#even if it's just a few words from a character who's also suffering from depression

[khytal]

most days I feel like a bunch of brittle twigs held together with shitty duct tape and a prayer but then I think about hongo saying "nothing in life is pointless" and it compels me to keep going

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 5~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to Snake in the Garden! I do apologize for my long absence. College has started back up; my depression has been kicking my butt and writing block for this chapter were just a few reasons for the delay. However, I'm back with a bang! I highly recommend reading the warnings on this chapter as it does get a bit intense. Oh, and from the bottom of my heart: thank you all so much for supporting this fanfiction! I cherish every like, reblog and read every comment posted on each chapter. I plan to have multiple parts after this one, so I hope you stay. Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added don't hesitate to comment! As always, have a great day/night and enjoy part five!

Words: 9626

Warnings: Swearing (more than usual), Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Kissing, Non-Con Sexual Advances/Harassment, Reader is forced to wear skimpy clothes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Lots of Blood, Various Characters gain Trauma from Lucifer, Lucifer goes into Beast Mode, Lucifer's Obsession goes off the rails, Possessive treatment to Reader, Talk of hanging by snake, Kidnapping, Talk of watching someone die, Major Yandere Behavior from Lucifer, Reader gets Pushed Around, Reader gets put in a Cell, Degrading Name Calling-mainly to Reader, Talk of Cannibalism, Reference to Disturbing use of Body Parts, Talk of Sexual Actions, Talk of Drinking Blood, Reader Suffers Abundantly in this Chapter, Seriously who gave Lucifer a Sword

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I gasped and my eyes widened as I stared at the two beings in my living room. The one who spoke was a larger man. He appeared to have a dad bod underneath his white, purple and gold robe. The black mask he wore had two large horns attached and his golden facial features held a smug look. Behind him stood a female. She too wore a black mask, her horns curled inwards. She appeared to be wearing a black tunic with black skin tight pants and light gray thigh high boots to match. The crude white stitched mouth scowled at me, almost acting like I was wasting her time. I gulped, both sets of eyes watching me like a hawk. “W-who are you? What do you want?”

The masked man set down his bag of Doritos (which I realized were from my cupboard) and offered a hand. “The name’s Adam, sweetheart. I’m the First Man.”

I looked down at his hand and then back at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “If you’re the First Man, does that mean that Lucifer sent you to come get me?”

I stepped back in fear as he cackled, holding his stomach. “Heavens no! I hate that son of a bitch!”

I lowered my guard a bit. “If you’re not with him, why are you here?”

Adam stopped laughing and brushed his robe. “I’ve come to take you to Heaven with me.”

“But I have no business there. I’m not even dead!”

“I can grant you permission. Let’s say it's one of the perks of being a celebrity.”

He pointed his fingers at me as if they were guns and he clicked his tongue. I looked between him and his companion. She tilted her head towards her master as if to say take his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! Lucifer can’t touch you while you’re on Holy ground. And I have a funny feeling he’d like to get his claws on you, if you know what I’m saying.”

I cringed in disgust at what he was implying. “Besides, I can be your bodyguard! I have special privileges being famous after all. And my wingspan is bigger than Lucifers!”

I looked down at my engagement ring. The snake seemed to coil tight around my finger as the eye glimmered, daring me to trust in the Heavenly man’s words. I bit my lip and looked up at him, his female companion now by his side. The sword at her side glinted and I could picture it ramming into my fiance. I could see the light leave his eyes and blood spill down his snow white skin. The betrayal would show on his face as it had mine when he took me to Hell. I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I realized that maybe, just maybe, these two were my allies. My eyes met Adam’s and I gave a quick nod. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile curled up by his eyes. “Good choice, babe. Lute prepare the portal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman stepped forward and raised her sword to the sky. She began to draw a symbol that looked like a cross and chanted under her breath. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, let these three souls enter Heaven freely.”

As soon as she finished, gold mist began to circle the ceiling. It began to sprinkle down around us, causing me to sneeze. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

I looked up and was amazed to see a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Sunlight streamed down and it felt warm on my skin. “It’s ready, sir.”

“C’mon, babe! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

“Wait!”

I brought my fingers around my ring and forced it off. Relief flooded my body as I set it on the coffee table and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally free. “I’m ready now.”

I let out a squeak as he hoisted me up by my waist, his hand traveling a bit low to my butt. I didn’t have much time to think about it because his golden wings opened up and pushed us upwards. The wind from the angel’s wings swept my hair and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Even on a bright sunny day on Earth that sky couldn’t compare to Heaven’s. The blue of the sky was a bright baby blue and the clouds were the purest of white. I reached out a hand and laughed at how light the cloud felt passing through my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it,” Adam questioned.

“It’s better than I could have ever imagined!”

“This isn’t even the best part.”

I focused my gaze ahead of us and my eyes widened. I could see a patch of clouds with bright pastel colored buildings, almost too bright to stare at. We landed on said patch and the mist surrounding the area brushed away, bowing to the First Man. Adam set me down and I was hesitant to place my full weight down. The cloud itself was soft and yet I didn’t fall through. Casting my eyes up, I saw a golden fence stretching a long distance that I couldn’t even begin to see the end of. In the middle was a set of golden doors creating a gate, pearls and diamonds adorning the bars. I gasped as I realized these were the Pearly Gates that people claimed to see as they passed on. As soon as it clicked, a short, blonde haired man with lightly saturated clothes and white wings appeared behind a podium. He flashed a smile with his pearly whites and beckoned us over. “Hiya! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name please?”

“Oh, um, Y/n L/n.”

He flipped to the appropriate page in his large book and when he found it he used his index finger to skim through all the names. He muttered under his breath as he searched, his eyebrows wrinkling after a few seconds. “Um, I’m not seeing you on my list. Perhaps you’re in the wrong place-”

“She’s with me, pretty boy.”

Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Saint Peter. Besides, she has to be on my list if she’s passed on. She’s dead, right?”

“No, but-”

“Adam, you can’t just bring living people here! It’s against the rules! Oh my goodness, what if He finds out-”

“He won’t! Now let us in, jackass!”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I will not get in trouble again for your shenanigans!”

“You listen here-”

“What is going on here?”

All of us looked up to see two females flying down towards us. The one on the left was much taller than the one on the right. Both had gray dresses with purple and white accents. They landed in front of us and I could see them clearly. The one on the left appeared to be an adult woman with dark grayish brown skin. She had gray scaleras with white irises, long winged eyelashes and white freckles below her eyes. Her gray hair was long and was twisted into thick curls. A glowing white crown with blue jewels floated above her head as her black lips set in a frown. The one on the right looked like a child, her skin a lighter grayish brown tone. She too had white freckles under her blue eyes, the irises being an ombre of purple. Her light purple hair reached the hem of her dress and her black lips formed a pout. Both of their six white wings relaxed at their sides. “Sera, tell this dickhead to let us in! He has no right to keep us out here!”

“Sera, he brought in a human! One that has not yet passed on!”

The taller woman, Sera I assumed, raised her hand. “Enough. Let the girl speak on her own terms.”

Everyone turned their gaze towards me and I could feel my stomach twist in knots. My fingers fiddled with the fabric of my nightgown and I found my eyes were more interested in my bare feet. “Um, I’m Y-Y/n. I lived on Earth but Lucifer kidnapped me. He wants me to be his bride.”

I glanced back up at Sera and a shocked expression graced her features. In a second she flipped back to a more relaxed face, her black lips smiling at me. “My child, you have had quite the journey. Come.”

She moved to the side and gestured her hand towards the gate. I looked at Adam and he pushed me forward. “But, Sera-”

“It’s alright, Saint Peter. This is the one exception I will make.”

“Alright.”

He waved his hand and the gate opened, sunlight streaming through. I took a few hesitant steps forward and the four angels followed behind me. The buildings that I saw before glowed in the sunlight and the golden paved road appeared like marble. The two females stepped in front of me, calm smiles on their faces. “How rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I am Sera, the high Seraphim.” 

She bowed her head as the child-like angel giggled. She bounced in front of me and was quick to take my hand, shaking it ferociously. “I’m Emily, the other Seraphim! But you can call me Emmy, Em, E, whatever. Welcome to Heaven!”

I smiled and pulled my hand away from her light grip. “Thank you. It feels so surreal being here honestly. I didn’t picture Heaven to look like this.”

“We are quite the close knit community. Everyone is friendly, polite and the nicest of the nice. We pride ourselves on being the best and most innocent of creatures,” Sera said. 

“Oh you’re going to like it here, Y/n! We’ve got the most delicious food you’ll ever taste and the beds are like you’re sleeping on a cloud, they’re so soft! You can indulge in any hobby you like and we even have ice cream with rainbow sprinkles!”

I chuckled at Emily’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Where might I be staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You’ll be with me, toots. I have several bedrooms in my bachelor pad.”

Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His fingers played with the strap to my nightgown and I felt a pit in my stomach as he slid it down my shoulder. His black fingers caressed the skin and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was worse: Lucifer’s gentle touch or Adam’s commanding one. “How about we get you something new to wear. Lute, take Y/n and get her some new clothes. While I enjoy seeing those pretty shins of yours Y/n, I prefer to see them just for myself.”

His fingers slightly dug into my shoulder and I gulped. Was he being possessive or was it just my imagination from being around Lucifer? Lute signaled for me to follow her and as we walked the golden road I wondered if I truly was in a better place. I thought back to Earth and how I longed to be there with S/o. I wondered if he was looking for me or if somehow the Devil made him forget all about me. I held onto the hope that he was searching everywhere, calling everyone he knew and scouring every town in our state. “Hey, pay attention! We’re here.”

“Sorry.”

I hadn’t noticed Lute had opened a wooden oak door and was pointing at it. I walked in and she shut it behind us. I looked around the room as she rummaged through a closet. The purple floor was made to look like tiled marble and the light blue walls were a pastel version of the sky. The bed itself was King size and had purple sheets and blankets to match. A white knit duvet laid over top and the whole thing looked so soft. A nightstand with a purple based lamp stood on either side of the oak headboard, a wooden oak desk stood under a stained glass window, a purple wooden dresser stood next to the door, and the purple closet was next to another wooden door. Lute walked over and threw a pile of clothes at my chest. I looked up at her and could feel the anger behind her mask. “This will be your room. Bathroom is behind that door. Change and roam around as you like. Just don’t disturb Adam or myself. We’re busy people, got it?”

I blinked in shock at her tone. Why was she so displeased with me? It was Adam’s idea to bring me here. When I didn’t answer, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled. I shrieked as searing pain tugged at my scalp. “I said, got it?”

It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes, yes! I got it!”

As she let go, she pushed me and I landed on the edge of the bed. “Just because you're in Heaven doesn’t mean you’ll get Heavenly treatment. You’re only here because Adam said so. If it was my choice, you would still be rotting in Hell being Lucifer’s bitch.”

She scoffed and turned, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor. I sat in disbelief even as the door slammed behind Lute. Clearly she despised me. The question was why. It took me a few minutes to get over the awkward exchange, finally looking down at the pile of clothes. Lute had chosen a boring arrangement: a white tank top, a golden jacket that was just the neck, shoulders and puffy sleeves, dark purple puffy harem pants, and black gladiator sandals. While I matched Adam's color scheme, Lute made it so I didn't stand out. I sighed and walked to the other wooden door. Opening it, it did house a bathroom like she said. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. Sure, everyone is supposed to be friendly, but with the way Adam made me feel uncomfortable I was not risking my safety. The bathroom held a toilet, shower, and a white marble counter with a sink. Silently I stripped down and put on the angelic garments. I had to admit while the clothes Lucifer gave me were soft, these felt, well, heavenly. I looked at myself in the mirror above the counter. I looked so pale from receiving no sun down in Hell and my eyebags matched the purple of my pants. I sighed and turned the faucet onto cold water. The frigidness felt nice against my fingertips as I tested the temperature. Satisfied, I splashed water onto my face and rubbed it in thoroughly. I breathed in deep and looked at myself in the mirror once more. My cheeks felt a bit warm from the cool contact, but I felt a bit better nonetheless. Drying my hands on a towel hanging on a metal bar behind me, I unlocked the bathroom door and headed back into the bedroom. As I was trying to figure out where I was going to explore first, I heard two voices. Curious, I stepped to my bedroom door and opened it slowly. Nobody was in the hallway, but I could hear the muffled conversation taking place next to me. Hesitantly, I walked into the hall and to the golden door next to mine. I put my ear up close to the wood. I couldn’t tell exactly who was talking to one another, but from what I knew it sounded like Adam and Sera. “-can’t believe you would bring her here, Adam! Do you know how dangerous your actions are?!”

“Chill out, drama queen. Nothing is going to fucking happen, okay.”

“You don’t know what Lucifer is capable of.”

“The motherfucker hides during the exterminations. You really think he’d try and come up here?”

“Yes! When Lucifer desires something he won’t stop till it’s in his grasp. I fear he will make quite the grand entrance to come and retrieve his beloved.”

“Oh please. Even if he does come, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger to the point she’ll obey my every order.”

My eyebrows scrunched together. I could only assume they were talking about me. But why would Adam want me to comply with him? It’s not like I found him attractive or was even remotely interested in him. My ears caught onto light footsteps headed for the door, so I quickly rushed around a corner. I watched as Sera entered the hall, a look of disappointment gracing her features. She sighed and floated the opposite direction of me, Adam soon following after. I let my hands slip down to my sides and decided to take a walk to mull over the whole situation.

I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going, just focusing on my feet lifting up and down as I walked. It wasn’t till I heard ocean waves that made me stop. I looked to my left to see a gorgeous beach sitting in the distance. How odd.

I felt myself drawn to the calming sound of the tide seeping in and out as I made my way over. The wooden steps below my feet squeaked a bit and soon the white sand seeped around my sandals. I stopped at the water’s edge and closed my eyes. The breeze off the sea brushed against my flesh, the warmth feeling like a hug from a loved one. The smell of the salt reminded me of when S/o and I traveled a few towns over from ours to visit an aquarium. The animals were held in their natural waters behind glass panes, but the smell of rich salt permeated the air wherever you went. “Enjoying your freedom?”

My eyes shot open and I spun around. Laying on a long white beach chair was a taller woman. Her long blonde hair blew a bit in the breeze and caressed the top of the sand. She wore a dark purple sun hat with a lighter purple band, a dark purple bikini set, and purple rimmed sunglasses. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, her aura wasn’t threatening. “W-what did you say?”

“I said enjoying your freedom, dearie?”

“Um, I guess. I mean I just got here so I wouldn’t know-”

“Come closer.”

I was taken aback by her tone. Though she was in a relaxed position, her voice was commanding, authoritative. I gulped and did as she requested. I stopped by her bare feet and could feel her eyes scanning me up and down. She hummed and her lips twitched into a small smile. “So you’re the one Lucifer is obsessed with now. I’ll admit I can see why. A pretty thing like you probably reminds him of the swans he would keep in gilded cages. While they weren’t ducks per say he found their beauty and grace appealing.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment. “T-thank you?”

She chuckled and leaned back, soaking up the sun. “Your wedding will be the talk of Hell for quite a few months, I reckon. It’s not often that the King lends out his heart. You must be very special to him.”

“I found him as a snake. He was wounded and I patched him up. God, if only I hadn’t touched him I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

The woman scooted her feet over and patted the empty space on her chair. I sat sideways so I was able to glance at her. “So he took the form of a snake, eh? He hasn’t done that since he offered the apple to Eve. I always did find it interesting how slippery he could be, even when not in his snake form.”

“He’s so clingy. I hardly have any time to myself, he is always by my side. His claws touch me tenderly and when I look into his eyes all I can see is adoration. It’s disturbing.”

“Possessive as always. Perhaps your presence eases his depression.” 

“I guess. I just don’t understand why he can’t get it through his head that I don’t want to be with him.”

“It’s called ego, darling. His pride gets the better of him. It doesn’t help that he’s the sin of it either.”

I brought my hand up to sit in my lap and found myself fidgeting with the finger my engagement ring had been on. “Apparently he’s so in love with me that he forgets he was married before. I realize his wife, Lilith I think her name was, left him seven years ago but he acts like I’m his first love.”

The woman was silent for a moment, the calm of the tide being the only sound between us. “Sounds like he’s just trying to find someone who makes him happy.”

“Yes, but at the expense of my own happiness.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but a familiar voice made us both look up at the wooden stairs. Emily stood waving her arm, a giant smile on her face. “Adam said you’d be out wandering so I thought I’d catch up and show you the ropes!”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Come on! I have so much stuff to show you!”

I chuckled and stood up from the chair. Just as I started to walk away, the woman’s hand clung to my wrist. Her grip was firm but gentle, making me turn back towards her. With her free hand she slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to see her eyes. My eyes widened to see her light purple irises gleaming at me. “Please take care of him for me, Y/n. I can tell he truly loves and adores you.”

She raised my hand to her lips and left a light kiss on my knuckles. “Y/n, come on!”

The woman let me slip my hand from her grasp and as I slowly walked away she pushed her sunglasses back up. I was dazed as I reached Emily on the stairs, still reeling from what the woman had said. “Oh I’m so excited to show you everything! I think I’ll take you to the park first, ooo! Or I could take you to the zoo! We’ve got all of the animals Noah had on the Ark and more!”

I didn’t say anything as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. Before we got too far I looked back at the woman, her hair blowing in the breeze.

I didn’t really pay much attention to what Emily was showing me or what she was saying. I was too focused on my conversation with the woman on the beach. Her eyes felt so familiar to me and yet I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. “/n? Y/n? Are you listening?”

I shook my head to see the young Seraphim looking at me concerned. “Huh?”

“I asked what you thought of the sunset. Isn’t it pretty?”

I followed her arm to see her pointing ahead of us. The clouds around us had turned pink, orange and light purple while the Sun had been cast to be a golden orange. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing light circles. While the offer was tempting I didn’t know if I should tell her anything. I mean what did she know about Lucifer? Would she understand how the woman and I had connected while talking of the Devil? I looked over at her and could feel a wave of calm hit. Emily had this aura of trust and care surrounding her; her eyes sparkled and a friendly smile was placed on her black lips. I let out a sigh. “The woman I was with on the beach. Who is she?”

The angel looked puzzled, holding her chin in between her index finger and thumb. “I’m not entirely sure. She just showed up one day with Adam and Lute. I tried to talk to her but she brushed me off. Come to think of it, she only really talks to Adam. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that she knew about Lucifer and I are to be wed soon. She also had information that isn’t known to the general public.”

“Maybe she heard it somewhere? I’ve heard Sera talk about Down Below every once in a while.”

“No, she knew too many details to have heard it in passing. Besides, she told me to take care of him, almost like she knew him personally. It was like she was giving me her blessing.”

“How mysterious.”

The two of us stood watching the sky slowly paint itself to night. It was refreshing to see something that S/o and I would watch any chance we got. “Y/n, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like on Earth?”

I blinked a few times, stunned by her question. “You’ve never been?”

“No. I was created way after Lucifer fell. My only purpose is to make the winners happy and enjoy their eternal life here in Heaven. Sera doesn’t view my position as something needed in everyday human life.”

I hummed and stared at the night sky. A shooting star passed by and I smiled in wonder. “I find it to be a lovely place. The town I live in is a nice community. Everyone knows their neighbors and it was the kind of place where if someone had a barbeque, everyone in the neighborhood was invited. I live by myself in a small house. It was kind of like an apartment but with no roommates. I even have my own little garden out back. It is my pride and joy.”

“That sounds amazing. Do you have any significant others?”

“I do. His name is S/o and he’s my world. Before I was kidnapped we didn’t have much time to spend with one another due to our work schedules. But when we were together, my god those were the best times. He made me feel like the most special girl in the universe.”

