#even if one got sky high persuasion

[pandoratelenor]

I managed to, without a guide, make loghain a companion in my first dragon age origins playthrough

This was not my intention, being my warden was literally a TABRIS,

And then Alistair bounced, and i was like:

"This was not... what i was going for... i just really enjoy using the persuade button when it comes up. What just happened?":

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Ten

Series Masterlist

Cw: Necromancy, torture, slight mention of sa

The dinner had a rather abrupt ending to it after Rhysand mentioned visiting the Bone Carver with Feyre, the Death God was nothing new to Rheana, having read all his tales, but she'd never met him, visited The Prison all but twice to lock up traitors.

She had seen him in passing though, when the curiosity got better of her and she made her way down the prison, in the form of a young female with bright firey hair, light bronze skin, violet eyes, and large Illyrian wings, sitting in the cell, playing with bones. The female looked eerily similar to her, at the same time, she carried a stranger's face.

Rheana took a step closer to the cell, her heart pounding in her chest as she calmed herself down. She could feel the energy radiating off the girl, making her feel both uneasy and strangely drawn towards her at the same time.

But she knew better than to converse with the Carver, so she had left, even still, the thoughts of why he had shown up as that female haunted her, all because it was a question she didn't know the answer to.

The new morning she saw outside on her balcony in the townhouse, a piece of parchment in front of her, an ink pot and the fancy quill she preferred beside her, with some chamomile tea in her hands.

As Rheana sipped her chamomile tea, her mind wandered back to the Bone Carver, and the peculiar sight of him appearing as a young female, it had been years since then, centuries even. She picked up her quill and dipped it into the inkwell, changing her thoughts from the Bone Carver to Tarquin, the High Lord of Summer her brother had asked her to write to.

Rheana, despite the view people had for her Court, was very nicely received among the royal families of other Courts, she spoke in the language people wanted to hear, and read people so well that she knew what they expected without breaking into their minds.

So, the words flew freely, asking Tarquin for a visit to Summer, for herself, Rhysand, Feyre and Amren, spinning a tale of wanting to mend Court relations, after Amarantha had destroyed Prythian, she did feel a visit to other Courts would be important, especially after she had killed Tarquin's mother, an old friend of hers, along with his father for the Summer Court trying to rebel against her.

Rheana knowing full well how persuasive she could be when writing letters, hoped that this one would have the desired effect. Kallos took the chance to jump in her lap in the form of a little kitten she kept them as, purring like one too, but their skin was as scale-like as it had been when she met them. She finished writing her letter, dipping the quill again to sign her name elegantly before placing everything neatly aside, she hovered her hand over the parchment, using her magic to dry the ink.

She held the paper, and folded it thrice before summoning an envelope, setting the letter inside, and sealing it with hot wax and her court's emblem, using the quill she made three stars on the bottom of the envelope with Night Blooms under the stars, her own personal mark for Tarquin to know who it came from.

With the letter sealed and marked, Rheana stood up and walked over to the balcony, gazing out at the city below. She felt a sense of anticipation building within her, wondering what response she might receive from Tarquin. She closed her eyes, letting the warm breeze caress her face, and whispered a silent prayer to the stars, hoping that her efforts would not be in vain.

Kallos appeared on the windowsill and with a wave of Rheana's hand, they turned into a raven, a deep black coat that still had its scaley texture, bigger than most birds, Take this for me. She said in their mind.

Kallos mindlessly picked the letter with their beak and nodded, for you, They then took flight, and Rheana cast a glamour on them to keep them invisible to anyone who looked to the sky.

Rheana watched intently as Kallos took flight, carrying her letter towards its destination. A pang of worry briefly crossed her heart but she quickly banished it, trusting in the strength of her words and her bond with Kallos, they would get the message to Tarquin. She returned to her seat, pouring herself another cup of chamomile tea, she pulled a book from her shelf, settling back comfortably with the intention to pass the time by losing herself in someone else's fantastical world until news arrived.

Rhysand and Feyre returned earlier than Rheana had expected, sensing how upset Feyre was, and told her enough of the fact that they hadn't visited The Prison.

Feyre had said nothing but locked herself in her room, and Rhysand had simply asked Rheana not to try to make her come out, giving her space.

Rheana nodded understandingly, sympathizing with Feyre’s pain. "Of course," she murmured softly, casting a glance towards the door of Feyre’s room. "Give her time." She advised gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Rhysand’s arm. "And you should give yourself some time too. It must be difficult to see your mate hurt."

Rheana could tell from the set of Rhysand's shoulders and the distant look in his eyes that he was indeed struggling too. His emotions were so closely tied to Feyre's, that it was hard for him to remain unaffected when she suffered. Rheana moved away from him slightly, stepping over to the fireplace to stir the embers and add more wood, the crackling flames providing a comforting sound.

Rheana left Rhysand with himself and some of the calming tea she had been drinking, and made her way up the House of Winds, if she had been in a hurry, she would've flown, but for now, she had the time to walk up the spiral staircase to the top.

10,000 stairs may seem daunting to many, but for Rheana, it was a familiar trek, one she often undertook when seeking solitude or clarity. As she climbed, the air grew cooler, the scent of saltwater and seafoam wafting in through the open windows that lined the staircase. By the time she reached the top, her legs were pleasantly tired, and her mind felt refreshed.

She had the House of Winds to herself, Cassian had gone to Illyria to see how the training for the males was going, she herself would be leaving soon to train her females, as she did every morning and afternoon, but she also had business to care for before that with Azriel, who waited for her.

Her thoughts went to the library in the House of Winds, on the new Priestess that had joined them almost a few days ago, when her temple was infiltrated by Hybern soldiers, the soldiers that Azriel had ripped apart with his Siphons and the general that he had beaten till his death.

After a few moments of peace, she took flight into the caves of the mountain the House of Winds was built on, as she stepped past a spell of glamour, the dungeons formed in front of her, muffled cries coming from deep inside, the place was dark, Rheana was sure many bats lived in the cracks and crevices in the caves, which might also be why Azriel always came with a new batch of captured insets every time he visited.

"Azriel?" Rheana called out when she felt a few shadows shifting around her, she knew every knock and cranny of this place, having worked alongside Azriel to contain her power and rage before she found much more suitable ways to manage herself.

She felt the shadows move behind her and she sensed Azriel, who simply moved past her when he knew she felt him, "How nice of you to join me, Rhea, this will be like old times."

Azriel led her to a cell, where a dead body lay, the body of the Hybern general, the only physical thing left of the people who attacked Sangravah, Rhysand had been quite pissed that Azriel had left no one standing to interrogate but after what he had told the siblings, Rhysand hadn't been that mad, and besides, Rheana could make it work.

"Ah, so this is him?" Rheana tutted, her clothes transforming, leather replacing cotton, armour, and Siphons on display, the look of death in her eyes, the male's face was bruised and battered, frozen in a look of terror from when Azriel had unleashed himself upon him, "Doesn't seem too intimidating."

"He looks like someone who picks fights with people who can't fight back." Azriel growled and Rheana rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Hey, why don't I do this alone? You take care of anything else..." Rheana sighed softly, "Perhaps see over the Illyrian females, while I'm busy."

Azriel left with a huff, he'd clearly wanted to see the male suffer, but they needed information more than sadistic pleasure. The second Azriel winnowed away, Rheana exhaled, the room filled with darkness, she looked at the male, tied up to a chair with chains, body slagging in it, covered in cuts and bruises, some received way after he was dead.

Rheana weaved her hand through the dead general's hair, with a sharp inhale, her eyes turned completely black, her skin going paler than the moon as she let go of her darkness and daemati powers, weaving them both together to take control of the dead mind of the general, bringing his body back to life with a gasp of harsh breath the body took, it's eyes dark just like Rheana's were.

The general blinked open his eyes, groaning in pain, staring blankly ahead as though trying to focus on something just beyond reach. Rheana stood before him, her form barely visible amidst the darkness, that swirled around her. She wasn't the dainty princess her father had wanted his daughters to be, clad in warrior leathers, muscles tense from power, biceps flexing from her grip in his hair, nails digging right into his skull, wings flared wide, dark purple Siphons gleaming in the darkness, in front of the general stood The Lady of Darkness, the witch of the dark the Illyrians feared, and the dead general had the right mind to look frightened. She leaned down closer to the male, her voice a low whisper against the silence of the dungeon.

"Speak," She commanded firmly, her eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. "What were you doing in the Sangravah temple? What did you take?"

The general's lips parted, but no words came out at first. He tried to struggle against the restraints holding him in place, but they held firm. Fear shone brightly in his eyes, a stark contrast to the darkness of Rheana's own gaze. But still, he remained silent. Rheana frowned, her grip tightening even more. A curl of her hand sent another surge of energy coursing through the general, forcing him to obey.

"I… I was following orders!" He finally managed to stammer out, voice almost hypnotized, fear making his voice tremble. "We were tasked with finding and retrieving something specific."

"The feet of the Cauldron, that's what missing, there would be no need for it if you didn't have the Cauldron hidden with you." Rheana's eyes shone dark like a starless cold night sky, "Does your king have it?"

The general nodded, his mind in her hands, quite literally, fear etched across his face as he struggled to keep his composure. "Yes… Yes, he does! It's hidden somewhere safe. No one knows its location except for the king and those closest to him!"

"Like you," Rheana smirked like darkness and death herself, her hold on his mind tightening, "So, where?"

The general grimaced, pain shooting through his head as he fought against the compulsion Rheana exerted upon him. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for some kind of escape, but there was none, because he was dead, nothing about him quite alive. "I… I don't know exactly! Only that it is far from here, somewhere secluded and well-guarded," He confessed, desperation creeping into his tone.

"Fine, guard it in your mind, you only can for so long." Rheana hummed, her voice dangerously sweet, "And the young female you assaulted? Was that an order too? Or do you just liked having power over a defenseless female?"

The general paled further, his mind recoiling at the mention of the assault. "It wasn't an order! We… I acted on my own, without permission. I just couldn't resist her, she was so beautiful and helpless… And that bitch hid the children! It was an easy way to punish her..." He trailed off. "Please, forgive me, I swear it won't happen again!"

"Oh no it won't. Because you suffered and died, and I brought your mind back to torture you again," Rheana smiled, "But her? She suffered, and she will heal."

The general shuddered, his entire being trembling under the weight of Rheana's command. His eyes closed tight as tears began to stream down his cheeks, Rheana was sure the male had wet himself too, there was always that downside of bringing a mind back with magic, it jolted up some other functions too. "Please… Please don't hurt me anymore," he begged, voice cracking.

"Well, if you're lying to be general, you'll wish your body was obliterated like the rest of your soldiers," Rheana cooed as if talking to an infant, "Because I will be back, and that would hurt so much more."

Rheana withdrew her hand from his head, her fingers and palm soiled in blood as the male went limp again, looking more dead than he was before.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist- @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[ashe-withane]

If Ted Lasso Characters Had Superpowers

With some help from @marbearmarigold

I’d imagine this would be in a universe where superpowers are normal and just banned when you’re competing in sports

Ted - Decimation / “The Undoing” - I’ve stolen this from The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself (tv show) (I’ve put a video below) it’s basically like, exploding people from the inside. I think Ted has this, but he never uses it.

Rebecca - Control over Plants - like Layla from Sky High and with Poison Ivy vibes.

Trent - Persuasion / Charm - kind of like Lucifer in Lucifer (tv). He can get people to tell him things they normally wouldn’t. But he never uses it for journalism, even in his earlier days. It would be cheating (and unethical).

Beard - He’s just a normal guy. But. Like Batman - also nobody knows whether he’s actually got a power or not.

Higgins - Sound Manipulation - turns sound into energy. Uses his bass. Similar to Viktor Hargreaves but Higgins must use his bass for the power to work.

Nate - Invisibility

Keeley - Sky? Powers: Flight and Lightning

Roy - Earthquakes

Jamie - Sonic Scream - like Black Canary. I wanted something that people wouldn’t attribute his football success to, I guess? It was almost super speed though.

Colin - Mimic - with a touch he copies someone else’s power for a short amount of time. Maybe he has it for an hour? I almost did shapeshifting (he’s a chameleon) but I felt like this really shows that he can adapt to any situation (he’s still a chameleon!)

Isaac - Super Strength

Sam - Pyrokinesis - Fire. a power that seems violent, but with Sam it’s warmth. Life.

Dani - Talks to Ghosts - I like to think he had a chat with the 400 treatment room ghosts and they told him what to do so they could finally move on. They tripped him to get his attention because they’ve wanted to move on for years.

Some bonus ones I just thought of:

Will - Super Hearing

Henry - Healing - can heal both himself and other people.

CW for video of Ted’s power: blood, gore, violence

This is Ted’s power. The person with the power in this video is the girl at the very end, Annalise.

[gaoau]

it's (not) fine (ゼロ ; zero ; cero)

It's fine if you're not here. Either way, i'll always remember you. Hey, kei, say my name. It's not fine if you're not here.

pairing — Baji Keisuke x reader word count — 4.7k note — this is a spin-off of it's so cold. it can be read on its own, but some context might be missing. thanks for reading!

It's fine.

i've convinced myself it is, at least. It's been quite some time since things started changing—since people started leaving. i've grown as used to it as i can so it'd be easier on Mikey. Whether it worked when Ken happened or not, i can't really tell. i think it might have. Seeing how things turned out with South, maybe it didn't. It doesn't really matter—it does, just not quite the way it's supposed to. When things are quiet like this, it feels like Mikey never even killed anyone in the first place. The same way he once killed Tora—though that was erased—and the same way i once killed Manjiro—though that was erased—and the same way he once killed South—though that.

It's quiet in here. Kanto Manji has grown so obnoxiously large that it's hardly quiet around me anymore. Mikey headed out earlier without a word, Haru in tow, and Koko's busy downstairs with an ong—Koko's just busy. i don't know what everyone else is doing. Commando unit, special attack unit, even Kakucho. Bullshit. The only special attack unit i ever cared for was kei and Tora. i like things better when they're like this; quiet and empty and peaceful. i'm not sure when i started to like silence so much.

It's quiet now, but it was never quiet around kei.

My sigh echoes in this emptiness. i've convinced myself it's fine while i try and find something that won't remind me of him. It seems difficult when i keep clinging onto him like this. The cross pendant engraves its shape on my palm the more i tighten my fist around it. i've always loved kei's sense of fashion, but this necklace suddenly seems horrendous. It's hard to believe the moon hanging in the sky is the same one that drifted by when we were together. Photographs are just pieces of paper and memories are nothing but dust, yet it all makes him resurface in my mind.

A big heart and a big smile and a big voice. Although the room is quiet, my head isn't. It plays in a timber gruff and too deep for a kid my age. Then again, it's been two years and he's no longer my age where he left. If anyone can stay young forever, it's definitely kei—in heart and spirit, of course, because physically he's sure to grow and open up that pet shop he's always wanted.

It plays. It's the ghost in the back of my head, playing, "Chifuyu's unhinged!"

The loud sound of his laughter rings through the air, somehow—but unsurprisingly—overpowering his roaring engine. i lean against the backrest and curl my fingers a little more securely around his precious Goki. Even if i have my own bike, kei's always been persuasive enough to make me hitch a ride with him. He's here, right in front of me, and i laugh alongside him. "I heard!" my cackles mimic his, "He's really got your back, huh?"

"That's putting it lightly." And it really is. Chifuyu's been with him for less than i have, but he knows how to make consistent choices. If there's anyone i trust to keep kei safe, it's definitely his new vice-captain. Back then, at least; now that i've stared at his death these many times, i should have known.

So i let my shoulders bounce in glee and amusement. "Better keep my hands off you, then." These little moments, when we're hanging out at the dojo, bare feet padding on the mats, chasing the moon so high in the sky; the blurred line between Toman meetings in the middle of the night and childhood friends bantering. "Or tell him to chill out," i snicker. i doubt Chifuyu would lay a hand on me.

In a fit of sheer stupidity, in typical kei fashion, he cranes his neck back and grins at me over his shoulder. "What, were you thinking 'bout putting me in my place?"

"kei!" i scramble to shake him by the shoulders and slap his attention back forward. "Eyes on the road, dipshit!" i catch a flash of the moon blooming in his fangs before he speeds down the road. And i give up. He lets me have the last word and i think just this is okay, so i let it go. i hold onto him tight until we arrive at Musashi Shrine.

When we park, it's a distance away from the torii gate, as per usual. This is where we part ways, because i don't think there's ever been a time when kei and i crossed to the sacred together. It's always meeting him after he's already far ahead, or not meeting him at all for a decade. i get off his bike and slap his back with enthusiasm. But kei catches me by the sleeve of my uniform before i can leave. He knows i need to—He knows i usually head up to wait for Mikey. He's always been persuasive enough.

Chifuyu's already idling by his own parked bike and kei drags me to chat him up for a little while. In his mind, a minute longer keeps me from sinking. i indulge him. Cracking jokes with these two is never dull; sharing a regular friendly conversation is always so peacefully mundane. It's loud and it's fleeting, but it's welcome. i do wonder what's taking Mikey so long. i haven't seen his Babu, so i'm guessing he's not here yet.

i only manage a wandering glance towards the torii gate before kei's voice pulls me away, "Wanna join us for some burgers after the meeting?" It's the way he says my given name that brings me back from the pressure on my shoulders. It's my name he says. It's not a mess of sounds in the shape of a brand.

"Yeah!" Then Chifuyu chimes in with that nickname Mikey passed onto everyone around me. It doesn't show on my face; it never has. "We should hang out!"

i chuckle at their mirroring beams. It's light-hearted. "Only if you're paying, kei."

Chifuyu again, with that nickname and an honorific far too formal. "That's what I'm here for! I wouldn't make my captains pay, right, Baji-san?"

i glare pointedly at Chifuyu's captain. "kei." My tone is accusatory enough to make him feign ignorance. kei averts his eyes from mine with a cheeky smile, palms and shoulders raised to plead not guilty. There's not a single timeline in which he's guilty. A snort slips, "i'd fuck you up, kei," and i glance at kei's unhinged vice-captain, "but i'd rather not get stri—"

"There you are!" comes Mikey's distinctive voice from behind me. He calls my nickname with familiarity. It can't bother me, not this early on in the game.

i instantly turn towards him. It's weird that i didn't hear his Babu pull up. Not that it matters, really. "Mikey!" i call back to him, beaming, waving for him to come closer before i head to him.

