#fic: heading straight to you

[lucienarcheron]

Heading Straight to You [ Elucien ]

Inspired by @washmchineheart elucien post here. I went a little nuts in the tags again and needed to write it out. A little Bridgerton-inspired Elucien, if you will! I hope you all enjoy it :)

Genre: Angsty/Romance | Masterlist | AO3

shoutout to @zenkindoflove for letting me talk it out with you :)

Gods, Elain had never been so angry in her life.

He had sent her a letter.

A letter.

The nerve of it made Elain snarl under her breath as she stomped towards his humble abode in the Night Court, her anger increasing with each step she took; she was glad Feyre had the foresight not to ask questions when Elain had stormed out. 

Elain wasn’t foolish. Did she even have a right to be this angry? Probably not and yet she was simmering with rage.

She knew she hadn’t made things easy for him. Hadn’t really given him too much of a chance to get to know her. But she had been trying. 

Yes, she was still hesitant and careful and awkward around him. With everyone watching their every move, how could she not be! 

But for him to send her a letter? A letter! As if it would be so easy to answer such a question. As if he couldn’t even dignify her with a face-to-face conversation. 

Elain was in front of his home and pounding on his door faster than she expected. 

Lucien opened the door with a mildly confused expression until he saw that it was her standing before him and carefully arranged his features. 

Elain could only hold up the letter, fuming at his calm demeanor.

“I see you received my letter.” 

“How dare you.” she spat.

Lucien narrowed his eyes before silently stepping back and opening his door further, gesturing with his hand for her to come in. “A note with your answer would have sufficed.” he said blandly. “You didn’t have to come all this way to break the news to me.”

Elain didn’t move from his doorway. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Lucien lifted a brow at his mate, a muscle flexing in his jaw before he answered, “Why would it be a joke?” he asked. “Is there something about my letter that was unclear?”

“You sent me a letter.” she snapped. 

“Yes.” he said again in that bland tone that Elain wasn’t used to and did not appreciate. “Though I fail to understand why you seem so upset by it.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me in the last few weeks and instead of trying to have a conversation about this in person, you sent me a stupid letter asking me that?” 

Lucien watched her as she watched him, noting how his grip had tightened on the doorframe. “Why would I seek you out when the moment you know I’m in the city you hide away or make an excuse to avoid me?” he asked curtly. “I’ve been polite about it enough, I think.” 

He stood before her, dressed impeccably as always, his expression now stoic like he hadn’t sent her a devastating question to answer. It made her want to throttle him.

Elain scoffed then opened the letter, gripping it tightly as she read it aloud,

My lady,

As you may have noticed, the communication between us has continued to dwindle and at this point, I will not continue to delude myself into thinking you have any interest in seeing what could be between us. I have given you as much grace as I can extend, but I am reaching a limit that is impacting my own well-being. Please know that I understand we do not owe each other affection but I had thought we at least owed each other a conversation to see if we could be, at the bare minimum, friends. You don’t seem inclined to want that and as such, I am sending you this letter to ask you a question that will release us both from this limbo we’ve been left in.

Do you wish to sever the bond between us? If so, please let me know. A simple yes will be enough.

Regards, Lucien Vanserra 

“Regards!” she snapped. “This is not the kind of thing you ask someone via letter.”

“Again, you’ve never stayed in the same room long enough for me to ask for a conversation.”

Elain flushed. He was right, of course. She couldn’t really deny that this was one of the things she was stubborn about. 

And at first, she was overwhelmed. And sad. And trying to find herself again. Now…now? She wasn’t even sure. She was nervous. Embarrassed. Lost.

He worked his jaw as she glared at him then gestured again to his home. “Would you like to come inside and discuss this?” he asked. “I don’t think this is the kind of conversation we should be having where we could be overheard.”

Elain scoffed and moved past him, shoving the letter to his chest as she stomped into his living room and tried not to think about the brief contact she made with his chest. 

She wouldn't think about that at all when he was asking her to cut ties. 

“You care if people overhear us but are fine to send this in a letter.”

“And?” he asked, his tone sharper than it had ever been with her as he joined her in his living space. “I’m happy to give you an additional night if you’d like to think about it but given the way you’ve actively avoided me for years and barely speak in my presence, I would’ve thought you’d be jumping for joy at the chance to say yes.”

“Oh, and you know me so well to anticipate what kind of responses I would give you?” She asked, her tone veering on a sneer that she had never heard herself use.

“Considering you act as though I’m a parasite here to infect you, I made an educated guess based on the very loud thoughts you yell my way from the noose of a thread wrapped around our throats.”

Elain pursed her lips, the angry flush on her cheeks deepening. “So you admit it’s a burden and not a gift?”

“It is a gift but if you don’t wish to see it that way, I am not a male who forces his company on anyone and I am sick of waiting for you to grow a spine and request to cut the ties between us.” he snapped quietly. “You toy with me and my time. One day you grant me a moment of your company, the next you pretend I don’t exist. You may think I’m a statue with no emotions but I can assure you, my lady, I can only tolerate so much. This has gone on long enough.” Elain watched him with narrowed eyes as he adjusted his stance, his gaze burning a hole through her body. “So I’ll ask you again, do you wish to sever this bond between us?” 

Elain felt her body heat and if she could burst into flames she would. 

Yes, she’d been resistant. Yes, she’d avoided him. 

But gods, he really had no idea.

She had been human. She was going to be married and had a whole life planned out. She wouldn’t have these powers that she had no control over. She wouldn’t have these nightmares of being kidnapped in the middle of the night. Her brain wouldn’t have to keep reliving the horrors of the cauldron. She wouldn’t have to keep pretending she was fine.