I smiled upon remembering my dear boyfriend. The memories of us on dates or him telling a stupid joke that I’d laugh way too hard at flooded my head. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I choked back a sob and tried to focus on the stars. I didn’t want to become a crying mess in front of Emily. “Hiya, toots~”

The young angel and I turned to see the First Man standing behind us, his arms crossed in front of him. “It’s getting late, babe. Hows about you and I get to bed, hm?”

I looked at Emily, who gave me a curt nod. “I suppose.”

I walked up to him, only for him to snuggle me up to his side. “Thanks for watching her, Em! Go get yourself an ice cream or some shit.”

Before I could even say goodbye, Adam was dragging me back to my bedroom. He threw open the door and lightly pushed me inside. I stumbled and turned to look at him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, and I mean anything, give me a holler. I’m right next door. Night, babe!”

He threw up a rock symbol on his right hand before slamming the door shut. What is with angels and slamming doors?

I shook my head and went to the closet. I looked in disgust at the pajama choice: a light pink babydoll nightgown with ruffles around the chest area and hem. I searched to see if there were any other options. Unfortunately, there were none. I headed to the bathroom with my pj’s and locked the door behind me. Stripping down, I slid on the nightdress. Looking in the mirror, I cringed at how short it was. I tried to pull the hem down but it stayed around my upper thigh. Growling in frustration, I unlocked the door and headed to the bed. I flipped back the covers and climbed in. I shifted around a bit to try and get comfortable. Even though the mattress was like a cloud, I preferred my bed back home. There I could have S/o’s arms wrapped around me as we cuddled. My homemade quilt and weighted blanket would keep us warm in the Queen sized bed. I could feel the tears from earlier gather in my eyes and slide down onto the pillowcase. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled into a ball. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

Over the next few days I found myself next to Adam’s side nearly all the time. The only time I was separated was when I was in the bathroom or when I was sleeping. Even being in the supposed happiest place for death I found myself very uncomfortable. Adam constantly had his hands on me: playing with the straps of my tops, smacking my butt, massaging my shoulders and hips, and his fingertips “accidentally” scraping my boobs. It didn’t help that Lute would constantly glare at me and her face would be pulled into a snarl. I suppose she thought I was disobeying her order to stay away from her master. 

I thought about my interactions with the two as I pulled back the covers, getting ready to go to bed. A knock on my door made me pause. It was pretty late so I was confused as to who could be there. “Come in.”

The door slowly opened to reveal Adam. I gagged at how strong his cologne was as I could smell it all the way to where I was. “Um, hey Adam. What can I do for you?”

His footsteps sounded heavy on the tiled floor and the door shutting behind him felt like a blade stabbing into my heart. He lifted his hand and my breath caught in my throat when I heard the lock. I backed up but I felt the bed behind my knees. The First Man stopped right in front of me and allowed his lips to quirk into a deep grin. His hands came up and started to slide the nightgown straps down. Disgusted, I slapped his hands away and went to shove him. As my hands pushed on him, he was quick to grab my wrists and hold them to his chest. “You look so hot, babe. I was right to pick out this pj set. You fill it out perfectly.”

“Let go of me!”

I struggled to pull my hands away but his grip didn’t falter. “Adam, let go! Y-you’re scaring me!”

“Just go with the flow, sweetie. Can’t you see this was meant to be?”

He pushed me onto the bed and before I could get up he pounced on top of me. I was about to hit him but he pinned my wrists on either side of my head. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck. His lips were sloppy and he brought his tongue to lick against my vein. “I’m going to make you forget all about that fucking Morningstar. All that you’re going to have on your mind is the original Dickmaster.”

As he brought his lips down to kiss mine, I let out a growl and threw my leg upwards. I heard him let out a cry of pain before he fell onto the floor clutching his privates. “My balls! My fucking balls! God dammit, Y/n!”

With fear guiding me, I stumbled to the door and fumbled with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

My fingers shook as I heard Adam rise, a groan leaving his lips. “I was going to play nice, toots. I really was. But it seems you want to play hard to get!”

I heard the lock click and I quickly threw the door open. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Adam yell after me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran faster than I ever had. My escape was futile though as I slammed into a muscular body. I looked up to see Lute, her mask off to reveal a white bob and yellow eyes. I was frozen as I heard Adam huffing behind us. “Good job catching her, Lute!”

“What would you like me to do with the bitch?”

“Lock her in a cell.”

“Anything else?”

“Hit her or something for kicking my balls. That shit hurt.”

“Of course, sir.”

I cried out as Lute grabbed my hair and pulled me down the hall. I tried to pull her hand off but she just tightened her hold. With the pace we were going, the two of us ended up at a dark wooden door. Lute opened it and walked me to the middle of the dimly lit room. She opened the black metal door to the cell and threw me inside. I groaned as I felt my knee scrape against the cold cobblestone floor. I looked up at the angel who sent daggers into my soul with her gaze. “I told Adam you were trouble, but he insisted we bring you here. And after all the hospitality he showed you…you go back on his trust.”

“By hospitality do you mean perverted-” I growled out.

Lute brought her leg up and kicked my cheek. I landed harshly on my side and spit out some blood that oozed from my teeth. “Don’t speak of him like that.”

“Why? It’s not like he’s a saint!”

She growled and drove her foot into my stomach. I howled as sharp pain blossomed. “He’s better than you could ever be! I mean look at you. While he’s up here in Heaven you’re Down Below sucking Lucifer’s cock.”

Her foot hit my stomach again and I could feel bile rise in my throat. “How does it feel to know you’ll never achieve anything? Your legacy will be known as the Devil’s little whore and that’s all you're good for.”

I gave her a smirk before I coughed. “At least I probably give better head than you.”

Her eyes widened before they returned to slits. With her teeth clenched, she brought her right fist into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip split as some blood came shooting out. “Oh, triggered are we? Is this because you have pent up sexual frustration for your leader? Is that some kind of kink you’re into: master and servant?”

“Shut the hell up!”

Grabbing my hair, she slammed my head into the stone floor with a warrior cry. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. With her hand still tangled in my locks, Lute brought my head up and down several times to meet the floor. My cheekbone felt like it was on fire and I figured the bone was probably shattered with the force of me hitting the ground. “Think you’re tough shit, huh? I can tell you’re just a scared little girl. You were never meant for Heaven, even if you weren’t branded as Lucifer’s slut.”

I could feel my anger boiling. How dare she call me such vile names. “You think I chose this life? Hell no! I was fine being on Earth with my boyfriend!”

“Yeah right. You probably summoned that dirty retch. Why’d you do it? Did you want fame? Money? The glory of saying you fucked the King of Hell?”

“I didn’t do any of that shit! If I had it my way I would have never helped that stupid snake in my garden! Then maybe I wouldn’t be forced to be a bride against my will! Or better yet, then maybe I wouldn’t have met you or your motherfucking boss!”

She yelled in fury and brought her foot up to meet my chest. I landed on my back and the air left my lungs. I heaved in oxygen as she kept kicking me. I swear I heard ribs cracking under pressure. Lute didn’t stop there. She slammed her gray heeled boot onto my fingers and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. “That’s it! Scream, little girl! Pray that your hellish Daddy comes to save you!”

“S-shut up!”

I felt whiplash as her foot dug into my cheek, blood spilling down my bruised lips. “You know what we consider people like you? Fallen. Maybe I should cut your wings like we do all the others?”

“N-no!”

She roughly turned me over so that my back was facing her. I attempted to stand when I heard the sound of fabric ripping and cool air hitting my back. Lute however stomped me into the ground, her heel digging into my flesh. I heard her sword being unsheathed and saw its angelic light bounce off the cell wall. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said! Lute, p-please!”

She let out a cruel laugh and I yelped at her heel digging in further. “You’re pathetic, you know that? If you were half the woman that Adam claimed you to be, you wouldn’t go back on your word. Some advice for you, sweetie. If you say a threat, really mean it.”

I screamed as her sword pierced into the left side of my back. There had to be some kind of special angelic powers attached because this hurt way worse than when I would accidentally slice my finger while cooking. Lute reveled in my cries as she dragged the blade around forming some shape. Tears fell rapidly from my eyes as I slammed my fist down into the cold floor, trying to focus on something other than the pain radiating in my back. I was relieved when I felt the weapon retract, but the relief was short lived. A blood curdling shriek ripped through my throat as the sword entered the right side and began drawing a similar shape to its predecessor. Lute seemed to take her time, enjoying my wails bouncing off the walls. She harshly pulled the sword out and resheathed it. “While I would love to carry on my tradition of licking the blood of my enemies off my blade, I don’t want to taint my Holy body with your sin.”

“W-what did you d-do,” I stuttered under my breath.

I could sense a smirk gracing her features as she rounded in front of me. Reaching under my armpits, she hoisted me up and threw me against the wall. I cried out as the rough stone dug into my newly acquired wounds. “I just cut the wings off the fallen, dare I say, angel. Oh who am I kidding? You’re no angel. You’re not even as worthy as the dirt beneath my feet.”

“F-fuck you.”

I grit my teeth as she harshly gripped my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “What did I say about empty threats, sweetie? Or do I need to remind you?”

I shook my head as a dangerous smile overtook her face. “No, I think you need the reminder.”

Her hand moved to my throat and she made sure to drag my back up the wall as she let me hang. I weakly kicked my legs as I tried to get her to release me. I could feel my body shutting down as Lute squeezed. I was pretty sure I’d have bruises where her fingers lay. My hands started to slide off of hers as my vision began to get a black haze around the edges. “What is going on here?”

Lute let go of me in her haste and my butt collided hard with the ground. I couldn’t see who had entered as I heaved in deep breaths. “Miss Emily, what are you doing up? It’s late. You should get to bed. Here, let me escort you.”

“What were you doing, Lute?”

“Oh, um, I was taking care of a prisoner.”

I could see a familiar head peek around my attacker’s body, a gasp leaving the young Seraphim’s lips. “Oh my goodness! Y/n!”

Emily rushed past and cradled me in her arms, her hand gently rubbing my bruised cheek. “What have you done?! Y/n didn’t do anything to you!”

“On the contrary Miss Emily, Y/n here has committed a major sin. She rejected the orders of the First Man and I was told to punish her in any way I saw fit.”

“I rejected him because he wanted sex. You left that part out,” I hissed, my throat raw from screaming. 

Lute bit her lip and I could see she was dying to cuss me out. “I could forgive Adam’s behavior up until now, but this, this is unforgivable! I need to talk to Sera about this. Violence isn’t the answer and neither is attacking innocent people!”

I could see a shadow cast over the white haired angel’s face and her hand reached for her sword. “There’s no need to discuss this with Sera.”

My eyes widened as her sword was unsheathed next to her side. Emily must have sensed something was off as well because her arms trembled around me. “Lute, w-what are you doing? Put your sword away n-now!”

“I can’t risk you running and tattling to Sera. Who knows what she’ll do to us. Adam and I belong here in Heaven! We’re doing good in God’s name! We will not be cast Down Below!”

She raised the blade and brought it down quickly towards Emily’s head. She screamed and with a newly found inner strength I forced myself up. I let out a warrior cry as I brought my arm up to protect my face, the sharp weapon making contact with my left shoulder. I heard fabric ripping and a glass shattering shriek from the young Seraphim. Glancing down I saw my arm was missing, it lying discarded on the dungeon floor. I let out a shaky gasp and stumbled into the wall. “Y/N!”

I went to go to Emily’s side but Lute stabbed her sword into my right shoulder, effectively pinning me to the wall. I screeched and realized there was nothing I could do. I helplessly watched as the evil angel went for the younger girl’s throat. However, a punch to her face made her drop Emily. She grunted as her head smacked the wall next to me and her body slid down to the floor. I looked towards our savior and felt the color drain from my face. There stood Lucifer, six red and white wings displayed behind him. His eyes were completely red as tall, curvy, red horns grew from his forehead. A flame hovered between them and the snake that usually rested on his hat was now wrapped around the tip of his horns. From this distance it looked like his sharp teeth had grown longer, his canines more prevalent. Lute grunted as she sat up holding her cheek, golden blood trickling from a cut. “You BASTARD! You can’t hurt an angel on Holy ground!”

“The rules don’t apply to FUCKING SCUM LIKE YOU! How DARE you lay your filthy hands on MY BRIDE!”

He rushed forwards and sent a hard punch to her gut. Lute let out a cry of pain before Lucifer grabbed her by the feathers around her throat. Her muscular legs kicked violently, her white gloved hands digging into black hands. I could hear the crunch of her neck bones breaking, golden blood flying out her mouth onto the Devil’s claws. “I can think of so many ways I can torture you with. What should I start with first, hm? I could pluck those white and black feathers from your wings and have them decorate a cape for my darling; Or I could have my snakes bite you all over your body as you screamed and writhed in agony. Oh yes, their venom would enter your bloodstream and there would be nothing you could do as it slowly overtook you, boiling your insides to ash; Or I could break each bone in your body beginning with your fingers and leaving your neck. After everything was broken and you felt that pain, I could slowly saw off each limb, starting with the tops of your fingers and going down each joint. I think I would like that! And after every vein, tendon, muscle and bone was cut off your body I could give them to Cannibal Town to feed the residents as a treat from their King. Just before you died, I could cut out your tongue, eyes and ears and give them to Alastor. I don’t know what the Radio Demon would do with them, but I know he’d find a way to make them useful. And as you would crash from blood loss, I would place your head on a spike outside my palace. It would be a reminder to not mess with me or my fucking bride! Oh, I’d have fun torturing your soul as surely Heaven wouldn’t want you as my hellish hands corrupted your purity!”

Lute bared her teeth and her legs started to slow down to a small wiggle. I watched on in horror as he threw her at the wall on the opposite side of the room. As he stomped towards her, Emily ran to my side. She took off the shawl around her shoulders and wrapped it around my left shoulder. She pulled it tight to try and staunch the bleeding. I hissed as the pressure sent shooting pain to my remaining nerves. Lucifer’s black tail flicked up and down, acting like a scorpion's. My pupils shrunk as I watched him wrap his fist around one of Lute’s wings. She scratched at him as he tugged, a scream ripping from her throat. “That! Is for even bringing my dear apple up here!”

He gripped her other wing and tugged, more bloodied feathers in his fist. “That! Is for throwing her around!”

He went back and forth ripping more and more feathers from each wing, a pile growing behind Lucifer as he called out something harmful Lute had done to me. “Get off me, you motherfucker!”

The Devil brought up one of his feet, slamming the heel of his black leather boot into her eye socket. I shrieked as he kept at it, more golden blood dripping down as her face was slowly being caved in. I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“LUCIFER, STOP!”

His foot was in midair as it froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. I scrunched my eyebrows together and let pleas slip past my bruised lips and raw throat. 

“PLEASE, STOP! Just stop! You’ve done enough damage!”

He scowled and brought his foot down, turning to face me completely. White irises surfaced on top of his red scaleras, softening as they stared at me. “Y/n, she could have killed you! By God, your arm has been lobbed off! Why do you plead mercy for a disgusting soul like hers? She and Adam should suffer for what they have done to you!”

“It’s not worth it! Killing her won’t rewind time or heal me. Just, just let her be.”

He sighed and looked down at Lute’s crumpled body. I could hear her labored breathing so I knew she was still alive, just in a fatal condition. He walked over and crouched before me. Those white eyes of his were filled with rage and determination, but not directed towards me. He brought his hands up to my cheeks, tenderly rubbing them with his thumbs. “Okay. But I need to remove this weapon from your shoulder. I’m not going to lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Emily, stabilize her.”

“O-of course.”

The young girl moved her hands from my missing arm to underneath my armpits and Lucifer grabbed the hilt of the sword. “I apologize for the pain this’ll bring, my dear. I’ll go as fast as I can without the risk of damaging your nerves.”

I nodded and with that he pulled. I cried out in pure agony. Emily hushed me in an effort to make me feel better but all I could focus on was the pain. When the sword was fully out of my shoulder, Lucifer patted the top of my head and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood and turned back towards Lute, who had pushed herself up so she was in a sitting position. With the sword by his side, my fiance slowly stalked forward until he stopped in front of the fallen angel. I couldn’t see her due to Lucifer’s wings spread out but maybe he had done that on purpose. “You should thank my dear apple. She has shown you mercy in a time when she shouldn’t be so kind. But her kindness is one of the reasons I fell for her.”

I felt a sudden tension in my body. He had agreed to not do anything so why did I feel so uneasy? Suddenly he thrust forward and from the feminine scream that bounced off the walls I could tell he had stabbed her. “But on the other hand, I’m not so merciful. I am the King of Hell after all. What is it that you angels say about me? That I’m a rotten, purely evil, husk of a man who should have choked on his own apple while a snake hung me from a tree in the Garden of Eden? Well let me live up to my title. Let me show you how rotten and purely evil I can be!”

“Lucifer, no,” I cried.

He pulled the sword out of wherever he had stabbed it and lifted it above his head. He brought it down with a yell of fury and I screamed as golden blood sprayed everywhere. I squirmed as some of it had splattered across the room onto Emily and I. It was warm and sticky against my legs and face. I wondered if Lute was even alive after that blow. “You. Sick. Fuck! You’re a monster, you know that?!”

I was shocked to hear the female sidekick, even if her voice was shaky. “I don’t care! I don’t care what others think of me! The only one I need is Y/n! She’s MY darling! MY little apple! MY light! And no one, not even the fucker up here who calls himself Father, CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

My eyes widened and I couldn’t tell if it was Emily or I who was trembling the hardest. 

He was crazy.

Absolutely batshit insane.

I finally realized how deep his obsession for me ran. 

He cackled like a lunatic, throwing his head back. His whole body shook with how hard he was laughing. He brought the angelic weapon up again and swung down-

"LUCIFER!”

All of us froze. There in the doorway stood Sera, a multitude of eyes surrounding her gray curls. Her fists were balled at her sides as she walked in. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Lucifer didn’t even look at her, too focused on his prey in front of him. “I’m acting in self defense. Aren’t I, Emily?”

Sera looked at the two of us and Emily squeaked. “Is this true, Emily?”

“I-I-I-”

“Be truthful, my child. I don’t want you scorned for siding with the embodiment of evil.”

“...He saved us, Sera! Lute, she, she, she was going to kill me! If Mister Morningstar hadn’t stepped in both Y/n and I would be dead!”

The High Seraphim was taken aback, her eyes fading from her hair. “What?”

“Hey, what’s with all the commotion? Some people are trying to sleep-”

My gaze saw Adam walk in behind Sera, his mouth allowing a yawn to pass. The pit in my stomach grew as I feared how he would react when he saw the state of his right hand woman. Sure enough his eyes landed on her and his body tensed. ��Holy shit…Lute.”

His hands balled up next to his sides and his eyebrows scrunched over the top of the golden eyes on his mask. “You, motherfucker! You, son of a bitch! You could have killed her-”

A screech ripped my throat as Lucifer whipped around and sliced through Adam’s arm. It flopped to the floor and a chorus of fear filled the air. The First Man was quick to grab his open wound, liquid gold coating his fingers. “What the fuck. What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU CUT OFF MY ARM, YOU ASSHOLE!”

With Lucifer turned I could see the fire burning in his eyes. He was scaring even Sera, her taking a step back. “What is it they say? An eye for an eye? Well in this case it’s an arm for an arm.”

“YOU, DICKBAG! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Why don’t you ask your little whore when she wakes up? I’m sure she’d love to tell you in great detail while she’s in between your thighs sucking you off about what happened.”

Adam growled and released his shoulder, his bloodied hand pointing at Emily and I. His index finger started to glow with a bright white light and I feared he’d shoot me. With the threat in the air, Lucifer brought the tip of the sword to the masked man’s throat. He pushed it in, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the consequence known. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. You’re lucky that my dearest told me not to kill anybody. Because believe me, my limit has been passed and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.”

Adam gulped and the blade moved with the bob of his adams apple. I could see fear in the egotistical man’s eyes and even his stance had changed to try and protect himself. “Say, how about I cut off the other hand to join its partner on the floor? I could make them into a pair of cup holders for my beloved and I to use as we sip your thick rich blood from bejeweled goblets.”