Mikey's looking around as he stops a few feet before me, Ken trailing behind. "Where's your bike?"

"Oh, i came with kei."

His eyes shift to kei for a brief moment, empty. Then he lets out a soft chuckle, his attention back on me, a simper on his lips as he shakes his head. "Dummy… Guess I gotta give you a ride back now."

"Sure." i smile back at him. Then i turn to look at kei and Chifuyu again, and i see the expressions on their faces. It's cute to find Chifuyu's disappointed i'm turning him down, but kei—It's only for a moment. "Ah, i'll—Maybe next time? i'll catch you guys later." i leave them with a small wave, because although kei's always persuasive, it's never enough to tear me away from Mikey permanently. 

i feel lighter in my own skin and bones by the time i stand next to Mikey, feeling the ghost of a tug on my sleeve reminding me i'm allowed to exist outside of my self-imposed priorities. We cross the torii gates together; we transition from the mundane to the untouchable. i laugh and i enjoy my time alongside my friends. i don't quite see what kei does, or his reasoning for making me hitch rides that can't stop me. He thinks i won't run away this time, but i've always chosen Mikey over myself.

He knows that. And it's not something he needs to stop. It's fine, after all, it's always been like this. kei knows that.

kei or simply Baji Keisuke. For everyone, Baji—Baji-san, Baji-kun, Baji in admiration and in friendship and in disdain. For me, however, just kei. i never understood why Mikey chose Baji, too. i think about the way i addressed the people surrounding me sometimes. Tora for Kazutora, and Takashi's first name. Never that childish honorific for Ken, and even Pah was Haru before i realized i couldn't handle Haruchiyo's scars in my mind every time i talked to him. Even switching back and forth between Mikey and Manjiro, because i've never known who is who or who exists and who doesn't or who's real and who isn't. i could never curse Takemichi with Takemicchi. Koko—that wasn't a choice, but i think Koko is fine.

And then there was Baji Keisuke. Being with him since childhood, it only made sense i'd refer to him by his first name and so would he for me. Neither of us liked beating around the bush. It only made sense. We were close and it showed in our voices. That's how we grew up. Baji was short-lived, Keisuke sounds like mom when she scolds me, and Edward was stupid the same way Michael is and will always be. kei simply rolled off the tongue nicely.

i found solace in the way kei pronounced my given name���not some low-effort, jumbled, scrambled mess of hiragana that Mikey came up with to brand me like cattle. i chose to call him differently so i'd separate him from Mikey's possessions. Although i wasn't interested in seeing things beyond Mikey, i unconsciously tried to pull away from him by pulling into kei. Sometimes, it felt more like kei was trying to pull Mikey off my shoulders. There was always so much pulling, so much burning at the seams, but never any pushing. All he wanted was for me to wake up and realize, not startle me.

Because that's what kei always has been. His ripped shirts and his stylish choker. The slouch of his shoulders and the sparkle in his eyes. The sound of his loud voice, gruff and too deep for a kid my age, calling out from his bike so i'd hop on faster. Peppy and cheerful, with a big grin and an equally big heart, far too stupid and far too smart for his own good. Careful, watchful, a little too much in the know, and much too little into asking for help.

He knew i could bleed and that i'd give everything up for Mikey to live his life and that i was always ready to die. That's really all that kei's always been; standing tall, but looking small, like a mischievous little thing grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along. Like he knew no matter how much he pulled, i'd always choose Mikey in the end. For worse, never for better. Like it's fine. For better, never for worse.

Another Toman meeting tonight, with the day growing late and the full moon rising in the sky. It's one of those nights, rare but not impossible, where Mikey is here earlier than me. i cross the torii gates on my own and the silence seems so loud. i'm not really used to things being quiet around me. i've always been surrounded by boisterous people. We're delinquents.

And kei takes pride in that; in his glimmering grin and his extreme volume. "Slow down, will ya?!" comes his distinctive voice from behind me. He calls my name with glee. 

i stop without so much as taking another step away from him. It's not only his voice, but also knowing there's no one else but kei to use my given name with care. i wait for him to catch up to me, smiling at him climbing the stairs. "kei, hey."

His hands are attacking my hair before i can duck away. "I told you I'd pick you up. Why didn't you wait for me, dumbass?" Laughter bounces off his every sentence. We take a small break from all this shallow back-and-forth between Toman and our friendship. i exist outside of my chains. i exist with kei.

His assault on my scalp is relentless even after i swat my palms at his face. i scratch his cheek, hissing, "And i told you i have my own bike, dude."

"Then we going for a ride after this?"

"i'm more up for a race, how 'bout that?" i playfully knock my shoulder into his.

Where kei usually knocks me back, tonight he chooses to freeze on his tracks. i look back and down at him, finding his eyes gawking at me in disbelief. i raise a brow as he says, "You're actually free later?" Then i frown. i'm sure, i'm so sure i'll forever remember him and his words, trying to pull me back.

"Yeah?"

"What about Mikey?"

What about Mikey? It's my own naïveté the one that doesn't let me understand. "i… i don't know?" But i'll know soon enough. And kei won't be there for me to hide behind.

"Huh." It's short and he brushes it off his face before he lets on too much. He's always been one to take everything on his back. As if nothing else he'll ever hear could throw him off, kei resumes walking, shrugging his shoulders carefreely. "Since you're always following him, I thought, you know…" he trails off, like he sometimes realizes he actually doesn't know much at all. 

i blink a few times to reorient myself. He's already climbing up the stairs in silence ahead of me. Although kei knows me, it seems my choices still elude him. It seems my choices elude me myself. i can't find the words to tell him that even if he's not Manjiro, i still love him to bits. If i can't explain it now, i'll be left all alone. But i don't say anything. i don't know if i can say anything. i hurry to catch up to him.

When he finds me heavy by his side again, kei snickers to himself, "Then I'll beat your ass." My name dances with the sound of his laughter. With the full moon hanging in the sky and shining in his pockets, he flashes me one of his boyish grins. i giggle for a moment before falling quiet in my thoughts once more.

What about Mikey?

i hear the door open and close behind me. kei's necklace makes its way back into my pocket, away from cold, prying eyes that might accuse me of abandonment. Not that i would ever leave Manjiro, but he sees the puzzle pieces in my hands and makes up his own image. He calls that nickname he gifted me, the one written with syllables out of order and chaos in his head.

i turn towards him to find him idly standing by the door. Speaking of silence, i guess it's because of him i've had to grown used to it. With my friends all gone, the loud and boisterous ones that would never shut up—like kei, of course—this quietude has become the norm. Maybe i've always liked silence and peace, but i didn't know any better until now.

"I'm hungry," is all Mikey says.

His eyes find mine. i'm getting tired of everything i'm supposed to call mine. All my friends and my allies and even Mikey. Dark gaze and long hair—like kei, but he's not kei, and kei will eternally remain in my sight, grinning forever, unfading. My friend. i'm sick of trying to find a single thought that will make sense. i sigh, because the choices i've made force me to reach my hands out to Mikey.

It's vague, but i brush his hair off his face, suggesting, "Take-out soba?" i don't dare specify and let him know i've been thinking a little too much.

"I just want dessert."

"Okay."

i have to hold my stare for a little longer than i actually should. Manjiro blurs in and out of sight the more i look at him. He's curiously staring back, probably wondering why i'm taking so long to order ice-cream for the both of us. Of course. i pull my hands away, searching in my pockets for my phone. All i find is a cross pendant. i'm still hungry for yakisoba.

That's the thing—that's always been the thing. Things i didn't want to see or i simply couldn't pay attention to because i was too busy making sure Mikey wouldn't derail. Things kei tried to pry off my back so many times by making me hitch rides i didn't need. Where Mikey unknowingly—or knowingly?—forces me to loosen my grip on my own identity, kei comes to help me wrap my fingers and close my fists tight around it again. It's an offer and it's never imposed; i have my choices when it comes to kei.

And it's fine, because i choose to go back to Manjiro every time. So i order ice-cream and take-out yakisoba.

i stand nearly in shock next to Toman's president. kei came, disrupted the meeting, socked Takemichi, and left while declaring himself an enemy to us—to me. He's leaving. Right now, as Kisaki fixes his glasses to also punch Takemichi, kei is leaving. Right now, as Takashi grumbles to himself, kei is leaving. Right now, as Manjiro does nothing but sulk, kei is leaving.

He's leaving. He's gone.

i stare and stare and stare at the empty spot beside Chifuyu. Right now, as i don't move a single muscle, kei is leaving. It feels like an eternity later when i finally snap out of my own pity party. Mikey's fingers barely brush my wrist in a futile attempt to keep me in place. kei's already left, he doesn't want another one of his friends to abandon him for the enemy. He knows better than that.

i would never leave him. kei would never leave him.

(kei, right now, is leaving.)

i would never betray him. kei would never betray him.

(kei was there when Shin was killed.)

My feet are almost floating down the stairs, skipping steps and struggling not to stumble stupidly until i crash at the torii gates. kei comes into sight, a few feet before crossing back onto the mundane without me. He throws a glance over his shoulder when he hears me catching my breath behind him. It's between choking gasps for air that i manage to call out to him, "kei." Is it in admiration or in friendship or in disdain? It's in my voice. "Why are you doing this?" It's in fear.

"Hah?" he drawls. He turns to face me fully. The moon blooms in his smirk. "I'm bored of playing kids' games."

i take a step closer. "Dude, don't lie to me." Kids' games is all we've been playing—kids' games is all we know how to play. i'll let him lie to anyone else. i don't care if he's a liar or a cheater or a fraud, as long as he doesn't lie to me.

"Since when do you care about anything that isn't Mikey?"

"i don't." It makes me wonder how any of this manages to get under my skin. i don't think i could handle this ending for me to begin. Where do i begin?

"Then fuck off," kei snarls like he hates me, like i'm stupid, "I don't have time for a lap dog like you." The insult doesn't hurt because it's true—even if it really, really is true—it hurts because he's lying to me. It hurts because i keep ignoring all the signs to turn myself around. It hurts because kei is right in front of me, offering me a helping hand for the umpteenth time since we met as kids.

i look at it. It's not there, but i look at it. There's blood on his palm from the other two times i've seen him die. i hesitate when i brush my fingers against his. "kei, how are you doing this?" i force eye contact on him. He questions me loudly. He's a little too smart and a little too stupid. "How can you just turn your back on him? How do i do that?"

"You're lost." There it is; my name, myself, my own person.

i tightly grasp his hand and my righteous identity. Away from the Sanos and their chains. Away from the intoxicating charm that sinks me deeper and deeper into this hole. "Take me with you." i hold onto the ghost of kei's hand and try wiggling myself out of Manjiro's grip.

It flashes across his eyes for a brief moment, because finally, finally all his individual efforts to rip my voice from inside of me and set me free are paying off. All i need to do is let go of Mikey. All kei needs to do is snatch my hand. i see his feet stutter in their own steps and how his fingers twitch by his side and how he's psyching himself up to reach out for me.

And i shrink back. i choose Manjiro again. "No, you're right," i sigh, laughing to myself like i'm not cutting down all the warning signs kei's been leaving for me, "That'll just cause more problems." Now i'll never get to him—not past the torii gates and certainly not past death. "Take care of Tora for me."

kei scans me up and down one last time. i don't know if it's pity, resentment, or even anger the emotion shining in his gaze. He turns his back on me with a single scoff that he has to force out of his throat. Of course i trust him to tear all of my stitches off one by one, of course i trust him to remove this weight off my shoulders. It's Mikey the one i don't trust.

It's fine, really. Even if i didn't have the words back then, kei will forever be here by my side. In spirit and in heart and leaning against the backrest of his Goki. If it has to be like this, i think it's fine. i'll never know more than this and i'll live with it. How differently would things have turned out if i had followed kei out of the shrine? Would Mikey's grip on me have worsened? Or would it have vanished completely? His stance on traitors has never been clear, especially when he ticks back and forth like a metronome with a distorted tempo. Hypotheticals are useless. i can hide behind kei all i want for the rest of my life, but i can't run away from Manjiro.

kei's not here anymore for me to find solace in, though. He hasn't been here for the past two years. It's not like he's gone forever, of course—after all, death is only temporary, so i'm sure at some point, he's bound to come back. He's come back every time. He'll extend his hand out to me and drag me along again in typical kei fashion. He'll make an effort to not have me sink and i'll listen this time. i will listen. i swear i will. He'll let me know when it's all said and done, give me a ride home, raid my fridge even. 

It's alright, it's okay, it's fine. i've known it all along. In the middle of fighting, in the middle of a kids' game, things take a turn for the worse and steal the glow of the moon from kei's smile. Things don't make sense. Next to Mikey, it's all chaos, but i'm not next to Mikey in this junkyard, because he's too busy wanting to kill Tora. i fight my own fight against Valhalla members, and i figure that's the difference between me and Manjiro. i don't want to fight my friends; i don't want to fight Tora; i don't want to fight kei.

Breaking Tora won't do any of us any good. It won't bring Shin back, it will put murder in Mikey's hands, and we'll be losing a friend we only just managed to get back. We're here to get kei back, not to push Tora farther away. i watch it all happen, gasping for air and choking on my own bloodied nose. kei collapses, someone—Takemichi? Or is it Chifuyu?—mentions a stab wound, there's blood but it's not inside kei, and Manjiro.

Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. i've seen this already. Manjiro's killed Tora twice before. kei. kei has died twice before, in timelines Takemichi didn't know about yet. Mikey is bashing Tora's face in with just one of his fists. Honestly, it doesn't really matter. Whatever happens here, Mikey will become a murderer anyway two years from now when he doesn't bother holding back against South.

But kei. Will kei come back?

i mean, of course he will. It's kei, after all. kei knows his weaknesses and his strengths; kei knows death can't be permanent, especially not for him. He'll come back, because he's Baji Keisuke—because he's kei. And i wish i could blame him and tell him he's wrong when he chooses Tora over himself and over Chifuyu and over everyone and over me. He chooses Tora the same way i'm always choosing Mikey, so i should have seen this coming. But he's wrong. But it's his choice. But he's kei, and kei doesn't die—not forever, at least.

i'm far away and on my own and silent as i watch him die. i'm far away but i can hear the way he says my name and how awfully dissonant it rings next to Mikey's when he lists all of our friends. He swears, right there, on his deathbed, that we're all his treasure and he wanted to protect us. He won't always be there for me to hide behind, will he? He wanted to protect me. He—He wanted to—kei wanted to. He wanted to. kei really wanted to.

kei. kei is dead, isn't he?

He died in Chifuyu's arms. The last word out of his mouth was a name and it was not mine. He died. kei died. kei is dead. kei's not here anymore, he's all but the ghost in the back of my head, playing, "Chifuyu's unhinged!" so i can hear him laugh again. Although i've convinced myself it's fine, i'm starting to think it's not. Maybe, just maybe.

i look at Manjiro.

It's not fine.

—あごす (agosu) • 2022

[witchy-rook]

Gather Your Allies: An Inexhaustive List of a Lot (but not all) of the Allies you can Gather for the Final Boss of Baldur's Gate 3

I just finished Baldur's Gate 3 the other day, and having done literally every side quest I could get my hands on (aside from deciding to give up on Dribbles at the end because I couldn't be arsed), I had a metric fuckload of support to call on for the final battle. Mostly for fun, but partially for documentation purposes and in case it proves useful to anyone (as I know more than a few people who made it to the final boss with very little support), I've decided to record whose support I had and how I got it. This should represent a good swathe of the companions you can get for the final battle throughout the game by being vaguely Good aligned.

Major spoilers below the cut!

The advice on attaining these characters is likely not definitive, but it's what I did and I got them, so if you do the same you should get them as well! They're listed here in the order they said their piece in the cutscene.

Arabella:

(Although now that I think of it, I'm not sure what she did given you can't summon her in the battle. Presumably one of the myriad buffs)

Save her in Act 2, and presumably talk with her and Withers

Arabella is encounterable in a small section of the sewers in Act 3, off a side passage near the waypoint surrounded by a load of dead bodies. I don't know if meeting her is necessary, but I imagine so, since during that interaction she says she'll help you and 'Gather Your Allies' updates.

Dammon & The Armoured Owlbear:

I imagine not letting Dammon die at any point is a big thing here.

Acquire the owlbear cub in Act 1.

I talked with Dammon a lot through Karlach's story, but I doubt this is strictly necessary. I also met him again in Act 3, but again, I don't know if this is strictly necessary.

Counsellor Florrick & the Flaming Fist:

I imagine encountering her and Ulder Ravengard's entourage in Act 1 is something of a requirement for this.

Rescue Florrick from Wyrm's Rock Prison in Act 3 and then convince her not to lose heart through a series of checks.

Barcus Wroot & the Iron Hand Gnomes:

Absolute heart throb (that's not advice, it's just true)

Prevent him from dying at any point. Rescue him at every opportunity (ie the CORRECT way to play) etc etc so that he makes it to Act 3.

Importantly, after the Gyrmforge explicitly invite him to your camp, otherwise you may not see him again :(

Refuse to go along with Wulbren's plan to blow the Gondian's Sky High.

Save the Gondians (I did the Iron Throne first, causing the enslaved Gondians to rise up), destroy the Steelwatcher Foundry, and during the confrontation between Barcus and Wulbren, side with Barcus and get him instated as leader of the Ironhand Gnomes.

Isobel & Dame Aylin:

Prevent Isobel from being kidnapped by Ketheric Thorm in Act 2.

Save Dame Aylin from the Shadowfell in Act 2.

Do not give Dame Aylin over to Lorroakan (you monster).

Duke Ulder Ravengard:

(Like Arabella, I think Ravengard mainly gives you a buff. I think it might have been 'Inspired' or 'Rallied' or something like that.)

Save Duke Ulder Ravengard from the Iron Throne in Act 3, and prevent him and Wyll from having a falling out.

Note: I actually exchanged him for Wyll's freedom and then went and saved him.

I don't know if completing the rest of Wyll's story is necessary, but I did and you should too cause it kicks ass. It kicks ass so hard I'm not even going to say what's involved in this huge spoilery post. Let's just say it reveals some major things about the story, and gives Wyll great claim on 'main character' status.

Yurgir:

(This one I'm proudest of, because I was not expecting it and it seems pretty convoluted to get him.)

Fight him in the Sharran temple in Act 2 and win (obviously, because you'd be dead otherwise.)

