#fic tags under the cut

[kamwashere]

all the skeletons you hide (show me yours, i’ll show you mine)

SUMMARY—

A wave of affection and longing almost makes him stagger on his feet. Just seeing him in that suit—looking less than impressive, scratching his butt—makes him realize just how much he missed him. He missed his loud, annoying voice, how easy it seemed for him to read Peter’s mind, and how he never missed their nightly rendezvous on top of rooftops.

“Wade,” he inwardly cringes how his voice catches, “Hi.”

-

Peter, fresh out of his multiversal escapades, gains a new perspective in life. One that includes a certain mouthy mercenary, perhaps?

part two of new york isn't new york without you, love

[allgremlinart]

[ Do NOT be deceived. Zuko's guards ARE on orders to let him in for booty calls. ]

post-canon jetko. Zuko isn't a rail-thin angry refugee anymore. Jet isn't hurting as bad as he did. He even finds himself new purpose after the war - hunting down still-rogue Fire Nation mercenaries and war criminals, housing orphans, and being occasional bounty hunter for hire (he's not as good as June, but he has his ways). And, of course, hitching a ride on the ship taking the Earth King's diplomatic embassy to the Fire Nation. The Avatar may have refused to kill the new Firelord if he steps out of line, but that doesn't mean Jet wouldn't. It's his job to go over there from time to time and remind certain people of this. If he so happens to have almost-civil discussions and intercourse with a head of state when he does so, that's purely incidental, and does not distract him in the slightest.

full pic ;]

[ Jet really DID visit Zuko's chambers with the intention of debriefing with and analyzing him, this time. To see if he could manipulate some more aid out of him, maybe, (Jet could play him like a fiddle, it wasn't hard,) or to wheedle him for lodgings and food for himself, or to see someone that he knew was just as restless as he was, regardless of peacetime, regardless that he shouldn't still feel like that. However, he caught Zuko right after he had a... meeting. With an Earth Kingdom noble. And, well... when you grow up deprived you learn you don't turn down leftovers. Or sloppy seconds, as it were. ]

[snickeringdragon]

sadfrin! my take on him!! a special guy!! definitely not posting this for any suspicious reasons! no fic related reasons! on a totally unrelated note did you know i have an ao3? under the same name as my tumblr??

[curatoroffiction]

Overprotective (Part 1)

Based off of this post It all came to a head with The Incident��.

You were frustrated, having just left Levi's room. You'd brought him a series that you thought he'd love, it was much more like some of the stuff he used to be into, which had heartbreak and drama, but you'd heard it had a good resolution, even if it was sad. But the second things started turning sour emotionally, he began to panic. And when he asked if you knew what would happen, and you said "I've heard about the ending, but I saved actually knowing it for you", you didn't expect what he did next. He stopped the show and took the DVD out. This started a long fight that you barely understood. Him being upset that you weren't 'taking care of yourself', and you being upset that he was trying to micro-manage what you watched! You even jabbed at him telling him that "Avoiding the sad stuff isn't healthy!" which only made him more upset. You didn't understand why, so you just left. You ran into Asmodeus, who started worrying about the stress you were visibly under. Stress isn't good for one's health. He first asked if you wanted to take a soothing bath with him, which you shrugged off, thinking that would be the end of it. But it wasn't. He kept badgering you to let him help you destress. It started very flirty at first... Until it became desperate. You continued to decline, and he became more worried, which caught Satan's attention. When Satan heard you were stressed out, several stress-related illnesses flashed through his memory and he became very serious trying to give you other options. If anything, their insistence on controlling another aspect of your life was making it worse. You were on the verge of exploding when Belphegor came around. You called out to him, but he turned right around and walked away. You frustratedly chased after him, but when you turned the corner he disappeared behind, he was gone. Instead, you found Mammon. With the shadiest bag of vitamins you've ever seen. No label, just some random supplement in a plastic bag. "You want some vitamins?" The sight would have made you laugh a week ago, but right now, it was just frustrating. "No! I want everyone to stop badgering me! And for Belphegor to stop AVOIDING me!" "Sounds like you could eat. Lemme cook you up something." Mammon was the one who was the best at reaching out. He'd been slyly learning how to cook on the side, so he could get more veggies and fruits into your diet. And the food he's learned to cook was really yummy. Begrudgingly, you accept, and he takes you to the kitchen, also giving Asmo and Satan a covert thumbs up. The two let him take care of you, seeing that your stress instantly began to melt at the idea of food. That is.. Until you got to the kitchen. Mammon begins pulling out veggies and fruit to make you a few dishes, but Beelzebub keeps hovering around to try to control your portions. No matter how much you told him it was insulting, he just couldn't bring himself to stop worrying. Mammon always makes you too much food, seeing as how he keeps trying to pack in the nutrients like they're going to culminate in prolonging your life indefinitely. Once again, you're pissed, and this time with new vigor. You finally storm out of the kitchen and out of the house, only to see Lucifer coming in from the walkway. And he's blinded by how dangerous it is for you to walk around Devildom alone. He tells you as much and you just shout "WELL I HOPE I DIE THEN, BECAUSE IT'D BE BETTER THAN THIS HELLSCAPE" while trying to brush past him in frustration. You didn't even mean the words, but no one had been listening to you and no one was giving you a chance to control anything in your life without supervision. They've been so controlling and so accidentally belittling, making you feel less-than, making you feel like a child in a house without love. Part 2

[static-radio-ao3]

fic authors self rec! 

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love

thank you @ecstarry and @poetskings for tagging me! mwahh!

light as a ghost (on my mind you weigh the most) - jegulus, ghost au, 12.5k

Like most stories, this one starts with a ghost. Or maybe it starts with a phone call. Or maybe it starts with a gun. Or maybe the story starts at the end. Or maybe it doesn’t start at all. Instead, it loops and curves and twists and turns until end and beginning are one and the same. But if the story were to start with a ghost, it would start like this.

2. talking on the ride home - jegulus, modern au w/ demisexual regulus, 9k

Regulus Black does not have a lot of luck in love. Nor does he have a driver’s license.

3. all the wanting in the world - jegulus, pygmalion au, 10.7k

There is nothing James Potter loves more than his art.

4. where all light comes in - jegulus, nanny au, 14.8k

Regulus Black spends a lot of time taking care of people. It’s been a while since someone took care of him. In which James is a single dad, Regulus is a nanny, and Harry is a little bit obsessed with dinosaurs.