“W-why would you want to do that? My blood doesn’t even taste that good!”

“Let’s see, I could name a million reasons. But the first one that comes to mind is to punish you for assaulting my fiance! Did you really think I wouldn’t know about you constantly putting your wretched paws all over her?”

“L-look, you stole two of my wives. I was only returning the favor!”

Lucifer grit his teeth and I swear with how hard he pushed them together they would shatter. The glare that he sent towards Adam was lethal as his eyes turned completely red once more. His black knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Those two were just to show how superior I am to you. Y/n is different. She is my true love! She’ll remain by my side for the rest of her eternal life and together we will rule Hell as King and Queen! And if you think you can take that away I’ll cause my own extermination! Any and all winners will be subject to my wrath! They will be slaughtered one by one and their souls forced to burn beneath my hooved feet! I’ll torture every last one of them as I send them to each ring of Hell, the Cardinal Sins and Overlords free to do whatever the fuck they want! UNDERSTOOD?!”

The sword was pushed a bit further into Adam’s neck, a light trail of blood sliding down from the small gash. The tension was so thick that the weapon in Lucifer’s hands wouldn’t be able to cut through it. “Y-you got it, man! Just don’t hurt me!”

The Devil chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, Adam. So above it all until your whole existence is threatened. Then you turn into a pussy and cower away.”

Throwing the sword into Lute’s left wing with a huff, he used his now open hands to conjure a red misty portal. When Lucifer turned to face Emily and I his white irises had returned to his red eyes and a soft smile reached his lips. He walked over, his bloodied boots clicking against the cobblestone. Slowly, as if to not scare me further, he crouched in front of us. His arms reached for me and as he got close Emily hugged me tight to her frame. Tears ran down my cheeks and wet their previously dry tracks. I shook my head and curled my legs into my torso, trying to get as far away from my fiance. “Please don’t hurt her, Mister Morningstar!”

His face dropped and he shook his head side to side. “You honestly think that I’d hurt my darling? I’m hurt, Emily.”

He reached for me again and before the young girl could put up a fight, he wrapped his arms around me. Standing up, he hoisted me bridal style and brought our foreheads together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled me close. A purr rumbled in his throat and he opened his eyes. That frightening look of adoration had returned, his pupils almost looking like little hearts. He gave my forehead a kiss and then turned towards the other angels. “Goodbye, cunts. Hopefully we never see you again.”

His presence commanded the room as he walked us towards the portal, the familiar dark red sky of Hell peeking through. “Let’s go home, my dearest Y/n. We deserve some alone time together.”

A sob wracked my body as he flew forward, the portal closing immediately behind us.

~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog @vash-yuu @musicb33nsstuff @zennylz @rosieposie005 @weirdgirlislonely @noxianwarmason @luksusowejachty234567 @nicky190i @flutistbyday2020 @insanepurplegrapes @rin22 @b-connie @yepperoniro @halparkebitch @sapphireravensworld @purplerose291 @the-hufflebird-girl @virgoelf-blog @dakota-rain666 @maddiemouse-1226 @acrazyartist @beaststorm @venusdandy @star-trekker-0013 @lazyexcuse @fanshipper4ever @joylovejoy20 @alientee @frogcoven99 @ungirleygirl-blog @white-00-7 @writerandstudent @sporadicpostkoala @greensunflowerjuna @thechromepaladin @yandere-kou @thenumber1mc @killer-nightmare0 @hyperfixations-keep-me-going @the-ninja-girl-in-blue @elisa-christopher @imwallysdarling @lora-is-bored @yzzaqczec @rae-iin @agentspudnut @usususjhsussu @jaynina4d

[jennifer-jeong]

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

Fluff + Angst | LADS x Fae!Reader Angel

CONTENT Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[hey-i-am-trying]

hi, tripoier here! Long text incoming alert and a detailed explanation of the situation for qsmpblr (also sorry if I make some typos I'm writing without translator)

Yeah I also saw what happened today with the og admin of Pepito and I have a lot to say about it. First of all I'm not speaking in behalf of the community but I'm my own experience of the situation. I watched the development of Pepito's story since day one and fell in love with that little guy (and his laggy PC). Then second day arrived and I noticed the admin change bc he was less laggy and I've learned enough Portuguese and 07's (Richas admin) mannerisms to recognize when he's playing a character, even Roier noticed but didn't say anything until the screencap incident lol

Few day passed and 07 created such a cute and wholesome personality for Pepito, that contrasted very well with the role that roier was having at the moment— that it's understandable that it may not be too comfortable for some people but for the ones that had been watching Roier's story in the server + his relationship with Bobby, we take it with humor/hope for him to heal slowly after what happened in Purgatory and with Bobby (and believe me, Bobby had a HUGE impact on how Roier behaved with the rest of he eggs after his death)

So during the days 07 played as Pepito all the tripoiers were in this state of hope because we knew how much q!Roier was trying hard to not to get attached to Pepito, he knew the moment something happens to him he was gonna suffer A LOT, and Pepito was this pure, innocent ray of sunshine that it was imposible for us not to love immediately (Roier also did from day one but he loved to play with us + his lore at the moment was being in depression for the lost of his husband and having Richas and Leo in their comatose state). Also, is worth to mention that after he discovered it was 07 the one playing as Pepito he became more playful and started to tease him just to make him go out of role (and succeeded one time). Which is why he used the chancla a lot with him, as a shield for the feelings that were starting to grow on him again.

Then, Otipep happened.

This is the part I'm gonna be more careful to explain bc there is a language barrier that for the people who don't have Spanish as their first language they cannot understand or got confused

When Otipep appeared Roier noticed that it was another admin playing as Pepito because 07 was busy helping with Q's lore, we don't know if he recognized immediately that it was the original one or just a random temporary admin, but he noticed that this Pepito appeared where the fist one disconnected (in the garden outside of his house). Some people noticed that it was the original one and got happy bc it meaned that finally Pepito had his permanently admin back and bc Richas and the others eggs were also back from the coma we could see them both at the same time (roier used to joke about it every time 07 was around)

We also thought that the og admin had been catching up with the role that 07 has built so far with Pepito (which was not, and we would never know if it was either miscommunication between the admins or the og admin just decided to ignore the actual role to keep their 'idea' for the role), so at first we were a little bit shocked when this Pepito started acting so "dry" (idk if this is the correct word) with Roier, bc we had already gotten used to Pepito's tender way of speaking, but we just let that pass for a bit.

But then that "dry" behavior started going to go down a path were even we as an audience started getting uncomfortable, because roier was trying to socialize with the admin but they clearly didn't knew what's has been going on these past days, so Roier take the time to make a summary of the last days with his typical chill humor, and while he was doing that everything reached its final point with the sign "hueles a culo también hijo de puta" = you also smell like ass son of a bitch.

now This. THIS right here is what destroyed everything. Because you would say "oh, it's just Pepito following Roier's game, it's was in a playful way".

No.

It. was. not.

When Roier starts calling someone with some swears or related words is always in a playful way, and there is context and trust behind. When Otipep put that sign Roier was making a summary of the role that 07 has been doing with Pepito, bc he didn't wanted to let them behind, and while doing that he always explain with his usual humor to make it less unconformable for the admin/ entertained for his audience.

So when he placed that sign we all get out of the loop because it came from nowhere, even Roier kept silence of a few second because 1). it sounded rude, that sign was so out of place 2). Roier was explaining the last few days to the admin so he can keep up with the role, he was not "joking" with the admin, or moving on to another topic, he was helping the admin. 3). We, as an audience, felt so shocked because they weren't saying that to Roier in a playful way, they were giving weight to those words. And this is the part that people that do not have Spanish as their first language doesn't understand. They gave weight to the insult. They didn't wrote that as a joke, they directly INSULTED the streamer.

Then roier proceeded to hit him with the chancla bc he wanted to take the control back of the situation in a humorous way, a damage control in other words, because the chat was filling with "??????" And people getting offended and angry (justified, even I felt offended) with the admin, but Roier is not of those type of persons and he always try to make his streams a safe place for his community, so if you ask me he did a really well job handling the situation even tho he felt offended and his audience noticed that for the rest of the stream (hell, even days later)

And if that was not enough, Roier kept trying to save the situation but the admin was not cooperating, with the "no he preguntado"= I've not asked you and other sign that I just don't remember and is not really worth it (and bc Otipep literally left Roier speaking alone with the "I'm going to look for better parents" and went to spawn zone), he just gave up trying and waited for Richas to come back (which was also chocked w the situation)

And this is me speaking from a non-neutral tone, but I think we could've had a Roier being super loving and caring with Pepito if this situation didn't happen in the first place, bc after this I noticed that Roier stopped tried to get close to Pepito, the situation really affected him so whatever role he was building with the character he just simply stopped and changed the dynamic with another one more limited and less parental, but keeping his usual humor bc it was not the fault of the actual admin or 07, it is what it is unfortunately.

That's why I'm so glad that the actual admin and Ricardão did such a good job saving Pepito because the Spanish speaking community was about to drop him, even streamers friends of Roier that are not part of the qsmp acknowledge the behavior of Otipep with Roier (if that doesn't say a lot about how complicated it was on this side of the road)

And even after all these things there was people out there calling the Spanish speaking community as dramatic or harassing Roier when the situation happened (and it seems they still do it :/ ), but most of us kept quiet because we respect Roier and as he says, mejor pasamos de movidas.

and well, this is it, I know I'm missing some points in the story but honestly getting into fights or hate in general is not my thing, I wanted to give some context for the people of Tumblr because I know, at least here people take the time to read and are more chill unlike twt, and I hope I gave some clarification for the rest of the communities that are not native in Spanish, I really really love Pepito and I'm so glad we had 07 and the actual admin there to play this character, I still can't believe that person had the audacity to come out proudly as Pepito's 1st admin when literally no one from the Spanish community considers his 2 appereances as canon after their blunder xd

Thank you for sharing!

I understand that some stuff are hard to translate, thank you for taking the time. I didn't know that your community was being called dramatic because of that! That is dumb as hell and I am sorry it happend in the first place.

Of course we are no in business of spreading hate. I have always tried to see the other side of situations, I think from what I read in the admin's doc they had some kinda of vision for the character, but I guess they didn't realized that well, they were not going to become automaticly friends with Roier and have room to "joke" like that just because they have become an egg admin. Probably my best guest of what it happend.

It is really weird, maybe they were banking on the support that the other admins have gotten? Or they actually never realized how insulting they have come out as.

Well, I don't have much to say, except I am sorry it happend at all with Roier and the hispanic community.

[maple-the-awesome]

While the Night is Young ||

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Words: 2,079

Requested by anonymous: Can I have a sad fic with Legend (LU) reminiscing about dancing with the reader on koholint? he's my fav so he has to suffer 😞 One mildly depressed Legend coming your way because everyone knows the first rule to being in a fandom is enjoying watching your favorite characters suffer go through character development 💜

Zelda Masterlist 💛 Fandom Masterlist

Crowds are never much fun. Who actually likes being sandwiched between sweaty bodies, constantly elbowed, stepped on, or tossed around by obvious idiots who only ever react with a half hearted apologies? It makes such a simple task like walking down the street a total nightmare, although there might be a good exception for it today given that it’s currently the summer solstice festival in this quaint little village the boys have recently stumbled across.

After many long days on the road, most could understand the heroes’ excitement upon seeing the then bare streets lined with wooden stalls and colorful banners overhead. A local explained the situation, promising plenty of fun games and unique carnival foods if the group decided to stay overnight when the festivities would begin. At that point, there was little choice in the matter. Seeing the expressed joy on many of the youngsters’ faces (a great contrast to their original wear earlier), Time just had to give in to their pleas, agreeing that a deserved break could do them some good. 

So, as the sky began to mirror the colors of summer, from bright reds to pinkish purples, the once empty stalls began to open and the streets became filled with residents, many more than what was expected for such a small village. 

Wind and Sky, determined to win their loved ones some adorable stuffed animals, have been taken to blowing all their rupees at different game booths. Four and Warrior, on the other hand, have made a full on competition of this activity, betting who can win the most games by the end of the night. They managed to drag Hyrule into the fun, too, but only because of his utter amazement with everything going on (after all, he’s never seen any festivals quite like this before).

Wild couldn’t show any restraint when teased by so many wonderful smelling foods, in fact he had already snuck away for something called a ‘corn dog’ before Time could even finish laying down the ground rules for how everyone was expected to behave. Fortunately, Twilight has since stayed close to his mentee’s side to prevent any disasters like Wild poisoning himself or setting fire somewhere. He also may or may not have allowed himself to be roped into trying some very questionable and overpriced snacks (but Twilight won’t admit that for the sake of his own dignity).

As for the Old Man himself, he seems to simply find joy in everyone else’s from afar, although overtime, a few of the boys have managed to get him directly involved in festivities, particularly Wind who insisted Time tries winning Malon an adorable stuffed alien from a shooting game (he succeed on his first attempt followed by many other effortless wins once he got addicted, much to the little sailor’s awe and jealousy).

The only hero to not partake in any aspect of the festival is Legend. Interestingly enough, such a colorful celebration has actually seemed to have the opposite effect on him compared to his brothers, resulting in quite the sour mood shown through his bitter scowl as he stands outside the crowd’s reach.

He curses himself for even bothering to leave the inn earlier, only having done so to shut up Warrior’s claims about him ‘pouting’ as he’s apparently been doing this entire week…Okay, so maybe Legend can internally admit that he hasn’t been exactly ‘overflowing with friendliness’ lately, but he refuses to say it’s because he’s ‘pouting’; that makes him sound childish. He’s not pouting, he’s sulking (big difference) and it has nothing to do with this festival. He just doesn’t care to lose the entire contents of his wallet to rigged games and food poisoning on a buttered stick, that’s all!

If that’s the case, one would think he’d just sneak back to the inn already. No one’s keeping him here on a leash, in fact most of the boys are too busy losing their patience playing ring toss to even notice whether Legend stays or goes. Why continue to stand around being unsociable in the background, grumbling against a wall as others clap and tap their feet to a melody currently played by musicians near the village fountain ahead, especially when it’s making him so grumpy?

“Don’t you just love music? It’s almost too beautiful to be real - at least I think so anyway.”

Legend glances to his side, curling his lip in poorly mocked disgust that earns him the undeserved gift of an angel’s laughter. Even after all these years of developing tough skin, he can’t stand strong against such a sound.

“Oh, don’t be like that! I’ve seen you playing some of those instruments of yours, so you must be a fan. How many do you own? Must be enough to open your own music shop by now,” You tease, your voice somehow becoming the only sound around him despite all those who stand practically shoulder-to-shoulder in front of you both singing and laughing loudly…yet even you pay no attention to them, your eyes locked solely on him as if he’s actually someone special.

“I don’t have that many.”

“Well, as someone who doesn’t even have one, I’d say it’s a lot,” You’ve never bothered with personal space, too used to knowing everyone to wonder why it would be important, thus you’ve always practiced the same beliefs around him, showing no care as you lean against the wall next him, letting your arms brush enough to make him flinch at first before ultimately relaxing.

“Is it because you’re shy? I mean, you have no reason to be since you play wonderfully, but I still get it if you are,” You theorize aloud, still stuck on the same topic Legend wishes you’d change. Surely there’s other things you’d be interested in aside from his personal life. He’s only a simple traveler, after all, although the more he thinks about it, that’s probably what appeals to you so much. He imagines it’s rough being stuck in one place your entire life, never knowing much about what lies beyond the horizon until a strange, stranger washes up at your feet.

“I’m not shy,” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away from you when he decides eye contact is too bothersome, “I just like my privacy.”

You tilt your head cutely with a hum before gazing back into the crowd (much to his relief). For a long moment, you keep your eyes closed and listen to the music, waiting to break the comfortable silence between you both until the song changes into something slower and more intimate than the previous, “...Do you at least dance in front of others?”

“Dance?” He scoffs.

“Yes, dance! You know, that activity where you move your body to a particular rhyme? The thing Hylians usually do for fun? …Or are you unfamiliar with that word, ‘fun’?”

“I know it.”

“Oh, do you now?” You challenge, leaning forward in an attempt to catch his expression, yet he turns his body away while biting back his smirk which surely mirrors yours; he can hear it in your voice, “Show me then.”

“Show you?” He laughs, “What? You can’t just trust me?”

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’ then roll your eyes when Legend dramatically grabs his chest and flops his head back against the stone wall (something he does with more force than intended, yet he forgets about the pain quickly).

“I’m hurt! Here I was thinking I’ve moved on from being a hostile in your eyes only for weeks of effort to swirl down the drain -!”

“- You’re not a hostile, just an idiot,” You push yourself off the wall and extend a hand to him, “Regardless, I’m afraid I’ll need a demonstration in order to believe you.”

Legend glances at your hand, biting down his nerves which he prays you don’t notice. It really is a simple request and it’s not like you’d both be alone. Other couples are already dancing, some showing creatively in how wildly they move while others move slowly as if joint as one…It shouldn’t be a big deal to take your hand, but for some reason it is, the thought making his heart race.

“Please, Link?”

Your eyes are pleading and soon he finds himself too weak to ignore them anymore. Reluctantly, he accepts your hand and puts up no further fight as you then eagerly drag him into the crowd. 

Standing amongst all these people, Legend finds himself a bit bashful, wondering if perhaps this is going to be a mistake because surely if anyone notices you together, they’ll mention it later on and he’ll be forced to question exactly what this interaction means, but that’ll have to be a worry for later. Once you find a suitable spot close to the music, you turn around with a bright smile which is plenty to convince him it’s too late to back out; he’s already in too deep.

And so you both dance. Your hands placed upon his shoulders, his delicately holding your hips. You’re clearly no stranger to this art form, moving perfectly in sync with the rhythm while guiding Legend to do the same. He, himself, has danced plenty of times before during his journeys, but with you it feels different. It feels more special and natural with you as his partner. There’s a slowness to the world, one he feels all too often when in your presence yet this time, it’s amplified. He truly hears nothing from the crowd. Even the music is a distant echo completely overshadowed by your beauty as you sparkle under the colored lights above.

Legend normally isn’t one to let others close, often keeping them at arm's length in fear that nothing good will come from making friends, especially friends who he meets during his travels. You shouldn’t be different. He met you only weeks ago and isn’t quite sure how ‘visiting’ will work considering he ended up here by total accident. Despite every rational thought telling him he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up towards you, it’s all ignored when you allow him to twirl you around with ease until you return right back in front of him, the difference being you’re now closer, pressed against his chest instead of being kept at arm's length. 

You’re intoxicating. Like an alcoholic who treasures his last beer bottle, Legend can’t seem to let you go. He can only find himself smiling in a dazed sort of way - dazed by you simply being you as you slip your hands down to his chest and rest your head upon his shoulder. 

“...Can I say something that might sound weird?”

“Everything you say is weird.”

Despite his teasing tone, you move your head off his shoulder to look into his eyes with such a gentle smile that, for a second, he’s convinced he’ll melt, “I’m really happy you washed up on our shore. I…really like having you around.”

“I -...” The words feel trapped in his throat, wanting so desperately to be said as you wait patiently for some kind of response. He knows you won’t mind not getting one since you understand him as being the quiet type anyways, but regardless, “...I like being here with you, too.”

You beam - like a sun rising over the ocean, your eyes lit up and your smile glows. It not only means the world for you to hear that from the man who’s always been so reserved around you, but it’s also important for him to say himself. He really likes you. You’ve quickly become the music in his life - the rhythm he wants to forever move to and melody he wants to forever cherish. He’d be fine if you keep resting your head against him, humming along to the song that’ll forever haunt his mind…That’s how he wishes things had stayed.

