#consider that I make up the rules here and I say she would swing it like a damn baseball bat if needs must

[theladysherlock]

Lockwood & Co. Appreciation Week Day 1: Favorite Character from the Main Trio

Genuinely my favorite of the three of them depends on which one I’m actively thinking about. It’s Lucy’s turn today! Love that funky little Listener and her unreliable narration.

ID Under the Cut!

[ID: A black-and-white picture of Lucy Carlyle, a young woman with shoulder-length hair and bangs. She looks frightened, but she stands firm, brandishing a sword over her shoulder with two hands against some unseen foe. A halo of jagged white lines surrounds her, fading into a black background.]

[the--rebel--fae]

ME ME FIRST IM FIRST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X FEM READER WHO LIKE A HOUSEWIFE IN THE HOTEL AND TAKES CARE OF NIFTTY AND CHARLE AS IF THEY WERE HER AND ALASTOR CHILDREN

A/N: You my friend, caught my attention first because of such an adorable response. So ask and ye shall receive! Here's hoping I do Alastor justice.

(This is an adorable request btw)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word count: 745

The Hazbin Bunch

Ever since you came to the Habin Hotel, it felt like everyone was a little family. You were an older demon, having died back in the forties. So you have been in hell for quite some time. 

When you first saw the TV commercial you wanted to see what it was all about. Especially since you heard that your old friend Alastor was involved. You haven’t seen him in years. Seven to be exact. And to know that he was back sent butterflies in your stomach. You never told him, but you always harbored feelings for the eccentric radio host. You never had the guts to tell him though since you feared messing up your friendship.

Little did you know, he had feelings for you as well. Alastor was already intrigued with you when you first met. Just the way you carried yourself and treated others. It was also a plus that you hated that infernal TV just as he did. Plus, you were a great conversationalist and probably the only one who could keep up with him when you had the time to dance.

Soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, and even Sir Pentious became family to you. Almost as if they were your children. 

“Nifty my dear, if you truly want to kill those little bugs I suggest you swing your knife in a diagonal direction instead of a perpendicular. That way, they have less of a chance to escape.” You told the little red-headed cyclops girl as she chased around a few stray roaches.

Nifty paused briefly and looked up at you from your seat at the bar. “Ooh! That’s a great idea! Less chance for them to escape hehe.” She giggled creepily and then started back on her roach hunt. 

You shook your head and smiled fondly at the girl. Then turning back to Husk you regarded him with a warm smile. “Well, since I’m here I mine as well indulge in a small drink. What do you have in mind for me today Husk? I do so love the different drinks you concoct. If you worked at a bar back in my days on Earth, you’d be regarded as an artist.”

Husk chuckled as he started up your drink. “Weren’t you alive durin’ prohibition times though?”

You just waved your hand nonchalantly. “Ah, semantics. Besides, you know what they say. Nothing fun ever comes from following the rules.”

“How right you are Cher! Why if people followed the rules, things would be so terribly boring.” Alastor said as he popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Husk handed you your drink and you smiled as you took a sip. “Oh, hello Al. How was the radio show today?”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and his smile shone brightly. Most people would find it off-putting but you personally loved it. “It went splendidly, my dear! Thank you for asking.”

You were about to say something more, but then Charlie came down the main stairs drawing your attention. “Charlie, my dear! How are you, sweetie? Do you feel any better since the latest meeting with that infernal angel? Ad-what’s his name? The first man, I guess?”

Charlie met your gaze and smiled. “I’m doing a little bit better (y/n), thanks. But you don’t have to worry so much. That meeting was a month ago!’

You just chuckle. “That may be so, but I can tell how stressed you’ve been hun.”

Angel Dust clicks his tongue as he takes a seat beside you. “You know toots, sometimes it seems like you're the mom of this place with how ya act.” He then glanced at Alastor who unbeknownst to you was gazing fondly at you. “An if you're the mother of this joint, that’d make ol smiles here the dad.”

“Haha! You know, that doesn’t sound too bad Ma Cherie. I’d consider myself lucky to be assumed to be your husband.” Alastor said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of commenting, you could only blush furiously. Feeling the heat crawl all the way up to your ears, you tried your best to compose yourself and hide your growing smile behind your glass. Almost hoping that Alastor didn’t catch how much his comment made your long-dead heart soar. But he was no fool, he could see that beautiful smile of yours even as you tried to hide it behind the crystalline glass. 

Perhaps you truly were like a little family after all. 

Hope you enjoyed the story my friend! I gotta say, this was an adorable request. I had a lot of fun with it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several page long one shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[beenbaanbuun]

okay okay so question, has san been informed of the relationship dynamics in the house? i’m assuming he knows about matz and darling but was he pre warned about darling and yeo? bc i just thought about it and image they just kinda forgot to mention that they have a bestie with benefits situation, so second nature for them, and then randomly one day san walks in on darling and yeo going at it. the poor guy is 1) startled bc no matter what scenario that’s awkward but 2) he potentially thinks that darling and yeo are doing something wrong. so now he’s left to figure out if he should say something to matz or if that’s just way above his pay grade. idk why this whole scenario is so funny to me but it is. poor sannie😭

san was 100% not prewarned…

of course he knows abouts hwa and joong and the weird pink thing that follows them around like a little puppy, but yeosang and darling?? he’s clueless!

so i’ve mentioned before in this post that sex between the two of them is technically banned unless mommy and daddy are there to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. it just so happens that darling is a little brat and yeosang will do anything to make her happy (even if he won’t admit it) and no one ever said a little head here and there wasn’t allowed… if darling wants to suck yeosang off, it’s not technically against the rules, right?

and that’s absolutely what san walks in on one day…

the dining room door swings open, startling you as you push yeosang’s cock to the back of your throat. you gag around it, immediately pulling off of it to cough your lungs out. you’re half expecting to hear hongjoong scoff at the two of you before commanding yeosang get on the floor too, or perhaps seonghwa to give you a disappointed sigh before getting you to crawl to him. instead all you hear is a tray clatter to the floor.

“what the—”

“san!” yeosang cries, hands flying to his dick to cover his achingly hard member. he nudges you with his knee, trying to get your attention, but you just hit his thigh; can’t he see you’re choking on his dick? “we weren’t doing anything!”

you nod through your coughs, agreeing that you definitely weren’t breaking any rules. what san doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“you weren’t— yeosang, she was sucking you off!” the butler practically screeches. yeosang hushes him harshly in return; the other members of the house definitely do not need to know what transpired between the two of you. “are you— do they—” san takes a deep breath to calm himself, “is this allowed?”

silence fills the room, neither you or yeosang wanting to answer that question. as much as the two of you like to pretend that anything other than actual penetration is allowed, you both know that it really isn’t. if either of your lovers caught you like this, you’d both be punished more severely than you ever have been before.

san swallows thickly, the worst case scenario filling up his mind. but you seem so in love with them? how could you even consider cheating on them with yeosang? he’s just supposed to be a cuddle buddy, isn’t he?

he should tell someone, he decides. after all, his bosses would be fuming if they found out that he knew about this. the last thing he wants is to get fired from the best paying job he’s ever had. he takes a step back to the door, preparing himself to sprint upstairs to hongjoong’s office.

“where are you going?” yeosang warbles, eyes going wide, “are you going to tell hongjoong? please don’t tell hongjoong…”

“well i—”

“san, no,” you say, voice gravelly from the effects of having a dick shoved down it. from your position on the floor, it feels like you’re begging him. perhaps you are; he supposes it won’t be pleasant for you if your lovers find out you’re cheating on them. “please, they’ll be so mad.”

“i need to—”

“it’s not like it’s actual sex,” yeosang tries to reason, “just small things; it barely even counts!”

“it’s still wro—”

“it’s not wrong, per se,” you whine, “they were just too busy to watch and we were both horny…”

“i don’t ca— wait, what?” san pauses, the cogs in his brain turning as he mulls over your words, “you mean to say you two are allowed to do this?”

you shrug.

“they’re supposed to watch but sometimes they’re busy and it’s not like we ever take it further than this!”

and suddenly, san doesn’t care anymore. he shakes his head, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. it’s his fault for digging, he supposes, but he wasn’t quite expecting for it to be a whole voyeurism thing rather than a cheating scandal. it serves him right for sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong.

“no,” he mumbles, “this is above my pay grade… weird fucking family.”