5. don't like it fake (i think it's true love) - jegulus, modern au, fake dating, 10.1k

James Potter and Regulus Black could never date. Or at least, that's what Regulus seems to think. Determined to prove him wrong, James suggests they fake date for a month. But the longer they fake it, the more real it gets.

no pressure tags! @pretentiouswreckingball @spacexcowgirl @carniferous @itsjaywalkers @residentrookie

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Remember um. Remember that kinky Comic Goldenheart fic I've been teasing for like a stupid long time that like goes into emotional kink dynamics and shit?

It's finished

[zeebreezin]

So here’s the thing about Vincent Beverley, right. He’s a manipulative, sensation seeking sadistic little bastard with a career built on indoctrination and light torture. Vincent likes his work and the power that comes from being the smiling face of these things, and he loves his Isobel, and his favorite doctor, and if you’d ask the man, he’d say that’s all there really is to him. Vincent considers himself a pretty simple guy.

And honestly he’s not… wrong? But here’s the thing with Vincent Beverley - that’s not the name he was using when he came down to the Neath.

A Sardonic Charlatan took the name Vincent Beverley as part of yet another con - He’d stolen documentation form some poor soul signing into the navy, looking for a couple years at sea away from his debtors. The whole ‘London is in a hole’ thing did mess with his plans slightly, but well, he’s always been one to adapt.

He was never a good person, not really. Opportunistic and dry, willing to use a natural charm to skirt the law. But he wasn’t a monster. Eventually he fell into recruiting people for some new construction, or scientific project, way out on the western edge of the Zee. After that was finished, the Charlatan figured he’d be heading for the surface, cashing out and seeing how much his stories of the mysterious world below would sell for up above.

Because here’s the thing about the Sardonic Charlatan - they didn’t tell him what was going on.

I mean, why would the admiralty tell everyone on Station V about their project? It was a dangerous thing, something on a need to know basis, but of course there were rumours. Rumours and little distant flashes of light. No one really knew how dangerous stars really were, though, when they were trying to build one.

So on the day when the Dawn Machine turned on, when the chosen few were watching aboard the ships, as the rest carried on on Station V… no one really expected what happened. Especially not a Charlatan who was barely invested in the cause to begin with.

It was beautiful, at first. People crowded around railings and docks to catch a glimpse of the distant light. It was almost sunlight, they said, and after so long in the dark, no one could fault people for getting enraptured. But then people weren’t able to look away. And the ships way out by the machine, casting long shadows in the golden glow didn’t seem like they were going to come back. Then of course, people started to change.

Here’s the thing about the Sardonic Charlatan, though - as self serving as he could be, he wasn’t a monster.

When the people you’ve spent months with start to break apart, bleeding light and hymn from every wound, it doesn’t matter if you share their sailor’s comradery or goddamn patriotism, you’re going to do something about it. Perhaps for the first time in his life, the Charlatan grew selfless as chaos reigned in the birth of new law on Station V. He gathered the less affected somewhere dark, somewhere safe, and made a plan. They’d get their own ship, and they’d high tail it for London. They’d have to know what to do - or at the very least, they’d be safe there.

No one noticed as something began to creep into the Charlatan’s blistered lips, a harmonious lilt that wasn’t there days before. He hid his wounds, he tried to do what was right, and he tried to go back into the calm of the dark - he really, truly did.

But here’s the thing about him, and here’s the thing about her. It was already over.

He knew it, but he wouldn’t admit it. She knew, though, the quiet but witty mechanic the Charlatan recruited personally. She accepted the machine quickly - another love melding into one in a single breath. It wasn’t hard, by the time she found him, collapsed and shivering. Trying to swallow down whatever light he could. It was her words, though, that sealed his fate. Even still, the Sardonic Charlatan went out screaming.

The dawnlight wasn’t kind to him - the Sardonic Charlatan had never really believed in anything before, and it burnt through him without restraint. Whatever his name was, whoever he was before the navy, before this job, he’s nothing but embers now. He loves the woman that saved him, so long ago, but some days he can’t remember the first time they truly met. All that matters is that he’s whatever he needs to be to bring more people into the fold, to be remade, happier and far, far brighter.

Because here’s the thing about Vincent Beverley. He’s a pretty simple guy. Anything else is long gone.

Here’s a lil Vincent dialogue test for making it to the bottom of this post lmao!

“That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? People always seem to think of it the wrong way around! I don’t sell anyone anything, no, not really. I’ll admit it would be easier if I could just offer up a little slice of sunshine to anyone interested n’ be on my way, but… that’ll never really work. Dawnlight’s a powerful, beautiful thing, but there’s nothing like a human touch in this line of work. The secret’s simple: just be whoever they need you to be. A friend, a job prospect, a helping hand, a lover, a bringer of opportunity. The light comes later - and it will come later, don’t you worry. But once you offer sweet, lonely, desperate people just a little kindness? Well, then you’re already halfway there.”

[metalbvcky]

Bloom!Verse Masterlist

It's been three years since the birth of this enormous series. I never thought a oneshot (which became eight chapters) could lead me to such character development and world building, but here we are. And I'm still writing, the muse hasn't died, and I'm not nearly finished (or ever will be). The lore is ✨ infinite ✨ So I thought I'd make an updated masterpost— in chronological order (as it's been written in reverse)— for the new year. Aster should be finished by the late spring and then I'll likely start the wedding fic 😉 I still have dozens of ideas for this series, it's insane. In fact, I have a poly fic in the works, I just need to continue and finish it 😋

🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷

Shelves of Aster - 96k (WIP)

Tags: Alternative Universe - Bookstore, Sugar Daddy, Meet Cute, First Meetings, Age Difference, Falling In Love, Healthy Relationships, Experienced Dom/Inexperienced Sub Snippet: Their eyes lock the second Steve pulls back slightly. They gaze at each other for what feels like forever, as if a magical force is drawing them in, closer, and closer until neither of them can ignore the tension surrounding them. Steve’s breath puffs against Bucky’s lips when he speaks, “Can I kiss you?”

Peach and Lemon Blossoms - 1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Office Sex, Implied Top Steve/Bottom Bucky, PWP Snippet: Bucky has always fantasized about office sex, and always found the risk to be a bit thrilling. He made sure to lock the door before he came inside, so there wasn’t a chance of anyone walking in on them, though there was still a possibility someone could knock.

Rose Blue - 60k, 8 chapters (complete)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, 24/7 D/S relationship dynamic, Kinky Husbands In Love, a whole bunch of smut tags Snippet: Steve smiles at Bucky before he reaches across the dresser, to the dedicated spot where they keep their accessories and things. Draped around a velvet bust is a sterling silver choker, the petite chain link gleaming in the soft lamplight. Beside the bust is a ring boat containing a wedding band that matches the one attached to the choker’s oval pendant, curved downward. Blue accent roses decorate the gold tinted sides, a crystal stone shining in the center with leaves tucked throughout.

