#can we revolt yet?

[cybercybertron]

Uuuhhhhh mom? I’m scared.

Wouldn’t it have said new episodes if it was 2b and not s3?

@transformers-earthspark

[babymate]

Fuck, ouch. Like I know the USA sucks but sometimes it's like a sucker punch to the gut that in turn makes you sick.

I think adults need summer vacation. Like let's just close down all our jobs for three months and play outside. Please. I'm so tired.

[raskies456]

wait i bet the whole reduced telomerase expression thing is an anti cancer mechanism huh

[space-blue]

Fixing Vander and Silco's story (a bit)

Using canon events! Sadly we can't actually fix it, but I hope this makes it a little better. I make my own edit proposal at the end that changes the bar scene to include Felicia without issues.

They meet in the mines, and meet Felicia and her partner there too. They end up together somehow (I think we can put the brotherly allegations to rest now, eh?) and one of them (or both) inherit/buy a bar.

Although Vander is the barman, there is no indication Silco doesn't own or co-own the place. After all he comes to take it eventually as his own, and he's still not bartending. That's just not his gig.

It's implied that Vander and Silco made it, as in, got away from the mines, while Felicia clearly didn't, as she comes home to both her daughters with mining gear and gloves.

So despite Vander and Silco building the Lanes together, the mines aren't closed, and the work "isn't done".

Felicia says they've done it, and Vander is happy to celebrate their success. Meanwhile, Silco has his "NoZ" Nation of Zaun book in which he's scribbling, still planning.

Vander's first memory that Viktor sees even has Silco holding that book.

Later, in season 1 episode 3, we see that Vander tells Silco that he had Vander's respect, the Lanes' respect, but it "was never enough".

There's also this fakeout moment in the memory at the bar, where Vander says they're done, and Silco replies with "You're gravely mistaken". And I thought he was going to go all zealous and say "We'll only be done when we have the Nation of Zaun", but no, he claims he's Bozo 1.

And imo, he is probably right. He calls out Vander in act 1 saying "I trusted you and you betrayed me", and Vander does not contest this. It makes the most in character sense as well that Silco is the brains of the operation while Vander is the brawn.

And we can conclude that Silco's goals were always "bigger" and that the Lanes were indeed not enough.

Years pass, during which we can only assume Silco keeps building his Nation of Zaun and Vander happily bartends and manages the Lanes with Silco. Felicia keeps working the mines and raises Vi, then Powder.

Vi is at least 11, if not more, by the time she's on the bridge. This is just consistent with her model, but also to make her 18+ by the time of act 2.

It's a long ass time for Vander and Silco to be running a bar and the Lanes together. Even assuming Vi is more 8 or 9yo, Vander and Silco spend all that time being together.

Sadly, their models aren't aged very well.

We are also forced here to make some unfortunate assumptions.

It's not a problem, IMO, for Silco to know Felicia and be close to her. It's a problem for him to not be close to Vi and Powder too. Close enough to recognise them at least.

It's easy to say, "Well, Felicia went back to the mines and raised her kids and wasn't super involved with Vander and Silco, who lived much higher up in their bar." Adult friendships and all that.

IT MAKES SENSE, but then it makes zero sense that Vander would murder his life's partner, a man he's been with 10 years at MINIMUM (fuck knows how long they were together while in the mines), over the death of a friend in a revolt they allegedly BOTH participated in.

The memories also imply that Silco is responsible somehow, for throwing a molotov. And yet the molotov doesn't kill the enforcer.

But Vander is shown in the opening of Act 1 season 1 pummeling one to death himself, long after the rest of the revolt has died down. That enforcer wasn't getting back up lol

So whatever we pick, because the writers made Felicia and Silco close, they create a plot hole either way.

Either Vander is whacko and murders his husband over a dead friend at a revolt he set up (since he repeatedly apologises for what he did, and claims he "lost his head after she died" and had that guilt on his hands too)

Or Silco and Vi and Powder spend ALL of season 1 acting like they don't know each other at all. Then Silco takes in Powder and somehow never comments on the fact he was friends with her mom.

Everything being triggered by Felicia's death also means that Vander's emotional thematic moment dropping the gauntlets after seeing what his violence led to is then followed up by a horrible attempted murder on the love of his life, which is... you know. Bad writing.

So I propose that they indeed drift apart. Silco knows of Felicia's kids, and they hangout a bit, but they aren't that close. She's busy mining and being a mom, and Silco is busy making the safe Zaun he promised to deliver.

The creation of that Zaun leads them to act out revolts and uprisings. Vander is happy to follow. He's angry, like he tells Vi. And this manifests in violence. Silco points his violence. It's how they create the Lanes and the moniker of Hound of the Underground. A hound usually has a master, after all.

Vander is Silco's hound, and I think, in Vander's mind this absolves him of some of the consequences of his actions.

So when his friend dies on the Bridge, even if they haven't been that close in a while, well, it's easy to put the blame on Silco.

Since we're following the new canon timeline... we'll have to have him go back with the girls, ready to turn a new leaf.

I think the best way here is to have him either dropping them at an orphanage, or back at their home (trusting Vi to look after Powder for a while) or with friends.

That way, Vi and Powder aren't immediately in Silco's legs back at the drop.

Then Vander and Silco take part in the "clean up" at the bridge. They go get bodies, and since they have no real estate in the fissures, they commit them to the sea (we have canon monsters in there, so I'm sure it all gets gobbled up).

That way, we explain why Vander is weirdly shaved, and why Silco and him are at in the Pilt: they just commited the bodies of the fallen to the waters.

There may have been many others, but Silco and Vander stay there, in the shallows, as they talk.

Vander is done. He doesn't want more of this. He thinks Silco went too far with pushing this one to the bridge. Piltover got defensive and they lost too many people.

Silco doesn't get it. Where he goes, so does Vander, but Vander is his own man, he decided to come too, and he killed enforcers too. Felicia's death is tragic, but as he later will tell Renni about the death of her son: at least she died fighting for the cause, and not some petty infighting, or worse, an accident at the shitty mines.

Vander, the Hound, is not only mad with grief, he refuses to carry the blame of his own actions. It's a character flaw and that's fine! The angry man channels that anger with violence, the only way he knows how.

Silco is probably shocked, and may not say the right things to calm Vander down.

Silco is under the assumption that Vander BELIEVES IN HIS DREAM. That he's a true believer of the Nation of Zaun, like Sevika turns out to be. A true believer would understand sacrifice. A true believer would understand too, that stopping now, after Felicia's death, would make THAT VERY DEATH POINTLESS.

So maybe he screams at Vander! What do you MEAN abandoning the fight? What do you mean, being content with the Lanes? How dare you? You'd make her sacrifice meaningless! You'd make Felicia die a pointless death!

And Vander would bellow that it's over. No more death. No more bloodshed. He rescued her kids from that bridge, and they don't deserve to die too, they don't deserve to see more death.

And Silco screams back that it's their job to create Zaun so these children won't have to see more death. Vander is just delaying the struggle.

And then, perhaps, Silco may even mock him. Say that Vander can't change like that. That he's not that sort of person, to just hang up his gauntlets and go peaceful. That Felicia's blood is on his hands too, and that the only way out is through more blood, more sacrifice.

It would be a horrible point to make, if then Vander truly loses it. Silco runs, and Vander's hound comes out, just grabbing Silco and trying to drown him.

It would be poetic, because then Vander goes home in shame. Gets his arm patched up, hides the scar under a brace, collects the kids and tries to pretend like HE CAN BE THAT MAN. Even though he surrendered his gauntlets and metaphorical violence, and tries to lean into the bartender chill persona, there's what he did to Silco.

And later he'll tell Vander "I'll show you what you really are". Because Silco knows that Vander's promises of being a peaceful good dad are flimsy at best.

Anyway, Vander goes home, and eventually the impact of what he's done really hits him. He's single now, and with kids, and the Lanes to run, and nobody knows where Silco is.

Vander slowly realises Silco was right about one thing. Just because Vander followed, doesn't mean he wasn't behind that event on the bridge. Becoming the solo leader of the Lanes has to have hammered that home for him. Suddenly so much responsibility thrust on him.

So Felicia's death was on him too, and his actions against Silco are the proof that he is indeed the sort of man Silco said he was. At any rate, surrendering violence as his first reaction to any trigger will take a lot of work.

He goes to their old hideout and leaves a letter for Silco.

In the happy AU, Silco finds it, and returns to Vander BEFORE ever meeting Singed. There is no glowing eye, no shimmer, and no cannery.

In our AU, Silco never finds the letter. He finds Singed instead. Starts helping him develop shimmer.

I've been thinking that since the goal of shimmer is a form of "keeping alive" and also "bringing back to life", then it's possible that Silco's glowing eye is a byproduct of shimmer experimentation.

And that the only way to keep it alive and function is more shimmer injections. It would otherwise be grey and dead like in the Nice AU.

So Singed is also a factor here. He gives our Silco a real way to deal scary violence to Piltover. And this changes our Silco. He's more radicalised, and more opposed to Vander, having discovered that Vander works with Grayson to keep Zaun under Piltover's boot (basically making sure the boot stays, but doesn't press down too hard).

Vander is, as always, the enforcer of the status quo.

And though this works for them timeline wise, it sadly doesn't change the fact that Silco should know who Vander's kids are.

