert had been half asleep and full of good whiskey at the time; so the answer was honest, too much so. “Cause I’ve got the upper hand no matter what. It’d be like beating on a woman or hitting a kid and I ain’t got any plans on being like my father. That’s if it’s jus’ me though. They wanna hurt someone else and I’m not going to let them get on with that. Might as well put those damn trials to some fuckin' use...” In the morning he hadn’t acknowledged the information he’d so trustingly laid at Aiden’s feet; and they went on with their lives. Lambert came back then with a recently cleaned steel sword. “They ruined my good boots.” “We’ll get you new ones.” Aiden promised. “I’m holding you to that.” A calloused hand was offered to him and Aiden placed his own within it. On his feet he stepped into the wolf’s space, using their clasped hands to pull him into a one armed hug. He ran his hand over the wolf's back for both comfort and to ensure there were no injuries he needed to patch. “Least I can do for you saving my ass.”

* They tumbled into bed together for the first time after a bar fight. It wasn’t a bed really; it was a bedroll laid beneath an overhang of rock and they were both too keyed up from their frantic flight out of town to make anything last long. Lambert had a black eye and Aiden had a split lip that protested every harsh kiss pressed against it but neither witcher cared. Pain was routine, a small price for the love and the pleasure- the oh so fucking finally feeling of giving in to what they wanted. With fumbling hands they brought each other off. Aiden slung a heavy arm over the wolf’s waist and tensed when Lambert’s hand circled his wrist, well expecting to have it tossed aside with a complaint about cuddling like he had in every inn they’d shared a bed within before. He didn’t though. Aiden woke the next morning with his arm still firmly in place. The grumbling about ‘disgusting dried fluids’ was even worth it.

* Lambert was in a mood. The birds were too loud, the flowers that bloomed alongside the road were too cloying, and the sun was too damn bright. Even Aiden, the only person on the planet that could stand his company more than a few hours, was distancing himself on their trek. The contract was for a pair of griffins, easy enough, but the alderman had smelled of cheap liquor and the look in his eye said that they would be lucky to get half the promised pay. “Hey, kitten?” It comes out as a biting thing, no matter his attempts to keep his frustration off the cat's head. “Yeah?” Aiden looked at him then, eyes that edged on green rather than amber, wide and expecting. “How ‘bout you go on and get our pay. I’ll probably gut the fucker if I have to deal with him right now.” The cat didn’t reach out for him, having spent too long at the wolf’s side not to realize his mood and the preferences that came with it. “Alright. You going to be in our room?” “Yeah, I’m going to try to sleep off the last of this damn potion.” He didn’t manage to sleep at all. Aiden came in with two plates of food and two tankards of ale to find him pretending, face down on the mattress. “Come on, asshole. I got food and most of our promised coin for you… I also got a new gwent deck last month that I’m gonna kick your ass with.” “Like you could win without cheating me, pretty thing.” he forced himself up, toward the food that made him want to be sick with the thought of it on his tongue. He needed it. He knew it, Aiden knew it. Just like Aiden knew that he wouldn't win without cheating. “Let’s see about that.”

* Cats were unstable. Dangerous. They were as quick to change from laughter to anger as a summer sky was from blue to storm gray. Cats were not to be trusted. Every witcher and human child was taught that from the moment they could walk. Lambert was never good at following instructions. “Aiden?” The carnage was… extensive. A dozen bodies torn apart with the strength of a hurricane and the care of a starving drowner. “Aiden, love?” Endearments, true endearments, were rare to pass his lips. They meant one of two things- he was well fucked or he was scared out of his ever loving mind.He stepped over a butchered arm, half cut and then torn, towards the figure in the middle of the room. They had split six weeks before, Aiden going to take on a contract that Lambert wanted to know nothing about. He wasn't naive, he knew Aiden didn't have the same qualms he did about humans and human contracts but he had asked in their third year not to know about them. Aiden respected that. Aiden respected him.It was the blood that gave them the chance to meet then, so strong even from half a mile through the forest that Lambert was helpless not to investigate.  Cats are unstable. Their mutations make it inevitable that they’ll snap one day. His hand wrapped around the cat’s wrist, firm and without fear. He expected him to lash out, was willing to take whatever scar or pain that came in order to simply touch. To ensure that Aiden was real. That the frozen figure wasn’t a lie, a cruel trick played on his mind. Aiden turned, Lambert tensed, but the dagger in his cat's left hand dropped to the floor rather than bury itself in his chest; and Aiden collapsed against the wolf’s chest. He was soaked in blood, Lambert realized dimly. Not just covered but he was dripping in it. Aiden’s hair was matted with it and his blue armor hardly showed through the red. It was old- turning black and crusting. How long had he stood there? “I’ve got you, kitten.” the hand on his wrist shifted to hold the cat’s waist, Lambert raised his other hand raised to clasp Aiden's neck. A feeble attempt at making it all better. “I’ve got you.” Fourteen bodies. Most wore some sort of uniform, a lesser lordling’s colors or some shit but... some did not. There were three men in commoner clothes, a torn scrap of pale lilac fabric, and a small pair of shoes not unlike… Oh gods.  “What happened here?” This is Aiden. He’s yours, he's good. There’s a reason for this. Salt was in the air, nearly lost beneath the copper of blood, and the body in his arms began heaving with sobs.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”Cats feel too much. Lambert shifted his grip to half carry the other witcher outside, he needed away. He needed fresh air and dirt under his feet. He took the sobbing man around the back of the shack to a well where he could rip one of his undershirts into strips and begin to clean the blood and gore from the man’s skin. The armor, the clothes, they were lost causes but he could make sure that the only stain on his skin would be salt. He started with his hands, coaxing his fingers to uncurl with soft and even pressure. He took care around the nails, more than one of which were broken. Then up his arms with broader strokes. By the time he started on his neck the sobbing had quieted down to shuddering breaths, hiccups that ended before they finished. Ignoring his eyes which were red rimmed and half void of the emotions that wracked him so thoroughly just moments before, he was nearly calm.Lambert wiped at some splatter on his cheek. He tossed the cloth aside and took up another.