Go to the House of Hope in Act 3, steal the Orphic Hammer.

Fight Raphael, but before the fight succeed the Persuasion check to convince Yurgir to fight with you instead of against you.

After the fight (ensuring that Yurgir lives, presumably), when Yurgir says that he has to go back to the Bloodwar, tell him you have your own fight coming and he could join you. The absolute chad he is, he'll be like 'fuck yeah let's do it.'

Rolan, Lord of Ramazith's Tower:

Convince Rolan to stay with the refuges in Act 1.

Save him from the Shadows near Reithwin (en route to Moonrise Towers) in Act 2.

Save his siblings from Moonrise Towers in Act 2.

Fight Lorroakan in Act 3 and beat his sorry ass. Convince Rolan to take over the tower and believe in himself.

Inspector Valeria & the City Watch:

Take on the investigation into the Open Hand Temple murders in Rivington in Act 3.

Convince Valeria that there is more going on here than they think. Solve said murders. I doubt keeping Valeria's little constable friend alive is strictly necessary, but I did.

Rescue Valeria from the Murder Tribunal, who are keeping them imprisoned in a sideroom. I think solving the murders is a prerequisite for this, because the impression I got is that Orin and Sarevok kidnap Valeria as revenge for foiling the murders.

Volo's Guide to Doing Fuck All:

(Again, not sure what material support Volo gives. In this case I actually think it might be nothing because. Well. It's Volo.)

Save him at the various opportunities in Acts 1 through 3. Most importantly, save him in Act 3 outside the Steelwatcher Foundary.

I don't think talking to him in camp afterwards is necessary but you should because he's great, and if you save him before fighting Orin he gives you a sick buff against the Slayerform.

Zevlor & The Hellriders:

Side with him in Act 1 and don't betray the tieflings/the Grove.

Rescue him in Act 2 in the flesh pits below Moonrise Towers (Easy to miss! He's in one of the pods in the Mindflayer Colony.)

Talk to him about his past, his failure to defend the refugees in Act 2 and convince him that he can still make up for his failings.

Nine-Fingers Keene & the Guild:

Search out the Guild in Act 3 and help them with their Stonelord problem.

After searching out the Stonelord, the Zhentarim will stage an attack on the Guild headquarters. Intervene on the side of the Guild and help defend them. Ensure Nine-Fingers lives (though this should be easy, because she kicks ass.)

The Gur:

Agree to help them rescue their people from Cazador in Act 3.

After freeing the captives in Cazador's Palace, convince Ulma not to hate your guts by revealing just who those captive thralls you freed are.

Unfortunately for all you Ascended Astarion stans out there, I imagine going down that road locks the Gur out.

Though notably, I did sideline that one Gur hunter in Act 1, and was still able to work with them in Act 3.

Halsin & Thaniel:

(Obviously Halsin can be in your party, this gives you a specific buff.)

Side with the Grove in Act 1, rescue Halsin, recruit him, etc.

In Act 2, complete the storyline with Halsin, Art Cullagh and Thaniel and successfully heal the Shadowcursed Lands.

The Harpers:

(Again, Jaheira can still be in your party, though this time you get an actual summon.)

Side with Jaheira and her Harpers in Act 2 and help them storm Moonrise Towers.

Recruit her to your party, and complete her various quests in Act 3 (rendezvousing with the Harpers and the stuff with Stonelord)

My approval with her was decently high, though by no means maxed out, so I reckon that so long as she's with you, this should trigger.

And that's that! This is by no means even all the 'Good' companions you can get, if I had to guess, but hopefully it might help you find some of them. As you can see, most of these require prep work in Act 1 or 2, but there's at least a few that can be attained, I'd imagine, soley through quests in Act 3. Good luck out there, and give them hell!

[vamp-orwave]

Her Favourite Worst Nightmare

I - Toccata

It was a cold winter night for Adelaide, but having just come from London's mild summer, Judith had expected it to be much colder. There was almost no change at all in temperature, but the air was cleaner -- so clean she wondered how she'd ever breathed at all before she died. The rain had followed her to this city too, gently spattering across the tram window.

"So what do you reckon?" Frankie prodded, nudging Judith with his meaty elbow across the aisle where they both stood.

"Huh?" The Daeva turned blankly to her clanmate, taking a moment to process his question. The last night she was awake had been a very long night, and she had the feeling tonight was going to be another.

Rubbing her bleary eyes and focusing past the rain, she surveyed the urban scenery as it passed by. Lit only by false light under an overcast sky -- orange sodium, cold fluorescent, LED headlights, colourful neon, and their blurred reflections on the drizzle-slick asphalt -- Judith could make out the painted iron of colonial balconies, the elaborate stone of Victorian masonry, and the glass and steel of modern skyscrapers between the slow river of cars and pedestrians that wove their way in and out of the connecting streets and alleys. This city wore its age on its sleeve, and it was young, like she was.

She was grateful for that.

"At least there's a night life?" Judith attempted gloomily.

"Better than you could hope for on such short notice. Just wished more bands stopped here, ay. Y'know Zeppelin passed us over in '72? Fuckin' devastating." Frankie shook his head, then shot a cheeky wink at the older fellow seated nearby who'd turned to give him a queer look.

"But I was asking about your new digs," he added, a little quieter.

"Oh." Judith's mind flashed back to the peeling paint and stained carpet.

"They'll do fine," she replied, a little more honestly this time. It was private enough, and shelter from the sun, and she knew havening in another shithole would make her feel right at home in this pale, sleepy shadow of the broken empire she'd never see again.

"Right on. We'll get you some furniture so you're not sleeping on the floor."

The tram crawled to a stop at a sheltered island in between the lanes of King William Street. As the doors opened, and the kine surrounding them began to shuffle out into the night air, Judith leaned in close enough to whisper.

"Think I've got time for a hit?"

Moving to alight with the other passengers, Frankie looked her up and down with a grin, and beckoned her to follow suit before more evening riders could cram themselves into the carriage. He sat down on a steel bench and waited for the tramstop to empty and the doors to close.

"Probably not the best idea to be sky high when you meet the Prince," he laughed, as the transport slowly slithered off to resume its circular route.

"'Sides, you'll be here for hours trying to sniff out anyone willing to take junk from some rando cockney punk they've never laid eyes on. Anyone your type, anyway."

Frank's eyes lingered on her chest for the third time that night, Judith noticed. She always noticed when someone looked a little too long. Not that men ever tried to hide it.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I can be pretty bloody persuasive."

With a sarcastic smile, Judith turned to appraise her surroundings. She tried her best to focus, to put the itching thirst for her next fix out of her mind. Her new best friend had brought her here, to the communal hunting grounds known as The Rack, because she had a more pressing thirst to quench.

"Hindley Street that way," he pointed ahead of him, "Pubs and clubs galore," then he thumbed over his shoulder. "Rundle Mall that way. Shops are all closed right now though."

"Closed!?" Judith gaped. "It's not even six yet!"

Frankie let out a brassy chuckle. "Welcome to South Australia!"

"How the fuck do you buy shit then?"

"Ghouls. Just about everyone's got one."

Judith rolled her eyes. Lovely. Another complication. Frankie waved dismissively.

"No worries, we can share until you've found one. Grant's got good taste, he'll get you started on a new collection."

Judith made a sour expression and resumed her focus, scanning the thin crowd of mortals on either side of the street for her next meal. It still stung that she'd had to abandon 35 years of records, not to mention her favourite Fender.

"You 'right then?" she offered.

"Yeah, had a snack on the way in. Back here when you're done, then we'll boogie."

With a nod, Judith hopped off the tramstop and strode purposefully off towards the outdoor Mall to the East, avoiding further conversation. She wasn't in the mood to play the social game, and no good targets had yet presented themselves for an ambush. Most women walked with their partner or in groups, or else they weren't particularly appetising.

Trudging out of the mild bustle of King William into what was at this hour an underused thoroughfare between more desirable destinations, she was about to settle on tailing a wrinkled old bat dragging a hand-cart when her ears picked up the sound of music.

The piercing, mournful song of wailing strings cut through the damp night air, drawing Judith in like a siren. For a few sweet moments, she forgot her gnawing hunger as she floated upon the melody, following it to its source.

Rounding the corner of one of Rundle's numerous side-passages, she at last laid eyes on the gorgeous, glossy curves of a violin in fervent motion. It was cradled by a short, skinny lad, bundled up in a duffel coat and thick red scarf, and he seemed lost in his passionate playing.

Judith stood, captivated. Leaning against the wall across the path from the young man, she watched the soft rain fall between them from her adjacent point of shelter, surrendering herself to join him on the higher plane of ecstasy shared only by a musician and their audience. It was some classical piece she was sure she'd heard before, but couldn't name. Hardly her scene, but masterful regardless.

When she came back to earth, Judith noticed the violinist was staring at her from behind his dancing bow. Momentarily startled, she thought to reach for her wallet for a tip until she remembered she was woefully short on this country's legal tender. Instead she patted her pockets and shrugged to her fellow artist with an apologetic smile, and had turned to move on when a passerby suddenly caught her eye.

A woman, tall and pale. Blonde. Fishnets. Fur coat. Judith felt her heart leap into her throat.

It couldn't be. Could it?

She forgot her prior reverie immediately, falling in behind the girl in a silent pursuit. Her ravenous eyes burned into the back of that pretty, golden head. What would Charlotte be doing on this side of the world? Had Frankie smuggled her out of hot water too, all those years ago? Don't be stupid, she told herself. Even if she were here, what are the chances you'd meet her again the very first night?

Judith quickened her pace. She couldn't sense a Beast within that beautiful figure, but she had to be sure. When her quarry turned off the main path, she seized the opportunity to close the distance.

"'Scuse me, love!" she called out.

The woman turned. It wasn't Charlotte.

Judith's heart sank a little. The blissful nights she'd spent with her Sire were so long ago now that they seemed like a dream, and throughout the lonely years since she'd woken, the details had been slowly slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Would she even recognise Charlotte's perfect, painted smile if it were inches away?

"Can I help you?"

The mortal woman in front of her did not smile. Her posture stiffened at being approached in this low light, but she stood her ground. Judith gave her a friendly grin. Her small stature and deceptively cherubic face tended to set strangers at ease, despite the studs and leather jacket.

"Sorry to bother you love -- my phone's dead," Judith lied. "Any chance you can point me to a cafe that's still open?"

The pretense and friendly tone gave the poor girl an excuse to lower her guard a little.

"Oh." She glanced around to further gauge her immediate safety, wobbling a little on her red stilettos. "Sure, hang on."

Momentarily taking her eyes off of Judith, she dug a hand into her coat pocket to pull up google maps. Though cordial, she kept a vice grip on her gold-plated smartphone.

"Cheers love," Judith edged ever closer, eyeing her prey's white, swan-like neck.

When her search had loaded, she tilted her phone screen to show Judith the nearest red pins, wordlessly inviting her to lean in.

Too easy.

Lightning fast, Judith latched one hand tightly around the woman's wrist, slipped the other arm around the waist of her cocktail dress, and pulled her into The Kiss.

She felt her fangs slip into the warm, supple flesh like butter. Her prey quickly loosened in her grip, and uttered a delicious, sugary moan. Judith pushed Not-Charlotte up against the nearest wall; pressed a knee between her thighs. She let herself sink into a bittersweet nostalgia as thick, coppery blood -- with a welcome kick of vodka -- gushed red-hot into her waiting mouth and down her throat. Drinking her fill, she lost herself in the smell of her hair, the dance of her heart, the shape of her lithe body helpless beneath desperate hands.

It was only after Judith had licked the puncture marks closed and left her victim alone in a daze that she noticed the violin had stopped. Retracing her steps, she found that sure enough, the lad had packed it in and was nowhere to be seen.

Mustn't be a good night for it, she thought with a small pang of regret. For a moment, she considered chasing him down, thrusting twenty quid into his hand and letting him figure it out, but decided against it. With any luck, she'd be in town long enough to see him again.

Besides -- she had somewhere more important to be tonight, and she was probably already fashionably late.

[next]

[sakaiyuji234]

Roses in the Mirror

Chapter 2

*MTL*

　In the blink of an eye, they all became adults. She had long since lost the news of the boy she missed so much, and Su Jianian had long since become distant. She felt a little lonely, but she was happy to reunite with her old friends: "Yeah, but I often see your news, and I don't think you are strange at all. I remember that every time we went out to play when we were young, your mother would ask you to go home and practice piano. , you are the most diligent person, and now your hard work really pays off." After saying that, he gave a thumbs up.

　　He didn't appreciate her compliments at all. He just touched the head of Little Pepper, who warmly welcomed him, and changed the subject: "I heard from my sister that you are looking for a job in jewelry design now?"

　　"right."

　　"If you persist so much, even if what you like is different, you will definitely be able to do it well."

　　The three of them chatted at home for a while and then went out to have dinner together. In fact, the two brothers and sisters are from a good family, but Little Pepper is rebellious and would rather work to make money than live alone. That day, because of Su Jianian's persuasion, he finally agreed to go back and spend one night with his parents. At nine o'clock, they decided to break up and go home to rest. On a moonless night, the cold rain broke through the wet fog and fell from the sky, making the tall street lamps blur like ghosts. Su Jianian opened an umbrella under the eaves: "Luo Wei, are you living in my sister's house now? I'll give it to you."

　　Luo Wei waved her hands repeatedly: "I'll go by myself, no problem."

　　"Let's go."

　　Just as she was about to insist on her opinion, Little Pepper's Muay Thai-trained arm swung her and almost pushed her into Su Jianian's arms: "Since it's not far away, what if you let him give you a ride?" She was frightened, but Little Pepper added He said something even more shocking: "Just fulfill Brother Jianian's wish. Be good and go ahead."

　　Luo Wei's inner face turned into the look of "The Scream". She had tens of thousands of cuts on Little Pepper in her head, but she still managed to put on a Bai Yinshuang smile. She got under the umbrella, lowered her head, and walked into the rain with Su Jianian. However, sharing an umbrella with him is just the beginning of mental torture.

　　The two of them walked side by side along the way, but the atmosphere became completely cold, and there was no warmth like when the three of them were together. No one took the initiative to speak, and there was no contented silence. The only sound was the tinkling of music boxes connected in series, so continuous that even the breath was cold. This is a street that has been walked countless times every hour.

　　The night sky is dark blue, the dark clouds are light ink, and the street lamps cast a veil of ice on the streets. On rainy nights more than ten years ago, they passed by here countless times. In the puddles on the ground, silver light illuminated the soles of a group of children's sneakers. Looking down now, the reflection that appeared in the puddle was a pair of beige high-heeled shoes that were not very stable, and a pair of men's ostrich leather casual shoes that were much larger.

　　"Actually, I've always wanted to apologize to you." He was suddenly so direct, which surprised her. She looked up and saw his eyes shining slightly in the shadows. Before she could speak, he continued: "Ten years ago, you came to see me, but I hung up the phone."

　　"It's okay, it's okay. I wasn't sensible when I was young."

　　"Because that year I received a call from your father."

　　She raised her head and stared at him blankly for a long time: "...my dad?"

　　"He said that if you keep in touch with me too much and don't study hard, your grades will drop quickly and you may not even be able to pass the high school entrance examination."

　　She was confused by what he said: "How is that possible? I was the top two in our class at that time. There was someone in front of me who was always one or two points higher than me, but..."

　　Speaking of this, she suddenly remembered a time when she was on the phone with Su Jianian behind closed doors in her room. She acted like a "Brother Jianian, Brother Jianian" and made insinuations to inquire about the boy's current situation. However, after hanging up the phone and opening the door, she was faced with the person facing him. My parents’ gazes made people feel numb. Could it be that from then on, they all thought...that the object of her puppy love was Su Jianian?

　　Su Jianian also cast a surprised look at her: "Really?"

　　Seeing her expression, he knew that this question was unnecessary. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. A strong wind blew and blew the rain onto their faces. She turned her head to avoid her long hair touching him. But he remained motionless, letting his trembling bangs disturb his vision. Finally, his smile was slightly helpless: "Well, maybe they just don't want you to have too much contact with boys."

　　She grew up with boys, so this assumption is not true. They just don't want to be associated with Gongzhou, God knows why. She didn't explain, but smiled reassuringly: "Since it's a misunderstanding, there's nothing to worry about. I thought you just found me annoying."

　　"Luo Wei, I can't possibly think like this."

　　Su Jianian has really changed a lot, he has become much more stable, and is no longer as sensitive as he was when he was young. He fell into deep thought again, and the conversation stopped until Pepper's door came into view. When I walked by here at night, I could see the bright moon through the gaps between the tall buildings on both sides. This night, when I looked up, I could only see lingering silk rain. She subconsciously slowed down and tried to find the right words to say goodbye, but before she could say anything, he had already said: "After you moved away, I never thought I would receive a letter from you."

　　She was silent and listened to him.

　　"Actually, during that time, my grandfather had just passed away, my parents were divorcing, and I was in the rebellious stage. I didn't know how to regulate my emotions, and I stopped practicing piano at home. So, my mother was even more disappointed with me. You know she was disappointed. How scary." Sure enough, seeing her frightened look, he smiled and felt helpless, "So, at that time, I didn't want to go home every day, and I often wandered here alone, reading your letters. That was during that time. , the only thing that makes me happy.”

　　"Brother Jianian, I'm sorry that I didn't accompany you through this difficult time..."

　　"Men don't want others to see their own embarrassment. Although I was only a junior high school student at that time."

　　She smiled, but felt in her heart that the conversation could no longer go on. She flipped through her bag for the key card and said at the same time, "I'm going to go back and rest. You should also go home early."

　　"Lovi."

　　"Huh?" She just touched the door card and looked up at him.

　　"Although it's a little late now, I think it's still necessary to let you know." He paused, his voice so soft that it was almost inaudible, "Since I lost contact with you, I have never been able to like anyone else. "

　　"I-I see..." Her brain suddenly short-circuited, she quickly turned around and pressed the card on the machine.

　　Another low voice came from behind: "Even if you approached me just because of other people, I haven't changed."

　　"Beep" sounded twice, and the front door opened. But her hands shook, and the keys and cards fell to the ground. Su Jianian picked up the key and handed it back to her. She grabbed it and without even looking at him, she opened the door and rushed upstairs. The rain on a quiet night is like a hazy first love, fleeting and fleeting overnight. As soon as she lay down on the sofa, she saw a message from Xiaojiao: "Luo Wei, did you check Weibo this morning? Something big happened to your twin sister."