It wasn’t even him that was the problem. It was everything else. It was her life being snatched from her. It was her choices being stripped away as a casualty for a war she had nothing to do with.

It was that he had been nothing but polite to her since they met despite her avoidance. 

It was that this bond made her hate herself for staying away from him because every fiber in her body only urged her to go to him instead.

“You think it is so easy to sever this bond?” she hissed, glaring at him. “I’m not a fool – I understand the consequences that would follow such an action. I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”

“Don’t pretend you’re worried about me, my lady. If I am to lose my mind at the expense of you being free from the shackles that tie you to me, I will do it.” he snapped. “If only to stop feeling like a beggar for scrapes at your feet.”

“I never asked you to wait.” 

“Your problem is that you barely speak to me, much less ask for anything.”

“Well I never asked for this!”

“And I never asked for you.”

Elain recoiled like he’d slapped her and a pregnant silence filled the room. She could only stare at him and her chest suddenly ached. 

He’d never taken such a tone with her. Then again, she’d barely allowed him to converse with her. 

Elain worked her jaw, the thundering of her heart pounding in her ears and all her senses couldn’t help but focus only on Lucien. The scent of him. The way his gaze bore into her, his mechanical eye clicking as they faced each other. 

She could resist him all she wanted, but Elain had always known that whatever her fate was, it would always find her and Lucien Vanserra had been her fate since the Cauldron spat her out to start this new life.

They orbited around each other enough that Elain knew no matter what she said or did, she knew exactly who would haunt her thoughts the moment she lay in her bed. She could ignore him all she wanted but thoughts of her mate would consume her every moment. 

“For someone that doesn’t want me, you certainly don’t act like it.” she breathed and she had never seen the expression of disdain on his face aimed towards her as he scoffed. 

“For the record my attempts to connect with you is what trying looks like. It is you who does not want me.” he retorted. “I have done nothing but give you space as I expressed interest in getting to know you at your own pace time and time again. It is you who has never taken a moment to even see if whatever this is between us is worth exploring. And now I am sick of waiting.” He took a step towards her, anger radiating off every inch of him. “So answer me.”

“Do not demand things from me when it could –.”

“Answer the question and free me from this torment.” 

“Free you?” she bristled and took a step towards him. “You think it’s torment for you? You think I want you to feel this way? Do you think I want to feel this way?” 

“And what way is that, Elain?” he hissed and the sound of her name from his lips nearly made her shudder. 

“You think I want to be consumed by you? Sensing your every move?” she breathed. “You think I want to think about your arms holding me at one of the most traumatizing moments of my life? You think I want to think about how the sound of your heartbeat has been the only way I can allow myself to sleep? You think I want to think about how overwhelmed I become with your scent that if I don’t remove myself from the room immediately, I’ll do something reckless that I know I’ll regret?”

“Oh? And what reckless action is that?” he sneered. “If it’s a stab to my throat, you’d only be putting me out of my misery.” 

“Do not pretend that severing this bond will change anything about the way your presence clouds my judgment and jumbles my every thought.” she snapped. “Do you think there is a single corner of this land you could go to that wouldn’t feel like you’re taking my very breath with you? Do you think distance would free me from the torment that being around you is?” Elain closed the distance between them and jabbed her finger into his chest. “You – you – you are the curse of my fae existence and despite all my resistance – you – you –” She took a shaky breath as she stared at him, the confession she’d been so desperate to keep secret slipping from her lips, “Are the object of all my deepest longings.” 

Her lips trembled as she watched his hands slacked at his sides, his expression falling into surprise but Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. 

How could she make him understand? 

Love was something Elain had always craved. The courtship. The romance. The yearning.

If the circumstances had been different – if she had met Lucien before Graysen – the idea of a soulmate was exactly what she wanted. Feyre had explained it to her so well and mates was something a hopeless romantic like her would’ve waited for. Would’ve craved. Someone who was her equal. Someone who saw her and loved her, flaws and all.

Instead, Elain had been a human girl who had fallen in love with a human man who threw her to the side the moment she no longer fit the mold he needed her to. She held on to their short-lived romance, to that engagement as a way to keep the last shred of her humanity in any way that she could. She could hide her ears and fight against her visions. She could resist this bond as long as she could. 

But her fingers were bloodied and bruised from how hard she was holding on to something that wasn’t meant for her. She had been trying to shove the door closed on Lucien for years and the door refused to shut. Whenever Elain tried to approach him and see if there was something there, it scared her. It terrified her to feel the way the thread at her ribcage tugged her towards him. To know that everything she’d had before was a waste. 

And now she had confessed just how much he affected her and her cheeks flushed at the shell-shocked silence between them. She had stunned him into silence and had just opened her mouth to spew more at him when a feral look overtook his face and Lucien leaned closer to her as if he couldn’t resist being in her space.

“You think you don't haunt my every waking moment?” he growled and Elain’s brows narrowed, her expression hardening at his tone. “Do you think I have known peace since I've met you? If I am the curse of your existence, you are the catalyst that blew up my life and yet— I can do nothing but yearn for you.” Elain felt her chest rise and fall rapidly as he seemed to breathe her in, barely any space between them. She watched as he worked his jaw, glancing down at her lips then meeting her gaze again before saying, “If I am the object of your longings, know that you have infiltrated my every breath – my every thought and I have never been so thoroughly intoxicated by anyone the way I have been by you. And I can do nothing but let myself drown by it.”

A heart beat of silence passed. Then another.