“Back with me, kitten?” He needed to be gentle. He had to be gentle for him.“Yeah.” His voice was like sandpaper.“Gonna tell me what happened?” Lambert asked, afraid of the answer.“... yeah.” Aiden swallowed, took a deep breath- shuddered and had to try again. Lambert waited. He could wait for Aiden. Only for Aiden. “Contract was for some kid- not to kill. No, gods no. Someone kidnapped a mayor’s daughter or a lord’s… I don’t know. Titles weren’t important. I just was supposed to find her and bring her back home but... but I tracked them up here after a few weeks. Gal had a lover and a kid no one knew about... I guess the dad's family couldn't stand a bastard kid running around or some shit and I thought that it would be easy to find her and she jus' would agree to keep it quiet but when I got here they were” his hands clenched, rage twisted his lips into a snarl but he didn't try to rise. “They were too distracted with her to realize I’d even gotten inside. They used her as a bargaining chip, Lam. She was half dead, held up here for all that time and... and they offered her to me. Like I was a- I didn’t kill her Lam, I didn’t touch her or that kid in there… that was all them. I tried so save them but it didn’t fucking matter and they... they... Please, please believe me that I wouldn’t- even as angry as I was I didn’t touch them. I didn’t do that to them. I tried. I didn't- I couldn't...” he was rambling, losing it once more and the longer he spoke the more rage built in Lambert’s chest.“I know you wouldn’t.” He pours every ounce of conviction into the words.“I blacked out, Lam. I… I don’t remember it all but I wouldn’t have” he was breathing fast again- panicking. He was losing him again. “I know, kitten. You wouldn’t. I know that, you know that. You’re too good for that, love.” He dragged the cloth over his eyelids, gentle, and then he tossed it into the bucket. He was as clean as he could be without a full bath. “Do you want me to burn it all?”“No, the girl and the kid. They deserve better. I’ll make a pyre for them if you’ll deal with the others.”“I can do that.”So Lambert gently squeezed the cat’s hands, kissed his forehead, heedless of the blood in his hair, and set to work.

* As the days grew colder the men took to curling tighter around each other’s bodies. They were only a month off the incident when Aiden set his lips against Lambert’s neck and said“I love you.”It wasn’t the first time the Cat had said those words but Lambert brought clasped hands up to his lips and whispered against them, for the first time.“Love you too, kitten.” Find more of my work on Ao3

[silverhyenaart]

Alright, I'm fairly new to the "Reader Insert" style of writing, but I thought I'd give it a try. So, I have yet to do a little sketch of Lester (I did draw his two brothers,) However, I did have this idea for a sick-fic, where Lester finds the reader on the side of the road. Now, I wrote this with a female reader in mind but please feel free to imagine it any way you see fit.

Roadside Attraction Part #1

No one would ever argue that the tiny, reclusive town of Ambrose was a quiet place. The occasional group of tourists or stranded motorists made for some excitement, but there hadn't been any new visitors in over a month.

A crooked smile crossed Lester's face as his old truck ambled along the backroads.The morning was still plenty young. Bo was more than likely sleeping off a night of one too many beers. Vincent was surely working on The House of Wax's next great masterpiece in his basement studio lair. That left Lester to do what he loved. Gather up the roadkill! However... the youngest Sinclair was about to get more than he ever could have bargained for.

"Still plenty cool outside, huh Daisy?" Lester muttered, scratching at his flannel shirt pocket, "hopefully we git some meat befer the sun ruins it."

He was answered by a curious chiding as the tiny raccoon in his pocket peaked out.

There were so many things besides the animal carcasses on the side of the road. And while yes, half of a deer that had yet to be tainted by maggots and Louisiana heat was indeed a fine prize to return home with, Lester had also found the occasional wad of cash, various coins, jewelry, and his personal favorite, the woodland creatures that he'd take home and foster. (Always making them promise that they'd stay away from the roads before releasing them back into the wild.)

But instead of the usual gorey animal corpse splattered in the road or abandoned wrecked vehicle, Lester saw what was unmistakably a human body in the ditch near a heavily wooded stretch of road. Your body!

The brakes of the rickety old truck screeched on the pavement. Quickly, Lester put the truck in reverse, stopping as close to your prone form as possible. There was no telling how long you'd been left out there in the Louisiana backwoods, but it was obvious that you'd been severely mistreated before being dumped out here. In fact, one could have easily written you off as dead. Bruised, dried blood caking in places, old, sour vomit in the grass near your mouth, and your wrists bound behind your back tightly with course rope.

"Well Daisy, ain't sure there's nothin' more ta do then give 'er ta Vinny," Lester mused, quietly as he examined what he thought was your corpse, "Poor thing, won't do no good no how bringin' er to the pit. Sure Vinny'll fix 'er up real nice."

When his hand touched your hip to turn you over for a better look, that's when a weak moan escaped your chapped lips and your eye cracked open. Lester jumped back a little in surprise. You were still alive! Albeit in dreadful shape. But breathing nevertheless.

"Hey... hey there now. This ain't no place fer a nice young lady like ya ta be," Lester said, reaching for the Bowie knife on his belt.

Upon seeing the glint of steel in the morning light, your unfocused eyes widened in fear. With your entire body feeling like a led weight, struggling was impossible. After spending an entire day out here in your already terrible condition, just moving made you feel like your already empty stomach was going to purge once more.

Then the ropes binding your wrists snapped, giving your painfully raw skin welcome relief. Dirty yet gentle hands helped you to your feet. While it was difficult to focus, you could tell that your rather smelly but kind-hearted guardian angel was one of those backwoods redneck sorts. If anything, his accent alone gave it away.

"That's it now, com'n, sweat pea, I-I'ma take ya somewhere safe."