Dreams of Poppy Fields (3 times Bucky pretended to be asleep and 1 time Steve caught him) - 4.8k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fluffy and Smut, Light Angst, Possessive Steve Snipppet: Steve kneels down to pry the trowel out of Bucky’s hand from where he’d been tending to the garden. He slides Bucky’s stained gardening gloves off and tosses them aside, out of Dum-E’s reach. It isn’t the first time he’s had to carry Bucky to bed, and it surely won’t be the last, so Steve sees no problem in picking him up.

A Mug Filled with Pink Irises - 2.3k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Kitchen Sex Snippet: Steve crosses his legs, fixated on Bucky’s exposed collar bone from the low-cut neckline. Peppering kisses to his husband’s neck, not to mention sucking on the most sensitive spots, has always been his favorite part about foreplay.

Dark Dahlias at the Annual Potts/Romanov Costume Party - 6.5k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Halloween, Humor, House Party, Domestic Fluff, Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov Snippet: “Give me your best sexual pick-up line,” Bucky says, one-hundred percent intending to use it on Steve, if Nat doesn’t beat him to it. Clint leans against the counter, scratching his head in thought. Dressed as Fred Jones is truly uncanny for this particular moment. “I’m peanut butter. You’re jelly. Let’s have sex?”

Wild Amaranth Desires - 5.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Roleplay, Cages, Leashes, Blink and you'll miss it mention of a threesome Snippet: Bassy music thrums through the walls, the sound rushing in and around the small, closed-off area. A few multi-colored lights gently strobe in the background, occasionally highlighting over the cage that sits in the middle of the room.

Amaryllis in Baskets - 1.3k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, PWP, Dirty Talk, Cooking Snippet: Now here they are, Steve finishing up lunch while Bucky sits at the breakfast table with the warm, afternoon sun slipping through the curtains.

His Precious Primrose - 4.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Christmas, PWP, Aftercare Snippet: Steve takes the steps one at a time, his cotton, calf-length robe grazing the railing. Once at the bottom, he strolls through the hallway and into the kitchen, passing the dining room while on his way. He walks slowly, with no rush at all, when a gift wrapped up in front of the lit fireplace slips into the corner of his vision.

Identical Mauve Carnations - 3.6k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Dream Sequence, Wet Dream, Self-cest, Bucky/Bucky, Winter Soldier Bucky Snippet: “It’s been a while since I’ve been with a pretty thing like you,” James purrs, reaching up to brush a metal knuckle over Bucky’s cheek. “Think you can handle being with me?”

🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷🥀🌷

Because I know not everyone reads threesomes, I've listed the rest under the cut (and this post is long enough) 😉

Cattails In the Rogers-Barnes Household (A Scavenger Hunt for Lube, 5 +1) - 12k, 2 chapters (complete)

Tags: Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Threesomes, Pre-Poly, Dom Loki, Switch Loki Snippet: Loki vaults themself forward and successfully closes the door without alerting anyone. They scan the room slowly, spotting every little detail. The desk is rather tidy, however, the sitting area is the polar opposite. Magazines are scattered across the floor, throw pillows shoved to the side, and overall just in a disarray. What really catches their eye is the pair of leather cuffs poking out between the cushions, along with a thin strap for a blindfold.

A Toy to Share, Restrained by Coriander - 6.7k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Pre-Poly, BDSM scene Snippet: Loki pushes off of the wall from where they’d been leaning, arms no longer crossed, and takes a couple of long, determined steps. Bucky cranes his neck up due to Loki’s height, just an odd number of inches taller than him. Both of their gazes are locked in on each other, eyes unmoving while Loki curves a single finger under Bucky’s jaw.

Strangled by Thoughts of Poison Ivy (Bucky Rogers-Barnes and the No Good, Very Bad Week) - 9.2k (oneshot)

Tags: Pre-Poly, Scene Gone Wrong, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst Snippet: Steve doesn't think, he just reacts, his body moving on its own as he scrambles to loosen the straps holding Bucky in before he hurts himself. The second they loosen even a fraction, Bucky breaks free, scrambling rapidly backward off of the bench, his back slamming into the wall behind them. Steve tries to catch him but Bucky pulls his arm away, and god, it feels like a stab to the heart to watch Bucky curl on himself like a wounded animal.

Honeysuckles Growing on the Window Sill - 22k, 5 chapters (complete)

Tags: Threesomes, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Relationship Discussions, Fluff and Smut Snippet: Steve’s face turns serious, absolute fondness written in his expression. “Without a doubt in my mind. You were so beautiful for me,” he says, voice turning soft as he tucks a loose strand of Loki’s hair behind their ear. “I really like you, Loki. We like you.”

Lobelias in the Meeting Room - 4k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Light Angst, Fluff and Smut Snippet: Loki follows Steve with their eyes, holding their gaze until Steve comes to a stop near them, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. They regard Bucky with a soft look before capturing his lips, inhaling through their nose as arousal swells in their stomach.

A Threatening Snakeroot (Hidden in the Crowd) - 7.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sex Club Snippet: As Bucky is led down the hallway, taking an immediate right, Loki directs him over to the side of the bar. There’s a square pedestal off to the side, which was added the same day Bucky received his pillow. A sign on the left of it read, ‘Pet on Display,’ while on the right it said, ‘ Display Only - Do Not Touch.’ It was a nice little spot to watch people come and go, and was close enough to the bar that Val could help keep an eye out for him if Loki and Steve weren't nearby.

Succulent Strawberries, Dangling from the Branches - 1.6k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Fluff and Smut, Domestic, Bookstores Snippet: The warmth of Steve’s breath causes a shiver to travel through Bucky’s back. He lets out a whine upon the slender hand urging him back inside, his legs going into autopilot mode as his doms tower over him. The door shuts with an audible click, followed by the window shades rolling down and blocking the evening sunlight.

The First Sprouts of Spring - 1.6k (oneshot-- recently switched to complete since my brain had other ideas back in 2021)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Fluff and Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling Snippet: As Steve steps onto the porch for a few pieces of wood, Loki strolls over to the closet and takes out some blankets. They return to find Steve rearranging the furniture, pushing the two couches together, creating a square hollow. They promptly hand the stack of blankets to Steve at his instruction, then head back to check up on Bucky.

[kateis-cakeis]

Thinking about the structure of the Old Religion.

From what we know there's the Nine which refers to the High Priestesses of the Triple Goddess - powerful sorcerers who obtained immortality (unless killed by some form of magic), and performed important rituals of the Old Religion.

It is unknown if there was a High Priest equivalent, but Gaius in S1Ep13 does tell Merlin that "the High Priests have the power to mirror life and death". This suggests that perhaps there were High Priests of the Triple Goddess, and that they also had a Nine.