[zarnzarn]

You made me obsessed with poly Odysseus Athena and Penelope I can't spend a minute without thinking about those three

Sometimes a relationship really is just a husband, a wife and a 7 ft tall goddess

HAHA IVE SUCCEEDED COME WALLOW HERE IN MY LITTLE CAVE POOL OF MADNESS HELP ME MAKE MORE!!

but fr I'm so glad you and so many people enjoyed!!!!!!!! they're constantly taking up space in my mind also, i just very much enjoy their craziness together!! here's some more ideas I had for my specific au:

-Olympus is Fucking Scared. imagine ur cold, unemotional stepsister suddenly going from :| and :/ to :) and :D because of three random guys. they're happy for her but ares also regularly begs them to consider the fact that Athena has been replaced by a robot

-Penelope is giddy because FINALLY she can let go of all her etiquette and court the hell out of the beautiful giant woman who's been a part of her life for so long. they have a bit of conflict at the start as Penelope goes full throttle on the romance and Athena is,, overwhelmed and uncomfortable because her feelings are really mixed on it.

but eventually they find a middle ground, where pen and athena have hairbraiding sessions together every morning and pen sends her off with flowers in her hair, maybe some jewelery they both compromise on; weave together flirtingly; Athena'll accept the occassional grand romantic gesture even if she's blushing and rolling her eyes the whole time. and yes she very much still seduces Athena into bed and drags her off into dark corners to make out- of which Athena complains often but never says no too. sometimes she doesn't want to participate, but she's always down to watch <3

-odysseus and Athena don't change much in dynamic post reunion; bffs usually found teasing each other or bickering, except this time they kind of see it when Penelope points out that there is a Lot of Tension, since they're also leaning into each other's space with smirks half the time. they can admit it to each other, but if anyone asks directly they actually are deeply mortified by the fact that they like each other, tsundre style <3 one conversation with hera had them both actually gagging lmao. if left alone together their first instinct is to nap on each other, and maybe their second or third would be to fool around. fourth, if there's a place to spar around; they're quite physically violent with each other and can't quite understand everyone else's mild horror at this- they've literally been fighting since they've met.

(pls imagine hera coming to ask questions of flower arrangements and walk into athena blocking a sword to the face and swinging a kick at odysseus' torso, both of them smiling wide as if they're not trying to kill each other. hera was Not Pleased.)

-telemachus is appearing soon so I won't talk abt him or the rest of the family but! they r also walking around like a bunch of ants to come meet Athena when they feel like it

-athena has a few strands of grey hair from after meeting them. she loves it.

-they try to ignore the rest of the pantheon, for obvious reasons. Athena and Zeus don't talk yet, even though the latter is almost daily trying to reach out to her and awkwardly try to discuss the wedding.

-both of them often come to sit on Athena's throne during Olympus gatherings. whisper and crack jokes to her, very relieved to not be the ones ruling. it takes a bit to get used to the sight of Athena smiling with her hair braided and flowered, leaning into her new spouses fondly, but everyone's very happy for her.

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter Two

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

CW: discussions of food/eating, withdrawal symptoms of alcohol, PTSD (Nesta), and Cassian being an ass.

Sleep found Nesta before she noticed as she settled into the bed that would be her’s for the foreseeable future. Out of habit she cuddled a pillow to her chest, reminding her of the times growing up when she cuddled with stuffed animals that provided a little comfort in her darkest hour.

Her breathing was slow as the stars were still lit in the sky. The AC blew cold air into the room. Nesta snuggled deeper into the pillow when suddenly the door to her room slammed open. Nesta bolted upright, screaming.

Standing in the doorway was Cassian with his obnoxious smirk. His hair was in the same style as it was last night.

“Good morning, Sweetheart. Rise and shine. We’ve got feeding to do.” His voice caked in honey that just felt vile.

“What the fuck are you doing?? Did you ever consider knocking??”

“My house, my rules, Sweetheart. And knocking is a privilege not a right. Hop to it. The horses can’t wait forever.”

Nesta growled, throwing the covers off her before marching to the door. She slammed the door shut, however Cassian stuck his foot in place at the right time.

“Five minutes. Anything more than that and I will purposely bring you to the barns with you over my shoulder.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Nesta snapped.

“Try me, Sweetheart.” Cassian answered with a smile full of teeth.

The rancher pulled his foot out before walking down the steps, whistling a tone. Nesta fought the urge to yell before she closed the door. She mumbled about living with a caveman. Quickly she changed into a set of jeans and an old tshirt before grabbing old barn boots.

When she came home from the courthouse yesterday, she found that Elain had already packed most of her belongings. Feyre and Rhysand must have given her a heads up before she returned home.

Leave it to Elain to pack everything. Nesta shook her head before making her way downstairs.

Nesta made it to the ground floor when the strong smell of bacon hit her. She hoped she wasn’t drooling when she walked from the staircase down the hall. Finding her way into a decent size kitchen with Cassian sitting at the table reading some book. Nesta took a closer look at the spine.

War A Memoir by Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. So other than being attractive, he has nothing else going for him. Nesta thought to herself before grabbing two slices of bacon.

“Oh look, you’re here. You know I can still throw you over my shoulder if you want.” Cassian placed his book down.

“As if I want you to touch me like that ever.” Nesta countered 

“Are you always this fresh in the morning?” 

“It’s for whenever you’re rude to me, I’ll swing right back.”

Cassian held up his hands in surrender.

“You’re gonna need more than just two strips of bacon in your system, Sweetheart. Grab some of the waffles and fruit too for yourself, but eat quickly. Once we’re up, we’re not stopping for a while.” 

“I can’t eat all of this.” Nesta gestured to the food on the counter.

“Sweetheart, something you’ll learn here is that we’re a food family. Everyone here loves to eat. We work all day. And to do the work we do, you gotta have food to keep you going.”

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. Ultimately she didn’t want to put too much in her stomach right now. Not with withdrawals on the horizon. 

“Listen if you don’t want to eat it right now, fine, but know that leftovers are scarce here. If someone finds these waffles in the fridge later they might be gone when you want them.” 

In response, Nesta bit into an apple.

“Suit yourself, Nes.” Then Cassian walked off. Nesta stormed after him. 

“Do not, call me that! My name is Nesta.”

“You’re a court appointed volunteer until you have 375 hours of community service here. I’ll call you whatever I want.” Cassian began to walk away but poked his head back into the kitchen.

“Needless to say, red is a good color on you.” Nesta’s skin flushed.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You’ve had your breakfast, now the horses need theirs.”

**

“And here is the therapeutic barn. It leads to the indoor arena we mainly use.” Cassian said, as he opened the barn doors.

“There’s another barn on site then?” Nesta asked.

“Indeed. It’s where my family and mine horses stay. They’re not therapeutic trained so we tend to keep them separate.”

About ten horses peered from their stalls. Their ears perked up at Nesta’s presence. Cassian smiled at them.

“Good morning, everyone.” The horses all neighed in return.

“Are you some Disney princess or something?” Nesta puzzled, an eyebrow raised.

Cassian laughed and for some reason Nesta wanted to hear it again. Cassian went on to name every horse and pony in the barn as they stood by waiting for their breakfast. She couldn’t tell most of the breeds by their heads, but she spotted at least two Terrasen Cove Horses.

“And this old fellow is Cylde. He was the previous ranch manager’s horse.”

A chestnut with a grayed face hung his head out his stall window. His ears perked at Cassian. The man stroked the horse’s muzzle gently.

“What happened to him? The ranch manager I mean.”

“Her. Rhys’ mom owned and ran this place until the day she died. She died along with her husband several years ago in a car crash. She adopted Azriel and me when we were younger. So we’ve always been a part of the family business.”

Nesta recalled when she first met Rhysand several years ago, Feyre had thought they would get along because they both grew up around horses. However as Nesta loved being an equestrian, Rhysand was more or less tolerated horses.

“Oh…I’m sorry for your loss.” Nesta commented, her tone a bit softer. 

“Thank you. We had to shut down the House of Wind for some time after that. Rhys took ownership of the ranch and hired people to take care of the horses. I was still serving in the military then.” He paused to sort the feed for the morning breakfast before continuing.

“And when I got honorably discharged from the AirForce last year, I attended veteran therapy with horses. From that experience, I knew that I wanted to bring this ranch back to life.” Cassian said before turning to Nesta.

Nesta stood with her hand over her arm. It had been several years since she’d been around horses. Her nails dug slightly into her skin, hoping to keep her emotions at bay.

She could hear Cassian call out for her, but Nesta stopped short when she saw a bay gelding near her. Her heart beat increased as anxiety flooded her veins. This…no this wasn’t Flame. Flame was dead.

Because of her.

All because of her.

Then suddenly she was slammed back into time.

Bright lights, white walls, an alarm for her heart. Nesta stayed in her coated darkness hidden behind closed eyes.

Muffled voices echoed around her in her dreamscape.

“I’m sorry, Miss Archeron. We’re going to have to wait to see if your sister pulls through. She took a nasty fall breaking several bones and getting a concussion. We hope to have her wake up soon, but we can’t promise anything.”

“Nesta…Nesta please forgive me. We had no choice.” A voice whimpered. She felt her hand being held but couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

Where was Flame? Her horse but more importantly he was her best friend. He had been through most of the traumatic events in her life. But where was he now?

She tried to call out his name, but her voice seemed so small, how could anyone hear her? Her breathing grew faster trying to find him, or anyone else. Where was everyone?

“Nesta.” A smooth voice called out to her, erupting her from the dream.

The woman looked up to Cassian. He stood in front of her. A look of worry crossed his face. He made no movement to touch her. Water stung her eyes as she quickly wiped her face with her hand.

“I don’t want to work with the horses. I’ll do whatever else. Just not the horses.”

“Oh uhm, you’re sure? I mean you’re the one with the Olympic medals.”

“Yes. I do not want to work with horses.”

Cassian bit his lip looking around before turning his gaze back onto Nesta.

“That’s…that’s fine. The arenas need to be mucked up and some of the posts around the site. Is that fine?”

Nesta nodded but then turned back to Cassian.

“Shouldn’t I have the keys to a gaiter or something?” Nesta asked but Cassian just chuckled.

“Well sure, however Sweetheart your license was suspended for 1 year starting yesterday. You’re not driving anything even a golf cart.”

“Are you being fucking serious? You don’t need a license for that!”