And Elain felt hot and cold at the same time as a heated silence enveloped them and she couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in his features so up close, even as anger stood between them. She licked her lips as she stared at him and watched as his eyes flashed, the flush spreading to her neck. 

Was there a point to her resistance then? He clearly had no qualms the way she did but –

But Elain was sick of thinking and overthinking. She was sick of it all.

How dare he ask her that question then proceed to confess such feelings to her? 

Lucien’s lip curled, despite the stain of red on his cheeks. “Is there something else you’d like to spew –”

“Shut up.” she snapped and before she could stop herself, Elain yanked him by his tunic and pulled him down to press her lips to his. 

The very air between them came to a halt and it was like the world had tilted on its axis. 

Their kiss was an eruption of fireworks – a dam that was now flooding and the very blood in her veins was singing. Lucien seemed to hesitate for a breath then his hands immediately wrapped around Elain’s waist and she allowed an arm to slide around his neck, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepened. 

And it came to her with alarming clarity exactly how foolish she had been the last few years.

She had been holding on to the idea of what Graysen had given her when kissing him was nothing compared to Lucien’s lips on her now. 

He was the light – he was the sun and Elain felt her body glow as she sank quickly into his flames as every inch of her craved more, more, more. 

His kisses were just as hungry as hers, soft noises slipping from her before she could stop them and her embarrassment was only soothed by Lucien’s matching groans. Before either of them could stop, Lucien had Elain pressed against him as he lifted her and turned swiftly to seat her on his dining table and she let him. She let him stand between her legs, her dress riding up as he leaned even closer, every inch of their bodies touching as his mouth caressed her lips in kisses, nipping, and biting in a way that told her he wanted to imprint his lips on hers and gods, did Elain want him to.

Elain was nearly clawing at his back with how tightly she was gripping him as he stole her breath away and she wondered if she had ever actually experienced passion before this moment. 

“Stop – thinking –” he demanded between kisses, his hand sliding to the back of her neck and squeezing gently.

“I’m not –” 

“Don’t you –” 

“Lucien –” 

His lips mapped out a path from her jaw down her neck with a swiftness that made Elain’s breath stutter and she wanted more – more that he provided her with when his lips found hers again in a searing kiss that had her seeing stars.

She felt that tug of fate between them. She felt that magic. 

Elain’s hands traced his muscled back, tugging on strands of his hair as he stole more and more kisses. She didn’t know what to do with herself but let him – she let him take what she’d been so reluctant to give and Elain – gods, she felt and wanted and needed – 

A crash startled them both to a halt and they turned as one to find the source of the noise – a vase lay shattered on the floor. 

Elain blinked at the sight of the familiar flowers that had scattered. Those were from her garden.

And it was like a bucket of cold water had poured over her when she glanced back at Lucien, both of them breathing hard. 

She could only watch him and think about the feeling of his lips on hers, the way his tongue had tasted hers, and the way his hand was touching her skin.

She could only think about her flowers in his home and her expression shuddered as her heart began thumping so loudly. She had been so angry with him and yet she’d been the one to grab him and – embarrassment suddenly coursed through her and she fought to keep her expression from falling.

As always, he seemed to sense the change in her emotions and his expression shifted as he slowly released her and carefully assisted her to slide off the table without looking at her. Her pulse fluttered nervously as she watched him back away a step, taking a deep breath and Elain quickly straightened herself, running a hand through her hair. She licked her lips, feeling the ghost of him. 

“Well.” 

Lucien stole a glance at her and she watched as he shook his head and turned away from her, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m sorry.” he said tightly and Elain’s brows furrowed.

“For what?” 

Without looking at her, he gestured around helplessly. “You may have initiated it but I allowed it and it’s in exact contradiction to the question I wanted an answer for.” he muttered. “I am a gentleman but I fear that whatever shred of sanity I am holding on to is hanging by a thread around you.” 

Elain bit the inside of her cheek, observing the way he was holding himself. She was sure he felt the way their bond was taut at their proximity, in the aftermath of their kiss.

A kiss she would surely be thinking about more later.

“I’d think what just happened would answer your question.” she finally allowed herself to say and Lucien half turned towards her.

“You say that but how do I know you won’t go back to avoiding me?” he asked. “How do I know it meant anything more than a moment of curiosity for you?” Lucien turned away from her again, tension lining his back. “Anger brought you here. Anger I’m not sure I even understand. I only ask that you don’t toy with me. Please.”

The embarrassment that had washed over her earlier was nothing compared to how she felt now. How it felt to feel his own embarrassment and discomfort sit in the air between them. 

Had she really been that cruel? Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t taken that much time to consider what all of this had done to him?

She frowned. Elain wouldn’t deny it had crossed her mind but Lucien had always done a decent job of keeping his emotions in check around her that she didn’t…feel the need to dig deeper. She was stuck in her head, worrying about herself enough that she didn’t try to venture outside of her own struggles. 

She’d been too busy pretending she was okay. 

Shame coiled in her chest and she felt her shoulders droop. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad about yourself.” Lucien said quietly, his back still to her. “I just…can’t keep doing this. This limbo will drive me more crazy than severing a bond ever could. Especially now…now that I know what you taste like.”

Elain’s hands tightened in the folds of her dress and she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Gods, she really had been thoughtless in coming here. She had been angry that he wanted to sever a tie that she herself hadn’t tried to explore further. Out of fear. Out of cowardness. Out of sheer stubbornness. 

Did she just assume he’d lie in wait for her? Who was she to drag someone along in such a way? She hadn’t asked for this but neither had he and Lucien had been more patient with her than most would be. 