In reality, he had remained silent that evening and for all those following, refusing an answer you unfortunately never pushed for. Maybe you already knew, maybe you didn’t, however neither outcome changes his inner desire for you nor the pain he feels every day without you by his side. He’s not sure what hurts the most anymore: the fact that you’re gone or the fact that you never existed to begin with. Now, he’ll never get to hold you again, never get a chance to swallow his fears and just confess his feelings to see how you would’ve reacted. All he gets is this agonizing memory that haunts him anytime he hears festival music similar to that night he spent with you during that summer solstice on Koholint…

[cornyonmains]

Decided to read the novel for My Stand In, which is titled Professional Body Double. I'm a little disappointed with some of the changes the show made. Needless to say, novel spoilers ahead, though I won't touch on anything that hasn't happened in the show, as I'm only halfway through the book. Anyways, on to my first beef with the show.

One of the most informative aspects of Joe's character was changed. In the novel, Joe had also never been on bottom before, but that wasn't because he was holding out for someone special. At the beginning of the novel Joe is fielding offers for threesomes, the guy's been around the block and doesn't have a huge attachment to his virginity. Joe's character never bottomed because he'd quite simply never gotten the offer thanks to his more masculine looks. What makes this even more depressing is you find out that he thought it might have been his preference in the first place, but Joe being Joe, advocated about as well for himself during sex as he did anything else.

I think it was unwise to switch things up the way they did, because it really does explain a lot about why Joe was willing to suffer so many indignities to be with Ming. Joe asked for very little from the people in his life and didn't get it. Joe never really stood a chance when Ming came along and started giving him what he wanted.

Another thing I thought it was a shame the show didn't highlight is that in the novel, there's a fairly considerable age gap between Joe and Ming. Ming is 20 and Joe is 30. This actually offered a lot of explanation as to why Joe ignored a lot of Ming's red flags. He didn't ignore them, he just chalked a lot of it up to Ming being young and spoiled. But that's not to say the novel lets Joe off the hook.

Joe was, and I truly do lack a better word to describe this, completely servile to Ming. In the novels he waited on him hand and foot, created no real sexual boundaries with him, and preferred placating Ming's temper over challenging it. He was willing to meet any conditions for them to be together.

Ming's character progression is something I wish the show could have found a way to depict. Because during this time, Ming's development wasn't stagnant. What Joe had right, to an extent, was that Ming was young and still learning how to process his feelings. Towards the end of their first relationship, Ming had managed, for the most part, to regard Joe as completely distinct from Tong, and not just as a replacement. It's heavily implied he was in love with Joe, but just didn't know how to process these realizations that kept coming to him in piecemeal.

Ming liked the happy and relaxed environment he had with Joe in his condo, he was convinced nobody would ever be as sexually compatible with him as Joe, and he'd actually wanted to support him the first time Joe came home completely exhausted from set, but didn't say anything about it until he fucked up. Ming, who ran away to America as soon as he realized he was gay, did what Ming always did, he was quietly processing things, and was too young and stupid to give Joe a clue. He took for granted that Joe would be, in HIS words, obedient and docile.

The author of this, Shui Qian Qeng, is so good at writing gay toxicity it's stupid. It made me wonder if they're part of the community, but we don't speculate in this house, it's just a passing thought I had due to how nuanced the depiction of sexual confusion in this book is, particularly with Sol's character. Sexual confusion in BL tends to play very formulaically on screen. Existential crisis, a few heartfelt conversations, one cursed episode, a kiss at the end of the season, and everyone lives happily ever after. In the novel, Sol struggles for years, and is still processing his sexuality in an unhealthy way because the 'I'm straight, but only gay for this one guy in particular' trope so often used in BL is used in this novel, but to convey denial and sexual struggle. Upon Joe's death, Sol is still saying he's straight, but that Joe's the exception. This is treated with much deserved skepticism. Shui Qian Qeng, as a queer person who knows you're not reading this, bless you for that. I so desperately wish Sol's story would have been better adapted for the show.

To wrap things up on a lighter note, I also found out by reading this novel that tops and bottoms are referred to as ones and zeros in China. And my sheltered Midwestern ass was like, "Well that's rude." because one of them was a zero. Then I was like, "Well why would someone refer to themselves as a zero? That's not healthy." Then I started thinking about what the numbers looked like, 0 and 1, and was like, "Oh." It was an emotional rollercoaster.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Eleven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so happy I'm actually able to upload once a week now! I'm sure you guys are too. xD This story and the support it has gotten is one of the only reasons I stuck through my severe depression. I feel like this character has so much to say. She's all the women who have been a victim of men. She's the breaker of the generational cycles of misogyny women before her suffered. She was weak and powerless because of the systems put in place, but not anymore. Many women throughout actual history have been written out, forgotten, or replaced by men. 

P.S. I decided to feature some Middle English dialogue to make things sound more ~fancy~ when it comes to written words. Also note that starting from this point on, everything that happens in the story is throughout two and a half years.

Translation Guide: Perzītsos: Little Flame. Muña: Mother or mom. Sōvēs: Fly. Prithee: Middle English for please. 

Chapter Warnings: Jace is a turdy younger brother, and the italics when speaking is High Valyrian, which I didn't feel like butchering the translation of.

"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."- C.S. Lewis.

You strolled along the halls of Dragonstone, content and relaxed with your arms clasped behind your grey-blue dress, parchment that you haphazardly wrapped together in your hands. It had been freezing these past few days, and you had to bring out some of your winter gowns.

It was always so cold here on the island. Even in the scorching summer heat, there was always a chill in the breeze. It was nothing like Kings Landing. Though the air was icy, it was clean, with a free-flowing salty smoke smell that wafted through the cracks in the walls instead of the sticky, humid stench of sweat that permeated over all of Kings Landing.

As servants dressed in the traditional bright red garments passed you, each bowed, stopping for their Princess. Even though you were still just a bastard in their hearts, they treated you respectfully, as if you weren't. You had done more in your years here at Dragonstone than they could ever wish to accomplish in their lives.

You had claimed a dragon, the fiercest and most wild one ever to conquer the Westrosi skies. You studied history and philosophy, mastering your ancestor's natural tongue quicker than any of your brothers. You learned to wield the sword as a man, besting serval of the knights that tried you.

When lords and envoys came, negotiating imports and exports between the Island and that of the mainland, seeking to manipulate the heir to the Iron Throne simply because she had teats instead of a cock, you advised her, observing through hidden passages inside the walls and whispering to your mother what you thought.

You were brilliant, too clever for your own good; Daemon would often say, warning you about the dangers of a man's ego. There was no wrath like a man whose pride was wounded. They had started wars over the fact.

"Perzītsos!" Rhaenyra called out to you as you entered the Chamber. A topographical map of Westeros carved into a sturdy wood, each set of land painted in different colors. Quickly, you shoved the letter up your sleeve, hiding it from your parent's eyes.

"Good morn, Muña. What appears to be on the agenda today?" You smiled at your mother, bending forward to give her a peck on the cheek, continuing to keep the letter out of view.

She sighed through her nose, leaning her palms on the table. "Your father has made it his current obsession to support the troops battling in the Stepstones. An opinion in which I agree but not many others share," she said, shaking her head.

"You speak as if I have no ears," Daemon commented like an upset child, crossing his arms.

"Those stuffy cunts of the Small Council won't do anything unless the war is upon their hearth," you spoke in High Valyrian, an annoyed stare directed at the Lords surrounding the Painted Table. "Inaction at the face of those in need aid the oppressor," you declared, now speaking in the common tongue and moving your body to become eye level with your mother.

From his place across the table, Ser Steffon Darkling grinned wistfully, reminiscing at your untainted conviction. It was a quality after years of serving the crown he had lost.

"Despite what you and your father believe," your mother began, finally addressing Daemon, who stood proudly to the side, "we cannot simply send men to the battlefield. There is a process we have to follow, people we have to sway to our side that have historically refused to do anything in the Stepstones."

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his stance. Rhaenyra did the same at his immaturity, sticking her nose in the air. They, indeed, were a match made by the Gods.

As heated discussion commenced, you observed the advisors bickering at one another, their hands wildly gesturing as they spoke. You listened intently to their words while staring at the map, tracings the lines with your pupils as the parchment scratched at your wrist. Supplies were most critical for Lord Corlys than actual swords, you gathered from their arguments, biting your lip as you listened to the options people spouted.

Everything they said was nonsense, some wanting to wait until the Hand accepted their petitions which would be a death sentence for all who occupied those disputed islands.

"The crown will not supply men without consent of the Small Council and the King. That is something we cannot change," you interrupted, looking at each of their surprised faces. "But we still owe it to our Valyrian brothers to help them in anyway we can." As they watched, eyes bulging out of their sockets at your instruction, you twisted your arms behind your back to straighten your posture. "They have been steadfast supporters of the crown going back decades, and they are family." Your voice softened towards the end, staring into your mother's and father's eyes. "It is our duty and honor to do what we can to aid their efforts."

"And what do you suggest then, Princess," an advisor, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, interrupted.

You eyed the older man coldly. He was an unrelenting, incorruptible, and highly wealthy Lord—years of commanding people with ingenious strategies from his towers. Daemon had told you that your mother would need an ally when she ascended the throne.

"We have three able-bodied dragon riders, do we not," you questioned him with an arched brow. "Prince Daemon, myself, and my brother Prince Jacaerys will escort our fleet of ships with supplies—weaponry, food, clothing, healing salves, anything they might need."

"Prithee, Princess, where we would acquire such supplies." Lord Bartimos laughed condescendingly to the sky, the black fur lining his coat shining in the daylight as he shook his head at nothing. It was your turn to smile, showing your teeth as you revealed the elegant paper.

"I have received a raven, Lord Celtigar, from Kings Landing." You quickly looked at your parents simultaneously as their heads snapped toward you and smiled apologetically. You could see Daemon's fury at the secret you kept from him but refused to wither under his gaze. "I was invited to Prince Aegon's name day celebration. Personally," you spoke, your posture stiff and your chin held high. "While there, I will talk with my Grandsire and the Council to ensure our supplies and safe travels."

Bartimos laughed again, grabbing the bronze chalice of mead he had sat down and taking a quick drink. "You believe you can convince the King, let alone the Small Council, to give us aid to the Stepstones," he scoffed and faced Rhaenyra. "I mean no disrespect to his majesty, but we realize it is not him sitting on the Iron Throne; the Hand is. And it will not matter to him what you petition. They have consistently denied ever becoming involved in the Stepstones."

"My father is still the King, despite with rumors you may have heard," Rhaenyra defended, "and your blatant disrespect of him will not be forgotten." She turned to you with a bittersweet but proud smile as she stroked the long, intricate braids on your head. "You have grown wise and strong, perzītsos. You have my approval to go."

Daemon continued to stare at you, unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes darted to the silver buttons on his tunic as he brushed your mother aside and gripped your arms firmly. He was unyielding as Rhaenyra dismissed the meeting until tomorrow.

"You received a letter from Kings Landing?" He leaned down, whispering heatedly in your face. You nodded, a guilty expression covering your features. "When did you think about telling me this, hmm? Have you forgotten what they did to you?" He questioned harshly.

"My love," Rhaenyra whispered, stroking a gentle hand along his shoulder blade. He calmed instantly, inhaling as he let go, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Though it has been years, I have not forgotten what they did," you scowled, stepping away from him. "I know Otto Hightower will be the hardest to sway. His great disdain for our family and us is not unknown to me, but he will have no other choice than to yield once Grandsire and I speak."

Your father huffed and looked away, a childish act from a grown man, as Rhaenyra smiled gratefully. "I am so proud of you, sweet girl," she said kindly, tears forming in her eyes. "You are ever the grown woman, cunning and wit and beauty. I have no doubt you will bring us what we need."

"Thank you, mother." You tried not to show how deeply her words moved you, swallowing a lump in your throat as your cheeks and ears heated. You bowed, exiting as Daemon gave you one last unamused look before Rhaenyra turned sharply toward him.

***

You had read that letter at least a hundred times before you attended the meeting, the contents coming as quite the shock, making your knees buckle over each sentence. It was not addressed to your family as invitations like this should be, but directly to you, from the Queen herself.

Initially, you had come to the Chamber to inform your parents of the note, hardening your heart as you shoved any empathy regarding what Queen Alicent had asked of you and thinking this could be useful to them.

A knock sounded at your door, gentle yet firm as you bid them enter, folding the letter into your lap. Daemon's lithe form crowded the doorway, light from the hall outlining his silhouette as his boots thudded on the stone floor. You refused to acknowledge his presence.

"I came to apologize," he spoke, but you ignored him, still turning your head away and walking to your desk, shutting the letter inside a drawer. "Twas... wrong of me to have acted in such a manner."

Finally, you faced him, looking at his taut expression and putting your fists on your waist.

"That sounded painful, Father," you teased, though you still hid anger beneath your smirk. "I shall call Maester Gerardys to fix you some healing tea."

Your father sighed, dragging his feet to an armchair near the stone fireplace and plopping in it. He cradled his head in his palms, sighing profoundly and moving his body in your direction. Moments like these were the only times you saw the actual inner workings of your father. Alone and after he has made a mistake. You sat in the seat across from him, staring at his aged face and white shoulder-length hair as he thought over his words.

"I should not have acted the way I did," he began, sighing as if he was disappointed with himself as he studied the small orange flames before him. "I forget, sometimes, that you are not like them. Those cunts at court who seek to undermine I and Rhaenyra's claim to the throne."

"Mother's claim to the throne," you corrected, and Daemon grunted, nodding his head curtly.

"The Hightowers seek to undermine your mother's right. They have believed since Aegon was born that he should be named heir because he is a male. Years of precedent my brother had set tossed aside simply for a boy who does not want it nor deserve it."

You looked away, moving your gaze from him to the floor as you chewed your lip. He was right. Everyone in the realm felt the uncertainty of Rhaenyra's claim, but no one believed the Hightowers would actively try to supplant her beside Daemon... and now you. You couldn't trust them not to take advantage of such an opportunity because you knew Daemon himself would if given a chance. You had experienced the evil they could commit, something you believed your father would never do, how the Queen turned a blind eye to the Hand's decision to murder and publicly shame people you loved.

"My invitation to Kings Landing could be more advantageous than I thought," you said aloud. Daemon did not outwardly acknowledge your words. Only the ghost of a smirk let you know he was listening.

"If Prince Aegon does not want the crown," you said to yourself more than anything, "what is preventing them from crowning him any way upon Grandsire's death? With enough persuasion the Prince could change his mind. A glutton would surely not turn away a feast simply because someone said no."

"We have preparations set in place for that moment. The bells will be rung upon his death, and a raven will be sent here to summon Rhaenyra for her corination." Daemon shrugged, watching the dwindling fire before him. You looked at him perplexed.

"That is all," you questioned, and he nodded.

"And honor, I suppose," he offered half-heartedly. "The lords of the kingdom have sworn fealty to her. In everyone else's minds, the matter is set."

"Do you think a man such as Otto Hightower, a man who has been removed from his position once before for conspiring in his own self-interests, has honor?" You abruptly stood, pacing between the fire and Daemon as you crossed your arms, pulling the skin off your lip. "He will do everything in his power to keep Mother off the throne and crown someone who is his kin. There has to be more done to secure Mother's place and make sure there are no doubts about secession after Grandsire's death."

You were irate, vividly gesturing as you thought of what to do, of what plans to make. On the other hand, your father sat still, completely unmoving, as the light danced over his pale skin. You became irritated at his lack of response, kicking his boot in frustration.

"What do you suggest we do, daughter? There is only so much one can in such a short time. A name day celebration only lasts till the next morrow's dawn, and it would be improper to stay longer than customary."

Your mind stopped at his words, glancing over at your mahogany desk. There would be a way for you to stay longer, long enough to change preparations to ensure a smooth succession.

"I am certain there is a way I can arrange for a greater," you paused, looking at your father's sitting form, "stay. If you are willing to let me, of course," you hastily added.

A grin slowly spread across Daemon's pink lips, the closest to a smile you would ever get from him, as he stood. He rested his hands on your shoulders like always when he wanted his point heard.

"Good. Like your mother, I have faith that you will succeed. Failure is not in our blood," he spoke, his purple eyes following the white streak in your hair. "I know you care deeply for her, which is why this needs to be kept between father and daughter. I do not want any undue stress upon her as we plan for another child soon," he said in a lowered voice.

You nodded, your lashes fluttering with a faint smile as he left your chambers. Breathing deeply, you went to your desk, plucking the note from the drawer as you reread it.

"I hope this letter finds thou well. Despite your start, I have heard tales of the feats thou have accomplished and how you have grown into a lady fitting of thy station. Though I realize we did not leave within the terms I had wished the last time thou visited the Keep, I need thy help. My son, Prince Aegon, hath become unruly since you have left. He lives inside the brothels on the Streets of Silk and drinks until he cannot move. He hath gone missing multiple times in the past months.

Watchmen discovered him in a pool of his own gore, and when I reminded him of his intended name-day celebration within a fortnight and all who were expected to be in attendance, he was enraged. I had never seen him in such a way. Aegon now refuses to attend for unknown reasons and hath disappeared again. I dispatched Ser Criston Cole to find my son, but he hath had nay luck.

I implore thou to forgive the details that I am about to divulge. Years after thou had left the Red Keep, I had come looking for Aegon within his chambers and had found what couldst only be titled as an alter for thou. Dresses, underclothes, bed linens, stockings, miniature portraits of thou, and a journal were sullied and hidden inside a compartment within his mattress. I realize it was wrong of me to dost so, and I have prayed to the Seven in recompense, but I chose to read his diary's contents. What I saw inside were the inner thoughts of a madman.

I am disgusted by what I read, but it couldst be used to the advantage. Depravity depicted in such blatant language, vulgar thoughts, and words that nearly stopped my heart, but what disturbed me the most was that thou were in it. I know of the time you and Aegon spent together and his lingering feelings toward you.

I beg thou, pray, come to Kings Landing. Thou art my only hope to stop the shame brought upon this family by his absence. I wilt give thou whatever thou desire in thanks.

Nay soul knows the contents of our correspondence, and I wouldst like it to continue that way.

With sincere regards, Queen Alicent of House Hightower"

The Queen was a simpleton to believe that her begging could make you feel an ounce of sympathy toward her plights. You did not owe her anything. For all you cared, Aegon could fuck every woman in Kings Landing, never appear at any event, and drink himself to death, and it would still not be enough shame cast upon her family.

The Hightowers deserved to suffer—every single one of them.

***

It had been three days since you had received Queen Alicent's letter begging for your help. It was plenty of time to send one of your own to the Red Keep and pack your things.

Rhaenyra had found it odd that only you had been the one to receive an invitation to what indeed should be a family event. All the noble houses that were sent a raven would surely bring along their spouse and gaggle of children.

Despite the petty attempt at an insult this was to Rhaenyra and her kin, she did not pry further nor send word of her displeasure to her past friend. The trip did serve a hidden purpose from House Hightower, so she let the offense slip with the wind.

"Sister. You truly do not desire to return to that den of vipers," Jaceaerys questioned as the Dragonkeepers perilously dragged Cannibal's chained body. It was something you could never watch as you lowered your gaze to your riding pants.

It always stung your heart to observe such a wild beast in shackles, the Keepers hitting him with whips if he disobeyed. Dragons cannot be tamed with soft riders, you chanted internally. The reminder of it carved into the flesh of your palm. You had to be brave, strong, and intelligent. Kindness did not get you a dragon.

"Sister," Jace waved his hand beside you, "are you even hearing my words?" You hummed, nodding as you looked into his brown eyes, which were not so different from yours.

"Yes, I am listening, brother," you replied condescendingly. "My desire is certain. I will travel to Kings Landing upon their request, for it would be rude to refuse the words of the Queen."

"The Queen sent it to you?" he asked, incredulous, his black eyebrows raising to the sky as you gave him a perplexed look.

"Did I not tell you," you requisitioned, tilting your head at his bewildered expression. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but you swiftly cut him off. "It is no matter who sent it, so I do not see why you are concerned."