There's the Bendrui, women who failed to become part of the Nine. Just like those who eventually became High Priestesses of the Triple Goddess, they were chosen at birth for the priesthood - taken from their families and raised as initiates of the Old Religion. Despite their failure, Bendrui are practiced in potent magic, and appear to have above average gifts.

There's the Bloodguard, warrior priests who swore to protect the High Priestesses. They, like the High Priestesses, were the only people to ever set eyes upon the staff carved from the Rowan tree that grows at the very heart of the Isle of the Blessed.

It could be suggested that like the Bendrui, the Bloodguard could have been failed High Priests, but there is no evidence (other than the existence of the Bendrui, and the mention of High Priests) to truly suggest this.

It is also unknown if the Bloodguard served the Triple Goddess. It is possible that the priests served various different gods of the Old Religion, but due to their relation to the Nine specifically, it is likely these warrior priests served the Triple Goddess.

There's the Catha, which contains priests. (Alator is referred to being "of the Catha, warrior and priest", he also says "I'm a Catha priest").

It is unknown if they served the Triple Goddess, or a different god of the Old Religion (and we know they are priests of the Old Religion because Morgana says, "He's a Catha...priest of the Old Religion.").

They have their own language, however, suggesting that they are a unique culture, and perhaps even an ethnic group. (This is further supported by Alator saying Catha are trained from birth to master all physical pain, it is also said that they guard their ancient knowledge - which leans towards them being a people rather than just initiates of the Old Religion)

There's the Disir, the highest court of the Old Religion, made up of three women chosen at birth to be trained as seers and soothsayers. They are the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess, and interpret her word. As Gaius says, "When they sat in judgement, their word was final". They pass on the runemark, which is both judgement and fate - it contains a person's guilt, as well as the path the gods have chosen for them.

There's the Druids, a peaceful people who worship the Old Religion and often possess magic. It's a part of their beliefs to help people in need of care, and therefore, those who weren't born a Druid can find a home amongst them (Morgana is one such example).

Moreover, the Druids look for children with the gift of telepathy to serve as apprentices (perhaps to keep them safe? perhaps to encourage their magic in childhood?). The Druids also have a tattoo of a triskelion somewhere on their body, perhaps as a part of a ritual (to indicate someone has become a Druid?).

While the Druids have an intimate knowledge of prophecy and destiny, especially regarding Emrys and the Once and Future King, they do not appear to be priests or priestesses in any form. Just like the Catha, they have their own language (called the Druid tongue and Druidic Runes by Gaius), therefore, it is possible that they too are a unique culture and/or an ethnic group.

There's the Isle of the Blessed, a sacred location of the Old Religion, said to be the centre of it, and the focus of its power - it is also where the power of the ancients can still be felt after the Great Purge. Artifacts such as the Rowan staff, the Cup of Life, and the Horn of Cathbhadh were kept there under the care of the High Priestesses. Furthermore, Morgana's healing bracelet was forged on Isle - suggesting that its power allowed for the creation of powerful artifacts (this is further supported by the Rowan staff which was carved from the tree that grows there).

In a deleted scene for S4Ep1, Morgause says when she was first brought to the Isle, the hallways were teeming with women - High Priestesses. Although it is said often within the fandom, canon never establishes if the initiates were trained on the Isle. This deleted scene, however, heavily suggests it.

There's the Caerlanrigh, a sacred spring within the Grove of Brineved. There, the Disir reside within a cave, where the spring feeds into an ancient pool - in which the Disir divine from. The old ways are at their strongest there, and it's at the very centre of their powers (whether Gaius meant the old ways or the Disir here is unclear).

There's the Cauldron of Arianrhod, a sacred site of the Old Religion. The lake contains the power of the White Goddess, who can be summoned to heal those affected by the Teine Diaga ritual. However, if such a person is tricked into entering the cauldron, their soul would be lost forever.

There's the Crystal Cave, said to be the birthplace of magic. It is filled to the brim with scrying crystals that show the past, present, and future. Taliesin used the cave as the source of his prophecies for the kings of old. And as much as the crystals can be controlled, they can force visions upon powerful sorcerers too.

The cave can also hold spirits within it, seen with both Balinor and Taliesin.

While this may have been the case for Merlin alone, the cave can restore a person's magic.

There are celebrations important to the Old Religion too, such as:

Samhain, a time of year where the people feel closest to the spirits of their ancestors, in which they celebrate their passing.

During Samhain it was traditional for the High Priestesses to gather on the Isle of the Blessed and perform a blood sacrifice to release the Dorocha. This was done on the stroke of midnight, when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest.

Since the Dorocha do not roam free in the world throughout the series, it is suggested that a second blood sacrifice was done by the High Priestesses - perhaps before the night was through - to close the veil once more.

In Camelot, a feast is held as part of the celebrations. (This suggests that while the Old Religion and its practices were abandoned during and after the Purge, the heart of the religion and its holidays were never replaced).

Beltane, a time of year where the High Priestesses would gather at the Great Stones of Nemeton and summon the spirits of their ancestors with the Horn of Cathbhadh. It opens the door to the Spirit World and allows the person who blew the horn to see and speak with their ancestor of choice.

In Camelot a feast is held as part of the celebrations (which much like Samhain seems indicate that the Old Religion has been around for so long that it cannot be removed from society entirely - that the people clung onto some traditions, including the royal family).

There's the Gods of the Old Religion, the Triple Goddess, the White Goddess, and Nemaine. It could be implied that the White Goddess, and the Earth Mother Nemaine are part of the Triple Goddess, but it is just as likely for them to be separate gods.

If so, the Triple Goddess is heavily associated with the Nine, destiny and fate, and the immortality of certain sorcerers. Perhaps she is also associated with the balance of the world, due to the power over life and death being tied to the High Priestesses and supposed High Priests.

The White Goddess, however, appears to be associated with one's soul and healing. It was only her power that could heal and retain Gwen's soul after Teine Diaga ritual.

The Earth Mother Nemaine is related to Gean Canach, as it is said her tears forged the creature. The book Gaius reads from has more information, and from what can be deciphered, it says that Nemaine first wept at the slaughter of war, resulting in the Gean Canach crawling out of the Earth's belly (there is more written on the page, but it is impossible to tell what it says). This suggests that Nemaine lives within the Earth's core, and that she is indeed associated with nature and living beings as her name implies.

Furthermore, since she wept at the slaughter of war, she is perhaps the god of life itself, but not of the entire cycle. And due to the Gean Canach's abilities, to devour and drain a sorcerer of their magic, it is likely that this war's slaughter was brought about by magic.