　　She was in a confused mood, so she opened Weibo, searched for the words "Xie Xinqi", and opened a video with hundreds of thousands of reposts: the camera was shaking, and it showed a playground in the afternoon, with a girl with an exquisite back on her arm. The arms of a tall boy looked around from time to time. The person who secretly photographed them followed them for more than thirty seconds. Luo Wei was about to turn off the camera, but found that the girl turned her head, and it was Xie Qianjin's face. She opened her eyes wide in surprise at the camera, realizing that someone was filming secretly, but she did not dodge. She just tightened her abdomen and raised her buttocks, turned her body at 45 degrees, made an S-shaped line, smiled slightly in the direction of the camera, and then pulled away with her index finger. He lowered his eyelids and stuck out his tongue to make a particularly ugly face...

　　Luo Wei's jaw almost dropped and she replied to Xiaojiao with a row of ellipses. Pepper immediately replied: Luo Wei's jaw almost dropped, and she replied with a row of ellipses. Pepper immediately replied: "Young lady is so brave. She even dares to touch this racing driver. His brain fans, girlfriend fans, and abdominal muscle fans are as good as popular young meat. Now the online black fans are scolding each other like this. Look, What is she still doing? I really admire this girl’s mental quality.” Then she sent a selfie of Miss Xie in a beach bikini.

　　The American people's hobby is to travel around the world. They are culturally unrestrained and well-informed, and any weirdo seems normal to them. But at this moment on the Malibu beach in Los Angeles, they still involuntarily turned their heads and looked at the Asian woman on the lounge chair: she was wearing a colorful bikini, fluorescent yellow-rimmed sunglasses on her nose, and a cocktail straw in her bright pink lips. A little white dog in a pink skirt ran around at her feet, wagging its tail as delicately as its owner. There is her Ferrari with red lanterns in the exclusive parking space not far away, and her sun-exposed skin color is not much different from the color of the Ferrari.

　　Standing next to her was a housekeeper in black, pale, serious and old-fashioned, silently holding a newspaper with her photo on it for her. Facing the grimace photo, she just raised her right eyebrow and shrugged exaggeratedly like a foreigner: "You came here just to deliver newspapers to me?"

　　"I'm here to inform you that your brother is very unhappy when he sees this photo. Please return to Gongzhou as soon as possible."

　　"With my brother's behavior, when he sees this news about me, he will only think that I have brought glory to the family."

　　"Please tell him personally."

　　Thinking of her brother calling her with a straight face, goosebumps all over her body stood in line. She gritted her teeth and said, "He knows very well that the reason why I dated this person is because the women around him are like running water, but... He will never let me fall in love. He is the most straight man in the world! I just want him to see that I am no longer a little girl!"

　　"Please tell him personally."

　　She wanted to punch the repeater in the face, but she endured it and waved to the newspaper: "Tell him I'm writing my doctoral thesis and don't have time."

　　"Mr. Xie said that if you insist not to go back, let me give this to you." The butler handed over another envelope.

　　"What's this?"

　　"Photos of your blind date."

　　"Blind date? Are you kidding? My brother wants me to go on a blind date? Doesn't he think I'm only thirteen years old? Doesn't he think I'll give birth to septuplets if I talk to a man?"

　　"That's because Mr. Xie said that the man he wants to mate with must be of the highest quality."

　　"The one with the highest quality?" She slowly pulled out the photo and looked at him with distrust, "Who is it?"

　　"Miss, please take a look first."

　　After taking a look at the photo inside, she blinked, put the photo back into the envelope, and then pulled it out. Her sunglasses flashed in the sunlight, and she sneered: "Are you kidding me?"

　　The other person just smiled. She stretched out, looking as if she was about to be roasted and ascended to heaven. She said, "Ask me to go on a blind date with this man? As soon as I saw the look in this man's eyes, I knew that no matter which woman got close to her, she would either be hit or tortured. You have to be covered in bruises, right?”

　　"so what?"

　　"So, book me a flight back to Gongzhou." She pushed her sunglasses down a little, revealing her big eyes, and spoke one word in a perfect circle with her mouth, "Now."

　　Her brother was too reliable and she wrongly blamed him. She looked at the photos a few more times and found that she couldn't get enough of them no matter how much she looked at them. He is obviously a man with handsome features, and his face is expressionless, but it always gives people the illusion of a slight frown. She married this man because of his distant and regal temperament.

　　The housekeeper also saw her satisfaction and smiled slightly: "It seems that the lady is quite satisfied with Mr. He."

　　"His surname is He?" Xie Xinqi straightened her back.

　　"Yes, miss, didn't you even look at his name?"

　　Seeing the housekeeper making a flipping motion in a book, Xie Xinqi turned the photo over and saw a single English word below:

　　King

　　Her hands shook and she almost dropped the photo: "...Oh my God."

[pontevoix]

how long have you been awake? * higu to shoko. from | @deiikara

in  retrospect,  her  childhood  home  had  been  large  logistically  -  her  bedroom  had  been  large,  almost  western.  &  yet,  it  felt  loud  &  cluttered  in  the  way  that  her  parents  argued,  in  the  way  the  way  her  grandfather  kept  the  television  rumbling  between  the  hours  of  9-12,  4-8.  her  home  felt  loud  in  the  way  that  privacy  was  presented  as  an  idea  &  was  distorted  by  interwoven  voices.  in  her  family  home,  privacy  was  nothing  preserved.  she  could  keep  to  herself.  at  the  same  time,  she  could  be  raw-wire  exposed.

maybe  it’s  because  of  that,  because  of  the  way  she  carried  distorted  privacy  to  high  school  that  shoko  doesn’t  disguise  herself  much  anymore.  sometimes  dead  curiosity  pushes  little  lies  from  her  lips,  but  the  lies  aren’t  intricate  —  they  aren’t  persuasive.

shoko  doesn’t  lie  to  hide  pieces  of  herself.  &  she  doesn’t  see  much  use  of  disguising  elements  of  herself  —  it  all  comes  out,  anyway.  the  body  reveals  all,  &

she  doesn’t  see  much  use  of  disguising  herself.  when  she’s  tired,  she  doesn’t  like  to  heal  her  brain  of  sleep  deprivation  the  way  that  gojo  does.  when  she  drinks,  she  doesn’t  even  like  to  address  the  toxins  that  she  consumes.  it’s  a  type  of  accountability.

sometimes  she  does  what  she  does  not  like.

for  now,  something  wry  curls  at  the  end  of  her  lips.  she  presses  the  pad  of  her  index  finger  against  of  her  temple  (  out  of  ritual  )  &  shifts  through  the  hurts  that  alcohol  has  turned  on  her  neurochemistry.  she  heals  &  sobers  herself.

the  night  is  young.  she  has  indulged  in  some  drink  —  to  celebrate  the  accomplishments  of  people  like  higuruma,  people  who  had  finished  final  exams  or  internships  or  whatever.  it’s  a  big  night.  she  sits  outside  with  a  nicotine  stick  between  her  fingers.  her  classmates  crowd  the  bar  inside.

the  night  is  young.  she  hasn’t  had  enough  for  it  to  be  a  problem.  what's more (to  be  honest),  she  hasn’t  deprived  herself  of  sleep  long  enough  that  it  might  be  a  problem.

still,  higuruma  perches  himself  next  to  her  &  teases  her  -  his  seat  is  a  strange  looking  western-looking  rocking  chair.  it’s  strange  furniture  for  the  outdoors.  undoubtedly,  it  had  been  chosen  by  the  venue  because  it  looked  quaint  &  thematic.  higurama  looks  quaint  &  thematic on  his  seat  there.  he  looks  older  there.

shoko  wiggles  her  fingers  at  him  in  greeting  &  brings  her  fingers  to  tap  a  rhythm  at  the  bags  beneath  her  eyes.  it’s  a  percussive  little  beat  that  she  drums.  in  hindsight,  shoko  is  sure  that  it’ll  only  hurt  her  skin.

but  —-  she  supposes  that  she  looks  tired.

she  always  looks  tired.  she  tilts  her  head  to  cup  her  cheek  in  her  hand,  to  gauge  higuruma.  they  share  a  private  joke  when  they  ask  about  one  another’s  sleep  deprivation.

‘  ten  years,  obviously.  you  understand  ?  ‘

because  he’s  brilliant  —  he’s  older  than  she  is,  &  he’s  brilliant.  he’s  got  bags  beneath  his  eyes  too.  shoko  doubts  that  she  can  guess  the  last  time  he  slept  properly,  before  all  of  this  celebration  &  camaraderie.  she  doubts  that  he  can  guess  either,  but  she  might  guess  that  he  would  guess  precisely  eleven  years  since  he’s  slept.

.  .  .  technically,  she  could  heal  parts  of  him.  the  exhausted  parts.

it’s  a  personal  policy  to  refrain  from  doing  so.  especially  since  his  body  is  unaccustomed  to  that.

instead,  shoko  claps  him  on  the  shoulder  &  breathes  a  laugh  into  the  night  sky.  it  fogs  the  air  in  front  of  her,  &  still  -  the  bar  behind  them  bustles  with  life.  in  front  of  them,  taxi  cabs  &  pedestrian  protests  litter  the  street.

‘  maybe  you’ll  start  with  more  regular  hours  after  tonight,  hm  ?  congratulations.  you’ve  aged  terribly.  ‘

she  means  little  that  she  says,  but  still  —

congratulations.

[starsxblazing]

Pushing the Limits (Part 4)

a/n: I am really, really bad with summaries so they'll probably be left out

Azriel x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

------

You had left right before the sun began its ascent in the sky, enjoying the feeling of the wind in your hair as you replayed Azriel’s words from the night before. It was an assumption on your part to think that the disdain between the two of you didn’t run that deep but evidently it did. You thought all of them through a million times, trying to figure out why you going on this mission affected him so badly. Your mouth did tend to get you in trouble but you knew that the issues at hand had to be handled carefully.

Even though the words were meant to play on any insecurities that you may have that no one knew about, you didn’t stoop down to his level. You knew that the family didn’t see you as a burden, especially since Feyre had thanked you many times for being Nesta’s friend. The skills that you had weren’t in any way close to the Illyrians’ in the family but you still had your own abilities that could give you the upper hand when needed. You weren’t foolish enough to think that you couldn’t be beaten because there was always someone stronger and more skilled than you.

You had every intention of mixing your persuasive charm with your more stern nature and it was exactly what you did. By the time that the week was over, you had done exactly that. The camp was nowhere close to what Rhysand wanted it to be but you saw a hint of progress. Once you got to the river house with Cassian striding in behind you, you found Amren, Feyre, and Rhysand in the office, the latter appearing hopeful.

“Did you give them hell, girl?” Amren asked with an amused smirk.

“She did great,” Cassian chuckled as he took a seat beside you. “Where’s Az?”

“On a mission.” The High Lord’s eyes never moved from you, obviously extremely eager to hear what had transpired. “Are you going to keep us all waiting?”

“You Illyrians really are the biggest babies,” you snickered. “It went as well as what I assume could be expected.”

“She doesn't give herself enough credit,” Cassian replied, frowning down at you as you shrugged. “We all know that the camps are on edge but she did great with the females and even managed to placate some of the restless, angry soldiers.”

“That’s more progress than we’ve done ever since the war,” Rhys muttered, mostly to himself before looking at you again. 

“Did I mention that she put Devlon in his place more than once?” Cassian laughed at the memory about the demands that you had put up. “He kept brushing her off but she managed her demands that he listen to what she had to say.”

“That’s a feat by itself.” Rhys grinned, obviously happy about what little progress that you had already made. “Perhaps she should be going with you each time if this is the effect that she has.”

“I’ll have a detailed report ready tomorrow from my own account,” you replied, not wanting to be in the spotlight anymore than needed.

You excused yourself, opting to walk back to the House and give yourself time to think. It didn’t feel like you had done a whole lot but since Rhysand was happy, you would be too. Cassian still hadn’t returned so you were forced to take the ten thousand steps. You had expected it to be worse due to what little Nesta had told you. It did take some time because you didn’t want to rush too fast but your legs were burning by the time that you were finally walking through the door.

“Did you really just make it all the way up here?” Nesta asked, her fork frozen in front of her mouth in her shock.

“My legs feel a little bit like jelly but yea,” you chuckled, helping yourself to some food before you had to make the report.

You didn’t eat much since you were already tired but your friend asked about the mission and by the time that you were done with the short run down, you were done with your meal and ready for a hot bath.

Azriel stopped by to see Rhysand to give a small run down of his own mission that had taken him longer than he expected it too. He had to check on two other camps before he could come home but was surprised when his High Lord told him of the small progress in Windhaven. You had already made two trips within a week and a half and you had done more since the war than they had been able to do. Only one incident had occurred but it wasn’t anything too serious. 

The next morning, he was somewhat shocked to see both you and Nesta already in the ring. He had been told that you and Cassian had gotten back late last night so he was expecting you to be one of the last to show up. Instead, you were throwing your dagger at the target, striking it perfectly almost with each throw. 

He knew that he needed to apologize for his harsh words and it only furthered his resolve when you didn’t look in his direction even though Nesta did. There was a small cut on your face that was accompanied by a light bruise on your jaw that had him frowning. When he noticed Nesta’s knowing stare, he turned his attention elsewhere. By the time that your other friends’ and Cassian arrived, you were working on your hand wraps and smirking at the general.

“Thought you would’ve skipped today’s training,” Cassian said nonchalantly, his voice low enough that Azriel had to strain to hear.

“Why?” you asked, a hint of confusion on your face as he watched from his peripheral. “I’ve had a lot worse and it didn’t stop me.”

“Getting attacked by an overgrown bat gives you enough of an excuse,” Nesta scoffed as she glared at you.

“Yea, yea.”

You waved them off with the most genuine nonchalance that he had ever seen from you. He noticed that you were a bit stiff despite the warm ups. By the time that your cool downs were finished, you seemed more at ease and it made him hope that he could apologize without getting verbally assaulted even though he deserved it.

Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off of the marks on your face that he saw were paired with a light bruise on your shoulder that he could barely see peeking out from your shirt as they all ate. Once he noticed that Cassian was staring, he turned his attention to his plate while listening to your and Nesta’s conversation. He noted that you ate less than usual which caused him to grit his teeth, his shadows begging him to let them free to check on you themselves.

He gave you time to bathe, his patience running low due to his nerves once a single shadow escaped him. Following it quickly, he watched it slide under your door so he figured it was as good as time as any. He took a deep breath, swallowing hard before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

With one last deep breath, he opened the door and braced himself for you to scream at him.

[myfandomprompts]

Memorised

Aemond x bestfriend!reader [Modern AU]

Complete low-quality mush. I'm so sorry in advance.

Summary: You and Aemond go way back, and you tell each other everything. Until two nights ago.

Only, he is much better at keeping secrets than you are.

Warning: light mention of aggression ~ 1.8k words

Late Christmas One-Shot for @cyeco13, the sweetest person one can know. Thank you for taking the time to do such wonderful Ewan content and to provide Ewan Nation with beautiful fanarts, personalised or not. I tried to write something to reach your level of kindness but as you'll notice, it didn't even come close.

Hope you'll like it nonetheless, and thank you so much for your arts!

You had no idea how to tell him.

First because you hadn’t really told anyone, not even the guy you were currently seeing, but especially because you knew your best friend, Aemond Targaryen, would get mad.

It wasn’t a big deal, really. You were only walking home from the cinema not two days ago, the moon high up in the sky when that stranger caught up with you in the street with lewd words coming out of his mouth and a firm grip on your shoulder. Everything happened in a blur. He didn't have time to do anything as you already yanked yourself from him and ran away, but the fight had been enough to cause you a sleepless night of dread.

This is why you had precipitated this little gathering with your friends before you all went home for Christmas, because you didn’t want to be alone. Because you needed his reassuring presence.

It went fine, a welcomed distraction as you talked about what each of you had planned for the holidays and introduced Caleb to your group of friends. Both of you had only gone out a few times together but you thought it nice to invite him, and you were pleasantly surprised at how well behaved Aemond had been with him.

For once.

You always took it for protectiveness, but each boyfriend you had, each friend you got closer to, your best friend would have an awful time getting along with them. Aemond Targaryen was calm, composed, and could appear rather intimidating to others at times. But for you he was so much more, the friend that you adored, cherished, whom you trusted. You were convinced you knew all of his layers, all of his secrets that laid beneath the surface of his perfect pale skin and composure, as he knew all of yours. You knew how caring he was of you and how cold he could act if something did not please him.

So the fact that he said more than a few words to Caleb was so encouraging for you. But you didn’t know it was only because Aemond was confident that this time, you would get rid of this one yourself, that he wouldn’t even have to intervene.

Because Aemond Targaryen was helplessly in love with you.

You didn’t know that he was getting with all of these shallow girls only to cope with your incessant habit to pick dull boyfriends for yourself. You didn’t know that your efforts to tolerate those for his sake were pointless, because he didn’t care about any of them but you.

At first, he believed it was only pure attraction, adding to the affection he harboured for you as a friend, all those years besides you, learning to know you, to get you, to see you. He thought he could control it for a time, just a simple chemical reaction in play he could put on mute and remain focused only on your friendship. But then it evolved into something chaotic, obsessive even. Each time you got close to someone, really close, it made his skin crawl. Each time you settled with somebody, he internally convinced himself it wasn’t for long. How could it be? That guy obviously wasn’t for you, he could tell. He knew you. Then before he realised it, he started chasing them off, one by one they went away, and it wasn’t even difficult. Aemond Targaryen was an eloquent man, and if anything, persuasive. All it took was some well aimed words and a cold face and they always ended up walking away. Better they leave you sooner than later, he thought, instead of dragging the joke along and ending up hurting you more.

Because these fools were so unsuited for you.

When his brother once mentioned him as your “personal guard dog” he flinched, thinking that maybe he was not being a good friend for you, keeping you from a happiness he could not consider, without him. But it quickly passed as he decided then and there that he didn’t care, that it was best for you, even if he had to pick you up in pieces each time you asked what was wrong with you, each time he wanted to tell you that he would be there for you.

It was just a matter of time now before he would tell you. Before he would make you see, make you realise.

Maybe after this one. Caleb.

Caleb who gives you an awkward kiss right before you close the door of your flat, waving goodbye to your friends one last time as Aemond stands inside, a wince on his face. His train wasn’t until two hours time, and of course he would spend those last hours with you.