He huffed, crossing his arms as he toed the loose stones in front of the entrance to Dragonmont. You rolled your eyes.

Yes, you did love your half-brother as if he was truly your whole, but the lack of blood relation did not make him any less annoying.

"Why would they only invite you? I am to inherit the Iron Throne after Mother. It should be I mounting my dragon and flying to Kings Landing," he said proudly but with envy in his tone. "I am the Kings grandson and not the bastard of-"

"Jacaerys!" Your mother shouted, Lucserys's and Joffrey's hands in her own, closely followed by the rest of your family and some servants to see you off. "Give your apologies to your sister, now."

Jace turned to you, red tinting his cheeks and mumbling under his breath as he went to stand beside the nursemaids holding the twins, Viserys and Aegon. You walked over to your mother, showing none of the bottled emotions your brother had opened as she wrapped you in her warm embrace.

"I will miss you my perzītsos," she whispered into your tightly braided hair. "No matter what anyone says, we are your family, and the blood of the dragon flows strongly within you."

You looked up at her violet eyes, shimmering in a pool of unshed tears as you smiled and said you would miss her. It would be the first time since you had been brought to Dragonstone you ever traveled anywhere without your family.

Occasionally, you would travel to Driftmark for Rhaena's name day or holidays so she could be with her twin and grandparents or when the rare Lord would invite Rhaenyra to gain her favor as the heir. Your family had their own little world here on Dragonstone, so there was no reason to leave it.

You gave each of your younger siblings a kiss on the cheek, promising Luke how you would write every moment you could. Rhaena, whom you never had a close relationship with despite sharing the same father, came, offering you a sincere smile and hug before you reached Jace.

He couldn't look at you, his eyes focusing on anything but his half-sister standing before him. You stepped closer, surprising him with a genuine hug before whispering.

"We are more alike than you think. I believe that is why we tend to fight so much," you paused, pulling him closer to your body under the guise of a sentimental moment as he processed your words. "But once you accept that we are not so different, perhaps we will finally have nothing to upset our parents about." You felt his sharp intake of breath as you released him. The implication hung in the air as you gave him a loving smile and a peck on his nose before you went to Daemon.

Your father nodded to the servants behind him as you watched them, bewildered. They carried a rectangular item wrapped in a leather cloth, the shape unmistakable as they uncovered it, placing it delicately not to hurt Daemon.

The sheath was as golden as the sun as your father removed it, the longsword blade reflecting a mirror image of the grey sky above. Its hilt had the same gold with intricate designs on the smaller-than-average handle that expanded its way up to the blade, licking the steel like flames. The crossguard comprised two dragons on opposing sides, turning their head to bite the blade. A blood-red ruby sat in the center, surrounded by what you could only assume were four circles of Dragonglass. It reminded you of Dark Sister, Daemon's sword, only more ornate.

You could not form words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish thrown onto the shore. You wanted to thank him. Spout your never-ending gratefulness and praise until the end of time, but none of that leaves your lips.

"Could I hold it," you asked Daemon, your eyes flicking to his and the sword. He smirked, his eye wrinkling in the corner as he placed it in your upturned palms.

It was heavier than the training swords you used, sharper than them, too, as you run your finger across the blade. You were sure it had taken some convincing on Daemon's part to get Rhaenyra to agree to have your own weapon. You had overheard them arguing behind closed doors regarding your upbringing on more than one occasion. Your half-mother refusing to let Daemon commission you a simple sword of your own, and your father arguing back about how she had no say over his blood.

You knew what it meant to have your own sword. It was more than finally showing your prowess and reaching your full potential but was a silent way of your mother and father believing you were ready and that it was your turn to teach and guide yourself in the art of life and the dangers that came with it.

"Thank you, father," you quietly breathed, hooking the sword onto the leather belt of your pants.

Its golden sheath stood out among the black cloth of your outfit, clashing with the silver that accented your body. You would have to commission new clothes once you were in Kings Landing.

Daemon said nothing, tilting his head as you came in for a firm embrace. He squeezed you tightly, nearly crushing your ribs as he rested his chin on your hair, noting Rhaena's avoidant gaze. This was the most affection you had received from him, never having been the type of man who smothered his family in kisses and hugs. You melted at his touch, smiling into his chest as you both stood there for the longest time, making no effort to pull away until the young Viserys sneezed.

"You will write to me very day, yes?" Daemon questioned, his hands on your shoulders as he raised his brows.

"Of course," you said passionately. "Everything I see, every whisper, rumor I hear will be sent to you." He hummed in approval, releasing you as you climb atop your dragon.

You adjusted yourself in your saddle, stationed between two of Cannibal's large spikes, as you gave your family one last parting glance.

Though you were on one of the most enormous dragons in the world, you could still see the teary eyes of Jace, your mother, and Luke. All looked up at you with the same expressions as you pressed your lips to your leather riding gloves, sending each of them a genuinely heartfelt kiss.

"Sōvēs!" You shouted, and the black dragon reared its hind legs, pushing off the rocky ground as he lifted his wings.

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If you want to know what her sword is based on, here is the link. Her sword has much more pizzazz than the one pictured because she is royalty. xD Let's just send a silent prayer for Aegon in the next chapter. He's gonna need it because someone has unresolved trauma.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter

[orionsangel86]

The Problem With Thessaly

I’m sure plenty of fans would agree with me that there are certain elements of the Sandman comics that are going to be very difficult to adapt for television. I don’t envy the mammoth task Neil and the creative team on the show have ahead of them. But one element in particular which has been on my mind frequently is how they are going to introduce Thessaly to our screens.

It’s not just that she’s a TERF. It’s that she’s a cold, cruel, selfish, and inconsiderate bitch who only ever thinks about herself. Oh yeah, and she’s a huge TERF. There isn’t a single likeable element to her.

And yet.

We are supposed to somehow believe that our main protagonist, idiotic as he may sometimes be, depressed and seriously down on his luck as he is, will fall head over heels in love with her.

Sorry. But it ain’t happening. Something has gotta change. So here are my thoughts on how they could fix the Thessaly Problem.

Under a cut for comic spoilers (and its a bit long)

I kinda get the reason it happens in the comics. Kinda. I can’t remember the exact quote, or where I read it, but Neil explained it as “two people who you know are absolutely not right for each other and no one who knows them can understand why they are together.” He purposely wrote it to be a really weird match that didn’t make sense.

From Dream’s perspective, at this point in the story he has just had some of his biggest romantic disasters slapped in his face (at one point literally) all within a very short space of time for an entity as long lived as him. First Calliope, then Nada, and then Alianora, and he is hurting from all of them. Having to face his romantic failures one after another within the space of a few years AFTER having to go through 70 odd years of relentless suffering trapped in a glass prison has GOT to mess with your head. So I think Thessaly is basically the worst rebound in history. They are only canonically together for a few weeks but he somehow falls head over heels for this plain, dull, horrible person. 100% this is a rebound. He’s messed up. So yeah, I kinda get it.

From Thessaly’s perspective it seems she just really liked the idea of being the object of someones attention and desire even though she never returned his feelings and left him the minute he stopped devoting all his attention to her (god she really is a bitch).

So why don’t I think this will work in the show?

Because the show is a kinder universe than the comic. Dream is different in the show. He is already more thoughtful, warm, compassionate, and has a better self awareness when it comes to his shortcomings. He’s also a far more romantic character in the show, which is probably thanks to Tom Sturridge’s excellent performance and likeability and absolutely maddening sexual chemistry with literally every character he interacts with (his pretty face doesn’t hurt either). You just have to look at his scenes with Calliope to know that they are playing up the romance and kindness there when in the comics Dream is extremely cold to Calliope throughout their very short interactions.

Given the news that the writing team on Game of You will include trans writers specifically to cover the sensitivities of honouring Wanda, I don’t know how they will adapt the transphobia she suffers at Thessaly’s hand, or whether they will include that at all - personally I think they should remove it. Not to make Thessaly more likeable, but because it reinforces a really wrong view of witchcraft and magick that modern witches and pagans are working extremely hard to reject. Not to get too deep into these topics, but transphobia is a fucking plague in those communities and the last thing we need is more people thinking everyone who practices witchcraft is a fucking TERF. The comic even goes so far as to imply the actual MOON is transphobic. Like WTF? The moon isn’t fucking transphobic and “womb magic” is stupid. If I ever have to read the words “divine feminine” in a witchcraft FB group again I’m gonna scream.

Anyway my point is that I don’t think those scenes in the comic are necessary and there are plenty of other ways to adapt that story without resorting to transphobia.

The other issue is that if they do keep it in, they somehow have to deal with the fact that their protagonist is seemingly totally cool with dating a transphobic murderous bitch. Um. Yeah, not cool Dream. I think the show is going to do everything it can to make Dream MORE likeable and based on what we have seen so far I definitely think that’s the route they are taking.

So yeah Dream won’t be falling in love with a TERF in the show, that I am sure of.

The thing is, the best way they can deal with the Thessaly problem is also the simplest - Don’t include her. Just don’t write her into the show. Simples.

Because we already have a character in the show universe who technically doesn’t exist in comic canon, who knows magic and the occult, and who is MUCH more likeable and kind whilst still being a bit messy and selfish and totally a terrible match for Dream... Oh, and who also happens to be played by possibly the most well known actor on the shows main cast list.

Johanna Constantine.

Jenna Coleman is a fairly big name and one of the primary stars for the show. At least Netflix seemed to think so since her face was all over the marketing and she was included in basically every cast interview, even though her character only turns up in 1 and a half episodes. She is also playing a new version of an already well known character in pop culture and I am convinced Netflix is already considering spin off options for her. So there is no way they aren’t going to include her in future episodes of the Sandman.

Except thats where Netflix has a problem if it wants to stick to comic canon. Lady Johanna Constantine only turns up in one more Sandman story, and John Constantine doesn’t show up again at all in the comics.

So my piece of speculation that I’m almost 90% certain will happen, is that they will bring back modern Johanna Constantine in an extended or adapted role based on another character.

My money is on Thessaly. Remove Thessaly, replace her with Johanna.

I’m not just saying this because I think Johanna and Morpheus hooking up will be hot (it will be, don’t deny it. My bisexual ass knows a hot couple when I see them). But because it makes sense.

Yeah okay we have that pesky little rule about the Endless not dating mortals - but that rule currently doesn’t exist in show canon either, so theres no reason why they can’t just also scrap that for the sake of some sexy, messy, and definitely disastrous bi4bi action.

All jokes aside, with only a few tweaks to the story in a Game of You, you could seemlessly fit Johanna into it. She can be in New York for a specific case, hell, maybe Barbie and the sudden appearance of Martin Tenbones on a busy New York street IS the case she’s investigating? She can still find a way to break Hazel and Foxglove into the Dreaming AND when Morpheus shows up they can have another tantalising showdown like they did in episode 3. It works better with Johanna tbh. She actually cares about people, the motivation is there for her to want to save Barbie and protect people from supernatural sources. We can just make the storm and the collapse of the apartment block be caused by George or the cuckoo or something (or not have it happen at all since I am also practically certain that Wanda is NOT going to die in the show).

This ALSO means that much later on, when Lyta is having her breakdown and destroying the Dreaming, having Johanna being the one to protect her from Morpheus rather than Thessaly also adds a more human element to it. Morpheus has never been a killer, but sometimes his duties demand it. He goes to kill Lyta to prevent the Kindly Ones destroying the Dreaming. If it is Johanna blocking him instead of Thessaly, their motives align. Johanna would protect Lyta for the simple fact that she won’t let a supernatural creature harm a human (as much as she can - sorry Kevin), and Morpheus, being hesitant about killing anyway, would be easily talked out of it by Johanna. “Find another way to save the Dreaming, I won’t let you harm her.”

It just adds an emotional weight that isn’t there with Thessaly, who only protects Lyta because she made a deal with the Kindly Ones in exchange for more centuries of life - an ironic request when Morpheus (and Death) are keeping Hob Gadling alive simply so he can be Dream’s BFF.

It just works for me. Scrap the “no mortals” rule and you can have them have the messy disastrous relationship that doesn’t work out. It is far more believable that Johanna Constantine could break Dream’s heart - she’s already a known heartbreaker in the show (sorry Rachel). It’s a doomed love story a modern audience can get behind, makes sense, the actors already have insane sexual chemistry, and it could definitely hit all those story beats needed to get the show to a version of the Kindly Ones whilst also actively improving it.

I may first and foremost be a Dreamling shipper, but talking in terms of canon I very much want Morpheus to have a passionate short-lived heart breaking affair with Johanna. Fuck Thessaly. Keep her relegated to comic canon. Morphanna all the way.

And THAT is how we fix the problem with Thessaly.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 7 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Seven: I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours 

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack, Insecurities,

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Canonically, I know the Sand Snakes are in the Water Gardens, but I decided to go with what @forever-rogue did which is make ‘em stay at Hellholt. So shout out to her for being an incredible writer and one of the people who inspired me to gather my courage to write my own Oberyn fic. GO READ HER STUFF! Anyways, here we are, this is where I am literally in uncharted territories and have no script to go off from lmao. The next chapters of this fic are less conflict-focused and more romance-focused, and from here on out everything is almost canon-divergent hehe. It’s safe to expect that things will spice up from here! Lastly, I made the gif myself lmao. I’m lowkey proud of myself for that heheheh

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

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A FEW DAYS LATER...  

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — NIGHT

The Red Keep’s halls felt different now, the tension from the trial lingering in the air like a suffocating cloud. You had been busy—preparing, strategizing, making sure every piece of the plan to take down Lord Tywin was in place. Yet, in the quiet moments between schemes, your mind drifted to Oberyn. You hadn’t seen him since you left that note by the ocean, but every day, you wondered if he still waited for you.

You step into the cool night air near the docks, the moonlight bathing everything in silver. The wine bottle feels heavy in your hand as you make your way to the familiar spot. And there he is, just as you hoped, standing by the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something—or someone.

“I brought wine.” Your voice breaks the silence, and Oberyn turns. His gaze locks onto you, and in that moment, you see it all—the pain, the confusion, the anger, and the relief. He had been waiting, even though he had every reason to walk away.

“You…” he begins, his voice rough as if words are failing him. “You’re here.” He takes a small step forward, the moonlight catching the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “How could you? You left me... Do you know how much I’ve—"

You interrupt him gently, your heart in your throat. “I’ve missed you.”

He stops, the burden of your words hanging between you. His voice cracks when he asks, “Then why did you leave me again?”

You take a step closer, the scent of the sea mixing with the faint spice of Dornish air. “Maybe... maybe it was out of love, not revenge.”

Oberyn’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he wipes at the tears staining his cheeks. “Love? You call it love when you disappear, when you leave me with nothing but ghosts to hold onto?”

His words slice through you, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I had to go. There’s something more important than just us. Tyrion… he needs me. And so do you. I wasn’t running away—I was preparing. We’re going to take down Lord Tywin.”

Oberyn’s eyes widen slightly, the mention of Tyrion and Tywin pulling him from his anger. “You’ve been planning with him… to destroy Tywin?”

You nod, stepping even closer now. “I’ve been preparing to help. To take down the man who’s done so much harm to both of us.”

He stares at you, the anger fading into something softer, something broken. “I haven’t been well,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “My revenge didn’t go as I planned. Nothing has.”

You take the final step, your bodies almost touching. “Then maybe you need a tutor,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “Would you like me to give you lessons… in revenge?”

Oberyn closes his eyes at your touch, his breath shaky as he leans into your hand. “And what will you teach me?”

You smile faintly, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from his. “I’ll be your headsman now. I’ll be your missing piece. Tell me… who do you want me to kill first?”

His eyes open, dark and full of something raw, something desperate. And then, without another word, he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fierce, hungry, and full of all the emotions he’s been holding back.

The bottle of wine slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

The Red Keep had become a hollow shell of what it once was. Tyrion was free, but you knew the fight was far from over. Tywin will soon be gone, and the balance of power will shift, but vengeance was still afoot—Tyrion’s sights are set on Cersei and those who had wronged him. A storm was brewing, and you had no place in it.

Standing by the window of your chambers, you looked out over the sprawling city. King’s Landing was a place of betrayal, lies, and the shadows of your past. There was no life for you here, not anymore. You had done what you came to do—the Mountain was dead, and the world was changing, but it wasn’t enough to erase the scars of what had been done to you.

The sun was warm on your face as you began to pack your things, carefully folding your clothes into a simple satchel. The room felt emptier now, as if it knew you wouldn’t be returning. The last few days had been a whirlwind of plans and goodbyes, but one task remained, one ghost that needed to be laid to rest before you left this cursed city.

Reaching into the drawer, your fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of a familiar dress. The one you wore the day Elia Martell was murdered. The day the Mountain had ravaged and destroyed her, leaving you burned and scarred as you tried to escape his cruelty. The sight of it brought a flood of memories that sent a sharp pain through your chest. You lifted the dress carefully, the fabric still stained with blood and soot.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging your eyes, the one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. The pain of that day still lingered like a specter. But as you examined the dress, you felt something crinkle inside. Frowning, you reached into a hidden pocket you had never noticed before. Your fingers closed around something small and fragile—a letter.

Confusion filled you. How had you never seen this? The fabric had been untouched for years. Carefully, you unfolded the parchment, your heart pounding as you saw the handwriting. Elia’s.

The ink had faded, but the words were still legible. They hit you like a dagger to the chest.

"My dearest friend,  

If you find this, the worst has come. I beg you, do not stay in King’s Landing. Flee. Run far from Maegor’s Holdfast, away from the fighting, away from the horror that is to come. Go to Dorne, to my brothers, Oberyn and Doran. Tell them I love them, that I wished for a different end. I should have sent you sooner, but now you must go, for my sake. Please… live."

Your fingers trembled as you held the letter, your breath caught in your throat. Eighteen years. Eighteen long years, and all this time, this letter had been here, untouched. Elia had tried to save you, to send you to her brothers, to Dorne. Your chest tightened with grief and regret. If only you had found this sooner, maybe everything would have been different. 

As you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter to your chest, there was a soft knock at the door. You wiped your eyes quickly and stood as Oberyn entered the room.

His eyes immediately went to the letter in your hand. He stepped closer, his expression softening with concern. “What’s that?”

You handed it to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s from Elia.”

Oberyn’s brow furrowed as he took the letter, his gaze scanning the words. His expression hardened, a storm of emotions flashing in his eyes—grief, love, guilt. “She wanted you to go to Dorne,” he murmured. “She tried to protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I never found it. All these years, it was here, and I… I thought I had been abandoned. But Elia… she never forgot me.”

Oberyn exhaled, his jaw tightening as he folded the letter carefully. His voice was thick with emotion. “My sister loved you. She always spoke of you, even in her final days. If she had known what was coming, she would have done anything to save you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the significance of Elia’s words. “There was a time,” you whispered, “when I thought… ‘What if someone had tried to help me?’ Now I finally realize that there were good grown-ups around me, too. Friends, weather, and divine intervention, too. Now I know… she did.”

Oberyn’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “To Dorne. Come home with me. Meet my brother Doran, my daughters. Elia would’ve wanted you to see Dorne for all its beauty, for all it has to offer.”

Your heart ached at his words. Dorne had always been a place of legend in your mind, a distant dream. But now, with Oberyn standing before you, offering you the chance to finally belong, to heal, it felt like a promise of something new.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Do you really think… Elia would’ve wanted me there?”

Oberyn smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I know she would. She always said you belonged in Dorne. She wanted you to be safe, to be loved. Let me show you the home she wanted for you.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — LATER

The streets of King’s Landing were buzzing with whispers, like restless birds flocking above the ashes of a great fire. The once-powerful Lannister name now seemed vulnerable, as enemies crept from the shadows, eager to seize their chance.