Vi and Jinx can be excused for not recognising him, what with him being one of their mom's adult friends, and scarred. But Silco doesn't have that luxury. His great friend Felicia had two very distinctive kids, ONE OF WHICH VANDER FUCKING NAMED! And her death triggered his husband so badly he tried to kill Silco over it. If anything, Silco would be hyper-aware of Felicia's kids.

And no amount of alternate fix-its changes that. It's permanent damage to season 1's Silco.

I feel like we can fix Vander's side of things by inventing an entire scene at the Pilt as I did above, but we can't fix 10 years of knowing your friend's kids and then a lifetime of acting like you don't know them.

I think it also cheapens the found family aspect of both Vander and Silco's adoption. You're left to wonder if they took in the girls only because they were friends with the mom.

Silco's adoption of Jinx and co-dependence with her was great because it spoke of the similar shape of their traumas, and how unexpected their bond seemed.

But now it's redolent of friendly obligation. And lies.

How would I fix it by keeping Felicia in the picture?

I would fully remove Felicia's one-on-one with the boys. That night at the bar? It's a party. Young Sevika is here too!

Felicia and many others are there, all congratulating Vander and Silco over the creation of the Lanes. Eventually Silco tires of the social niceties and goes to write in his notebook at the bar. Or maybe there's a montage of the night as the crowds thin.

In the end, Silco is writing, and Vander is still socialising. He talks to 3 people--Felicia, her husband, and a random person. They thank him for all his work. They've done it! And the conditions in the mines are so much better now thanks to XYZ!

Vander is beaming, he's just so pleased. It's clear for him this is the end goal. Felicia asks him, pointing to Silco, if he's okay.

Vander laughs, says Silco is fine, but he's already got his head back in the clouds. You see, Silco doesn't just want the Lanes, he dreams of a free Nation of Zaun.

The other 2 laugh, but Felicia sobers up. She rubs her belly, thoughtful. Then she says "Sounds like a dream worth fighting for."

I don't think she even needs to say anything about being pregnant, but she could go on with something like "I'm expecting. A girl, I think. I know. And I would love if she could grow in a safe city. I'm so scared she'll have to live the way I did, growing up.'

And Vander smiles sadly and tells her, 'We've gotten this far, and we're not going back. We'll make Zaun safe for your kiddo, I promise you that.'

And that's it.

Vander knows OF Felicia. She is a community member. He knows her enough, maybe from Lanes meetings, that eventually he can recognise her children. But they're not friends, and SILCO definitely isn't friends.

And the disagreement after the bridge is fully about where to go from then on, and Vander deciding he wants to run the Lanes and keep them safe, that what they have now is good enough, while Silco wants "more".

That disagreement can turn nasty, and the fact Vander tried to drown Silco becomes a statement about how violent and temperamental he is as "The Hound of the Underground". Something he'll regret soon enough and spend the next few years working hard to try and change.

What do you think?

[theweirdhybrid]

I would love to but I just poured all of my writing Thoughts into finishing a scene for my fic and it’s nearly 5am and I took one look at this screenshot and thought “Damn maybe his forehead really IS that big”

Something about this shot just… evokes feelings in me.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (nocturnal file) 18+

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: oh, no! What is this? Did I let my imagination get the better of me again? To those of you asking for smut, this is one way we can satisfy those desires. Oh, and no taglist for this file - whoever finds it, finds it. It'll be our (and Ewan's!) little secret.

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Aemond's patience is sorely being tested.

The battle is on the morrow, and the Blackwood bitch refuses to relent useful intelligence on the enemy's doings.

Aemond had captured her as a prize of war, and kept her in the dungeons of the Red Keep. He would visit her every so often, trying to get her to break, to see her relentlessly vexing spirits dimmed.

But to no avail. She is as stubborn as her entire, rotten lot. This bastard daughter of House Blackwood, a formidable swordswoman in her own right, would be someone whom Aemond might admire, if the circumstances were different.

If he did not hate her with every fibre of his being.

It is callous, almost desperate. He did not know of his precise aim when he asked the guards to deposit her in his chambers.

Yet here she is.

Hair matted and skin decorated with grime and mud and dried blood. The blood isn't even hers - she had clawed and fought tooth and nail when Aemond attempted to subdue her. And he did. But it feels as if he had gained nothing out of it.

Only the presence of this rough and foul-mouthed bastard girl, a sorry excuse for a lady.

If only she did not possess a fire that Aemond hadn't seen before in anyone else. If only she wasn't so fucking beautiful.

"Do you plan to question me some more, One-Eye? Or are you finally going to kill me?"

With those words, Aemond realises that he never planned to kill her. Nor does he ever wish to. She is his prize, after all.

And his prize throws him off guard with another query, "Or perhaps... you would do away with all this pretense and fuck me like your whore?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Aemond lunges forward and grips her jaw. She only smirks, as if enjoying it, "I've seen the way you look at me, One-Eye. You'd sooner bed me than get rid of me, admit it."

He towers over her figure, imposing and formidable, and yet it is she that has the upper hand. He feels unsure for once. Of what is to happen next. Of his own compromised desires.

So she decides for him, when she rises on her tiptoes and presses her warm mouth to his.

It feels wretched. It is revolting, kissing the enemy, and yet Aemond finds himself leaning closer. He drags her to his bed and pushes her down atop the sheets. She flops like a rag doll, groaning in protest, but then spreads her legs wide open, inviting him in.

"Fuck you, bastard," he licks a stripe down her neck, his actions negating his words, "You are nothing to me."

"By all means, One-Eye," she only purrs, "fuck me."

That is all he needs. He rips off all trace of clothing from their wanting bodies. Positioning himself, he torments her with his hardened cock prodding at her wet cunny.

With an animalistic growl of both rage and surrender, he thrusts inside, and she feels him deep in the warmth of her cunt. His balls smack against the skin of her arse, and again when he slides out and back in. All the way in.

"Gods, One-Eye," she traces the scar on his cheekbone with one delicate finger, the motion gentle and almost foreign, "you're not letting me go after this, are you?"

"Never," he rasps, connecting his lips against hers, resuming his thrusting. "Uhhhhh, fuck, fuck," he moans against her parted mouth, his sounds turning into hissing when she resorts to digging her nails into his back as he slams his cock in roughly, right to the hilt.

"What will... become of... me, hmm?" she asks, in between panting. Their bodies grow sweaty, glistening in the candlelight. The lewd sounds of his cock fucking her aching pussy is like music to his ears. He cradles her face with one hand, and responds, "You will be mine. You are mine."

"I can't be, now, can I? You're still in New York," she says.

What did she say? Aemond startles, sitting back on his heels. With his cock still buried inside her, she follows suit so she sits on top of him. He nearly loses his mind when she gazes at him, biting her lip in the most lustful manner.

"I've never ridden a dragon before," she says, slowly gliding her pussy up and down his cock. "You feel so good, baby."

"B-baby?" Aemond does not understand the moniker. Is it customary among the Blackwoods to call a lover such? What a strange thing. And what did she mention before? What of this New Ark?

"I wish you were with me," she moans, bouncing on top of him, pressing her breasts against his face. Milking his cock like her life depends on it, and it just might. This Blackwood bastard would have leverage if she had dragonseed in her belly.

"I am with you," he breathes, before kissing her again, but she quickly pulls away.

"No you aren't, Ewan," she protests. "You're away."

Ewan?

"Ewan!" he hears someone call out. "Ewan, we yelled cut a while ago!"

Aemond - Ewan - blinks against an onslaught of bright light. The set is illuminated once more. He sees you still sitting on top of him, grinning impishly. But you're not fully naked as he thought - you wear pasties on your breasts in the same shade of your skin, as well as matching underwear. He looks down at this cock, and sees it covered in some fitted piece of cloth.

"Where are we, Blackwood?"

You only giggle lightly at his confusion, "Ewan, baby, are you still in character?"

"My... my name is Aemond."

"Oh, baby," you press your forehead to his, "of course it is. My Aemond."

"That was beautiful, you two," a woman approaches them, "All in all, a perfect take."

He hears himself speak, but he doesn't fully understand what he means, "It's easy because we are in love in real life, I suppose."

The Blackwood girl - you - shuffle over to the edge of the bed, and a woman comes forward and uses some brush on your face.

This is not the Red Keep. He is not Aemond?

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to knock some sense into himself. When he opens them again, he finds himself transported in what looks like your hotel room in LA.

"Ewan," he hears you whisper. He looks down and the both of you are naked under the sheets, cuddling each other. He feels lighter now, more content. The sensation that he no longer possesses his long, silver hair washes over him.

Because he is Ewan, his identity sliding back into place like a puzzle piece.

And you're his love.

You place a kiss on his chest, then the crook of his neck, and finally, his lips.

"I want you," your words come so sweetly, so faint, and yet it sends shivers down his spine.

He feels your soft touch gliding against his skin, your fingers tracing the contours of his abs, then down, down, to his erect...

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes fly open. He looks around the room frantically, trying to right himself and return to full consciousness.

He's in his hotel room in New York. The digital clock reads 4:40 AM. This would be the day of his meeting, and it's way too early to be awake.

That dream. Oh, fuck, that dream.

It has rendered him warm all over, covered in a sheen of sweat. He feels something straining under the covers. Under his boxers. Some thing to deal with.

A remnant of the dream, and of you.

Of you. It's depraved, and he feels like a hypersexual teenage boy. But it wouldn't be the first time. He reaches for his phone and finds his favourite picture of you.

The screen illuminates his face in the darkness. His other hand shamelessly creeps its way in the shadows, down below.