When you come back to your living room, Aemond is already seated on the couch, entranced on his phone, so incredibly focused. He has dropped his scornful expression to replace it with his composed one, shielding himself to you and you can’t help but wonder what he truly thinks.

Because you can tell when your best friend hides things from you, when he keeps it all to himself.

Aemond who had a complicated family situation, an uncaring father and traumatic childhood. Aemond who had to undergo fighting lessons along with his brothers as a child, and who you still saw at the gym sometimes.

“Aemond?” he hums in acknowledgment, not lifting his eye up the screen, but his head turns slightly in your direction. 

“Would you help me with something?” you ask.

“Yes of course. Anything.”

He still hasn't looked up when you say. “Would you teach me how to defend myself?”

He finally looks up, first with a wide eye before his scrunched eyebrow turns it into a slit. “Why? Has something happened?”

“No, I just-”

“Is what’s-his-name bothering you?”

“No, I just thought it would be nice to-”

“I always told you to call me when you walk home alone-”

“I just want to be able to fight back if ever… it happens you know?” you blurt out. “I’m not saying it’s going to, I’m just… anticipating.”

Aemond looks at you, blue eye boring into your own intensely. “If I do, promise you won’t let it go to your head, make you take unnecessary risks. You’ll always find stronger than you.”

“No one is stronger than you, though,” you smile playfully, and the instant upward of his lips makes you relax, confident he won’t push for the reasons of your sudden request. You knew you would give in if ever he did, unable to resist.

“I’m not sure about that,” he says humbly, discarding his phone on the couch. “But why not, I understand the need to be able to fight back. Makes you think more rationally too.”

“Exactly,” you say as you point your finger to him, relieved. You’re glad to have something to look forward to doing with him, to learn new things, to challenge yourself. You trust him completely.

“I could show you some known moves I taught Helaena,” he wonders outloud. “Just enough to disable and run. Nothing more.”

“You taught Helaena but not me?” you add as you try to imagine sweet Helaena hitting someone, the image not quite adding to reality.

Aemond shakes his head lightly. “You’re not the one with an overprotective mother.”

“No, but I’m the one with the very protective best friend,” you point out with a shrug, smiling in his direction.

He stares at you for what feels like a long time, all playfulness gone from his features and you fear you have said the wrong thing for a moment.

Until the twinkle in his eye comes back and you let out a breath.

“If that’s what you think of me, better live up to the title then,” he states as he stands up, turning on himself.. “Get up.”

You look up at him, stunned. “What, you want to do this… now?”

“Why not?” he says with a slightly tilted head, a smile at the corner of his lips. Truth was, he had never passed a chance to get close to you over the years, to get into physical contact with you, to touch you. And there you were, serving him that opportunity on a golden platter, and no patience to refuse it.

When you find no valid argument against this improvised session, you stand up and help him move some furniture around, giving you enough space for both of you to stand on the large carpet of your living room.

“Right, the basics first,” he begins as he takes a step closer to you then wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Someone grabs your arm. What do you do?”

“I… I don’t know?” you say as you tug pointlessly, feeling the pressure of his skin against yours, unable to escape the lock he has on you.

He looks so focused all of a sudden, so lethal that if he wasn’t your best friend, you would have been scared. “You twist your arm, as much as you can. It’ll make them readjust their grip and you’ll be able to escape.”

You try that at once, wiggling yourself to try and make him let go of you. His hold is strong, but when you finally manage, you can see his proud expression on his face as you smile back at him.

“Good, now if I do this.”

He swiftly comes by your side and then his hand is in your hair, taking a fistful of it. You gasp as you feel him tug lightly, waiting for you to react. When you glance at him from the side, you are met with his sufficient smirk as he looks right at you and you feel something tickle in your chest.

“Hum…” you falter as you try to focus on something else than your head leaning back against his hand, feeling him pull harder when you try to turn around. “I would…”

You feel his laugh before hearing it, the heat of his breath fanning on the side of your neck. “No, you can’t turn around. First you lift up your arm…”

You hold your breath as he takes it, easing his grip over your hair at the same time and you find yourself regretting the slight pain he previously elicited there, his touch so gentle now as he brings your arm up to him, bare skin against warm fingers.

“Swing it over mine and push it down. C’mon.”

You do as you're told, feeling the pain in your scalp coming back briefly before you push down your arm, making him let go. He is almost forced to the ground, and when you let go he doesn’t fall, but chuckles lightly as he looks at you with a twinkle in his eye, seeing the blush on your face, and how weirdly out of breath you seem.

“Quick learner. Good, now let's see how you react to this.”

Without warning, he merges into your back and wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you against his chest. There is nothing violent/brutal about it, only the pressure of your back against his chest and the gap that separates your collarbone from his bicep. You suck on your breath at the sudden movement, reaching instantly for his forearm for balance.

His hair is mingling with yours, his breath is on your cheek. “C’mon, follow your instinct. What would you do in this situation?”

Aemond knows perfectly well that he had burned several steps, that there was no need to use that stunt so early, but he couldn’t resist. He liked how flushed you were the second he got close to you, liked how your face became slightly red as he praised you, and now he was curious. Curious to know how far he could take this, if you would writhe against him, struggle. He loved how tense your muscles were and how soft your skin was under him at the same time.

His scent reaches your nose and you discover that you would be unable to answer him even if you wanted to, your senses taken away from you. So instead you rack your brain to find a solution, calling out to every cell of your body to conjure something in order to counter him.

But all you manage is swing your arm in the air and kick him lightly in the ribs, barely eliciting a reaction from him as you begin to panic.

“Not very conclusive, love,” he speaks softly, stopping your unskilled movements with a gentle hand. “I guess I’ll have to show you that one first.”

You swallow at that pet name, only to find out that your throat is already very dry. There were times where Aemond had called you ‘love’ in the past, but those times were so rare and unexpected you had wondered if he had even realised saying it. If he had even meant to.

It makes your lungs momentarily stop working.

You finally seem able to breathe when he steps away, only to feel your heart take up the pace when he brings your arms around his own neck gently and pushes your hips to make you position behind him. It’s so brief it leaves a cold burn over your flesh.

He is so tall his shoulder blades are centimetres from your face, his long hair tickling your nose. They smell so nice as he walks you through his movements, first pushing your hands down, locking them, turning his head slightly before pushing you down with him and pivoting to steady one leg behind yours, your hips locking together. Then his hands suddenly reach behind your knees and you're yanked off the ground. He is now on top of you, immobilising one of your arms and smiling down at you with that satisfied grin of his.

You barely have time to let out a huff of surprise, your back touching the soft material of the rug beneath you as he holds you into place, leaving little to no room to move. “You’re heavier than you look.”

His annoyingly beautiful expression wakes something in you, and you weakly attempt to struggle away from him, only to have him grab both your wrists and pin them above your head with a tutting sound.

You feel helpless, completely overthrown, his weight over you making you scared to move. Nothing in your brain is computing  as he grins down at you and you don’t even try to struggle anymore, instead trying to settle your breath. “I-I don’t think I can reproduce that one.”

Your stammer makes him laugh. “I don’t think there’s anything you won’t be able to manage.”

You don’t understand why your heart is beating so fast, but it’s exhilarating, so very much so. “We can’t all be good at everything that we do. I’m not like you…”

The pressure lifts off over one of your wrists, but does not disappear completely. You see his eye widen for a bit before settling down, his grin disappearing from his face, his expression softening. Behind his blue iris you witness something pass underneath, something deep.

Almost like sadness.

“What is it?” you ask, his weight over you forgotten, now aware of how he hovers over you so gently, almost caring compared to the way he holds you on the ground.

“Nothing,” he says, trying a smile.

But you don’t buy it. “Aemond, tell me what’s wrong.”

He shakes his head slightly, teeth digging into his lower lip, his gaze now escaping your worried one to look over your form, to look where his finger now travels down your arm. You wonder if he is even conscious of doing it. “It’s just… It isn’t like I had imagined it.”

Your hands are tingly where he rests his over the pulse of your wrists, over the thin skin of your inner arm, and you feel your skin burn where his eye looks, from your ear to your collarbone, then lower. Never meeting your gaze. “I-imagined what?”

His eye shot up at yours, so blue and soft, so familiar. He exhales, a small controlled sigh coming out of his lips as his fingers move to caress the length of your arm, his eye following the movement like in a trance. “That it would be how I would have you beneath me, all… soft and pretty like that. Mellow for me.”

You don’t understand anything of what is happening, your mind is overwhelmed and it’s like your body takes over, as if it understands so much more than your messy brain.

Suddenly it's him: his heat, his weight over you, gently crushing you, his eye devouring you, his gaze almost tantalising as every cell of your skin reacts to him.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he continues, voice so low and sorrowful, almost a whisper. “Not… you trying to fight me off.”

His eye is lost somewhere between your neck and your hair where you feel him graze them absentmindedly. But then his hands lift from it, leave your skin, his weight becomes lighter over your hips and you want to scream.

Your hand grabbed for his, stopping him from lifting himself up, from leaving you. “But I’m not… fighting you off right now.”

He smiles again and this time it is mild, genuine and you think your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His lips are so perfect, you want them to talk again, to do something, anything.

He leans closer and you have no idea what to do than hold on to him, your breath caught in your lungs. 

“I wanted to have you all for myself, to be able to touch you all over, to apply my knowledge of every shape and curve I’ve been admiring from afar,” he starts, voice so terribly low as he applies pressure on your arm again. “I wanted to memorise every inch of it, every parcel I didn’t have access to all this time with my hands, with my lips, and see if you would make the sounds you do when you’re in my dreams. I wanted to touch every mark, every shiver like it was my own…”

Your muscles are liquid, your skin is on fire, already ablaze with anticipation of all the sweet promises that roll off his tongue.

“I wanted you to want it, to welcome it, to ask for it…” His hands had abandoned your arms and neck, his thumb now reaching for your lower lip and you don’t dare to blink, dizzy as his thumb presses gently on the soft flesh of it. “I wanted to start there.”

There is nothing else, no one else but him. No air, no oxygen, and you’re transfixed by the way he looks, so perfect, slightly out of breath, his eye examining your lip, your cheek, your eyes like it was the most precious of things. You’re hypnotised by how he looks at you. Ignited by his hand on your cheek, on your hair, on your lip, hating the distance separating you.

He asks for it, for your permission through his eye, and you almost hate him for asking, hate him for not taking what has been his for such a long time.

His gaze flutter and it’s just air that separates you, then nothing. His lips are like flames, his mouth like a bonfire and his touch so tender, so cruelly tender. You are separate from your body until you feel the pressure of his hands on your neck, on your waist, on your hips. Until you reach for his hair and his back, craving for more.

And you wished oxygen wasn’t a necessity when you are forced to part, his eye lashes brushing your cheek, your jaw, the column of your throat as he holds his promise.

He is learning everything with his lips.

“Please, stay here tonight… Don’t go home.”

He exhales on your skin, making you wriggle under him, so burning. Just him.

His smirk has come back, so enticing, so attractive, so beautiful as cups your cheek tenderly and looks at you so intensely. “My home is here.”

Thank you @arcielee, I swear to serve you and try not to be so distracting in the future. 💙

All Aemond works taglist: @watercolorskyy

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Twisted Tarot VIII — Strength

"Strong people stand up for themselves, but stronger people stand up for others.”

Strength, Upright: strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion

Strength, Reversed: inner strength, self-doubt, low energy, raw emotion

He is strong in every sense of the word, boasting both physical and mental fortitude. During moments of danger and distress, he displays his inner strength and compassion, choosing to stand for what is right over what is easy. When the world stands against him, he will bear his fangs against the world, lending his strength to pursue a righteous path.

Reveal the Shape of thy Soul...

... Jack Howl!

All his life, he had heard these words: “Jack is such a good boy. He always listens to his parents and doesn’t stray from the path.”

And indeed, it was the truth.

If a task or an errand needed to be done, he’d do it. If a classmate was being bullied, Jack was the first to stand up for them. If an injustice existed, he would call it out. It was simply how he was, gravitating to those in need of help while wearing a slight scowl and sighing gruffly.

But as much as he huffed and puffed, he’d lend a helping hand anyway. He couldn’t help it, he was just good—and that was how he wanted the world to be, all shifting in accordance with the same moral compass.

“You’re such a good boy, Jack. Too good, in fact,” his dorm leader purred, slowly circling his junior like a shark. Those familiar words, set in his velvety voice, felt dishonest.

Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating the high points of their faces as they followed each other. Teeth gnashing, eyes burning furiously. Predators sizing each other up.

Ruggie snickered quietly as he observed them.

Of the two, the lion struck first.

“Good boys like you should just keep their traps shut.”

“What you’re doing is wrong, Leona-senpai!” Jack protested. His entire body tensed, as if preparing for a fight--but all he did was glare at his dorm leader. “This... This definitely isn’t right. You need to stop this!!”

“Are you listening to yourself? Right? Wrong?” Leona scoffed. “The world isn’t as black and white as you make it out to be, first year.”

“But...”

“You would rather condemn your dormmates?” Leona challenged, cutting him off. “Many them are relying on the outcome of this tournament for their careers. You want to be the one to look them in the face and tell them they have no futures anymore? They all know what needs to be done to secure a future littered with prizes.”

“Even so...! I just can’t stand by your methods. They’re too underhanded!!”

“Underhanded?” Ruggie chortled. “Man, you’re so cute I could almost cry. Nice guys like you won’t last long at NRC~”

“You’re a doe-eyed fool if you think fair play will get you far in this lifetime,” Leona added with a smirk. “If you’re not willing to hunt and to fight for your spot in the circle of life, then you’ll burn out like a star. That’s how it works around here.”

“Nghh...!!” Jack clenched his jaw, biting back the torrent of choice words he wanted to unleash--many of them repetitive, phrases dismissed as ‘a moral superiority complex’ by his seniors. Frustration bubbled deep within him.

Was there truly nothing he could do? Nothing he could say to reverse this fortune?

“Awww, what’s wrong?” Ruggie teased, a lazy grin overtaking his face. “Cat got your tongue? Well... Maybe if Leona-san was the cat!”

The lion laughed cruelly, and the sky and the ceiling seemed to shake--but it didn’t take long for the laugh to turn into a snarl. “Enough of this. Tuck your tail between your legs and get out of my sight.”

The wolf beastman’s hands balled.

In wisdom, in power, in seniority--Ruggie and Leona surpassed him on all levels. They were leaders in the pack, and Jack? Just a newborn.

“... Yes, sir. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Hmph. You’d better be.”

Jack bolted out like a swift wind upon the night.

Damn it.

Damn it all...!

He slammed a fist into the wall. His bones and muscles screeched in agony, burning just as his insides were. 

A hiss of pain escaped through his teeth, and he cradled his hand in the other. Adrenaline somewhat dulled and tempered the feeling, but anger sharpened it. Jack kept it close to his chest, and the hand grew even more hot.

The moon shone its spotlight on him in the darkness, his shadow stretching along the walkway to his room. Most nights, he thought the quiet and the stillness comforting. Today, it was near suffocating, and the light, accusatory.

Was he to just stand by, to remain silent?

Down the silver-painted and path he wandered, gradually slowing as he neared his destination. That single though permeated every pore of his brain, dominating his thoughts.

“... Good boys keep their traps shut, huh?” Jack raised his head to the moon, seeking the answer to his question but expecting no response.

Its glow and guidance were steady all throughout the evening. A shimmering, splendid orb, an all-seeing, all-knowing eye suspended in the sky.

Revealing all manner of truths in Twisted Wonderland.

The moon did not discern between good and evil, nor right and wrong. It only exposed what was there.

Jack’s resolve reinvigorated.

... He knew what he had to do.

[admiringlove]

things you shouldn’t have said

+synopsis: hq boys and the things they shouldn’t have said.

+genre: headcanons; angst.

+characters: sakusa kiyoomi, kozume kenma, hinata shōyō, kita shinsuke.

+warnings: angst; just sadness overall.

+author’s notes: i was a little sad so i wrote this, and tbh i think hinata is a little ooc but hnghh i can’t imagine him genuinely angry :// but i loved hurting myself with the kita one :D

+navigation: main menu, hq menu. 

— SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“my life was better without you in it.”

this was all so sudden.

it wasn't supposed to happen like this; the way he screams at you makes your ears ring, your body trembles, and your eyes water, and you stand there as he points his finger at you and blames you for most of the things going wrong. he says it in such a persuasive tone that you do end up believing him—maybe it was you. maybe it was you that ruined what little you had left with the love of your life by asking for too much. maybe you shouldn't have asked him to stay with you for the weekend instead of going out for extra practice, and maybe you should've been more understanding when he says he can't spend more time with you.

he seethes, his hair falling fluffily over his forehead just like the first time you met him back in high school. only now, he isn't wearing a mask and looking at you with a somehow interesting smile. he looks at you with hatred, and he spills harsh words to you. you sigh, listening to him and taking in every word he says. it hurts, sure it does, but you saw it coming. you don't think he sees your tears when he turns around and runs his hand through his hair while mumbling, "my life was better without you in it."

you're taken aback now. all these years have gone by and still, somehow you couldn't get sakusa kiyoomi to love you. you smile dolorously, a stray tear falling from your eye, as you get up from the couch and you head to the shared bedroom. he doesn't follow behind you—instead, choosing to look at the dark sky outside the window. his lashes are long, fluttering ever so often as his chest rises and falls.

only when he hears the front door close is when he looks back, the empty living room staring back at him. he sighs, and for the first time in years he doesn't know why there's a lump at the back of his throat. maybe he was too harsh on you, but his anger was justified, right? he had an important game coming up this weekend, you should've understood that instead of asking him to spend time with you every single day.

shuffling into the bedroom, he closes his eyes as he falls into the bed and falls asleep. in the morning, he'd apologize for being so rude to you. but for now, he hopes to sleep it off until you get back.

that's just it, isn't it? you did leave him alone. because he never saw you after that night, and even if he did, it was only a ghost of your shell. you were there for a split second, and then you weren't. he saw you in your usual seat at the match then he didn't—he missed his spike while looking for you that time. he sees you everywhere, from the coffee cup you gifted to him on your second anniversary, to the photo frame on the bedside table to the toothbrush stand on the bathroom counter.

now he understands that he wronged you, but he can't change it back can he? if he could, he'd go back in time in an instant and stop himself from saying everything, but he can't. so he sits there, on the same couch you sat while he yelled at you, and chuckles to himself dryly as he looks out the window once again, watching the night sky.