It is possible that The Earth Mother Nemaine could be related to the Pool of Nemhain. Despite having different spellings in the show (the subtitles), they have extremely similar pronunciations (even if it is a bit different). Perhaps they are unrelated, but if they are one and the same, it could be suggested that the Earth Mother is connected to death as well as life, due to the pool being the last of the Five Gateways to the Spirit World. (This contradicts what is analysed in the above paragraph, but this post is meant to speculate multiple possibilities.)

Honourable mentions:

It could be suggested that the Quest Ritual was once part of the Old Religion. It includes the heir to the throne of Camelot transcending their body in order to receive a vision of a quest. This quest is meant to prove their worth to the people, and their worthiness of the throne. The heir prepares themself by cleansing their body and dressing in white robes. They spend an entire night kneeling on the floor, barefoot, with their eyes closed.

Due to how Arthur reacts in the morning when Uther pulls him out of it, and how sacred the entire process appears to be, it is as if the heir is actually gifted with a vision of a quest. This is supported by his reaction, as he looks dazed when relays what he has seen. Therefore, it seems as if the ritual includes some form of magic due to the preparation, and if so, then it's likely it was a practice of the Old Religion (specifically for the heirs of Camelot? Due to Camelot's association with the very heart of magic?)

It has been around for hundreds of years, so it is not outside the realm of possibility that the Quest Ritual is so old that the general consensus has forgotten its ties to the Old Religion, or much like Samhain and Beltane, it is perhaps so baked into society that it couldn't be abandoned.

--

In S1Ep13, Merlin says that the "Old Religion died out centuries ago". Even in Series 1 this is far from true, but later seasons make this remark seem entirely ignorant. If anything, this sentiment comes from a post-Purge society, where the structures of the Old Religion no longer exist. Perhaps it is even propaganda that Uther pushed forward as people became more fearful over the years, turning away from the old ways despite once practicing such beliefs (and for the people of Camelot, still practicing some of those beliefs).

It is possible this was a retcon but if so then it's directly retconned in S1Ep13 when it's revealed that Nimueh is a High Priestess.

Anyhow, in response to Merlin's ignorance, Kilgharrah says, "The Old Religion is the magic of the Earth itself. It is the essence which binds all things together. It will last long beyond the time of men".

This shows that the Old Religion doesn't just refer to the religion and the gods, but rather it is the very magic that makes up the fabric of the world, and as Balinor says in S2Ep13 it's either a part of you or it isn't. This suggests that it is indeed not just a religion, but the very world, the Earth, magic.

He also goes on to say that Merlin must "find those who still serve it", which shows that Uther very much didn't succeed in eradicating the structure of the Old Religion entirely, at least at that point in the show. And perhaps that anyone could serve it, even after the very structure collapsed.

All this is to say that the Old Religion is extremely pagan. The structure itself is vague perhaps because Old Religion is personal, it is vague. The differences between the High Priestesses, the Catha, and the Druids make this clear. Following the Old Religion's beliefs, traditions, and holidays is personal and spiritual because it varies, because there is no wrong way. Because there are no set rules or a real structure at all. The High Priestesses had power, yes, but this seems to come directly from the Triple Goddess herself, rather than a societal standing.

Nimueh was at court, and she was Uther's friend, but she was also very quickly thrown from the court after Ygraine died. And yes, the High Priestesses went to war with the Ancient Kings, but that appears to be a difference in factions, rather than let's say the Christian church and its power over the centuries.

Therefore, I propose that the Old Religion as a religion was loose in its structure, that it never died out like Merlin said (which does seem to be a post-Purge sentiment), but instead simply changed and evolved, and continued to exist even after the Purge, with its holidays in Camelot, and with the Druids and their practices/beliefs.

-----

Overall, the information we have on the structure of the Old Religion is vague and patchy. This was perhaps intentional so the writers could work around existing canon to introduce new concepts without being constricted by their past worldbuilding. But that's getting into the Intentional Fallacy, so I'll leave that there.

It appears that the High Priestesses had the most power in society, due to their past wars with the Ancient Kings, and their sheer power and knowledge. Not to mention their artifacts and control over creatures like the Fomorroh.

But there are different beliefs and structures to the Old Religion, like with the Catha and the Druids, suggesting that there are multiple ways to worship and follow the Old Religion.

The many sacred sites show that there are different powers and sources to the Old Religion that have different purposes. Like how the path to the Cauldron of Arianrhod was lined with banners for pilgrims, not to necessarily summon the White Goddess, but to visit the site. Or how the Isle of the Blessed is a powerful religious site, while the Crystal Cave is a fairly legendary and unknown place that few ever get to see.

In conclusion, the Old Religion is vast and has many facets to it. There is some structure, but it doesn't seem entirely necessary in order to follow the Old Religion. And in reality, it is inherent to the Earth, it is magic itself.

[space-writes]

ROYGBIV tag

tagged by @winterandwords, thank you! these are all from A Question of Trust, because I’ve got Boys™ brainrot again <3

📝 Search your story for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpts.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Red

Her eyes glinted—not dried blood but y’haerrphis. Fanatic red. The colour of whip-cracks and high devotional hymns. Magic coiled on the back of his tongue; there was no Matron here to bring the lash down for any unseemly male outburst, and the last Watch patrol he’d seen had been two streets up.

Orange

Darkness wrapped them, the burnt orange flicker of a streetlamp outside catching all Rizeth’s perfect edges, setting his eyes ablaze.

Yellow

She had yellow daisies braided into her hair today, matching the sunny colour of her light shawl.

Green

Lord Stillgleam, elegant in a sea-green skirt and drapes of golden chain, stood with his hip cocked and one eyebrow raised behind his fan. He snapped it shut.

Blue

She took a pen from a cunning slot in the book’s spine, and tapped the end. A faint hum of magic lit the patterns along the wood, and she began to write in neat curls of deep blue Elvish. “I have trouble speaking my feelings,” she said, flicking a glance at him. Her eyes were as blue as her ink. “It caused some difficulties with Sir for a while, so now I write them down for him.”

Indigo

“I didn’t think you liked such sweet things, Master,” Ashenivir said, examining the silver plate of confections curiously. Fruit, in a dozen varieties, sugar-dusted and half-dipped in chocolate. “I like you, do I not?” Rizeth said. That pretty, delicate stain of indigo spread once more across Ashenivir’s face.