He knew how she felt. He could probably sense more about her mental state than anyone else could and maybe that was what terrified her so much. 

But it certainly didn’t excuse her choices.

A heart beat of silence passed then Elain swallowed and finally whispered, “You’re right.” She took a breath then added, “I’m sorry.” 

Lucien seemed to stiffen and she watched as he clenched his hands at his sides then unclenched them. “Is that your answer then?” he asked quietly.

Her heart dropped. “No!”

Lucien turned around to face her with furrowed brows. “Then what are we doing, Elain?”

She licked her lips again and curled a strand of hair behind her ear. “I – I don’t know.” she answered and knew she couldn’t be anything but honest with him as he watched her, his gaze burning through her.

“Then tell me why you came here. Tell me why my letter made you angry.”

She pursed her lips and her throat bobbed. Again, she forced herself to be honest. 

“Despite your belief that I only avoid you – which I did for a while, I don’t deny that –” Elain began slowly. “I had been slowly working my way up to reaching out to you for a few weeks. I was – am hesitant about it because of the time that has passed between us.” She glanced at him and her cheeks flushed further at his gaze. “Your letter came and caught me by surprise.” 

“Did you think I would wait around forever?” he asked softly and though his tone wasn’t accusatory, Elain felt the shame sit heavily on her chest. 

Her fingers tightened again in the folds of her dress. “No.” she answered. “You have no obligation to do so.”

“No, I don’t.” he answered carefully and Elain tried not to let herself deflate at the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I – I understand.” 

“Do you?” he said with a strained laugh. “Because I don’t.” 

She bit her lips and flushed deeply when he squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. “Now you understand how I feel.” she whispered. “How my brain behaves when it comes to you. I am lost and confused and embarrassed and I – I –” Elain looked away from him, her hand on her throat as she fought the onslaught of emotions.  “I am overwhelmed.”

“Why?” Lucien asked gently. 

“Because you’re supposed to be my soulmate but to me, love is a choice and I didn’t choose this.” she confessed and Lucien blinked then blinked again. 

“I understand why it doesn’t feel like a choice.” he began then tilted his head observing her. “But what we do with the mating bond is a choice. We choose to accept it. We choose to adjust it. We choose to – to sever it. We can choose to make it whatever we want.”

It was Elain’s turn to blink as Lucien continued with a small, albeit sad smile. “It only requires a conversation.”

Elain suddenly felt the urge to vomit right all over his lush carpet. “Fate doesn’t feel like a choice.” she whispered and the beating of her heart seemed to increase as his gaze softened on her. 

“I’ve always found that fate is what you make of it and that is always the right choice.” he replied.

A sense of unexpected relief seemed to wash over her at the understanding that now sat between them. She hadn’t known what to expect when she made her way over to him. Her irrational anger had fueled her steps and now…now Elain felt relieved. Calmer, albeit still a tad embarrassed.

But she had needed this. They had needed this. 

They observed each other in the silence and Elain let herself see him for who he was. She let herself take in his handsome face and broad shoulders – she allowed herself to catalog every inch of him. She should’ve done it sooner.

“So…” she began softly. “Where do we go from here?” 

The corner of Lucien’s mouth lifted slightly. “That depends. I still need a clear answer to my letter.”

Roses bloomed on her cheeks as she said, “Is it still not obvious at this point?”

“A simple yes or no will do, Elain.”

Elain’s eyes narrowed slightly at Lucien and though his tone was teasing, his gaze was not. 

So she cleared her throat before primly answering, “My answer to your letter is no. I do not wish to do that.”

A pleasant tension filled the space between them as they stood a few feet apart as though they hadn’t been drawn to each other from the moment they’d met those years ago. As though they hadn’t just had their hands all over each other. As though their lips hadn’t only just tasted each other and were already tingling, craving more. 

“And…does that mean you wish to spend time actually getting to know each other?” he asked carefully.

Elain’s throat bobbed. Maybe it was time they finally explored what the Mother had given them. Maybe it was time she stopped being so stupidly afraid.

“Yes.” 

Lucien slowly nodded. “Good.” 

“Great.”

“Then you owe me a date.” 

Elain blinked rapidly. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Lucien said and at her expression, his lips twitched – and it was like all the anger and discomfort that had been between them earlier had simply washed away. “You owe me a date.”

“I do believe I am a lady and ladies are meant to be courted.” she said with amusement. “Unless fae customs are different and I somehow missed the memo.”

“Oh no, my lady – that is the typical structure.” he said and the smile he gave her was the most fae-like expression she’d ever seen. “However, you missed the memo where I have attempted to court you in the past and you shut me down at every turn.”

Elain made a noise of protest but Lucien held up a hand. “Please Elain, I need you to keep it together. There is no need to rush with a proposal at this time.” 

Her expression flattened but her mate only smirked at her. “Feyre did warn me that you have an obnoxious streak but I didn’t think I’d see it so quickly.”

Lucien snorted. “Bold of your sister to say that considering who her mate is.” he said and Elain’s lips couldn’t help but twitch. “Regardless, I do expect you to woo me properly.”

“Do you, now?” she asked with a raised brow and Lucien’s response was a small smirk.

“But of course. I look forward to seeing what you can come up with.” 

Elain could only shake her head in disbelief and they stood in that comfortable silence for a moment before Lucien gestured with a hand to the living room.

“Would you like to stay for a drink?” he asked quietly and though Elain did wish to stay, she knew she needed to process what had just happened between them.

So she shook her head with a small smile. “Don’t you know? I apparently have a date to plan.”