— KOZUME KENMA.

“you’re nothing but a bother.”

it all started with, "hey, got a moment?"

you want to almost laugh at yourself as you stand there, going back and forth from one argument to the other. from the time you accidentally walked in on his stream because he didn't tell you he was starting it, to the time where you left him food in the kitchen and it was left untouched. all because you were coming to ask him when he's coming to sleep.

it's a mess. everything is. you don't know when you start to cry, your voice cracks and your hand reaches to wipe the tears off almost subconsciously—you still don't understand what's happening. it's all a blur, him sitting at his desk with his hands in his hair as he argues with you and brings up almost every little thing that makes you insecure, you standing by the doorway as hiccups escape your mouth with counter-arguments to his.

and the last string in you seemed to snap, because his words cut like scissors through them, "you're nothing but a bother."

why was everything happening so fast? why were you in your car, when you were supposed to be peacefully sleeping with him, as the two of you held on tightly to one another? the cool air from the air conditioner was supposed to make you hold him closer to you, and he'd sleepily pull the duvet over your necks, nuzzling himself into your neck. it was supposed to be sleepy smiles, comfortable warmth, and tangled legs. not cool wind flowing through the open window of your car as you accelerated ten kilometers over the speed limit.

and him? he wouldn't be sitting at his chair right now, either. he'd be with you, so why did he shrug you off like he just did? maybe it was stress, or maybe it was all the little things building up as they did over the past months. he walks out, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as he pulls out his phone to call you.

you don't answer, and he stares at the porcelain ceiling all night as the same cold air conditioner makes him feel like he could choke any second. you were supposed to be with him, under the blankets and in a peaceful slumber. so where did it all go wrong? why didn't you come home the next day or the day after that one?

— HINATA SHŌYŌ.

“why can’t you just leave me alone?”

it hurt.

the way he said those words hurt. he was tired, right? you shouldn't have pried—shouldn't have asked how practice had gone or urged him to eat the dinner you had prepared for him. you shouldn't have told him to freshen up so you could eat together and discuss your days like you always did. why was it so hard now? why wasn't it easy like it was, back in college or high school? why was managing your schedules harder when you were adults and worked jobs of your own?

in school, you helped kiyoko and yachi with managing the team. and in college, hinata and you decided to move into an apartment of your own, working in complete tandem when together. it was like you knew where his heart was, where he kept it and where it stayed. but now? whenever you looked at him, it felt like only emptiness stared back at you in return.

"shō, would you like to have dinner now or do you want to freshen up?" was all you'd said. a little affection was all it took to break the bond that was once so strong, so full of love and promises. he started and he didn't stop. he threw his duffel bag onto the coffee table and kept walking around the living room, spewing words that struck like a spear in your heart.

you stayed quiet for most of it, hiding behind the kitchen counter as you slowly readied his plate while listening to his frustrations—you'd made a mental note of drawing him a bath later so he could relax or watch movies and fall asleep together as you did on the weekends, but you froze when he said, "and you. you're one of my biggest problems."

"what do you mean? i only asked if you wanted dinner!" you narrowed your eyes at him, as he rolled his own as he replied, "why can't you just leave me alone? it's not like i have to always be smothered by you."

you were taken aback; in all these years of being with one another, so full of passion and love, not once had the two of you said things like that to one another. you stopped completely now, letting go of the spatula in your hand and the saucepan in the other. you didn't care that tears were streaming down your face anymore, you didn't care that he was telling you to stop as you stormed to your bedroom, and you didn't care that you could hear him choke back a sob as you slid down the door, arms hugging your knees as you let out a shaky sigh.

he'd been holding it all in for way too long, hadn't he?

— KITA SHINSUKE.

“i don’t feel the same way i did for you back when i was a teenager.”

sometimes it felt like all the two of you did was argue with one another anymore. running around in circles with your problems, not knowing what exactly it is but chasing after it anyway—why were you two having more fights than actual conversations? why didn't you know what to say? you didn't want to complicate everything you had, but how come the thought of separating your path with kita crossed your mind more than it should? why was it that when everything was better you had hoped that your relationship with kita would remain painless?

it used to be so pure; reckless yet full of affection. blushes and smiles being exchanged as you walk the streets of hyōgo. it wasn't fair—nothing was. it was supposed to be him and you. he'd made a piece of your heart his own, and he was supposed to be yours till the very end of time. even when the two of you were old and senile, with wrinkles littering your face as you squabbled on your porch, drinking the afternoon tea and watching children play amongst themselves.

you weren't supposed to be alone in the middle of the night on your balcony, not being able to tell the difference between raindrops and tears as you stared at the sky weep down on you. you were supposed to marry him and start a whole new life together, but why did it feel wrong?

"i don't feel the same way i did for you back when i was a teenager," he had said, fingers bridged on his nose. but why didn't he? you felt the same, so why couldn't he? why did you still long for him? were you even sure that you wanted to stay with him until you were ninety and wrinkled? so many years would go to waste, so many years spent hand-in-hand with perfect kita shinsuke would go to waste.

high school years spent in this very family home, studying together and watching his grandmother send little teases towards the two of you—sprouting something about young love and how you were perfect for one another. weeks spent in the volleyball gym helping him hone his skills and help his team practice.

college days spent video-calling one another every single day before you slept because you were in tokyo and he was back here. the "i love you's" you shared right before sending a kiss to each other before you fell into a deep slumber, pretending to be in his arms(instead of the pillow you hugged tightly). summers when you ran into his arms right after stepping off the bullet train, him spinning you around and pulling you into a deep kiss right after he puts you down.

and now? when you've finally settled? early days when you two ate dinner together—you telling him about your day at work and him smiling at you like you were the most precious star in the cosmos. wandering down aisles in grocery stores, picking out the ingredients needed to cook for the next month(you'd persuade him into buying drinks or junk food). the way he pulled you into his chest at night, running a hand through your hair to help you sleep. and you waking him up with a fresh cup of tea and breakfast.

where had all the love gone?

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[sailxrmxrs]

i wanted to write something soft and self-indulgent with xyx because i'm a writer and i'm allowed to do lowkey self-inserts if i want to. if you can't write something for your brain's serotonin levels then what can you write for? loosely inspired by a high school musical marathon that reminded me just how adorable the can i have this dance scene is from the third one. also mixed with some of my own personal experiences for the vibes. enjoy some incredibly soft rom-com boyfriend xyx being his best romantic self on a rooftop garden.

Saturdays were, undoubtedly, one of your favourite days of the week. There was no going to work, nor was there the looming threat of further work in the oncoming day. It was the day to spend an extra hour in bed after staying up a little later than usual. It was the day to finally get around to whatever chores or tasks that needed doing. But, most importantly, it was also the day Xyx didn't have to go into the office, meaning the pair of you could plan almost anything at your disposal. Whether that be going out for an extravagant date or staying in with Cat, whatever the plans may be, you were guaranteed to spend the afternoon basking in the other's company. Today was no different, Xyx lounging in sweatpants and an old t-shirt with Cat sitting on his lap and your feet resting on either side of Cat. The morning had passed by slowly, nothing of note planned after the long week left you both feeling all kinds of drained and exhausted. All you needed was a peaceful day of doing nothing in the other's company.

Being early spring meant it was still that little bit too cold for some of Xyx's more adrenaline-boosting activities. So, naturally, you'd both agreed upon a comfy day at home in the warmth. Outside, clouds peppered the blue midday sky, stretching over the expanse of the city beyond your apartment windows. You and Xyx had moved into the apartment building recently, your first endeavour into living with one another since you started dating. It had been going well, the bliss of the relationship still glittering in the sheen of the new apartment. Each morning you woke up to Xyx's face blemished with the tiredness that the early hours brought with them, Cat laying by your feet curled up and content atop the blanket bought especially for them. There was no greater existence imaginable. Nor could you barely remember a time before the insatiable happiness that was being with Xyx. Even now, sitting in silence scrolling on your phones, perhaps speaking or laughing when one sends a funny tweet or video they saw to the other, brought about a distinct sense of bliss that was entirely unique and exclusive to the bond you both shared.

Xyx sighed heavily, his phone now on his lap as he threw his head back on the sofa, closing his eyes as he did so.

"You good over there, love?" You ask, looking up at the exasperation with which your boyfriend radiated.

"Yeah. Just bored."

Moving your legs from Xyx's lap, you shifted over to sit beside him, raising a hand to push his hair back from his forehead. "Oh, you poor baby. Whatever can I do to cure you of this ailment?"

"You joke but can we actually do something?" Xyx looked up, wide eyes and a slight pout in the hopes it's sway your decision further. Not that he really needed it, most of Xyx's requests were met with happy acceptance. But it was still sweet to see him try a little extra softness as a persuasive technique.

"Got something in mind?" You ask, watching his face light up as you nod. His answering grin sent a wave of wariness through you, memories of some of Xyx's past ideas flooding your mind. "Nothing dangerous or too wild, please. I'd rather not have to take a trip to the hospital this afternoon."

"You're no fun," Xyx teased as he gently moved Cat from his lap so that he could stand up, holding out a hand for you. "No hospitals, no injuries. Promise. Now, do you trust me?"

"Regrettably, yes," were your only words as you took Xyx's hands and followed him in his master plan to relieve himself of the boredom that had overcome him. Expecting him to lead you down to your car for a spontaneous trip out for food or to see a movie, you happily let Xyx take the lead. Though, much to your surprise, when the elevator approached and the two of you stepped in, Xyx chose a different course. Any questions were met with teasing remarks to wait and see because how could he ruin the surprise already? Entirely in character and aligned with his usual ways. Xyx being secretive like this typically meant he either had something in mind that where safety was an afterthought, not a concern, or he was planning something exceptionally sweet and romantic that felt like it was lifted from the pages of a romance novel. And, of course, he would never specify which option was about to take place, only deepening the apprehension. Though, even if the former were to come true, you knew deep down you'd never get bored with Xyx.

Eyeing Xyx with suspicion, you folded your arms across your chest. "Are you sure this isn't some plot to get rid of me so you get Cat all to yourself again?"

Xyx's laugh resonated in the elevator, its slow ascent soon approaching its destination. "No ulterior motives, doll. Although now that you mention it, maybe it's not a bad idea aft-hey!" He complained, recoiling from your playful, but strong, poke to his chest. Before you could dispute his claims, the elevator reached a stop and its doors opened, revealing an empty corridor save for a small set of stairs leading to a doorway at its peak. Xyx stepped out, gesturing for you to follow as he began to climb the stairs.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be up here? Doesn't that door lead out onto the roof?"

"If we get caught, it'll just make for the perfect action movie leap off the edge as we leap onto the building next door. Come on, I've got something to show you." Xyx held his hand out once more, his expression genuine and painted with a sincerity he often didn't let show unless the moment truly called for it. Recognising the urge within him, you accepted his hand once more and ascended the small staircase. Once at the top, Xyx instructs you to close your eyes to truly 'savour the surprise', as he put it. The doors open and a rush of cool spring air dances over your face. Your eyes remain closed as Xyx leads you out further into the gentle breeze that brushed the bare skin of your arms, suddenly making you very acute to the fact that perhaps your state of dress wasn't the most appropriate for fighting the elements. Still, there was no changing it now and Xyx certainly didn't care about the slight chill in the air.

"Okay. Now, open your eyes," he instructed from a few paces away, hands gesturing to the rooftop. Looking around, your eyes adjusted the light, uncovering a garden spread atop the roof of the apartment building. There was enough empty space to provide an expansive walkway between large plant beds, small trees and flowerpots. The breeze swept through leaves, sounds of rustling nature a complete juxtaposition from the distant sound of cars and people going about the city below. The clouds filtered the sun's light, casting a dulled film over the view.

"I didn't even know there was anything up here," you mused, taking a few absentminded steps, fingers lightly touching a nearby plant. A pair of arms slid around your waist, holding you tightly against Xyx's chest. "How did you know this was all up here?"

"Oh now come on, love, I could never divulge my secrets like that, could I?" His hands came to clasp onto yours, guiding you to turn around in his arms. "Now, the reason why I brought you up here." He released his hold on your hands and jogged toward the centre of the rooftop garden, sweeping an exaggerated curtsey.

"What on earth are you doing? Aren't the men supposed to bow anyway?" You laughed, watching his face twist in feigned offence.

"If a man wishes to curtsey, he may curtsey. Anyway, unimportant. Might I have this dance?" Xyx asked, waiting for you to accept the offer and join him on the makeshift dancefloor. Matching his dramatic curtsey, you moved closer, letting Xyx take the lead as he started to waltz atop the rooftop. His hand was firm on your waist, guiding you in clumsy steps about all the plants and greenery.

"Aren't you supposed to play music when you dance?" You asked, laughing as Xyx released his grip on your waist to twirl you around, pulling you in again closer; his hand returned to its spot on your waist, sliding ever so slightly lower to your hips.

He leaned in close, whispering in your ear. "Where's your imagination, doll? Close your eyes. It's a ballroom and we're dressed all fancy. All eyes on us, got it?"

Eyes now closed once more, you nodded, imagining the scene before opening your eyes to Xyx ever closer.

"Hi," you whispered, despite being the only ones around. Even now, his mere presence still sent an unshakeable fluttering through your stomach. His effect was near intoxicating. Hours could be spent lost inside his deep green eyes. Not without sufficient teasing, of course, but that was simply another of Xyx's charms and reasons why you adored him so. Your dance had become a gentle sway with no specific rhythm to it. You were simply two bodies basking in the other's presence under the clouded cover of the sky. Though the peace was soon shattered by a few droplets of rain splashing specks onto your faces. Looking up to the sky, it became very apparent there was far more where that came from. The previously pale grey had turned murky, permeating the sky in darkness. Raindrops fell heavier and faster, soon coating the light grey of the rooftop.

Xyx tipped his head back forward to gaze at you, an eyebrow raised. "Why not stop now, right, love?" And so you danced together in the rain, clothes and hair soon soaked through. Despite the cold sinking under your skin, there was no desire to shatter the sweet moment—a snapshot from a romance film you'd once watched together. Xyx held you in close, nose brushing yours as he smiled so deeply and genuinely. It was one of those smiles that assured you of all the emotions he so often kept hidden inside. Seeing him look so softly vulnerable spoke a thousand and one words, all directly pouring from Xyx's heart into yours through that iron-clad grip your gazes shared. He shifted his face ever closer, letting you close the gap between your rain decorated lips, the initial touch sparked by cold than soon dissipated into a shared warmth. Your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck while Xyx's hands were firm on your lower back with zero intentions of letting you out into the cold rain anymore than you needed to be.

"Dancing and sharing a kiss in the rain? I do think we've checked two things off the bucket list there, love." Xyx mused, pressing his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes in contented bliss.

"I didn't realise you had a list," you commented, fingers absentmindedly threading in his hair.

"Only since I met you. Told you I'd gone soft, didn't I, doll?"

You leaned back inquisitively, eyeing Xyx with curious wonder. "What? So was moving in together on there or—?"

Xyx nodded, cheeks somehow turning red even under the cold atmosphere surrounding you both. It was almost as if you'd turned immune to its effect. "Among other things. Which I will be happy to share, in as much detail as you wish. But first, a hot shower is needed because if you're out here much longer that nose of yours is going to freeze off," Xyx stated, a finger gently flicking the tip of your nose, flushed and tender in the cold. Laughing under his teasing touch, the two of you made your way into the cover of the apartment building, adrenaline coursing through you both at the sheer memory of your rooftop tryst. Perhaps living with Xyx was going to be far more innocently romantic than you'd first expected.

[greystormclouds]

Back Against The Wall, Fists Against The World

Fandom: The Boys Rating: M Pairing: Hughie Campbell/Billy Butcher A/N: So I'm new to this fandom and there is a shocking lack of fic that isn't smut. Don't get me wrong, I like a good smut but I prefer character studies more, so here we are. You know what they say, if nobody else has done it, do it yourself. So here I present to you my first fic for this fandom.

Also I wanted to have a supe antagonist in this and The Deep is so stupid that I decided to make him extra ridiculous in this. So enjoy the fishy antics.

Excerpt: Nobody can stop you from taking your weakness and using it to your advantage, whether for personal, political, or diabolical gains. To put it in words that Butcher would appreciate - even when your back is against the wall, your fists will always be against the world. So punch, and keep punching, and let the wall that’s blocking you be your support, not your obstacle. 

As the bullets rained down on the concrete and he came skidding to a halt, sitting behind a large metal dumpster, Hughie could only conjure up one embittered thought:

He we fucking go again. One day, just one goddamn day without somebody trying to blow his ass sky high was all asked for, but apparently even that small hope was too much for whatever sadistic motherfucker was sitting up in heaven on his golden throne. No, it was far more amusing to watch the weak, terrified, criminally exhausted supe hunter get pistol-whipped for the umpteenth time in as many days. Hughie let his head fall back, thumping against the dumpster with all the energy of a limp-necked baby. Somewhere behind his makeshift shelter The Deep was out there, antagonising the rest of the boys, using his superhuman ability of being the biggest cocksucker within whatever given space he happened to find himself in. Right now he was throwing insults, and several snapping lobsters which he had acquired from a nearby fishmongers at them. If it wasn’t so routine by now, Hughie would have thought it was hilarious, but as it stood he couldn’t find the energy to feel anything besides exasperation. 

Without warning, a second body shoved itself down next to him and Hughie looked over to see Butcher crouched at the side of the dumpster, peaking around it as lobsters came flying past them, hitting the adjacent brick wall and breaking on impact. It took a moment for the older man to register he was sharing the space with somebody, but after pulling back sharply, barely dodging getting a lobster to the face, he turned his head and met Hughies eyes with a glare. 

“Take a picture, you can wank to it later,” he said, adjusting himself so he was better shielded from the lobster pelting. 

Hughie rolled his eyes and planted one of his hands on the ground. It was covered in blood and bruised, but after the other injuries he’d sustained recently he hardly noticed it. “You know, I’d tell you to shove it, but I don’t have any fucks left to give.” 

The deflation in Hughie’s voice caught Butcher’s attention, and while he was far from sympathetic he did let out a rough chuckle. “Well, ain’t that a shame.” 