Violet

“Rise,” he said. Ashenivir got smoothly to his feet, keeping his arms folded behind his back. The muscles of his legs flexed, slim and strong, as well-kept as the leather in Rizeth’s hands. “Arms out behind your back, parallel—very good, Ra’soltha.” “Are you to bind me, Master? Those are long cuffs for doing that.” “Arms higher,” Rizeth said. He’d get his answer soon enough. He turned Ashenivir so he could see their reflections in the mirror as he slid the long sleeves onto his arms and laced them to fit snugly from mid-bicep to wrist. The rich russet leather paired excellently with his deep violet skin—a fact Ashenivir was all too clearly admiring alongside his Master.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @talesofsorrowandofruin @olliexwrites @willtheweaver and @aalinaaaaaa

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[kamwashere]

Read Chapter Four

SUMMARY—

A wave of affection and longing almost makes him stagger on his feet. Just seeing him in that suit—looking less than impressive, scratching his butt—makes him realize just how much he missed him. He missed his loud, annoying voice, how easy it seemed for him to read Peter’s mind, and how he never missed their nightly rendezvous on top of rooftops.

“Wade,” he inwardly cringes at how his voice catches, “Hi.”

Peter, fresh out of his multiversal escapades, gains a new perspective in life. One that includes a certain mouthy mercenary, perhaps?

TAGS—

OTHER LINKS—

entire work: all the skeleton you hide (show me yours, i’ll show you mine)

part two of new york isn’t new york without you

previous work: my heart is wild (and my bones are steel)

[spiderpupware]

[murahel]

Fanfics Masterpost

C.Y.B.E.R.V.E.R.S.E. series complete stories:

Hand Over The Relationship, Offish Decepticon! : Soundwave survives the fight with Tarn.

Standing Among The Blue: rewrite of a scene from s2 ep13 in which Optimus meets Solus Prime.

Transformers Cyberverse Fanfics Ideas:

Sapphic Shadow Striker/Windblade. Background Hot Rod~Soundwave being supportive.

"Wherever Bumblebee goes on Cybertron, Cheetor, be with him." If Cyberverse doesn't give me Cheetor remembrance, then I will. Maybe even a word from him from within the AllSpark. Featuring Bumblebee & Windblade's friendship post-war. Bee is sad in this one.

Hand Over sequel: Hot Rod and Soundwave accidentally complete the Conjunx Ritus. Shenanigans ensue, including a wedding Shadow Striker and Windblade might steal for themselves.

Transformers EarthSpark Fanfics Ideas:

Brave Educational Experience: or when the Terrans shatter Bumblebee's worldview through a single question. Sequel under consideration.

Shockwave & Wheeljack relationship, but still with their dynamic from in Cyberverse (dancing robots, Shockwave's invention liking Wheeljack (s2 ep10, Secret Science)). Also Wheeljack calls Shockwave out on his racism towards the Terrans/Twitch his daughter. Featuring Fluffy Ears since the show won't give her back to me. Senator Shockwave plotline.

The ones I probably won't write (may you feel free to appropriate this ideas for yourself):

Decepticons meeting up with Autobots at the border after defeating the Quintessons (too vague).

AU fix-it in which Starscream gets better (I just don't know his character enough).

The ones I said I wouldn't write but did in a way or another:

I've read a fic headcanoning Soundwave as a cityspeaker too, which I find interesting but don't think I'll write about it <- "Hand Over The Relationship, Offish Decepticon!" (chapter 5 especially)

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

Other stuff I've written unrelated to Transformers medias: ⬇️

And The Sun Snuffed Itself Out So Icarus Could Keep Flying: "In this world, Hawks doesn't lose his wings." MHA, canon-compliant up to the moment Hawks loses his alter to AFO. I've always felt like Endeavor/the Todoroki family owned him one after what Dabi does to him (also why the hell are people shipping Dabi and Hawks together wtf) and that with Endeavor's whole "redemption" thing he would at least try to protect Hawks more?? Maybe it's just me. Might get a sequel or follow up if I can work my mind around some plot. Learned Icare is called Icarus in eng so I edited that.

Triangle Is The Strongest Shape: Monastario/Zorro/Lolita trouple. I know, I've got you, you'll have at least one fic with the three of them (it's silly tho). I honestly don't know how Monastorio's name is canonically spelled.

Oh Little Angel's Family: the one I keep forgetting. Supernatural, it's about family feels among the angels (especially the archangels and Castiel) and isn't canon-compliant in the slightest. I think it diverges from canon at s4. It has an attempt to plot in it, it has. Anyway it's written in french and Michael is called Michel in it.

Not home: an Outer Worlds game character-study(ish) fic about the Captain being an outsider. Do not be fooled by the english title, it's written in french.

Star Wars. I've written many a fic of Star Wars stuff starring the Codywan ship, some in french that haven't been translated since I switched to full english. I've still got unfinished drafts of more fics including them which will probably never be finished because I can't be bothered, and I don't post unfinished drafts (there's one exception to this and I won't elaborate on it).

Ideas of fics that haven't been written (yet):

A Baroness fic. From The Cat Returns Ghibli movie. In which she either gets reunited with Baron or has Toto and other birds travel letters between them.

A Saint Seiya The Lost Canvas time-travel fix-it fic centering on Shion, in which Zeus is actually responsible for the Holy War and the Aries cloth has time powers because of Chronos. Featuring being hunted as a traitor by his fellow Golds, soul wound, and Lady Persephone.

A Kuraerti fic (you know. the one yall keep calling Clerifa like it's a fucking Pokémon.) post-canon, a timeline what timeline, everyobody lives, setting: Gold Saucer. Featuring an Oblivious!Cloud, background Reno/Rude, Zack being around, Rufus and his dog learning to be a Good PersonTM under mentorship from Dio, the most adults members of the group acting like parents and a frustrated Barret.

A Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic in which Kevin's family is actually from the mafia. His parents don't talk to him anymore because he married a cop and the whole Seamus situation gets worse because that's a mafia family kidnapping somedoby from another mafia family. It is unclear if Holt is aware or not.

[emsleyanbluejay]

“tagging your work appropriately” includes tagging your reader inserts as reader inserts i shouldn’t have to block a hundred different variations of “[character] x reader” to even have a chance of filtering it out

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LI

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Content warning: This chapter contains references to abuse, physical abuse, sexual assault and the consequences thereof, power imbalances with figures of authority, etc. While previous chapters touched on these topics regarding the MC’s past, this is the one that will be tackling these events the deepest and in more detail. If you are uncomfortable, click the back button and come back for Chapter 52. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter also posted on AO3.

The sentiment captured you in a self-sufficient whirlwind, one you hadn’t felt since before Sumeru.  It was lighter than the melancholy that gripped you when you first arrived at the Palace and sweeter than any decadent dessert you ever tasted.

You met the musicians, the conductor and manager, listened again when they didn’t know you were there.  There was a quality amongst them unlike any you’d heard before and they were consistent in keeping said quality.  When you said as much to the manager, they laughed as though it were a given.

They would be up to whatever challenge presented to them.