And as she sat at her desk later that evening, she thought about how she had left his home feeling lighter than she had in a long while. She thought about the smile he had given her as they said goodbye. She thought about how he had walked her to his door and felt his eyes on her the entire way home. 

It only seemed right that what started with a letter should continue with one and so, Elain sent him one of her own that same night. 

My lord,

I would like to know if you would humble me with your presence and accept my invitation to dinner this Thursday at 6pm at Servanda’s Resturant. Your charm and chivalry have caught my attention and it would be an honor to spend the evening with you. 

Please let me know your response at your earliest convenience. 

Yours truly, Elain Archeron

His response came an hour later and Elain nearly walked over to his home to truly throttle him.

My lady,

Thank you for noticing my charm. I have no doubt that you are already enamored by me.

As for your request, I will think about my availability. Please note my preferences for sunflowers to roses and plan accordingly. 

Yours truly,

Lucien Vanserra

Elain scoffed at his audacity then chuckled softly; it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve his teasing. 

Noticing a small arrow on the bottom of the letter, she quickly turned it over to find an additional message and for the first time in a long time, excitement bloomed in her chest.

PS. I’d be delighted. Thursday night it is.

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[ipleadbritney]

oscar knowing lando for more than 4 minutes straight

I posted this to TikTok a long time ago, but my target community really was Tumblr. All of your landoscar discourse can just be so endearing and so thoughtful, I simply had to. Special thanks to @otterpiastri for the research on Oscar's Twitter likes (our man was one of 2 likes on posts about Lando, come on).

This was also an exercise for me, since I was trying to emulate bits of this dynamic on my fic. At a certain point, writing wasn't enough. I needed visual proof of it, so. Yeah!

[queerofthedagger]

sometimes. what i like to read or write in fic or just generally play around with.... is different and, dare i say, sometimes even contradicting to what i think the canonical reading is offering. like yeah he would not fucking say that but every once in a while i do like to indulge. sue me

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game

tim creates a clone of kon, but this is dicktim tim has to carry the fetus or breastfeed it, but dick suddenly gets a mommy kink and immediately falls in love

for the ask game!

DICKTIM MOMMY KINK. how did you know i have such a thing for just about any Batcest ship where the other person calls Tim mommy. i don't even know why i just think that shit is so fun.

it'd have to be Omegaverse for me, that's the only scenario i personally could write m-preg. i like the thought of no one knowing that Tim has gone on this crusade. and after 99 failures, Tim's so desperate and angry he tries in vitro fertilization. the first few times it doesn't work so he doesn't take it too seriously, at this point it's just a compulsion. he gets to a point he stops taking the pregnancy tests. so when about a month later, he's experiencing morning sickness and he's missed his heat, Tim has an 'oh, shit.' moment. and well. telling Dick first is his *natural* answer. (i think he'd also go to Steph, but in canon she'd be "dead" at this point) Tim doesn't know what to do, he didn't think he'd get this far. Dick is comforting and grounding, agreeing to help Tim hide this the best he can. Tim has to time it right, fake a bad injury so it makes sense he's benched and wearing baggy sweaters for a few months.

it's platonic at first. Dick is an alpha but his bond with Tim is more of a pack bond and he's just trying to help Tim through this awkward situation he got himself into. (and not laugh at him too much in the process bc well. only Tim. only Tim could manage this.) the pregnancy hormones have Tim all over the place. he's seeking comfort and Dick is trying to keep it platonic and professional, even when he's cuddling Tim or bringing him weird cravings at 2 am. the trust in Dick and Tim's bond makes Dick Tim's only real support system. (also just bc the Titans were a goddamn mess in this era) maybe at some point they tell Bruce the truth but Bruce is dealing with Jason so. bigger fish. it forces them closer as Dick is the only one who can help Tim with the awkward sides of pregnancy. Dick is basically living with Tim and because Tim can't satiate the itch to be in the field (he's tried sneaking out, it earned him a lecture from Dick and a warning that Dick would handcuff him to the radiator if Tim tried that again) so Tim runs comms. for anyone who asks, but mostly for Dick, to the point he's in Dick's ear even when Dick doesn't need the backup, just to keep each other company.

i think, as the pregnancy went on and Tim's chest started to fill out and his hips are bigger, that's when Dick's feeling shift. one second Tim is just his pack, the next Tim is suddenly a very pretty, very vulnerable omega that's Dick is protecting and his wires get all kinds of crossed about it. he starts dousing himself in scent blockers so Tim doesn't notice the change, can't smell how much Dick wants him. which makes Tim annoyed because Dick's scent has been a consistent calming factor keeping the worst of his hormones in check. it'd lead to an awkward fight where Dick is dancing around the truth and Tim just wants to bite him out of anger. finally, Dick admits it and. Tim kind of bluescreens bc sure he's had a crush on Dick for years, but it's sort of like your celebrity crush calling you up and asking for a date. it makes no sense and he can't wrap his head around it. he almost thinks Dick is making fun of him, because Tim is super self-conscious about the pregnancy and mortified he put himself in this situation. it takes a lot of reassurance and a long conversation, but. well, they do end up having sex.