“Don’t care, Sweetheart. You’re the criminal here out of the two of us. I’m not getting my ass handed to me because you couldn’t move a wheelbarrow.”

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled curses under her breath. Spotting the wheelbarrow in the corner, Nesta walked over and took it. She wheeled out of the barn into the arena, a heavy sigh escaping her as she stood surrounded by sawdust and several droppings of manure.

Jail would’ve been easier than this. It would’ve taken Nesta away from the outside world. From the equestrian world she grew up in. Every scent, sight, and touch felt like it was any other day before the fall three years ago.

Suppress it. We don’t need to think about this now.

Taking a deep breath, Nesta grabbed the rake and wheelbarrow and went to work.

An hour or two later, Nesta finished the arenas. She breathed heavily as she hadn’t been regularly exercising for a long time. She took the wheelbarrow outside, leaving it not far from the gate of the arena. Sweat dripped on her brow, making her huff. It wasn’t terrible outside as they were located in the mountains.

Nesta leaned against a tree trying to remain in the shade for a little while longer to keep herself out of the sun. Mentally she felt a small haze, almost fog like. Her hand wiped more sweat off her as it shook slightly.

 As she looked up, she recognized Cassian’s statue not far from her. She groaned.

There goes the rest of my break.

As Nesta began to walk back to duty, she collided with someone else walking near her. The woman made an oof sound as Nesta’s body hit hers. Nesta looked up to see a woman slightly taller than her with copper red hair with her skin decorated in millions of freckles.

The woman stared at Nesta. “Sorry about that, but you must be the new ranch hand that Cassian mentioned.”

Nesta stared back at her. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m Dr. Gwyneth Berdara. But most call me Gwyn.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?” Nesta asked, tilting her head slightly.

The woman, Gwyn, scuffed. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m older than you…you…I’m sorry, Cassian never mentioned your name.”

“It’s Nesta.”

“Well, Nesta. It’s not really any of your business how old I am now is it?

Oh she has a mouth for sure.

Nesta opened her lips to bark an insult, but she soon closed them. “I’m not wasting my time on this. Besides, you won't like how I continue speaking to you. Most don’t anyway.” 

Gwyn wore a daring grin. “Try me.”

Nesta growled “Go fuck yourself.” 

“Oooh you’re good. Well, Nesta I best be off.”  Gwyn laughed before walking off to the barn.

Nesta stared at her, unsure what exactly happened. Before she could question further, Cassian stood in front of her. His hair was fully up in a bun from how she last saw it that morning. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Pieces of hay stuck to his clothes. 

“So you met Gwyn. Thoughts?” Cassian asked.

Nesta blinked at the unexpected question. “Uhm, I mean, she seems nice? I think she’ll be good for future patients.”

“Patients?”

“She’s a doctor?”

A chuckle left Cassian. “Gwyn has her PhD. She’s actually the patient.”

It was a rich sound, like if chocolate cake were to laugh.

What the fuck does that even mean?? Nesta shook her head before relying on the information Cassian gave. She stood dumbfounded as his words sunk in. 

“Wait, she’s the patient?? How the fuck..?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure about all of the details. She lives right near the ranch. She emailed us a month ago asking if her and her therapist could come up and see the horses. This is her second time here. Although, something isn’t clicking with her, but her therapist swears she knows what she’s doing.

“And you believe that?”

“Absolutely not. But she’s not handling the horses so I don’t want to argue too much. I mean she could run her mouth and really put us into jeopardy and…”

His voice trailed off as Nesta shifted her stance, three times in a row. Her left wrist twitched. The sweat felt like it was drenching all over her clothes, down her back.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her breathing became rapid.

Are you okay? Nesta? What’s wrong? The voice was muffled. Nesta couldn’t respond. Her mouth was tied and dried out. She felt her body move, but she didn’t know how she was walking and sitting on something. A gentle voice, the same one as above, was still speaking.

It’s probably the withdrawal. Been down that road before and I do not envy you. Although thankfully for you, you’re not quitting in the middle of a war zone.

Weight rested on her neck, but it was gentle. It felt nice. Her skin felt clammy and weird, however Nesta’s breathing began to slow. 

There she is.

“Sweetheart?”

Nesta looked up to see hazel golden eyes staring at her. The weight of a hand on her neck, and the other on her cheek. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then suddenly she pushed Cassian off her, causing him to fall on his ass into the dirt.

“Shit!” He looked up, offended.

She stood up taking a few deep breaths.

“Nesta.” Another voice called out to her. She groaned at the voice. Turning, Nesta found Eris standing there with her appointed probation officer.

“Oh lovely. The withdrawal look really brings out your eyes.” He said coolly.

She glared. “Fuck you.”

Eris held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary. Come along now. We need to start our meeting.”

He came up behind her, eyeing her up and down. Eris had been her lawyer for years now, since the first arrest three years ago for public intoxication. Had seen her on the worst of her days, so his behavior wasn’t new to her. In a weird way, she almost preferred it. It wasn’t sugar coating anything. He was blunt.

The officer she didn't recognize, but he stood several inches taller than Eris. The lawyer turned his attention to the ranch manager getting off the ground. Cassian dusted the dirt off the backside of his jeans, glaring at his boots.

“Thank you for trying your best at calming her down. Do you have a private room we could use?”

Cassian clenched his jaw for a moment before pointing to the other barn behind him. That was the private barn that he mentioned earlier on in the day. The horses there were all owned by Cassian and his family.

“There’s a tack room first door on your right. Should be a table with some chairs. Meet there.”

A twitch of guilt weighed down Nesta. She didn’t mean to push him away that hard. She began to speak, hoping an apology could be formed. However Cassian simply ignored her. Then he stalked off in the opposite direction.

Eris sighed. “What a bunch of dramatics. Let’s get this show on the road. Come on, Nesta.” 

Nesta didn’t move. She kept looking at Cassian. 

His figure blurred into the background as Nesta’s eyes blinked, before she fell.

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan

[sequinsmile-x]

hello bestie, i may have a fic idea… im not sure if you have ever written this but aaron just got back from a case being all badass and taking down the bad guy but when he comes home, his little girl is forcing him to play ‘cashier’ with her and he takes his role as cashier very seriously. serious at work, serious play time with his little girl. emily jokes that if he retires from the fbi he should work as a cashier 😂

hiiii bestie!

I thought that the 'This is Our Place' universe would be the perfect place for this.

I was out at my movie club tonight with my friends, but here's a little something I wrote on my lunch break earlier. Really hope you like this <3

The winner of the poll I ran on what to write next is a fic where Aaron's hearing loss gets worse, so keep an eye out for that in the next couple of days!

-x-

This is Our Place, We Make The Rules - Chapter 10 - Playtime

A collection of non-sequential mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss and their life at home.

Chapter 10 - Playtime

Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 1.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Lunch with her mother was never Emily’s favourite way to spend a Saturday afternoon. 

It was something she got through, gritting her teeth every time Elizabeth made a comment that set her on edge. Nothing was out of bounds for her mother. Anything was up for criticism whether it was Emily’s job, something to do with the house or, her least favourite, her parenting choices. Usually, she’d enjoy a glass of wine with lunch but right now she couldn’t even do that. 

She groans as she gets out of the car, her hand pressed against her bump as she does, grunting as she stands up straight. Another baby hadn’t been part of the plan. When she started to feel not like herself, sore breasts, nausea and mood swings even she couldn’t deny, she thought she was starting the menopause. It was only when her doctor told her that she was pregnant that she even considered it a possibility. Once the shock wore off she felt nothing but happiness, the thought of having another baby, of making their life even more chaotic than it already was suddenly all she wanted. 

They were having another girl, news that seemed to complete their family the moment they found out, and Emily was excited to meet her. To know if she’d look more like her or Aaron, if she’d look like Benjamin or Nancy did when they were newborns. 

She smiles as she lets herself into the house and she’s immediately met by Benjamin running up to her, his arms tight around her legs before she even has the door closed. 

“Hi Mommy, missed you,” he says, squeezing her tighter, and she bends down to pick up the four-year-old, hiking him up so he’s sitting on top of her bump. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she replies as she adjusts her stance to take the extra weight of him, “Mommy missed you too,” she says, kissing the side of his head and breathing him in. The scent of his shampoo calms her, releases the tension in her chest that only her mother could create, “What did you do whilst I was gone?” 

“Playing games with Jack,” he answers and she smiles at him, already walking towards the living room where she can hear the video game they’d been playing.

“That’s fun,” she says, smiling as they walk into the living room. Jack turns to smile at her and he scrambles up off of the couch, wrapping his arms around her, “Hi Jack.” 

“Hi Mom,” he says, his eyes flashing with concern as he steps back, “How was Grandma Liz?” 

She clears her throat to cover a laugh, his serious expression something he’d got from Aaron. She hates that Jack has started to pick up on the tension between her and her mother. Elizabeth was a good grandmother, a better one than Emily ever thought she’d be capable of being. She wanted to protect her children’s relationship with her mother, especially since they had very few family members. 

“She was okay, honey. She said she’s excited to see you soon,” she says, lowering Benjamin onto the couch, “Where are your Dad and sister?” 

“In the playroom,” Jack says as he passes Benjamin a controller to distract him. Emily smiles her thanks at him and she walks through the house, turning to look at her sons one more time, smiling at the sight of them playing together, before she carries on. 