Lester helped you to his truck's passenger side, letting you lean heavily against him. He smiled, having been unable to recall the last time he'd had a woman of any sort willingly be this close to him. Usually it was his big brother who got the pretty ladies.

"Y-you can jus' call me Lester, now, darlin'," your rescuer continued.

As Lester guided you toward his beat up old pickup and opened up the passenger side door, you could feel your already upset stomach doing flip flops. You stumbled a little, clinging to this man as though he were your only remaining life line... and then your body betrayed you.

You trembled, eyes wide with horror, able to make out that you'd just thrown up all over your savior. Before you could squeak out an apology, you were doubled over as more bile forced itself out of your already sore throat, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

"W-well now, sweat pea, better ta git it out now..." shrugged Lester, taking a red handkerchief out of his back pocket and handing it to you.

Even after you'd accidentally barfed all over him, this man was still taking care of you. Once you were cleaned up a little, Lester grabbed a very messy towel out of his truck and wiped himself off. Daisy peaked out of his pocket, quickly retreating back to safety when you let out a low groan.

"S-sorry m-mister..." you rasped, nearly staggering to the ground you were so weak.

"I-it's alright. You ain't hurtin' no one... jus' git it out," Lester said, "That's it, now."

He hesitated at first, then began to gently rub your back and hold your hair out of the way. You couldn't lie to yourself, it felt good. The first bit of tenderness you've been shown in a long time.

Once you were through purging your painfully empty stomach, Lester gave you some lukewarm water from a questionable looking plastic bottle and helped you into the passenger seat. It wasn't until he closed the door that your tired eyes noticed that there was no way to open it from the inside nor was there any means to roll down the window.

Was this man actually helping you or taking this opportunity to kidnap you? At this point, you were too sick and exhausted to care.

Another crooked grin crossed Lester's face as he scratched his little raccoon's head. After settling into the driver's seat, he checked on you again before the old truck's engine rumbled to life.

"Don'cha worry none, sweat pea. I'ma take ya home a-an' gitcha somethin' ta make ya feel better. "

Home... you didn't have one anymore. Slowly, you nodded your head, leaning against the dirty window before closing your eyes.

* * *

Yes, I love the idea that Lester takes care of orphaned baby woodland critters he finds on the side of the road. A lovely individual in the discord group I'm in suggested it and told me to roll with it so I did! (Daisy seemed like the perfect cute redneck name so there's that!)

I do plan to make more parts and post the whole thing to my AO3. The stinky roadkill man deserves love! He also strikes me as the friendliest of the three Sinclair brothers.

[of-tatooine]

honor him. | chapter 1 - wolf to man

sword practice takes a turn as tensions rise under the gray skies of the Flooded District.

Ego homini lupus.

Man is wolf to man. The dark, twisted, plague-ridden world you had to be a part of brought this brutal law of nature to the spotlight - in all of its twisted ways man could think of.

Sometimes it took form in letting swarms of rats crawl and devour a poor soul in a matter of minutes, only leaving the gut-wrenching sounds of human tissue getting chewed on while you watched and did not lift a single finger to rescue the man. It was just the way the world worked, the way the cogs turned and clicked. It had been a challenge to shut down your sense of pity and helpfulness as a good human being - when your entire life revolved around killing and letting it be killed, finding time for remorse did not come so easy between the death contracts.

Often times it was a bloody blade twisting in yet another soul’s heart, tearing arteries and ribs apart. Traveling to the deepest, grittiest corners of the once-great city of Dunwall, slicing countless noble and Weeper throats for coin that would only be enough to barely get by, days and days of living on cold and ruthless rooftops to scout for missions had all shown you many horrors that your humankind could commit. In times of distress, of misery and sometimes, times when one succumbs to selfish intentions.

This time, the simple combination of Latin words was showing its' gnarly thorns into killing an Empress.

The piercing sound of steel clashing steel echoed through the bricks and the damaged rooftops as it got mixed with the filtered huffs and groans thrown in the duel through the whaler masks. He pressed on with another attack, taking a quick forward step along with a low groan of effort as he threw out an expert dash that would have taken your dainty little beating heart out of your chest if you had not anticipated it, a little spark flying out as your trusted blade clashed against his yet again.  

The shadows in your hands became prominent, engulfing your fingers with the familiar warmth of smoke and magic until the sensation was blocked. The dark but enticing songs of the whales muted for the time being, powers taken away from you momentarily as the cool and cold surface of the steel felt harsh against your palms again.

“Flesh and steel. The way I trained you,” the Knife of Dunwall sneered, almost reprimanding you, a familiar spark of adrenaline in his darkened eyes.

A man of enigmas stood before you wielding a knife, but there was only one certain truth eminent on him - when Daud fought, it had been with the only intention of killing.

The man rose strong yet scarred from the slums when all odds were against him, killing to fight for his life, later for coin, for reputation and much to your gratefulness, to keep his underlings alive and fed and equipped. It had been easy to him, taking lives as he did not even bother for a split second to watch the light dim out in their eyes, blood washing over his leather overcoat and steel only to dry off till the next target appeared in his eyesight. Whoever saw the Knife in front of their mere mortal eyes, with his blade drawn and ready, begged to pay him tenfold whatever his patron paid, collapsed without a hint of pride left.

Only this time, there was something else lurking in there, some sort of unknown. Uncertainty reflecting off of his irises as they met yours on the opposite sides of locked steel, neighbored by the reflection of the old and battered down Rudshore Financial buildings.  Almost as if those dark eyes of his were looking for answers to questions you could not fathom, questions you did not dare ask yourself in the first place.

The shadow magic unavailable from your disposal for the time being, you fueled your pent up adrenaline into a violent push to break out of the agonizing lock, sending your Master’s blade slide off of yours with a screeching sound from the friction.