Dick doesn't *mean* to call Tim mommy the first time. he knows Tim hates being emasculated as an omega, and knows Tim is vulnerable about being pregnant. their sex is gentle, no matter how much Tim insists he can take it because Dick doesn't want to hurt the baby, or Tim. it's when Tim finally huffs with annoyance and flips them over -reminding Dick that Tim is still trained and deadly, even like this- to take control and actually get the rough sex he needs right now, when it slips out. there's something just very pretty about Tim taking control and taking what he needs from Dick, but still being whiny and squirmy on top of him. so the first time Dick calls him mommy is an accident and they're *both* startled by just how much they like it. their sex life goes from soft and caring to *very* interesting overnight, where Dick doesn't hide how much he likes Tim's chest. and well. breastfeeding kink. for completely scientific reasons, of course. just to help the milk flow and make sure Tim's body is adjusting well. definitely not bc of the noises Tim makes when Dick does it no sir.

when Tim finally has the clone baby, they're both smitten with this tiny clone. i think they'd end up mating and either say it's Dick's baby or they adopted it. (the lie only works short term bc well, sooner or later that baby's going to start lifting trucks. not to mention Kon does come back to life and is perturbed by how much Tim's kid looks like him.) it's a very cute, fluffy happily ever after sort of deal, with plenty of mommy kink. i think Tim would be huffy and annoyed at how long he'd have to wait for sex bc in my mind, Tim uses sex as a stress relief and is very annoyed when he's deprived of it so, they'd find creative ways around it.

[factsilike]

One of the things I very much hate about modern AUs in MDZS is how the fic writers Americanise everything about the characters until the only thing Asian about them is their name.

[thesummerstorms]

Long rough draft piece of my Rook de Riva being confronted with her past while Lucanis is stuck trying to reconcile his knowledge with his emotions while feeling protective.

One day, eventually, in the course of many much more impossible events, one day after an entire life time, Arsinoë de Riva finally walks out of an Eluvian and into the gaze of one of her Apostate mother's former collaborators.

After, Arsinoë will explain that he recognizes her because the name she gives the innkeeper was one of her mother's years ago. In the moment, all Lucanis knows is that they're being followed.

Lucanis and Arsinoë both immediately pick up on the fact that this elderly "farmer" has too much interest, is following a little too close. In the slight shift of a stance, a glancing look at the other's face, they come to agreement, easier than even he and Illario once could. They both have weapons ready as they turn into a deserted side street.

(Bellara is not quite as quick on the uptake despite their subtle efforts.)

The glint of steel and then Lucanis is moving. There is light and heat pouring over Arsinoë's gloved hand, a second away from bathing them in fire.

But the Elven man hasn't drawn on them. Instead, he's placed himself between Bellara and a red-crystal blade, swearing back in colorful Antivan when the Venatori exalt the name of the Great God Lusacan. Blood follows, and magic, the sweep of violet wings and the gleam of Bellara's bow.

Blood follows. Then silence as the man turns to look at Arsinoë critically, athame still unsheathed.

Lucanis doesn't move to put himself between them. He is a Crow: she is a Crow; it would be an insult to them both and all their training. Still, the urge is there, amplified in Spite's hissing demands, all of them centered on Rook.

The stranger seems unconcerned by Lucanis or by Bellara's rushed questioning. He keeps one brow raised as he asks "Corina Soldati, huh?" When Arsinoë doesn't answer, he adds 'You look like her, you know. More scars, but the face is the same."

Arsinoë doesn't twitch, but it's actually the stillness that gives her away. It would to any Crow — that unnatural, frozen poise of a child who has been beaten until they learn not to react, not to let the gasp or whimper slip past their lips.

Spite senses it too, his agitation palpable and roiling behind Lucanis's eyes, pushing for movement, to bring steel against this stranger who has FRIGHTENED startled Rook. Lucanis, like that same Crow child, does not react. He holds, ready, waiting for the shift in Arsinoë's stance that will give him permission to strike.

"Corina...Soldati?" Bellara asks, eyes flitting back and forth between Rook and the stranger. "Wait, is that a real person? Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Lucanis has never heard of a Corina Soldati in any capacity connected with the Crows, or in any of Caterina's careful strategizing around the merchant princes and their houses, but that doesn't have to mean anything. The part that matters is why the man cares.

If this is some past job come back to haunt Rook, it would better to end this now, quickly, and make their escape back through the Eluvian towards Treviso, where Viago can be apprised as Arsinoë's Talon. How Bellara would take that, though –

Rook still has not spoken- as uncharacteristic of her as her stony face, and that's setting off its own alarms- when the man interrupts his silent strategizing.

"She had other names. Antiklea, maybe. Antiklea Zangari?" A pause. "Fuck, you two don't know anything, do you." It isn't a question. "Well then, kid, what name are you using these days? When you're not using hers."

ROOK. IS QUIET! WHY IS ROOK? QUIET!

Lucanis couldn't answer Spite even if he wanted; he's never seen Arsinoë freeze like this, but there isn't time to dissect it. Bellara has moved to put herself between Arsinoë and the old man, Crows be damned, so Lucanis jumps in to speak the same way he would watch her back in a fight.

"De Riva." He answers for her. It's the only identity of hers a target has any right to know. "Why do you care?"

"We go back a ways," the man says, and finally sheathes his mage knife. Tucked into his belt, it looks as deceptive as he is, a farmer's hunting weapon without the glinting silverite blade. "You might have been too young to remember though, kid. And Antiklea didn't bring you around much."

"No." Rook doesn't move. She's normally an expressive talker, hands in constant motion, but she is still holding, eyes watchful. Waiting for the signal, as if young and bruised again."No, she didn't. Not when she didn't have to."

WHO. IS IT?

Lucanis bites back the question, instead making a deliberate point of not sheathing Rialto. He doesn't know of an Antiklea either, but something about this is throwing Rook is off her game. He can't afford to make more openings in her guard.

Footsteps go past the narrow mouth of the street and all of them, even the man tense. Spite hovers behind the man's shoulder, violet, violent light spilling over the stranger's face for only Lucanis to see.

SMELLS LIKE. RAIN AND DUST.