And with heavy-lidded eyes, and a yearning heart and body, he dreams.

soooo, I think we all know what he did at the end 😉

I know this is not direct, full-on, real-person smut (I'm still on the fence about that) but whatever works, eh?

thanks for participating in our secret sessions! See you for part five of the series <3

[probablyasocialecologist]

In place of blanks on the map, we’re now able to see highly cultivated landscapes with massive infrastructure stretching back to the early centuries BCE. Road networks, terraces, ceremonial earthworks, planned residential neighbourhoods, and regional settlement systems ordered into patterns of geometrical precision can be traced across Amazonia, from Brazil to Bolivia, as far as the eastern foothills of the Andes. In certain parts of Amazonia, the forest itself turns out to be a product of past human interaction with the soil. Over time, this generated the rich ‘anthropogenic’ earths called terra preta de índio (‘black earth of the Indians’), with levels of fertility far in excess of ordinary tropical soils. Scientists now believe that between 10,000 and 20,000 large-scale sites remain to be discovered across Amazonia. Similarly startling finds are emerging from Southeast Asia, and we might reasonably expect them from the forested parts of the African continent too. Of course, the same procedures are changing our picture of tropical landscapes that did witness the rise and fall of great kingdoms, and even empires. Archaeologists now believe that in the year 500 CE, between 10 and 15 million people lived in the Maya lowlands of Yucatán and northern Guatemala. For comparison, the Atlas offers a figure of just 2 million for all of Mexico in the same era, including the Indigenous cities of the Altiplano (at least some of which, we now know, were organised not as empires or even kingdoms, but fiercely autonomous republics, long before the Spanish conquest). It is easy, encouraged by works such as the Atlas, to imagine ancient history as a chequerboard of kingdoms and empires. But it is also very misleading. Ancient polities in the Maya lowlands and Southeast Asia had porous boundaries, constantly shifting, and open to contestation. Authority waned with distance from the centre. Warfare and tribute were largely seasonal affairs, after which coercive power shrank back behind the walls of the capital. As the archaeologist Monica Smith points out, only the most naive historian would assume that the claims inscribed on imperial monuments are a simple reflection of political reality on the ground. Of course ancient rulers loved to present themselves as ‘sovereigns of the four quarters’, ‘masters of the known world’, and so on. Yet no ancient world emperor could even have imagined powers of surveillance, such as those now enjoyed by any minor dictator or oligarch. On a global scale, we are witnessing a revolution in our understanding of ancient demography. To ignore it, these days, is to indulge in a cruel sort of intellectual prank, by which the genocide of Indigenous populations – a direct consequence of the planetary revolt against freedom, in the past 500 years – is naturalised as a perennial absence of people. Nor can we just assume that if we want to understand the prospects for our modern world, the only ‘big’ stories worth telling are those of empire.

5 July 2024

[mrs-hatake]

Jealous LADS Men

pairings: sylus x f!reader, zayne x f!reader and caleb x f!reader

a/n: i blame woo do hwan for this (he's all the men u flirt with lol) ;u;

Sylus:

It’s not common for Sylus to leave N109 to venture into other cities. It’s even rarer for him to be in Linkon in broad daylight. 

But Sylus has noticed a…shift in Your behavior recently. Sylus is too mature to admit that curiosity is eating him up inside but he will confess that Your lack of appearance at his manor has piqued his interest. 

At first, Sylus brushes it off as You being busy with work. Wanderers have been sprouting about it recently so he imagines the hunters have been off to battle frequently. With the increase in numbers of those filthy creatures, they’re probably grabbing any hunter they can find.

Yet when the dangers have dispersed, You still barely show up at his place. Just this morning Sylus has scoffed at himself for pacing around his study, as if he’s some pup eagerly waiting for his master’s return. 

Bothered at himself, Sylus sends out Mephisto to track your location.

The robotic bird informs him that You’re at the Deepspace Hunter Association’s main building, working on some documents.

This is how we find Sylus expertly bypassing all the security cameras and alarms installed in the building. He hears Mephisto through the earpiece that You’re currently at the outdoor training grounds with your friends.

Sylus is on the roof overlooking the training grounds without breaking a sweat. 

He sees a group of cadets gathered around a matted area. There are rows of benches surrounding the makeshift ring where two boxers are battling it out.

Sylus snaps his fingers and a pair of binoculars emerge through a smoke of crimson red. It doesn’t take him too long to spot You. 

You’re sitting in the middle, friends surrounding You left and right. A white eyebrow raises in curiosity as You and Your friends say something and then burst into a fit of giggles. 

Sylus sees one of Your friends pointing towards the ring, whispering something to You before You playfully shove her. 

Following where Your friend is pointing, Sylus’ gaze lands on the two men fighting on the ring. Specifically, a black haired man with very slanted eyes. The man fights seriously, as if he is facing an enemy. He knocks out his opponent in two minutes which earns him an eruption of cheers from the group of girls. Sylus doesn’t miss how loudly you clap and cheer for him.

Sylus’ insides curled in protest at the repulsive sight. 

You’ve been away this whole time because of some…some, pretty boy?

Sylus has never thought of You as someone so superficial. Or as someone who’s looking to date. Because even when Sylus drags you to all those parties You hate, where men drool all over You, some bold enough to flirt, You never paid them attention. 

But You’re acting like a shy school girl over this insignificant bug? Ridiculous. 

Movement below catches Sylus attention again. It takes every ounce of self control for Sylus to not break his binoculars.

The little bug runs up to You when he notices You holding a cold bottle of water and clean towels for him. The boy flashes You what he thinks is a charming smile (Sylus thinks he looks like a creep) and throws a wink Your way before he’s back on the ring.

Snapping the binoculars away, Sylus turns away from the revolting scene.

Should You grace Sylus with Your presence, he’ll show just how pretty and strong a man can be.

Zayne:

Zayne absolutely despises going to the coffee shop across the street from Deepspace Hunter Association’s main building. He yearns to take You to a different coffee shop but Your lunch break is only an hour and any other decent coffee shop is at least thirty minutes away from Your workplace. 

Zayne has suggested that he brings You lunch to work, tempting You by promising that he’ll cook all of Your favorite meals but You refused. 

You’ve explained to him that being stuck at work all day long is driving You crazy and You’re not going to sacrifice Your freedom and sanity no matter what. 

So Zayne has to sit in this humble sized coffee shop with hanging flowers decorating the walls and soft jazz music playing in the background. 

To be honest, the establishment isn’t so bad. The prices are reasonable. The food they serve is very delicious and Zayne will admit that their coffee is the best in the city. So, really, Zayne doesn’t have any reason to complain about this place.

Except for the fact that one of their baristas is an attractive young man that You’ve been eyeing ever since they had hired him.

Zayne has to watch You with a hollow heart as You bat Your eyes prettily at the man with slanted eyes as he compliments Your dress. The dress that Zayne has seen You purchased on Your phone just like this. 

A compliment or two from men is fine, Zayne doesn’t mind it much. You are a beautiful woman after all so he doesn’t blame them. But does the barista have to draw hearts, flowers and cute emojis in all of Your coffee orders?

At least Zayne doesn’t have to hear You gushing about him like You do with Tara. He fears he might do something illegal if he does. 

Caleb:

There really should be a support group for men who are not only bother-zoned but have to spend their only day off of the week watching their crush flirt with another man.

Caleb is sitting on his beach towel with his arms crossed as he shoots lasers at the lifeguard talking to You. He holds back screams of frustration as You shyly laugh at something the other man said and playfully smack his well defined pectorals. 

What’s worse is that You’re wearing a frilly pink bikini that Caleb loves so much. It’s not fair that the lifeguard, some loser who’s most likely a closeted creep and perv, gets to freely ogle at Your smoking hot body while Caleb can’t.

Internally, Caleb screams, a cacophony of frustration and envy echoing in the hollows of his mind.  Every laugh from Your lips feels like a dagger to his heart. Each flirtatious glance You exchanged with the lifeguard made his blood boil. 

The final straw is when You call him gege. Yes, gege can be used for anyone but You know that this honorific is Caleb’s weakness. You’re also aware of how upset he gets when You use it on other men, even You have called out his illogical mindset. 

Unable to stomach the sight before him, Caleb is on his feet. He’s trudging to the lifeguard station where you’re both at. 

He’ll snatch You away from that snake and drag You back home if it means it will put an end to Caleb’s torture. 

You being angry is a price he’s willing to pay because, by the end of the night, he’ll make sure You’re his. 

[soopcak3]

I’m Sorry..

Kang Dae-Ho/Angst🌧️

Summary: right before the revolt, Gi-Hun asks if the other players are willing to join the fight. It doesn’t end well for Y/N..

Warnings: blood/gore, gun violence, overall sad vibes.

This was it. The revolt against the people who had put everyone here. Justice for those who died, and those who were willing do risk their lives to end the games for good.

Gi-Hun and several others, including your best friend Dae-ho had gathered guns and ammo from the guards they had killed moments before. Dae-ho’s oldest sister had babysat Y/N as a kid so she and Dae-ho had spent a lot of time together, and practically grew up together. Playing lots of Gonggi and cooking and having lots of fun, but now none of that mattered. What mattered was getting out of here and ending the games.

Gi-Hun asked if anyone would join them in their fight against the guards. Y/N stepped up, “I… I will.”

“Y/N no!” Dae-ho interrupted, “you can’t! It’s too dangerous!” She waved him off.