Taking a step back and catching your breath, the blade was flipped with years ease in your hands as you watched his movements - taking in every step, every little reflex, even the single movement of his fingers clasping the metal handle. The two of you moved in accustomed unison, albeit on opposite sides, like two wolves circling in the snow, waiting to bite each other’s throats off but only waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The Serkonan scanned your every movement with his rugged but dangerously handsome face - you knew he knew your next ten steps, what you wanted for dinner, and then some. His moves and tricks were no surprise to you either, after all, you had been by his right hand, under his wing for many painful years.

Locked in that tense moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and knuckles almost white from all that clutching, you lunged forward in a swift but graceful attack which got countered by none other than the blade master himself and a series of slashes, groans and sickening clangs began echoing in the air.

What had been an ordinary daily sword practice on the rooftops of the Flooded District had turned into the rather interesting sparring of the Knife of Dunwall against one of his most-trusted lieutenants. Whalers knelt and stood on surrounding buildings, some watching behind the brick remnants of destroyed walls, some choosing the more traditional approach and staying on the rooftops. Wherever the Whalers were, it did not matter - there was only one focal point, one spectacle to follow.

“Is the old man trying to kill her or something?” the assassin clad in navy leather spoke in a surprised tone beneath the mask. “Always thought Daud had a soft spot for her - how did this happen?”

The woman clad in red leather shrugged, with her arms crossed, eyes dead focused on the clinging blades further down below, following every moment and every flick of the leather-covered wrists. “Daud knows what he is doing,” she spoke, sounding fairly confident in contrast to the fact that, frankly, Billie Lurk did not have an inkling of an idea of what fueled the almost emotional duel she was witnessing.

Sure, it was common occurrence for Daud to try one of the assassins in a duel every now and then, but the magic running through her veins sourced by none other than her Master himself told another tale - he was desperate. As if he was looking for a way out, or for someone to reassure him. Someone to tell him that everything would fall into place in the end. A trapped soul he was, signals of doubt lingering in the ebbs and flows.

The Daud she knew never crumbled against the unknown.

Panting mixed in with angry throes of war with the side of sickening metal clashes were all you could hear as your footwork did not let you down for the time being.

By the time you could count the ways you fought against Daud, it would take you an entire trip around the Isles and maybe more. After all, he had been the one to pull you out from the gutter, from the decrepit, bloodfly-infested back alleys of the slums of Karnaca. Taught you how to slit your first throat in exchange for money. Sailed across the Isles and brought you to capital of the Empire, where he trained you relentlessly. Told you how to exploit the weaknesses of each and every victim. How to find the shady stuff under everyone’s name, even the cleanest, the most noble. How to stick a blade in one rich bastard in the Estate District to please another rich bastard somewhere else, long as gleaming coin went in your pouch at the end of the day. How to confront the most dangerous, most reckless and the most wanted of Dunwall - only equipped with one of his old swords he had stolen from the Grand Guard.

“Always go for the head,” he had always said as his leather-clad hands tutored yours, teaching you the ruthless ways of fighting. The feel of that calloused texture still fresh under your fingertips.

True to his advice, that was exactly what he did to send you reeling back in a loud groan - his undefeated blade knocking yours out of your grip in a sharp flick of his large hand, sending it sprawling against the old bricks and cement.

Your panting and aching body was then left without a solid defense, he seized the opportunity as well as any - the cold hard steel rested dangerously on your covered throat, the victorious master assassin’s larger frame close to yours as his dark eyes sparked in some sort of emotion you could not discern. Shivers running down your body, a lump in your throat so evident it made the blade angle as a defeated gulp passed through.

It was as if the world had stopped. You wondered if this is what being summoned to the Void felt like - cold, uninviting, tiring, frightening, daunting. Unknown and unexplored. He had told you about his encounters with the black-eyed bastard once, years after when he first received the wretched mark on his left hand that seemed to haunt him in his nightmares to every single dawn.

Now it seemed to be that Daud himself was recreating the Void for you, for all of the eyes to watch as the Whalers held their breaths.

“You better not fight like this when we take the Empress,” Daud scolded you, his fierce eyes locked into yours even through the covers that your whaler mask provided. As his mouth uttered the last word, your entire body was begging you to give up, to collapse as your heart dropped. Your body under the heavy tactical gear stood as rigid as can be, though, even with a blade looming on your precious neck and all you could give to your mentor as an answer was a short nod.

Was this one of those usual duels he would pick up with you just to show the other Whalers what failure could cost them? Beat you on purpose, take the shared powers away from you for the duration of the fight so that the others would train like they would die in the next hour?

No - this had been a message for you. Every single footstep he took as he advanced on you, every little spark that flew into thin air as metal hit metal.

Much to your demise, the Knife of Dunwall knew you to your core. By the Void, he could piece together details about you that the old soul of the Outsider maybe did not even consider looking for.

Daud knew this one contract, the biggest job his Whalers were asked to pull off would strike a nerve deep within you, hit a buried spot concealed within your emotions, your morals and memories. The same spot in him that was struck, that made him do a double-take on the grand scheme of things, what they implied. What this particular death implied.

It terrified him, as much as it terrified you. He knew the mere prospect of it, considering the looming deadline as you steadily approached into Month of Earth, shook you to the very core. It was natural instinct for you to read through his irises, but some experience to see the hesitance lay in them.

“Understood, sir,” your throat gave out in a hoarse voice filtered through the mask, your head tilted upwards to his towering figure as he grew satisfied with the answer, loosening his grip on the blade slowly, then sheathing it to the holster on his belt with habituated ease. Your chest heaved with deep, lingering breaths as the remnants of the adrenaline emptied themselves in your veins, slowly dissipating after the sparring. The man in front of you tilted his muscular neck, as the mark on his left hand glowed orange ever-so-visible even through his thick gloves as he raised his palm lightly - making the familiar warmth of power surge through you once again, the return of the bond making you gasp lightly, finding some sort of much-needed comfort as you nodded your thanks.