"Do we have a problem here?" Lucanis asks, at the same time as Bellara turns to Arsinoë, her back left open, FOOLISH , "Wait, do you know him Rook?"

Arsinoë glances her thumb along the sharpened Everite edge of her blade and shakes her head. "You weren't one of the ones she left me with, were you?"

Left you with???

"No," the man agrees. " You wouldn't have been any safer with me than you were with her. She's dead now, you know. Your mother."

What?

That's what this was about?

Lucanis has known of course, that Arsinoë wasn't de Riva by blood, whether it be Viago's or the previous Talon's. She was compradi, purchased, the same as most Crow fledglings were, and of course she had to have come from somewhere but –

Your mother is dead.

Lucanis blinked away the sudden twist in his chest and saw that Spite had rounded back to leer at the man's face, echoing confused anger. Incidentally, this also put the demon closer to Rook. Bellara had reached out immediately to put a steadying hand on Rook's elbow, but –

Arsinoë seemed to relax, her body shuddering as she released a breath. The mage knife was moving in her hands, but it was the same as the way she fidgeted with her fork or quill, not the intricate weave of a mage casting a spell.

"I assumed she was, by now," Arsinoë admitted, "It's been long enough. And even back then, well... I guess even as a kid I knew she wasn't going to come for me. Either she was dead or–"

Or cutting her losses. The unspoken words hung in the air.

And Arsinoë had been compradi. He knew that, knew the long, sordid history of the Crows and the children they bought to raise.

But... surely not. This was Rook. And even Caterina had-

LEFT ROOK? LEFT! ROOK!

"No, she wouldn't have," the man confirms, but Bellara's face is more devastated than Rook's, "that wasn't Antiklea's way of doing things. A couple of us looked, though, for what it's worth. Got as far as Filomena's widow and a couple of Templars, but then –".

"Then the Circle," Arsinoë agrees. "And then the Crows."

"The Crows? ... De Riva. Fuck, kid."

Lucanis bristles, even though his own thoughts have been circling and circling, twisting around compradi and bruising and silence, the strike of a cane. Arsinoë's free hand brushes his glove in recognition, and then the twist turns to shame.

"Things are what they are," Arsinoë tells her mother's associate with no more defensiveness than a shrug. Finally, the heat and flame of her mage orb flickers out of view. "I'm sorry if using one of her names upset you. I didn't expect it to be recognized after this long."

"Rook-" Bellara exclaims, but the glance Arsinoë shoots her isn't one looking for apologies.

The man shifts a little awkwardly, as if its finally hitting him just how absurd this whole conversation has been. "There are a few of us still around. A couple of the others might have some things of hers, I think. A stave or..."

"No. No that's not necessary."

"Arsinoë... Do you still use Arsinoë?"

"It's fine," Arsinoë waves him off, which doesn't actually answer the question, but the man relents. "I don't...She wouldn't..."

Wouldn't what? Wouldn't want to pass on her weapons to the daughter she apparently didn't look for?

"Still, I could-"

"No. Thank you. But whatever debts were there back then, neither of us owes the other now. I'll be fine."

"Debts?" Bellara asks incredulously, then "Rook, are you sure..."

"Bellara." Lucanis's jaw clicks as he says her name.

Arsinoë gives them all another small shake of the head, then glances at the still cooling Venatori corpses. "We should go. Before these are missed, I mean." Her eyes look to Bellara, to Lucanis, seeking, as if worried they might protest the sudden departure.

As if they would be worried about the groceries right now.

The man relents with a nod. "I'll handle the bodies. We can still do that much. Go safe... Signora de Riva."

Arsinoë turns heel without another glance in his direction. Bellara scrambles after her, leaving Lucanis to follow. He watches even as he leaves, until the old elf turns to the bodies with a sigh.

"So that was-" Bellara begins as he's catching up, but Arsinoë throws a hand up.

"Bel. Please. Not here."

Still Arsinoë accepts when Bellara tentatively links an arm through hers, though Lucanis swears he sees her flinch. Bellara looks back over her shoulder at him, expression still clear and full of all the words Arsinoë has rejected.

That was weird, right? He can almost hear her voice when their eyes meet. That was really weird. And sad.

Unfortunately... Lucanis thinks he understands more than he might like.

"When we get to the Lighthouse," he offers, "I'll send Harding for anything we need urgently and then I can start a pot of ciocalta calda while the stove heats."

Arsinoë gives no sign she heard him, her face distant. He starts revising dinner plans and the grocery list he will give to Harding. The broth can be put towards soup, maybe. Something easy to eat, to sip at, and what's left of the bread to soak in it.

LEFT ROOK? SOMEONE. LEFT ROOK THERE? Spite demands. The demon is unusually agitated, even for Spite.

Lucanis wishes he had a better answer.

But isn't that always how it is with the compradi?

Even Rook.