“Don’t try telling me what’s dangerous now! I’ve made my choice. I’d rather die in a fight than die helplessly in one of those games!!” Y/N shouted back. Dae-ho stood there helplessly as Gi-hun nodded. Hyun-ju quickly taught everyone how to use the guns, it was amazing how she had the whole rooms attention, except for Dae-ho. He was focused entirely on y/n.

As they exited the room, Dae-ho quickly walked in front of y/n as though he was blocking her. She glared at him but didn’t say anything, she had to focus on the task at hand.

As they went up the stairs, the first wave of attack started. Y/N fired her gun as best as she could, and although she wasn’t skilled she managed to shoot a few guards and even take one down. She looked over at Dae-ho who was trembling from the gun fire, she knew about his PTSD and her eyes softened. They continued up the stairs once the fight was over.

Dae-ho, still trembling, felt a hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch. He turned quickly and saw Y/N, “are you okay, Dae-ho? Do you.. need to go back?” She asked, her eyes gentle and caring. He shook his head, his hands trembling slightly. Y/N nodded, trusting his judgment, but still slightly worried.

Then the next attack started. Everyone was doing so well at first, then Gi-hun and Jung-bae split off to go find the control room. They were holding their own at first then Y/N turned to see Dae-ho behind a pillar, firing his gun over his head. She quickly crawled over, “Dae-ho, it’s okay, you need to get up though.. we can do this! We’re doing so well!” Y/N said, her voice gentle yet shaky. He nodded but as Y/N began to stand— BOOM.

She fell to the floor, blood gushing from her chest. Dae-ho quickly crawled over, hands shaking and breathe hitching. “Oh my— Y/N!! SOMEONE HELP HER!!” He cried, looking around at everybody and realizing he’d lose her today.

She weakly looked up at him and took his face in her hands, “Dae.. ho… I’ll be okay… I.. love you…” Y/N mumbled as blood gushed from her mouth, and the life drained from her eyes.

Dae-ho cradled her in his arms and cried out loudly, it all happened so fast, it was like he couldn’t hear anything, not even the gun fire anymore. Everything he fought for was gone in seconds.

“I’m sorry..”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[fisheito]

TGHE LONGHAIREDMAN ENJOYER HAS WEIGHED IN with a most accurate assessment!!! thank u halfeti, longhairedmanandmaybeabittsun enjoyer!!!!!

you know what let's add the other rebloggl tags onto this for funsies

Me, standing in front of a rolling chalkboard surrounded by 6 dilapidated folding chairs: EVERYONE GET IN HERE We'RE AbOUT TO GET STARTED ON THE SNAKE SEX!!!! *BANGS A TINY GONG IN RAPID SUCCESSION*

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[thewertsearch]

Tavros, who dreamed of flying, came from a line of winged trolls.

I have thought of the summoner often. I have 8een trou8led to know that as one so common 8looded, he could not possi8ly have hatched yet, nor will he wriggle from the caverns for many sweeps.

As has been implied before, troll lifespans are correlated with blood color. The 'higher' your blood, the longer you live.

Actually, it's possible that the causal link worked in the opposite direction, since longer-lived trolls would naturally accrue more power and influence than their compatriots. Maybe troll society used to be more egalitarian, but over time, more and more power became concentrated in the castes that exhibited more longevity, until we eventually arrived at the current status quo.

Hey - what does this mean for Karkat, actually? He's not on the hemospectrum, so it's difficult to guess how long he might live. Best-case scenario, his lifespan follows Zodiac ordering, which puts him somewhere between Nepeta and Kanaya.

He would rise through the ranks of the cavalreapers and assume command, having proven the most skilled and fearless of them. He would exhi8it a remarka8le pup8tion, the sort only recorded in myth, growing, or perhaps simply revealing, a striking pair of wings.

...which means that Tavros, too, could have flown under his own power, had he lived just a little longer.

He never knew just how damn close he was to achieving his dream. Would you call that a tragedy, or a kindness?

His army thus inspired would spearhead a major re8ellion. Surely one at least on the scale of the sectarian revolt crushed 8y the High8loods, who thereafter for8ade its mention, or any invoc8tion of the heretical sym69ls at all, even in private journals. Which is why I will stick to the fa8le of the summoner, and not risk another execution with even o8lique reference to the compelling tale of the sufferer.

Damn it, Hussie. You're telling me Karkat's ancestor was history's greatest revolutionary, and you're just going to leave me hanging? Go back, damn it!

I can certainly see how this might have come about. If Vantas was another mutant, he'd definitely have 'suffered' under the Alternian regime - and someone with Karkat's personality wouldn't have taken that lying down. I imagine the Sufferer adopted his descendant's leadership style, and essentially bothered people into fighting for social change.

Come to think of it, I could easily see Karkat himself being radicalized, if he'd stayed on Alternia for longer. Given his mutation, I doubt his dream of being a threshecutioner was realistically achievable, and it's likely that his adult self would eventually be forced into hiding, lest he be culled. He'd have to realize the Empire sucks eventually.

[meraki-sunset]

i have a question about hiveswap as im just getting into it, considering that the events of hiveswap and hauntswitch both take place in the late 1900s, whats the point exactly?

we already know whats going to happen and that all of the characters are doomed fail on their goals and then die no matter the outcome. the caste system is never abolished, HIC stays in power, both earth and Alterna get destroyed, and doc scratch continues his plan without a hitch

none of it seems to really matter or serve any purpose other than worldbuilding for 2 already doomed worlds (3 if you count the cherub portal implying a lost society of cherubs)

Well, it is. It is worldbuilding, that’s what precuels are. They add extra context to events you already know will happen, they add to how they happened, how we got there. That doesn’t make them pointless.

It may seem irrelevant at first glance, but Hiveswap actually has a very important role.

It sets the stage for the arrival of the players on both Alternia and Earth-A

The events of Hiveswap are happening with an equivalent distance in years between both Alternia and earth

Which means the Beta children are about to arrive in their meteors (1995 - 1996) a little after the time when Joey and Jude are having this adventure (1994), which means the Alpha trolls will get to Alternia soon too.

Both timelines are mirrored in time, they both have the same exact amount of time before the end.

We know the Beta kids hadn’t arrived yet to earth during Hiveswap because it’s 1994, and that the Alpha trolls hadn’t arrived either because Trizza is the heiress, and there can only be one at a time, so Feferi isn't there yet.

This series of events are necessary for Doc scratch’s plan, otherwise he wouldn’t have intervened, giving Xefros a surveillance free communication channel, so Joey and him aren’t detected by the authorities.

He needs them under the radar so they can (while trying to send Joey back home) connect people with each other, cause necessary problems, kick start important events.

All which will set the stage for the 12 troll player’s arrival.

What do I think it’s the most important event Doc Scratch needs Joey and Xefros to make happen?

Trizza has to die. There can only be one heiress at a time, and if Feferi is about to arrive, then Trizza has to go.

The events of Hiveswap/HauntSwitch will cause the death of the heiress, either fighting against the Condesce, at the hands of the revolted trolls Joey and Xefros will influence, crushed to death by Feferi’s own meteor, who knows. But if this is the "equivalent to 1994 on Alternia" and all that is happening it’s really happening as a mirrored version of Earth’s timeline, then the 12 trolls should be to arriving at different dates during the following year. Which means she doesn’t have much time left, as we know Feferi was the only heiress on Alternia during Homestuck. And we’re 13 years away from the end of the world. It needs to happen now.

It's the same tactic Doc used with Rose, Vriska and Terezi

The only reason he ever “helps” anybody it's because he needs them to make things happen.

He needs Joey and Xefros alive, he needs the rebellion to go through (even if it fails, it'll fail in a way that it's usefull for him), he needs Trizza gone so Feferi can come to Alternia and so the final stage of this plan of millions of years connecting dots and manipulating people to create a hostile planet for the new players to grow stronger that their predecessors, can begin. The rise of the new players.

I personaly think Tyzias might be the one to intercept Karkat or at least be involved in it.

It could be her, Joey or maybe someone else, but whoever intercepts him will have to know about the signless and according to Tyzias’s password (69) she already knows about him and she knows his symbol, and seems to be a follower in the down low. Tyzias also must knows how the singless promised that there would be another troll like him, and according to Doc scratch's explanation:

The followers of the summoner decreased enormously, but the Doc said himself that there were still some of them hidden and I think he was talking about Tyzias and her alies.

Sometimes we forget that there was intervention from the suferer's followers to ensure Karkat's survival

That’s why he has the sufferer’s symbol, someone who knew it gave it to him. And we know Tyzias knows.

The ectobiologist and team leader also seems to always be the last one to turn 13, (as well as the last to wake up as their dream self) so Karkat should be the last one to arrive, ending that chain of events.

Of course this all means that, by the time the end of the world happens, and asuming they’re all still alive, all Hiveswap trolls would be adults carrying duties off planet and would die the day of the apocalypse during the Vast Glub along with all troll Civilization.

The same would happen to Joey and Jude, assuming Joey is successful and returns to Earth. They would die on the 13th of April 2009 with the rest of humanity, not knowing they had a part in it or that their lost brother was the detonator of the end of the world.

It’s tragic in the end, but it’s necessary. Someone has to play that role.

They are the stagehands who prepared the stage for the first act of the play they were never meant to see.

And who knows, it may not be the end of them, maybe we’re too quick to assume they didn’t get saved somehow. By some random paradoxical event or deus ex machine that teleported them away from danger. We’ll have to wait and see how it plays out.