She stops as she turns the corner into the playroom, pressing her lips together to stop her smile from blooming too widely at the sight she’s met with. 

Aaron and Nancy were playing with her wooden supermarket, the little girl's favourite toy. Clearly, the decision had been made that for once Aaron was the shopkeeper and Nancy was the customer, and Emily steps into the doorway to watch them play. 

He’s sitting on the floor, cramped into the spot where Nancy would usually stand behind the wooden counter, with a tiny name tag on his shirt with ‘Daddy’ written on it in his handwriting. He looks up at her, smiling as their eyes meet, before he turns his attention back to their little girl. Nancy hadn’t turned around, seemingly unaware her mother was home, instead concentrating on her game with a level of seriousness she had inherited from Aaron.

“Good afternoon ma’am,” Aaron says as Nancy puts the little basket in her hands on the counter, “Did you find everything you needed?” 

Nancy nods, her hands clasped in front of her as Aaron scans all the fake groceries, diligently packing them into the paper bag he’d set up on the end, “Yes.” 

Emily covers her mouth to stop herself from making a noise, the overwhelming joy and love she feels as she watches them together threatening to burst free. She places her other hand on her bump, excitement at the prospect of watching Aaron be a dad to the baby shifting around inside of her forcing tears to press at the back of her eyes. It was hard to think sometimes that this man, the man currently packing fake fruit and vegetables under the instruction of their two-year-old daughter, was the same man who had once attempted to throw her out of his office. It felt like nothing less than a privilege to see him like this, to be the one who saw the softer side she would have once claimed he didn’t have. 

“Do you have your loyalty card?” Aaron asks and Nancy hands a card over, which Emily can see is Aaron’s actual loyalty card for their local grocery store, “Thank you, your total is $20.15.” 

She hands over the fake money and takes her groceries back, it’s only then the toddler turns around and notices Emily standing in the doorway.

“Mama!” She squeals, dropping her toys and running over, her arms already up in the air. 

“Sweetie, be careful with Mommy-” Aaron says as he starts to stand up, grimacing as his knees pop.

“She’s fine,” Emily says, raising her eyebrow at her husband as she picks Nancy up. She kisses her daughter’s cheek, “Mama missed you.” 

“Missed Mama,” she replies, rubbing her face against Emily’s neck, her tiny fingers tangling in her hair. 

“You tired baby?” She asks and Nancy shakes her head, but Aaron nods, confirming that the little girl hasn’t had her nap yet, “Well Mommy is, so why don’t we sit down, huh?” 

Emily grunts as she sits down on the couch in the corner, purposely ignoring the way her husband raises an eyebrow at her. He joins them, his arm around her shoulders as he kisses the side of her head. 

“Hi by the way,” he says, smiling as she turns her head to look at him, taking the opportunity to stamp a kiss against her lips. 

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him again. She rubs her hand up and down their daughter’s back, a sure-fire way of making her fall asleep that had worked ever since she was a tiny newborn. 

“How was your mom?” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “The same as usual,” she grumbles, tilting her head to look up at him, “Although now she has a fun new thing where when I ordered my meal she told me I’m ‘carrying the weight’ differently this pregnancy,” she rolls her eyes, “Which is just her way of saying I’m fat.” 

“She said that?” he asks, furrowing his brows, his irritation bubbling in his chest, “She’s fuc…” he drifts off when she raises her eyebrows at him, her eyes pointing at a half-asleep Nancy, and he clears his throat, “She’s unbelievable.” 

“Nice save,” she says, kissing his jaw, “It’s fine. It’s done now. I won’t have to see her for a while.” 

He sighs and rests his hand on her bump, smiling when he feels the baby shift, “That’s true. I just wish she wasn’t like that at all.” 

“Me too,” Emily replies, blowing out a slow breath. She wanted more than anything to have a decent relationship with her mother, the one she knew she’d have with her kids when they were older, but she knew that wasn’t possible. She’d manage with what she had - especially when she had this to come home to, “Honey?” 

“Yes, sweetheart.” 

“If you ever decide to leave the FBI, I think you have a promising career as a cashier.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[starsfic]

Contract Signed

So, I came up with a Beauty and the Beast AU for Spicynoodles but right now, not working on a full fic. I haven't had a lot of time to write because I've been really busy this semester, so I figured I would write the opening as a little warm-up.

Wanna support? Here's my Ko-Fi!

-_-

Once upon a time, there was a wealthy kingdom, ruled by a proud king and queen. The mighty king had surpassed his predecessors and had led the kingdom into a golden age. The beautiful queen had carved her way into society from her status as a banished princess, making sure she and her husband were respected far and wide. They were proud of their accomplishments. Most of all, however, they were proud of their son.

Their son, born on the coldest and longest night of the year, was born with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue. The tutors of the young boy called him a genius and he soon developed a knack for machines. He sometimes missed social cues and sometimes got wrapped up in his own head to the point of being impractical or allowing his temper to get the best of him, but as he grew int a handsome young man, they grew into being charming. It was clear that the prince was the jewel of the kingdom and, on his twentieth birthday, the king and queen threw a massive celebration.

The party was in full swing when a hunched over beggar woman came to one of the royals. Nobody knows what happened next. Some say that the prince, drunk on ego, rudely dismissed the peasant. Some say that the queen, wanting nothing to go wrong for her sweet boy, coldly dismissed the peasant, or the king, wanting nothing to go wrong for his beloved heir, demanded that she leave in a yell that drew everyone’s attention. Whatever happened, whether it was the son or mother or father, the result was the same.

The beggar woman revealed herself to be a powerful enchanter, seeing if the kingdom was worthy of being in an alliance with. However, the rudeness they had been given suggested not.

The prince was cursed to reveal his true hideous nature, becoming a monster. The enchanter ended the insult by explaining that, if someone could truly love the prince as he was, the prince would be cured. 

However, his new monstrous form was a source of fear for the kingdom that once respected its prince. Fearing for his safety if he stayed, the king and queen sent their son to a far-off corner of their kingdom. There, in a beautiful manor, he waited to receive the guests that his parents sent, hoping one day that one of them would be able to break his curse.

However, so far, their hopes were weak…

“I thought the payments would be each week?”

“New orders from the king and queen,” the man in front of him huffed. He had introduced himself as General Ironclad, the head of Princess Iron Fan’s guard and the head general of the Demon Bull army. As Qi Xiaotian watched him fold his arms, he had to admit. He showed his experience in the battlefield. “The last girl ran screaming and refused to be bribed back. So, your family will be paid for each day you’re gone.” The general raised a hand to massage his brow. “We were already dealing with the cut down from payment each month.”

Xiaotian glanced back at the contract. The terms were simple, as the poster explaining this job promised. He needed simple.

Recently, Xiaotian’s family had come into some…issues. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but his father, Zhu Pigsy, had broken his arm and back. (Based on the fact that Pigsy refused to explain, he was pretty sure the accident had been an embarrassing one.) The man ran a small inn that provided three square meals to their guests. Unfortunately, with Pigsy’s inability to pick things up, their service was lower quality. That wasn’t great, especially considering that their rival inn was right across the street.

Xiaotian had tried his best to pick up the slack, but he didn’t really know how to cook noodles. Pigsy had only started training him on how to cook, and all he knew was the one family favorite. He did much better checking people in and delivering food across town. Tang, Pigsy’s husband, was trying to help, but he was lazy and had weak ankles.

Long Xiaojiao, Xiaotian’s best friend and a noblewoman, had tried to offer money to hire more people, but Pigsy had refused. He didn’t trust people with his kitchen. Instead, he reduced prices, which was only a small bucket of relief.

They were running low on funds, and fast.

So, Xiaotian had decided to try and find some other part-time work, which had led him to discover the poster about Prince Red.

It was an infamous story by now. Six years had passed since the curse had been cast. Xiaotian himself had assumed it was just a fairy tale with the current royals’ names attached when the news first broke out. Now, however, all he heard about the prince were the twenty-somethings sent to try and break the prince’s curse and running out whenever he scared them off. 

They weren’t forced, however. Red himself had apparently kicked out the terrified prisoner sent to him and had sent word to his parents to send him volunteers. They did this by paying volunteers huge amounts. At first, it had been for each year the person went. Now, apparently, it was each day.

The amount was huge.

Enough to give Pigsy and Tang a comfortable nest egg, enough to close the inn for a little while while Pigsy recovered. Just for one day. Xiaotian stared at the contract, willing himself to focus.

He just needed to try for a week, according to the rules. Money would be delivered to your family or a person you trusted- he wrote Pigsy’s name. If you got hurt, the royal family would personally cover your medical bills…

“Hurt?”

“The prince always had a fiery temper,” Ironclad huffed. “And now he has control over flames.” He leaned forward, forcing Xiaotian to meet his eyes. “They learned this because a man broke a clock he was working on. He got so mad, he picked up a pillow and set it on fire before throwing it at him. Poor man’s hands were out of commission for weeks.”

Xiaotian blinked. “...why did he break the clock?” He probably should’ve been more terrified by the fact that the prince could set him on fire, but hey. He always noticed the less important details.

“No idea.” Ironclad leaned back. “You can back out now. No shame in that. The guard will take you home.”