A wail rang out, one that suspiciously sounded like Frenchie’s, and the lobsters momentarily stopped being launched in their direction. Butcher slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out some ammo, after which he began reloading the handgun he always kept on him. Hughie watched as Butcher’s hands deftly slid the gun open and got to work, showing just how much experience he had with weapons. It made everything so much more surreal. Just how had Hughie gotten himself into this shit? Why for the love of all that was holy, why did he keep coming back? That was some philosophical crap that would have to wait until another day, right now they had a crazy fishman to deal with, and he wasn’t going anywhere without some persuasion. Now there was a sentence Hughie never thought he’d, well, think. 

“How the fuck do we get him off our tail?” He asked just as Butcher snapped his gun back together. 

He flicked his eyes towards Hughie and shook his head. “I’d say we go and get ourselves some fish and chips, that should make this cunt shit his pants.” 

Hughie smirked. “You wish it was that easy.” 

“This cunt is easy, he’s done every bird in town.” 

The facetious quip caught Hughie off guard and he involuntarily snorted at Butcher’s crude - but accurate - observation. “Okay, fair enough. Still, we can’t just sit behind this dumpster forever.” 

An ear-piercing screech ripped through the air and the two men exchanged glances before getting to their feet and peaking out behind the dumpster. The gunfire had ceased, and so had the lobsters. Their gazes trailed over the bullet holes in the ground and spashes of blood over the concrete until they came to rest on The Deep, who was standing in the middle of the alleyway clutching his arm which looked like a limp noodle. “She broke my arm! That bitch broke my arm!” He screamed, looking at his arm and then to his left where Kimiko stood covered in blood and fresh lobster meat. 

Butcher tucked his gun into his coat pocket and rolled his neck. “I think you have your answer, Hugh.” 

They walked forward and stopped in front of Deep, while Kimiko ran off to help Frenchie who was struggling to get to his feet. Butcher pulled himself up, puffing his chest out and stared Deep down without flinching. It was impressive just how big Butcher's balls were, he never seemed phased by supes, just infinitely pissed off by them. 

“Tell me where that flying fucker is or I’ll find every single one of your fishy friends and shove them up your ass one by one,” he said, leaning forward to make it clear he meant business. 

Deep frowned and pulled back, wincing as the movement jerked his arm. “Go fuck yourself. You’re an idiot, Homelander will destroy you in ten seconds even if you do find it.” 

Butcher smirked, his lips parted slightly to reveal his teeth. “I’m counting on it.” 

The casual dismissal didn’t seem to go down well, and Deep just looked at Butcher like he’d sprouted an extra head - which if Hughie was being honest, was a completely valid reaction to have to Butcher’s behaviour. What wasn’t a valid reaction was the punch that Deep threw, hitting Butcher square in the jaw and throwing him across the alley. Deep shook his head and turned around, before he began jogging away like a deranged cartoon character. 

“Fuck this shit, I’m out!” 

The air was filled with low groans and Hughie spun on heels, running over to Butcher who was pushing himself up, one hand cupping his bleeding lip. The blood matted his beard and his eyes appeared to be slightly glazed-over from the knock to the head he’d gotten. 

“That fish fucker, I should have kicked him in the bollocks while I had the chance,” Butcher said, spitting some blood onto the ground. 

Hughie threw and arm around Butcher’s shoulders and hoisted him up, supporting him as they walked out to the street where Frenchie and Kimiko had already retreated to the van. “Maybe next time don’t threaten the fish,” he suggested, shifting Butcher’s weight as they walked. 

Butcher looked up and side-eyed him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” 

“Of course you will,” Hughie sighed. “You always do.” 

“Damn straight. I’m nothing if not persistent.” 

Hughie paused his walking and looked at Butcher with a smile full of confusion and endearment. “You’re so fucking weird.” 

Butcher raised an eyebrow. “Mate, don’t talk to me about weird when you’re the one who fucking frolicks down the street singing Billy Whatever-The-Fuck like you’re some kind of demented disney princess.” 

“At least I have some joy in my life,” Hughie muttered, tightening his hold on the arm Butcher had draped over him. “Let me have my music, and I’ll let you have your vengeance fetish.” 

A strong breeze blew through the alleyway and a small leaf from gods-knows-where got caught in it, gliding along the wind current until it gentle settled and caught at the very front of Hughies curls. Seeing the outline of it just above his eyeline, Hughie brought his eyes together to try and focus on it, which resulted in him crossing his eyes dumbly. Butcher watched him for a moment silently, before using his free hand to reach forward and brush the leaf away. His hand ghosted over Hughie’s forehead and the younger mans eyes immediately snapped back into their normal position, directed straight at Butcher in shock. 

Billy Butcher was a lot of things. Mostly he was an asshole who kept everyone at arms length, to the point where he rarely ever said anything good about anyone. He was a maniac with severe anger issues, a revenge complex and a hardon for killing supes like they were game. One thing Billy Butcher wasn’t, was soft , but right now, Hughie couldn’t think of any better descriptor. 

Before he could ruminate on it any further, Butcher tugged him forward and they began closing the distance between them and the van. This whole situation was fucked, but there were little moments like this one that made the neverending stream of shit the tiniest bit tolerable. They didn’t numb the pain, or make Hughie feel any less exhausted, but they muted the blows ever so slightly and that had to count for something. It was the same with Annie, while a lot of their relationship was a complete mess, there were some silver linings that made all the rest worth it. Similar upsides were harder to find with Butcher, mainly because they were layered between about fifty different levels of trauma and self-flagellation, but they did exist and could be found if you dug deep enough. 

They reached the van and the doors opened with a crash, Frenchie popped his head out and grabbed Butcher from the other side, dragging them up and onto the backseat. “Mes ami, we need to get back to the safehouse. M.M. is already setting up first aid,” he said, jumping out of the back and sliding into the driver's seat. Kimiko was already in the passenger seat, and she looked back at Hughie and Butcher with silent anger. Hughie couldn’t blame her, she didn’t deserve this, none of them did, but especially not her. 

The van took off down the street and Butcher pulled himself off Hughie, falling back into the carseat. “I don’t need no first aid,” he said, wiping his blood-dripping nose with the back of his hand. 

“The hell you don’t,” Hughie said, staring at the blood streaming down Butcher’s face. The more time passed the more wounds seemed to be appearing. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks.” 

Hughie had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Instead of arguing he laid back against the seat and closed his eyes, and began playing Billy Joel’s Pressure in his head so he could block out the smell of raw seafood from his mind. 

***

Later than night Hughie was sitting on the couch, watching some looney toons short. It was one with Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner. They were chasing each other around the desert, throwing TNT sticks at each other. For something that was supposed to be completely out of the realm of reality, this felt way too familiar. 

Butcher walked up and plopped himself down beside Hughie. M.M. had patched him up after a minor argument, and now he had a bandage over his nose, one wrapped around his hand and a black eye. He reached over and wordlessly grabbed a handful of chips from the bag Hughie was holding in his lap. “Hey, go get your own food,” he snapped, pulling the bag away as Butcher brough the chips to his other hand and placed one in his mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m hungry,” he said through a mouthful of crushed potato. 

Hughie glared at him and plucked a chip from the bag, throwing it into his own mouth. “You could have at least asked first.” 

Butcher quirked an eyebrow. “I thought we was friends.” 

“We are?” Hughie scoffed. “Could have had me fooled.” 

There was a silence, filled with the sounds of chips being crunched and the explosions of cartoon TNT before Butcher responded. “Hugh, I know I’m a cunt, I’ve never pretended not to be. But you’re too deep into this shit now, I can’t let you leave, it would be a liability.” 

Sighing, Hughie tossed the chip packet over to Butcher and sagged into the couch. “That’s what’s so shitty about all of this. I’m just along for the ride because I have nowhere else to go, and you can’t afford to have me running around without being supervised.” He rolled his head over to look Butcher in the eye. “I’m not a fucking child and I’m sick of being treated that way. It’s the reason I left my dad and came with you in the first place.” 

Butcher crunched on another chip and watched Hughie thoughtfully. “You’re not a child, but you are a right pain in my arse. Would it kill you to listen to me for once?” 

“Yes!” Hughie shouted. “Yes, it would! Nearly everything you want me to do can potentially get me killed in about ten different ways!” 

“Stop being a pussy,” Butcher said coarsely, putting the chips down on the floor. “We got through today, didn’t we? We’ll get through tomorrow as well, and the next day. So stop whinging.”

Hugging pressed his lips together and sat up, gesturing at Butcher’s nose. “Look at you, you call this ‘getting through’ it? You’re going to end up a pile of mincemeat by the time you’re done with this shit.” 

A frown turned the corners of Butcher’s lips and he brought a hand up to stroke his beard. “And what’s it to you? If you’re so bloody upset why don’t you fuck off?” 

There was the question Hughie had been asking himself for a while now. Why didn’t he just leave and never look back. It wasn’t like he needed to stay with Butcher. He could have asked Mallory to put him in Witness Protection with his dad, it wouldn’t have been hard, but he didn’t; in fact the thought had never crossed his mind when it had been available. For some reason he’d just assumed he’d stay with the boys, like that was where he was meant to be, but why the hell had he unconsciously made that decision when being part of any of this was killing his very soul? 

He looked into Butcher’s eyes and felt his breathing slow. Those eyes could rip you apart like you were a piece of paper, make you feel like you were being stared down to a lazer (no pun intended), but there was also an undercurrent of affection there. You could only see it if you knew where to look, and how, and if you’d been around butcher long enough to work this shit out, but it definitely existed. It occurred to Hughie that searching for those stray hints of warmth beneath the sobering bitterness Butcher used as a shield had become somewhat of a hobby for him; just like searching for those decent moments amongst the shit. They were there but they were hard to find. 

And Hughie wanted to find them.

He wanted to find every single one and stack them like some deranged reverse-jenga tower until he could slot enough of them into place that they became stable and constant. He wanted to gather those wisps of humanity and make Butcher see that he had the capacity to be a decent person if he wanted to; he was just too caught up in being an asshole to realise. Hughie wanted to make Butcher see that there was no shame in having some weaknesses. Hughie should know, he had more than his own fair share, but over time he’d come to realise something - and not without the help of Butcher’s insanity to lead him there. It might be embarrassing to be cornered and torn apart, beaten down at every opportunity, but that never eliminates your ability to hit back just as hard. Nobody can stop you from taking that weakness and using it to your advantage, whether for personal, political, or diabolical gains. To put it in words that Butcher would appreciate - even when your back is against the wall, your fists will always be against the world. So punch, and keep punching, and let the wall that’s blocking you be your support, not your obstacle. 

Hughie wanted to make Butcher see this, but he never would, He was a stubborn goat of a man, and there was no two ways about it, but that didn’t mean Hughie wasn’t going to try, because he was going to take his own advice. If Butcher put Hughie’s back against the wall, Hughie would put his fists out and hit him with morality over and over again until he finally began to listen to him; and that, right there, is why Hughie didn’t fuck off. How could he hit Butcher if he left? 

“No,” Hughie finally said, shaking his head. “I’m not fucking off because you need me.” 

Butcher tilted his head ever-so-slightly, and pressed his lips together in an unimpressed non-physical shrug. “This ain’t some movie, Hugh, this is reality. You can’t spout shit like that and think I’m going to take it seriously.”

A growl rumbled in Hughie's throat and he poked Butcher in the side. “I am serious. You need me, you need all of us or you’ll implode and blow the world up with you.” 

A sigh escaped Butcher’s lips and he wiped his brow tiredly. “I don’t know how many times I have to say that everybody should stay away from me as much as they can. I ain’t good for anyone.” 

“I don’t care,” Hughie said resolutely. “You’ve got me whether you want me or not.” 

Butcher shook his head and laid back against the couch. “You’re doin’ my ‘ead in. I swear you’re worse than me gran.” His gaze rolled over to Hughie. “All she did was care about me, and all I did was disappoint her.” He paused. “You don’t even have a reason to care, I’m just some cunt who ruined your life, remember?” 

Hughie stared at him with hard eyes. Yes, it was true that Butcher had upended his life, but no more so than A-Train already had before Butcher showed up. The vigilantism was definitely an unwelcome and terrifying addition to his daily exploits, but Hughie couldn’t say it was all Butcher's fault. He was the one that pulled the trigger on Translucent, he was the one who had chosen to follow Butcher in the first place. If Hughie hadn't pursued him, Butcher would have left after getting his information and Hughie would still be selling DVD players in the electronics shop. They were both guilty of instigating this, just in different ways. 

There was no doubt Hughie was angry. He was pissed he'd thrown himself into the fire and that Butcher had subsequently dragged him even further into hell. In fact Hughie was furious, so much so that he wanted to tear his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs, but what made it so much worse was that throughout all of it Butcher never really saw him. Sure, Hughie was there, but that never meant anything, he was just a pawn in Butcher’s grand plan to take down Vought. Hughie wanted more than that, wanted to actually rate. All he needed was for Butcher to give him something, anything to show that he was more than a disposable lackie, that he actually had a use. Hughie wanted to know Butcher actually liked him; because he liked Butcher, fuck knows why, but he did. 

That’s why Hughie cared about Butcher. He liked him. 

The realisation hit Hughie like a train and he pressed his lips together at the sheer force of it. He Liked Butcher . Oh shit, of fuck, oh god damn fuck shit fuck notfuckshit- No. Hughie shook himself and clenched his fists together. Remember your own advice he told himself, taking a steady breath in slowly. Butcher, the cunt, had backed him into the wall with his question - made Hughie realise things he didn’t even know were bumping around in his brain - but he wasn’t going to let Butcher win. Not this time. Summoning all of his mental strength, Hughie lifted his proverbial fists and narrowed his gaze, getting ready to strike. 

“You really want me to answer that question?” He asked slowly. 

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Stop being a twa-” 

And Hughie hit. He hit so hard that he flew forward and crushed their mouths together roughly, swallowing Butcher’s insult before he could finish it. It was hard, and slightly painful, but Hughie wanted to send a message that Butcher would understand. He felt two rough hands move up his back, one gripped his shirt and the other slid up to his neck, tangling in his curls. Butcher let the kiss linger for a few more seconds before tugging Hughie’s hair and pulling him away. Hughie winced and looked into Butcher’s eyes, expecting anger and possibly a punch to the face, but all he saw was that softness he’d spied earlier in the day - except now it was stronger than it had ever been before. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he half-whispered as Butcher studied him silently. “Let me care.” 

The older man closed his eyes and tilted his head down, making it so that their foreheads pressed together. “You’ll regret you ever said that.” 

Hughie let his lips curve into a small smile and lifted one of his hands to run it through Butcher’s bread, letting it rest cupping the side of his jaw. “That will be my problem.” His eyes wandered down Butcher's face until they came to his lips which were curled downwards in a frown. Hughie tilted his head forward and placed a softer, tender kiss on Butcher’s mouth before pulling away again. “In the meantime, stop being a cunt.” 

Butcher snorted and pushed Hughie away, shoving him back so that he landed against the couch with a thud. The older man smirked at him as he straightened himself up and then bent forward to pick up the bag of chips he had discarded earlier. Hughie watched him silently, but smiled when Butcher held out the chip packet to him with a smirk. “That’s my line, you little shite.” 

Yep, Hughie would just keep hitting, and hitting, and hitting. And maybe one day, if he was lucky, he’d hit a bullseye. Until then, he’d search for these moments, however rare they were, and he’d take what he could get. 

[itsme-basil]

Gang rape - read on ao3

Tags: Stiles x Hale pack, omegaverse, non-con

Part 1 of 2

Tagging: @therogueheart

Derek smells the omega first. It's ripe, in beat, and his mouth waters. It doesn't take long before his betas smell it too, eyes flashing. Derek bolts from the clearing, paws beating against the hard packed soil. Behind him, Boyd, Erica and Issac are at his heels. 

The moon is high in the sky, and Derek howls as he follows the trail. An in heat omega in their woods wasn't something Derek or the betas could pass up. Unmated omegas weren't allowed out in public. This one was definitely unmated, and the scent of heat pulled to the werewolf pack's instincts like a fish on a line. 

The closer Derek got, the more the scent of the omega told him. The omega was male, young. He was lost, afraid. The smell had Derek's saliva glands working overtime. He licked his muzzle as he ran. 

The omega is in a clearing not far from the lake the pack goes swimming in during hot days. Derek growls a barked warning to his betas as they charge forward and they quickly lose steam. Derek takes the lead once more, shifting mid stride and standing over the omega. 

His betas shift as well, the four of them watching as the omega whimpers, arms around his stomach and shoulder leaning into a tree for support. 

"You lost?" Erica asked, voice a rumbled growl, eyes flashing gold. 

The omega looks up, eyes a bright, whiskey brown. Pupils dilated. Derek takes a step forward, unsure what he intends to do as he reaches a hand out. Does he want to see if he's okay, needs help? Or does he want to mount him? Both options tug at his gut. 

The omega smells heady, wet and inviting, and Derek's eyes flash red as he inhales. The omega instinctively takes a step forward, and the close proximity answers Derek's question. 

The omega staggers forward, into Derek's chest on a whine, nose and mouth pressed into Derek's neck. He's too far gone in his heat. Derek wraps his arms around the omega and pulls him in closer. 

"It's alright, omega," he breathed, cock thickening. "We'll take good care of you."

The omega shakes his head even as he grips at Derek's bare sides, practically rubbing his scent all over the alpha. 

"I need- I need to go to a clinic," he rasps. Derek turns to face his pack, hands working on their own to slide under the omega's shirt. 

"What's your name?" Erica asked, sliding up behind the omega. 

"Sti-Stiles," the omega whines. "Please, I need a clinic."

Derek lifts Stiles' shirt up, exposing his torso. Erica's hands slip around to his front, unbuttoning his jeans, which are soaked with slick. 

"We'll take care of you," Isaac hums. Boyd is there too. They're crowding the omega, keeping him from wiggling free. 

They get him out of his clothes even as he struggles weakly against them. Poor thing is too lost, too dazed to really fight the four of them. Too human to go up against the pack. 

"Shh," Derek breathes into the whimpering omega's ear, lowering them to the ground. Stiles has tears in his eyes. He's fighting weakly, but Derek knows what he needs, and somewhere in Stiles' mind, he knows it too. 

He doesn't fight as Derek turns him around, so his back is to Derek's chest. His cock slits in between his ass cheeks, coated with slick. Stiles moans and rocks back onto him, head dropping back. 

"There we go," Erica purrs, crowding in front of them both as Derek adjusts Stiles in his hold. 