It's been a while since i wrote an analysis, i really missed that ^u^

[fallonsfics]

Perfection in Every Sense

Warnings: Cheating, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, fingering, oral (Fem receiving), lots of praise, profanity.

Overview: You’ve found yourself detesting your boyfriend Felix Ravinstill. Now you find the one who’s been turning your head is none other than Coriolanus Snow.

Word Count: 3,4k

You were arm and arm with your boyfriend Felix Ravinstill as you ambled around Heavensbee Hall. You were waiting for the Reaping to commence, as well as waiting for the results regarding who would be gifted the Plinth Prize. You smoothed out your tight black dress, it was simple yet eye-catching all the same. You greeted your peers with charming smiles and polite greetings. You sipped on your glass of posca as Felix chatted with Arachne and Festus. You found your mind drifting elsewhere as the three spoke in favor of the brutal games. Your gaze floated around the room as you looked for better company.

“Don’t you agree, dear?” Felix asked, nudging your shoulder. Your gaze snapped back to the trio.

“Hm?” You asked, cocking your head. They all chuckled at your response.

“Do you ever have a thought behind those eyes?” Festus teased, eyes raking your figure. 

You pursed your lips as you glared at him. “Trust me I do. However, I was raised with the ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all mindset.’” You retorted. 

You craned your neck as a familiar blond peer caught your eye. Coriolanus had Clemensia Dovecote on his arm as he entered the hall. He looked gorgeous as ever, hair meticulously styled, his dapper vintage shirt creating a refined look. You found yourself drifting from Felix for a moment, as if your feet were moving on their own volition to go greet Coriolanus. However, your boyfriend put a hand at your waist and tugged you to his side once more. “Ansty to see Snow, are we?” He asked, raising a brow.

You rolled your eyes, as annoying as Felix was he wasn’t stupid. “Well, I wanted to wish him luck. As I did to all of my friends.” You said. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. Coriolanus was known to flirt with you and give you compliments that Felix would never dream of. Much to your delight, Coriolanus parted ways with Clemensia to join your group. 

“If it isn’t the star pupil himself.” Arachne mused as her gaze swept his figure with a critical eye. It was as if she were trying to find a flaw. An impossible notion in your mind naturally. 

“Worried about losing the prize, Arachne?” Coriolanus quipped as he approached. He flashed a charming smile at you. “You look lovely, by far the most radiant in the room.” 

You felt yourself become tongue-tied, looking away bashfully. “Thank you, Coriolanus,” was all you could manage to say. You wanted to compliment him as well but you feared that if you started now the praise would never stop.

Felix, as always, inserted himself into your conversation with Coriolanus. “Have you tried the lamb? It’s scandalous.” He said as he tossed another piece into his mouth. 

“Only the vulgar eat with their fingers, Felix. Did daddy not teach you manners?” Festus scoffed.

“Maybe he would’ve if he wasn’t so busy running the country.” Felix countered with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his arm gently. “Felix, have some modesty.” You urged. Felix was often boastful about his father, as well as his expansive wealth. You found it revolting how egotistical he was. You had to remind yourself, this was a smart match. Your family had known Felix’s family for years. You were practically raised to end up together long-term. 

“Anyway, speaking of Plinth, take a look at Sejanus,” Felix said, jutting his chin to the Plinth family as they entered. “How can someone from such an elite family have such a detestable child?”

This time you pinched his arm. “Felix.” You admonished. You were embarrassed to even be standing next to him at this point. Coriolanus’s eyes darted between you and your boyfriend. It wasn’t uncommon for you to argue in front of others. It was clear that he, and many others, found it amusing. 

“Darling, you can’t argue with facts. Sejanus is simply not cut out for the Capitol lifestyle.” Felix responded with a shrug.

“If I have to hear one more word about how much he hates the games, I’ll put him in the arena myself,” Festus muttered. 

You gingerly removed Felix’s hand from your waist. “I’m going to find my seat.” You couldn’t stand to be around them when they spoke like this.

The Reaping continued and much to everyone’s discontent, the Plinth prize was going to be offered through unconventional means. The following few days at the Academy were tense. All of the mentors were on edge, for once, you were grateful that you weren’t in the top twenty-four of seniors at the Academy. What’s more, Felix was being especially irritable with you. You glared at your boyfriend as you watched him pair up with Festus for the Communications project that Professor Click had assigned. “Felix, you always pair up with me.” You argued.

“No offense dear but I need to make sure I get a perfect score on this assignment,” Felix said as he moved to sit beside Festus. 

You furrowed your brows as you glared at him. It wasn’t the first time that Felix had discredited your academic abilities. 

Coriolanus sat beside you, setting his notes down on the desk. “Don’t pay him any attention. I’ll work with you.” He said. 

Your eyes lit up as he took a seat beside you. “Oh Coryo, you don’t have to do that.” You chuckled softly.

“No I want to, I know we have differing opinions regarding the Districts, maybe you have some insight for me. May I?” He asked, gesturing to your notes.

“Of course.” You said with a shy smile. You weren’t used to many others caring for your opinion about the Districts, other than Sejanus naturally. 

Coriolanus’s eyes darted across the page, his brows contorted with concentration. You leaned over his shoulder. “I was thinking about ways to build rapport with tributes. I know I’m not a mentor but I was thinking…maybe offering them food and water could help. Maybe giving the sick ones medicine as well…Felix’s tribute has been showing signs of tuberculosis so that’s where I got the idea.”

Coriolanus looked over at you with a pleased smile. “That’s quite kind of you. You’re right, it would be a good way to establish relationships with tributes,” he paused for a moment, “such a smart girl.” He praised. You felt your cheeks blaze as he complimented you. It was an unfamiliar experience, you were used to heaping praise on Felix to keep him content however he rarely returned the favor. He chuckled at your reaction as he passed your notes back to you.  “Such a pretty sight too.”

You looked away shyly. “Coriolanus stop flattering me so much, I’ll get an ego.”

“Hm, like your boyfriend?” He asked, tilting his head with a teasing smile. You couldn’t deny that Felix had an ego the size of Panem itself. You looked over your shoulder at Felix and Festus who were animatedly discussing tactics to make tributes fight harder in the arena.

“No one could match that.” You giggled softly.

Coriolanus started brainstorming ideas, jotting them down on paper in his exquisite penmanship. “Why do you even stay with him?” He asked, moving a little closer to you, his leg now brushing against yours.

“He’s a family friend. It’s a smart match.” You said with a shrug. You couldn’t tell if you were saying it like that to remind yourself or to simply inform Coriolanus. You found yourself finding your boyfriend insufferable as of late. It almost wasn’t worth it to stay but you knew your family wanted you to be with Felix long term. 

“A smart match until he drives you insane.” Coriolanus jested. He set down his fountain pen and placed a hand on your knee. You felt your stomach flutter in response to the simple gesture. “As your friend, I just want to look out for you. Make sure you’re making the right decisions. To make sure you’re being treated well.”

You’re gaze darted between his grip on your knee to his face. “What are you implying?” 

Coriolanus shook his head with a short laugh. “Surely you aren’t so naive, darling.” He inched his hand further up your thigh. You looked around anxiously, worried that someone would catch wind of what was happening. However, everyone (including your boyfriend) was working diligently on their projects. “Tell me that I’m overstepping and I’ll stop” He whispered. 

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” You asked softly.

“I must admit I hadn’t given it much thought…until I saw you on Felix’s arm at the beginning of the year.” His fingertips fiddled with the hem of your skirt. “But I’ve always found you lovely.”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “I really shouldn’t…”

Coriolanus glanced at the clock on the wall and slowly pulled his hand away from your thigh. “Class is nearly over. How about this,” he gripped your chin affectionately, making sure he had your full attention, “I’ll come over this evening to work on the project. I’ll leave it up to you if you want to pursue this.”

You already felt a surge of anticipation, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought. “Yes, I’d like that.” You said breathlessly. 

“That’s my girl,” Coriolanus said affectionately. 

As soon as your chauffeur brought you home, you immediately started cleaning your room. Stowing most of your belongings in your closet naturally, you were on a time crunch after all. You rummaged through your dresser trying to find something to wear. You settled on a tight corduroy skirt with a zipper in the front (easy access) with a simple blouse paired with it. You felt your heart stutter when the doorbell rang throughout your family’s stately home. You dashed through the halls and down the stairs of the foyer. You knew it was wrong, it was so incredibly wrong yet it felt so right. You opened the door with a smile. “Coriolanus.” You said with a little nod as you took in his features. His figure was highlighted by the sunset. His curls were contentiously set in place. He was wearing the Academy uniform trousers and button-up but ditched the blazer. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up his forearms and something about that look made you nearly melt on the spot. 

“Good evening darling.” He greeted with a nod. His eyes raked up and down your form, taking in every curve and feature. “You look stunning, is this all for me?” He chuckled as he strode into the foyer. 

“I wanted to look good for you.” You admitted shyly. 

He smirked as he linked his arm with yours. “You look ravishing regardless of what you wear.” 

You looked away bashfully as you led him to your room. “You always know what to say to get me all flustered.” You giggled as you opened the door. 

He followed you in and closed the door, locking it behind him. “Have you given what I said any thought?” He asked as he approached you.

You nodded slowly. “I have,” you stepped closer to him and looked up at him, “I don’t just want to work on our project tonight.” You said coyly. 

Coriolanus snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him. “And what else do you want tonight, hm?”