Xiaotian glanced back. Said guard, a guy who had introduced himself as Bob, waved. He managed to wave back before glancing back down. It was tempting. He was an artist. Every morning he would poke his head outside and try to draw the sky as it was in that moment. Pigsy had hung his portrait of him, mid chop, up in their personal quarters. The idea of losing his hands, possibly losing his touch while he recovered, was terrifying.

Equally as terrifying was the idea of the inn being boarded up, Pigsy alone in the rain, watching as his life’s work was taken away…

“I’ll do it.” Before he could think about it some more, Xiaotian wrote down his name on the dotted line. The moment his name was down, paired with his trademark monkey face, he shoved it away. Ironclad raised a brow but nodded, reaching over. His movements were smooth as he rolled up the scroll. “When do I go?”

“It depends. Usually, a person needs a day or so to say goodbye-”

“Can we go now?” How was he supposed to admit that he snuck out of his home, leaving behind a note to say goodbye? Xiaotian stood, reaching over and grabbing his bag. He tried to ignore Ironclad’s questioning look at how small it was. “I said goodbye before I left.”

Ironclad pulled his eyes away from the bag to nod. “Fine. We can go now.”

“Thank you,” Xiaotian stood. “I hope I can help the prince.” Probably not, but hey. It wouldn't hurt to try.

Ironclad didn’t say a word.

[void-botanist]

Character Cuddle Scale: AOM

I got tagged four separate times for this game so this is part one, for @vacantgodling's tag. I also decided not to stop myself and pretty much included everybody lmao.

Rules: Rate your OCs based on how they handle cuddling/being cuddled.

Based on a scale of 0 (cuddly as a cactus) to 10 (could be paid to cuddle professionally):

Sid: 5/10. He doesn't seek out cuddles from most people (the main exception is Devon but that's complicated) but he will generally accept cuddles when they're offered. However if it's his mom offering them (his dad never does), 1/10, please make it stop.

Avis: 4/10. She cuddles Sorian (or used to) and Antony and that's it. She would cuddle Sid if it felt necessary (read: he is having an extra bad time), and she will touch him casually, but in general she's a "you stay over there and I'll stay over here" kind of person. She used to be more touchy with Phil, but now things are weird with her (Phil disagrees), and she eventually gets to that level of trust with Leon and Edith but they can keep their pervert cuddles to themselves.

Sorian: 7/10. He's a good, if clingy, cuddler, but until he knows where things stand, he won't be forward about it. He'll wait until the other person cuddles him and then take that as a general invitation. He misses cuddling Avis a lot. In AOM he would rather die than say this to her face. Post-divorce he becomes very attached to cuddling Leon and Edith. However he has never been able to deal with Horatio cuddling him. He instantly goes into stiff awkward mode because what is he supposed to do??? This is why Horatio stopped cuddling him almost immediately.

Horatio: 10/10. Cuddling is his favorite thing, aside from all his other favorite things. He has no qualms about asking to cuddle anyone he considers a friend (though he thinks Graham might be too cool for that. maybe). For him it's an important part of friendship, and while he will absolutely respect it if someone declines his cuddles he does die a little inside. He can often be found with someone else cozy in his lap. You could probably convince him to cuddle professionally, but, like, he has a job already, and that job is plants.

Emma: 3/10. She does not accept cuddles from anyone except Donovan and Sid, and Sid has not wanted to cuddle her since he was a small child. She's not terrible at cuddling itself but she will talk the entire time regardless of whether you respond, and will only talk about what she wants to talk about.

Donovan: For literally everyone except Emma he is a 0/10. For her, he's like a 6/10. He will commit to the bit and he's pleasantly warm but from Emma's perspective he loses points for having the conversational skills of a brick wall.

Leon: 6/10. He's a casually touchy person, but not a cuddly one in general. However if he does not get cuddled regularly he will shrivel up and die. He loses points for not being very flexible about accepting cuddles (all his swinging partners are great but to be honest he'd rather be cuddling his wife. or Sorian) and also for being bony.

Edith: 8/10. She has none of Leon's pickiness and she will cuddle whoever wants to. The warmer they are, the better. But she does struggle with not accidentally stabbing people with her horns.

Celia: 5/10. She's very warm and soft because she's fat, but a little bit inconvenient to cuddle with because of her various face spikes. She also is unlikely to cuddle you unless she's fucking you, either recently or just in general (exceptions are made for Horatio and her ferasca cousins). If someone is outside of those two categories of "fucking" or "family member" she honestly just thinks they're probably weird about ferasca.

Allison: 4/10. He's also soft due to being fat, and he's tall enough that he can wrap around most people, and he's mostly a sweetheart, but he is also kind of prickly and anxious when it comes to touching. If you're Celia, you get 10/10 cuddles. If you're anyone else…eh.

Marcus: 4/10. It's complicated, though, because he is both aloof (doesn't want to get close to people emotionally) and kinda touch-starved. He really wants to go home…among his spouses he's more a 7/10, kind of stiff and anxious internally but trying hard to be comforting and cozy. Because Horatio is Horatio he gets the 7/10 treatment, though it's really more him that's doing the comforting than Marcus.

Colin: 4/10. He's kinda weird about touching people in general. Most of his cuddling happens with whoever he's dating (eventually he will cuddle them whenever) or whoever he's hooking up with (he will cuddle them after the fact like his life depends on it).

Palmyra: 8/10. She doesn't cuddle that much, but when she does, she puts her all into it. You WILL feel cozy and loved and accepted. There's no way out of this.

Antony: 9/10. He'll let anyone cuddle with his fat cozy self, because it's fun and because he loves that feeling of being trusted. Really his only downside is that he gets bored of it and restless after a while.

I'll tag @sarahlizziewrites, @kahvilahuhut, and @kk7-rbs plus anyone else who wants to join in!

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redacted-tober 2023 Day Twenty-Two

Prompt: Sam & Autumn

Pairing: Sam/Darlin

cw: none

Summary: Apple picking was the most autumnal thing I could think of, so let’s put the two fictional babes on a date.

Read on AO3 here!

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

“Darlin, have you considered exactly what you're gonna do with all these apples?”

“Eat them,” Darlin replies simply, their head popping out from branches and leaves to grin down at him. Sam can’t help but grin back, thinking they’re so cute and carefree with twigs in their hair, throwing apples down from up high and knowing Sam will catch them.

“When I said ‘please eat more goddamn fruits and vegetables’, I didn't mean three bushels full,” he says with a laugh, sweeping out an arm at the overflowing baskets of apples he’d only been able to handle thanks to his vampire strength.

“I don’t like to half ass shit,” they say, lobbing another one at his head like a cabbageball. “And you were the one who wanted to go apple picking.”

“As a date, not to stock up for the end of days.” Further down the orchard, an Autumn Acres employee tries and fails to pretend she’s not glaring at them and considering calling her manager. Darlin, having spent so much of their childhood free and footloose in the Dahlia forests, had decided climbing and swinging was the best way to go about it, rules be damned, and Sam would hardly think of stopping them when they’re so pleased with themselves.

“Well, maybe you should, since you’ll probably be around for it, you old gee-“ A branch bends wrong in Darlin’s grasp as they move from tree to another, and Sam is there with superhuman speed, catching his wolf in his arms.

“An old what now?” he asks, holding them off the ground and close to his chest with ease. His Darlin wraps an arm around his shoulders and nips playfully his chin.

“You old showoff,” they say affectionately, softly kissing away the sting of their teeth. “C’mon, let’s go load these into the car and give them to the pack. Marie’ll take a basket all on her own and make pie if you’re there.”

[peachymilkandcream]

Hey I saw in your rules that you don’t do any writing regarding the characters death but I was wondering if you would do a one shot of Levi reacting to Evelyn trying to end her life .

I’m just asking as I wasn’t sure if that falls under character death 

Love ur work🤭❤️

Levi x Evelyn -> Meant To Be Yours

(A/N: Yes the title is a Heathers reference, yes this will be inspired off that, yes you should listen to the song while reading, and YES YES YES to this request for reading the rules and being so considerate! Happy you like my work and thanks for requesting!)

WARNINGS: suicide attempt, violence, manipulation, implied noncon/dubcon, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, domestic violence, forced marriage, imprisonment, etc.

============================================

Levi had thought his wife knew by now that he demanded she meet him at the door when he came home. Her duty was to welcome him home properly, he was after all, her entire world, her whole existence. She should be waiting at the door hoping that he'll come home so she can rush into his arms and give him all the affection and love he deserved. When she didn't it made his already annoyed mood significantly worse, if she knew what was good for her she'd suck him off as an apology.

Levi untied his cravat, letting it hang around his neck as he stomped his feet up the stairs. If she had fallen asleep then there would be some forgiveness, especially if she woke up from his footsteps and greeted him as she should.

The bedroom door was locked, no surprise. He could break it down but reasoning with her sometimes worked so it was worth a shot.

He knocked on the door firmly. "Evelyn? Open the door."

When there was no answer he huffed and rubbed his temples, of course she was like this. They had gotten into a brief fight the other night because he had told her what his parenting standards would be for the both of them once she was pregnant and she had the nerve to have an opinion. Now she was being difficult, which was just what his throbbing headache needed.

"Evelyn open the door please." Simple manners should have been enough, but when she still didn't respond he pressed further. If a half-assed apology led to willing sex he was all for it. "Look, can we not fight anymore? You have a right to voice your opinions, and I have a right to tell you how fucking stupid they are."