You walked through the Red Keep for what would be the last time, your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. This place had never felt like home. It had always been a battlefield, not only in the physical sense but also in the games of politics and survival. You had played your part, avenging the wrongs that haunted your past. The poison Oberyn had carefully crafted for Lord Tywin will take effect soon. There was nothing left for you here. Still, there were those you needed to say goodbye to.

Your first stop was the docks. The salty breeze off Blackwater Bay tugged at your hair as you approached Serena, your faithful friend. She stood by the ship that would take her to Braavos, her belongings already packed and loaded onto the vessel.

When she saw you, her face softened, and she opened her arms. Without a word, you embraced her, the warmth of her body grounding you for a moment in the chaos of the day.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “For everything. You’ve been my strength through all of this.”

Serena smiled, pulling back slightly to look at you. Her eyes, filled with wisdom and compassion, glistened under the light of the setting sun. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough, more than enough. It’s time for you to find your own peace now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing that her words were true, but still, the thought of leaving her behind stung. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” you said softly, your voice breaking just a little.

She placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “And I’ll never forget you, my friend. Now go, before I start crying and embarrass myself.”

You both laughed softly, but the sadness lingered as you stepped back, giving her one last look before you left her there.

Your next farewell came in the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. It was a place where you'd experienced both the highest stakes and the deepest betrayals, and now you were ready to sever your ties. You passed through the halls, not lingering any longer than necessary, your thoughts already drifting far away from this pit of liars.

First, you came across Tyrion, who was standing with a small, satisfied smile on his face despite everything. His recent freedom hadn’t come without cost, but his fight was far from over. He would carry on, and you respected that.

When he noticed you, his smile faltered, turning thoughtful as he stepped closer. “I owe you my life,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “Not many would have risked what you did.”

You offered him a small, bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t for you, Tyrion. But I’m glad you’re free. You deserve better than this place.”

Tyrion’s eyes softened with understanding. “And you deserve peace, wherever you find it.”

You nodded, knowing you would never forget the strange bond you had formed with him in these dark times. “Goodbye, Tyrion. May your revenge taste sweeter than mine.”

With that, you turned away, leaving behind the one Lannister you could stomach. But there was still one more encounter you couldn’t avoid.

---

Jaime Lannister was waiting, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he leaned against the stone wall, his gaze distant as he stared out over the courtyard. You approached him, your steps measured, your face set in a cool, unreadable expression.

When he noticed you, Jaime stood straighter, his eyes flicking to yours. There was no warmth between you, only an understanding born from the knowledge of who you both were—survivors of a cruel world, playing your roles as best you could.

“I never liked you,” you said bluntly, not bothering to soften your words. “You aren’t a good man, but you never pretended to be. I can respect that.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something like amusement passing over his features. “And here I thought we were going to end things on a high note.”

You smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “You care for your family. That much I understand. But don’t mistake that for forgiveness.”

Jaime’s face darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded once, a quiet acceptance of your judgment. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Only survival.”

With that, you turned on your heel and left the Red Keep behind, feeling the weight of years of pain and bitterness slowly begin to lift from your shoulders as the doors closed behind you.

DORNE — DAY

The journey to Dorne was unlike anything you had imagined. As the landscape changed from the cold, rigid greys of King’s Landing to the warmth of Dorne, it felt as if the world itself was breathing for the first time. The golden sun bathed the rolling hills, turning the sand into rivers of light. Every breath you took felt lighter, cleaner, as if the air here was different. It smelled of spices and sea salt, a stark contrast to the rot and soot of the capital. The vibrant hues of the desert, the deep oranges and reds, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Oberyn rode beside you, silent but ever-present. His gaze lingered on you, watching as you took in the beauty of his homeland. There was an unspoken understanding between you. He had given you the space to process this new world, but you could feel his desire to share it with you. 

When the sun began its descent, casting the sky in fiery shades of red and gold, he finally broke the silence. “This is your home now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that mirrored the setting sun. “Elia would have wanted this for you—for you to find peace, to live freely.”

His words hit you with a force you hadn’t expected. The weight of everything you’d left behind—the pain, the anger, the scars—began to lift, if only just a little. You looked out at the expanse of land before you, the endless stretch of desert that seemed to go on forever, and felt tears prick your eyes. “It’s… beautiful,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t believe I waited so long to come here.”

Oberyn reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch grounding you. “You’re here now,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “That’s what matters.”

As you reached Hellholt, Ellaria’s ancestral home, the grandeur of the sandstone fortress took your breath away. The open courtyard buzzed with life as her daughters ran about, their laughter filling the air like music. You could see how much they took after their mother, fierce and unyielding, yet full of life.

Ellaria greeted you with a quiet smile, her arms wrapping around you in a hug that felt softer than you expected. The tension between you two still lingered, the unspoken feelings surrounding Oberyn’s love for you hanging heavy in the air, but there was something close to peace in her embrace.

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?” she asked, her voice low and serious as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto yours. “Oberyn means well, but sometimes… he needs someone to steady him.”

You gave her a nod, offering a reassuring smile. “I will. And we’ll visit when we can.”

Ellaria stepped back to her daughters, but not without one last glance at you—an acknowledgment that perhaps, in time, the strangeness between you two might fade. Oberyn, watching from a distance, caught your eye and smiled, pride and affection shining in his gaze.

The next morning, you and Oberyn departed Hellholt, the sound of Ellaria’s daughters’ laughter fading as you rode further into Dorne’s heart. The heat of the day settled into your skin, and as the sun rose higher, Oberyn kept you close, ensuring you were comfortable, taking every opportunity to steal a kiss or brush his fingers along your arm.

DORNE, SUNSPEAR — DAY

When you finally arrived in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, it was as though you had entered a dream. The towering spires of the palace loomed in the distance, and the city itself was bustling with life—merchants, nobles, and commoners alike filling the streets with vibrant colors and spirited conversations. The air was filled with the scent of oranges and spices, carried on the wind from the sea.

Oberyn stopped his horse and looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you against the backdrop of his homeland. “We’re home,” he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You turned to him, your heart swelling. There was something about the way he said it that made everything feel right. Home. This place—Dorne—had always been where you were meant to be, even if it had taken years to find your way here.

Oberyn dismounted and came to your side, helping you down. As your feet touched the warm sand, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Elia would have wanted you to see this,” he whispered. “To be part of this life. She always believed Dorne had a way of healing the soul.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, the love in his gaze overwhelming. “I wish she could be here,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

Oberyn smiled, though there was a sadness in it. “She is. In every sunset, in every breeze, Elia is here.”

Oberyn gathered you in his arms, “She loved you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I love you. You belong here—with me.”

The two of you stood there, the sun setting over the sea, casting long shadows over the sand. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Home.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — NOON

The gates of Sunspear opened before you, and the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking. The Water Gardens, the beloved retreat of House Martell, stretched out in all directions, a vision of tranquility and beauty. Lush greenery surrounded shimmering pools of water, each reflecting the clear blue sky above. The gardens were dotted with fountains, their soft trickling filling the air with a soothing melody. Vibrant flowers, rich in color, bloomed along the pathways, their petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a stark contrast to the harsh, grey stone of King’s Landing, and you couldn’t help but pause, your breath catching in your throat as you took it all in. None of these walls are stained by hatred. How strange this all is.

Life, which had once felt so rigid and colorless, suddenly seemed full of possibility. The villas, painted in shades of orange, red, and gold, stood proudly against the sunlit sky, their terracotta roofs blending with the desert landscape. Everything felt so alive, bursting with color. The black-and-white certainty that had governed your thoughts for so long seemed to dissolve under the warmth of the Dornish sun.

The servants welcomed you and Oberyn with gracious bows and smiles. You felt a bit stiff, your body hesitant and unsure in the face of such warmth. You weren’t used to this—being at the center of attention. The greetings felt too much, the eyes on you too kind, and your fingers twitched nervously at your sides as you forced a small smile. The heat, blistering and unrelenting, pressed against your skin, a far cry from the cooler climate of the North. You tugged at the sleeves of your long gown, grateful for the cover. The thought of your scars made your stomach turn. It wasn’t your discomfort you feared, but their own. You weren’t ready to expose that part of yourself, not yet.

Oberyn seemed to sense your unease. He reached for your hand as he led you through the gardens toward the palace. “Dorne welcomes you,” he said softly, his voice a balm to your nerves. “There is no need for hesitation here. You are among friends.”

Ahead, on a shaded terrace overlooking the Water Gardens, Prince Doran awaited you. He sat in a grand chair, his posture regal despite the illness that clearly weighed on him. Beside him stood Areo Hotah, his loyal captain, ever watchful with his towering figure and unyielding gaze.

Oberyn introduced you, his voice full of pride as he presented you to his elder brother. “This is the one I spoke of,” Oberyn said, his eyes flicking to you with a tender smile. “She has traveled far to be here, and Dorne will be better for her presence.”

You stepped forward, ready to bow in respect, but Oberyn’s hand shot out, gently stopping you. “We don’t bow in Dorne,” he whispered with a chuckle, leaning in close. “Not unless you want to draw more attention to yourself.”

Your face heated up immediately, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Oh,” you murmured softly, feeling the eyes of both princes on you.

Prince Doran, however, only smiled warmly. “No need to worry,” he said kindly, his voice gentle despite the weariness in it. “We are not as formal as they are in the North. How was your journey?”

You composed yourself, offering a small, grateful smile. “The journey went well, Your Grace. Thank you for allowing me to come to Dorne… I only hope to be of use. I can work—”

“No,” Doran interrupted softly but firmly, shaking his head. “You have been through more than anyone should. You will not serve us. For the rest of your days, you will be treated with the respect you deserve. You will live here, in the palace, as one of our own.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but there was a heaviness that lingered in your chest. The kindness overwhelmed you. It felt like too much, like you didn’t deserve it. You glanced at Oberyn, who gave you a reassuring nod, his hand brushing against your arm in silent support.

You mustered a sad smile, trying to push away the guilt. “Thank you, Your Grace. Princess Elia… she was always so kind to me. I remember her laughter, her warmth… she made everything brighter, even when the world was falling apart.” The memory of Elia’s voice rang in your ears, and your chest tightened.

Doran’s eyes filled with unshed tears at the mention of his sister, and his voice trembled as he replied, “Thank you for remembering her.” He took a breath, blinking back his sorrow. “It is a gift that you survived.”

The guilt washed over you again, an unwelcome tide. Survived. Sometimes you wondered why you had been spared when so many others had fallen. But there was no room for that thought now—not here.

Doran’s voice, steady once more, broke the silence. “We will provide you with everything you need—clothing, food, whatever it is. I’m sure the Northern attire will be quite stifling in our heat.”

You nodded, uncertain. The thought of changing into Dornish clothing, so light and revealing compared to what you were used to, made you uneasy. You would have to speak to Oberyn about it later, perhaps when you were alone, away from the formalities of the palace.

Just then, a woman approached you, bowing slightly. “I am your lady-in-waiting, my lady,” she said with a smile. “My name is Mirra.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, still adjusting to the sudden rush of new faces and titles. Before you could say anything, Oberyn turned to you, his grin full of mischief. “I have some matters to discuss with my brother,” he said, his hand slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. “But do not worry. I will make sure to join you for dinner later.” His eyes gleamed with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—right there, in front of Doran and Areo Hotah.

The warmth of his lips, the unexpected display of affection, left you completely caught off guard. Your body heated from head to toe, your thoughts spinning. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the ease with which he did it, without a care for who was watching. You caught your breath as he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at your stunned reaction.

Doran merely chuckled softly from his chair, while you stood frozen in place, your heart racing. As Oberyn walked away, you realized one thing with absolute certainty: life in Dorne would be unlike anything you had ever known.

Mirra led you through the winding halls of the palace, her steps light and graceful, as if she had walked these paths her entire life. When she stopped before a large wooden door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in your chest. With a quiet smile, she pushed it open, revealing the grand quarters that would now be yours.

The room was breathtaking. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The bedroom was vast, far larger than anything you’d ever had before. A massive bed, draped in fine silks and adorned with pillows, took up the center of the room, its grand frame intricately carved with symbols of the sun and moon. The sheets were a deep, luxurious red, and you could already imagine how soft they would feel against your skin.

The walls were lined with vibrant tapestries, each telling stories of Dorne’s rich history, and the floor was covered in plush rugs that felt like clouds underfoot. A small table stood by the window, and on it, a pitcher of cool water with fresh fruit beside it, waiting for your return from the heat. Everything about this room spoke of comfort, of care, and luxury—things that had once felt so distant to you.

Mirra gestured toward a small chest at the foot of the bed. “They’ll bring your belongings soon, but for now, these were laid out for you.” She approached the chest and opened it, revealing several beautiful dresses, each more exquisite than the last. “Prince Oberyn thought you might like them. They’re light, perfect for our weather here in Dorne.”

You approached the chest cautiously, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dresses. They were stunning—light, flowing pieces with intricate embroidery. Each was adorned with suns, crafted in gold thread that shimmered in the light. The colors were bold—reds, oranges, deep purples—celebrating the warmth of the Dornish sun. But as you lifted one of the gowns, your heart skipped. They were sleeveless, with daring necklines, designed to expose more skin than you were comfortable with.

You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric, feeling its softness. The dresses were stunning, yet the thought of wearing something so revealing made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the scars—they didn’t bother you, nor did the thought of people looking or asking questions. Those wounds had healed long ago, and their marks no longer held power over you. But here, in this new world of sun and beauty, the weight of something else pressed down on you.

It was the fear of embarrassing Oberyn. Standing beside him, so strong and proud, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, you might not belong here.

But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after Oberyn had gone out of his way to choose something for you. You swallowed your discomfort, forcing a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

Mirra watched you carefully, her kind eyes noticing your hesitation. “Prince Oberyn mentioned you two would be sharing these quarters,” she said gently, her voice soft. “But he also said that if you’re uncomfortable, he’d be more than khappy to stay in another room.”

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze. Sharing a room with Oberyn? The idea made your mind race. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of intimacy, not yet. The thought of sharing such close quarters with him both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not after everything you’d both been through. Not after all the kindness he’d shown you. 

“It’s… fine,” you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

Mirra nodded with understanding, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I’ll have a bath drawn for you,” she said, moving toward the door. “I imagine the journey was rough. I’ll return shortly to fetch you.”

Left alone, you wandered to the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens. The doors were already open, and as you stepped out, the warmth of the afternoon sun kissed your skin. The view before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The sprawling gardens stretched out below, filled with vibrant colors of the season. In the distance, you could see the faint outline of Sunspear’s city walls, the rooftops glistening in the sun.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with hues of pink, orange, and gold. The colors blended together, washing over the landscape in a way that made everything feel serene, almost otherworldly. For the first time in what felt like years, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, the tension in your shoulders melting away under the warmth of the sun.

Standing there, feeling the soft breeze caress your skin, you closed your eyes and let the moment envelop you. The weight of your past, the pain, and the fear—it was still there, lurking in the corners of your mind. But here, in this moment, it felt distant. You’re no longer there anymore, you told yourself, the words settling over your heart like a protective shield. No matter how much they’ve tried to break you, you’ve survived. You’re not scared of them anymore.

A sense of peace washed over you as you stood on the balcony, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. For the first time in years, it felt like time was moving forward. You were no longer bound to the memories that once weighed you down, no longer trapped in the shadows of what had been. Here in Dorne, with Oberyn by your side, things felt different. You felt different. The world was no longer just black and white—it was bursting with color, vibrant and alive, and you were beginning to learn how to embrace it.

The quiet knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Mirra stepped in, her soft smile welcoming as she said, "My lady, your bath is ready."

You nodded, following her through the grand room. The air was warm, scented with lavender and the faint salt of the sea, and as you stepped into the adjoining bath chamber, you couldn’t help but admire the elegance of it all. The tub was large, carved from marble, with steam rising gently from the water.

Mirra moved to help you undress, her hands reaching for the ties of your gown. But as her fingers brushed your back, you froze, the sudden contact pulling you from the moment. 

“No,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm. “I can take it from here.”

Mirra hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “My lady?”

You offered her a small smile, your hand resting on hers to ease the tension. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

Her gaze lingered on you, a hint of concern in her eyes, but after a moment, she nodded, stepping back with a respectful bow. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once she was gone, you stood for a moment, the room quiet except for the soft lapping of the water in the tub. Slowly, you undressed yourself, feeling the warmth of the bath beckoning you. When you finally stepped in, the water enveloped you, soothing every ache from the long journey.

You sank deeper into the bath, closing your eyes and letting the warmth relax your body. Here, alone, the weight of the world felt lighter. The tension you had carried for so long began to melt away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to simply be.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — EVENING

The evening air was warm as you stepped onto the terrace of the Water Gardens, the scent of citrus trees and the distant sound of trickling water surrounding you. Lanterns, hung delicately along the stone pillars, cast a soft glow over the long table where a simple yet elegant feast was laid out. The sky above was painted in soft shades of twilight, a backdrop of deep purples and golds that felt as if it had been created just for this moment.

Your dress—a light, flowing piece with intricate suns embroidered along the edges—shifted with the breeze, reminding you of the delicate balance between feeling exposed and free. You hadn’t quite made peace with showing so much skin, but here in Dorne, no one seemed to care about scars or imperfections. And for once, it was your own hesitation, not the eyes of others, that left you feeling vulnerable.

Oberyn was already there, seated at the head of the table, his eyes finding yours the moment you appeared. A soft smile tugged at his lips, warmth radiating from him in a way that set you at ease. He rose to greet you, his presence commanding yet intimate, making the vast expanse of the terrace feel smaller, more personal.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of charm and sincerity. He reached for your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Though I’m certain the gardens pale in comparison.”

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. “I’m not sure I can compete with all this,” you gestured to the beauty surrounding you—the elegant table, the vibrant colors of the Water Gardens, the night sky overhead. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pulled out a chair for you. “Then let’s make sure the dream is one you never want to wake from.”

As you sat, servants moved gracefully around you, pouring wine into delicate goblets and laying out platters of fruit, roasted meats, and bread still warm from the oven. You shifted in your seat, trying to absorb the sudden attention, feeling a little out of place despite Oberyn’s calming presence.

“Are you always treated like this?” you asked, glancing at him as one servant filled your cup.

“Only when I’m fortunate enough to be dining with such company,” Oberyn replied, his tone teasing. “Though I have a feeling you’ll soon grow used to the luxuries of Dorne.”

You smiled but couldn’t shake the underlying tension. “I’m not sure I ever will.”

Oberyn leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours. “You don’t have to fit into any mold here. You’re not in King’s Landing anymore. You’re in Dorne, where people live as they are—unapologetically.”

There was something in his gaze that felt reassuring, a reminder that here, with him, you were free from the constraints of the past. You exhaled, the weight of the day lifting slightly from your shoulders.

The conversation between you and Oberyn flowed easily as the evening stretched on. The food was rich, the wine sweeter than anything you’d had in King’s Landing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, the simplicity of being in Oberyn’s company felt like the real gift. He spoke of Dorne with pride, recounting stories of its history, its people, and the beauty that stretched beyond the Water Gardens to the deserts and mountains.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his hand resting over yours, “I’ll take you to Sunspear. There is more for you to see, more than even the Water Gardens can offer.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with anticipation. “I look forward to it.”

As the night grew darker, and the lanterns flickered softly in the breeze, Oberyn leaned closer. “And tonight,” he whispered, “I’m just glad we’re finally here. Together.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you at his words. No matter the uncertainty of what lay ahead, tonight felt like the start of something new—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined, just lived.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — LATE NIGHT

The walk to your chambers felt surreal, the weight of the evening's intimacy lingering in the air between you and Oberyn. The stars above cast a silver glow on the winding paths of the Water Gardens, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. Each step brought you closer to the privacy of your shared quarters, and with it, the quiet flutter of nerves began to stir in your stomach.

You’d been in his presence for hours now, sharing a meal, stories, and laughter, yet the intimacy of entering a room together felt like crossing an invisible threshold. This was the moment where things might shift, where you couldn’t help but wonder if something was expected tonight.