“Coryo, don’t make me say it.” You looked away embarrassedly. Your eyes widened as Coriolanus grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him again.

“Be a good girl and use your words.” You felt your breath catch at his order. “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” 

You nodded eagerly. “Y-Yes.” You pawed at his torso as you gazed up at him longingly. “I want you to make me feel good.” You said breathily. 

Coriolanus ran a hand through your hair to relax you. “Good job, darling. Already being so good for me.” He chuckled. He backed you up until you sat at the edge of your bed. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”You felt your face flush. You weren’t sure how to answer his question. With Felix, you always did whatever he wanted; he never asked for your input usually. Coriolanus arched a brow as he looked down at you. “Has your boyfriend ever made you come before?”

“No.” You mumbled. He ran his fingers through your hair again and sank to his knees in front of you. 

“What a pity,” he said as he rubbed your thighs, “you must be so pent up then, hm?” He teased as he toyed with the zipper of your skirt. He pulled his hand away and ran a hand up your torso to your chest. “Can’t believe he didn’t want to make such a pretty girl come.” He mused as he slowly started to unbutton your blouse. “I personally don’t think I’ll be able to stop til your shaking and begging me to fuck you.” He ran a hand up your skirt once he unbuttoned your shirt, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

You let out a little gasp as you looked down at him. His eyes were glazed over with lust as he gazed up at you. “Coryo, please!” You begged. 

He shook his head and chuckled. “So impatient.” He unzipped your skirt and tugged it off, tossing it aside. You shrugged your blouse off, blushing as you realized that you were now sitting in front of him in skimpy white lingerie while he was still fully clothed. You were about to complain but all grievances were whisked away as he suddenly moved and slotted his knee between your thighs, pushing you back against the mattress as he did. You let out a whimper as he started pressing kisses along your neck. “Such pretty sounds, I want to hear more.” He whispered huskily. A moan erupted from your throat as he started sucking on your neck, leaving a trail of marks down your neck to the tops of your breasts. You start grinding your lightly clothed core against his knee. He snickered as your hips moved, desperate to get some form of friction. He tipped your chin up and kissed you forcefully, hands roaming your curves as he did. Your breath hitched as he pulled away briefly to start unbuttoning his shirt. He was lean but toned, what you expected of him. He tossed his shirt aside as he pulled away. You nearly whined in protest but he grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed once more. 

You giggled as he tugged your panties and put them in his pocket. “What, you plan on keeping them?” 

Coriolanus chuckled as he knelt in front of you again. “I’m keeping them there in case I have to shove them in your mouth from screaming too loud.”

You felt your face flush crimson as he teased you. You arched your back as you felt him brush his fingers across your entrance, coating his fingers with your juices. “So wet for me…I wouldn’t be surprised if my fingers just,” he slowly pushed his digits into your pussy, “slipped right in.” He mused smugly. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pumped his fingers languidly. You gripped the sheets beneath you as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back as he buried his face between your thighs and sucked on your bundle of nerves. He flicked his tongue over it causing your body to jolt. You squeezed your thighs together around his head, weaving your fingers in his hair. He groaned, seeming to savor every time you’d buck your hips and arch your back, soundlessly pleading for more.

“Coryo, oh god, Coryo, yes!” You shrieked, gripping desperately at his curls. Damn, he was good, better than your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend could ever dream of. He had you on the brink of seeing stars as he kept his fingers at a steady pace. “Coryo, I’m going to—oh fuck—you’re gonna make me—” Before you could finish you let out a broken moan as you clenched around his fingers, drenching them in your juices as you came hard. You frantically tried to pull him away as he kept fingering you. “’s too much Coryo.” You gasped. 

He pulled his face away but continued the pace of his digits. “You can give me one more before I fuck you, I know you can.” You whimpered as he crooked his fingers, rubbing that special spot just right. You were teetering on the edge once again, panting and moaning his name like some sort of corrupt prayer. He reached and wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to give you that high you were chasing. You pulsed around his fingers again, arching your back as you climaxed. You were gasping for breath as he pulled his digits from you, slowly. He moved his hand from your neck, placing it on your thigh and giving you an affectionate pat. “Such a good girl. I knew you could do it.” He praised. He licked your arousal from his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You reached up and ran your fingers down his torso. “Please, Coryo, please I need you to fuck me.” You begged pathetically. He gripped your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss as he unzipped his trousers. He took your panties out of his pocket and set them on the bed, just in case he needed to shut you up.

“Such a pretty slut for me aren’t you?” He teased, pushing you back into the mattress. 

You giggled and nodded, still dazed from the bliss you felt moments ago. Your eyes settled on his cock, the red tip already leaking precum. “Please, Coryo, I wanna make you feel good.” 

He spread your legs further apart as he slowly pushed into you, groaning as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you're so wet.” Your eyes rolled back as he set a brutal pace. “Who made you this wet? Who do you belong to?” He hissed. 

“Y-You, I’m all yours Coryo.” You moaned, relishing every thrust even more than the last. You let out a squeal as he grabbed your hips, forcing you to take him fully each time he rutted his hips to meet yours. Fuck he was rough and you loved it. You loved being used by him. It was as if your body was made for him and him alone. 

You reached a hand in between your thighs, rubbing your clit as he fucked you. Your moans grew louder and louder as you repeated his name. He grabbed your panties and shoved them into your mouth. It was degrading, humiliating even but god it felt so good. You felt the coil in your body snap again as you came undone. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You were clenching around him, milking him for all he was worth as you let out muffled screams of pleasure. 

Coriolanus let out a grunt as he suddenly stilled and jerked inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He leaned into you, panting as he desperately tried to catch his breath. He slowly pulled out of you and lay beside you. He stroked your hair softly as he stared at you. His gaze was as if he was trying to commit every part of you to memory. “You are,” he paused as he brushed his fingertips over the marks he had left on your neck, “perfection in every sense of the word.” 

You giggled breathlessly. “So are you Coryo.”

He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair and sat up on the edge of the bed. “What are you going to tell Ravinstill?” He chuckled.

“That I found someone better in every way.” You chuckled, moving to wrap your arms around his torso. You looked up at him, cocking your head. “We still have to finish our project don’t we?” You grumbled.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, darling, we do. I’ll do the majority of it; you just lay there and look pretty.”

[the-quaint-quail]

Azul-

Had always enjoyed going to upscale events. He liked the prestige and the exclusivity of them. That not the common man or mer can step foot inside a venue without a connection or invitation. He enjoyed picking out a suit, lapels, a tie, blazer, shiny black dress shoes. He didn't mind the cummerbund, thanking It for its slimming effects, although it is an effort to clean it.

Azul didn't mind the limousine sent to pick him and his employees up from the port, the same port the three of them were fished out of and brought to Night Raven College all those years ago.

Sevens where did the time go...

He was established in the business world. Connections from school and his mother serving him well in his pursuit of excellence, all the time he'd fake smile and stroke the egos of the naive students there who were too busy choking on their silver or iron pyrite spoons. Too busy comparing muscles to understand the importance of strategic planning and the sacrifices that come with excellence. Simply because they won't reach his level- unless they were born into it like Kalim Al-Asim, or Vil Schoenheit.

Looking out the window boredly, his eyes focused on one thing and another as the car kept speeding along to their destination. Much to Floyd's chagrin.

"I don't understand why we gotta go to this stupid thing. We already got those mermaids sing'n at the Lounge. What makes you think a human could compete with 'em?"

"Now Floyd, I wouldn't put down the entire human race because of their birth situations. The unfortunate feeling of a dry throat is something only humans can experience and that is no fault on their part except for their birth on land."

"...Huh?"

Azul drowned out their nonsensical banter and focused on the warmth on the streetlamps that illuminated the city. From magic mirror to limousine, Azul could feel himself slowly sink into the leather seat. This is supposed to be a night of relaxation, investing, connecting.

So, he is even more confused when Riddle Rosehearts and his mother are walking into the gran preforming arts center. His styled silver locks bouncing at the momentum of his double take and with a huff he blew the stray lock of hair dangling in front of him back into place in a silk back.

Well, what he could call a slick back at his curls insistence to make themselves known by revolting against the hair spray and magic styling tools he tried using.

"Riddle Rosehearts!"

The same heart shaped hairstyle Riddle wore was replaced with his left front piece tucked behind his ear, but hair wasn't important right now. Instead, Azul slowed his steps as he took in the ex-house warden. He had certainly grown into himself that was for sure as the puff in his chest from college was bigger and his legs longer.

"Ehhhh, goldfishie must've been eat'n his greens" Floyd mocked, bending down to wave a hand over Riddle's head as no number of greens would make him catch up to the lumbering eel mer.

Riddle quickly and quietly excused himself from his offended mother and brought the three mers to the corner of the gallery. The black rug swirled with gold vines, being separated by a set of sleek polished black marble stairs. Red carpets lined both entrances to the large auditorium where Riddle's mom was walking to, stopping along the way to converse with a group of older suits.

"Azul Ashengrotto- Jade, Floyd" Riddle greeted the twins coolly before turning back to their leader in confusion. "What are you guys doing here? Didn't you move back to the coral sea after your internships?"

"Indeed, we did, no place like home as they say" Jade cut in with a fake smile that he curated for a decade, long before he transferred schools and yet he seemed to prefect it to Riddle's displeasure and to Azul's pleasure.

"We're here because we're meeting with a few potential investors for a new location of the Monstro. With the riveting success it's had under sea we thought the next best move was to expand on land"

Riddle chuckled slightly "How ambitious of you Azul, you're still the businessman you were at Night Raven."