The silence continues, now it was pissing him off. If she thought that he was going to come to her begging on his knees for forgiveness she had another thing coming.

"Don't make me come in there Evelyn."

Once again she ignored him, his temper going from bad to worse.

"I'm going to count to three and you better open this goddamn door!" There was a pause. "One-" He didn't even hear the sound of footsteps. "Two-" His anger reached a boiling point, this kind of disobedience would not be tolerated.

"Fuck it-!"

His foot slammed into the door, freeing it from the lock and swinging open, hitting the wall. He didn't care if it left a dent, he didn't care about that at all, he just wanted to find her and punish her.

"Evelyn!? Get your ass out here, don't think that you can hide until I forgive you."

He rushes into the bathroom, horrified to see her head under the water of the bathtub. The bubbles reaching the surface the only inclination she hadn't succeeded in her little suicide attempt.

Without delay Levi grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her face to the surface, causing her to gulp in air hungrily, coughing up water in the process.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"

"Levi-"

He drags her into the bedroom, throwing her on the couch and checking for any possible injuries. Finding none, he paces back and forth in front of her.

"I know you hate our marriage Evelyn but what the hell has gone through your mind!? Killing yourself!? Are you that stupid!? That desperate to get away from me!?"

She stares him down, defiantly.

"So that's how it's going to be huh? Nothing to say? Funny, considering you won't ever shut your big mouth about everything else!" He runs his hand through his hair angrily. "You can't even have basic necessities anymore since you'll try and find some way to kill yourself or escape." He pauses when he gets an idea. "That's it."

Evelyn seems to read his mind, shaking her head. "Oh no, Levi no- I won't try it again-"

"I can't trust you on that wife. And until I do I know just the place for you." He grabs her by the arm roughly, dragging her through the house until they reach the basement. The basement where all her fears and horrors take place.

He throws her onto that thin mattress, she hoped to never come back down here again. Down here all of Levi's sick and twisted nature was truly revealed.

She glanced at the section of floor that went from stone to dirt, graves he had dug to hide the victims of those who stood in their way. This place was the thing of nightmare, and now she was stuck down here until who knows when Levi forgave her.

He pressed a kiss on her head. "Let's see how living life with me will look after you think it over my dear."

She clings onto him as he starts to leave, begging him tearfully not to go. But he kicks her off, hurrying up the stairs and locking the door, she was in the dark with all of the ghosts reaching out their hands for her.

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 20

Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room. 

I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?” 

I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”

I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.

Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.

I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips. 

“Gods, that’s good.”

“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.

“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”

“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”

Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”

“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”

“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.

“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door. 

“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.

Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair. 

I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.

I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.

He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.

“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.

I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair

“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi. 

He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp. 

The sensation slams into me like a truck.

My body goes rigid,  hands clenching into fists on the table. 

My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.

The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.

My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.

Which is, very decidedly, not an option. 

Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.

I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.

Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”

“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”

Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.

Fucking children.

“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor. 

I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.

“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.

Violet.

“Yea. I will be.”

I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room. 

I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there. 

I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.

I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.

Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.

I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.

I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.

A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.

My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell. 

She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.

She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.

Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.

“Is  that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.

I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.

Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”

“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.

Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.

“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”

Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.

I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.

“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.

For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out. 

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.

“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this. 

My nightmare and my daydream.

Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers. 

There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.

“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”

“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”

“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”

My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.

She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.” 

Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.

The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”

Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of  hot, needy desire rocks into us both. 

She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.

The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”

“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”

My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.

“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”

Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath. 

“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”

I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother. 

There’s no choice to be had. 

“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”

“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”

“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.

Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”

“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.

“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored. 

She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”

Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”

She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”

My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.

I come up short.

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.

“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.

She amazes me.

“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.

As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.

“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.

I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”

Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.

“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”

Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”

She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable. 

The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks. 

I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.

And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”

My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.

Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.

“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.

“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.

Good girl, Violence. 

“There you go. Keep going.”

She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration. 

I want to put my mouth on her.

“I’ve got the door shut.”

I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.

“Great. Lock it.”

I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.

“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”

She nods.

“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”

A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.

She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.

My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.

Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.

And then she smiles at me.

Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.

 My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.

I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in. 

And then Garrick’s words hum through me.

“Be smart.” 

I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”

“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.

The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.

“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes. 

To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control. 

“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.

“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.

I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.

There’s none left.

“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine. 

I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.  

But it’s not enough.

It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access. 

She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily. 

Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. 

“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine. 

She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.

“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.

I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth. 

At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.

Dangerous.

My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.

Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.

I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.

The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.

I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.

Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear. 

She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.

I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss. 

I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.

There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.

What the fuck.

Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.

She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.

The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.

She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.

I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.

This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.

And me. 

Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.

I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.

I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.

“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour. 

Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything. 

“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.

“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”

“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.

She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.

The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.

[lemonluvgirl]

If you don't mind my being presumptuous, I wanted to share a prompt idea I thought you'd be great for: "in a slightly alternate 12 with no reaping but where indentured servitude is legal, Katniss signs up as an indentured servant to Mellark’s bakery. Katniss and Peeta fall in love and eventually marry, much to the shock and horror of the other merchant families."

Hi! Sorry about the late reply but I've been getting over a cold this past week! I finally had a chance to work on this great prompt and here's what I came up with. It isn't the full story, but I like to think it's a nice starting off point for the canon-divergent idea you had. Hope you like it!

I call this drabble:

Indentured.

The words tasted like ash in her mouth. 

“I promise to abide by the laws and rules set forth by my master, to serve humbly, without complaint until the terms of my contract are considered fulfilled.” She repeated the verbal part of the contract as the indentured servitude liaison instructed. 

The look on Mr. Mellark’s face was solemn, even perhaps a bit sad. The two older boys seemed neutral, and the witch looked supremely pleased like the cat who caught the mockingjay by the tail. 

Only the youngest son seemed outwardly upset. 

“This is barbaric.” He grumbled under his breath, eyes blazing with anger. 

Katniss’ brows scrunched together, wondering if he opposed the indentured servitude law on principle or if it was something more. 

He opened his mouth to say more as his father picked up a pen a moved forward to sign the thick packet of papers that would make her the legal property of the Mellark family for the next three years, but his mother’s hand flew fast, and hard to smack the back of his head in warning. 

No further objections were voiced. 

The i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed and money was exchanged. 

Katniss sold the next three years to buy her sister Prim’s way out of being sent to the community home. 

Since Katniss was over 18 and legally employed, she could keep their small shack in the Seam, and provide a home for Prim, even though their mother had died the winter prior. 

All that was left was to shake hands with Mr. Mellark, which she did numbly. From over his shoulder, Mrs. Mellark shot her a wicked smirk. 

In the back of her mind she prayed that the three years would go by fast. 

.

.

.

6 Months in

Katniss struggled to swing the axe. Her hands were chapped and she had no mittens to shield them from the bitter cold. 

While her contract with the Mellarks ensured she was fed, given hand-me-downs clothes, and got to keep her small home in the Seam, they were under no obligation to pay her any wages. 

Without wages, she had no money to buy gloves after hers fell apart. 

So she suffered in silence, as she tried to muster up the strength to split the remaining firewood before she could be released for the day. 

The sun had long disappeared in the shortened daylight hours and the wind was picking up something vicious. 

It would be snowing soon. 

Katniss lifted the axe over her head and ignored the pins and needles feeling in her hands as she brought the axe down. 

Her grip on the axe faltered slightly and the wood split incorrectly. Pain rebounded up her arm and she dropped the axe clutching her throbbing, freezing hands to her chest and biting her lip to keep from crying out. 

But despite her best efforts, a small sob-like sound escaped her. 

From nowhere a hand reached out and gently turned over her palms. 

Katniss sucked in a breath. 

She looked up into the eyes of the youngest baker’s son and saw only empathy. 

If anyone else knew the sting of Mrs. Mellark’s vindictive side, it was her youngest son. Peeta Mellark was often assigned difficult and demeaning tasks, the same as her. 

He held her hands so gently she could barely feel his large palms cupping hers. His eyes took in the sorry state of her abused palms and he made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. 

“You’ve been using too much lye when you was the laundry. It’s ruining your hands.” He said quietly. 

Katniss didn't know what to say to that because it was true. But it was also the way his mother insisted the family’s clothes be washed. The effect left her skin rough and irritated even before she was assigned firewood duty. 

So instead of uselessly pointing out that there was nothing she could change about the situation, Katniss simply shrugged and tried to pull her hands out of his grasp. 

But he held on firmly, but still gently. 

“You need to soak them in salve when you get home.” He told her seriously. 

Katniss almost snorted with amusement, except it wasn't really funny. 

All of her mother’s old tonics and salves were used up. Since she had signed on to become indentured to the Mellarks. Katniss had to cut down on her hunting and foraging time. Mrs. Mellark kept her busy from sunup to practically sundown. Katniss hadn’t had time to properly stock their stores with herbs before winter fell. She could barely afford to keep Prim out of rags with the game she caught and traded on her days off. A luxury like oatmeal soap was something so far out of her budget it was ridiculous. 

In fact, if she didn’t figure out a way to get her hands in working order, the surviving Everdeens were going to be in for a very rough winter. Katniss’ hands were her livelihood and if she couldn’t work or hold a bow then things were going to go downhill very quickly for her. 

“Wait here,” Peeta said quietly before he let her hands drop. Then he turned around and retreated into the bakery. 