As Oberyn opened the door to your chambers, the room beyond was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. A massive bed with heavy, luxurious fabrics dominated the space, framed by stone walls adorned with intricate Dornish tapestries. The soft light of candles flickered across the room, casting warm, golden hues over everything. It was beautiful, intimate, a room meant for lovers.

Your heart raced as you stepped inside, your thoughts swirling as you tried to steady yourself. Oberyn, sensing your hesitation, moved behind you, his presence a steadying force. His fingers brushed your arm gently, grounding you in the moment.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting.

You turned to face him, biting your lip as your gaze met his. “It’s just... I know you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I don’t want to... disappoint you.”

Oberyn’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression softened. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Disappoint me?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “Do you truly believe that?”

You shrugged, feeling a little foolish now, but the thought had gnawed at you since the moment you’d entered the room. “You’ve always been... free. With others. I just—what if I’m not ready tonight? Will you... find your needs somewhere else?”

A small smile curved his lips, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “I won’t lie to you,” he began, his voice a murmur, “I’ve lived my life enjoying pleasure wherever it could be found. But you...” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “With you, I am content to wait. Because when it happens, it will be passionate, raw, and it will be worth every second of restraint.”

His words were like a soothing balm to your nerves, each one sinking into you, wrapping around your fears and quieting them. There was no pressure, no expectation—only the promise of something real, something deeper than just the physical.

“I don’t want you to do anything until you’re ready,” he continued, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “Your consent is more important to me than anything. And if tonight is just us, here in this bed, holding each other, that is more than enough.”

You exhaled, a wave of relief washing over you. “I’ve never been with anyone like you,” you confessed quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oberyn chuckled softly, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close. “That’s because there is no one like me,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and soft against your skin, and you leaned into him, feeling the tension leave your body.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “But I promise you this—no matter how long it takes, no matter when you’re ready, I will wait for you. And when that moment comes, it will be ours.”

His sincerity left you breathless. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. Oberyn responded instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. His hand cradled the back of your head, deepening the kiss just enough to remind you of the passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior, but never pushing, never demanding more than what you offered.

You pulled back, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. “There is no need to thank me,” he murmured against your lips. “I told you, you’re in Dorne now. We take our time with everything worth savoring.”

A warmth bloomed inside you, a sense of peace and safety in his arms. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Oberyn whispered, guiding you toward the bed. He pulled back the heavy covers, and you slipped beneath them, the cool fabric against your skin a welcome contrast to the heat that still lingered between you. He joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your back was pressed to his chest, his body a comforting shield around you.

The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was the sound of Oberyn’s steady breathing and the warmth of his lips as he pressed one final kiss to your shoulder.

There's nothing that needs to happen tonight. You were exactly where you were meant to be.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[brevityisnotmywit]

Waiting For The Worms

Rabid Pneumonia: Also known as Tar Lung, or Wet Lung. A respiratory disease that eventually attacks the brain of its host, driving them to violence.

The pandemic has been ravaging Equestria for five months...Twilight is running out of time.

(Content Warnings: Zombie AU, Gore, Major Character Death, Disease.)

Five months have passed since the initial outbreak.

One hundred and fifty three long days of fear and mourning.

Two hundred twenty thousand three hundred twenty minutes of desperate attempts to combat this sickness.

It took a few weeks before Twilight had identified the reason they had so much trouble containing the disease. It was something so universal, so basic…something no one could live without.

Water. This damned plague spread through fresh water. True, a bite from an infected creature would transfer it, but its main method of transmission was something every living thing required. It wasn’t even like the princess had meant to discover this. No, she had gone to refill the coolant tanks for her lab when she noticed it.

Some poor filly, lost in the pain of the sickness, had dragged her broken body to the banks of the river. This puzzled Twilight. By this point, it was clear that the little pony was in the final stages of Rabid Pneumonia. She would have been suffering from hydrophobia, surely. And yet here she was, gagging on the black bile flooding her lungs. After many long moments, the pathetic creature hurls herself into the stream, startling Twilight.

Of course she was aware of how often they had to fish bodies out of the reservoir. She’d just presumed that it was due to the rainy season washing them downhill…she had a new panel to run.

After that, they tasked the pegasi and dragons with getting the word out. All water had to be boiled and filtered before drinking. It helped, but not nearly enough.

Month two is when they had to accept that magic wouldn’t fix this. The four princesses had called upon Discord to work towards a spell to address this. Between the five of them, there was nothing they couldn’t do…or so they thought.

Tar Lung could bounce back from anything they cast.

Discord was particularly stunned by this. He certainly wasn’t used to putting in effort to get what he wanted. By the time it was clear that they would have to resort to modern medicine, the draconequus seemed to fall into a depressive episode. He’d blipped away, presumably to the fortified home he had built for Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. The latter had moved in after she’d lost her husband and their daughter…

Shortly after that, Cadence had heard of the illness reaching the Crystal Kingdom. She rushed home, only to report that she would be unable to leave her people. A week later, Twilight received the news that her brother had contracted it.

She scowled, and shook her head. If her magic didn’t help, that was fine. Twilight never let herself lose sight of the practical side of her studies. She was particularly skilled in chemistry. So she called upon anyone experienced in medicine. Earth ponies, Pegasi, Unicorns, Kirin, Zebras, if you knew your way around a lab, you were invited.

Zecora had been a big help to their cause. She had convinced a few buffalo to join her, one of which was Little Strongheart’s daughter. The zebra made it clear that Twilight was to show the utmost respect to all who answered her summons. If the princess didn’t understand traditional methods, that didn’t mean they had no merit.

The implied accusation stung, but Twilight understood why Zecora made it. She’d definitely had moments of dismissing science she considered primitive.

As it would turn out, some of the biggest advances the team made began with the group helmed by the zebra. Their deep knowledge of the local ecosystem had resulted in significant breakthroughs. They hit a snag when the disease mutated again. The first documented jump was to the local population of timber wolves. They hadn’t anticipated it would be able to spread to plants…

Ink Rot meant a whole different threat.

Applejack wasted no time in assembling a crew to figure out why their crops had begun to die. Clearly it was related to the pandemic, but how? Tar Lung started as a respiratory disease, it shouldn’t impact this.

And yet, here they were.

Thankfully Ink Rot didn’t seem to be able to transmit to animals. At least, not like the virus could. It definitely could make you sick if you consumed too much contaminated matter. But it just resulted in something akin to food poisoning. The biggest danger was how it weakened the immune system.

Anyone recovering from Ink Toxicity was significantly more likely to contract Tar Lung. Even if they took every possible precaution. The sickness was getting stronger every passing moment.

Applejack was the one that suggested rain was no longer safe. After the outbreak, Cloudsdale had allowed the weather to self-regulate. They would do their best to prevent natural disasters, but their numbers had been falling to the virus at a significant rate.

As the storms rolled through, cases would skyrocket. Out of frustration, Applejack lamented that the petrichor smelled sour. Of course. Of course it was the rain. They couldn’t possibly boil every lake in the world.

The timber wolves had started to reach the final stages, so they would likely be drowning themselves like the previous carriers. Zecora had guessed that Ink Rot stemmed from their decaying branches.

Twilight issues a command to have Cloudsdale evacuated. She finds some comfort in the knowledge that Dash wasn’t around to see her home in this state…wherever she was. The princess tried not to dwell on her fallen friends. They both would just tell her to keep working on the cure.

A few days after the fall of the pegasi kingdom, Zecora caught it. The moment the acidic bile began to seep from her snout, she walked into a holding cell. She reassured Twilight from her glass cage that everything would make sense soon. The alicorn had everything she needed to save the world.

It was a rough few weeks, watching one of her most valuable teammates collapse under the strain of the sickness. Watching as it reached her brain, being forced to hear the zebra rip at her burning chest. The wet choking echoing off the walls…Twilight cried herself to sleep regularly.

She was failing her community. She was running out of time.

Which brings us to now. 

Five months.

One hundred and fifty three days.

Two hundred twenty thousand three hundred twenty minutes.

A brilliant flash blinds the princess. She scrubs at her eyes, squinting against the light. She’s surprised at who stands before her. The lord of chaos himself. Discord had returned. He looks exhausted. His thin mane had grown out, forming mats that swung heavily as he offered a half-hearted bow. His mismatched eyes were haunted…something was wrong.

“Discord?” Twilight asks softly, not wanting to startle him. The lab had too many delicate items to risk him bolting on her. “...What happened?”

It was clear from his expression that he anticipated the question. The draconequus knew she was a clever one. She saw right through him. As per usual. His voice is rough, as though he’d been screaming for hours.

“Observant as always, princess .” He spits out her title like the word is rotten on his tongue. “I take it you’re not getting anywhere?”

The jab digs into her spirit like an arrow. Twilight’s wings lift subtly, making her appear bigger. “We’ve made significant progress towards a cure. We’ll have our vaccine by the end of the year.” She snorts, flicking her tail. “Not that you care.”

The air shifts. Discord’s form distorts, chaos magic leaking out. The princess catches a glimpse of his true appearance. A twisting fractal, branching out into impossible angles and planes. He snarls, teeth rotating and multiplying endlessly. After a very tense moment, he reels his power in. The window into his reality closes.

The venom in his voice remains. “I resent that accusation.”

Twilight forces herself to stand strong. She was the only one that could fight him if needed. “State your business.” She snaps. “But I’m only going to warn you once. If you do anything to jeopardize our work, I will not hesitate to stop you. Keep that in mind.”

“Oh I’m so frightened, I just might shake myself apart.”

“ Discord .” She takes a step towards him.

“Ugh, you’re still no fun.” He rolls his eyes. Literally. Before Twilight can respond, Discord’s tone becomes serious again. “I’m here to help you.”

“You know none of our magic works against it.” The princess reminds him.

“ Yes . I am distinctly aware of how useless I appear to you.” He folds his arms, his tail flicking with irritation. “This whole thing has gone too far. You need someone that can get you anything in a matter of seconds. I am your obedient servant .”

He punctuates this with another, more dramatic bow.

Something’s happened, Twilight realizes. “Not that I’m going to turn you down but…why are you offering this now? You could have shown up at any moment, you know.”

“They caught it.” Discord states bluntly.

Twilight doesn’t need clarification on who ‘they’ are.

“I couldn’t protect them…I poured everything I had into keeping my-” He pauses, glancing away. “Keeping them safe from this. You know me, I could care less if this world implodes…or at least I did. I’m a selfish creature, it’s in my nature. I’m sure you understand.”

The princess nods, motioning for him to continue.

“...I can’t let them die, Twilight. I might not be able to snap this disease out of existence, but if I can do even the smallest thing to help expedite your work?” Discord meets her eyes, and she can see a hint of his old resolve. “I’ll make it happen. Just say the word…and please, we may be desperate, but let’s not forget our manners, hm?”

A harsh laugh bubbles up from Twilight’s chest. She can’t believe this is what it took to snap Discord from his isolation…actually, yes she can. This was perfectly in character for him.

“Alright. We can discuss details later, right now I need-” She was interrupted by a panicked Spike bursting into the room.

“Hey! Twilight, I’ve got a message from the Castle!” The dragon holds it out, allowing his friend to grab it with her magic.

She unfurls it, expecting a long update. What she does find, however, are three sentences that chill her to the bone.

‘The disease has breached the barrier. The Sisters are no longer with us. Please hurry…”

[katyakurae]

OMG Thank you for liking my art!!! I am very proud of my little nuggests, been team appleradio since day one. I agree, any fic where a deal causes lucifer to be the one in the losing position immediately scrambles my brain, like no way Lucifer is that scared of Al, or desperate for any kind of company that they have him being easily manipulated by Alastor and fall for the deer tricks...Lucy has witnessed his manipulation and threat to his status in Charlie's life, let’s give the devil some credit. Also I am not saying Al is not smart but I don’t see him as this master manipulator everyone wants him to be. He definitely likes to think he is, but in reality Al just spends a lot of time observing people, so he knows how to act around them and manipulate them to do what he wants. Or at least that’s how I see his persona. He works hard for what he craves most and always waits the right moments to attack or use what he has at his disposal to survive, but in the end he is just a silly little guy with so much ego to put shame on the devil himself, who can see through his bullshit miles away lol

So yea what u done with those two is the only way I would have seen a deal between them play out. Alastor was always gonna lose against Lucifer.

Ohh wait I just remembered that one of the reasons Al wasn’t using his shadows to escape Lucy in the last chapters is cause he exhausted his power and wasn’t feeling very well afterwards. Could it be that something happen to him when he ran away from Angel?!?!He hasn’t appeared at all during all that chaos between the two Morningstar and that’s so unlike him. U don’t have to answer ofc, my brain just won’t shut up and I needed to write it somewhere ehehe

Unrelated but I read others storyline u worked on and they way u write just makes me want to read more, the dialogue are so entertaining and the characters are so well written that I don’t even mind using google translate for every few sentences. I have a very poor attention span, but u managed to pique my interest more than once now and I gotta say I am impressed And grateful that my curiosity won the other night. One of my fav scene from one of ur fic, called ‘Embajadores Celestiales’was when Lucy slapped Alastor…like the gasp I let out cause I thought he was gonna hug him or something, that was so funny and also when Alastor confesses to his mother that he lied to her. Couldn’t stop laughing at Al saying he should have told his mum about the people in the fridge and invited her to dinner lmao I love that silly little deer so much!!!

Cannot wait to read more of your work. It was such a pleasure 💜

Yeah, I see your point. I mean, Lucifer is older than time. And yeah, he is clumsy, depressed and a disaster, but I don't see him falling for Alastor's little mind games.

It's like what you said. Alastor is smart and works hard, but he is not the ultimate mastermind. That's an ego thing and, highly probably, a charade to feel safe. In control. I also see him more as an opportunist. When he recognizes a chance, he takes it. And yeah, he may has some kind of plan in the long shot, but it's not enough to rope the literal Devil. And if he tries (I hope he tries) it will end... badly.

(You can tell Alastor is my favourite character cause I want to see him suffer.)

I will not make spoilers u.u buuuut (it's no secret, I just post the new sneak peek) you will see soon in the new chapter. It will be out tomorrow!

Anyway, it really makes me so happy to read your kind words, opinions and coments either in The Deal or in my other works. I hope you keep enjoying it!

Thank you so much! 💜💜💜

Read you soon!

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

I Saw the TV Glow Review (Weirdly, It Works Better Without Subtext)

SPOILER ALERT

ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: Gender Dysphoria, Depression, 90s Television, Kid’s Parties, Rishi Sunak, Skittles (and the repackaging thereof), Unaliving Oneself onstage with a Prop, Ontological Dread and Birds Flying Into Windows.

So, there’s a bit of a buzz about I Saw the TV Glow in cult cinephile circles, and I’m a bit glad about that because it’s a genuinely interesting film and we don’t see genuinely interesting films get the attention they deserve very often. Note, however, that I said “attention” not “praise”. That’ll be important later. So… why is everyone talking about this film (and by ‘everyone’, I mean ‘like, maybe, me and eight other snooty movie weirdos’)? Well, we’ll get there, but first let me lay out the plot for you: protagonist Owen is a socially-awkward, doesn’t-fit-in-anywhere boy right out of the mumblecore ‘90s Indie Cinema Playbook and, during his middle-school years, he befriends a lass called Maddy (though ‘befriends’ might be wrong word for the weird codependence they strike up) and she introduces him to a show called The Pink Opaque: a dark, disturbing, supernaturally-inflected TV show about two psychic friends who fight ‘Mr. Melancholy’ (a sinister occult psychopath with a moon for a face- just go with it). Ostensibly, The Pink Opaque is meant to be for kids, but from the beginning, there’s something very obviously not quite right about it. Weirder still, when Maddy disappears in a doomed bid to find herself, the show gets cancelled, almost as if it was a part of her. Fast-forward, via a few narrative leaps and bounds, to Owen’s adulthood and Maddy reappears, claiming to have been inside the show, which is actually reality. She and Owen, she asserts, are the main characters from the programme and Mr. Melancholy has sent their minds to the ‘Midnight Realm’ of their present, false reality. In order to escape, they need to bury themselves alive, because that’s what’s happening to their real bodies and it’ll reestablish the connection (I’m adding the technobabble, by the way: the phrasing in the movie is nowhere near that logical or concise). Spoiler alert: Maddy does this and then vanishes from the plot, Owen doesn’t and we see him grow old, trapped in his own personal suburban nightmare… right up until the end of the film, where we see him leaving his place of work in a manner very open to interpretation. Is he finally about to wise up and go bury himself in order to emerge renewed, or is he just going home for a cuppa, a biscuit and a long overdue review of his mental health medication?

Now, clearly, all that sounds like a real fucking trip of a movie, but that’s not why it’s generating buzz. See, Maddy believes that she and Owen are the two main characters from The Pink Opaque, but both of those characters are female. Owen, as you can tell from the fact he’s called Owen, is not. Thus, the flick has been interpreted as a metaphor for gender dysphoria and the process of transitioning/ the decision not to. There’s a lot of allusions to Owen feeling like there’s something wrong with him (on one level reality) and feeling like he’s being buried alive and is dying while, er, that’s literally what’s happening to his meta-self on the Pink Opaque level of reality. There’s a bit where he has a break-down at a kid’s party and screams “HELP ME! I’M LITERALLY DYING RIGHT NOW!” Although, in fairness, kids’ parties make me feel like that too and I’m not even remotely trans. The point is, it’s a film with a big, fat, capital-I Issue at its centre, which has given people a license to enjoy it despite the fact it’s weird, schlocky, neon-doused pulp of the highest order. And, fair play to people suffering with gender dysphoria, if this film really speaks to you, you go right the fuck ahead and enjoy it on that level. But (and here I’m about to piss off the entire internet), I actually think it works a lot better if you just take it completely fucking literally. Like, forget the metaphorical nonsense and focus on the actual plot and it instantly becomes one of the best and most upsetting horror films of the last five years. Try and draw real-life parallels, however, and it starts to seem a bit overwrought and melodramatic.

Right. Time to try and explain what I mean without upsetting anyone more than I already have (please don’t send me hate-mail: I don’t read it and you’ll just give yourself carpal tunnel syndrome, which, trust me, is a bitch). It’s pretty obvious that there’s something wrong with the world Owen and Maddy inhabit from the get-go. The school they go to as sprogs is called Void High School, which (aside from having the initials VHS) is also just NOT A REAL NAME FOR A PLACE, and it has really creepy, weird text on its message boards in place of the usual papers and kids drawings (one strip that caught my eye, rendered in stark black-on-yellow font, simply reads ‘PAIN IS WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY’). There’s a supermarket that just seems like a giant, sprawling liminal space devoid of people. Characters from The Pink Opaque show-within-a-film get referenced in places that have nothing to do with the show. Daytime, though it never vanishes altogether, seems to become less and less frequent as though the characters are sinking into the deepening night of impending death. Characters who should be key to the protagonists formative years have no dialogue at all, as though they’re just set dressing in a shared delusion. The lore of The Pink Opaque shifts, so that the characters memories cease to align with the show itself, just (it seems) to fuck with them. And, creepiest of all, Owen has to continually narrate his own life straight to camera, like he might forget who and what he is and come unmoored from reality if he doesn’t constantly tell the story. As the clues stack up and the evidence becomes more and more incontrovertible, the realisation slowly dawns: this is not madness. This is not too mixed-up kids bonding over a crappy horror show on TV. This is the story of a person condemned to a slow, humiliating false life by a vengeful cosmic entity while their real body dies in a freshly-dug grave on another level of reality. In that context, the existence of the show The Pink Opaque, is their oxygen-deprived brain trying to warn them to get up! GET UP NOW! YOU ARE DYING! GET UP! And that’s genuinely terrifying. “What if reality isn’t reality?” is already one of the most disturbing questions you can ask yourself. Add to that the questions of “Who is perpetrating reality against you?”, “Why are they doing?” and “What if the real me is dying while this happens?” and you’ve got some pure, solipsistic, philosophical nightmare fuel to keep you up at night!