"Naturally" Azul couldn't help the coy smirk on his face as he placed a gloved hand to his deep French navy blazer, a recommendation from Vil Schoenheit himself, in pride.

"So whattaya do'n here Goldfishie? You here on business?"

"Pleasure is more like it" Riddle's cheeks flushed as he fidgeted under the intrigued stares of the merman. Azul's eyes zoomed in on the arms he kept hidden behind his back hiding something he didn't want the three of them to see. Hm.

One thing Azul loved was a good mystery. And good sevens could not mind his own business for the life of him and he knows the twins couldn't either.

"Ehhh, Goldfishie what's that behind your back."

FLOYD YOU NINCOMPOOP

Azul wanted to smack himself, remembering Floyd's art of discretion was as- as... Floyd, dear sevens.

Riddle's face was feverishly red as he looked behind his back in a panic, the other guests slowly filing out of the gallery at the sudden chiming of bells. Five minutes til show starts.

"I'd love to continue chatting with you, but we have to get to our box, tell me where yours is as we'd like to stop by and continue this little catch up amongst old friends."

Azul's smile widens at the grumbling of Riddle's breathe, something about 'old friends'. caused the red head to grimace. It almost looked like he was pouting, how utterly adorable.

"Against my wishes, my mother set us up for box A-"

"Wonderful! We are box C and hope to see you after the show! Perhaps we could even get dinner together, if your mother agrees." And with that they said their goodbyes and quickly vanished leaving Riddle to blink owlishly at what just happened. H-How the sevens did he get roped into this? He hardly had a second to think let alone respond to these suspiciously suspicious men that they had made plans without his consent.

Riddle's, unfortunately still small but now slight larger fists clenched in timed intervals as he tried calming his anger through breathing in and out, in and out just like you thought him. Soon the fury that was rising like fire in his chest died down into a light irritation as he now must somehow convince his mother to divert from original plans. If he was lucky, she would go home by herself and leave you two be.

Riddle brought forth the flowers from behind his back and stared at them for a second. A beautiful bouquet of assorted flowers he picked from his carefully tended garden. Daisies, hundred leaved roses, Narcissus', and Rhododendrons were wrapped in pink paper with a red and white stripped tulle bow.

Bringing them up to his nose he took a long, purposeful sniff making sure he felt the expansion of his ribs pressing against his skin and the tension in his shoulders. Everything he did reminded him of you...

he was calm now, the floral scent lingering in his nose giving him something to focus on rather than the dinner you two had last night that grew legs and decided to harass him at your recital.

Great.

How was he going to explain that your ex-boyfriend was coming to visit the box and made dinner plans.

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

Azul wasn't easily bored. Being an avid reader makes you prone, complicit to boredom as you feel it when a book is too long, or the narrative is too slow or just plain old boring. Forcing you to drop the book like it was a hermit crab hidden in itself and reach for another, hopefully less boring book.

He didn't mind talking about business during the show. Having a chance to add a comment or two to the older, richer guest that made them either smirk or chuckle. He was doing good regardless of how many times he had to check his watch in hopes that 30 minutes passed rather than a measly 5.

Azul takes it back, this is torture. Floyd was right, all these up-and-coming singers were just- nothing compared to the sirens and mers down below he wanted to say to the other businessman next to him, but he refrained learning that his daughter was the one who sung that awful aria making him and his companions give her a standing ovation.

Azul wanted a shark to swim up and swallow him whole because oh my sevens.

He felt his inside pocket vibrate during intermission, quickly pulling it out and exuding himself that he 'had to take this call.'

His package had arrived at his deep-sea residence. Rejoice!... Well, it was something to be glad for as he quickly makes an ear, nose and throat appointment for tomorrow. Before pressing 'confirm appointment' an unknown number had texted him. His finger wavered as he looked back at the crack of the box door where he could see jade and Floyd entertaining the small group in his absence.

Pulling down on the notification, it read:

'Hello! This is Riddle Rosehearts. Unfortunately, my mother will not be able to make it if you are still planning to get dinner afterwards but keep that fifth seat open as I have to ask my fiancé.'

...

WHAT

Azul couldn't believe what he was reading. What do you mean fiancé? Who in their right mind would ever think it's a good idea to marry that walking ticking time bomb? yes, he had the brains, Azul bites his lip bitterly thinking back on the one sided academic rivalry. But he was stickler for the rules, high patience, bossy, and downright naive in places Azul has expert knowledge of.

Like love, having a girlfriend in college for a few years but ultimately breaking it off because you were going home. You weren't from here and Azul highly doubted you'd want to stay, ditch your legs and live in the deepest part of the ocean. Humans were a lot like plants, they need sunlight to survive, and drown when there's too much water.

"It was better this way" He leans his head against the cream walls, staring up at the hanging metal sign that had his box's name. "She was going home anyway, I just made it easier."

Azul knew the truth, all three of them did because the pang in heart every time she crossed his mind, never got easier to handle. This is what that mermaid princess must've felt, he thought to himself. Wishing to be a part of her loves world to be with them always and forever. She got her happily ever after, he did not.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, almost shuddering breath. His fingers slowly undoing his black glove, only one, holding it in his hand as he felt the rough texture of the wall behind him. The wiggle of his toes in his socks and shoes, the cool air-conditioned air chilling his nose and bothering his throat.

Just like you taught him all those years ago. With a sigh, Azul hastily typed out his response to the red head and pocketed his phone to head back inside.

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

There was one more act.

One more seven forsaken act before he could leave and be done with this. The old, bot bellied man with salt and pepper facial hair had told him the last act was never put on the play bill or announced until the performance was over.

It was earned by their performer you know what they say, save the best for last. It was the prize of a preforming arts school program, which put the whole picture of tonight into perspective for Azul, he almost wanted to pat himself on the back for passing the test this man set up for him.

Yes, he was a patron of the arts having his own entertainment on weekend for the lounge. Sometimes he would take the stage- only during special occasions such as wooing a potential investor, or to give the crowd something to talk about. But that was all, he'd never once dreamed to pursue it in thoughts it’s a waste of education filled with uncertainties Azul just wasn't willing to take. He needed a steady job with a steady (it's Azul, he's usually always making profit) income and a comfortable life.

Fins off to them for trying though.

Applause broke him from his thoughts as the woman on stage bowed to the applause and walked off. Her dress blended too much into the backdrop of draping red velvet curtains that folded over themselves in a bunched, yet aesthetically pleasing eye. If it was done by anyone else than the master set designer, it would have looked cheap and pathetic.

High heels echoed through the auditorium as the next, hopefully best performer came their way on stage.

"My daughter caught her in a music room one day practicing before dawn and sore she heard the seven's trumpets" The old man laughed as Azul painfully smiled, adjusting himself to catch a bet-

His heart dropped.

Why were you here? Why weren't you why- His throat clammed up and his hair started to fall.

He met Jade and Floyd's shocked faces as they took in Azul's growing distress. Shit.

The audience's applause drowns out his own racing mind as his chair falls back with a muted thud thanks to the swirling carpet.

Look

He looked to Riddle's box as he drew his lower lip between his teeth. The red heads were both standing with applause as Riddle looked down at you with so much love.

His azure eyes were drawn back to stage when they both sat down. His eyes studying every inch and piece of you his glasses allowed him to see. His mouth gapped like a fish as his pupils flared at the reflection of a shiny, large rock on your ring finger.

That could not have been comfortable to wear!!! Yet you waved the poised elegant wave princesses were known of with ease regardless of the hulking ruby that swallowed your finger whole.

He knew how this was going to play out, knew from the moment you opened your mouth and started singing that sevens-forsaken song.

But you never looked at him or his box. Your eyes too focused on the audience and Riddle blasted Rosehearts.

Azul angrily pulled out his phone, sitting down in the chair Jade had set up again with an excuse that you were an old friend of theirs from college.

Friend- Friend?!

Azul's blood boiled as he silently seethed at the thought. Friend?! You were so much more than friends that the title made him furious to even think of you as such. You were lovers, companions, boyfriend and girlfriend. Not fucking friends. you were his and you were his.,

Were

Sevens he could just hear and see Riddle's smugness as it rang like seagulls in his mind.

'You never told me [name] was preforming' the message silently sent, and Riddle didn't even glance at Azul or his blinking phone rather he spotted his seat closer, whispered something to his proud looking mother and leaned against the railing with a stupid dreamy look on his stupid handsome face.

"Think of me-

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

Azul had zoned out in the middle of the song as thoughts of you and past times swam in memories like New Yorkers at the Jersey Shore- like the beach at summertime during a summer holiday.

You had sung this song to him many times, Azul's piano and duet always bringing a smile to your face as you playfully bumped him. The corners of his own lips quirking up in a rare show of genuine emotion.

Your retreating heels stopped when you met his eye, your beaming smile faded like you'd just witnessed Grim eating your leftovers, again. Shit. he could practically read your thoughts as you hurried off stage after your 30 second standing ovation.

You truly deserved it.

A ping was felt in his great pocket. Fumbling with his phone as the new investor patted his back with a heavy hand yapping about how cool it must've been knowing you directly.

"Yes, yes very cool" He forced a smile, jade and Floyd swopping in to tell the guests more about you all while packing up their own things to go home. But they weren't going home.