Katniss almost considered leaving right at that moment but she still needed to finish cutting the rest of the firewood. She wanted to cry, thinking about having to pick up the axe and swing it again a dozen times before she was free to go. 

So she stayed instead, gathering her courage to pick up the axe again. At least, that’s what she told herself. 

She wasn’t quite ready to admit that a part of her was waiting on the broad-shouldered boy with the ash-blond waves to return. In the past six months, Peeta Mellark had become less of a stranger but no less of an enigma. He was soft-spoken around her in a way he wasn't in front of others. But he always had an encouraging word for her or a friendly bit of advice. He was the one who had taught her how to split the firewood in the first place when she was first assigned the duty. He was constantly trying to make things easier for her, keeping his kitchen station tidy so as to not make more work for her. Sometimes he would even slip extra food into the bag she was allowed to take home at the end of the day in payment for her day’s labor. 

He looked at her sometimes, from beneath his incredibly long and pale blond eyelashes,  half apologetic, half something else. That look almost made her heart stop in confusion. 

She wished sometimes that he would just ignore her the way his older brothers did, but Peeta seemed determined to acknowledge her at every turn. 

So when he came back out and handed her a bag, twice as heavy and big as she was used to, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But when Katniss looked inside she gasped. 

“Oatmeal?” She asked him, incredulously when she spied another bag at the bottom of the larger one, underneath the two-day-old cast-offs. 

Peeta nodded at her, cheeks ruddy from the cold and maybe something else. 

“Two scoops. When you get home put the oats to soak in some water for ten minutes. You can make a simple salve for your hands if you add fat or oil or just soak your hands in the mixture. It should help.” He instructed her with quiet intensity. 

“But--” She began to argue, to push the bag back towards him. He wouldn’t take it back. 

“Please, take them. Mother never should have made you chop all the firewood when she knows you had nothing to protect your hands.” His blue eyes were imploring. 

She shook her head but he opened his mouth to say, “Please,” with such a beseeching note in his voice that she paused. 

“Do it as a favor to me.” Peeta insisted. 

“I can’t,” She croaked, frightened when she thought of what the consequences would be if Mrs. Mellark found out that Peeta had stolen from the bakery’s stores in order to help her. 

“You have to. Your sister needs you. She needs you strong. Needs your hands to be strong. Please Katniss. Take it.” Peeta said, his voice firmer. Damn him, he already knew what avenue to take to get her to agree. 

“What about you?” Katniss said nervously. 

Peeta shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to make sure the books balance so she won’t realize.” He said quietly. 

Katniss simply stared at him incredulously, unable to speak. Here was this boy, this person who had already done more for her than any stranger could be expected to, she thought as she recalled clearly that sad and terrifying day in the rain, and he still wanted to do more. 

If she did this, if she accepted his help, she would not only owe him for the bread but now she’d be picking up a new debt. 

“Peeta, I can’t.” He seemed startled at first by her use of his given name but quickly recovered. 

“You can. You need to. Think of your sister. If you get sick my mother will try to tack on more time to your contract. You’ll end up owing another six months to a year when she’d done with you.” Peeta warned. 

Katniss felt her gut clench in fear. She knew deep down he was right. She needed this, almost as badly as she had needed the bread six years ago. 

Guiltily, she nodded her head. She tucked the bag under her arm. 

Before she could force herself to turn around and leave with whatever little dignity she had left, the question slipped past her lips. 

“Why?” She asked in a trembling whisper. 

Peeta stared at her for a long moment, before looking down at his shoes. 

“Lots of reasons. One is my mother is manipulating things to her advantage, to try and stretch your labor down to the last cent and beyond. I guess I can’t stand by and just let it happen. No one should be treated like that. Like you are just a piece in her games. But maybe…” He trailed off, seeming to lose his ability to hold her gaze for a moment. 

“Maybe you’ve just left an impression on me that I can’t shake Katniss Everdeen.” He finally finished, gaze swinging quickly back to pin her in his blue gaze that was at once deep and encompassing, but also soft at the edges, almost tender. 

“And what impression is that?” She asked, unable to stop staring up at him. 

He smiled at her then, something so sweet and genuine that an unexpected warmth rushes through me. 

“Let’s just say it's a good one.” He says, clarifying nothing but his smile deepens until a small dimple appears on his left cheek and I find myself exasperated and endeared in equal measures. 

“You better get home before the storm kicks up.” He tells me when I say nothing in response. 

I look over at the remainder of the wood and he shoo-es me off. “I’ll finish up.” He promises and then proceeds to rapidly chop three logs in the time it would take me to do just one. 

I shake myself to clear my thoughts. He’s surely strong enough to make quick work of the wood. 

I run all the way home, trying to forget about Peeta Mellark and his smile. 

But when I get home I find a pair of faded but still wearable mittens tucked under the bag of oatmeal. 

I hold them under my nose and breath in the scent of cinnamon and dill.

[ranger-ribbons]

💭 - brainwash my muse into forgetting something, replacing it with a false memory.

Brody/Preston!!

Hmmmmmm.

~~~

Preston doesn't look up from his magic book as Brody walks in. "Ready, Preston?" the Red asks.

Preston shrugs, closing his book and setting it on the desk. "As I'll ever be, I guess. I still don't think this is a good idea."

Brody puts a comforting hand on Preston's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. If it works, I forget all about Madam Odius torturing me. If it doesn't, I continue coping. No harm, no foul."

"I'm not worried about you," Preston replies. "What if I mess up?"

Brody squeezes the hand on Preston's shoulder. "It's okay, Preston's. I have total faith in you."

Preston sighs. "Okay," he replies. "Let's try it out."

Brody lays down on the couch and makes himself comfortable. Preston's hands shake as he pulls out the old pocket watch and lets the watch drop so he holds onto the end of the chain. Brody watches the watch as it swings slowly from side to side.

"Keep your eyes on the watch. Watch as it swings. It swings back and forth. You're watching the watch." Preston had watched Now You See Me before he tried this, Brody can tell. The Red shuts that thought down before it can break his concentration.

"You're getting tired. The watch is swinging and the hours pass as it does. Very tired. And," Preston clicks his fingers right under Brody's nose at the same time he commands, "sleep."

Brody's world goes dark.

~

Preston startles as Brody's eyes shut and he collapses back against the couch as if someone had hit his off switch. "Oh god," he murmurs, panicked. "Brody? Can you hear me?"

Brody slurs out a, "Yeah," and Preston feels like he can actually breathe.

"Okay," Preston says. He thinks back to the information he has from his spell books on hypnotism. Most sorcerers in the books had considered it a forbidden art. To mess with a person's memory is to commit an unspeakable crime. However, Preston had found a few and he holds to the rules they'd set in place like a life raft. "Brody, your mind is open to you. There is nothing you can't remember, there is nothing hidden from you." Brody makes a humming noise that Preston chooses to take as assent.

"Go back in you memories to the years on Galvanax's ship. Do you remember them?"

"Yes," Brody replies, hushed.

"Good," Preston soothes. He wraps one hand around his arm and rubs his shoulder, trying to soothe himself as well. "Think back to Madame Odius. To her torture and everything she's done. Do you remember?"

Brody makes a pained noise, but replies with an affirmative. Preston wants to reach out and touch him, but the books say not to so the Blue restrains himself.

"I want you to imagine the memories as file folders, okay? Take all those memories and put them into a box. The box is safe. The memories can't hurt you if they're in there." This tactic is mostly born of Preston's hands. His experiences with memories are to put them into a box and shove the box into the furthest corner of his mind. He's sure the therapist his teachers say he should see would love to talk about it. For now, though, Preston's thinks it should work fine here, too.

"Okay," Brody replies.

Preston swallows. "Now lock the box and set it on a shelf."

"Okay."

"This box is forever untouchable to you. You will not remember the contents of this box, when you awaken. You will not remember what Madame Odius did to you while you where on Galvanax's ship. When I snap my fingers, you'll awake with no memory of the box or its contents. Do you understand?"

This is the trickiest part. The hardest to get right. It has to be worded just so, or Preston could mess everything up.

"Yes," Brody replies.

"Okay," Preston says to himself. "Ready?" he asks Brody. "Three, two, one," Preston clicks his fingers again, once more commanding, "Wide awake!"

Brody's eyes snap open and he sits up. "Hey, Presto," he says. "Did it work?"

Preston shrugs. "You remember Madame Odius or her actions on the Warrior Dome?"

Brody frowns. "She didn't touch me on the Warrior Dome."

Preston breaks into a relieved smile. "It worked!"

~~~

@estel-eruantien thank you!

[cerastes]

Ouuugh, continuing to knock it out of the park with these characters. Always loved characters who are solely referred to as a title or epithet, and god the replacement of ones eyes like Istesas rules.

Did she have much inspiration from concepts or characters from Arthurian legends, or did the fey connections and "lady of the lake" thing just happen to be a fun coincidence?

Looking forward as always for where everything you're setting up goes, an effective god like character who just exists to hand out weapons that always lead to greater tragedy or destabilization of things absolutely slaps.

Thank you! I'm happy to hear you enjoy these, haha.