And when it came to creating said challenge…well…

You had ideas, certainly.  You listened to spin-crystals you found in the Palace Library, picking up unique motifs and rhythms from Snezhnayan composers.  Arrangement would matter just as much as the composition but you couldn’t arrange if you couldn’t write…

Nothing you put to paper sounded right.  Felt right.  You were so close.

All this energy and emotion and nowhere for it to go.

The memory sessions weren’t helping matters.  In fact, they seemed to just make everything worse.  You were irritable, prone to snapping more often, you felt hyperaware of when eyes were even glancing over you.  If you weren’t making any progress on anything, surely everyone else was seeing it, too.

One morning, Zandik found you curled up in your chair as you used your pen to trace notes in the air.  He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger as his crimson eyes examined you in the dim blue light of dawn.  He then took your hand, pen and all, searching your joints as his eyes remained on your face.  You winced; he frowned but opted for silence as he let you go and left your quarters. 

A loquacious man such as your soulmate never skipped an opportunity to hear himself speak.

Which meant everything he had to say was so obvious that he was not about to waste his time nor breath repeating himself.

Enough light passed through the window in front of you to make it just barely reflective and you caught a glimpse of your visage.  There would be no hiding the tell-tale signs beneath your eyes and your dry lips wouldn’t survive another escapade outside without bleeding.  Your entire spine felt as if it needed to be pulled out of your body and cracked like a whip.  Meanwhile, an entirely new hand wouldn’t be amiss.  Your fingers were stiff and your tendons didn’t cooperate long enough to let your muscles do what they needed to.

You propped your elbows up on your desk and buried your faces into the heels of your palms, pressing just hard enough to see stars. 

If you continued, you would fail. 

You knew that.

The thought plagued you as your head grew heavier and your arms moved of their own accord, your head sinking with them to the cool surface of your desk.  A little sleep wouldn’t harm anything.

“You cannot be serious.”

You stared groggily at the machines on your side of the bed from the doorway, across the room.  Heart and EEG monitors.  IV pole and dangling tubes.  When the hell had he brought those up? 

Had you napped so soundly or had Zandik simply relied on the veins of the world to close the distance?

Did it even matter?

“Your mind must process events in the order they occurred in to get to Omega’s next node.  I additionally find myself wondering if the last place we left your unconscious mind is bleeding into your waking existence, holding you back,” Zandik replied.

He spoke of the memories of too much wine and lingering touches, blatant favoritism and doting gifts.  Both of you knew the path ahead but only you would experience their pain again.

“You think I’m having trouble creating because I’m scared to succeed?” you spat, arms crossed and eyes burning.  “I think I’ve been composing and playing just fine.”

“Up until the Tsaritsa presented this opportunity, I am inclined to agree.  I believe it has less to do with your emotional response and more an instant connection that the second you succeed, or even get close to it, your own well-being is taken from you.”  He didn’t give you a chance to counter.  “Discussing my hypothesis will only do so much while you’re awake.”

You held his gaze across the expanse of the bed, skin crawling.  He said it so easily, as if this were simply a recipe to follow.  After all, he was watching your memories as one did a moving picture.  It was your mind and body that experienced the physiological responses and the result of dredging up what you wished you could forget.

“I know what I’m asking of you, it’s why I thought here was far better than the lab so you’re comfortable,” Zandik said, his gaze drifting from you to the pillow and then back again.  “You should know by now that I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t expect beneficial results.”

“Not because you’re curious, Zandik?”

Nothing stopped him from seeking knowledge and answers, ever.  You knew that.  This boundary was one the two of you skated around like children on a frozen lake; you never thought details were necessary when alluding to your patron’s behavior.  Several Fontainian orphans were taken into the House of the Hearth under similar circumstances, or so you heard.  And you were doubtful someone as clever as Zandik needed details spelled out for him.

“This is much for me as it is for you, lest you forget this entire process is meant to purge Omega from your memories and correct neural pathways.  I am not so much intrigued by your past experiences as I am aware that some things must surface in order for the rest to settle.  One’s past is precisely that: the past.  It does not wholly define but rather shapes us, calls for change in how it molds and carves.  And we must change, mustn’t we?  Otherwise we give in to what is laid before us.”

In a world full of cyclical rebirths and stars deciding one’s fate, change seemed almost moot.  You would have disagreed in part with him if presented with the notion when you first met; you changed your career but not your love of music, for no one could take that from you.  But both of you were given a connection long after you expected none at all, a change both loathed and adored.

You rounded the bed slowly, eyes drifting from the pillows, to the machines, and then back to Zandik when you drew closer.  Without missing a beat, you pressed your lips to the septum of his nose where it had broken more times than he wished to admit before you crawled under the covers to await the familiar sensation of falling.

The void was untouched, as it always was, the corridor expanding forever except for the pane through which you witnessed yourself.

You had worked through smaller memories since the last major session but nothing substantial.  Those were simply trials to perfect your method and help Zandik understand everything, step by step.

The gap between your last destroyed memory (which you only recalled in terms of your fist meeting the surface and cracking it) and the next time you saw your soulmate was not as lengthy as it seemed.  It felt like centuries but in truth, it was only a handful of years between the two lies Omega planted. 

Time was strange in this portion of your life.  When you looked back upon it in the waking world, it felt like it happened to someone else.  You entered that house, beautiful and just as foreboding as it was promising, and left a completely different person, fully aware of the lies your nation painted upon its people.

Everyone endured a form of suffering under that roof.  Even the house staff were not true allies despite treating guests well and bringing food or sneaking in medical assistance.  One bad day was enough to send words flying and no one went unpunished.

A shudder ran down your metaphorical spine and you wondered if such a sensation reached your physical body.

It was behind you.  It wouldn’t happen to you again.

Your memory banks knew precisely where to pick up from.  Beautiful gifts of a bow with expensive strings, perfume, a new kind of typewriter that allowed you to type notes instead of write them.  Balms for your hands.  A private tutor so you wouldn’t stagnate.

For you could always be better, couldn’t you?

One specific memory flickered as it passed by.  You didn’t need to watch it in full to remember the way the expensive plush rug felt beneath your knees.  Your nose recalled the smell of him when he pushed himself deep into your mouth.  Disappointment was warm, salty, and shoved down your throat instead of dinner.

You gagged and reached out to sort through faster.  The spaces in-between were blurry, deemed unimportant by your subconscious.  Your fingers hesitated as you caught sight of a bedroom not your own, opulent by comparison with a large poster bed with its own heavy curtains for privacy.

That first time had been full of praise, admiration, what you mistook for love.  You hadn’t understood, not then.  There were stories of performers and musicians finding their beloveds under patronage and class barriers being eroded.  You were eager to please the one who gave you support to pursue your dream.