With yet one more stare thrown your way, his jaw clenched as his feet carried him across the rooftops away from your figure, walking in between his assassins, his loyal gang of misfits and killers alike. Taking this as a signal that practice for the day being was over, the Whalers began to vanish into the shadow one by one, leaving a more vast, open sight of the gray skies contrasting the beige-white ruins of what once used to be a booming financial hub.

It was at that moment of defeat that your weakened body fell on the knees next to your sword, millions of possible scenarios filled with blood and screams running through your mind. Head leaning forward as you breathed in and out, in an attempt to calm yourself down.

And it was at that moment when your heart and body and mind fell in unison - you could never spill the blood of an Empress, even if the man who swore to protect your life ordered you to.

[sasorikigai]

[handsy] [laughing kiss] [thigh touch] "You're so beautiful, inside and out, and never fail to make me smile, my fire rose." (( for MK2021 Scorpion. Yang is overjoyed and happy to spoil him this time. She shall take care of him. ))

Some sexual tension / attraction prompts || @yetremains || accepting

[handsy] - Our muses make out and fumble with one another whilst fully clothed.

[laughing kiss] - Your muse kisses mine whilst laughing. Maybe they bumped noses, clacked teeth, or are generally giggly. Intimacy can be funny!

[thigh touch] - Your muse slides their hand slowly up my muse’s thigh, gazing at them the entire time to gauge their response.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || You and I - we are two sides of the same coin, same pain, same fear, same face I see in the mirror. Yet when I peer through our similarities, to find something different, something that separates us, I see you are younger; brave and loud, and I am elder; small and weak. Scorpion muses, as their clothed bodies entangle without any give between them, lest their searching, desperate limbs fumble as to his sense of reverence and admiring becomes unfiltered, oozing from the quiet solace of his meditation. A smallest fissure in Scorpion’s proverbial solemnity and gravitas as the mask slips off from his handsome face, lest there be painted madness sprung in frenzy of swirling wreathes of stubborn hellfire clinging onto him. It is magic - an equilibrium touch of force and power, along with tender mellowness that solidifies the siege of love, the ecstasy of longing, and in the end, the muted throbbing of silence after being spent in exquisite delirium. 

Scorpion doesn’t have a promise to make while his metaphorical existence is vanishing; wanton in sheer abandon, as they touch one another gently until the universe flows just beneath their skin, nerves fibrillating with every caress, as the galaxies of their lips will set fire to the conjoined cosmos of their being. They were not only threaded with resplendent, cleansed potency of fire, but they were also capable of sweetly making love with the power of supernova. Such series of unanticipated touch shifts Scorpion’s armor pieces and layered tunics below, and how he willingly relinquishes one of his senses for it, as the fluttering eyelids close, his long lashes batting as the sensual darkness only heightens the sensations, sending goosebumps down his spine. 

How eternal fires wish within a falling star as it falls across the beautiful skies of Talia Jones’ loving, gorgeous eyes, and it gently lands within the lovely sunrise. How Scorpion wishes to see and hear her, and wants to be with her forever and a tender evermore - to explore the depths of her body, heart, and soul, and call them home, because within her heart is where he wishes to roam. Nearing impossible dreams, as his being literally and metaphorically unfurl beyond perception, how Scorpion’s cascading warmth emits feverish heat from the deepest reserve of his core, while his wanton abandon expresses ocean waves of mirth and mischievous tug. 

He cozies her up to his own fire, phantasmal and pristine, as once enormous difficulty of his expression shifts the steeled muscle of his facial features. Curled lips and geniality reaching to etch deep into his large, expressive eyes, Scorpion feels, once tepid, arid desert of his heart stills with effulgent swirl of dizzying effulgence, as he revels in the autumn of his expression blazes further passion as soulfire flames with glee. How her sweeping music seeps into his starved, desiccated skin, fueling the roots of his thoughts. Lifting his chest from the weights of the cruelty of the world and speaking to him through the words of his ancestors, surrounding him in lights of carmine and gold. 

“I hope you can find a home in the demolished chambers of my heart; it may sustain its function and beats for me, but it lives singularly for you,” Hanzo Hasashi may be a beautiful piece of broken pottery, put back together by his own scorching hands. And a critical world may judge his cracks, while missing the beauty of how he made himself whole again thanks to Yang’s resplendent, evermore giving light. As a single merging of lips fold into tens and hundreds more, how Scorpion has found his inner magnificence, painting to color his charred black canvas. Soon, the tangled limbs in bedsheets will lend themselves skin on skin, hearts fused together as the construct of time will still, while the heated breaths will act as conduit to Scorpion’s own exploding release, as streams of floating lanterns of his reverent gaze will become the pillar of fire, fueling Yang’s exquisite being as they continue to write a new narrative, a new connection.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[tinydragonstories]

Heat vs Steele Pt 3

Masterpost

Logan doesn’t see the other prince until later in the morning when he’s found marveling over the extensive library that Logan’s ancestors had built years before he was even conceived. 

“Your father said I might find you here, Logan. I wasn’t expecting it to be the other way around” The tanned boy sends a bright smile over to him, which Logan promptly ignores. Instead, he goes over to a shelf to examine the books for a suitable title. 

Roman pouts at the lack of reaction and comes up behind him, leaning over his shoulder a bit to peek at the book’s title. Logan turns and jumps back against the shelf in surprise, eyes wide and locked on Roman, his book clutched to his chest. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I was just curious about what you chose!” Roman puts his hands up and backs off. Strange… 

Logan merely retreats to the couch and sits down, opening his book to start reading. He can hear Roman sit next to him and try engaging him in conversation numerous times, but his only response are one word or quick answers. He manages to get to the rising action before Roman stops talking altogether. It isn’t long until a sly hand slides up his chest to his chin and gently  tilts his head to face endearing, brown eyes, Roman’s free hand sneaking a bookmark in and snatching his book. 

“Roman, I would appreciate if you gave that back.” 

“But then I wouldn’t have these lovely star-filled galaxies looking at me,” Logan feels his heart skip a beat, but hides any indication. 