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

[taintedcigs]

so i decided to log in after not being on here for some time... and the first thing i see is someone replying to my fics and complaining about my writing lmao yuck... if you don't like my writing pls do not read! there is a difference bw helpful advice/criticism and just straight up being mean </3

[amrv-5]

Going to walk into the fucking water 🙏👍🚶➡️🌊

[caelanglang]

trying to bargain for a happier ending for Akai @itotypes

plsletthembehappy

[camels-pen]

"I'll do what you can't, you do what I can't" should be Sanji and Usopp's wedding vows. It should be engraved on their rings. It should be repeated back and forth from one to the other until they're old and gray and neither of them can remember who said it first. It's the perfect summary of their relationship and in this essay I will

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[sharkfund]

what if i Dont want insane intense very niche and graphic smiling friends angst. what if i just want them to kiss and hang out and be funny. Why is that like a herculian writing task for ao3

[areyoudoingthis]

upon some reflection I actually really love ofmd's take on stede and parenthood. I love that he's not a great dad. I love that the show said this man was not allowed real freedom to choose and these are the consequences, and that it didn't paint stede as evil or blameless. I love that the idea is "this man probably shouldn't have had children, but he did because it's what was expected of him and he couldn't break away from those expectations sooner, so here's what happened to him and his children." I love that he was more friend than father to his kids, and that ultimately they all agreed that the right choice was for him to walk away from an arrangement that was making them all miserable instead of staying out of obligation and making everyone even more miserable. I love that doug is literally dad shaped and the kids get someone who actively chose to be their dad and who is ultimately gonna help them grow up as far more healthy people than stede if he had stayed and been a shell of his real self as a result. I love that the show acknowledges the shitty circumstances without trying to argue that stede is a blameless victim or making him a monster

parenthood is hard and complicated and a lot of people who have kids shouldn't and every parent fucks up, some more than others, but admitting it is always the best way to go, and trying to find a way forward that makes everyone happy is the only real option that doesn't result in children not talking to their parents as soon as they're old enough to choose

[ipleadbritney]

ipleadbritney f1 fanfic masterlist

check the title hashtags for more info!!!

🗣️ you know (it kinda makes me laugh)

Lando/Oscar, T, 1.6K

multiple povs, 5+1 fic, williams + mclaren chaos

Somewhere between Mr. Piastri and Oscuh, or a name holds meanings and Oscar's name is one of Lando's favorite ways to communicate. Outsiders’ perspectives on the McLaren duo.

🥞 got love-struck, went straight to my head

Lando/Oscar, T, 11K

mutual pining, lando crushes hard

Maybe Lando will pull a Carlos in the future, crash into Oscar's new teammate every chance he gets. Lando has no idea how whipped he is for Oscar. Won't even admit he is whipped. Bear with him, please.

🧑🏻‍❤️‍🧑🏽 no proof, not much (but you saw enough)

Lando/Oscar, T, 3.5K

magical realism

A soul bond is like any other type of magic; you can buy it in a bottle. Or, to be more precise, you can manufacture it. Oscar and Lando are accused of having an illegal soul bond.

💜 oscar piastri's guide to breaking the internet

Lando/Oscar, T, 4.5K

prema boys, sharing clothes

Featuring: a challenge on who will break the internet the fastest, Prema boys, Oscar's confusion, long-distance phone calls, being young, stealing hoodies, and Lando's weirdly helpful antics.

📱 love you, bye

Lando/Oscar, T, 1.7K

social media au, relationship reveal

𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 | 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 ‘𝟮𝟰 @quadrantnondriverau the video won't load for me i’m getting fomo please someone describe it for me what is happening > 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗮 @childofdivorce644 lando was streaming and someone called him. we don't know who's on the other line but lando ended the call with “i love you, bye” 

🏡for keeps

Lando/Oscar, T, 8.7K

spy au, domestic, unreliable narrator

“I had some compelling evidence and you just laughed in my face.” “You can't call Seb wearing a turtleneck ‘compelling evidence’, Lando.” Lando and Oscar's neighbours are international spies, or so Lando tells Oscar. They're just two normal guys, though. Just Lando-and-Oscar.

👻h(a)unted you down

Lando/Oscar, T, 3.9K

magical realism, ghosts, pining

“Are you sure you're haunted?” A laugh rings out beside Lando. He didn't hear the joke, but he knows the punchline. “Yes,” Lando answers. Or, there's a ghost named Osc that haunts the halls of MTC. Only Lando can see him.

🚪 just to be mean

Max F/Oscar, Lando/Oscar, T, 2.1K

max f pov, jealousy

From the outside looking in (which isn't the best perspective to judge from, Max admits), Lando and Oscar communicate exclusively via race data and high-pitched giggles. Oscar has this way of laughing that's funnier than the actual joke. Max would know because, well, because Max used to be the one who cracked the jokes.

📸 scenes from a social media admin

Lando/Oscar, T, 3.7k

smau, pr!lando, crack

> 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘃𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀 @birthdaybars is your job hard? >> 𝗟𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀 @/lnorris Sure it is! But nothing compared to the work in the factory and at the track. I’m usually just at the side >>> 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘃𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀 @birthdaybars ADMIN DON'T YOU DARE PUT YOURSELF DOWN FAN INTERACTIONS KEEP THE LIGHTS ON AT MTC >>>> 𝗟𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀 @/lnorris haha don't think that's how it works but appreciate it!

👀 jealousy⁴

jealousy lol

Lando/Oscar, T, 3.9K

Oscar said something about Arthur, half-asleep. Oscar never said anything about Max. That can't be possible. Or, jealousy can take many forms. Lando Norris encounters four of them.

😘 three-sixteenths

Lando/Oscar, T, 4.3K

magical realism, kiss curses

Lando's cursed and has to kiss someone Italian. Good thing Oscar Piastri is his teammate.

🌅 displacement

Lando/Oscar, T, 10.6k

magical realism, mild horror, angst with a happy ending

Lando’s not an anomaly. Of this, Oscar is certain. He’s everywhere– fluorescent green and the number four, those squiggly shapes he introduced this year. Anomalies are the opposite. They crave unoccupied spaces they can take as their own, without any complications, without people noticing them. How can anyone, anything, not notice Lando Norris? Or, it’s 2024, and McLaren’s quick. Oscar suffers. Lando holds his hand.