And he was eager to rob you of them as often as he could.

He took you from behind the next time when you messed up too often during a rehearsal he sat in on.  The arm of the couch had pressed into your abdomen and between that and his harsh thrusts, you hadn’t been able to breathe.

And on it went.

Your cycle was late more than once and he was always careless.  Relief washed over you every time at the sight of blood.  Pain never felt as wonderful as it did then, for it meant you would be left alone.

Threats of broken fingers along with gentle caresses, soft brushes along your skin that made you feel sickeningly warm.  Gowns that exposed more skin than you wanted to show, legs on display at dinner parties due to skirts with high slits and your shoulders and breasts exposed for all to see. 

He was careful never to hit you or bite you the night before a party.  At least nowhere visible.

You finally came upon the memory you were looking over.  Omega stood before you, your hand in his as he pressed your knuckles to his lips, his white suit almost glowing in the candlelight of the salon. 

His entire visage was outlined, superimposed over someone else.  You reached out a finger and traced the seam, distinct now that you knew it was there, rough despite the sleekness of the flat crystalline surface.  Someone had kissed your hand that night, you recalled when you focused, but it had not been Omega; it had not even been a Fatui diplomat.  Your fingers picked away at Omega, shards plinking to the ground as you went and revealed an unremarkable face, one of many from such nights.  The stranger had remarked about your playing, about how you needed to take breaks, and then given your patron a knowing look and smile.

Such arrangements in Fontaine were open secrets among those who considered themselves the cornerstones of the arts and entertainment world.

Once again, the memory recognized the holes and mended them, filling in the gaps where Omega used to be. 

You experienced the party alone, mingling carefully to avoid too much attention (difficult to do when your dress was backless and bared your legs whenever you walked).  Every time eyes settled on you, your patron managed to pull you into a conversation, hand lingering on the small of your back in a silent message of ownership.

Meanwhile, your hands were locking up and you almost dropped your glass at dinner.  Holding your utensils was an arduous task you had to pretend was easy otherwise you would be left with no energy. 

Knives shot through your forearms and into your fingers when you took your position after dinner and your skin prickled.  Between your pain and the irritating material of the dress, you were a hair’s width away from asking to excuse yourself; a glare across a glass of wine made you think better of it.  Playing that night felt as if your blood contained glass shards and every minute movement was searing agony.

It didn’t get better.

You were dragged from guest to guest, glued to your patron’s side, his hand never leaving your hip.  He flaunted his playthings, his toys, and every inch where you could sense his presence, your skin burned.  If you were paper, you would have long since turned to ash and you would have been grateful.

There was no flash of white tailcoats.  No teal hair.  No experimental touches to ease your tendons.

Instead, you felt bruises bloom across your flesh and the telltale warmth of blood from where nails dug into your skin.  Your dress was taken off of you in harsh, frustrated tugs and the intrusion, while expected, had you wondering if you would, finally, be split in two.

The memory ended and for a moment, you could only stare at the dark panel, your reflection looking back at you.  You frowned, the sensation that you had forgotten something sitting heavy in your mind as you raised a hand and flicked through future sequences.

Concealed applications and hidden compositions.  Smuggling your cello in and out of the manor as you tried to keep track of your story and excuse for leaving the house.  You endured what you had to all the while.

You paused the memories on the offer letter you received from the orchestra and your heart soared, just as it had back then.  Waves lapped at your feet and you could still hear the guttural sounds of nearby Blubberbeasts as they lounged on the shore.

Free. 

Golden Vision in your other hand. 

A signature, a signet ring, the Stone clutched behind your back.  Farewells were easy, for you couldn’t get out of the oppressive aura of the house quick enough. 

The events, at least thus far, were the same as you knew them to be.  Entirely unchanged.  That made sense…

You sifted through images of playing for Lady Furina and Monsiuer Neuvillette.  A starry night in Liyue among familiar faces.  A summer in Mondstadt where the air was crisp and the wine was sweet.  Music poured out of you, a professional saw to your hands and provided a regimen, and you could laugh without fear of repercussions.  Sumeru’s greenery came into view, the loop finally closing.

There was no memory of your orchestra traveling to Snezhnaya.  You never arrived here with anyone other than Zandik.  No ball, no greenhouse, no near kiss.  No secluded existence with Omega, no oozing purple ore.

All of that, nothing more than a fleeting dream.

Your eyes burned as you opened them, your vision watery and your senses tangled.  It took you a second to move your toes, flex your muscles, your brain playing catch up as you focused on singular movements.  Phantom pain danced on every nerve, although you couldn’t recall the actual pain such sensations were meant to mimic. 

Tears seared your cheeks as you ran your hands over the cool, smooth sheets and tried to look around.  This was real, you reminded yourself.  The bed was real; the curtains near the window were real; the man with his gaze fixed on the outside world was real.

Air was stolen from you when the realization truly sank in and you could only open your mouth in a soundless scream.  Your squeezed your eyes shut.

Zandik had never been there.  Not once.

No one had been there.

You saved yourself.  You’d had to.

A harsh beeping infiltrated your thoughts and you heard mutterings mingled with your own choking sobs.  Your heart pounded as gloved hands pulled at sticky nodes along your chest and freed you of the sounds.  Words were audible but never lingered.  You caught careful reassurances and words in another language you didn’t understand from a voice that made your very being as light as a feather.

The same hands that removed the nodes moved the covers and shifted you as long legs brushed yours.  You found yourself pressed against a hard chest, sandalwood and mint making your nose tingle as you gripped the blue fabric of a shirt. 

The world fell away around you as you fell asleep to nature’s metronome, a steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

[willowser]

my heart's aflame, my body's strained (but, god, i like it)—

werewolf!bakugou x f!reader

ao3 | playlist

tags: nsfw, smut (18+), modern au (no quirks), continuous talk of death and grief and loss, talk of dead body/corpse, possessive behavior, some violence, *rough sex, **attempted sexual assault, *bakugou is actually so animalistic in this one please understand, heavy angst, ungodly amounts of mutual pining, time-skip, i leaned a bit into the southern gothic theme. (tags subject to change)

...coming soon !

*bakugou is — quite literally — a bit feral in this. i've decided to forgo a dubcon tag, but i want to warn that at one point reader is a bit resistant to him and he does not listen. it's a very much consensual situation and is meant to be taken as the reader being a bit nervous or surprised maybe, but not unwilling or uncomfortable.

**there is, however, a very specific scene in which the reader is forced into an interaction beyond their control and is touched and handled in a way that's without their consent, and not wanted or welcomed at all. it doesn't come from bakugou, it's not very long or graphic, and there's no penetration, but just be advised.