“Won’t you forgive the intrusion this morning? I’m only here to make you happy!” Roman smiles softly and Logan finds himself wanting to freeze time for a moment longer before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mi amour, you’ve entranced my heart with your whole being. Tell me, what can I do to prove myself worthy of your affections?” Roman leans closer to him, barely taking Logan’s hand as the one on his chin moves to his cheek. 

“You can leave me alone!” Logan shoves him off and flees to his room, scratching at the itch on his covered arms. Servants dodge out of his way when they see his expression and the guards don’t try to stop him, despite their orders to keep the two together. He locks the door behind him and shouts for Virgil as he rips his shirt off as fast as he could, scratching at the scales growing on his shoulders and back. He’s soon relieved by a cold, wet cloth gently rubbing at them and he lowers his arms.

“Something got you riled up. Was it that prince? I bet it was.” He can practically hear the grin Virgil was surely portraying as he rolls his eyes.

“He attempted to kiss me.” 

“Already? He should know that courting law states that PDA is forbidden.”

“We were alone, Virgil. In the library.” 

“Oo! He’s got taste!” “Sir Virgil!” Logan tries to twist and look at him but the cloth pressing against his neck prevents any harsh words. 

“I knighted you, and I can take it back!” he shivers, despite his words as the cloth trails down his back.

“But you won’t~” Virgil sing-songs and rubs at the newer scales,” you’ve mentioned that you don’t want anyone else hearing about your ailment and it definitely helps that I was there when it was inflicted, so just relax and let me help you.” 

Logan grumbles but allows Virgil to continue rubbing his dead skin off of his -no, the- scales so it was less uncomfortable on the prince. He sighs in relief and Virgil chuckles,” do you want me to redo your chest and upper arms?”

“If you don’t mind. I believe some dust might have gotten under one and it’s quite noticeable.”

“Yeah, okay, Dictionary. I gotcha.” Logan rolls his eyes at Virgil’s nickname and turns around so he can work on Logan’s chest. They sit in silence as Virgil works, watching pieces of dead skin fall off the deep blue scales. 

“Look, Lo, I know you aren’t having the best of times dealing with this, but at least they’re a pretty color, right?”

“Yes, they’re aesthetically pleasing, I suppose.” He sighs and looks away towards the window. He could see the forest spread out over his father’s land, past the rolling hills of farmland and pastures. The sun was high above the treeline, causing the deep green to brighten in the light. Shadows fled from the light of day and Logan finds himself understanding the tactical retreat.

‘Opposites, such a strange concept’, thought Logan,’ one can’t exist without the other, yet they’re constantly at ends with the other. What makes them opposites? What dictated that light and darkness could not coexist? Why must one always be smaller than the other? Candles and shadows, so different yet so similar at the same time.’

He looks out at the light and imagines what it must be like for the shadows suddenly pinned to objects and people. He imagines what his own shadow thinks, the dismay it must feel when the sun peeks over the horizon and it must return to his side to survive the day.  Does the light feel the same? Was it leashed to candles and torches during the night? Clinging to humanity for dear life as without the fire, it would die? He felt his mind start itching for answers that he would never receive. 

“Lo, you’re doing the thing again. Kinda weird dude.” Logan blinks and suddenly he’s back in his room, back with Virgil, and back in that insufferable situation with Roman. 

“You alright?”

“Yes, Virgil, I am adequate. Would you retrieve the corset from the wardrobe?” Logan pulls his shirt back on and buttons it up. 

“You’re going to dress up?!”

“I’m going to attempt to divert his affections. If it does not work, I will be mildly uncomfortable at worst. If it does, he will leave by tomorrow morning.” The prince watches as his personal guard comes back and starts tying the laces with expert fingers

“Alright, Lo. I trust you.” Logan’s breath is stolen as the corset suddenly tightens around his stomach,” though I fail to see how thinning your waist is going to remedy the problem.”

What if it only made Roman try harder? 

Logan’s silent for a moment,” I’m not sure. All I know is that he touched my waist when we were alone and I did not enjoy his burning touch.”

“Logan, he’s human, not a fire elemental.”

“I know, Virgil. It doesn’t make sense for his touch to have been that warm nor for my skin to tingle after I retreated-“

“Ran away.”

“Retreated. It was a tactical retreat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Lover Boy. Get out there and annoy that pesky prince,” Virgil chuckles and steps back to allow Logan to move once more. 

“I assure you, Virgil, I have no interest-“ the guard interrupts him by shoving him out of the room and locking the door behind them.

“It doesn’t matter if you do or not. He clearly holds something for you and I’m going to make sure his pretty little fingers stay off of my crown prince.”

“Logan, my darling!”

Both males groan inwardly and look at each other at the sound of the foreign prince. 

“I have aquired flowers to apologize for my actions in the library. I hope you accept these as a token of my affections and deepest apologies.” Bluebells were lifted above Roman’s head as the prince kneels at Logan’s feet,” I noticed you seem to like blue, so I went to find the bluest flowers I could pick for you!”

“Roman, -Virgil stop growling at him- I accept your apology, however I ask that you give these to maidens in the town as I am mildly allergic to their pollen.” Logan gently pushes down the flowers and watches Roman lift his head, locking eyes with him. 

The prince grins and nods eagerly,” of course! I will return to your side as quickly as I can, mi amour!” 

Logan nods,” then you are free to go.”

Roman races off with the flowers, practically skipping, and Logan chuckles in light amusement. 

“You never told me you were allergic to bluebells.” Virgil looks up at him suspiciously and Logan shrugs. 

“I must have developed it rather recently then.”

Virgil laughs and shakes his head,” if you wanted him gone, you could’ve just said so. No need to get his hopes up with this.”

“Now, I never said that I wanted him to leave quite yet. I’m rather starting to enjoy this game of chess he’s started. He’s not entirely bad at it either, quite the opponent.” 

“Logan, was that your way of saying you’re interested?” Virgil stifles a chuckle as the prince sputters in indignation. 