"Please," Stiles whines. "Please I need -hhhnn- I need a clin-"

He doesn't get to say much else. Derek's too lost in his own instincts to claim to really focus on the weak attempts at persuasion. Stiles says he doesn't, but Derek can smell he does. 

His hole is sloppy already, heat making the rim lose and ready without much prep. Derek gets an arm under one of Stiles' legs, lifting it enough that he can try and get the right angle. 

He growls when his cock slips, the omega too slick for him to slide in without help. Erica grabs him by the base and Derek lowers Stiles onto it. 

The omega wails at the intrusion, head falling back onto Derek's shoulder as he sinks down to the hilt. 

Derek drops onto his back and fucks up into the omega. Around him, his betas growl with want, envy. 

Boyd is the first to move. He drops to his knees at Derek's head, holding his own cock firm. Stiles -lost in the feeling of having an alpha inside him- barely registers what's happening. His mouth parts when Boyd presses the tip of his cock against soft pink lips. He takes the beta in smoothly, choking when Boyd hits the back of his throat, barely fitting all of him inside. 

Erica is quick to scramble up next. She straddles Stiles' hips, eyes flashing as she grabs his omega cock and lines herself up. She sinks down and Stiles moans around Isaacs cock. Derek growls a moan of his own as the omega tightens around him. He fucks up into him harder. 

The force of his thrusts sends Stiles' cock up into Eric's cunt. He can hear Stiles choking on Boyd's dick, and that's all it takes for Isaac to break and drop to his knees in the clearing. He grabs Stiles' hand, forces it around his cock, curls his own hand around it to keep Stiles put, and fucks into his fingers. 

Derek already feels his knot forming, his teeth sharpening. The omega pants and whines between them, overstimulated and satisfied all at once. Derek's pack knows how to pleasure the oenga. They take everything he's willing to give and more. More slick drools past Derek's cock, coating his thighs and setting the soil under them. Erica's cunt creates slick of its own, leaving the poor thing a mess. 

Derek revels in the choked off moans and gasps in his ear as Boyd fucks into his throat, and with a final thrust, Derek locks into the omega. Stiles' back arches, he crows around Boyd. Derek howls, cumming heavily into the omega's tight clutch. 

He bites down hard on Stiles' neck, breaking skin. Isaac shouts his own release at the sight. 

Stiles cums seconds later. Derek can smell it. Can feel the flutter of his asshole as he spills his infertile load into Erica. 

Erica continues to rock on his cock, using her fingers to rub at her clit, panting and growling as she brings herself closer to her own release. 

Stiles eagerly swallows Boyd's. Derek pulls his teeth from his neck, licking at the bond bite he's placed there. 

"Such a good boy," he breathed, hips twitching as he continues to empty himself into Stiles. The omega whimpers at the praise, cum glistening against his lips. 

Erica pulls off with a sigh, leaning down to lick up the mess at Stiles' groin. Derek watches with baited breath as she opens her mouth, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin of the omega's inner thigh as she sucks up slick and cum. 

"Bite him," Derek demands, voice alpha sharp. The betas around him whimper. The omega in his arms lets out a reedy "please."

Please don't, or please do, Derek doesn't know, but he doesn't care to ask. His own bond bite is on Stiles' neck. The omega is his, his pack's. 

Erica bites at his inner thigh, breaking the skin just as Derek has. The omega screams, arching and tugging on Derek's knot as he cums again. Isaac bites down on the soft inside of Stiles' forearm. Boyd's teeth break the skin on Stiles' shoulder, on the opposite side of where Derek had bitten him. 

From how cognizant Stiles had been before they showed up, Derek knows he's only at the beginning of his heat. It could last up to 3 days. He curls his arms tighter around the loose body laying on top of him, his betas soothing their own bond bites with soft lips and tongues. 

"Please," Stiles sobs, chest heaving. 

"Shh," Derek breathes. "We're going to take good care of you."

It takes a few minutes for Derek's knot to deflate and he slips out of the omega with a groan. He lifts Stiles up as he stands and the betas quickly follow. Their full moon run is cut off short, but no one minds as they follow Derek back to the pack house. 

Stiles -momentarily satiated and sleeping from the thorough fucking Derek and his betas gave him- rests his cheek against Derek's shoulder. 

"Do we get to keep him?" Isaac asked, looking as excited as a puppy at the prospect of a new toy. Erica and Boyd look at Derek expectantly as well, and Derek nods easily. 

"He's ours now," he decides. He knew the moment he smelled the omega in the wind that he'd be theirs. The omega whimpers against his neck, bleeding from his various bites, cum and slick on his skin, inviting the pack to stop right there and fuck him into the ground once more. 

Even if the omega didn't want them, it was too late. Derek wouldn't let him go. He was too perfect. Perfect for his pack. For his betas. He'd kill anyone who tried to take him from them. 

[saphirered]

Ah I just read like 5 of your head cannons they're amazing! Could you write about the M9 reacting to a fighter s/o using magic for the fist time, and the s/o explaining that they haven't used it cause it scares them?

Thank you so much ☺️! It turned out a bit longer than I intended but more content is good right? I tried to get some variety in the types of magic users to kudos to anyone who figures out the (sub)classes. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this one 😘

Caleb:

Caleb, observant as he is caught on the fact you had more knowledge of the arcane than you let people believe. You knew things someone not schooled in some kind of magic wouldn’t have the faintest clue about. It may have left him a bit suspicious of you in the beginning but over time he saw no malicious intent or a connection to the people he’d rather distance himself from.

The first time Caleb noticed you cast a spell, you spoke the familiar words combined with the motions to deflect a hit from an enemy mid battle that otherwise might have been the death of you. You thought no one had noticed but Caleb had, and he recognised the shield spell you used. He saw you flinch the moment you cast it and fear in your eyes as if you were waiting for an aftermath. It never came but you were on edge for the next few hours.

Approaching you after noticing you were still on edge, nervously fidgeting with a coin in your hand to get rid of the more obvious jitters, you denied all claims. If Caleb is good at anything it’s providing a verbal slap in the face through reality check and calling out your bullshit. He wouldn’t press for answers because your past is your past and he had no right to demand it if you were not willingly offering it.

It took you some time but you came clean. You told him how your relationship with practical magics is destructive and hurts people. Because of that you vowed to distance yourself from magic altogether but sometimes you slip and hope no one notices and no ill effects follow you casting any spell. Caleb understands, better than anyone perhaps. He admires your restraint and capability of stepping away from the thing that causes you so much pain; something he never could.

If you’re able to and with your consent Caleb would help you work through your fears, only for your own wellbeing because one thing is undeniable; your magic is part of you and if you never learn to live with it, that it is part of you, you might never be able to accept it. What happens when you’re unable to fear the magic? Will you instead turn to fear yourself like he had himself for so long? No, if he can spare you a fate like that he’d do anything.

Beau:

You never hid the fact you were schooled in the arcane. It just never clicked you are actually a very capable spellcaster especially donned in battle worn armour and your tastes for sharp edged pointy things, and a ‘will cut a bitch’ attitude whenever someone comes for you or those close to you.

Perhaps a little ashamed to admit the first time Beau actually saw you cast a spell it was a simple mage hand cantrip. You couldn’t reach a book on a high shelf at the Archive and you thought it disrespectful to physically climb the bookcases to get it. Beau may or may not have been watching you, more like admiring your muscle. Nothing better than a strong, gorgeous ripped bookworm. Mouth agape you caught Beau staring. You had to snap her out of it. Beau had a million questions, maybe half of them flirty. You answered her questions best you could, even the flirty ones but when it got to where you learned magic you sort of just shut down so she dropped the subject. Beau knows how to read the room no matter how much she might want to press for answers. She’ll refrain. For now.

This doesn’t mean Beau drops the subject entirely for all future reference though. She’d leave hooks for you in case you’d be in a more talkative mood and grow frustrated when you ignored or brushed off the so-many-eth attempt to get you to spill some beans. One day she sat you down, giving you one more chance to tell her what’s going on. If you wanted to tell her, you could. If not, she’d never ask again or try to get you to talk about it.

That’s when you broke down, explaining all the terrible memories of your ‘studies’. You were the only child in a long line of powerful mages to barely be able to cast a cantrip growing up. You were a disappointment and disgrace to your family. Rigorous hours practicing and studying from dawn til dusk without breaks. Not being allowed to go outside and play with friends until you got this one thing right. Nevermind the fact that your family let it be known you were a disappointment.

You’d been working hard already to break the circle but couldn’t prevent the bad memories haunting you every time you felt like you had to cast a spell. No matter how far you ran, whenever you reached for the components, spoke the words or performed the somatics, you were hit with a sense of incompetence. Beau’s not unfamiliar to the need of living up to the expectations of family. She’d be there for you if you wanted to take up magic on your own terms or distance yourself from magic entirely.

Fjord:

Didn’t have a single clue you were magically inclined. But to be fair you never gave anyone a reason to believe you were. You were born with magic and you had seen what developing those abilities had done to others like you. You like yourself the way you are and would very much prefer not to fall into the servitude of some evil entity in the hunger for more power.

You’d seen Fjord spiral into the clutches of his patron and saw him struggle to get away from the leviathan. Ritualistically you tapped into the power bestowed upon you to search for a way to break the pact between warlock and patron. Of course it was doable and your powers could show you the way but you needed to get stronger first…

Fjord grew worried. You’d begun talking to yourself, spending nights awake and an odd sense of paranoia had grasped you. A storm hit once and you had nowhere to shelter. The little voice in your head came back. You could stop that storm. All it would take is a little tiny taste. When you agreed you had no control over yourself. Hand held up to the sky, eyes white and skin ashen, a bright light emitted and the clouds disappeared. Needless to say this did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Obligatory endless questions. Obligatory none answered. You retreated within your shell choosing to ignore your surroundings and feeling the nagging in the back of your head. Fjord heard you speaking to yourself at night. Asking the skies if it was worth it. Worth what? You heard him and just because the voice in the back of your head told you not to, you told Fjord everything; how you had been trying to find a way to keep Uk’otoa at bay, how to break his connection with his patron and give him freedom and what would happen to you if you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for more after completing that goal.

Fjord refuses to let you sacrifice yourself for his freedom. He’d rather have you fighting the evils of the world at his side than end up fighting you in an attempt to save yourself from what you might become. The two of you would work together to repress the inkling for more power and keep your powers at bay and under control. While you might want to see it differently, for the good of everything you’d stay far away from any magical forces seeking to awaken the power you were born with.

Veth:

Veth made it clear she would not understand why anyone would pass on the opportunity to learn or develop magical abilities should they be available to them. She literally spoke those words and you just nodded along changing the subject. You’d rather not lie but is this lie by omission?

It was an emergency. A fight had gone south and you were losing quickly. Clerics on their last legs, a wizard down being dragged away by the monk and Veth running in arrows blazing and screaming to protect her friends. You had to get out and none of you were quick enough at this point to all get out. So you did what you had to do. A quick expeditious retreat resulted in conveniently released magic missiles at your enemies, grabbing the halfling who got out some last shots you misty stepped your way to safety. You shouted to the others you were safe immediately knowing to keep your mouth shut for the next minute. Bless the gods the surges weren’t that bad this time.

Safely returned Veth commented on what you did. Did you take those scrolls? Did you buy that misty step enchanted item after all? Those were the only logical explanations right? Yes but they weren’t true. So you told Veth the truth. No scrolls or enchanted items were involved. Why didn’t you tell anyone you could do that?! It would have been so helpful in the past! Look how many buttons you could have helped her get!

You calmly explained her you could cast spells and were actually quite good at it one point your magic is dangerous, and the surges uncontrollable the state you’re at. While this time the reward by far exceeded the risks in this situation, you’d rather prevent killing those around you in a blaze of glory if you can. Wild magic surges are no joke and you’re so afraid of hurting the people you care about you’d rather step away from magic completely than live with the knowledge you could be the end of your friends and family.

Veth still has a hard time understanding your reasoning being prone to risky behaviour herself but accepts your views and respects your decisions. While you may not practice magic you still know it and after some persuasion, the woman gets you to teach her a thing or two. Of course all used for the good of mankind of course…. She just failed to specify who’s.

Jester:

You’re a special one. The Traveler told her so after all! He just didn’t tell her in what way specifically but you are special! That Traveler of hers may know a bit more than you’re comfortable with so you’ve been wary of the green cloak should he see the need to reveal your secrets. Luckily he cares about Jester and revealing your secrets would hurt you and you being hurt makes Jester upset so you can take comfort in the Traveler’s attachment to the tiefling.

Pixies came to haunt you in the night. They were meant to send you a message. Someone wanted you to stop running and accept your fate. Pissed off as you were you fought them off but when some tried to get away and your bow out of reach you were forced to release the bursts of bright green energy. Regret hit followed by fear. What if your patron could find you now? What if they came to get you or tried to hurt your friends to get you to cooperate? You will never be a puppet again and if a cantrip screwed this up for you….

“Oh. My. Gosh. Why did you never tell me you could do magic?” Jester exclaimed waking up Fjord just to tell him your eldritch blasts looked so much cooler than his. Guess the cat’s out of the bag… You had to prevent Jester from waking up the others to tell them you’d just gotten even cooler than you already were.

Successfully sending the others back to sleep you took Jester aside. Your hands still shaking, you asked her to talk to her god and ask him if he knew someone might be looking for you and getting close. The Traveler obliged but he wanted to hear the story behind your predicament. You told Jester everything ignoring the green hooded figure. How a being from another realm tricked you into an agreement. From then on you became a warlock.

You didn’t like being a warlock and you being stuck in such a binding deal lead to a very abusive relation between you and your patron so you did everything in your power to get away from them. Luckily crossing the planes is a lot more difficult and limits their capabilities quite a bit. Jester promised she’d protect you and of course the Traveler can be your new god so he’ll protect you too. Both you and the Traveler might not have been in full agreement with this statement. Jester understands you wanting to be far away and never see your patron again. She’s seen her mom get rid of the people getting a little too close for comfort or too attached and possessive so she knows how to deal with them.

Caduceus:

From the beginning you knew you couldn’t hide anything from Caduceus no matter how hard you tried. This lead you to just never specify anything. If he picked up on thing and asked about them then you’d answer, if not, you weren’t just going to say anything. Not even to explain yourself. Let him draw his own conclusions.

You may once have been a devout follower of your god, the one who bestowed upon you the powers you’d need to uphold their tenets but you veered from that path. Not everything is as black and white as some people claim it to be. You learned the hard way afraid of repeating your mistakes you’d only revert to your old habits in the most dire situations.

Caduceus had gone down. Jester was too far away and you were the only one able to get to him in time but you were out of healing potions. A quick lay on hands later and Caduceus was back on his feet albeit a bit confused about how you had managed to get him back to the land of the living. Talk later, he told you after seeing you mortified of what you had just done through the relief of seeing Caduceus alive.

Talk later you did. You couldn’t run away from your problems. Caduceus wouldn’t let you. You told him how you had done terrible things, hurt people because your god willed it so. You thought you were doing the right thing until you were faced with the truth and consequences. That’s when you stepped away from your life as a paladin; a vessel for your god.

You kept the sword but refused to use the magic; proof of your ability to hurt people who were worthy of redemption. Over many months Caduceus would help you see that your magic is nothing to be afraid of as long as you wield it with a good conscious and to protect instead of seek vengeance. There’s a fine line between being righteous and being just. The Wildmother taught him as much. Maybe she could through him, show you the same?

Yasha:

Whenever someone played a happy tune or began singing you’d retreat and block out your surroundings or find anything you could to distract you from the sound. Yasha just thought music’s not for everyone and maybe these songs and melodies just were’t your style. However when you asked her to please stop humming a tune while you had watch together she became a bit suspicious.

Spending some downtime at a tavern, deep in your cups Yasha was being bothered by a rather persistent asshole. On the verge of a fight breaking out you stepped in front of the barbarian and in a singsong voice told the asshole to kindly piss off and find company elsewhere with someone actually interested. The act alone made your stomach churn so you ran off.

You didn’t like controlling people. It didn’t even take a rhyme or proper verse. All it took was some booze and a melody in your head. This couldn’t happen again. Yasha had come after you to check on you and when you told her to stop, she stopped, frozen in place unable to move. You immediately dropped the accidental spell you cast putting distance between you and Yasha.

Yasha assured her it was fine and with your permission approached. A hug from the gentle goth was all it took for you to turn into a sobbing mess. When the sobs calmed down you told Yasha how you were cursed with your voice. Song and rhymes, tunes and melodies constantly plagued you afraid you’d go along with them and people got hurt because you couldn’t control your voice.

For the longest time you were uncomfortable using your voice but with your permission Yasha would help you practice. She can take a hit if you lose control badly but this fear is no good for you. She’ll play sweet serenades, some prettier than others as she too needs practice, the both of you can practice together learning and relearning the things you grew to love together.

Mollymauk:

Mollymauk doesn’t care about your shit. Everyone hides something and as long as those secrets aren’t a danger to those around you it’s all fine. Though he can’t deny being a bit curious when you snuck off to burn a suspicious stack of paper…. lighting the flame without tinder, flint and steel, or anything.

The next few weeks involved Molly trying to get you to use magic again, asking you to do small tasks much easier to complete with magic than they would be manually. You didn’t budge. Somehow he couldn’t get you to do anything. You’d complete the task the hard way each and every time. He began to wonder if he might have imagined the whole thing.

He spent the whole night tossing and turning until he decided to give up on sleep and just face you with the question to be done with it. You were gone, the light of a fire a bit away from the rest of the group. He found you watching the flames, tears in your eyes and devoid of all emotion. He’d seen Caleb in a similar state before. That’s when it hit him. This was pain, fear and trauma and you’re disassociating to get through this.

Sitting down next to you he’d place a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t stop him he’d wrap it around your shoulder letting you know he’s here for you when you need him. His views don’t change. Everyone is entitled to their secrets and keeping their lives to themselves. If you want to talk, he’s here but he’d accept your silence too despite his curiosity. Luckily for his curiosity, you told him everything. The torments of the past and the family you lost, the pain you’ve caused countless others and how you’re trying to pay your penance and make right your wrongs.

You’re glad to have Molly at your side be that to cheer you up or listen to you. He’s there whenever you need him and will take no for an answer when you don’t want to talk about something. He won’t ask for further details but will do anything to show you you’re on the right path and leaving a place better than you found it when you can’t see it.