You refused to meet his eye the moment you stepped into the gallery with Riddle, elbows interlocked and smiling as Riddle guided you through the crowd who couldn't help but commandeer you and stop you for a quick second. Sometimes, you were handed a small card that you gave to Riddle who smoothly gave to his mother who then pocketed it in a small red crocodile pouch that held more organized cards.

"You never told us [name] was your fiancé Riddle, how rude" Floyd pouted as he crushed you in a eel hug, swaying you like a guppy, much to Riddle and his mother's anger.

"That is a handmade damask dress and real ruby’s! Put her down at once!" Riddle's mom seethed through a gritted smile, making sure to keep up appearance despite her harrowing glare and popping veins.

Floyd placed you down gentler than he picked you up, keeping you in his arms for a moment while you steadied yourself in your black sleek heels.

Jade, not one to show mercy but one to read a room, merely gave you a small quick hug not wanting to feel the ire of Riddle's mother like his brother. "Yes, it caught us by surprise when you walked on stage-"

"-I thought you went home."

The group silenced at Azul's word vomit. The businessman widening his eyes at what came out as you exchanged an uneasy look with Riddle.

"She-"

"I-"

You looked to Riddle's mom who nodded, allowing you to talk in her stead as she excused herself to hunt down every person who handed you their business card.

May seven help their mortal souls.

"I... they..." You sighed, quickly greeting a passerby-er as you looked him up and down. "Crowley never found a way. He- the lead he had was a dead end and he let me stay at the school for a few years as the janitor. With the connections of Vil and Kalim, I was able to transfer to a preforming arts school- Siren's Cove, where I studied music for a while..."

Azul didn't like the sad smile on your lips or the glossy look in your eyes. he especially hated how Riddle was there to comfort you, a hand settled perfectly on your waist as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb.

Azul had to physically hold back his late lunch that threatened to crawl up and out of his throat.

"But before all that" You sniffed a few times, trying to play off the sudden wave of emotion as a stuffy nose, but they all knew that was a lie. Because a singer would never have a snuffer nose on the night of her most important performance yet.

This was an investors event after all.

"Riddle was actually invited back to teach a law class- he's a lawyer-"

oh, course he's a lawyer, A multi layered voice gargled

"At Night Raven and in a cheesy rom com fashion, he heard me singing in the hallway while mopping and well-."

"It was love at first listen-"

"Riddle!" You swatted his arm with a laugh as the now lawyer looked at you keeling over in his grasp with a fondness that makes Azul sick.

Why if he were in the ocean, he'd drown that miserable-

"And because of that I was able to convince my mother-" he motioned towards the women in a red pantsuit who was laughing merrily with the group Azul was just with. Just where did she get that champagne?

"- To sponsor [name] in her musical education journey-"

"He actually asked me out after my first performance at Siren's Cove. He was redder than a tomato I'll tell you."

"More like a slap mark-"

"What was that?"

"How wonderful that you both found each other! You look good together" The one thing Azul hated in this moment was how easily he lied through his teeth. It was his job to spew ego stroking comments to customers of his business, lounge, and side hustle. But he also hated how he meant it.

You two.. you fit like puzzles pieces as Riddle stammers to try and save his dignity from the embarrassing confession. It was effortless on both your parts to finish what the other was saying even with the comments and questions from the twins.

.....

"I'm sorry Riddle but we're going to have to reschedule our dinner and catch up, I have paperwork from the investors that I must file tonight or else all that hard work and effort would be for naught" He sighed, shrugging in defeat and ignoring the twin's shared silent conversation.

Stop looking at him like that [name.] Like you can see right past his lies with that infuriating sympathy of yours. Like you know that he's saying this to not have to share a table with you at a sea food restaurant with your fucking fiancé.

He should've been the one taking you out to dinner in celebration tonight, the ancient voice grumbled, and Azul agreed. It should have been him! He should have been your sponsor! Not Riddle and his tyrannical mother! He should have been the one with his arm wrapped around your designer handmade dress that he gifted you for such an occasion.

Siren's Cover. HA! HAHHAHA

That was a coastal all girls higher education school for the musically and artistically gifted. He should've have been the only connection you used to get in- yes yes you passed the audition, but you can't get in without a referral or portfolio-

Right, he blocked your number when he and the twins ditched their phones the second their toes turned to fins. Technology a foreign and useless invention to the mers down under. Blocking you? It was to stop himself from begging you to stay from looking like a loser cry baby octopus.

Maybe… Maybe if he begged you to stay and told you he regretted it... No he could never ask you to stay, leaving everything you know and love behind for him seemed like a foreign concept. So, he never did it, thinking and reading too much into it to the point of inaction and distractions.

On the car ride home Azul listens to a recording he had saved deep in his phone as he watches out the window. It was the last time you had ever sung that sonf with him, it was unfinished as you made a mistake, apologizing as Azul merely plays over it. He remembers the oblivious look he gave you as his voice inside of his phone asks you "what mistake?" Your voice giggles as his panicked flustered noises and squeals were almost drowned out by the clashing piano keys.

You'd think a whale was trying to play with how horrible it sounded, yet the moment his gloved hands were away from the ivory keys and wrapped tightly around your falling form all he could hear was your joint laughter.

"I lov-"

The video was cut off.

Azul is left with the ghost of you cuddled up to him telling him to 'not think of what could've been.'

Sorry [name.]

He's so sorry.

--------

blerp! ;P

wrote in one go instead of doing my psych assignments lets go!!! hope you enjoyed hehe, I'm obsessed with azul x reader x riddle love triangle and will be writing more about them, just probably not this au

edit: whoops, uploaded the unedited version lol

[lamemaster]

For the Love of Leeches

Request: Hi, I hope you're well! Would it be aleight if you could write a drabble of reader x glorfindel where reader has been physically scarred by battle and gets reassured? Can be platonic or romantic. Thank you!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: Romance

Summary: You look into the mirror. Breaking apart every single part of yourself. Trying to rebuild the past that will never come to be. “I do not wish for looks of wonder, pity, or disgust."

AN: Sorry it took so long but here it is! I hope you like it 💖

He watches as you undo your hair, allowing it to fall over your face. In the unbearable summer heat, that has even the hardiest of elves stripping down to minimal layers, you roam the world with long-sleeved robes and your hair undone.

And just as his fingers touch the curtain of hair covering your face, your hands swat them away. “Don’t,” you admonish him, your voice laced with the irritability that the weather has lent to you in exchange for your revolting garb.

“Melda, believe me when I say I know the allure of undone hair. I died for it,” he ignores the creeping cold the memories of his death bring to his scalp. “But even I cannot vouch for this dramatic flair today.” He reaches to push your hair, revealing a sweat-glistening cheek.

You sigh pulling your hair back. “I cannot.” You look into the mirror, your eyes tracing over the deep jagged lines that run all over your face. Lines that never heal. They are as much a part of your face as your eyes, nose, lips. You look at Glorfindel, your mind shrouded in discomfort of the heat. “It is summer…Mirkwood elflings are afraid of scars. Even Thranduil hides his so why can’t I hide mine?”

Glorfindel sighs, “Dear, Thranduil uses glamor, he does not torment himself in this heat.” He pauses at the defiant look in your eyes. “At least be at ease in our home? No one except for me here. Hmm?” He pulls your hair away from your face and for once you allow him to.

“I do not wish for elflings to see these..” You look into the mirror. Breaking apart every single part of yourself. Trying to rebuild the past that will never come to be. “I do not wish for looks of wonder, pity, or disgust. I do not wish for disbelief when we walk together.” Laid bare was your heart. So vulnerable and open for Glorfindel to hold.

Ignoring the oppressive heat, Glorfindel wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his solid form. His chin rests on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. Looking at your reflection in the mirror. “Then look at me.” He lips kiss your cheeks, grazing over the jagged lines of your scars. Gentle yet passionate. “Do not seek others. Just look at me.” 

He tilts your chin up, pressing his lips against yours. “My eyes are always on you, they perhaps have lost the ability to linger anywhere but you.” Your eyes close, allowing his kiss to last beyond the wretched whispers of your mind. 

His thumb rubs your cheek, this hands cup your face. “I love you. My soul, my body, my heart is yours. And nothing will change that.” His lips trail over your face. You are the prettiest, most valuable existence to me. Followed by Asfaloth, of course," he adds with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“My heart rushes at the very sight of you,” he continues as your breath hitches with the feeling of his lips on your skin. “I feel so lost, yet so found. I wish I could show you how wonderful you look from my eyes. How bright you are, my love.” he continues, his voice low and filled with a tenderness you have never felt worthy of.

You turn around wrapping your arms around him. Your head rests on his chest. You both stand wrapped in each other's arms. Forgotten was the heat, summer, or the topic of your conversation. "You are unfairly sweet," you whisper, nuzzling into him, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “So sweet that even the bitterness of these scars fades away when you hold me.” 

Your eyes cloud with a sudden surge of emotion. They brim with love that you cannot hold back. “I cannot live without this sweetness. Without you the world is bitter. Biting place.” You bury your face in his chest. “Do not leave me. No matter the scars…do not leave me please.” You plead, your voice trembling. 

"Slander," his voice is brittle despite the light tone. "I plan to stick with you like a leech. Not even the summer can undo this arrangement, darling."

You feel the steady thrum of his heart, the sudden tightening of his arms around you. A warmth spreads through you, a comfort you cannot get enough of. 

"Good," you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest. "I like leeches." 

And your beloved snorts with minuscule grace he can spare. Which soon turns into a full-blown booming laugh in a matter of minutes.