“Absolutely not! What ever gave you that idea?!” 

“Okay, Logan, calm down. I was just teasing! Let’s go see your father, I believe he’s looking for you.”

Logan’s fire calms down and he leads Virgil away to the throne room, his guard jabbing at the metaphorical buttons that he knew Logan would react to. The guards allowed them through the doors and Logan kneels at the King’s feet,” yes, father, what did you need me for?”

“Logan, I can see that this is taking much too long. Tell me, how much do you know about Prince Roman?” 

Logan narrows his eyes suspiciously,” not much, admittedly, except that he’s a major flirt.” 

‘And a massive thorn in my side’

“Ah, so I was correct. We will need to speed this courting up so I will be hosting a kingdom-wide ball for you two. The nobles and fellow royalty will be attending so you’ll be attending to their children.” 

“Must I, father? You know how I hate their ideas of small talk.” 

“Yes, Logan, and you will be wearing the suit that the tailor makes. I’m thinking red on white with a black embellishment.” He looks Logan over and holds his hand up to silence his protests,” I’ve been lenient enough with you, this ball is a chance for you to build relations with the other kingdoms despite your current hold over them all. Yes, they currently owe Elmaria a debt from the winter, but that could change with a flip of Fate’s coin. Your best bet is to build strong relations with other countries so you have aid if the kingdom needs it.” No 

“I understand, but as you know, I am inadequate when it comes to social situations. I am severely behind the others when it comes to the social aspect of ruling.” Logan stands and brushes himself off. 

“That’s why I allowed Roman to court you. For where you are weak, he is strong. He is incredible at social events and loves the spotlight whereas you tend to be more of a background, technical character. The matchup is perfect!” 

“Father, he is also quite annoying. He has not left my side since last night and is most likely waiting outside this room for me.” 

“So you feel because of him?” The king smirks and Logan quickly corrects himself.

“I never said that. He merely makes it difficult to accomplish my allotted duties and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Alright, whatever you say, son. You’re dismissed.” 

Logan bows once more and walks back before leaving the room, the oaken doors closing behind him. The king smiles softly and shakes his head,” that boy…”

Logan sighs softly once the doors shut behind him and looks up at the prince standing there waiting for him,” Roman, I see you’ve returned.”

“I could not keep myself from your side for much longer, my dear. Come, allow me to make up for the loss of time.” He takes Logan’s hand and barely manages to press a kiss to the back of it before it’s ripped from his grasp. Logan holds it behind his back and sighs through his nose,” I suppose we should make it seem like we tolerate each other’s presence. Where would you like to go? We have the gardens, the castle, the forest, plains, and-”

“Mi amour, I only wish to stay by your side.” Roman smiles tenderly at him and Logan rolls his eyes.

”Alright, I get it,” Roman chuckles,” how about we go horseback riding in the forest? Perhaps we will stumble upon an adventure and fall in love along the journey!” 

“The likelihood of that occurring is too low to consider, but fine. We will go horseback riding and plan something else for this afternoon.” Logan walks with Roman back to the guest’s suite and bids him farewell for the moment before returning to his chambers. 

“How’d it go with princey?” 

Logan jumps at the voice behind him before relaxing,” Virgil, why do you insist on scaring me every time I enter this room? Anyway, it went alright. He apologized and insisted we go horseback riding in the forest. You-” 

“Will be coming along,” Virgil gives him a look of respected hostility and Logan chuckles a breathy laugh.

“Of course, I would not be able to attend without you at my side.” He stands still as Virgil unties the ribbons and removes his corset to allow Logan to breathe. His servant rushes around to gather his riding clothes as Logan undresses himself and lays out his previous outfit on the bed. Virgil returns to his side and helps dress the prince for his ride in a white tunic, tan riding pants, a blue vest and a generic brown cloak. Logan sits and starts tying his boots as Virgil switches his own outfit out for a dark aesthetic and a black mask that covers his lower face. 

“Virgil, I don’t really think this is necessary. You’ll overheat and we’ll have to return early.” 

The guard thinks for a moment and takes off his dark coat. 

“I assume that’s the best answer I’ll receive. Come, let’s collect Roman.” Logan leads Virgil out the door and down the hall a bit to the guest suites where Roman was waiting for them outside his room with Patton by his side. They exchange cordial greetings and Roman kisses Logan’s hand again before the (barely) taller of the two leads them all to the stables, his answers to Roman’s prodding statements quick and to the point. 

“My dear, where are we going?” 

“Simply down a path my family enjoys taking when we need a moment to think. It’s nothing special, really. Why do you ask?” 

“I was wondering if it was necessary for our servants to come along. I was originally going to have Patton remain behind but asked him to come along when I saw yours coming.” Logan notices his eyes flick nervously to Virgil, who’s listening to Patton, but clearly keeping an eye on the two royals. 

“Virgil’s presence is always required when I leave the castle, however Patton’s is not if you wish to allow him to remain behind.” 

Roman looks back at the servant and quietly asks what he’d like to do. Virgil and Roman switch places unintentionally and the guard looks up at his charge,” what’s our pathing for this ride?” 

“Just a quick trot down the normal path -you should know it well enough by now- and we’ll turn around before we reach the old castle. The first one that the royal family built after staking their claim on the land.” 

Virgil nods and is silent for a moment,” you aren’t afraid he’ll find, you know, your place?” 

“Virgil, how likely is it that you’re going to allow us anywhere near those old ruins? We’ll be perfectly safe and he won’t see anything of importance. Besides, it's in the tower and he’ll clearly see that it’s unsafe to proceed across the drawbridge.” 

“Drawbridge? My love, are we going to see your country’s first castle?!” Roman beams and looks at Logan with hopeful, bright eyes. 

“Yes, you know of it?” He looks over at the other in curiosity,” I was not aware others knew of it.” 