The gender dysphoria interpretation, in contrast, is probably the intended interpretation, but if you focus too much on that, it makes the whole thing feel a bit, well… silly. Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure gender dysphoria is very, very unpleasant. I’m sure being trapped in the wrong body and not knowing how to express the all-pervading feeling of wrongness is one of the most traumatic things a human being can go through. However, none of the trans people I know in real life have ever collapsed onto the floor in their place of work to scream “I’M LITERALLY DYING RIGHT NOW!” (although my sort-of-adopted trans daughter did once call me after a night of heavy drinking to claim “I’m sober now! I’m just putting these skittles back in their packet!” like it was the dexterity-challenge of the century and somehow proved something. That has nothing to do with this review, I just thought it was funny and that you’d like to know it happened). Nor, to the best of my knowledge, has burying oneself alive and popping back up out of the dirt like a jack-in-the-box ever been considered a useful, therapeutic part of the gender reassignment process. Meanwhile, Owen’s life isn’t just a bit constricting and mediocre, it’s downright oppressive, devoid of even the most fleeting moments of joy, and his only meaningful emotional connection is with someone who fucks off for a decade at a time and reappears claiming to have been living inside a TV show. Nobody could be that miserable all the time, even if they tried. Think about how long human beings live: the number of years and the number of days in each year and the number of hours in each day and the number of minutes in each hour. At the very least, at some point in all that, you’d accidentally catch a Monty Python rerun or see a bird fly into a window and then try and strut off like nothing happened and then… Whoops! You’re laughing like a fucking idiot and your perfect record of being resolutely unhappy is completely fucking ruined, you loser. My point is that, as a metaphor, I Saw the TV Glow feels a little hammy: like an actor beating his chest and wailing to express grief, possibly before committing fake-sepuku with a very obviously cardboard knife. But if you forget it’s a metaphor and remember that Owen’s life is so unremittingly miserable because it was created to be unremittingly miserable by a cosmic entity of terrifying malevolence and power, suddenly it all makes sense… and scares you badly enough to keep you up all night worrying that maybe we’re all trapped by Mr. Melancholy… or Prime Minister Rishi Sunak as we call him here in the dystopian wasteland that used to be Great Britain.

Anyway, I recommend I Saw the TV Glow. It’s stylish, weird, quite clever (though not as clever as it clearly thinks it is) and, frankly, some of the visuals have to be seen to be believed (the monster of the week made of melting ice-cream, for example, is the kind of thing that you’d normally have to neck quite a lot of absinth to see, but the film-makers have brought it to life here so that you don’t have to and, consequently, your liver won’t start to hate you like an abused spouse).

[sillyrabbit81]

I al obsessed with your story ‘Even If You Don’t Mean It’! No shade to the many writers on here but it’s been a while for me to find a story that I can dig my teeth in - where character development, setting and story pace is great and you succeed in all of this! Thank you for this gift ha ha - hope to see more stories featuring Sy (new love unlocked lol) and all of Henry’s characters because you’re a phenomenal writer ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi

Thank you very much for your lovely words. I'm so glad you enjoyed that story and that you thought it was well written.

I have written A LOT of Syverson a couple of series and a lot of one shots. Here is a link to my Syverson masterlist.

There are a lot of great Sy series out there from other writers, here are a few I can think of right now:

@just-chirpin Eyes That See Your life consists of caring for others. This is a story of you learning to care for yourself.

@thesaucynomad No Morals It’s a continuing series of episodic parts centred around Sy, after getting out of the army.  It’s gonna contain graphic spice here and there as the timeline progresses.

@mayloma Of Investments and Returns Due to global economic troubles, Sy was forced to sell most of his company's shares to investors. Much to his displeasure, the investors commissioned a business consultancy to check the company for potential savings and optimization. Dahlia Lewis is one of the unwelcome visitors. And she will soon begin to get under his skin in a different way.

@invisibleanonymousmonsters Syverson After Y/N’s job declares that employees may continue working remote for as long as they want, she wonders if this is sign from the universe to take a break from New York City. When her crazy cousin finds out, she begs Y/N to spend a year with her in Texas. For some crazy reason, Y/N agrees. A true city girl and a northerner, Y/N immediately feels like a fish out of water in the south. And her cousin’s friends enjoy teasing her for all their differences – especially a certain Ethan Syverson.

@peternoonewantsthat Shug and Sy series Masterlist An ongoing series of oneshots following the everyday life of Captain Syverson and his family.

@rmtndew Where Kindness Grows The Great Depression took its toll on a lot of people and some had to get creative to survive. Seraphina’s father decides his solution is to sell his only daughter to a much older man. But when Sy overhears a conversation about the young woman, he makes a decision that will change his life - and Seraphina’s - forever.

@angryschnauzer As Sweet As Honey Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

@poledancingdinos Girls Night Out

@littlefreya Lines In The Sand She is one of the best snipers serving in Iraq, but she is also suffering from an attitude problem and ironically has a hard time following orders. After an incident in her former base, she is sent to join the Special Forces unit led by Captain Syverson, who requires a talented sniper. Unlucky for her, Captain Syverson is a hard man who likes things by the book and according to order. He ain’t got the patience for troublemakers.

@winter2112rose A Captain and his Cowgirl A series of one -shot stories about how one meeting on a night out, changes the life of a young solider, Travis ‘Sy’ Syverson, forever. Giving him the one thing he’s always dreamed of, a family. The stories are in the correct chronological timeline. 

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether Kissed By Fire Petra’s small art studio takes fire and a beefy cocky soldier-turned-firefighter is among the responding fire crew members. The acquaintance wouldn’t be long-lived but Lieutenant Syverson accidentally👀 takes something that belongs to her.

@viking-raider Southern Generation After more than a decade of service, Captain Syverson as retired from the military, but now that he is retired, he still needs to find a job.

Feel free to add anymore to this list!

❤️ Rabbit

[everythinglucymaudmontgomery]

A Few Words in Defense of Poor Robin and the Time She Was Living In

It's been really interesting to read everyone's vitriol regarding poor Robin. I remember reading this book through at least twice before and never thinking of Robin as anything other than a fellow prisoner of Jane's. Is she a good mother, by no means, but I've always felt that she's doing the best that she can under the circumstances.

I think that her life is a literal living hell. She has a husband across country that she desperately loves but most likely thinks despises her because I KNOW she despises herself. She is forced to be a social butterfly by her mother and she can't even express her emotions by crying at night in her own room because her mother will be able to tell and will find some new creative way to torture her and, by extension, Jane. Her daughter whom she loves fiercely, evidently looks just like her father and is a constant reminder of what she lost/threw away. She is playing a part in a horrific nightmarish play just to survive because she doesn't know what else to do. At that time, and under those circumstances, I don't doubt that she sees living with her mother's horribleness is her best option for providing for Jane. I can't imagine how many times she has most likely visualized running away with Jane by herself but most likely is more afraid of the two of them starving to death and NO mother ever wants to remotely consider that option.

I'm also pretty sure that the time frame for this book is sometime in the 20s/30s. According to the website for the Canadian Museum of History, Canada was among the most profoundly affected countries. So add that to Robin's fears for their livelihood.

And please let's not forget that, for all of Robin's faults, Jane does not doubt that her mother loves her. I have more to say in defense of her and Jane and their secret ways of expressing love but since I don't want to give away any spoilers to those who haven't read it yet, I will refrain.

Another thing that I have found is very interesting about how Maud wrote both "The Blue Castle" and "Jane of Lantern Hill" is that she writes more strictly from one point of view. As common as that is in many books, one thing I always liked about the Anne books was that you got all of these wonderful insights into the minds of other characters. I have seen it a precious few times so far in Lantern Hill.

The reason I point this out is that most of how we are seeing Jane's life play out is from the perspective of an 11 year old. Don't get me wrong, a very perceptive (at times) and wise beyond her years, 11 year old, but an 11 year old, none the less. They are not known to be the most broad minded of people and have a tendency to color the world with a narrowness that can alter reality to some extent. We do have to take a lot of her experiences and outlooks with a grain of salt giving others the benefit of the doubt at least.

I have often found it very difficult bordering on impossible to read books from other time frames without being influenced by the modern sensibilities and customs I am used to. For example, how could Cinderella's stepmother get away with taking her own house away from her after her father died and treating her like a slave? Oh wait. This was not the 21st century, orphans were not looked at the same. In fact, most people looked at orphans as if it was THEIR own fault that they were orphans, like losing your parents makes you a bad person and not worth time or pity.

Am I excusing Robin's behavior? As a mother, NO. Do I think the grandmother should be excused. HEAVENS NO! But I do try to put myself in their shoes as much as I can and remember that this was a different time and place. Not to mention, as a sufferer of mental health issues and knowing that that was something that was not touched with a ten foot pole back then and good lord knows what genetic predisposition they had in that regards on top of living through WW1 and the Great Depression AND the Spanish Flu Pandemic!!!!

Anyway, I hope this makes some semblance of sense to my dear fellow lovers of L.M.M. It's been so interesting and enlightening getting to hear the different thoughts and outlooks from fresh readers of this little known but wonderful book.

[lightwise]

Ahsoka's Choice

(Content warnings: long post, implied depression and wanting to give up on life, mention of suicide prevention week). 

Life is not supposed to be a battle. I genuinely believe that it is not meant to be lived in survival mode, or be something to dread, or feel like a Sisyphean hamster wheel, climbing the same mountain over and over but going nowhere. 

And yet. 

It so often does. 

The good becomes so entwined with the bad that you can’t separate them anymore. 

Or even see any good at all.

Life is lived by placing one foot in front of the other, but our gaze is meant to be forward, not only down. 

There have been a number of excellent takes on the in-universe meaning behind the Clone Wars flashbacks, Anakin’s lessons, and Ahsoka’s choice in Shadow Warrior. How Ahsoka has been keeping herself small, living in survival mode, haunted by the fear of her past, by what Anakin became, by her fears of becoming that herself or inadvertently leading others down that path, by survivor’s guilt, by the inability to move forward.  (Please check out the excellent analyses below):

Anakin and Ahsoka learning to fight for the light

Recovering from PTSD and trauma and not letting the terrible things win 

Overcoming the legacy of war and death

Running from childhood trauma

Ahsoka choosing to live 

Ahsoka remembering who she is

However, without getting too detailed, I want to take a more metaphorical look at this episode and how it struck me personally.

My tagline is Daughter of Light. Ahsoka has been an extremely meaningful character to me since I first fell in love with Clone Wars several years ago, for her determination, her steadfast dedication to justice and kindness, and her strength in forging her own path in the midst of many difficult and undeserved circumstances. And this episode knocked me back in my chair, mouth open, trying not to cry at those four words: I choose to live.

The last few years have had some unique struggles in my life that have felt relentless at times, worn me down mentally and emotionally, and kept me in a state of difficult striving just to stay afloat on all fronts (financial, health, mental, etc.) I have honestly not wanted to stay afloat at points. And I’m still dealing with many of the effects of some of what I’ve been dealing with. 

(I am fine in this moment, btw. This post is reflective of where I have been, and some of what I have felt. So please don’t worry about me if you read this, it is meant to be encouraging more than anything. But I am acknowledging and honoring the struggle that it sometimes takes to exist and keep going when life is difficult or doesn’t turn out the way you expected, or is simply just too hard and too exhausting for a bit too long. It is also suicide prevention week, and therefore extremely timely for this episode coming out). 

“You lost a fight. Trust me, you lost.” - You can’t mince the reality of the situation, or pretend it’s better than it is, or that it doesn’t exist at all.

“So you do remember. That’s good, that means you still have a chance to live.” 

“Tell me what’s going on.” - She wants answers. She wants to understand what is happening to her so that she can know how to face it, so that it can be dealt with quickly. 

“I’m here to finish your training.”   

“It’s a little late for that.” - Where were you when I needed you. If only I had known what I know now a little sooner. All of this could have been prevented, things could have gone differently. 

“One is never too old to learn, Snips.” 

“What’s the lesson, Master.” - Alright, I guess we’re doing this. 

“Live…or die.”   

Choosing life—it means literally, and spiritually, and it means a life that is actually filled with wholeness and connection and purpose, not just an existence eked out in survival mode. And as much as I hate it, you have to engage with the pain and the suffering, you have to fight through them, in order to get there. You don’t get out of survival mode by not fighting, even when all you want to do is lay down in defeat.

“I won’t fight you.” 

In a vacuum, this is a decent sentiment. Maintaining one’s peace and refusing to give in to extraneous anger or regret is often a good thing. But that’s not the context here. It’s a negative, passive kind of choice, in this scenario at least. It’s choosing the lack of something, not the positive of something. I won’t fight…but what will you do instead?

All the lessons that Anakin begins taking Ahsoka through, forcing her to engage him, to keep going, to figure out ways to survive even when she doesn’t want to, when the cost feels too great, when her life has been handed to her against her will, is to get through to her the best way he knows how. To break her out of the isolation and defeat she has inhabited. To give her a path forward into momentum and purpose. 

They spar—Ahsoka still with only one saber, half her strength. He pushes her back, and then cuts the ground out from under her feet. And she falls.

“Why are we here?” - Why am I having to learn this lesson again. I thought I had already dealt with this. Why am I having to feel these emotions again. Why do I have to put my time and energy on this same problem again and again.  

“You tell me.”

“I don’t understand.” - She’s still trying to have logical answers before she can move on. We don’t always get them. If you wait for everything to make sense you’ll be waiting forever. 

“That’s your problem. This is your training.” - The casualties of war. Her mistakes. Her failures. Her guilt. Her grief. 

“The battle’s not over yet.” But oh how I sometimes want it to be. 

“This isn’t what I trained for.”  - This isn’t what I expected life to be like. This isn’t what I signed up for. This can’t be what all the effort of daily life adds up to. There has to be a whole greater than the parts. 

“I’m teaching you how to survive, and to do that, you’re going to have to fight.” 

“What if I wanna stop fighting.” - What if it’s not worth it. What if all the effort expended never actually leads anywhere that’s worth being. What if I’m too tired, too depleted to keep going.

“Then you’ll die.” 

“My part of that legacy is one of death and war.” - But what if that’s all there is? What if that’s all my life will ever mean, is struggle and loss and pain. 

“But you’re more than that. Because I’m more than that.” - But I’ve seen and felt horrors larger than life…how do I keep from drowning in them.  

“You’ve learned nothing. Back to the beginning. I gave you a choice. Live or die.” - You can’t stop from drowning in them. You can’t take the struggle out of life. You can’t take the pain out either, or the mistakes. But you can get back up. And you can keep going.  

“No!” - It shouldn’t have to be this way. It shouldn’t have to be this hard. 

“Incorrect.” - But for now, it is. It may not always be. You won’t know until you get there. 

“You lack conviction.” - I’m tired. I’m so tired. I don’t want to have to do this anymore. 

“Time to die.” 

Finally, technically defeated as both of her sabers are wrenched out of her hands, she takes Anakin's Sith blade and uses it against him. There’s a time when the way to get through difficulty is through sheer anger and force of will—I won’t let this thing beat me simply because I’m too mad to let it, I’m too bitter or resentful to stay down any longer…but while that can give you some fuel to get moving, eventually it will keep you stuck in place. 

And then, she tosses it away. And with ferocity and passion and acceptance in her voice:

“I choose to live.”

Living doesn’t mean Ahsoka has to kill the phantom of Vader that still haunts her or continue the cycle of violence. She doesn’t have to fight because that’s the only way to survive. The choice she makes to live, is accepting that living might involve fighting, it might involve pain, it might involve darkness…but that’s part of what makes it life. But it’s not the only part. It will always be so much more than that. So much better than that. The darkness doesn’t get to defeat the light. You get to choose not to let it. 

I choose to live. 

You are not just the bad things that have happened to you. You are more than your traumas and your history and your mistakes and your regrets. You are more than those who came before you. You are more than what has shaped you, dragged you under, torn you apart. Your history is not your identity. Your pain is not who you are. Even when it’s all you can see or feel. Even if it’s all you’ve known, and the life you want always feels out of reach.  

Life shouldn’t be a battle. We shouldn’t always be struggling or barely keeping our heads above water in survival mode. Sometimes letting yourself slip beneath the surface is necessary. You have to surrender to the waves, and accept the reality that more will come, before you can ride them. Just try to breathe in the process. 

Finally, there’s one other thing that brings Ahsoka back to the land of the living. It’s not just her choice alone. It’s other people not giving up on her. Searching for her. Refusing to give up hope. Jacen hearing what is really going on, telling his mom to listen, really listen. Friends working together to pull her out of the ocean. Huyang bringing her a cup of tea and a blanket. She is resuscitated and rehabilitated by others. By her community.

Let’s choose to live. Together. 

Hopefully, we can always make it worth it. 

[thefallennightmare]

I just wanted to come on here and thank both you and @thescarlettvvitch IMMENSELY. I struggle and have struggled for what feels like my entire life, with depression, anxiety, and the list goes on and on… But, Just Pretend means so much to me. It has been my saving grace for the last few months. It’s my safe place and the amount of times that I have gone back and reread the entire thing from start to it’s current chapter, or have even gone back just to reread my favorite chapters and favorite bits, is more then all 10 fingers and toes combined lol. Music has always been something that I turned too and would submerge myself in to take me away from it all and block out all the overbearing things surrounding my brain. But lately, Just Pretend is now what I reach for when I need a place to escape to drown out the noise. Although, it’s Angel and Noah’s world, in a sense, I feel like it’s also my world too. It’s my safe place and I know that if things are feeling a little too overwhelming, I can always open the tumblr app and can count on Noah & Angel to clear my head for a bit, or for hours on end. I cannot put into words or express my gratitude enough to either of you to measure up to how much Just Pretend has helped me through these last few weeks. I absolutely meant it when I said that both of you could be writing novels that sell out and are hard to keep stocked on the book shelves every week at all the book stores. The way you both are able to write these stories and fully encapsulate all the emotions and every single character, no matter how big or small their role in the story is, is absolutely astonishing. I just wanted to leave this in your inbox because I know you both have posted about how this week has been a bit rough for the both of you. But just know, that your work has saved people and granted them happiness and a sense of purpose when they needed it the most. I will always be here to continue coming back to read Just Pretend and drown myself out in Mochi, Angel, and fruit basket citrus sock smearing Jesse’s world. Thank you again, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I cannot wait to see what you both have come up with for the next two chapters.💗 Also, sorry this was so long!🫣

Oh wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

Anon you have rendered me and @thescarlettvvitch speechless.

First off, I want to say you’re not alone. I also suffer from anxiety and depression. It’s not easy. Some days(like this past week) are really hard. So to hear that Just Pretend helps you through yours makes me fall to my knees. I’m so so glad our story can be a positive outlook on life when the darkness seems to pull you under.

My work saved people? Our silly little story about Noah Sebastian saved people? I’m just at a loss for words because we NEVER thought it would be like this. In the best way possible. You guys say it all the time that Just Pretend is the best Noah fic on here but I still don’t believe it. We just thought it would be something fun to do together. We never imagined it would turn into something so magical and life saving.

I truly believe this is what Noah meant in the Rock Sound interview. Bad Omens has brought together so many different people with different backgrounds and who are going through their own struggles and find peace in the things Bad Omens created and what others create for/ because of Bad Omens.

With all the negativity Bad Omens is getting right now, I would love to show them this. Tell them that this is what their music is doing to/for their fans and the people that support them through and through.

But then again, I truly hope Noah never finds this story 😂

Again anon, thank you so fucking much from the bottom of our hearts. You guys don’t understand how comments like this brighten our day and make this whole writing thing fucking worth it. We absolutely love you all.

Thanks for being here. And enjoy the rest of this wild fucking ride that is my blog.