Istesa does in fact have a lot of Arthurian influence, yes. It's one of my favorite mythos, and the Fae have always been fascinating to me, especially when you consider the complete whiplash anyone would have when going from the modern, incredibly infantilized views on the Fae, to their old, outright brutal and callous origins. It always seemed fun to me to think that even back then, our ancestors were coming up with stuff like "yeah there's these very theatric and whimsy creatures that will try to prank you with such knee-slappers as enslaving you forever or turning you into a sentient bush".

The Lady of the Lake angle is sort of an evolution of a concept I've always wanted to play with: For the longest time, I had this idea of the Lady of the Lake being just one of the many titles of the Lady, and that she's more or less a weapons merchant that spends her time managing her business in the shadows as usual, until a great hero is in need of her. So she'll set out and deliver the legendary weapon to its rightful hero, by hand, so that they may mete our their destiny. If you're not a great hero and you come across her, you may get your hands on one of her formidable wares... For a very, VERY high price, and not necessarily one that involves money. Can't be handing out Caladbolgs and Tyrfings out like candy, you know?

Imagine you're an adventurer and you meet this woman in sunglasses and a suit, she's carrying a big case, she looks at you, and goes "hey, I'm in a bit of a bind, help me out here", and you're like, sure, so you go on a small adventure through dangerous lands into the territory of a despot. Throughout the quest, she never once opens the case, but is formidable nonetheless. Then, when you finally make it close to the despot's fortress, and you get ready for the fight of your life, the climax of this quest, she simply says "alright, we're here", and points at a crappy hut by the side of the river. You're confused, but you follow her as she opens the rickety door. Inside is a poor, young child wearing rags. She slams the case in front of the child and opens up the locks, revealing the most wonderful longsword you've laid eyes upon. She hands the sword to the kid, and then signals the way out.

"We're not going to topple the despot?", you ask.

"Nope," she says as she lights a cigarette, "Not our villain to defeat. Just came here on a delivery."

"And why didn't you use the sword throughout our battles?"

"Not my sword to swing. That's his."

Then she refuses to elaborate on anything else, thanks you curtly, and disappears the first chance she gets. Six months later, you're in the middle of the wilderness, the morning sun wakes you up, you step out of your tent, and notice a familiar case waiting for you outside. It has a letter attached. "Thanks for the help back then. For you." Inside the case is the single best weapon you've seen in all of your travels, it feels comfortable and natural, it fits your style of combat perfectly, there is no weapon in this world that could be more closely customized to you, specifically you. This is your weapon.

That sort of concept. Then, I thought, "damn, if someone or something could actually do things like this, it would be scary if they did that, but for villains", but it wasn't really a breakthrough of a thought, since a lot of villains... Do have that kind of service or advantage, some sort of scientist or wizard. Then came the follow-up thought:

"What if the Lady of the Lake straight up had no sides, she just made incredibly powerful, history-changing weapons and artifacts for the express purpose of shaping history to be 'interesting', to be 'chaotic', because in the future history books, it will be incredibly interesting, maybe even entertaining, to read about these chaotic times. What if the Lady of the Lake wasn't good or evil, she solely sided with whoever side made history look more interesting in the future, so she could, one day, sit down with a nice drink, on a comfy couch, and read the most wonderful tragedies and upheavals, content with the knowledge that she had a hand in the penning of these stories?"

I thought that would be terrifying and I loved it, so Istesa was born.

[dogwatch05]

Bored in economics

@mmemory1

(I should mention this is over chat in a google doc) So after arguing about check vs cheque we have this during our econ class:

A:"Utopia" "Unobtainable"

B: econ is great

A: I want to write a monologue

C: do it

A: a villianish hero human monologue

B: the unobtainable utopia: the story of the world's nerdiest villain

threat to the economy

threat to society

And here starts the story that took place in econ. Each paragraph is a switch between C and A, starting with C:

"'Utopia.' Something that will remain unobtainable under the rule of your king. He sits upon a throne made of blood and lies and you all bow your heads to him, lapdogs to your dearest tyrant.

Then the smart ass human in the back of the room pipes up and says "Utopia will never be obtainable long run, ever, so your point is invalid"

The villain stops, looking over slowly at the human in the back of the room with venom in their eyes. "Say that again, boy."

"Utopia will never be obtainable long run, ever, so your point is invalid"

The villain sighs and walks down from the platform the throne sits on. With a wave from her sword, the crowd in the room parts to show the human standing alone in the back.

The human was a sickly looking stick of a boy with glasses that made his eyes the size of his forehead. Unfazed, he walked forward to the edge of the crowd. "You see, when economics and basic human nature is considered, utopia will never be possible. Everyone being employed will lead to skyrocketing prices and inflation and along with that there would be-"

The villain rolls her eyes as the explanation drags on. "Stop, stop." She waves her free hand in front of the boy. "You talk to much. I'm not here to lead these people, I'm hear to end a tyranny and that will bring a utopia for those who have long suffered. I do not care for their economy because it will fall no matter the outcome."

"Ah but here comes human nature. When everything is taken care of, every need and want fulfilled, humans become complacent and vain. And with complacence and vanity come rapid reproduction and violence until the whole of the place is dead"

"The you rule. You and your scrawny form obviously know *so much* about humans and their primitive tendencies. The king is right there," she places a cold hand on the boy's shoulder and gestures up to the king struggling in his restraints.

(B pops in) A bystander stares silently at the spectacle happening before him. He thinks, hoping she cannot hear his every thought, "Damn. Economics is intense." (Back to C and A. A starting)

"Yeah see, that's my dad and he disowned me because he didn't want a smart son, he wanted a strong son. Try and beat this family reunion."

"Then kill him and take your rightful place on the throne," she bellows out into the room. The crowd murmurs and nods, some cheering for the boy. "Show him your strength of mind and willpower. I will lend you the strength of my five sons if you do so."

"Why kill him? He's already lost all credibility to his allies and his people. No one will take him in to their kingdom after his failure of an economics plan. But yes kill him," The boy waves the sword she had given him around in the air and turned to face the woman," kill him even when he poses no threat. Encourage violence and only make the situation worse." He slammed the sword in a downward motion wherever it was swinging. Behind him he heard a gurgle. Turning around he saw the tip of the sword resting at the end of a long gash down his father's throat. "Whoops"

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and chants. The villain grabs the boy's arm and raises it in the air, lifting him off the ground. "To your new king! May he bring you prosperity and health in this new age!"

[countlessrealities]

@proximasmith - from HERE

Proxima has gentle dusty-pink waves hair down to the level of her chin, and aqua-colored eyes that one could consider kind and sympathetic in other scenarios. On her Earth, her home, the light dusting of freckles was indicative of her status as a warrior that fights in the Sun Arena.

But here, years later, she's all business, even dressed in her unassuming mauve sweater hanging fashionably off of one shoulder. She looks like she fits in, here, at least. To an outsider she'd look like just another (if odd-haired) preppy Summer out to eat with her Morty and Rick, perhaps.

The Reconnaissance Specialist tries very hard not to rely on intel from other members of the Smith-Sanchez community, many of which would see a place like Haven M-42 like just another government set up to regiment the family into tidy categories. With that perspective, they have every right to be hard-headed about divulging information. But she can only hope this pair will be different.

"I have intel that you can give me information on a certain Rick that's become a problem for our organization. Well... most organizations, I suppose. Rick Prime. He's more dangerous to us for the schematics he holds rather than his charming personality, of course."

Proxima folds her hands on the table, glancing at the Morty with a little smile, but she's careful not to direct her words to him. She doesn't want him to feel pressured to contribute to anything he doesn't want to contribute to.

"...the problem being, of course, that you'd have to name your own price. I'm not sure what a Rick of your caliber might want out of the deal. Rest assured you'd be owed at least a favor for any amount of information that could point us in the right direction."

Rick doesn't much react when the name of the guy he has been hunting for forty years is mentioned, even if the gulps he takes out of his flask immediately after it is longer than the previous one. He's aware that this was what they would be discussing, so it doesn't catch him off guard. However, he can't help the revoltingly sour taste that fills his throat the mere mention of the man.

The same can't be said for Morty. If finding out that they were meeting a version of his sister has puzzled him, the mention of his biological Rick has him visibly tensing. The boy whips his head in the direction of the scientist, his expression both shocked and incensed. He can't believe that the old bastard hasn't given him heads up at least about that.

He opens his mouth, but no words leave his lips. Not just because Rick waves a hand in his direction, in a silent order for him to keep quiet, but also because he doesn't want the Summer to know about the ties he has with their shared target.

She seems nice and all, more than his original Summer and than his current one, but he can't help worrying that it would change, if she knew that, technically, he is Morty Prime.

"Y-Yeah, I know the guy," Rick speaks up, after having taken another mouthful of liquor. "W-We have...unfinished business." And what a huge understatement that is. "T-That fuckin' asshole has been More slippery than an eel covered in vaseline for too long. I-I've figure out a way to track him down, b-but the process is a pain in the ass. An-And it's taking fuckin' ages."

He puts his flask down on the table, ostentatiously setting it between his side of the table and Morty's. The teen shoots him a look, hesitates for a moment and then grabs it to get a swing himself. He's going to need some liquid courage to get through that discussion.

"Y-You wanna know my price? E-Easy. I don't work with you corporate drones as a rule, b-but I'm willing to make an exception for this." And that must say just how much he wants to find his alternate. "I-I know that the group your work with has resources. S-Shit that would make my work faster. S-So here's the deal. I-I share what I know an-and my tracking process, y-you help me find this guy s-so I can erase him from existence."