“Of course I know of it! I studied your country’s history so I could have something to discuss with you if we needed a topic. Besides, it’s such a rich, passionate history, it was more like reading a fairytale! The castle was known as the world’s most impenetrable fortress as every attack was absorbed and returned tenfold by the ballistas and archers hidden behind the trapdoors that protected them from any incoming fire. The moat used to be filled with seawater and your ancestors made a pact with the merpeople that allowed them to swim in the moat to defend against any foot soldiers in exchange for land materials they wouldn’t otherwise be able to access. It’s said that one day the child of the Lightheart family will return and bring forth a power hidden inside its walls so powerful, it can raze an entire country!” 

Logan and Virgil share a worried glance before turning their attention back to Roman,” I see you’ve done your research. Yes, we are visiting that very castle, however we will not be able to cross the moat. The drawbridge is raised and it isn’t safe to cross the waters after the merpeople went back to the sea.” 

“I see, then we must at least explore the surrounding land! Perhaps there are secret passageways leading to the interior that were never discovered!” Roman tugs Logan along down the hall faster and their servants had to run to keep up. 

Logan’s hand went to his circlet to ensure it remained where it was and trips over his own feet trying to keep up with the enthusiastic prince. They slow down once they reach the stables and a stable hand brings the two horses out to the princes while another brings two others for Virgil and Patton. Logan’s was black and had a crescent moon between her eyes while Roman’s was pure white. Virgil’s dapple grey mare nips at Patton’s creme steed. Each rider takes the reins of their mount and swings up into the saddle. Roman practically bouncing in the saddle at the prospect of their destination. Logan ensures everyone is situated before clicking his tongue and riding out the gates with his small group behind him.

[ardenssolis]

@swordrisen​ said (inbox):

❛❛ You remember , right ? ❜❜ Thus , does the dust depart ( the remains of battle ever present 'pon the earth , the sun settles with dawn & the crimson weaves , servants bloody & wounded. ) It is many who begin to disappear , in the removal of their limbs , the gutting of their bodies ; copper , how it does indeed taint the earth with a coin's smell ( her soul twists , aching. ) She , too , is a mess of wounds & incoming death ( her eye torn from its place , devoured by the beast to which they fought ; her breathing rattles , her insides are ever close to spilling forth. ) Yet , she is still standing ( a little longer , does she beg the body ; until she speaks with him. ) Faintly , she can hear , surrounding her ever so , the sobs ( among them , is the master crying too ? ) As friends depart for now , until they answer their call again ; is the master crying for them now ? They need not , but the master has always been so gentle. 

A step taken , a few tumbled ( left arm departs , falling 'pon the earth. ) She splatters crimson , coughing it strongly ( she is but magic & dust , surely , this foolish pain is the delusion of clinging to her humanity ; she would release it , if only to protect them. ) Risen head , smile ever shaky as she breathes. ❛❛ Please , when you find that person worthy to protect ---- ❜❜ She stumbles again , legs ever trembling. ❛❛ Please , protect them. ❜❜ Even in her end , once again she cannot release the blade ( but her body does drop , falling again his chest , again his heart. ) Surely , he will still laugh ( as the sun does not die because the sky becomes cloudy ; she is but one of thousands he has encountered , there are to be no regrets as she fades in wisteria. ) 

❛❛ But , ❜❜ It's a lingering desire , built in her eyes ( tears cloud them , her heart aches again. ) She's had too much fun by his side , truly , he's spoiled her with laughter & warmth. ❛❛ when we are reborn as humans , let's meet again , even if it's under a cloudy sky ! ❜❜ As do the others , many from her time , they break & fade ( surely , they will be called forth again so sorrow is needless. ) [ GIVES YOU SOFT EARLIER ONLY TO PUNT YOU WITH PAIN uwu ]

     BLOODY CONFLICTS LIKE THIS one were not wholly uncommon, but things had intensified from how they had been. The places they appeared only fought that much more fierce, but was that not a given considering their very society was in jeopardy? If they had merely rolled over and died, then Ozymandias would have thought them weak. The ‘Kings’ that overlooked their stalled progress would not be worthy of that title be they tyrants, gods, or otherwise. Servants who had been slain began to dissipate, those unable to hold onto their form disappearing as well as their bodies finally gave into the strain of clinging to their temporary existence while so wounded. Was this really a victory when their number was cut so severely? And just by two enemy Servants at that? Alas, fighting against those closest to the realms of the Divine than mere individuals like Ozymandias and Koto put them on a wholly different level of power and strength. Even still…he knew that their summoner mourned. Blamed themselves, probably, for this bloody outcome.

     They did not need to, though.

     Koto and the others had chosen this path knowing where it could potentially end. That just left Ozymandias and another Servant to continue things – to make sure that sacrifice was not in vain even if that too meant that they must do the same if push came to shove. As long as there was victory, then let those who were already dead perish once more in glory. Past sins could not change their histories or their stories, but at least in this case…

     Tired golden eyes met with Koto’s, brows furrowed slightly, yet he did well to keep his expression under some semblance of control (he did not wish to ruin her heroic sacrifice with a melancholic stare). As soon as she stumbled, he reached out to steady her – hands quick to grip her shoulders and allow her form to lean against his own. ❝Fool of a woman, do not talk as if this is our last time meeting. I will not allow it.❞ There was no need for goodbyes when it came to beings like them. Only, ‘we will meet again one day.’ That was the only response he would accept, for it spoke not of finality, but of a continuation – a cycle. Arms soon wrapped around her form when it seemed her legs were struggling to keep her standing even more, her form already beginning to fade. ❝But you need not worry yourself over me or what will happen after you pass on.❞

     He had already found someone worthy.

     Their Master had grown considerably from where he could recall they had been. Despite the trauma they carried, despite having to hold the very foundation of the world upon their shoulders as the last wall between humanity’s continued existence and nothingness, they kept going on. Even now as they wept, he knew they would do just this. If anyone needed the light of the sun, then it was surely them. ❝Rest, Koto. I will handle the rest.❞

     She need not worry.